There’s strong evidence to back up the repeated scientific claim that our sense of smell is the one with the best connection to our memories.

That strong evidence is my own light switch that flips on whenever I smell fresh-baked biscuits. A light switch that turns on the decades-old bulb so that I can see my mother pulling a sheet pan of that breakfast bread from the old gas oven. It was a small stove that was in the kitchen of ...

Social media, for all of its faults, every now and then offers something worthwhile.

I’m a member of a group on Facebook called, “Dull Men.” The only pre qualification to join this throng of staid fellas is to publicly admit you are dull. And you do that by joining.

Often, one of the guys will post a picture of something he either can’t identify or doesn’t understand.

It’s the perfect venue for this sort of thing. Men love nothing better than telling ...

On a recent trip, I remembered why I like to stay home.

Coffee.

After throwing back the covers from my rented room, I searched for the device that brews that sweet, morning nectar.

Behind a door, next to the $10 mini-bottles of booze, and the $5 bottles of water, sat the coffee maker.

It was so complicated; I put the water where the coffee pods go. After cleaning up the mess, and being willing to risk electrocuting myself for a cup, I was finally ...

The 8-track tape case that lived on the back seat of my 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme was always full. Full to the point that I had to rotate different cartridges in and out to be able to listen to the variety my buddy’s and my teenage brain required.

“What exactly is a Doobie Brother?” my dad asked once.

“I have no idea,” I answered. Which was a lie. However, admitting that I knew what that was would’ve been instantly incriminating.

Our house on ...