Periodic columns from our staff and the occasional guest.

Newspapers, tragedy, life

Dennis Forney. Trish Vernon. Vicki Davis. Mike Short. Lon Wagner. Kathy Emery. Gina whose last name I can’t remember. Deny Howeth. Chris Wildt. Cat Tanzer. Don Herring. Terry Peddicord. David Healey. Adam Wolle. Bill Hughes. Cheryl Mattix. Jon Springer. Drew Ostroski. Jeff James. Jeff Swinger. Butch Comegys. Anthony Farina. Jim DeCourcy. Wendy Gilbert. Joy whose last name I can’t remember. Craig Horleman. Jeff Gentry. Jane Thomas. Barb Tidman. And . . .

Three weeks...

Red Smith said it best.

“From New York City you drive north for about 175 miles, turn left on Union Avenue and go back 100 years.”


One final day of Royal Ascot. Bouncing between Royal Ascot and the World Cup all week, while balancing a tray of jobs and tasks at the same time. No dishes on the floor. Yet.

Ascot Dreaming

We are all dreamers. Watching Royal Ascot this morning, the dreams came alive for Tanya and John Gunther, Eve Johnson Houghton and a few others beyond the big names of Gosden, Dettori, Buick, Appleby, Mullins and Abdullah.

Father's Day

To the barn early. Hot, the air is stifling, like a carpet draped across the doorway as you open it. Bugs are out already. Horses – my other eight sons – glad to see me.

Riding in the Hills

I’ve been trying to write every day, good or bad, something to say or not. Somebody told me Saratoga started in five weeks, better start up the engines. Missed yesterday while spending the morning at Fair Hill, the afternoon on I-70 west and the evening riding bikes with Miles and picking weeds in the garden.

Gene Weymouth, one of a kind

I owe my career to Gene Weymouth. No, really. Well, kind of. And if you spit out your coffee at that statement I’m sorry. Get a napkin.

Summer Time

Summer has started. Miles is out of school. 

The Penalty Box

“I’m in the penalty box.”

That’s how a friend of mine describes when his stable goes in a slump.

The first time he said it, I said, “What?”