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Columns

  • A sign of the holiday weekend

    Mine was a Memorial weekend to remember, but not for the altruistic and patriotic reasons – although any father of a Marine, which I am, holds service and sacrifice with immeasurable respect – but because we made a lot of memories around our place.

    During my youth, Memorial Day was the holiday when we would visit the gravesite of my maternal grandfather, whom I can’t remember from my infancy but whose medals from World War I have been for decades part of the decor in my mother’s bedroom.

  • An overpowering storm of fear

    Tell the truth: If you are a parent, you thought twice about sending your child to school on Tuesday morning.

    You looked at the satellite images of the approaching weather system that had laid waste to miles and miles of homes in Oklahoma. You looked at the darkening skies in the west. You thought about families whose children were huddled in a school not built to withstand the right cross from nature’s most fearsome force.

  • SOUDER: Wit & wisdom for graduates (or anyone who will listen)

    To commemorate this season of graduation, allow me to share this letter written to advice columnist Ann Landers.

  • Lifespan of a baseball fan

    A steamy Sunday afternoon in early August, 1963. Crosley Field, the old baseball park in Cincinnati, and the Pirates are in town to play the Reds in that long lost treasure called the “Sunday doubleheader.”

  • We’ve missed the story here

    Both stories appeared in the same position on the front page of the daily newspaper. The headline sizes were about the same, the impact of the stories nearly identical.

    So it takes no degree in journalism to determine that editors believed each story to be almost equal in “weight” with the other. After all, any story at the top of a front page of an American newspaper is deemed to be important simply by geography.

    Yet these two stories were hardly identical, hardly equal and hardly of the same importance.

  • SOUDER: I think I can, I think I can...rats, I couldn’t!
  • An atypical approach to the Derby

    Here are your typical preparations during Derby Week: Complete your wardrobe for the day, study the listings of horses that are in the newspaper, identify which one Calvin Borel is riding (that would be Revolutionary) or which one Todd Pletcher is training (that would be 25 percent of the projected field), wait until Saturday to see which horse looks nicest in the paddock or has the most emotional storyline, place your wager.

  • SOUDER: Yesterday, when I was young

    I’ve heard it said that you know you are getting older when your former classmates are so gray and wrinkled and bald that they no longer recognize you. Perhaps you can identify.

    I was thinking about things along those lines because next week I will be celebrating my birthday. OK, perhaps “celebrating” is a little strong. More accurately, next week I will be observing my birthday.

  • The Boston Marathon massacre

    If you’ve ever run a marathon, thought about running a marathon or watched someone you love run one, you understand the pain. You see those faces and those strides mere yards from the finish line. You see happiness and even tears struggling past unrelenting physical torment. You sense the adrenalin that is coursing, grasp that the last possible bits of energy are being summoned. Joy is rising and overtaking pain. The finish line is the joy line. The finish is the ecstasy after the agony.

  • The Final 4 – at last – is the best of all

    ATLANTA – Here is what you find during a Final 4: equal parts Mardi Gras, Derby infield and Times Square, mixed with an overture of basketball and warmed slightly by the fervor that only well-funded and sometimes well-oiled fans can generate.

    Here is what you will not find during a Final 4: calm and apathy.