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Rick Ryckeley's blog

The games people play

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My sister, brothers, and I spent seven adventurous years at 110 Flamingo Street. During that time we enjoyed a neighborhood full of friends to play with except Down the Street Bully Brad. Unless you consider running for your life a game, Brad never played with us.

The anti-socialite

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Back when we lived at 110 Flamingo Street, Mom entertained all the time. It was actually only once a month, but to us kids that seemed like all the time. To say she was a socialite would be as big of an understatement as BP saying, “Oops, we’ve spilled a little oil.

No good deed...

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They say that no good deed ever goes unpunished. Now I know Mrs. Newsome, my fifth-grade English teacher, already has her red pen out ready to write at the top of my paper, “Just who are they? Can you cite an example of they?”

What day is it?

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I’ll be the first to admit it’s been a long time since I’ve known what day of the week it was. And for once, the guys at the fire department won’t laugh at me because of a story. If they’re honest, they’ll admit that they lose track of days as often as I do.

Questions from The Boy

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The first time I saw him his blue eyes looked up at me as a small hand wrapped around my finger, and I knew nothing for either of us would ever be the same again. The Boy doesn’t remember that day, the months or even the years that followed. But I was there.

If only

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If only this were a funny story, it wouldn’t be so sad. If only it weren’t so sad, maybe it wouldn’t be so true to so many. Funny will return next week.

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Opinion

“... if we come to see ourselves as meat, then meat we shall become.” — Leon Kass, M.D., “Toward a More Natural Science”