I think I’ve mentioned before that when I was a child soccer was not allowed to be played in the United States. The Cold War will still in full force and we were serious about the domino effect of allowing soccer and then one day waking up and finding Bernie Sanders as president.

I admire the strivers, the reachers, those who climb for the stars. Of course they fail, they fall. That’s what gravity was created for, to keep us rooted to the earth.

I get it, this isn’t the sports page but indulge me this one more venture in the sports realm. I promise to not write another sports-themed column until the Super Sonics play again in Seattle. Just don’t expect me to keep that promise.

I thought I recognized someone out of the corner of my eye, just a fleeting resemblance really. It was the World’s Best Boy (proclaimed the WBB by one of my sisters), the big-headed, precocious freak show who the weekend before he started kindergarten read the entirety of the third Harry Potter book.

It was a weird and, admittedly rare, moment when I felt attune with contemporary culture. I was reading a story about a reboot of “Murphy Brown” television show.I thought to myself, “I watched the show!”It’s been 14 years since I’ve been able to remark on a show airing on network or cable te…

As we go through life we pick up burdens, starting with stuff like student debt and progressing to credit cards, car and home loans, relationship commitments, family responsibilities and what not.

I’m both encouraged and concerned. Most parents find themselves in that state on a regular basis, but in this situation it is in regard to something else I’m nurturing — my garden.

Admittedly I came into the week not recovered from the pummeling of the continuing saga of immigrants being separated from their children at the border with Mexico. But still, no one expected what was the come. At first it was just a couple of jabs.

I’m not saying anyone, least of all myself, is to blame but in retrospect I picked a wrong time to start reading Philip Kerr’s Bernie Gunther historical detective series.

What can you say? When the man is right, the man is right and last week President Donald J. Trump nailed the Canadian beaver pelt hide to the trading post wall.

A child born a few days ago has never known a world in which the Seattle Mariners were not either tied for, or in sole possession of first place in the American League West.

For much of my career, I was what they called a Back End B Boy. That’s not member of boy band, although that’s a fine name for a band, but rather meant I selected and pasted up the stories that appeared in the back half of the B section.

I think I shared the reaction of many when I heard last week that a judge in Oregon ordered the 15-year-old boy who started the destructive Eagle Creek Fire with a firecracker last September to pay $36.6 million to cover the damages.

You can’t let yourself get discouraged by death. With that as my guiding mantra I’ve returned from a five-year absence to once again attempt a garden.

It’s the nature of the business. Reporters must be detached, to be able to stare at whatever humanity has to offer and dispassionately relate it to the reading public.

I don’t stay on top of all the medical advances, but I like to think that I have a rough understanding of at least the primary components of the human body. 
But sometimes you don’t know something until you have to know something.

For many of us our teen years were full of moments, days, months perhaps we’d rather not remember in vivid detail. It is ridiculous to think a 16 to 18 year old can be on point for every day, but you’d hope he’d step it up during those critical life-defining days.

When I first saw them I didn’t know who they were or what to make of them. And I was stumped about how a picture of them turned up on my photo roll on my phone.

The old saying is you don’t know a person until you walk a mile in his or her shoes. Donald Trump and I wear similar-sized shoes (although I wear bigger gloves, not that it matters).

I was ready this time. I had staked out a prime location with an unobscured view of the horizon, my cardboard glasses secured over my eyes.

It’s at least 11 hours in the air trying not to think about soaring 30,000 feet over the Earth in a narrow tube, plus airport time both checking in and transforming flights, in addition to however long it takes you to travel to the airport, typically waking at a ridiculous hour to catch an early flight.

Sometimes the hardships and hurdles you encounter early in life prepare you to overcome challenges that wait in your future. Of course, you don’t know that at the time.

When I was a kid our Christmas tree stand basically was a large block of cement with a cylinder on top sized to hold a 24 to 26 foot tall tree. The stand weighed upwards to 20 to 30 pounds.

It’s a grouping of gropers, grabbers, pants droppers and teen seducers that includes Alabama senate candidate Roy Moore and long-time Michigan congressman John Conyers; conservative talker Bill O’Reilly and Lake Wobbegong’s Garrison Keillor; Minnesota Sen. Al Franken and former president of the United States, George H.W. Bush; former Fox Network executive Roger Ailes and a man millions welcomed into their homes each morning, “Today” show host Matt Lauer.

You can be excused for not noticing any difference because there is no difference to notice but the Daily Record of November is an entirely different than the Daily Record of October in that the newspaper has a new owner.

Historically speaking, the year 1612 a big year for hanging witches in England with 14 women and one man hanged for witchcraft in Northampton and Lancashire. Also Galileo was busy doing Galileo things such as being the first astronomer to observe Neptune in conjunction with Jupiter.

It does not matter where you live, to get along you need to know “which way the wind blows around here.” That’s particularly important where leaves are concerned.

I’ve been waiting for this day for nearly a year, since dawn of the political apocalypse — the ascension of Donald Trump to the Oval Office throne this past November.

Several years ago I read Cormac McCarthy’s darkly disturbing novel “The Road.” I distinctly remember saying to myself at the time, “Well, I don’t need to read another post-apocalyptic novel. This one covers all the bases.”

One of the many (really, too many) jobs I do at the Daily Record is to each morning collect the out-of-town newspapers delivered to the Daily Record’s doorstep.

I’ve made a career out of writing about things that either did not happen or haven’t yet happened — from the 2,000 home development on the Springwood Ranch outside Thorp to Ellensburg’s mythical water park (I am still a water park believer).