I was reminded how much I love baseball – especially in September and October – by two recent events. The first was, my family and I attended a Portland Sea Dogs game a week ago where the home team got trounced by the visiting Reading Fightin’ Phils 10-3. The Sea Dogs are the Boston Red Sox AA-affiliate. If you want a complete roster of all the AA teams and their nicknames (they are so cute!), click onto MLB.com.

These minor league games are a hoot. First, you don’t need to take out a second mortgage to attend a game with your family. The tickets are affordable and the stadiums are small and cozy. I also was extremely excited to have a red hot-dog which I love (a.k.a. “red snapper” in Maine. They snap in your mouth on every bite!). Accompanied by a baseball helmet full of crispy crinkle-cut fries, it doesn’t get any better than that!

The Sea Dogs also replicated Fenway Park’s “Green Monster” in left field. Theirs is called the “Maine Monster” and we did see some balls fly over it for home runs. My grandsons were so excited jumping up and down and screaming and stomping their feet on the metal stands along with the rest of the sellout crowd.

The second event occurred today. My grandsons were playing wiffle-ball in the backyard, and it brought back memories of my own youth playing wiffle-ball in the Alpert’s backyard. There was no “Green” or “Maine” Monster to speak of at the Alpert house, but if you hit it on the roof, it was equivalent to hitting it over either “Monster”…. Home-run! Touch ‘em all!

My six-year-old grandson was really smacking the wiffle-ball around and almost took my head off on one line drive. He was so proud of himself as was I and all the other fans in attendance (his mother and grandmother). When we finished, I started thinking about baseball and my Yankees and wondered, why can’t they smack the ball around like my grandson? I mean they used to. What happened? Every time I watched a game this year or read a box score, the bats seemed to be mostly silent. So, I delved into it a little further.

The Yankees as a team this year are batting a measly .231. Granted, they have had a rash of injuries and have been without their slugger Aaron Judge since May 31^st. But .231? That’s down from .245 in 2025 and .247 in 2024. The major league average is .244 this year and was .245 in 2025 and .243 in 2024. That aside, they still have the 6^th best record in baseball! How is that possible you ask? Their pitching staff has been stellar and carrying the team. They have a major-league leading 3.21 ERA and that’s from a staff riddled with injuries as well. That’s baseball.

As my grandson told me today after his wiffle-ball home-run derby: grandpa, the only thing that matters in sports is winning. You should know that.

And he’s right. Here’s to the 22 teams vying to make the playoffs: Good luck to all of you! I hope one of you doesn’t mind being the runner-up in the World Series! Play ball!

Today’s Puzzlement (think Yul Brynner in the King of I): Is this for real? Seen on the side of a store in Kennebunkport, Maine:

I packed up the car 3 weeks ago filled with lobster traps, potato chips and my wife, and drove 6 hours north to the lobster capital of the world: Maine. Our first stop was in Kennebunk at The Landing Store where I had to choose between a ¼ lb. lobster roll (what a normal human being might consume); a ½ lb. lobster roll (which I ended up ordering and devouring); and a ¾ lb. lobster roll (which only Joey Chestnut could scarf down!). It was indeed the perfect kickoff in my quest to find the answer to this paradigm.

For my non-crustacean lover audience out there, let me provide you with a brief history of lobsters and lobster rolls. This might help you better understand why anyone would pay upwards of $120 for a pound of picked lobster meat (yes, my Hampton’s friends, I’m talking to you!). According to my due diligence, the original lobster roll was served in Milford, CT in 1929 at a restaurant named Perry’s. What my source revealed was that Harry Perry served warm, buttered lobster meat on a sliced bread roll for a traveler. At some point over the years, mayonnaise was offered as a substitute. Me? I think there’s only one thing to add to the lobster roll and that’s mayo.

Lobster inflation has far outpaced the inflation of eggs, beef, college and grades combined. That’s an exaggeration but go with me on this. In the early-2010’s, a standard lobster roll cost roughly $10-$18. Today it’s $35 to $55! That’s an increase of 3.5x! Inflation has only gone up 1.5x in that period! All this for something that was originally considered a “poor man’s food’. Crazy.

Back to our adventure. From Kennebunk, we headed north to the Sebago Lake area. Ate lobster rolls. Then we returned to Kennebunkport. Ate lobster rolls. Our trek continued Down East to Mt. Desert Island and Acadia National Park. Guess what we did there? Ate lobster rolls. I should elaborate that when I say “we” ate lobster rolls, that is a lie. Only “I” ate lobster rolls. My wife was doing her own data collecting on steamers!

Before we complete this month-long expedition tomorrow in Kennebunkport (not a typo – 3^rd visit to Kennebunkport!), we stopped off in Rockland for a 2-day visit to L.R.A. (Lobster Rolls Anonymous) where they only serve salad and chowdah (thank goodness!).

So, what are the results of my findings? You never tire of lobster rolls, and you can never have too many on a vacation. If, after another week of gorging on lobster rolls I change my opinion, I will inform you. Let me offer this advice: before summer’s end, go out and eat a lobster roll or two! And get a side of fries or chips while you’re at it! And don’t forget the cole slaw!

The word “time” itself, how often do we iterate it daily? How many familiar phrases that we commonly use begin with the word “time”? This piqued my curiosity and as your investigative reporter, I dug deeper into finding the answer.

Do you know who supposedly coined the phrase “time is money”? If you answered Benjamin Franklin, you are correct – supposedly.

We are all quite aware that if we don’t move quickly enough, “time waits for no man”. Considering that I am early in my journalistic career, I will keep this politically correct and update that phrase to “time waits for no man – nor woman”. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, correct?

“Time Is on My Side”. The Rolling Stones recorded this song in 1964, but are you aware that the original version was recorded by Irma Thomas earlier that year? Give yourself a pat on the back if you did. And give yourself a gold star if you knew her backup singers were Dionne Warwick, Dee Dee Warwick and Cissy Houston (Whitney’s mother)!

If you have a spat with someone, keep in mind that “time heals all wounds”. I dug deeper into this one. This is not true so do not cite this phrase any longer. I have the empirical data to back it up - just from my family alone.

“Time flies when you’re having fun”. True, except for that time when you might have had one too many and you can’t remember what time the party started or ended so you really have no idea what time it was or is and whether it flew or not.

“Time will Tell” Indeed. Doesn’t it always?

“Time Stands Still”. You hear me 1969 Jets fans? You hear me 1986 Mets fans? Joe Willie and Mookie are frozen in time. Prehistoric mastodons. Even the ice age came to an end at some point.

Well, since “time is of the essence”, I should probably start to wrap things up. In some future post, I will address “time” in other parts of familiar phrases. Examples of this are: wasting time; saving time; the time is ripe; all in good time; pressed for time; in the nick of time, as a few examples.

But first I’ll leave you with this: I love the lyrics from “Me and Bobby McGee”: “windshield wipers slappin’ time”. I was always under the impression that Janis Joplin released the first version of this song, but it was actually Roger Miller in 1969 followed by Kris Kristoferson in 1970. Janis Joplin’s cut was recorded two days before her death in 1970 and released posthumously in 1971. My Deadhead fans know that Bob Weir sang a version of it in their early-1970’s concerts as well.

I love the visual of “windshield wipers slappin’ time”. We all have driven in the rain with our wipers on and it becomes hypnotizing to watch them go back and forth and back and forth. If you stop to think about it, wipers are similar to a metronome. Substitute the click, click, click of a metronome to the swish, swish, swish of wiper blades and you realize that both are measuring time.

Enjoy your day and remember: “time is precious”.

It’s hard to fathom, but it’s been 45 days since the Knicks claimed the NBA Championship and 41 days since they held their victory parade in downtown Manhattan. I’m sure not everyone reading this is a Knicks fan, but for those of you that are not, you must admit, it was a fantastic sports story and quite an entertaining playoff stretch to witness. And if you ARE a Knicks fan, we finally did it baby!!! I am old enough to remember Marv Albert calling the games back in the 1972-73 season, the last time the Knicks won the championship. Positioned next to bed sat my small, square Sony radio that blared “Frazier YES!”, “Reed YES!”, “Debusschere YES!”, “Bradley YES!”, “Earl the Pearl, YES!”. And now my friends, 53 years later, we are the champions once again.

As a New Yorker, it was an amazing time to live and take in what was transpiring on the streets. The excitement was not limited to just Manhattan. The outer boroughs and suburbs were bursting with pride as well. Everyone was wearing their Knick swag, especially the #11 Brunson jerseys! I miss all the camaraderie. I miss the anticipation of the next game being played. I miss the adrenaline rush. I miss the pure excitement of it all.

But we sports fans didn’t have time to rest. We recycled all our empty beer cans and went out and replenished our stock. We got out the dust buster and vacuumed up all the broken pretzels and Cheetos that were stuck in between the cushions on the couch. You see, two days before the Knicks won the championship, the World Cup kicked off in North America with 8 games being played in our backyard at Met Life Stadium! Oh, give me a second please, there’s a knock at my door. “Yes Mr. FIFA representative? What’s that you say? I’m not allowed to say Met Life Stadium? It’s the New York New Jersey Stadium? Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” Don’t get me started please.

I would not exactly call myself a soccer enthusiast, but man, I really got into this World Cup. First, there was the educational aspect. Before this World Cup was played, I thought I knew everything about Cape Verde that there was to know, but I was wrong! Second, it’s hard to believe there are more fake dives in a soccer match than there are cheap fouls in an NBA game, but there are! Third, most of the matches were extremely exciting!

And now, just like that, it’s over. The excitement: over. The adrenaline rush: over. The beer: not over but diminished. Yes, there’s still plenty of baseball to watch, but it takes a master’s degree just to locate where the Yankee game is being broadcast. It’s like playing Whac-A-Mole every night guessing which streaming service is broadcasting the game! And I won’t ruin your day/month/life by bringing up the Mets.

I have some good news for you sports fans. Hang in there. Remember how many days it’s been since the Knicks won the championship? That’s right, 45. Do you know how many days left until the NFL season kicks off? Only 43!! Only 43 days until the real football season starts! You have a little over a month to replenish your beer, pretzel, and Cheetos supplies.

Some trivia for you: In the 1995 move Apollo 13, the line “Houston, we have a problem” was not what was spoken during the 1970 flight. The actual conversation was astronaut Jack Swigert saying “Okay, Houston, we’ve had a problem here” followed by astronaut Jim Lovell saying “Ah, Houston, we’ve had a problem.”

(Correction: An astute subscriber caught me red-handed in a previous post: when speaking of jazz musicians my roommate in college listened to, the correct answer should have been Ahmad Jamal, not Kamal Ahmed by mistake. Good catch CF)

I really did not know a lot about Mr. Carter going into the performance, so for me, it was quite an education. What makes him a living legend you ask? The man is 89 and he can still slap that bass with the best of them. Impeccably dressed with a quiet sense of humor, his solo stints were mesmerizing. He can squeeze notes and sounds out of that instrument like no one I’ve heard before. Mr. Carter began his career with the great Miles Davis quintet and six decades later, is still going strong. What is more remarkable is he holds the Guinness World Record for most albums released – over 2200! Did I mention he’s 89!!

My introduction to jazz really started in earnest 15 years ago. Before that, I had listened to dribs and drabs in college as my freshman roommate was into groups such as Herbie Hancock, Spyro Gyro, and Kamal Ahmed amongst others. I enjoyed it but was more into rock and had waded into the world of The Grateful Dead.

The turning point for me was in 2011 when I saw that Eric Clapton was playing at The Jazz at Lincoln Center with Wynton Marsalis. The show was titled “Play the Blues at Rose Hall”. To procure tickets (or better yet, increase the odds of procuring tickets), I joined The Jazz at Lincoln Center as a subscriber. Beat the onslaught! Get first dibs! I was fortunate enough to get tickets and even though it was a night of Blues with two great musicians, I was hooked on the beautiful venue and got into jazz. Rose Hall (the “house of swing”) was built specifically for Wynton Marsalis and his orchestra. We have been subscribers ever since.

While on the topic of the Blues, I must share with you the details of an annual event that takes place on Pier 76 in NYC. It’s called the Blues BBQ Festival. It’s scheduled for August 15^th and goes all day and night (1:00pm-9:00pm). Great live music with many bands. (https://hudsonriverpark.org/visit/events/event/blues-bbq-festival-2026/#main-stage) The best news? It’s free! Well at least the music is free. The food and booze you’ve got to pay for (warning: the lines can get long for the BBQ so grab your canned wine first before you stand in line! Thank me later).

You want the perfect NYC summer day? Kick it off with Summer Streets and end up at the Blues BBQ Festival on August 15^th. All free! (https://www.nyc.gov/html/dot/html/pedestrians/summerstreets.shtml).

Enjoy your Sunday!

They are staying with friends of mine who built a house on a lake that overlooks the camp that he and I used to attend more than 50 years ago. A lot of good memories and friendships came out of that camp, so when we visit, there’s a lot of reminiscing going on.

After they unpacked, they walked down the path from the house to the dock and boarded my friend’s pontoon boat for an evening ride on the lake. Considering it was hours past my granddaughter’s bedtime, it was a bold move, but I guess you’ve got to break them in early! It also coincided with a fireworks display sponsored by the local town that could best be viewed on the lake. What a great way to kick off the weekend!

I thought about them sitting on the lake and taking in the fireworks show and how happy they must have been with the sky filled with stars and a slight chill to the air. I then envisioned them waking up this morning and taking their coffee down to the dock and just staring at the placid lake. Given the beautiful weather that was forecast, I’m sure the surface was glass-like. I’ve been fortunate to have seen the lake in that condition countless times. Perhaps there was even the call of a loon coming from across the way. It’s so peaceful. It’s so therapeutic.

Whether it’s that lake in Maine or the whitewater in a Colorado stream or the waves crashing at the Jersey shore, water has a calming influence that can’t be replicated.

They say the best things in life are free. That may or may not be true but take my advice (yes, it’s free!) Go find that lake or beach or river when you can and tell me whether all your cares and troubles disappeared – for a little while at least.

Oh, and Visiting Day? I’ll get back to you on how that goes! Have a great weekend!

Willy was younger than me when the final curtain came down – he was 63. I left my sales career at the end of 2025 just shy of my 67^th birthday. I am glad that my career ended in a much happier fashion than did Willy’s! No spoiler-alert here: I am not going give away the ending! I have the utmost confidence in you that you can decipher it on your own!

My Act I was working on Wall Street. Act II is now a work in progress. My goal: I want to entertain you. I want to make you smile. I want to make you laugh. I want to be thought-provoking. I don’t want to discuss politics or wars or whether AI will better mankind or destroy it. I certainly don’t want to discuss the Mets or the Jets. My job going forward is to get out on the streets of New York and share with you the unique human-interest stories I uncover. One of my main attributes is I am a keen observer of my environs. Combine that with my very sarcastic and sardonic sense of humor and you are going to be entertained. Hop aboard!

In a recent podcast I listened to with the famous author and historian Walter Isaacson, he said, “let me tell you a story” and continued “there are two types of people who come out of Louisiana: preachers and storytellers. For heaven’s sake, be a storyteller”. Going forward, that’s what I will be: a storyteller (I’ve got 67 years’ worth and counting) and no preaching!

So, you ask: Dan, how are you going to make me smile and laugh? Fair enough question. Besides the stories I will be penning, I also have a trove of jokes I saved up over the course of my career. This hobby started in the early 1980’s and continued through the Great Recession of 2007-2009. After that, the joke-telling came to an end. Most of the collection I had is now in the garbage, but the residual is still worth sharing.

Thinking back, the first jokes I had were written down by hand because in the early 1980’s, there was no internet and no instant messaging! Maybe we were faxing back then? But once we were all hooked up to Bloomberg terminals in the later-1980’s, the jokes were coming at a fast and furious pace. You will be the beneficiaries of my hoarding nature. For example:

Two men were out on the golf course and eventually were slowed down by a twosome of women just in front of them.

The first fellow said, “Go up to them and ask nicely if we can play through.”

So up went the second man. He almost got to the cart where the women were, but he hurried back without saying a word to them. “I can’t go up to them. One is my wife and the other is my mistress! You go ask.”

“Okay,” said the first man and he started walking up to the women himself. He almost got to where they were but turned around and ran back to his friend without speaking to them. “Me too!”, he said.

Okay, corny, right? But cute. Perhaps it brought a little smile to your face and maybe even a little chuckle?

Please join me in my Act II and let me entertain you! This has been a dream of mine for many, many years. Thank you for being a part of it. Please raise your glass and toast to the Death of a Salesman and the Birth of a Writer! Cheers!