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We age. We learn. But, do we teach?

What the world needs lately is Andy Rooney.

My newfangled watch has been giving me orders, and I don’t take orders well.

I didn’t think my worst March Madness experience could ever be topped.

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The Chicago Bears announced on Jan. 14 they will no longer host training camp at Olivet Nazarene University in Bourbonnais, Ill., as they did the last 18 summers.

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The year 2019 is in the books. As the months go by, I always try to keep tabs on the year’s superlatives in preparing for this column. As always, there were emotional highs and lows this year. Here are some of my most memorable moments from 2019—and the end of 2018.

I have a weakness in life, and I can’t shake it.

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Facebook is a great place for ideas.

The best advice I can give to someone with writer’s block is to just start writing.

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They say the scariest thing about having a third child is the parents are now outnumbered.

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The first week of the NCAA Tournament continues to be my favorite week of the year.

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It’s been a difficult year for the Chicago Police Department as many officers lost their lives. Some of them were local residents.

High school sports seasons, especially in the fall, fly by.

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As you may have heard, President Barack Obama is now an honorary member at Beverly Country Club, a revered neighborhood institution that has held prestigious PGA tournaments, hosted a few fun weddings that I’ve been to and employed me for a day as a valet parking cars on Easter Sunday during…

In 1960, during my senior year of high school, I started work as an assistant precinct captain for my precinct, the 28th in the 8th Ward.

I’m jealous of my two children for a few reasons.

Before they met on Jan. 16, the Br. Rice and Marist basketball teams had essentially played each other to a stalemate over the last 27 years.

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It’s a little uncomfortable for me, as editor of The Beverly Review, to write a commentary praising a local business—after all, I don’t want to sound like I’m favoring one place over another.

Temperatures are hovering in the 40s, and we’ve had a few days of rain.

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Full disclosure: I wasn’t at the Br. Rice-Marist basketball game on Jan. 17.

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Ah, the new year is here. A time for resolutions that will never be met. A time for awkward walks around the gym that we just joined. Look at that—we’re only three or four weeks away from realizing that we’ve already fallen short of achieving those resolutions.

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I think about the Year in Review issue several times over the course of the year. And around August, I thought that it would be a rather uneventful year—in a good way.

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I love Christmas. You probably do, too. Or maybe you don’t celebrate Christmas, and that’s just fine, too.

I feel like I should be safe writing this on the South Side. And yes, a disclaimer: I’m a Sox fan. So, here it goes.

As I headed into work on Sept. 7, I checked my e-mail one last time before jumping in the car.

You can put it on the board … No!

A beloved columnist, reporter and all-around good guy from the Kankakee area died last week, and you should care.

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Writing about sports at any level is an inherently fun job.

It was a few minutes after the Blackhawks’ 2016 season had ended. My phone’s battery was dying when I picked up a text from my pal Scott Fredericks, or “Sporty,” as he is affectionately known around the newsroom of The Beverly Review.

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An old saying goes “If these walls could talk.”

To riff on a line from a famous ancient Roman play, I come here not to praise my generation, but I don’t come to bury it, either.

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Sometimes, I feel a little guilty on Mother’s Day morning.

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My family has always taken owning a dog quite seriously.

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I grew up a sports fan—probably too much of a sports fan.

There’s a lot of negativity if not downright sadness in the world, and the U.S. encountered yet another tragedy on July 16 when five military personnel were gunned down at a recruiting center and military base in Chattanooga, Tenn.

As the sports editor at The Beverly Review for better than 15 years, it’s pretty obvious to readers that I’m a sports junkie.

A decade from now, we might have different emotions when we look back at the June 26, 2015, United States Supreme Court ruling making same-sex marriage legal across the country.

Know any living Illinois politicians who deserve a $500,000 statue?

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What would you do with $260 million?

If you talk to most reporters, they’ll tell you that every few months, or maybe a few times a year, they run into a story that 1,000 words or so in a newspaper won’t do justice.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to May when I started my position as editor of The Beverly Review in late November of last year.

I admit: even after 12 years of Catholic education, I’m not as well-informed as I should be on the teachings of my religion.

Two things stood out when I entered the homes of Maureen Fleming, a Mt. Greenwood resident, and Pat Roberts, who lives in Gilman, about 50 miles north of Champaign.

(This article is reprinted by permission from theconversation.com)

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