We started in the Fourth of July spirit last Saturday night with the concert and fireworks in Point Lookout. Since then, Neil Diamond’s “Coming to America” has been a persistent mental hum.

I see everyone posting all over Facebook all of their kids' accomplishments...getting into college, honor roll, winning championships, peeing in the toilet.  It doesn't really bother me and there certainly isn't anything wrong with it, but I am not a big believer in using Facebook to pat myself on the back on behalf of my son (especially since he doesn't see it).  

It was a fairly normal commute on the LIRR yesterday morning, albeit a little late after a morning breakfast meeting. I was happily engrossed in my Ipad, instant messaging with my office, when a symphony of sounds made me jump.

In the car home last night, for no apparent reason, we started to remember old things.  I am not talking about Fred.  Things.  

Paula Deen, the infamous southern chef on the Food Network is continuing to make headlines. The publisher of her new cookbook is dumping plans to publish it. “Paula Deen’s New Testament: 250 Favorite Recipes, All Lightened Up,” due out in October was ranked No. 1 on Amazon. A bunch of her fans are buying her other books and leaving angry messages on the site in protest.

My son David and his family have a non allergic dog named Lucy. She's a schnoodle. When they go away she stays with us. It did not take long for us to love her (and her breed). Because I'm allergic to dogs, we have not had one in many many years. However, Lucy broke through and as a result I agreed to Joanne's request that we get a puppy, as long as it too was a schnoodle. Soon we had this little black ball of fuzz and we named her Charcoal.

Although married, Flo and I do not share last names. Among our three married children, one couple shares a last name, one couple has chosen to each retain their surname, and in one, my daughter-in-law has hyphenated her last name.