Glenn Kubish

A place I know strikes me as the story of a village that in the glorious old days was visited by a Christ-like figure, a supreme being whose otherworldly talent was recognized at a tender age in the community temples and whose fame was proclaimed far and wide. This Great One grew in power and renown, attracting apostles from their artisan and craftsman lives, some of whom were adept at bloodying with their swords the faces of opponents, some of whom followed faithfully his ability to glide atop water, all of whom were led to the holy grail and the greater world beyond. View from the heavens These few attained a kind of sublime eternity, but many of the residents of this small village, these ones who stayed behind, grew proud, convincing themselves that it was their merit, and not their fortune, that had attracted the blessings of the divine talents who moved, for a time, in their midst. These villagers committed a kind of mass, logical fallacy on themselves, manufacturing out of...

My friend Robin Stevenson is one of the bright, believing band. She is a Chicago Cubs fan. And this is a precious time of year for her. It is the day before Opening Day, and that means the Cubs have yet to open new ways to excite and entertain and, then, ultimately, disappoint her in some newly devised, hardly imaginable way to disappoint her! A couple of weeks ago at work a few of us had to tell short stories about ourselves. Robin spoke openly about her affection for Wrigley's boys of summer. And the beautiful game of baseball. I enjoyed her words. Here they are.  This is why I love baseball. I have loved baseball since I was around ten years old. I love it because you can understand the basics of the game fairly easily. You can see how powerful a home run is by the crack of the bat and how far the ball travels. You can see how graceful and athletic a diving catch is. It is dramatic even in its simplest form. But here’s the thing: I have learned something new about the ga...