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By GENE STAMELL

 As a child, I never celebrated Easter. In the spring, my family looked forward to Passover and the seder, at which the kids could search for hidden afikomen (matzoh wrapped in a napkin) and request presents from the adults at the table. (One year, my...

By GENE STAMELL

 In this column, I hope I don’t come across as an old, persnickety curmudgeon, unable to adapt to ever-changing times and mores. Yes, I still use boring he/him pronouns, but I fully accept and approve of people choosing the pronouns and lifestyles...

By GENE STAMELL

 I’m an X-Large. I used to be 5-foot-9, I am now 5-foot-7 and I still wear an X-Large.It isn’t pretty, dear reader, but there will be no problem fitting me into a coffin or oven.I’m leaning toward the latter, but I’m still undecided.It is not unusual...

By GENE STAMELL

I compose this column on a deck overlooking the Pacific Ocean in a seaside town of Newport, Oregon. I have just returned from the Lincoln County Fair, a mini-festival of vendors, livestock auctions, and country music, a venue that cried out to me,...

By GENE STAMELL

 It is a ludicrous endeavor to attempt to fit all human beings into two distinct categories. But if my life depended upon my doing so (or if I were to refuse to do so at the risk of being condemned to sit in a cinema, watching “The Piano” over and...

By GENE STAMELL

 Columnist’s note: The following contains many parenthetical asides and seemingly unimportant details that somehow, one hopes, lead to a conclusion that the reader finds moderately interesting or entertaining or, at the very least, bearable.  Once...

By GENE STAMELL

No doubt, some of you Pioneer Valley folks will read this column and want it renamed “A Wimp’s Tale” or something to that effect. “Oh, the poor man! A bat is living in his house. Alert the Armed Forces, call out the SWAT team! How will he survive this...

By GENE STAMELL

For the great majority of my life, I haven’t given the term “narcissism” much thought. The condition simply didn’t cross my radar. Certainly, I have known a number of people who possessed large, overinflated egos, but it wasn’t until I started...

By GENE STAMELL

My teaching career has spanned well over four decades. I recall staining and ruining many perfectly good shirts and sweaters while hand-cranking copies of math papers on ditto machines. Yes, back then, teaching sometimes resulted in strong biceps and...

By GENE STAMELL

During the course of our lives, each of us is ascribed many titles and roles. A few of mine, in chronological order, include son, cousin, brother, friend, boyfriend, husband, uncle, father, songwriter, teacher and grandfather. It is fun and humbling...

By GENE STAMELL

I have concluded there are two types of people in the world: those who are content with a B and those who will settle for nothing short of an A. Perhaps the term “Type A Personality” has its origins in our grading system, though I am too lazy to do...

By GENE STAMELL

I changed my razor blade this morning. I realize this revelation falls far short of being categorized as earth-shattering news. But if you bear with me, dear reader, you may recognize some parts of yourself in the following self-reflection — and I’m...

By GENE STAMELL

I need a new cellphone. My iPhone 8 is more than just six generations old; it is cracked and crotchety, begging to be replaced. And, unfortunately, I am wedded to purchasing iPhones. I have used Apple products, exclusively, throughout my...

By GENE STAMELL

For those readers who like to skim through guest columns, you are in luck. If you have ever traveled on Southwest Airlines, I invite you to hop down to paragraph four. For all others, I offer the following, brief description of Southwest’s boarding...