The Race is Run

My dad didn’t discover he was an athlete until he was in his fifties. Born in 1922 and living much of his childhood in the depths of the Great Depression, he spent much more time on Hollywood Boulevard selling magazines than he did on a ball field…any kind of ball field. My brother and I, fanatic baseball players from an early age, were a little embarrassed on those few occasions that he subbed in for our little league coach. Let’s just say he handled a…

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A place for duuudes of all sexes, ages, religions, and coffee-preferences to hang out and shoot the sh!t about their latest creations, to brag, lament, query, or quote, it’s all good…

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John Griswold

John Griswold

Master carpenter, watercolor artist and beat up old jock…owned by Black Lab Bo who considers two tennis balls a minimum mouthful

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