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Author: Ken Bradford

September 7, 2023

A garden party Dad would have loved

One of my earliest memories is of my three brothers and me picking berries. I was 6 years old and my family had moved…

August 6, 2023

Choosing the right words wasn’t easy, Mom

I know that I talk too much. I spew out 140 words per minute, often for long stretches, and most of them are unnecessary….

August 1, 2023

Been there. Came home.

My parents trained me to dread travel. I was the youngest of four sons. We were frugal, and we made long car trips only…

July 3, 2023

Enduring another ‘Ball of Confusion’

The tomatoes in my garden needed a day of rain, and I did too. I consider myself to have an enviable life. I’ve been…

May 30, 2023

Years later, I’ve got that dream job … sort of

At my worst, one thought kept me from being a total failure. If all else fell apart, I could move to Texas and work…

April 29, 2023

Finding treasures and treats in small town settings

Bad news, the bartender said. We were in the Fulton Pub for our first time, shortly before noon on a Friday. Those words from…

March 23, 2023

DNA keeps spreading, just like a plague

I’ve written down the number 524,288 just to remind me how fortunate the four Bradford brothers are. For the past three decades, I’ve been…

March 16, 2023

When banks forget about Lenny and the like

I’m not an expert on bank failures, but I remember a lesson that came in a handwritten note from my father about 25 years…

February 26, 2023

There were heroes, and Rudy too, I guess

I have a habit of talking too much when I meet people at Notre Dame. I drive shuttle vans during the annual alumni reunions….

February 18, 2023

We must find ways to address our sordid past

I’ve been trying to think clearly about the reparations movement. Sometimes I feel like we’re all in a whirlwind about this. The premise is…

February 2, 2023

Wisdom doesn’t need to pass you by

A few years back, I saw an older man on a park bench and knew I had to stop for a talk. I was…

January 25, 2023

The truth of it is, we had our own George Santos

A good brain holds data in neat filing cabinets, alphabetized and ready for recall. Others, like mine, have stuff stored every which way, in…

January 20, 2023

Emergency Rental Assistance program gets high marks

It’s hard to get people to agree on anything. For example, just 84 percent of Americans – and 66 percent of millennials – were…

January 16, 2023

More than you need to know about my LPs

This shouldn’t take three months, but it probably will. I’m reorganizing my stereo LPs. I hesitate to use the word “collection” to describe what…

January 10, 2023

If you’re fightin’, you’re not winnin’

If you’re fightin’, you’re not winnin’ In 1974, during my sophomore year at Notre Dame, two of my classmates got fed up with the…

December 26, 2022

My excitement for the day

The neighbors two doors north were rocking their car back and forth, stuck in the driveway. If the wind chill hadn’t been minus-23, I…

December 17, 2022

Unfair all-star vote a lesson in racism 60 years later

Sometimes we feel that the past is past, and there’s nothing we can do about it. But sometimes there are lessons waiting for us…

November 29, 2022

Lessons linger from a first-grade teacher

Among my father’s keepsakes is a letter written many years ago by Lottie Pickerl. Mrs. Pickerl had been my first-grade teacher at German Township…

November 23, 2022

Searching for something in my sleep

One of the last conversations I had with my old friend Mike was about dreams. It came as little surprise to me that our…

November 7, 2022

Here I am, horking up another essay

I have a fair idea how I became an expert on bad writing. My first full-time job as a grownup in 1976 paid me…

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