MINNEAPOLIS -- He did it with mirrors, right? He was air-dropped in by helicopter? Wait. I know -- he was disguised in a Vikings uniform the first three quarters, then ripped off the purple on that first play of the fourth. That's it? Something like that? There has to be an explanation for how wide open Herman Moore was on that one incredible play, Halloween night, when the weirdness began and didn't stop until the Lions had a strange, questionable, but ultimately huge come-from-behind victory.
It's that time of year again, when the temperature drops and winds howl and snowstorms hit and so people naturally say, "Hey, let's go up in a plane!"This explains the huge lines at ticket counters this past week, as airlines ran their annual "holiday" fares.(By the way, the word "holiday," as we all know, is airline code for "more small print at the bottom of the ad." No one has ever read this print, since even a cockroach would need glasses to do that. However, scientific research reveals that one of the lines, blown up 5,000 times, reads as follows:
NEWS ITEM: Pitcher Mitch Williams, distraught over the World Series and death threats from Phillies fans, did not join the team when it returned from Toronto. Some say we never will see him in a Phillies uniform again. His whereabouts are unknown.The year: 2018. Date: Oct. 26. Ship's log, somewhere in the South Pacific.A bad storm hit last night. The ship crashed against the rocks. I washed up on this uncharted desert island.
Although I have forgotten many stories from my youth, there is one I will always remember. It concerned my father. There was a snowstorm. A bad one. The car stalled in the middle of nowhere. I was a newborn infant, in need of food, and so my father left my mother and me in the car, and ran through the snow until he found a small tavern. He pleaded with the unreasonable owner, asking for milk. The owner kept saying no. His wife overheard the conversation, came from the back with a carton of milk, and said, "Take it. For your son."My father thanked her, found us, and fed me.
Mitch Albom writes about running an orphanage in impoverished Port-au-Prince, Haiti, his kids, their hardships, laughs and challenges, and the life lessons he’s learned there every day.
