Sure, he was slow to walk with at ballgames, and he told jokes I didn’t understand. But what a grandpa he was. For years, I thought he might’ve been Santa Claus.
Author: chriserskinela
Chris Erskine is a nationally known humor columnist and former editor for the Los Angeles Times. He wrote for the Sports, Travel and Saturday sections. As an editor, he was part of two Pulitzer Prize-winning teams at The Times (for his graphics work on the Northridge quake and the North Hollywood bank robbery). He is best known to readers for his weekly humor pieces on life in suburban Los Angeles. His latest book, "Lavender in Your Lemonade," is about dealing with a pandemic. “Daditude,” released in 2018, is a collection of his favorite Times columns on fatherhood. He has written two other books, “Man of the House” and “Surviving Suburbia,” which reached the Los Angeles Times bestseller list. The Chicago native has also worked for papers in New Orleans and Miami.
Xmas Tips and Trivia
What does “hurkle-durkle” mean? (hint: You do it in bed).
RIP, Pac-12
To me, it’s like the end of the Jazz Age. Or when Cronkite went off the air. So long, Pac-12. This may be the stupidest thing I've ever seen.
Bring On the Nog
God and Norman Rockwell still reside in little church halls like this one, where the Kiwanis meet weekly for song and fellowship.
The Thud of the Oven Door
I remember the thud of the oven when my folks basted the bird. I remember the sage, the sizzle, the grease….
Hope and Pumpkin Pie
What we actually celebrate at Thanksgiving is the resounding idea that, in America, everything will turn out OK. That it will deliver on our dreams. Maybe not as it once did. Or maybe, for some, better than it ever has before.
This Windy City
Sails equal horsepower, and artisans build them the way God makes tulips, strong and no thicker than absolutely necessary.
Our Favorite Joint
Doesn’t everyone need a loud and loving Mexican place that opens to the sidewalk, where the hosts half-recognize you when you walk in the door?
What a Table, What a Night
Had a lovely evening at the California Club the other night, where my pals Blaine and Lynda gave us a behind-the-scenes tour of the kitchen, all gleaming, all prepped to woooooosh out 250 meals in 15 minutes, which I don’t believe is humanly possible, yet time after time I see it at banquets and bar … Continue reading What a Table, What a Night
Mirth. Playfulness. Friendship.
The notion of afterglow comes to mind, in the wake of this ridiculous tailgate party we had the other afternoon, in the slanting light of late October. There was happenstance. There were kegs. Old friends jostled for position at the bar as Miller fed them glass after glass of lime juice and tequila, a form … Continue reading Mirth. Playfulness. Friendship.