Band of (Mud) Brothers

It was down and dirty time today in Carlisle, as the E-Streeters (and a stray Grey Wolf) took to the hills of Great Brook farm for a sloppy trek through the trails and corn fields of the farm.

Tropical Storm/Depression Bill took its toll on the race course, creating sprawling puddles, thick sneaker-keeper mudholes and generally uncomfortable running conditions.

But that didn't stop all of us from doing it anyway, because proceeds from the race went to a good cause, cystic fibrosis research.

Further proof that NONE of us are fair weather runners.

From Bruce to the JoBros

Been gone way too long, but the busy dog days of summer have beckoned.

But just to get back in the swing of things, here's a quick and easy one.

It has become abundantly clear to me: One of the unexpected treasures of parenting that brings me immeasurable pleasure is experiencing a concert aside one of my children.

With Andrew, it's a Bruce Springsteen concert side-by-side pilgrimage. Watching him screaming the crescendos of Born to Run - fist-pumps, countdowns, anthem shouts and all - is a moving, unforgettable dosage of fatherhood. For that, Bruce, I will be eternally grateful.

And not to be diminished, it's a kick watching Heather in the throes of her own version of ear-splitting, 21st century Beatlemania at a Jonas Brothers concert.

These are the hidden surprises they never talked about in the parent's handbook.