Hobbled as I am by residual injury—I wear an ankle brace and limp a bit—and wheeling a large cornet/flugelhorn case, I was grateful when a man much younger than I held open a door for me as I entered the lobby for Elkhart’s Lerner Theatre. I was there plenty early to play a concert set,...
Author: David B. Schock (David B. Schock)
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David B. Schock
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August 1, 2001April 21, 2022Vital Signs
Calculated Acts of Goodness
How could this be? In a Catholic school? Here? This is what they’re teaching our kids? I stopped, transfixed. I had parked my car and sauntered into the Catholic middle school in search of my son. I was about to turn down the hall that led to his math class when I was struck by...
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June 1, 2001April 21, 2022Correspondence
Dancing at LaRue
The stars of the dance floor, a bantam couple, whirl to the “EE-II-EE-II-OO Polka,” a tune that would be obscure to almost anybody but the Mellotones. Their feet, tiny to start with, push each between the other’s with the precision of a sewing-machine needle working a button foot. Around and around they twirl, not with...