Right before the Feb. 22 game between the Vegas Golden Knights and Florida Panthers, Florida’s Aleksander Barkov and Vegas’ Max Pacioretty took the ceremonial opening puck from Team USA captain Mike Eruzione. Eruzione, the captain of the 1980 U.S. Olympic “Miracle” team, scored the winning goal against the Soviet National hockey team exactly four decades ago. Frozen in time is veteran sportscaster Al Michaels shout of exuberance:” Do you believe in Miracles? YES!”


Having spent most of my adult life in New England, I have always been impressed with the popularity of the sport of hockey in this part of the country. Fans and players al

ike indulge in the culture; stories of the big bad Bruins of Orr, Esposito and Company are still told. Back in the day, there were popular bumper stickers and tee shirts that read: “Jesus Saves… Esposito scores on the rebound!”


As an older student...

I looked forward to seeing my friend Rick, a fellow US Army veteran, at this coffee shop in Port City. It was a sparkling day in early November, the temperature in the '40s. I intended to sit outside on the patio. At the age of 25, Rick was more than ten years my junior. We had a significant bond, however, in that we had deployed to Iraq together in 2010/2011. I was his first line supervisor with our Military Police unit. I convinced Rick to join me at college, as a way to settle him down. When he returned from deployment, he dealt with his girlfriend dumping him through self-medication, alcohol. I convinced him to play sports and go back to college. When he asked why I bothered, I said that all of my soldiers were still covered by my extended service plan.

Rick was visibly excited about his recent semester abroad. He was most intrigued with his visit to the shrine for Saint Padre Pio in Italy. Saint Pio's remains were...

A couple of years ago, while walking down Main Street in Durham, and sporting my number 24 New York Knicks throwback jersey (one of four that I own, this one Hall of Famer Bill Bradley), a vehicle full of undergraduate young men gave me a ride-by shout-out and informed me that “THE KNICKS SUCK!” Based off of the Knick’s record from 2013 until now, I have to concede that they had a point.  The team is snake bitten by inept ownership and management. For this, the second edition of UNH’s Main Street Magazine for fall semester of 2019, I have prevailed upon the editors to allow me page space to articulate just what Knicks basketball means to people from that city, and across the country.

The team, currently the highest valued in the NBA at 4 billion dollars (Forbes.com), was created in 1946 by Ned Irish, as part of the newly founded Basketball Association of America. The BAA became the NBA in 1949. The Knicks were a winnin...

On April 9, 1963, the USS Thresher departed the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard for sea trials (deep diving exercises) en route to an area approximately 200 miles East of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Lieutenant Commander John Wesley Harvey was in command. The lead boat in her class of nuclear-powered attack submarines, Thresher had 112 crew members and 17 technical observers on board.

Accompanied by her escort ship USS Skylark, Thresher began her final mission in the early morning of April 10, 1963.  Tragically, one hundred and twenty-nine sailors and civilians were lost when Thresher unexpectedly plunged to the sea floor, more than 8,400 feet beneath the waves.

As a child I was intrigued by submarines; I read Clive Cussler’s Raise the Titanic in junior high school, and received my scuba certification in 1983. Between military enlistments I went to a trade school in New York for commercial diving, and worked briefly in two relate...

I trust that Beatles fans will be forgiving when I utilize the song that was released in 1970 to illustrate my road to the University of New Hampshire in Durham.

After living the first 10 years of my life in New York (mid-Hudson valley region) and attending high school in Florida, I entered the military for the first time in 1981.

I was initially assigned to Pease Air Force Base (AFB) on the New Hampshire seacoast. Now Pease International Tradeport, in the 1980s it was still under the Strategic Air Command (SAC). There were FB-111s (a type of tactical attack aircraft) staged for counter strike if a worst case scenario should ever develop; this was still during the Cold War.

I recall flying in to Logan Airport for the first time in April of 1982; myself and my buddies caught the C and J limo to Pease. (This was the predecessor to C and J Bus service.) We were dropped off right at the gate to Pease; in our Class A uniforms...

A returning veteran deals with homelessness in Vacationland, U.S.A.


I wonder what happens when you don’t eat for 48 hours, Matt pondered as he used his cell phone to dial the Bank of Central Florida. He was not expecting his direct deposit yet, however, better to check than assume otherwise and miss out. "Please enter the last four digits of your debit card number" prompted the recording. Matt did as instructed. “Now please enter your four-digit access code.” While he waited for his balan...

As a card carrying Basketball Jones, I am excited about the proximity of the upcoming basketball season. (Perhaps you have seen me around campus, sporting the Hardwood Classic throwback jerseys. Incidentally, I am seeing more and more of the younger students doing the same-very cool!)


Since I am an older student, I grew up watching many of the all-time greats, both on television and in person. I often engage in good natured debates with my classmates about G.O.A.T.s (greatest of all time) by position and team. I asked the fine editors of MSM if I could secure page space to record the great players and games that I have witnessed, then compare them with YOUR favorites.


LeBron in Los Angeles? This could be the second coming of Showtime, when Earvin “Magic” Johnson no look passed the Lakers to NBA titles in 1980, 82, 85, 87, and 88. I find it interesting that Lebron, after Kyrie Irving...

The freezing rain intensified, like it had something personal against me. Not that I was underdressed; for a homeless man, I have to say that the sweatshirt underneath the old leather bomber jacket was more than warm enough. I suppose that the real irritant was the pelting droplets of ice mixed with the rain, and how they flew almost horizontally.

Scanning the surrounding urban environment, I spied the familiar outlines of an old church. I recalled from childhood how churches were left open at all hours to shelter the needy or provide prayer space. As I reached for the old ornate handle on the heavy wooden door, I questioned whether the uncertain world of the modern city had changed that custom.

I pulled, and the door swung open. It was as if the old church was welcoming me with open arms. I stepped quickly out of the entrance and off to the side. Old Army habits die hard; do not hesitate and silhouette yourself in a do...

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