It’s just not nice to be hit with a snowball with a rock in it. At Cove, we forbade the use of rocks. They took the fun out of a good snowball fight. We hid behind the walls of our forts, a wall of giant snowballs that could be four or five feet high. Behind the wall, we…
I was down on the floor on my hands and knees when John Sweetman walked in the door. “What are you doing,” he asked? “I have lost a gold crown while biting into a Winter apple,” I replied. John got right down on the floor to help me look. My little Jack Russell Terrier was hunting the floor with…
By Seán Malone and John Sweetman As kids, we seemed to start out on a rather low rung of the evolutionary ladder. Pretty much all our activity – not strictly devoted to mere troublemaking – was of the “hunter/gatherer” nature. We were always on the lookout for useful items: driftwood, food plants, clams, stinky dead…
By Seán Malone and John Sweetman John Sweetman and I were sipping beer in front of a roaring fire in the cozy confines of my log cabin overlooking outer Quartermaster Harbor. “Why don’t you write about that thieving raven you had in Republic,” John suggested. I laughed like hell when the raven tore out of…
By Seán Malone & John Sweetman We sat together on Seán’s deck overlooking outer Quartermaster and lifted a small glass of single malt as a mutual toast to the revival of “The Loop.” The deck in particular had been the “source” of many of our stories that ran in the earlier Loop; which had earlier…