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So, dear reader, it is imperative that you send this letter to nine friends within nine days in hopes of good fortune. If not, may the pagan gods protect you! P.S. April Fools' Day!
In honor of St. Patrick's Day, here's an Irish tale from Kevin O’Hara about Queenie and the Puck Fair
"During my donkey travels around Ireland in 1979, I met many unforgettable characters. However, none was quite so captivating as Queenie O’Brien, a traveler camped with her extended nomadic family outside the market town of Killorglin in County Kerry."
Kevin O'Hara writes: "It’s a universal truth that the older you get the more friends you lose. Sadly, I’m currently in a maelstrom of loss. My latest blow came last month from across the Atlantic."
Kevin O’Hara: You've probably seen Sal Marinaro running around Berkshire County, but do you know why he does it?
Who was that fellow running down this lonesome stretch of road? Haven’t I seen him before, in Windsor, perhaps, during a snowstorm? Or was it in Savoy, when he emerged through a wintry fog?
Eagle columnist Kevin O'Hara writes: "Imagine my delight when I opened her gift that Christmas morning to find a 'Little Country Doctor' play set."
Kevin O’Hara writes: "On Nov. 2, All Souls Day, I came very close to dying. My brush with death occurred while bagging leaves beneath our massive, 200-year-old sugar maple."
Eagle columnist Kevin O'Hara writes: "As trick-or-treaters prepare to attack every lit doorway in our fair city on Monday evening, my aging buddies and I recently reminisced over our own Halloweens — 1950s and '60s — when we took to the streets like zombies on steroids."
Imagine, being driven home on the Mass Pike by the greatest basketball player of all time — that's exactly what happened to columnist Kevin O'Hara and two of his friends one afternoon in 1965.
Years ago, when I was as fit as a billy goat, I’d team up with my diehard golfing buddies on June 21 1 the summer solstice — and play 36, 45 a…