The summer after junior year was the hottest one I can remember. Each and every day that month, the sun beat down mercilessly, turning Mama’s Ultraviolet flower bushes into depressed piles of dead...

Pop! If you go to a local park nowadays,  you’ll most likely see 64-year-old retirees swinging around a plastic racket and hitting a small plastic ball across the court. Pickleball is an uprising...