Paul Fussell, the wide-ranging, stingingly opinionated literary scholar and cultural critic whose admiration for Samuel Johnson, Kingsley Amis and the Boy Scout Handbook was balanced against his withering scorn for the romanticization of war, the predominance of television and much of American society, died on Wednesday in Medford, Ore. He was 88. His stepson Cole Behringer said he died of natural causes in the long-term care facility where he had spent the last two years. Mr. Fussell’s widely acclaimed books encompassed seminal works on World War II, social commentary (“Uniforms: Why We Are What We Wear”), literary criticism (“The Anti-Egotist: Kingsley Amis, Man of Letters”) and memoir (“Doing Battle: The Making of a Skeptic”). But he may be best remembered for “The Great War and ... Continue reading →

TUSCALOOSA, Ala. -- Something important is being lost. Each rising sun takes a little more from the couple who live in the small brick home southwest of downtown. Billy Varner has been married to Susie for 57 years, and as her life was once spent waiting on him to get home from a job that didn't know hours or days off, now it's spent managing his dementia. Each day brings its own reality. On the worst, Billy, who is 76, doesn't recognize Susie. He'll dress in the middle of the night and try to leave, his pajamas rolled up in his hand. Regularly, he refuses to believe that his old boss isn't at home waiting for a ride. Billy was Bear Bryant's driver, bodyguard and ... Continue reading →

By Warren St. John A few years ago I was near Lake Como in Italy preparing to ride several of the epic climbs of the Giro di Lombardia. I was especially looking forward to grinding my way up the legendary climb to the chapel of the Madonna del Ghisallo – a small church full of bikes that a pope blessed as a shrine to cyclists. I envisioned my arrival at the top of the Ghisallo in religious terms. I was ready to be touched by the spirits of Coppi and Bartali, to light a candle in honor of riders past, and to be cosmically realized as a cyclist. Before setting out from across the lake that morning, I met a local cyclist I knew to ... Continue reading →