Chris Erskine's 'Middle Ages' columns

Chris Erskine's 'Middle Ages' columns
Los Angeles Times columnist Chris Erskine. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
The January blahs are a thing. I actually kind of like them

January is dads on ladders taking down the lights and moms deciding when to toss the half-dead poinsettias. January is obligation and diets. But it's real.

I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. Reflections on L.A.’s ominous cycle of grief

Every region has its battles. At first, the prospect of some rain in drought-stricken California seemed reassuring.

Putting away the holidays: My musings from the rum cloud of a post-Christmas funk

I think it was a successful season, though there are always misfires – something I said in jest taken seriously, a flubbed or forgotten gift.

I think family is where you find it — on the football field or at Christmas Eve Mass

As the old song says, we were happy in a million ways this past holiday, amid our fellow misfits and malcontents. In fact, it's sometimes hard to tell friends from family.

Let Christmas be like those holiday sweaters, a little zany but oh so cozy

Here’s the thing: If you get Christmas 60% right, you’ve still got a lot of Christmas. Chasing a perfect holiday leads to stress and disappointment.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas. And a blizzard of bitcoin

As gifts, I’m giving my kids a digital currency based on the value of mermaids and unicorns. I mean, who even knows what bitcoin looks like?

Christmas feels bloated and broken. It should only last 12 days. Let me explain...

Under this new holiday plan, the first day of Christmas would be Dec. 20, roughly coinciding with the first day of winter. Pancakes and PJs would also have their own day. This 12-step plan would mean more friendship, fewer things.

In the harvest season, life is in the kitchen. I could walk from house to house, stirring things

The 300-pound beagle has more ego than I do. But at least the new wolf loves me. At least I think that's love. Do I care?

Tips from me, the birthday boy: Grill beef quickly and always appreciate a tight spiral

61 seems kind of well-cooked. But it's a fine age, and I find charred beef tastes even better these days.

I say bring on the rain, bring on the holiday feasts. A little change is good for us

November is a month of firsts. And, amid them, there are small moments of parenthood. "Dad, can you do this?"

My house is a practical joke. I make a repair, then have to repair my repairs

This is the stuff of real life. The faucets leak and so does the roof. You sure don't see these issues come up on "This Is Us."

I'm visiting Santa Monica, that city by the bay

Perched on the Pacific, Big Dean's might be the best bar in America. How do I know? I read it in my own Instagram.

Doc, is goofiness a disease or a personal choice? Because I'm seeing a lot of it lately

During a pediatrician visit, Dad voices concern over the boy's behavior. But it turns out that being goofy is quite normal for that age.

I think all happiness begins with the mouth — a chicken wing, a sloppy kiss...

Live a little, because life blows by too quickly. Old buddies prove that. Besides, fall is something to celebrate.

Hiking club takes on Lake Hollywood, then discovers a bar where the American Dream still drinks

Are there snakes on this trail? Of course there are snakes. We're in the middle of L.A., after all.

On a road trip up the coast, I linger too long over lighthouses and eat way too much pie. Surprised?

Off I went, in a cheesy rental car, ugly as a fire truck, on airless tires that rattled over every road seam.

I threw a tailgate, with tri-tip and turtledoves — and a whole bunch of beautiful minds.

They came for the keg and enlightened conversation. It was proof again that L.A. weekends are too short.

I lost my wife in the fantasy football draft. Let me explain.

I was busy re-writing the will, so I flubbed the online setup. I'm the kind of guy who shouldn't rush anything.

I’ve got a 14-year-old: Here’s what my Friday nights look like now

Kids and pets give back. It's just their nature. But is it enough?

Yep, you can go home again. Now, back in L.A., it's time to prep for the coming harvest

Strong and active, Posh is bracing for the coming winter by buying patio furniture. That's a good sign.

My guitar gently weeps for Chicago, John Prine, sinful sandwiches and the old 'hood near Wrigley

The lake is the color of Charlize Theron's eyes. And the weather? Much like the Med (at least for now).

My hometown: A week of fireflies, messy conversations and distant train whistles in the night

It's a village smothered in sour cream. Fifty years ago, I roamed the backyards barefoot, snatching apples and other kids’ Schwinns.

Finally, it's time to chill a little. I want a heavy book and nothing to do

The mountains call. So does the Midwest. On vacation, the time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.

L.A. is a place of empty rivers and full hearts. Here's my guide for a newcomer.

Sure, 20% of the population believes in unicorns. But don't judge too quickly. Besides, L.A. changes from minute to minute anyway.

Here are some of the ways our children helped their mother cope with cancer

There my daughter goes again with the "dad bod" stuff. I mean, enough with the stereotyping!

Mother Ocean calls me on a roasting midsummer day. I feel as if I've been harpooned

California, a land of enlightenment and mirth, has a strange notion of what a beach should be.

My lunch with screen legend Angie Dickinson reminds me that millennials are overrated

Live a little, chase some stories. Because in the end, those are the treasures that really count.

It's too early. We’re in the middle of nowhere. But it's beautiful to see the kid play ball

The moms are in one spot; the dads in another. And victory is always a heartbeat away.

For Father's Day this year, all I want is a 'dad bod'

Dad jokes. Dad bods. Daditude. The dad brand is very hot right now. But you won't believe how easy Father's Day can be.

Posh is recovering nicely: It's been a total team effort (and I am the water boy)

Her secret weapons were a Wonder Woman oncologist, a rock star chemo nurse and a warrior spirit.

My daughter's been stealing my wine and other confessions to kick off summer

We celebrate summer, children, kabobs -- and random acts of larceny. Let the festivus begin!

Of all the potential pals in the universe, I end up with these guys?

As usual, we got out of hand at dinner the other night. Apologies to anyone within 100 miles.

How the Queen and I spent a particularly decadent Mother's Day

The kids honor Mom like crazy, and wait till you get a taste of this dessert.

Dear Mom, thanks for ... well, thanks for just about everything

We can never repay moms for all they do, which makes Mother's Day so impossible.

The winds have fried my fridge, the TV and the new dryer in a blitz of bad luck. What's next?

A power surge knocks out the major appliances. If only I hadn't spent the yard sale loot.

I'm throwing a yard sale: Everything must go!

Getting rid of unused junk is an American tradition. And you can get very rich, one quarter at a time.

My Easter featured rogue Russians and exploding eggs. How was yours?

Mom locks herself in the bathroom just to escape the typical family drama.

As my son dreams of the big leagues, puberty doesn’t make life’s curveballs any easier

Beware, Moms and Dads: Our little screwballs are growing up. Good grief...

With my wife on the mend, I'm working to return our house to semi-chaos

As I tell the kids, butchering meals isn’t a chore, it’s a privilege.

I just realized: My dogs eat better than I do

A 300-pound beagle and a sassy new pup remind us of the whimsy of dogs

Down at the county jail, they're praying for Posh. At a Wisconsin seminary too

Her stud doctor is thrilled with early chemo results, as Posh's cancer fight goes on.

If I don't pay all these medical bills, I could lose the house? Thank goodness

The costs are piling up, he's falling down -- and there's no end in sight.

What's another little mouth to feed?

Dog sniffs out the tiny bird. And, between medical visits, we take in a new tenant.

I asked for the honeymoon suite. We got chemo bay No. 8 in the cancer annex

Greetings from chemo bay No. 8, in the cancer annex of a local hospital. We're in week 2 of an 18-inning battle.

Readers reach out to columnist Chris Erskine and Posh in their time of need

Readers reach out to Los Angeles Times columnist Chris Erskine and his wife, a.k.a. Posh, after he revealed her cancer diagnosis.

After cancer diagnosis, a family pulls together and L.A. shows its 'ginormous heart'

Seven Krispy Kreme donuts? It's not a cure, but boyish goofiness is good medicine.

We never saw the cancer diagnosis coming. And all I can ask is: 'Why her?'

Suddenly, her life is tubes and get-well cards, and lab techs poking around for another vein.

They’re just a pair of PJs. Or are they? My case for the silly things that soothe the soul

It's the little things that satisfy the soul. And that's not a little thing.

It's a tight race as readers decide whether I should 'trash the 'stache'

In the first pivotal election of the new year, the columnist's mustache was in a close race for its political life.

Should I stir the pot and lose the mustache? You decide

The mustache seems to have reached its expiration date. Like the holiday lights, it may need to come down.

To recap: Ours was a Christmas of snitty fits and small glories

A family Christmas can be complicated and gross. But still, it lures back the kids

I'm ready for Christmas, a holiday so significant Tchaikovsky set it to music

For Christmas, it's the little things that count. Even fruitcake fraps.

Amid life's mysteries: Since when did Brussels sprouts become a dish we crave?

Even in L.A., you can find your friend-filled Bedford Falls

Maybe I'm a Kardashian? Guess that's the risk to one of these ancestry kits

Columnist tries ancestry kit to fill out the family tree. Could he be a Beatles baby? The possibilities make him drool.

Most teenagers are insane. I like that in a person

The little guy is turning 14, an age to celebrate with song.

You really think this helps? This insane hunger for the holidays?

I don't have all the answers. But here are some holiday survival tips

I don't snort at turning 60. I mark the moment with fire, malcontents and steak sauce

At 60, he takes time to reflect on his collection of rare children

60 can be extremely sexy — at least, if it's played right

For a good time, give him middle age — filled with friends and scary athleticism.

A season redolent of wet wool and high school homecomings

He'll open an orphanage, over run with apples and peculiar children

If you laugh enough, things turn out OK. Just ask a Cubs fan.

In the Cubs, he sees a connection to his father and the faith that things will turn out OK

A dad, a son, an eighth-grade science project. Stand back.

You can’t see the answers because there is A.1. steak sauce all over his homework. Where his name should be, there is ketchup. Like Jackson Pollock, the little

He's coming to terms with middle age. His Batman-themed party is proof

As 60th birthday approaches, lots of reasons to celebrate.

Scottish hunting lodge? No, an orphanage for peculiar children

He wants to open an orphanage, fill it with tater tots and soccer players,

Sun-dappled and flavored in barbecue smoke, a tailgate to remember

Tailgating might be the best Boomer contribution of all

Millennials need to start having more sex. Now.

So we’re getting into the new school year routine, and it’s going very well. We wake at what must be 3 in the morning. My coffee tastes like cigarette butts.

A free vacation? Sure, Dad, let me see what works for my boyfriend

It’s late August and the dog needs a bath. Actually, he needs three baths. After his third bath, he needs to be rolled in powdered sugar. He’d still stink, but

Compared to parenthood, dropping my daughter off at LAX is a breeze. So long, kid

The only good thing about a long drive to LAX? More time with my daughter, who's heading to her new home.

My daughter left L.A. for Ohio. We're trying to lure her back with sunsets and siblings

Chris Erskine's younger daughter has moved to Cincinnati but visits L.A. often on business. He's trying hard not to let his feelings show.

Hello? Adele? I want you to meet my 'little brother'...

I used to write with music playing in the background till I realized the rhythms were interfering with my work. Like music, writing relies on attractive

13 years later, our beagle is a jumbo-sized bundle of mirth, mayhem and methane

For a beagle, barking is yoga and eating is sex.

My teen is off to tennis camp this summer. What to pack for the puppy-man?

God isn’t “in the details,” as the saying goes. He’s in our children.

This is no way to keep my treasured family photos — or is it?

None of our kids would be what you would call “the most reliable.”

My 7 essential rules of summer — and for 'Finding Dory'

I think we found Dory. The kids tried to eat her, of course.

'Say hello to Grace Kelly': I'm introducing my teen to the classics

What cool classics such as 'Rear Window' and Grace Kelly can teach a clueless teen about life

Hey, Siri: What's the best way to survive a summer like this?

Go ahead, moms and dads, try to solve parenthood. Chris Erskine ponders the issue while tallying the cost of hiring a math tutor for the little guy.

This Father's Day, I'd like to pass on a few 'dadisms' – little bolts of wisdom

My goal this summer is to get the little guy to listen to one Harry Chapin song. And to paint his bedroom. That's it. One song, one bedroom. Simple dad, simple

Smell the Chardonnay? Smell the baseball socks? Yep, another simmering summer is at hand

If you’ve had teens before, you know what flawed yet wonderful insects they are about to become. They lose their freckles. They lose their puppy breath.

I'm sandwiched between one kid who won't grow up and another who's flying the coop

The one where our columnist finds himself caught between one kid who won't grow up and another who's flying the coop.

A semester abroad? When do Mom and Dad get to do that?

Millennials have it made. They go to for a semester abroad, while parents stay home.

Pondering one of life's toughest questions: How many children should I have?

Pondering life's most challenging query: 'How many children should I have?'

Advice to grads: Uber down the road less traveled

I'm not so good with words.

Barking dogs. Barking dads. It's a wonder I'm alive at all.

Someone had a funny line the other day about barking dogs. He wondered if, when we yell at the dog to stop barking, the dog is thinking: "This is awesome! Now

The stranger in the coffee shop had a tale of uncommon devotion

Chris Erskine chats up a coffee shop neighbor and learns a lesson in fidelity.

I don't ask much from my children, but we can at least agree on Lake Tahoe

Over dinner, Chris Erskine and his daughters let themselves get carried off in dreams of a Lake Tahoe family vacation.

Hoofing to a watering hole with my 60 new friends in the Happy Hour Hiking Club — now that's living

Chris Erskine makes 60 new friends who are just off-kilter enough to join the Happy Hour Hiking Club.

Why jogging in L.A. is so invigorating: I could get hit by a Prius or a venture capitalist

Chris Erskine goes jogging and has a close call with a Prius; then some cyclists get involved. All he wanted were banana pancakes.

A father, son and son's buddy go on a Dodgers spring training odyssey

This trip to Dodgers spring training in Arizona includes a truck fire, a budget motel and, thank goodness, prime rib and baseball.

Moderation is fine, but only in moderation

Middle Ages columnist Chris Erskine opens his Happy Hour Hiking Club to public membership. A hike in Pasadena, followed by a pint.

The world runs on bad luck. Call it Erskine's Law.

Chris Erskine sees that Mother Nature is out of whack, which can only mean bad things for him. He lives under Erskine's Law.

The Happy Hour Hiking Club lifts the spirits of suburbia's overlooked adults

Needing a break from his workaday routine, Chris Erskine forms a neighborhood group to explore the great outdoors (and pub grub).

We paid for our son to get metal cleats on his teeth, just as he's learning about the Middle Ages

Chris Erskine writes that braces are just another step in parents' crusade for perfect show dogs, er, children.

Dear Daughter, I'm sending you a care package. It includes your mother.

Chris Erskine's letter to his recently moved daughter includes a promise of a most thoughtful care package.

Musings on this marathon we call life

Chris Erskine, still recovering from the Los Angeles Marathon, ponders other marathons in our lives.

I've always been the retiring sort, and the time is ripe for idling with bacon and sunsets

Chris Erskine's contemplation of the end of the road leads to bacon and the Cubs. Maybe Beyonce will sing at the funeral.

Buttering up the millennials (or at least their coffee) to try to understand

Chris Erskine: The millennials are a generation that is redefining taste — they even put butter in their coffee.

The younger daughter is leaving L.A. for Cincinnati. It can't be because of my jokes, can it?

Chris Erskine: Change is all around as the all-grown-up little red-haired girl moves to Cincinnati.

Daughter hears the siren call of Cincinnati. Dad just hears sirens

Chris Erskine: The youngest daughter may move the farthest from home — Cincinnati! — in the deepest, darkest of February.

Caring for others is sweet, kind of like maple syrup injected into breakfast sausages

Chris Erskine is tempted to throw out his family over bad credit and/or taste in TV. But maybe they're keepers.

I've got a little New Year's news for you: Change is not good.

Chris Erskine says goodbye to the small-talk holiday parties and hello to listening to Pandora via his phone.

Celebrating the new Christmas classics of tuba concerts and high-production-value cards

Chris Erskine: An all-tuba concert brings depth to a Christmas that sparkles with the pride of parenting (look at our cards!).