Heat wave

"What dreadfully hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance." Jane Austen wrote that and our Buffalo weatherman Mike Randall posted it on Facebook. Everyone is weighing in with opinions on our heat wave.

The best comment comes from a Lancaster guy named Thomas Hughes. How British is that, Thomas Hughes of Lancaster. Anyway, he writes: "I imagine Vivaldi had not Buffalo in mind (if it had existed mind you) when he wrote his Four Seasons Concerto. How does one bring forth Snow ("Fall"), More snow ("Winter"), Some more snow still ("Spring"), and Slush ("Summer") in a composition? LOL."

Me, I am done having opinions about the weather. It is completely beyond my control. I cannot argue it or work to change it because you know what the weather is going to do? Whatever the hell it wants!

That is a joke from my friend Gary. Gary ....

... is single and if you ask him what he is going to do today he will answer: "Whatever the hell I want!" Ha, ha! I like to ask him that question just to get that answer. I used to do stuff like that with Pennario. You could ask him a question as a joke knowing what he was going to answer.

Pennario, Pennario. Guess what I have been doing all morning?

Whatever the hell I wanted! And you can guess what that was.

Finally just now I checked Facebook. I am good about not doing that before it is ready to wind up whatever minimal work time I have been able to scrounge.That was when I saw Mike Randall's Jane Austen quote.

Howard and I laugh about how on Facebook everyone in Buffalo generally friends everyone else. You do not have to know the person. It is perfectly normal in this town to be friends with all kinds of TV people. They interact with you and you get to know them personally.

Once all our weathermen began fighting on Facebook. That would never happen in any other town. Things got bad and people were trying to intercede.

"Gentlemen," someone wrote, "we can't all be right all the time."


It is a wonderful town, Buffalo.

Even if it does threaten to keep us in a continual state of inelegance.

Of teachers and preachers

Z is for Zumba. It is also for Zut alors!

Last night this Zumba class I was looking forward to and moved mountains to be able to get to was canceled. There was a problem with the air conditioning. The Buffalo Athletic Club seems to have air conditioning issues these days. Last week the air conditioning was on the fritz at the downtown gym. Now it had hit the BAC for Women on Colvin.

We could have Zumba-ed in the heat but they said the floor was wet somehow.

I ran into my friend Nicole in the parking lot and we were standing there with our gym bags, bereft, like a couple of stray puppies. The teacher came out of the gym and we pleaded with her, please, couldn't we figure out some way to have class? She just kind of snarled at us, "Tough luck" -- and disappeared.

OK, she was not really that bad. But she had no time for us, you could tell that. We did not exactly blame her. Probably we were the 100th and 101st people to complain. But still.

It is funny when people behave differently out of context! Here we were used to this teacher being all warm and encouraging and gentle-spoken in class. Then we find out she is this normal human being.

That happened a long time ago with a street preacher who used to preach on the corners of downtown Buffalo. My friend Anne, who was my roommate at the time, she and I used to love this preacher. He was this cute hippie type and he would stand on the corner and preach with passion and poetry. Like John the Baptist, pictured above. Or the Prophet Isaiah.

Once we heard him declaiming, "Who is He who gathers the winds in His fist?"

At Christmas time I gave him a candy cane and he smiled and said, "Praise the Lord."

He was the Leonard Pennario of preachers! His preaching was like Pennario playing Liszt. Shining and extroverted and sparkling. We loved him.

Then one day Anne was eating at Pano's. This was back when Pano's was this little scruffy diner, before Pano got all high and mighty and discontinued his famous orange shakes and started knocking down historic houses. And she realized to her astonishment that the preacher was at the next table with a friend of his. And she heard him saying: "So when did you get your hair cut?"

Nothing bad or anything, just disappointingly, crushingly mundane.

It happens!

Going to the chapel

Yesterday I was realizing how unusual my life is. Perhaps it is a Buffalo thing. Our lives here in Buffalo are not usual!

I go to this wonderful Zumba class where I know the teacher and the other students. From thence I go to that idyllic garage sale which, to equal that, you would have to visit the world's great marketplaces.

Then I went to Mass at Our Lady Help of Christians. Usually I go to St. Anthony's in the morning but when my mom is thinking of going with me I go sometimes to Our Lady Help. That is the original name. In German it was Maria Hilf. Mary Help.

Sometimes, I will tell you this, I feel like saying that. Mary, help!

Our Lady Help is such an idyllic little chapel, I was sitting there thinking, very few people are lucky enough to be able to go to Mass, just on a whim, in a church like this. It was built in the 1850s. The picture above is of the altar after Mass. The Mass has just ended and the six candles are still burning.

Here is another shot.

And another.

Our Lady Help was built by a German immigrant who wanted to give thanks because he got to America safely. The ship he was sailing on was caught in a terrible storm and he invoked the name of Our Lady Help of Christians, Star of the Sea, and promised that if they made it, he would build this church.

Wow, I should promise that when my book on Leonard Pennario is finally finished, I will build a church! Unfortunately now with the Bishop closing churches I am not sure how he would cotton to the thought of my building one. Some things you used to be able to do then, you cannot do now.

What got me onto that? Back to Maria Hilf. Until a few decades ago, big long parades of pilgrims would walk there. It was especially popular among the Germans, the Polish and the Italians. The church's Web site says the largest pilgrimage took place on V-J Day.

Somewhere along the line someone got the smart idea to knock down the chapel but luckily it was not knocked down. They built a boring modern church next door but the chapel was declared too sacred and unique to destroy. Why is it that in Buffalo everything is always on the brink of demolition? You just have to wonder that sometimes.


Our Lady Help of Christians sits almost right across the street from Airport Plaza Jeweler...

... which adds to its artistic integrity as far as I am concerned. Howard and I always admire Airport Plaza Jeweler for its efficient and ingenious design.

Here is the Wikipedia entry on Maria Hilf.

I am proud to say that it is also a Pub Crawler National Landmark.

Go to Our Lady Help of Christians sometime even if all you do is sit there and soak up the good vibes.

It is a beautiful place!

Green day

Today between going to Latin dancing and going to Latin Mass, I went back to the garage sale I went to yesterday. I asked if they minded if I took pictures and they said no.

They did not mind!

So I snapped away. Above is a picture looking south toward Harlem Road.

Here is a cedar chest in which tops were sorted by size.

The artfully arranged dresser.

I just admire a beautifully appointed garage sale. So many you go to are just thrown together with no prices or anything. This garage sale was different! It was to other garage sales as Leonard Pennario's Chopin Preludes are to anyone else's Chopin Preludes. It was impeccable and the prices, as I confided yesterday, were low.

Here is the clothes line looking back toward the house.

A vertical view was necessary to convey the charm of the handbag and hat display.

A panoramic view of the housewares section. The Park School is visible in the background.

In between taking pictures I bought $30 more worth of clothes and candles and whatnot. Mostly clothes. Why should I lie?

I am listening to that first Chopin Prelude in the link I linked to and I ask you, does it not express the beauty of this day? The sun, the blue skies, the wine I drank while sitting on the back deck with my mom. Sheer beauty, that music is.

Perfect for today.

Drop me off on Harlem

Today I hit the most amazing garage sale where I scored the mother lode of clothes. It was just by accident, too. My mother and I had left a sale on Getzville where, incidentally, I bought a beautiful group of colored wineglasses. We were circling around back to Main and I suggested we go up Harlem, in case there was anything there.

There was!

A big Yard Sale sign. Followed by a big Yard Sale!

The people who ran the sale were kind of hippyish and they had what I guess you would call World Music playing in the background. Jamaican wind chimes were chiming. There were lots of hippyish things like incense burners and candles and little doodads that spread the scent of essential oils.

Then there was a clothesline on which were hanging all kinds of wonderful exotic clothes!

All for $1 each!

It was almost as good as finding a collection of rare Leonard Pennario vinyl. It was like going to heaven. At one point I honestly thought I was dreaming. But I was not! I blog, therefore I am. I scored three or four or five formal gowns, including one that is glittery red and black and another that is a classic red and came with its own matching wrap. I bought a pair of pajamas with shimmery pants. What is with me and used pajamas? I cannot help it.

Also a gold, black and white geometric top. And a deep red blouse that is like something out of the 18th century. And a coat that will need new lining but what the heck, I loved it, and it was $1.

For once my mom did not try to stop me. It was hopeless.

There was no stopping me!

I amassed this huge pile of clothes and I wound up paying a grand total of $25. Oh, and this is something else. I had competition at the sale. This other woman was there and she was about my size, which, I hate when that happens because you want the same things. But she brought her husband with her, or her boyfriend, or whatever he was. As the computer would say: Fatal error!

Do not bring a man with you to these sales in any way, shape or form.

"How would this look on me?" she would say, holding something up.

And he was wisecracking: "I got one just like that. I get all kinds of compliments."

"Oh, stop."

While they are having this precious exchange I have scooped up five more items.

End result, as we like to say here in Buffalo:

Competition: One dress, and I had turned it down anyway because it was denim and I am not really a denim person.

Me: WNW.

Whole New Wardrobe!

While walking into work

This morning arriving at the office I walked through the group of protesters at the entrance to The Buffalo News. There were maybe 40 people. I am a bad judge of numbers. And I see now that you certainly can not tell from the picture I took up above! Ahahahaha! Good thing I am not a news photographer.

Anyway, what startled me was the man at the microphone, the man giving this impassioned speech, was my friend Sam from Zumba class!

I stood agog. I met Sam to begin with when I had been taking Zumba maybe a couple of weeks. It was his birthday, and he made this announcement that he was going to celebrate by giving a rose to every lady in the class. Sam always says "lady." As in "You ladies did a great job with that song."

That day all of us ladies walked out of the gym carrying our roses and feeling proud and special. We giggled about it and I joked around about it in the Buzz column. I got to know Sam because of that and often in class we wind up Zumba-ing next to each other.

But today, all I could think was: How is this for an awkward situation?

I sort of tried to catch Sam's eye as he was making his speech. On the other hand I did not try too hard because I did not want to throw him off. All of a sudden he would stop thinking about his grievances against The Buffalo News and start thinking about Charleston step, cumbia step, hips in a circle, shake it.

Maybe he would not even place me out of context. That happens to me so I would totally understand.

This being Buffalo where we talk to strangers I had to talk to someone and I approached a gentleman on the fringe of the group of protesters. "That's my friend," I said, pointing to Sam. "I know him from Zumba class."

If you did this kind of thing in Toronto they would look at you funny and move away but this being Buffalo, the gentleman moved politely and interestedly closer to me. "Oh yeah?" he said.

"Yeah," I said. "I can't believe he is up there giving this speech."

"Where do you do Zumba?" the guy asked me.

Buffalo, gotta love it.

We chatted for a couple more minutes during which time I did not manage to work Leonard Pennario into the conversation but did manage to mention that I had lost five pounds. The protest is because some people object to how The Buffalo News covered our recent downtown shootings, pointing out the victims' criminal backgrounds. While I stick with how the paper covered it, I told this protester that I felt bad that this event had divided our town.

The gentleman smiled at me and he said, "Sometimes good comes out of bad."

What a dump

Above is a truck Howard is thinking of buying. It is a Scout dump truck!

"I can take stuff to the dumps with it," he says. "I can use it as a Dumpster."

I cannot wait until he buys it so I can dump the whole contents of the house into it. OK, I will keep the piano and all my Leonard Pennario stuff. Other than that, though, go at it, Boy-O.

We can hook one of those construction tubes right on up to the front window of the upstairs bedroom. I can start by dumping in all the clothes I do not like. Then I can move on to the furniture.

Imagine how that would feel!

And the space left over in the dump, we can fill up with bishop's weed from the garden.

Then I can buy all new stuff at estate sales and use the Scout dumper to bring it on home.

At last, a viable plan for my life!

Though I really think he should go all the way and buy this.

A candid candidate

Yesterday carrying on about my excitement about the Pope's visit to England, I did not think to mention there is another story I am following and loving.

That is the progress of our New York State gubernatorial candidate Carl Paladino.

Note to out-of-town Leonard Pennario fans: Carl Paladino is going for the Republican nomination which he has to wrestle away from career politician Rick Lazio. And after that he will face off against "Prince Andrew," Andrew Cuomo.

It is a quality soap opera!

Right now Paladino has a guy in a duck suit following Cuomo around because Prince Andrew ducks the issues. He also sent a guy in a chicken suit to stalk Lazio because Lazio is too chicken to debate.

"Paladino Sends Duck To Protest Cuomo." You have to respect that headline no matter what your political views. If you are ever in need of entertainment it is fun to Google "Paladino duck" and "Paladino chicken" and read the stories and the comments.

You can watch Paladino in action here. Do not forget to check in the lower right-hand corner of your screen because you can see Paladino pacing, waiting for you to let him out. Click on it and he walks forward and talks to you.

I had a hand in the Paladino campaign because I wrote in the paper that he should play up his name, which means "knight." I know this because of my friend Steven who on the Internet signs himself "Paladino" because it means a knight who safeguards what is good and true and right. Steven is one of the main masterminds behind the Web site Instant Encore and so he is a paladin, or a paladino, music-wise. Anyway, he has commented on this Web log under that name and at first I thought he was one of the Buffalo Paladinos! Then he explained why he used that name and so I was able to advise Carl Paladino.

You never know when trivia will come in handy! Now when you see Paladino rallies on TV there are always a couple of people waving little flags with the image of a knight. I do not know for sure if that is because of what I wrote, but you never know.

If Paladino winds up in the governor's mansion we will have four years of fun. When he winds up in the governor's mansion. I have to think positive.

He is the third man on this Web log whose name begins with a P and ends in an O. First and foremost there is Leonard Pennario. But once in a while there has been Peter Piccolo. And now there is Carl Paladino!

Who knows where this will end?

Forward into the past

It is really strange these days how things that happened in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance are now affecting us again.

There is the holy war with the Muslims. Things we did not know about before, we now know all about, and talk about on a daily basis! Well, if you do not have your head in the sand, you do. It is part of being informed.

It makes me want to take a second look at the Crusades, you know? I have the usual sketchy schoolroom concept of them and now I want to read up on them again. I want to know who did what, how things began, how they were left. And just the facts. I do not want someone forcing his or her agenda on me.

On a lighter note, there is a story I am loving following and that is the Pope's visit to Great Britain.

The Pope has not been to Britain since Henry VIII could not get his divorce and started the Church of England. That is Henry VIII pictured above. My Latin missal refers to him as "that miserable monarch." He does not look miserable in that portrait, I have to say. He looks powerful and well fed.

This will be the absolute first time since then. He is going to Scotland first, as I understand it, and there will be all kinds of pomp and circumstance all led off by a magnificent Scottish pipe band.

At some point in his visit Benedict XVI is going to be meeting with the Queen!

I wonder if the conversation will get around to Leonard Pennario because you have to assume both of them know who he is.

"Is that a Leonard Pennario record I see over there on the stereo?" That would be the Pope.

You have to imagine the Queen listens to vinyl.

"Oh, yes." (She laughs demurely.) "Sometimes in the evening my corgis and I settle down and we listen to Scriabin's Nocturne for the Left Hand."

"My favorite on that record is the Brahms Rhapsody," His Holiness reflects. "I heard him once playing in Munich..."

Another thing fascinating to think about is that questions have been raised that have not been thought about in centuries. More Anglicans have been "going over to Rome," as they say over there. And there are whispers as to famous cathedrals, like Canterbury Cathedral and Salisbury Cathedral. They were Catholic at first and then taken over by the Anglican Church. Might they ever go back?

Probably not. I am not saying they will. But there are the whispers.

Whispers that have not been heard since the 16th century!

Under the Des Moines sun

Last night I was over at my friend Gary's and it rained and rained and rained. Which was wonderful because we were out in Gary's Florida room and it was fun to sit back and sip Gary's homemade Cabernet and listen to the rain beating on the roof.

We also tasted grappa that Gary brought back from Italy! The priest at my church, Father Secondo, makes grappa. Remember, when I called Cardinal Egan about Leonard Pennario I was supposed to tell His Eminence, that being the Cardinal, that the grappa priest said hello.

Everyone should be lucky enough to deliver such a message! I have a feeling that was when Cardinal Egan knew I was an insider to be taken seriously. I was not just one of the nameless faceless legions calling him to ask him about his friendship with America's greatest pianist.

At Gary's Howard sipped a glass of grappa at Gary's and I just took a little taste. It was dry and spicy and seemed to evaporate in your mouth.

Then I took another taste to reassure myself I was right. Yes, that was how it tasted.

Better make sure. I took one more taste.

I have decided I like grappa.

Howard does, too. "Yeah, I like that grappa. It's unusual." That is what he just said.

It is good to have Gary back from Italy because he was gone for so long. He was there for three weeks. With him back the world is right. Soon it will be time to make our annual trip to the Clinton Bailey Market and buy grape juice for our 2010 vintage.

Here is one thing I have to write, I just have to! Gary went to Cremolina in Tuscany to stay with these old friends of his. They are married and they have lived on this vineyard for 10 years. He told us about this months ago when he was planning this trip. And something in me went sour and I was thinking: Where did I make my wrong turn in life?

Somewhere along the line this friend of Gary's made the right decision and managed to land herself at this picture-perfect vineyard in Tuscany where she lives with her husband and raises their kids. And me, why am I not in Tuscany?

However.

Guess where this Tuscan couple are now?

Des Moines, Iowa!

It ends up they were just renting the vineyard and since Gary left, they have left, too. They were going to go to South Carolina but instead they went to Des Moines where somebody's family is.

Ranging around the Internet, I am thinking Des Moines may not be that bad because this building is supposedly in it.

But still. As Gary's friend Herb said last night: "That's got to be a switch."

Hahahahahaaa!

I hope they brought some grappa with them.