Viva Sant' Antonio!

You know me, party like it's 1399! Sunday at noon, ignoring the Allentown Art Festival, I went to my church's St. Anthony Procession. I have mentioned my church before. It is St. Anthony of Padua!

This was my chance to thank St. Anthony for all the lost objects he had found for me in the last year which have been very many. Also it was my opportunity to butter him up for future occasions. My life's a beach, I will tell you that. The tides wash in, the tides wash out, and important things are constantly disappearing. St. Anthony may as well change his mailing address to my house because he is always here.

I had not realized St. Anthony was such a young man. Wikipedia says he lived from 1195 until 1231. That made him what, 36, when he died?

Also, you would never guess where St. Anthony was born. He was born in Lisbon! St. Anthony, Portuguese. Who ever would have guessed?

I used to live on Lisbon Avenue. And Leonard Pennario was baptized at St. Anthony's Church. Where is this all heading? Talk about a life of coincidences.

But anyway. Back to yesterday and our march downtown. Traffic and buses came to a halt for us as we asserted our supremacy over Niagara Square.


We circled the square, led by Padre Secondo shouting mysteries of the Rosary through a bullhorn in Latin and Italian, with just enough English thrown in to balance things out. That is Padre Secondo with the microphone and an assistant holding his robe. See, everyone else's life is boring next to mine. You do not have to tell me!



Here we are aggressively marching on City Hall. In this picture you can see Padre Secondo's gold vestments.


We were a colorful crowd.


I asked this kid if I could take his picture and he said yes.


What with all the government buildings around, the good padre prayed loudly and freely for our government officials, Homeland Security, the police and the FBI. He also prayed for the courthouse going up but prayed that it would not see much business.

If we had just gone down Delaware Avenue a little ways we could have prayed for Big Blue where Howard was relaxing like Gomez Addams.


But alas, we did not.


After teaching the neighborhood a lesson we rallied back home at St. Anthony's Church.


Father Secondo led us in a litany of prayers to St. Anthony. St. Anthony being the patron saint of lost objects, the prayers included petitions for those who had lost their innocence, those who had lost their sobriety, those who had lost their moral compass, and those who had lost their car keys, of whom I am frequently one.


At the end of the ceremony Father Secondo blessed us. And then he shouted: "Viva Sant' Antonio!" Which we all echoed!

Ay me! Am I in Buffalo, or in Tuscany?

Am I in 2009, or 1300?

And where are my car keys, anyhow?