Over the Peace Bridge and Into the Woods

Yesterday, following in the footsteps of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky and Gustav and Alma Mahler, I made my way to Niagara Falls. My mission: to interview Leonard Pennario's decorator, Phil, who is participating in a bridge tournament there.

It was an adventure from the start -- I mean, right from when I crossed over the Peace Bridge after work. I have a little game I play at Customs, I have to confess this. I like to be able to mention Leonard Pennario. It is cheating to volunteer his name outright. The idea is to goad the inspector into asking: "Who are you writing your book about?"

Then I get to say "Leonard Pennario." And I have won! You know that sound you hear when you are walking through the Niagara Casino and hear quarters pouring in a torrent into someone's cup? That is how I feel when an inspector at customs asks me who I am writing my book about.

So. There I am, 4:30 p.m., at the Peace Bridge's spanking new toll plaza which, by the way, I have never seen before. I pull up to the booth and there's a woman in it. Good! Women are more fussy and they quiz you to death which means there is a greater chance I will get to mention Pennario.

And this woman did quiz me to death. She looked at my driver's license. Then back to me. At my license. At me. She asked what I was doing in Canada. I said I was working on a book and had to interview someone who was visiting the Falls for a bridge tournament.

I could have just said I was visiting a friend. But I was afraid if I did that she would just wave me on through and my chances of mentioning Pennario would be nil.

As it was, I chose wisely, because we ended up in this convoluted conversation with her asking me if I was paying Phil for the interview, or if he was paying me, and me saying no one was paying anyone, and she asked where I work, and I told her. She frowned. Things were looking good! And then she asked: "What is your book about?"

I could have said Pennario's name then. But I wanted to up the bar, make things more challenging for myself. "A great concert pianist," I said.

She did not ask who it was. No one ever does. But she kept on quizzing me, about whether I knew anyone in Canada, who this guy was I was meeting, why he was here, etc. Until finally I said: "The pianist I am writing about is Leonard Pennario. He died, this is one of his friends, and I am talking to him about Leonard Pennario."

I said it twice!! I wanted to reward myself after all my fine strategizing.

I smiled about that all the way down the QEW.

Meeting Phil was fun although our conversation turned out to be not in the august surroundings I pictured yesterday. We just talked in Phil's room. He had everything ready -- all his notes and, to my delight, cute 8-oz ice-cold bottles of Coke. God, I love real Coke. Actual Coke, with sugar. I don't know when the last time was I had one. It was more fun than drinking wine and coming from me that is saying quite a bit.

Phil's room was not only not Marilyn Monroe's room, it was not even at the Brock. The bridge tournament was at the Brock. He was staying at the Skyline Inn. Which was really weird! It took me a million years to find his room. There are these indoor courtyards you have to walk through and this opaque number system. I was not the only one lost. There was this guy who was lost too. Here is a picture I took while I was lost.



And here is a picture of Phil. He was terrific and very erudite and we did a lot of talking about Pennario's life and career. Also the lives and careers of a few other pianists. Phil was also a good friend of Liberace's. Leonard did not like Liberace. That is my coat and hat on the bed. Observe the two bottles of Coke visible to the right.



I looked forward to my customs adventure on the way home. And I was not disappointed.

Actually I was pretty lucky, I see that now. Howard tells me you need this new document to cross the Peace Bridge. I did not have that. Also, my passport had just expired. All I had was my driver's license. I do have a passport that has not expired, but it was Pennario's. I should have handed them that! That would have gotten the conversation around to Pennario pretty quickly.

The guy at the Peace Bridge on the way home did what the previous inspector had done. He looked at my license. Looked at me.

Then he asked for another photo ID. I gave him my work I.D.

He stared some more. Asked some questions. Finally he said, "The reason I'm asking is, you have braces. And the person in this picture" -- he showed the license -- "has perfect, straight teeth."

"You're kidding," I said. I didn't know what to say. The thing is, that picture was taken by Jocko's friend Electra, who used to take the pictures at the Northtown Auto Bureau. Electra is like the Annie Leibowitz of driver's license picture takers. She makes you look great. This is the best picture I have ever had taken of myself and it is on my driver's license. Unfortunately Electra retired. When I get my picture taken next year it will be back to the real world.

The customs inspector went back and forth about my teeth and my braces. I told him I got the braces in March, etc. I said people used to mock out my teeth when they wanted to be mean to me. I can't believe I told him that but I wanted to tell the truth.

He said he was going to have to pull me over.

"That's fine," I said brightly. Being pulled over meant that surely I would be able to mention Leonard Pennario. Perhaps if they detained me a while I could discuss him in depth! "I like the increased security," I said.

Which was a tactical error. Because I wound up not being pulled over after all. The inspector said he was just gauging my reaction. By the time I left that booth we were joking together about how Barack Obama is going to raise our taxes. And there had been no opportunity for me to mention Leonard Pennario. I lost that round.

You win some, you lose some.

Next time I will know better. When they say they are pulling me over, I will gripe!

Niagara

It was good to hear from Mike in San Diego on yesterday's blog. Mike, please do not be offended by my comments on Unitarians! I kid around a lot. The Steinway family, who made the pianos, they were Unitarian. I love my Steinway! It is just that I did have that friend who became a U.U. minister and he did tell me that, about Jesus Christ and the podium. I had to write that. I just had to.

Today is an exciting day. Today is the day I journey to Niagara Falls, Ont., to meet Leonard Pennario's friend Phil who is participating in a bridge tournament and has agreed to meet me before his 7 p.m. round. How I am going to do this in addition to working and getting only three hours' sleep I am not exactly sure. But it will work out. Everything about my book on Pennario works out. This book is meant to be so everything had just better get out of the way.

When Phil called me lastnight he left a message and he said: "Is this the nut in the bathrobe?" I like that about him. I also like that he has agreed that when we meet I can get someone to take our picture for the blog. Thank you, Phil!

This will be a rare opportunity for me to check out Niagara Falls, Ont.

I do not know the last time I have been there! I hear they have a building now that dwarfs our HSBC Center. Either that or it is in the planning stages. I wonder how many hotels and casinos they have now. Then there will be tacky old Clifton Hill with its funhouses and video arcades.

Thanks a lot, Canadians, for messing up our view! Whenever I look at Niagara Falls, Ont., that is what I always think.

I think we should louse up their view, too. We have been too nice to them with our parks and green space. It is good that with our casino with its big light-up feather, we are catching up. Wow, I hate to imagine someone unfamiliar with both Niagara Fallses stumbling on this. Funhouses?? they must be thinking. Light-up feather? How do these things serve to spotlight one of the Wonders of the World?

Maybe we could put up big Golden Arches over the falls. Or get back "Green Lightning." Remember "Green Lightning," that "sculpture" that Mayor Jimmy Griffin had taken down a long time ago? Finally, the perfect place for it!

OK, I am being mean. If I were a Unitarian I would not be talking like this.

One thing nice about Niagara Falls, though, is something my brother George told me: that many of the things you see in the movie "Niagara," with Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotten, are still there. Pennario was good friends with Joseph Cotten and even better friends with Cotten's wife, Lenore. I think George said the tourist cabins you see in "Niagara," where Joseph and Marilyn stay, are still around. And of course the Cave of the Winds is not that much different from the way it was over 100 years ago when Tchaikovsky visited. Tchaikovsky did the Cave of the Winds. Think of that this year when you watch "Nutcracker."

I am meeting Phil at the august Brock Plaza Hotel, one of the few vestiges of the old Niagara Falls, Ont. That is the hotel pictured above. I imagine us discussing Leonard Pennario in those chairs visible at the lower right.

An almost-as-exciting thought: Somewhere on the Internet I read that Marilyn Monroe stayed in room 801. I wonder if Phil will get that room!

He might, if he drops Pennario's name.

Must have

Lastnight I went to Viva Vivaldi and afterwards three of us made a beeline across the street to Cecilia's for a glass of that dandy Montepulciano. St. Cecilia being the patron saint of music, that is the least we can do. The Viva Vivaldi concert was at the Unitarian Universalist Church at Elmwood and Ferry, pictured above.

My sin for today is envy. I envy the Unitarians this church. All through the Geminiani concerto that began the concert I was looking up at the rafters, the way I always do when I go to concerts here. Well, I went to one wedding in this church too. And a few years ago I went to a Sunday service, to catch the visiting minister's act. I knew this guy from when we were in our 20s and used to get together to drink copious amounts. Once this guy fell asleep in a fire pit. I am not kidding. There were hot coals in there at the time, too. Now here he was a U.U. minister. So we went to hear him preach and then went out to eat.

Back to this church and my sin of envy. Yesterday my sin was sloth. I guess you could call it that. Tomorrow's might be gluttony. No shortage of sins here!

I covet the Unitarian Universalist Church on Elmwood. I do. I covet its stone walls and its high arched wooden beams and in the summer when I come here for Chamber Music on Elmwood concerts, I covet its gardens. The U.U. was designed by Edward Austen Kent, who went down on the Titanic in 1912. They have a plaque to him in the church. It is made out of Indiana limestone, like St. Gerard's. It has these exquisite teardrop-shaped chandeliers.

I know this church was built to be a U.U. church but they do not actually believe in anything so I believe it is wasted on them. My U.U. minister friend told me that the only time a Unitarian minister says "Jesus Christ" is when he trips on his way up to the podium. I am serious. That is what he told me. Which is one reason I was sitting there lastnight in my padded pew thinking: This should be a Catholic church!

We should buy it, I thought. We could make the U.U.'s an offer they couldn't refuse. Maybe we could give them St. Gregory the Huge in exchange. I didn't really make that up, by the way, "St. Gregory the Huge." I got that from this priest I met once. These priests you meet, they are the funniest people in the world.

The windows don't depict saints, but we could make up for that by filling the inside of the church with statues of saints, and then you've got the Infant of Prague, the Black Madonna, all kinds of other things that could be added. And should. This church looks kind of barren. That is my only criticism.

Then I thought: The Catholic Church doesn't have a presence in the Elmwood Village. Acquiring the U.U. Church would fix that.

Now we were well on our way to another sin, Pride. I am unstoppable these days!

But here is what is amazing: At intermission I ran into Bill, a friend of mine from the Latin Mass. I do not think it is the same Bill who wrote that Obama has Leonard Pennario on his iPod. But you never know! I should have asked.

Bill said: "Look at the front of this church. It would be just perfect for what we do at St. Anthony's."

I said: "You too????"

So the question now is: When we acquire the U.U. Church, what do we name it? I would think St. Joseph, the patron saint of carpentry, buying and selling houses, and real estate. But we already have so many St. Josephs.

How about St. Barbara, the patron saint of architects and stonemasons?

See, now we're all set.

Slip-sliding

Here is the load of vegetables I picked up yesterday on Woodbridge Avenue. As you can see the situation is hopeless.

Do not fail to notice the Leonard Pennario album in the background! I laughed out loud when I saw it there.

This morning with all this on my mind I was a total minus at Mass. First I got there late because I couldn't find my keys. I got there at the Introit. That never happens, that I am late! I was so mad.

Then I could not focus. Just could not. I had made the mistake when I got up of working on my Pennario sales pitch package for a couple of hours. I am getting a kick out of this pitch, which I am going to use to get myself a six figure advance. I like working on it. So when the alarm went off I jumped out of bed feeling as if it were Christmas, because I had two hours to work on it before going to church.

Hereafter I will have this rule that I cannot work on the book before Mass on Sunday. It turns me into a vegetable. Did I hear the word vegetable? I should not even be uttering that word.

The Mass goes really fast so you have to be on the ball and I was not. The Pater Noster passed without my realizing it. A few weeks ago I lost my place in the Liturgical Year and I do not think I will be able to find it again until Advent starts, whenever that is. So I did not know where we were in the missal. I think I had one coherent thought during the whole Mass and that was when I looked up and admired this one woman's outfit. Duh. La la la la la.

There is one line made for me. It is: "Domine, non sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum, sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea."

You don't have to wade through the whole thing. All that matters is it starts: "Lord, I am not worthy, that you should come under my roof --"

That is for sure!

No wonder I know that line by heart. I did not even have to copy it from my missal.

Speaking of things under the roof, Howard has a new humidor. It is a Jewett humidor. Howard is in love with all things Jewett. At Big Blue we have a Jewett ice box.

The miracle is not that he found this Jewett humidor but that he was able to clear a space in our office to put it. In the process he found a wedding present we had forgotten to open, also an unopened card. This is the land of the lost. Now the humidor sits on a dresser, between last year's phone book and a 1970s pole lamp. Perhaps I will post a picture tomorrow.

That on top of today's picture would be just too frightening.

American idol

We interrupt this blog because I have finally gotten my copy of Gramophone Magazine. This is the issue wherein the editors graciously print my letter about Leonard Pennario. It is the Special Anniversary Issue, too. Nothing but the best for me!

I am very proud to have been permitted to defend the old man's honor. Click on the page and you will be able to read what I wrote. Please take the time to admire my first sentence! It is very graceful if I may say so myself, which I may because no one is going to stop me this being my blog.

I still think they should have run Pennario's picture big and that Russian guy's picture small. They would sell more magazines that way! But I think I will quit while I am ahead and not bicker with these people any more than I already have.

OK, enough crowing. Back to work!

The Attack of the Voluminous Vegetables

BAD girl! NO Clinton-Bailey Market!

I am posting the unflattering picture above so I will stay away. I do not know what that business means about a half mile from home, by the way. The Clinton-Bailey Market is more than a half mile from my home THANK GOD.

My kitchen is starting to look like Wegmans! Lastnight I managed to make it through a big bunch of broccoli, with salmon which I am more master of than I am of steak, I will say that after yesterday's experience. Anyway this is what I still have left: six green peppers, two red peppers, seven leeks, two rutabagas, eight beets, six turnips, one Savoy cabbage and three red cabbages. Today I resolve to keep a distance of at least a mile between me and any farmers' market. I am running up the red flag.

Luckily my appetite is up again. It has survived the elections. Of course it is one of the wonders of the world, my ability to eat.

My mother made me feel better. She had voted for McCain but when we had our steak dinner the other night she was all bouncy and chipper. She had stayed up to watch the election results and had been impressed by the grace of both McCain's and Obama's speeches and had decided they were both fine gentlemen. Plus she approved of how Obama had been married only once, whereas McCain was on his second wife. That is the way my German Catholic mother looks at life and it can be comforting.

Another thing that makes me feel better is Howard says that Rush Limbaugh has been replaying Rev. Jeremiah Wright saying: "God D-- America!" I do not use bad words in my blog. Rush said: "Come on, just because the elections are over doesn't mean we have to stop playing that!" That got me laughing.

What else got me laughing? This video from the Onion that my friend Steve Sherman sent me. As Howard said, the Onion has sure gotten slick.

And Bill's comment about Obama having Leonard Pennario on his iPod. Well, I think I already wrote that.

Anyway, my stomach has regained its equilibrium, which is certainly good news for farmers' markets throughout Western New York. Now we can return to other important matters. Like Leonard Pennario.

And the weather! How about this weather? I wore sandals and summer clothes to work yesterday. And I still was too warm walking back from Pilates class!

Here is what I think is funny. You get a sunny summery day like yesterday. What was it, 80 degrees? And you still see all kinds of people in down jackets and black tights and long wool coats. Honest, I kept passing people on the sidewalk wearing this stuff. Are these people awake? Do they notice what kind of day it is out? Perhaps they awaken with their brain computing, robot-like: "It is November. I live in Buffalo. Hence I will wear a down jacket."

Maybe they are not real people. Maybe they are those people Mason Winfield told me about that if you watch them long enough you will see them disappear.

Or maybe they are the people who voted for Obama. OK, I will stop now. No more election coverage on this site. I do not want to put myself off my feed again.

I can't afford to. Not with all the stuff in my kitchen.

Stand facing the stove

We have not talked for a while about Howard and steak. It is time to revisit this subplot in my life.

Lastnight I was cooking dinner for my mom so I ran to Budwey's first and I got sirloin steak. My mom loves beef. I did up the beef according to a recipe in Martha Stewart Everyday Food, with red wine sauce.

The recipe was actually for something called Flat Iron Steak but that is one of those mythical cuts magazines refer to that you cannot actually find anywhere. Like skirt steak and flank steak. Has anyone out there ever seen those in your life? Well, steaks are pretty much steaks and I was careful with this sirloin. And it turned out beautifully. And there was much rejoicing.

Then I got home and I had saved a third of the steak for Howard so I cooked it up for him. Rare, the way he likes it.

But I forgot, I cannot cook steaks for Howard! First he asked me where I got it. "Budwey's," I said.

Then he tried to be nice about it. "I can see that preparation went into this," he said. "I can't imagine anyone else putting this kind of preparation into a supermarket steak."

Then I hear it all over again about it is not like E.B. Green's and I have to find out where E.B. Green's and the Chophouse get their steaks. Go back to start! I mean, Howard liked it. He ate it. He was not unkind. But ... but ...

I cooked dinner for Leonard Pennario once in California. I made him pot roast. Pennario praised me half to death. You should have seen the look on his face. Totally like Clint Eastwood in "The Bridges of Madison County," when Meryl Streep makes him that home-cooked meal. I loved that look.

That is the kind of look I want from Howard!

I guess I will have to go find where the Chophouse gets its steaks.

A man or a mouse

This is terrible but on the morning of Election Day I saw a mouse in my kitchen. It came out of a closed drawer near the floor and then it crawled back up from whence it came and vanished.

Eeek! Double eeeek! It is like the time I found the worm on my carpet in San Diego. Well, not quite as bad as that. Leonard Pennario agreed with me that the worm story was the most gross thing in the world. There was nothing like that.

But, this mouse. The weird thing about it is that just a moment earlier, I had been thinking about Robert Burns' poem "To a Mouse." Honest. I was by the shelf where I keep my spices and I was looking for paprika and for some reason that came into my head. "Wee, timorous beastie..." I was even thinking of that word "timorous." Was Burns being funny, I wondered, applying that stentorian Latin-root word to a mouse?

Then I turned and I saw that mouse!

Isn't that weird? Well, I am getting used to this kind of thing happening to me.

Wow, check out the link above to "To a Mouse." You would think that on a Web site devoted to Robert Burns they would at least capitalize his name right and also not write "Burn's." Oh, well. That is a wee, tim'rous Web site, say I.

On the bright side, one thing yesterday cracked me up. That was Bill, yesterday's commenter, telling me that Barack Obama had Leonard Pennario on his iPod. Bill, I was laughing all day about that! Plus, I enjoyed the dialogue that resulted. That is a progressive word, dialogue. I am going to use it every chance I get.

Then this morning I saw the Wall Street Journal and it reminded me I am not alone. This woman who wrote the book "Prozac Nation" wrote about Obama's election and her essay began: "I cried, I admit it."

Honey, you and me both! (As bartenders in Buffalo like to say.)

I will recount my experiences in my book "Ambien Nation."

What a pill

Wow, what a night. They call it a historic election and they are right. Here is why: I wound up having to take an Ambien.

I have not taken an Ambien in I do not know how long!

I think it has been two years. That was when I had sleep problems and had to go to the sleep doctor because things got to the point where it was as if I flew to Europe three times a week. Heavens, that sentence! Perhaps the Ambien has still not worn off.

The sleep doctor did not give me the Ambien. The sleep doc works without drugs. But the doctor before him did. And I still have a few left kicking around. I had not thought of them in forever. But lastnight, I did.

A place for everything and everything in its place, is my motto, so I was easily able to find the Ambien on the lazy Susan in the kitchen, stashed among the baking powder, baking soda, allspice and vanilla extract. I made my own vanilla extract, with vodka and a vanilla bean from the Broadway Market. I am proud of myself.

Half an Ambien, and boom. As soon as you swallow the thing you can feel something is off in your head. I mean, you feel that within two seconds. I walked up the stairs going "La, la, la, la, la..."

I have not even told Howard this, but I was dreaming about Barack Obama and in my dreams he was the greatest guy. We were out partying somewhere and the only trouble was that he left his gloves in the trunk of my car and I was not sure how I was going to get them to him.

That is my way of wishing Obama the best and I wholeheartedly hope he succeeds as president, because what is good for his presidency is good for the country. That attitude is more than I saw from any liberals when Bush was elected four years ago, by the way. No liberals wished him the best. They just began immediately to hate him and rip him apart. But me, I am taking the high road!

Having slept I can see the bright side of things:

No. 1, I was not in love with John McCain anyway. If I had really loved the Republican candidate that would have been one thing. But this is another.

No. 2, with the election over and the die cast, I can now not feel guilty for thinking about Leonard Pennario round the clock.

We've listened to it a million times, but how 'bout Pennario, in that Ravel Toccata?

I think I will take a few minutes and just sit and listen.

Click!

This is yet another demonstration of my newfound photography skills. Here you see the view from my office window of the sun setting over the beautiful Skyway, Buffalo's signature bridge.

Scoot over, Ansel Adams!

Did anyone else catch Tom Bauerle's ghost show on Hallowe'en? He was playing those tapes this woman had made in a cemetery, tapes that had these disembodied voices. The woman, this ghost-hunter, took out her camera and took a picture and you heard this spooky voice saying, "Click."

I know it was probably a fake. But let me tell you, I was spooked! I heard that "Click," and I had heard enough. I went running around the house turning off radios. All these weeks looking forward to that show, and I lasted five minutes. It sounded demonic to me. I wanted ghost stories. I didn't want this demonic stuff.

Speaking of things demonic, I am trying to begin this Election Day in good spirits. The country will survive. Sanity will prevail, if not in the short run, then in the long run. As Jocko says: "Whatever happens, we'll be fine." He kept saying that over and over the last time we heard him play at the Hyatt, a few days ago, which makes me think he is very worried. Well, we will stay calm. We will get through this.

Still, it is tough! Yesterday I was at the Buffalo Athletic Club and they make you get onto a really tiny elevator to go in and out of the place. And on my way out I was stuck in this elevator with five Obama supporters. They were all guys and they were all bellowing and here I am, squashed in the back of the elevator, feeling as if I am going to pass out.

"Didn't you open your mouth?" Howard asked.

But I couldn't! I am too used to not opening my mouth and am too stressed out at the moment to learn to do differently. Also I was coming from my Monday Pilates class which is like this death march. It is designed to make you repent everything you ate over the weekend and every bit of wine you drank. At the end of the class we were all lying on our mats like dead people. I could not go from that to arguing politics in an elevator.

Again, weakling behavior, and Howard mocked me out for it. But I am not the only one in a tough spot these days. On Sunday I got a desperate cell phone call from my friend Michelle. She was at a party marooned among Obama supporters. She was hoping I could get her out of there. Unfortunately I was on the phone with Leonard Pennario's bridge buddy Phil and so missed her SOS. Still I am telling you, these situations are out there.

Wow, what a morning I am having! I am jittery!

I will focus again on my inspirational photo of the sun setting over the Skyway. It is so beautiful.

Thank God for great art.

The Feast of All Souls

This is the first picture I have taken and managed to get out of my camera and onto my blog, all by myself. It is what I saw today when I walked into St. Anthony's Church for the first All Souls Day Mass I have ever been to in my life.

What a sight! Right away you can tell that whatever is going to happen, it is going to be no joke. In the background you can see the six candles I wrote about back in the supernatural month of October, the six candles they burn at every High Mass.

I wish I could have taken pictures of the actual ceremony but I would have felt weird taking out my camera. But it was something. The priest wore black vestments and there were powerful and beautiful chants going back to the third century, and clouds of incense. The idea is that you pray for all the souls who have gone before you. The Mass lastnight focused specifically on all the dead associated with St. Anthony's Church, which includes Leonard Pennario because his parents were married there. Anyway it is a very emotional thing.

Pennario loved the Latin Mass and Gregorian chant. We had that in common.

Back to my All Souls experience. Here is what I could not get over: When the Mass was over, the priest walks out and everyone leaves and what you see in the picture, it just stays there. The candles are still burning, there in the empty church. When I got in my car and I was back in the world again, the busy city with traffic and bars and lights on all over downtown, I looked back at the church, and I thought of what was in there. Talk about a funny feeling!

I think this is a fine note on which to put to bed our supernatural month of October. We went a little bit over because it is now November 3 but what can I say, my life being the way it is, there were a lot of things to cover. There are many things I did not even get to.

We will have to do this again next year!

The nut in the bathrobe

That post that Howard wrote yesterday had me laughing so hard I could not write or think for two days. Oh, wait, I can never write or think anyway. Well, at least yesterday I had an excuse.

Because I couldn't write or think, what I did was call this guy Phil, who was a big bridge buddy of Leonard Pennario and also his decorator and knew him well for almost 40 years. That is what you do when you can't think. You interview people. Then they do the talking and you just sit there and egg them on.

Where does that phrase come from, to egg someone on? Anybody know? It probably goes back to the 12th century, to something that makes no sense to us now.

Back to Phil. He is 81 and lives in Michigan and I loved him from the first sentence he said to me, which was, "Oh, please, you don't have to explain who you are."

He is valuable to me partly because he knows a lot about music. That is not true of all Pennario's friends. If I were writing about some not-hot pianist like Abram Chasins it would be true but in Pennario's case it is not.

Phil had a friend visiting him yesterday and they had just gone through this Mozart concerto marathon. They had watched a video of Mitsuko Uchida playing No. 9, followed by No. 12, so Phil could show his friend what a great concerto No. 9 was and how superior it was to No. 12, two opinions I totally agree with, and that Phil and I hashed over at length. Then they heard No. 20, the tremendous D Minor Concerto. I love the idea of listening to three Mozart concertos end to end. Phil and I will get along fine.

It turns out Phil has been reading my blog. He said that because of it, he knows I can do this book and that it will be a success. "At first I wondered about it," he said. "But then I started reading what you wrote. And I told this friend of mine, 'She's this nut! She's going to do a great job!'"

Then he said: "I love how you wear his bathrobe."

These are valuable endorsements I am gathering for the back cover of my book that will help me nail a good publisher.

"She's this nut. ... I love how she wears his bathrobe."

Hey, you won't be laughing when this thing sells a million copies.

We shall open the sealed door.

Happy Hallowe'en and welcome to Big Blue.

Please follow us - if you dare - down to the deepest bowels of Big Blue as we breach the long sealed entrance way to what surely promises to be Hell itself.




Please grab a courtesy Stingray bicycle and follow us now.

This passage way was sealed early in Buffalo's history. The dozens of rusty bent nails have served as a stern warning over all of these years.

No man nor woman has been equipped by God to survive the horror that must undoubtedly exist beyond this sealed door.

This is much worse than imagined! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGUUUUUHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!