Tonight we went to hear the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra playing in the city, on Bidwell Parkway.
A picture of my niece Barbara.
And my nephew Georgie, trying to learn to tie his shoes.
Ha, ha! He was puffing his cheeks out, he was concentrating so hard.
Both kids were good about listening to the BPO. They have inherited their aunt's abilities to remain motionless through long pieces of classical music! Georgie liked Aaron Copland's "Simple Gifts." He knew it from Mass as "Lord of the Dance." He was singing along! I heard him go, "Dance, then, wherever you may be." And he said to me, "I know this song!" So cute.
We brought this really cool picnic basket that is visible to the right of Barbara's face up above.
This basket, it was funny, before we went to the concert, Barbara asked, "Do we have a picnic basket to take?"
And I saw this basket in the dining room, next to a box of Leonard Pennario records. I said, "Yes, Bar, we do!"
And this basket, it killed me. I remembered buying it at a garage sale with my mom. My mom said, and she was right, that it would be a great present for someone. That was what I intended, to give it as a present to someone. But I never did. Most of my girlfriends have fall or winter birthdays. It just works out that way. Other than that, I just forgot.
Now here was this basket. We opened it up. Barbara said, in delight, "Oh!"
And I said: "Oh!"
It was beautifully fitted out with four red cups and four red plates and red silverware. Everything was just so perfect. Both of us were gaga, looking at it. You can see one of the red cups in the picture up above of Georgie tying his shoes.
My mom was right. It was a present. For me!
We packed up homemade bread and cheese from Albrecht Discount and the strawberry jam I made from strawberries from the Clinton-Bailey Market. And a bag of radishes. "Oh! Radishes!" said Barbara.
She is in that magical phase when everything is wonderful.
My brother George said that a mulberry tree sprang up overnight at my mom's house.
Nobody saw it coming! It is most mysterious. One day there was nothing and the next day there was this mulberry tree as high as the house. And it is full of mulberries. George and the kids have been shaking them down.
We believe it is supernatural.
So is sure to be the jam I will make from the mulberries. I have never made mulberry jam before. I have never even tasted a mulberry! But someone has to be the first to eat an oyster. Or, in this case, a mulberry.
Above is a painting of the mulberry tree at my mother's house. It was painted by a friend of the family, Vincent Van Gogh.
There is mulberry wine to be made. You can also make mulberry ice cream. Perhaps I will try that. I was thinking back on the ice cream I used to eat with Leonard at Coldstone Creamery.
Don't you hate when it is just you at table, when you are cooking dinner just for yourself, and it comes out looking so damned good that you regret that no one else is there to see it?
I am always trying to show off when I cook dinner for Howard. Then when he is not home I like to branch out and cook something a little off the wall, something I think I would like but I am not sure about him. Often it is something vegetarian. Women do that a lot. If there is no guy around we just make veggie pasta or roast half a squash or something.
The other night when Howard had Lounge Academy I tossed together greens with red peppers and polenta. It is out of a Cooking Light magazine from a million years ago, back when Cooking Light was a decent magazine and gave you a hundred recipes an issue and all of them sounded good.
I piled it all into this Dollar Tree bowl and shook on some Parmesan and son of a sea cook!
It looked good!
It would never have looked this good if there were someone else here.
I remember when I made beef stew for Leonard Pennario, thinking, if Leonard were not here it would look better. Things always look better when it is just you! Because that is when it does not have to look good.
Things always turn out well when you are not trying!
Just because my mother is gone does not mean that I have stopped garage sale-ing. Au contraire! I went garage sale-ing Saturday and I know she was with me in spirit. Well, on second thought I am not sure she was, because she probably would have frowned on half the things I bought.
I scored a copy of Mark Bittman's "How To Cook Everything," pictured above, duh. For $1. I could not believe my luck. I just about fell over two boxes of stuff when I saw it in my haste to get to it.
I could just hear my mom: "You have enough cookbooks." But I have wanted this book forever!
Plus I got a statue of the Infant of Prague. It looks kind of like this only cooler and more sophisticated.
Remember, it was like the situation with St. Joseph, you worry about these statues not going to the right people. The only trouble is, there was also an Infant of Prague statue with the cloth skirt ...
.
.. but I did not buy it. I have to draw the line somewhere and the cloth skirt would get dusty. Also it just is not me. It is fussy. But darn, as I was leaving the sale, the Infant of Prague with the cloth was just kind of lying there abjectly in a box full of junk. I felt so bad!
It is just wrong that these items of faith are just left there begging. But, I mean, I only have this one radiator where I have set up a kind of altar for these items. Also you pay for them too, you know? It is unfortunate that they charge for them but they do.
Anyway.
No Leonard Pennario records or memorabilia, but I did score some gym clothes and a dress that I have already worn.
Today was the greatest day to go to Fantasy Island because at first it rained. Then the sun came out.
But by the time the sun came out most people had chickened out of going to the park. They thought it would rain all day! As I almost did when I was driving there. It was pouring while I was on the road, and I despaired. But as soon as I got there the sun came out. That is the effect I have on people and places! And so there were no lines for anything.
If you went to Fantasy Island today you were a winner!
Leonard Pennario liked riding rides and so do I. I rode the Silver Comet something like eight times with my little nephew George Henry. Once we scored the front car and we were the only two people on the train.
George Henry, as we were rising toward the sky, was trying to tell me how the ride was magnetized and how the train stayed on the tracks.
I said: "George Henry, I hope it works OK because we are the only people weighing this train down."
The only time the kids grew desultory was on the train ride which, admittedly, it was slow going. That is our George Henry in the center. George Andrew is at right. At the controls of the train is Melvin. He is the engineer.
Once we saw a Model T offroading! It was supposed to be on the Classic Car Track but instead it was out ranging around.
Another sight not seen every day: a shoe slide.
Love the classic 1930s Blue Goose!
An eventful day and as I drop off to sleep tonight, I will be hearing the clickety-clack of the wooden roller coaster ...
... climbing uphill.
Wooden coasters and blue geese will be in my dreams!
The best thing was, the bread machine did not cost a lot of bread!
The Welbilt was missing its price tag but Howard truthfully told the clerk that The Wife had been by and told him that it was $5. And they sold it to him for that. Yay, Goodwill! They did not let it turn into a bureaucratic nightmare, that the Welbilt was missing its price tag. They accepted Howard's offer.
Which is funny because, thinking about it, I am foggy about that price business. I think I have been dealing not too badly with recent events but I have been in kind of a daze. A few days ago I was at the Goodwill with my sister, and of course I remember seeing the machine, but I am not sure how I knew it was $5 or why I did not buy it. I think I got distracted and walked away.
Imagine, walking away from this Welbilt!
That will not happen again!
Anyway, we have this Welbilt, and it is, well, well built. We were up until 2 a.m., lifting the lid and watching it tossing around this ball of dough. Eventually it presented us with this hilarious looking loaf, shaped like a big fat bullet. I will have to post a picture. We tried it and it was perfect, a rich brown with a most excellent texture.
You know what they say, a jug of wine, a loaf of bread ...
Yikes, look at the date! I have been away from Blog-O-Land for a while. What happened was, my mother passed away. It was a brief illness but a lot of ups and downs and it took me a while to be able to focus.
I wanted to write about it on the Web log because my mom was a major character on it even if she did not exactly know it. And I thought I should explain. But every time I sat down to do it I just kind of blanked.
However.
Now I am finding my equilibrium.
It is on the feast of St. Anthony when you find things! That is St. Anthony pictured above. Isn't that a beautiful picture? It is by one of the saint's namesakes, Antonio de Pereda.
As I regain my equilibrium I am powering ahead with the Leonard Pennario project. It kind of slowed in the last few months because of concerns over my mom but this is good news, even in the midst of my troubles, I got in a few minutes here and there, and things turned up. One of them was a great photo of Pennario with the great soprano Lotte Lehmann. My book is going to be full of pictures and this one is a real rarity.
Now with the incessant rain I should be able to get more done. We do not mind rainy days here at the Leonard Pennario desk. We pop open a can of Shur-Fine Diet White Birch Beer and we get to work.
Plus there comes a point when, whatever has happened to you, something comes along that jolts you out of it. For me it happened today because I realized, to my horror, that my car registration was due.
I mean it expired today!
What to do? What to do? Ah, I could pay online, right? I went out and wrote down my license plate number. I found my way to the site. I punched in information and credit card numbers.
Then I hit "submit." An appropriate word. You submit to the government.
I wait for my confirmation. But then ... but then ... the stupid thing buzzes me back saying something like: "The program needed to process your payment is not working. Please try back in at least half an hour."
I tried again. It happened again. I hung my head. Clearly this was hopeless. And here it was the last day. I had thought the thing expired on June 15 but it was June 13, zut alors.
I scoured the house for my car registration paperwork. If I could find the form they sent me, maybe I could just mail it, and not drive before the new registration arrived. I could take it to the post office tonight. I could say I had tried online and it had not worked. I could --
I could not find the paperwork.
Finally I decided to try online one more time. It was the Feast of St. Anthony. St. Anthony has to do with finding things, not making computer programs work, but he had helped me out so many times I thought maybe he might do it again.
I typed everything in again. I hit "submit." I screwed my eyes shut. "Please, St. Anthony," I said. "Make it go through. Please."
And it did!!
I opened my eyes and there was my confirmation and Temporary Registration, ready to be printed out.
How bad can life be when a man born in the 12th century, a Doctor of the Church, a disciple of St. Francis of Assisi, lets you know that you have his ear? I ask you.
Bishop Grosz said our Mass yesterday at St. Anthony's! Above is a picture I took from my usual bird's-eye view from the choir loft.
It was Pentecost Sunday and so he wore red. That is a big Sunday celebrating the Holy Spirit, or the Holy Ghost as I like to put it. I like that Olde English parlance. The Holy Ghost.
We had the Holy Ghost and the Holy Grosz, both in the same church!
Ahem.
You must pardon me. I am still a little punchy from the plague I caught in New York. Sunday morning, driving to church, I realized it was the first time in over a week I was in my car. The Sunday before, I could not get out of bed.
An artist visited my house that Sunday and painted this picture.
What with getting to church yesterday, Bishop Grosz in his bright red vestments and Howard fixing the kitchen sink, yesterday was a pretty good day. Another thing, the other day I was able to score a new picture of Leonard Pennario, a very rare photo I had no idea existed. With other famous people in it.
That was one good thing at least about spending a week as a convalescent.
Howard has the greatest book lying around the house and today, lying around the house myself in convalescent mode, I took a peek at it. Above is a picture of the first page. When you open the book that is what you see! This beautiful quote.
"See! This our father did for us."
Then it gets better! You turn the page ...
And you see ...
Too great.
This book is copyright 1923. Howard says it has chapters in which it complains about how current houses are made shoddily next to houses of the past. I love that.
Most of all I love the high-minded quote. I love books that begin with high-minded quotes. It is like "The Joy of Cooking," which begins with a great one:
"That which thy fathers have bequeathed to thee Earn it anew, if thou wouldst possess it." -- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
There was this book I read on the art of soap making that began with a quote from St. Paul. I loved that! Unfortunately it had to go back to the library so I cannot quote it.
I will have to find a splendidly high-minded quote with which to begin my book on Leonard Pennario.
Steinway rolled out the red carpet for the Leonard Pennario biographer!
I was there for something like two hours! Plus they let me and my friend Lizzie tour the basement and everything. That is where the great concert artists such as Pennario go to select their concert grands.
But yikes, my hair was so frizzy. I am looking at the picture above and wringing my hands. When I was in New York I was out in the rain something like three days in a row, zut alors. One reason I came down with the plague. There I am in this picture, unaware that this cold was mutating inside my body, thinking of nothing but Leonard Pennario and his history with Steinway, la la la la la la la.
To the right of me is the one, the only, the great Irene Wlodarski, the National Coordinator of the Concerts and Artists Department. She remembered Pennario personally and she recognizes his greatness, a most excellent and erudite thing in a person.
Ms. Wlodarski was nice and even allowed me to bitch when I walked into the main atrium of Steinway Hall and sniffed at the big portrait of Billy Joel.
"Leonard should be there instead," I informed her.
She showed me through the Leonard Pennario file which was fat and not skinny as I had expected. There were a lot of papers! And we talked about how we might collaborate in the future.
I went to New York City to see the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra play at Carnegie Hall and while I was there, yikes, I caught this bug. For the past two and a half days I have been sleeping! But now I am up. It is almost midnight so I still have time to write in the Web log on today's date and make my hiatus one day shorter.
One thing I did in NYC before the bug descended was, I went to Mass and Confession at the Paulist Church. That is the church where Leonard Pennario used to go when he was in New York.
It was cool to go to that church and I found out why he went to Mass there: It is just a couple of blocks from Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center. I felt a little emotional walking in the doors.
It is a beautiful old church. There was also this very cool statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary which I photographed up above. Beautiful and simple. And here is a stunning crucifix.
There was a guy with an instrument case at Mass. Very New York. And here is what was also very New York: There was a person texting in the confession line!
A slim, stylish Asian girl, two people ahead of me. And she looked like the people you see texting at stoplights, glancing up at regular intervals to make sure the light has not changed. She would glance up to make sure the confessional had not opened.
When it did, the phone went into her pocket and she went into the booth.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York, as that New York columnist would put it.
Judge not, and ye shall not be judged. We shall give the confession texter the benefit of the doubt.
My mom and I were out walking and we were talking about what a beautiful day it was.
Honest, it felt like a Hollywood set. The robins and the mourning doves were singing. It was early evening and there was the aroma of people grilling things. The yard was a carpet of violets. Beautiful and perfect for the first day of May. We spoke of that.
Then my mother said, "I think it's terrible how it's been taken over by the Russians."
She meant International Workers Day. I said, "Mom, me too!"
My mother said: "It used to be a day for the Blessed Mother." Well, all of May was but May 1 signaled the start of it and there used to be May Day celebrations.
Why do we need International Workers Day? We have Labor Day. My mother made that argument a long time ago. This has bugged her for years.
International Workers Day has bugged other people too. It bugged Pope Pius XII enough so that he instituted the Feast of St. Joseph the Worker in 1955, so the Communists would not "own" that day. I always wondered where that feast day came from. I just looked it up and that was how.
Anyway, we can defiantly celebrate May Day anyway on the Leonard Pennario Web log, with the great Irish tenor Frank Patterson.
