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Rock, Raker, Revisitors,.... - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Rock, Raker, Revisitors,....

That's the semi-obscured story of my past 24-ish hours.  In reverse order:

We made plans with a friend of Eleanor's to see an amazing film at a historic venue.  The North Park theater is the only old-timey movie house in Buffalo's city limits; downtown's movie palaces were either demolished (including the Century, which Harvey Weinstein turned into a concert hall in the 70s) or repurposed (Shea's, now a bus-and-truck Broadway hall).  I first discovered it in law school, when it became the local home of the Universal re-release of the "lost" Hitchcock films; a locally based small chain took it over and turned it into something of an art house, but it closed a few years ago, in need of new seating and digitization. A local attorney bought the building and put in the needed repairs; this is how it looks now:

We were not there for Christmas Story, but rather the future classic of animation Loving Vincent. It traces Van Gogh's final days and death in the period immediately following it, and it does so through hand-drawn animation that is both faithful to the artist's own style and a realism of movement rarely seen even from the Big Boy Studios.

Eleanor's guest lives close-ish to the theater off of Hertel Avenue, so we took just the one car, and I waited in the lobby as she collected Julia and brought her in just as the previews were starting. (The first was for Last Jedi, and we agreed that this venue was suitably historic for us to choose to see that in later this month; the theater's history and the recent reno are nicely documented here.)  Following the film, I walked somewhere between one and two miles toward where Eleanor was dropping off her friend, and she found me soon afterward and we headed home. 


Sunday morning was the usual- dog park (reunited with our regular buds for the first time in three weeks). followed by a workout- but more working out awaited after I got home.

Meet Dave:


That's how he looked, in a summertime entry I posted over three years ago:

Eleanor took down an old-style clothesline that had been limping along parallel to our western lot line, and I contributed to the ceremonial removal of the cement cast that had anchored it closest to the house. Somehow wanting to do SOMETHING to contribute to things around here, and remembering how nicely Emily's pin oak had come along, I drove over to the then hardware-garden division of Wegmans, picked one out, and stuck it in, first, my trunk and, then, the hole.  We named it Dave, in honor of Letterman's recent ascension to the hosting of the CBS Late Show. It's going on 20 years for both Daves, now, and ours may not be as funny, but he's a hell of a lot bigger.

Letterman has retired, but Tree has not. He does, however, drop his leaves every fall, but since he's a pin  oak, that drop tends to come on a day relatively late in the season and, when it comes, it comes almost all at once.  This year, Saturday was that day; I looked out after the dog at one point and saw his crown was empty and the circumference of orangey leaves on the lawn was huge.

I warmed up with a garbage can or two late yesterday afternoon while Eleanor was cooking and the animals were annoying, but once the Bills' game started today, I got out there and cleared the turf until my back's protests over walk, park and workout got too loud to ignore. 

By the time the game ended (not happily), we moved on to another film- this one at home.


Eleanor's kept pretty busy, with multiple PT appointments during the week, followups with doctors and the usual management of home and retail- including having to repurchase underwear destroyed by the dog when we're out at the cinema:P  But on days like Friday, she's been cataloging our hundreds of films, and she watched Marathon Man, written for the screen by longtime Hollywood scribe William Goldman.  He's perhaps best known for writing the original material for Princess Bride (named on the book itself shown in the film as  S. Morgenstern), but I remember him fondly for adapting another novel to the screen at around the same time as Marathon Man:

The Hot Rock put Robert Redford in the role of Donald E. Westlake's uberthief John Dortmunder, and George Segal as his neurotic safecracking partner (and brother-in-law) Kelp. It never gained Redford the fame of Butch Cassidy before it or The Sting and others to follow, but it's always had a place in my heart for using East Meadow's own Nassau County Jail as the state prison which Dortmunder gets out of, and ultimately breaks back into, during the course of the film.   That hoosegow was across the street from my high school, which you can see tiny corners of as Kelp is picking him up early in the film; and the chase scene you see in the trailer goes through the Modell's parking lot, which six years later would become the site of my first job.

Eleanor had never seen it, just as she had never been inside the North Park. So it was a weekend of fond remembrances for me and of new experiences for her, enjoyable all the way round:)


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