\t\t\t\tWe ended the month of September in upper New York on Lake Ontario. We stayed at the home of my son Dan\u2019s in Hilton on Thursday night and then drove to Oswego for son Andy\u2019s wedding. We had rooms in a Best Western Motel alone the shore of the Oswego River. We could see the Lake from our small balcony. Oswego was the town where for many years Andy had lived and was still the home of his bride to be Annie Chwalek. We had a rehearsal dinner on Friday night just down a hill from the Motel. Saturday we were driven to the town of Mexico where at the Arena Eis Haus where the couple would take their vows. The wedding was in a beautiful garden outside the restaurant as evening came. Then we had a celebration inside for the rest of the night. All of my children and grandchildren were there so it could be said; \u201cThe gang\u2019s all here!\u201d<\/p>\n
One of the extras for me was the company of Annie\u2019s dad John. He was a retired lawyer, Federal Arbitrator, holder of other appointed offices in Oswego, and a Democrat. John\u2019s wife\u2019s name was Mary, which was another coincidence for June and I. June\u2019s sister Mary is married to a John, and his parents were also John and Mary! So it was another thing that made us feel comfortable with them both. I had the pleasure of sitting both at the rehearsal dinner and the wedding celebration meal with John. He enjoyed telling stories giving me another reason to enjoy his company.<\/p>\n
As we began our trip home by air from Rochester we had another surprise. After checking in there was an announcement that the flight from Rochester to Philadelphia was over booked. They asked for volunteers to give up their seats for another flight. After some time and apparently no one having offered to do so, we heard our names announced asking us to come to the check in counter. They asked us if we would change our flight from Philadelphia to D.C. They offered us two tickets to anywhere in continental U.S. where U.S. Air flies. We took their offer. The flight to D.C. was at the next gate and we arrived home even earlier than we would have on the Philadelphia flight!<\/p>\n
On the flight to St. Pete\u2019s I read an article in the New York Times reporting that Kraft food was inaugurating a campaign to sell cheese by declaring that eating a \u201cgrilled cheese sandwich\u201d will bring you a state of\u00a0 \u2018Happiness\u2019. Grilled cheese sandwiches are one of my favorite lunches when eating out. But I can never recall it bringing me the mental state of happiness. Happiness is \u2018enjoyment, pleasure, enjoyment, high spirits, satisfaction, etc., all mental concepts. I suppose you could say it does bring enjoyment to the taste, removes hunger but to me that\u2019s a far reach of the concept \u201chappiness\u201d. I had all these thoughts about the use of words when I came across an essay by a journalist from the LATimes entitled \u201cGenius or just ludicrous?\u201d (laughable because of obvious incongruity) Her name was Meaghan Daum and she was referring to the MacArthur Fellows awards. The media has been applying the moniker \u2018genius\u2019 to all the awardees. The author notes that what is particularly insulting about this naming now are that the category of \u2018genius\u2019 has become increasingly overcrowded. \u201cBlame it on the democratization of intellect\u2026or the same kind of etymological pandemonium that led to \u201csick\u2019 suddenly meaning \u201ccool\u201d, but these days it seems that every third person is a genius.\u201d She notes that \u201cgenius\u201d in the last few weeks has been applied to NFL coach Bill Belichick, rapper Ludacris, the famous mime Marcel Marceau, and Alex, the African grey parrot who knew 100 English words, could count numbers up to six, and died at the age of 31! It seems the old standard of genius like an Einstein has been destroyed. So now \u2018happiness\u2019 is arrived at by eating a grilled cheese sandwich (if made with Kraft Cheese of course)!<\/p>\n
The use of these words as the author noted is ludicrous. The incongruity is that they have created fictional meanings for them. It is fiction where it shouldn\u2019t be. I encountered some good fiction in the past month, it was JK Rowland\u2019s seventh Harry Potter story. It was \u201cHarry Potter and the Deathly Hallows\u201d It was, I believe, the longest of all the books previous but her style made it easy reading. While reading it I would have like to have had a \u201cHarry Potter Dictionary and Personnel List\u201d. I had read the previous books but my memory found it difficult to perceive who were the good guys and who were not. Also several descriptive words were hard to recall as to what they referred. Nevertheless it was a great story and easy reading. She certainly is in a class with CS Lewis and JRR Tolkien when it comes to fantasy fiction.<\/p>\n
Now back to my real life incident that sounds like fiction. Tony and I had had another ride; it was with a homicide detective from the Philadelphia police. I received a phone call from the detective, who had an Irish name. He knew I was Tony\u2019s lawyer and he wanted to talk to him about his cellmate. Tony\u2019s cellmate of the last seven years had offered information on an unsolved homicide implicating Tony. The officer was fairly sure that Tony\u2019s participation was a creature of the cellmate\u2019s story telling, but he wanted to confirm it. I put some calls out for Tony. You never just rang Tony. You called his home. His mother would be vague as who \u201cTony\u201d was, until you identified yourself to her satisfaction. She had, because of other calls I made, came to recognize my voice. She gave me the standard answer she would give him the message when she could. Eventually he responded.<\/p>\n
Tony was not agreeable to any talk with any cop. I explained that we were within the appeal time of the decision, and cooperating with the detective might buy us some good will with the District Attorney. So, after hemming and hawing, he agreed as long as it was on his turf and on his time. So it was set for 10 P.M. at the Melrose Diner, in South Philadelphia, a few nights later.<\/p>\n
He advised me to pick him up with a cab at a luncheonette somewhere on Ninth Street in South Philly. We would go from there to the Melrose diner. When I arrived around 9:45 P.M. the place was empty. It also appeared to be not a very well stocked eating-place. The counter behind where the people would sit for service were empty. From out a back door at the end of the counter sprung a gentleman asking who was calling. Behind him, through the open door I could hear a great deal of noise, I could see a large tote board on the opposite wall. It was a miniature casino. The \u201cgentleman\u201d, a large ill-humored gorilla inquired again of our mission. I told him I was looking for Tony Perpiglia and that I was his attorney. He asked me my name, and went back into the noisy room. A few minutes later Tony appeared and we were off to the Melrose for our rendezvous.<\/p>\n
Tony selected a booth. We sat to wait for the homicide detective. He arrived shortly and joined us for coffee. He started questioning Tony regarding his cellmate. Tony demonstrated a masterful command of the monosyllable. He would nod, say \u201cyea\u201c, \u201dnah\u201d, \u201cmaybe\u201d, \u201ddunno\u201d, and so on. While the detective talked, Tony hardly looked at him. His eyes kept darting around the diner like he was looking for someone, or afraid maybe someone might see him with a cop. The detective persevered. He seemed to be getting no where. Suddenly, Tony says, \u201dLet\u2019s get atta here\u201d. So we did.<\/p>\n
There is cab stand just outside the diner. We hired one and the detective and I got in the back. Tony sat next to the driver. He gave the driver a residence address in Southwest Philly. It was his mother\u2019s home. We drove off in silence.<\/p>\n
Now imagine the driver\u2019s state of mind. It\u2019s late at night. Three guys climb into a cab. Give an address of a house tucked away on a small street in Southwest Philly. They appear to be friends, but nothing is said, not a word. Sitting in the back seat I watched the driver\u2019s eyes looking us over through the rear view mirror. The silence continued. There wasn\u2019t even a whispered conversation. His eyes kept darting from face to face between watching the road. After about 10 minutes the driver gave up the ghost of resistance and exclaimed, \u201dYouse guys cops?\u201d The laughter from the front seat was riotous. \u201cYeah, weese cops,\u201d says Tony. Even the cop broke into a grin.<\/p>\n
The remainder of the ride was relaxed. I got to meet Tony\u2019s mom. The detective continued his questioning in the kitchen with no apparent success However, when he was about to leave I learned it must have been of some help, since he indicated he would no longer pursue it with Tony.<\/p>\n
I advised Tony of the detective\u2019s conclusions. He still expressed his anger for even bothering. I told him it couldn\u2019t hurt with the District Attorney, or with a court in the future. Eventually it may have helped because the District Attorney let the appeal time elapsed and decided he would not re-try Tony.<\/p>\n
The next and last time I saw Tony he was on the front page of the Evening Bulletin. He was dead on the floor of a bank with a Halloween mask covering his face. A stake out officer had shot him as he tried to rob the bank.<\/p>\n
He was free. Free to plan a bank robbery. Free to have himself gunned down. Free to bring an end to his life and his friendship with his young lawyer. He is certainly one of my most \u2018unforgettable characters\u2019. This is how I remember Tony!<\/p>\n
Until next time, Pax Tecum!\t\t<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We ended the month of September in upper New York on Lake Ontario. We stayed at the home of my son Dan\u2019s in Hilton on Thursday night and then drove to Oswego for son Andy\u2019s wedding. We had rooms in a Best Western Motel alone the shore of the Oswego River. We could see the … <\/p>\n