In Praise of Cold Cuts


Our dear friend Patty from New Jersey came to visit us this past weekend, direct from Hoboken, NJ, birthplace of Frank Sinatra and baseball, and the place Brenda & I called home for eight years or so. Patty brought a gift, one that took thought and compassion for our current situation, and we appreciated it deeply. Patty brought cold cuts. See, when you grow up Italian in the New York area, with Grandparents living in the Parkchester section of Bronx, NY, you get accustomed to having access to fine quality cold cuts -- prosciutto, sopressatta and of course, the ultimate in cured fatty meats: coppa. Pronounced "KOO-pa" in my family, this meat is often pronounced "kappa-GOOL" by many Italians. C'est…

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Ernie on the Waterfront


I was wrapped up in learning the many secrets contained in my new jewel of a geek toy when Brenda called. She was going to Hoboken, with me or without me, to catch Ernie’s act. At a little after 8:00PM, I decided to at least try and catch the last bit of his act, and as I got off the PATH train at my old haunt—Hoboken Terminal—I could hear a muted singing voice… Frank Sinatra was singing in his hometown, before a small crowd, assembled at the amphitheatre in the park that bears his name. OK, so it wasn’t Old Blue Eyes. But Ernie Contri is one hell of a…

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