Northern Lights Farewell Tour!  Last week we packed up the car (a rental, since the Vampyre is not as immortal as its name might suggest) and hit the road for a 9-day extravaganza of fond farewells.  The concept of the trip was to say goodbye to our northern relatives before the snow set in, but two feet of the white stuff beat us to Buffalo, giving further credence to Dad’s theory that upstate New York has only three seasons: June, July and winter.

First Stop:  Harrisburg, PA, where the star attractions were Allen’s sister Butchie (aka Mary) and her husband, Gene (aka Genia) with back-up performances by their son, Jerry, and girlfriend, Linda.  Braving the winds blowing across the Susquehanna River, we settled back under a blanket in a horse-drawn carriage, which trotted along taking us on a leisurely tour of the thriving Harrisburg metropolis.  This jaunt was thwarted only by the closing of streets for an Oyster Fest, apparently organized solely to ward off Diana, who is deathly allergic to the slimy little beasts (no offense to the oysters’ mothers). Our dinner together, and the rest of the trip, is memorialized here.  Regrettably, Diana has yet to get the hang of a digital camera, as will be obvious from these photos.  (The good ones are by Allen.  Diana had to throw in the bird shot from Aruba to spice things up a bit!)

We have to note, that for this trip, Gene cut us a break on the room charges.  His itemized room charges included $285 for the cheap weekend rates, a mere $65 for the use of the bathroom, a buck-50 per sheet of toilet paper, and entertainment by the Melby Sisters, Dixie and Bellie (Butchie and Gene’s calico cats).  We were astounded to learn that breakfast was provided at no cost.  There were other charges too numerous to mention.  After leaving for Utica, it occurred to us that Gene had never paid us for his last stay at our house.  A sly devil, that Gene.

Nexxxxxt stop, Utica (okay, New Hartford), NY, where Mom and Dad (aka Billie and Paul) got top billing by feeding us more delicious food than anyone should eat in a lifetime.  Shameful displays of culinary excellence.  We’re still trying to figure out the conspiracy here: did they want to save us the cost of eating in Mexico or Italy, because we’d still be stuffed; or did they want to give us heart attacks so we would never leave?  Upon reflection, the only unhealthy part was entirely Diana’s doing: a cannoli breakfast at Café CaNole, a dietary indulgence for which she paid dearly, and hopes everyone else did, too.   At the Café, Paul regaled us with the story of how an Italian film director had come to Utica to make a movie called “Come Away With Me.”  The owners of the café were both featured in the film which we purchased and watched. To atone for all the heavy [fork] lifting, Diana performed penance by rising at the crack of dawn each morning to walk with Mom for an hour, back and forth under the overhang at the New Hartford shopping center, which mostly kept out the driving rain but didn’t make much of a dent against the biting cold.

Also center stage were Grandma Flo, who creamed us at Crazy 8’s and Go Fish (not to mention Rummy-Q) because we’re not smart enough to play bridge with her (but smart enough not to play bridge against her); and brother Steve, his wife, Barbara, their 13-year-old daughter Cassie and 7-year-old son, Andrew.  We saw Cassie make some great saves in her last field hockey game of the year (Go, Spartans!) (Gee, we hope that’s still the name of your team!) and enjoyed the sting of Andrew’s sharp wit and humor. The boy may be on his way to a genius status if this keeps up.

And how could we fail to mention our dear friends Lois and Stu, who gave us a professional tour of the new “Photography As Sculpture” exhibit at the Munson-Williams?  We were especially grateful for the video showing how to make front-loading washing machines into cameras, since that’s about all ours seems to be good for.

After four nights in Utica, we decided to make a run for the border (and we didn’t even eat any tacos!) and spent a night in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Canada.  This was a real eye-opener for us, first of all because the nasty weather let up for long enough for us to actually do some sight-seeing, but especially because we didn’t know you could make such great wine in such a northerly climate.  We stayed at a wonderful little B&B called “Heron House”, which was right in town and walking distance to all the shops and shows.  At Mom and Dad’s recommendation, we ate dinner at the Hillebrand Winery, which – we kid you not – was in the same league with restaurant Per Se in Manhattan.  We ordered the wine pairings, and the one that came with Diana's first course was a Gamay Noir Rose.  Rose??!!  Diana hasn’t had one of those since the ‘70s!  (Sorry, Mom, you weren’t supposed to know about the underage drinking.)  (Allen cops to having had a glass of Mateus during a bad moment in 1981.)   She inhaled the bouquet – and it smelled sweet.  She took a sip, and it tasted sweet on her tongue.  And then she swallowed – and it wasn’t a bit sweet!  It was fantastic!  And then she fell off her chair.  Or that may have happened after about the third course, we’re having some trouble with our memory.  At that point, we began to inquire about the cost of a taxi to the show we had tickets for – and they offered to drive us there themselves!  In the end, we did make it to the show safely in our own vehicle, only to sleep through the second act of Noel Coward’s “Design for Living”, which as aspiring screenwriters we can say with some confidence could have been deleted.  But the acting was great, even if the show, which must have been scandalous in 1934 when it premiered, was a bit predictable.

We left the following morning after being feted with berries and cream, homemade scones, cheese omelets, the whole works.  (Too bad the B&B is for sale!)   On the way to Pennsylvania, we stopped off at Niagara Falls, first the Canadian side, then the American side, just for long enough to avoid paying for parking or being ticketed.  (And yes, we did declare the 6 bottles of who’d-a-thunk-it Canadian wine we carried across the border!)  Allen was prepared to drink them all should we be prohibited from importing them.

But we were rudely awakened from the magical mystery tour just about the time we crossed into Pennsylvania.   That’s when the rains hit: so cold and intense that we decided not even to carry our bags inside when we reached the home of Allen’s niece, Cookie (aka Dorothy) and her husband, Rick, in Corry.  We were warmed from heart to toe by their welcome, and that of their grandson, Brett (8), and his parents, Rick and Patty.  Brett showed us photos of his winning race cars and sail boats, and Rick and Patty gave us a tour of their gorgeous new home (which was even worth going out in the rain again for!).  Cookie and Rick Sr. threw us out after breakfast when we appeared wearing yesterday’s clothes.  (Hey, we did bring in our toothbrushes.)  Did we mention their wonderful cat who thinks he’s a dog?  He was all over us, wanting his tummy scratched and all the attention normally given to a dog.  Diana had to trick him just to get him off our bed, which he clearly thought he was entitled to sleep in (which he probably was when we’re not there).

The encore performance was held in Meadville, PA, at the home of Allen’s brother, David, and his wife, Peggy.  We arrived literally minutes ahead of our dear friends, Lynn and Chuck, who drove in from Akron, OH.  Lynn and Diana are aiming for a world record of pen-pal-ship: they have been corresponding since Diana was 5 years old and Lynn stopped being her next-door-neighbor.  Lynn’s husband, Chuck, is a living testament to our faith in alternative medicine; the last time Diana saw him, he was literally getting his affairs in order.  Death was a constant topic of discussion in their home.  Thanks to a great naturopathic practitioner and a few well-chosen herbs and vitamins, Chuck is now slim and spry and off nearly all his prescription medications.

After Peggy prepared us an Italian feast (are you detecting a food theme in this blog?) Lynn and Chuck drove off with our computer (Hey! You! Come back here!).  That night, we were treated to Meadville’s Event of the Year – the Halloween Parade, which is the largest night-time parade in all of Pennsylvania.  Mind you, any rational person would have cancelled this thing.  Pouring rain, gale-force winds, 34 degrees.  And yet marching down the street (we watched it through the window from Peggy’s Aunt Carmella’s house) came little girls wearing tutus and twirling batons, tractor-trailers pulling industrial-strength floats, marching bands and even a convoy of self-described “redneck” pickup trucks.  A real Fellini moment.  Actually, 2 hours.

When we awoke on Sunday, the car was covered with snow and more was falling fast.  We hightailed it out of there, but 60 miles out there was nothing but sun and warmth…even in West Virginia, it was in the high 50s.   Since we’ve been home, it’s risen to near 70 and we don’t even need jackets.  So to those in Utica and Corry and Meadville who tell us the bad weather there was just a coincidence, all we can say is: we don’t believe you.