tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-173857882024-03-13T06:09:21.181-04:00buffalorootsAn extension of Buffaloroots.com. A place for quick previews of live show reviews and other features on the site. A place for things that need to be addressed. A place, finally, for feedback.valhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18128379950725155575noreply@blogger.comBlogger1375125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-18872357083041832892015-09-20T15:15:00.002-04:002015-09-20T15:43:28.378-04:00Pit Bull Blends and Stupid People Being the parents and alleged owner of a pit bull or pit bull blend dog is simply fantastic, at least for Val and I, and Harold has fit in wonderfully after Walker Evans died about 3 1/2 years ago. Indeed, we just celebrated Harold's 3-year adoption anniversary after the folks at the City of Buffalo Animal Shelter rescued and returned him to health.<br />
<br />
But you know from the start that you will be on the receiving end of many unsolicited, unwanted and absolutely uninformed comments about your dog such as Harold in specific as well as the breed overall. We have all heard way too may times about how pit bulls' jaws lock (they don't), how they are both natural and trained killers with no compunction (sounds more like hype for Shark Week on television and obviously untrue), and how you can't leave them alone for a moment with children and they were never bred to be near them (pit bulls have a documented history of being loving family and children's pets).<br />
<br />
But no matter how hard we pit bull people and dog professionals (shelter workers, trainers, veterinarians, rescuers, etc.) work to bring sanity and reality to the conversation and deflate ignorance, situations arise where no matter how hard we try, stupidity and fear seem to prevail.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV831kRpm7HUUn4qoZehq9VVwyVqGM2Lv3j6AFK-Pw-XdfonIHzvbErhMQt4OXZkjyjZcoHk7V66Gl4cZFMtDV7mzRyLsrJbxthbpKmIIozcb_FpbHr3-D7NxkYPfXsQ9NT50/s1600/1075873_10151523230010773_1490061794_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV831kRpm7HUUn4qoZehq9VVwyVqGM2Lv3j6AFK-Pw-XdfonIHzvbErhMQt4OXZkjyjZcoHk7V66Gl4cZFMtDV7mzRyLsrJbxthbpKmIIozcb_FpbHr3-D7NxkYPfXsQ9NT50/s320/1075873_10151523230010773_1490061794_n.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most animal aggressive? Me?</td></tr>
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Harold and I went on a long early-afternoon walk Sunday, September 20; as we came within about 3 blocks of home, a woman on her bicycle behind us asked me what breed he was; she thought he looked like a pit bull-boxer blend. I told her that Harold was a pit bull-Cane Corso mastiff blend. She said that she thought she could see some of it in his nose, and asked if I thought that the mastiff in Harold was why he was so calm and not as uptight and frazzled like a pure pit bull. I got a quizzical look on my face and said no, I didn't believe so, and that put bulls were not necessarily more uptight or harder to control than any other dog. I added that after Harold had been adopted from the Buffalo Animal Shelter, that he had been to obedience training and goes to day care once a week at K9 Connection on Niagara Street, and that the people there do a great job.<br />
<br />
"Oh, come on; you know that rescue pit bulls are by far the most animal-aggressive dogs there are. I mean, the woman who does my hair just told me today that her dog got badly bit by a pit bull," the woman then said. "I think that every rescue pit bull, without exception, should go through obedience training before they are adopted, if they are to be adopted." I heartily disagreed, pointing out that study after study indicated that many other breeds were more violence-prone, while none to my knowledge are in any dangerous attack rating problem. She disputed this, and I replied that I could cite her studies and testimony from dog rescuers, trainers, veterinarians and other professionals that showed pit bulls weer not the dangerous dog she was making them out to be.<br />
<br />
When I pointed out that some studies shows that daschunds and chihuahuas were among the dogs involved in most bite incidents with peoples and it didn't make them inherently dangerous, threatening animals, she laughed and said that obviously a dog bite from a daschund or chihuahua couldn't penetrate or hurt like a pit bull or other large dog. I said that the teeth were just as hard and their jaws could bite pretty hard and to ask someone bit by a small dog how much less it apparently hurt. She laughed, said she would rather be bitten by a chihuahua any day and rode away.<br />
<br />
All of this time, Harold sat there quietly, sniffing some vegetation along a fence line and looking up at me occasionally. Proof in the pudding.<br />
<br />
Most people know Val and I will stand up for ourselves and those we love, obviously including Harold, and try to continue to disprove the unsubstantiated, baseless bad information and <br />
cliches too many people spread about pit bulls and other dogs. <br />
<br />Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-53784158285709083072014-06-16T11:46:00.002-04:002014-06-16T11:49:11.863-04:00Fox On the Run You might say that we are an urban family, living in the City of Buffalo
and our dog Harold being lost and found here (thanks to the City of Buffalo
Animal Shelter). So, country visits are cool and taken advantage of by all.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are also rare, and mainly consist of Val’s weekly (during the
summer and spring) therapeutic horse riding sessions at the Rivendell
Recreation Center on South Wales. While Val does her therapy session, Harold
and I take a long country walk on the surrounding rolling country roads.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saturday is the day for Val’s horse
riding, and this Saturday appeared to be a fine day for a walk; cloudy
(hopefully the rain would not come), a bit cool and breezy but still with the
temperature in the 60s, so neither Harold nor I would feel too hot or tire too
fast. Happily, it also meant that I didn’t have to wear a hat. After Harold and
I walked Val over to the stable and into the fine hands of the staff and
volunteers at Rivendell (and these volunteers and staff are simply incredible people),
off we went over the lawn and onto Warner Hill Road.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Warner Hill Road, like the other roads in this rural area, is rolling
lanes through mostly farms and horse stables, often both, along with houses,
many old but some new builds. We take one of two basic routes, and this day we
took Warner Hill Road about 3/4 of a mile (maybe a bit longer) to Merlau<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvnij0zDIMAL7BrtmVPrpFUa8JGmdWjCzVhqNTDXIWPEg64ULQt_91Ca2JQwi66rgmcdoclr6cL71jUC4qhC7OohOe3dqS-bAoH35RrptnmosBRNB-TkhM5PJe4zWmJYV-Vo/s1600/xxxRedFox6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvnij0zDIMAL7BrtmVPrpFUa8JGmdWjCzVhqNTDXIWPEg64ULQt_91Ca2JQwi66rgmcdoclr6cL71jUC4qhC7OohOe3dqS-bAoH35RrptnmosBRNB-TkhM5PJe4zWmJYV-Vo/s1600/xxxRedFox6.jpg" height="196" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do not want to hear one joke about Fox News.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Road;
we turn down Merlau Road, with a couple more homes but still very large
properties and some farming, which heads mainly downhill at first. Harold and I
usually go about 3/4 of a mile before heading back, making our walk about 3
miles, taking about 50 minutes and perfect timing for when Val’s session ends.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Harold is in his glory during these country walks, with all of the
scents and smells from animals, birds, crops, horses, cows and the like, of
course with a lot of attention paid to the waste left behind by the animals.
Harold also enjoys actual appearances by these animals, as well as some aquatic
life. But about a half-mile down Merlau, we encountered even more interesting
scents; first, a mound of brown fur kind of taken apart, then a larger pile
with what appeared to be dried blood. The stench was incredible, that of a dead
animal.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Before we found anything more, while Harold was busy sniffing the fur,
something caught my eye a couple of yards down the road. I looked up and saw a
red fox crossing from our side of Merlau to the other; just then, Harold looked
up and saw the fox, first stiffening his back and then starting to pull me toward
the fox. The fox looked at us, noticed Harold and took off across the street
and was last seen leaping into the tree line. Harold tried pulling more until I
told him that we weren’t going to chase the fox, and then tugged once on the
leash and he followed me.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We started to walk
back, but noticed the smell had become even worse, and in a couple of steps we
came across the rest of the carcass of a woodchuck, smelling to high hell and
teeming with maggots. Harold of course wanted to investigate further, but I
convinced him otherwise and we returned to Rivendell in a few minutes. Harold
maintained his usual Short Attention Span Theatre while I kept looking along
the tree line and fields for the fox. We did get to see who I believe is the
same red-winged blackbird we see every week we walk this way fly above us a
couple of times and land on a utility pole. Upon our return, Harold once again
enjoyed the smells of the horses and stable, and Val continues to tell him that
they are kind of like really big horses.</span>
Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-87305171112159835232014-06-04T16:56:00.002-04:002014-06-04T17:00:59.285-04:00Famous Green Raincoat <br />
Chance encounters, with objects as well as people, often lead to the
best memories.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkFvWgweA7QnAhsoCDxvTP1ar3-QYsq_iV1MxgX9VLtbrYZJwVREQ1bQXMonyxCjHHYi4soxNLql1N4-Iz9onSh1e6ud_Yzl39i0VSvAU6Q9Kv2GSCXMM-sHvAdpWb55kaf8/s1600/ny+buf+hengerers+60s+clr-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkFvWgweA7QnAhsoCDxvTP1ar3-QYsq_iV1MxgX9VLtbrYZJwVREQ1bQXMonyxCjHHYi4soxNLql1N4-Iz9onSh1e6ud_Yzl39i0VSvAU6Q9Kv2GSCXMM-sHvAdpWb55kaf8/s1600/ny+buf+hengerers+60s+clr-1.jpg" height="127" width="200" /></a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was taking some bedding from the washing machine to place on the back
porch railings to dry (our dryer has decided to stop heating the air it puts
out), and I had to walk through the room the porch connects to, a storage room
of sorts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In that room, among old toilet fixtures and coffee makers for which
accessories are no longer made, is a metal clothing rack on wheels, about 5
feet high, with some classic items on it; most notably may be my wife Val’s
beloved Sweet Home High School letter jacket.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But what caught my attention was the dark green rain coat that I
inherited from my late father Edward, and I believe that he bought it new,
which means it could have been any time from the late 940s, after he graduated
from Grover Cleveland High School, or the early 1950s, after he returned from
his U.S. Army Korean War service. After I hung up the laundry, I had to go back
and check out the coat again, a coat which I pressed into service mainly for
two destinations/reasons.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The first thing I did as I took the coat off the hanger was look for and
find the inside pocket patch, which reads “Hengerer’s The Store for Men.” While a
bit stained and in need of dry cleaning, the coat at least no longer has the
cigarette smell it took on from my time wearing it to the Continental; for
those of you not from Buffalo, the Continental was the number-one punk, new
wave and alternative night club for both live and DJ music at 212 Franklin
Street. I loved wearing the coat, because it took on a real cool dark
green/black sheen in the less-than-ideally lit Continental, and several people
at times said it gave off a Mod look, surprising because if anything, I was
more of a rocker or punk, although in reality really a nerd or geek.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As I put on the coat, which still fits remarkably well (and I didn’t
even have to inhale to make it fit), I remembered the first times I wore it in
public, not for regular wear at the time but on stage in musicals at Lancaster
Central High School and the Lancaster Summer Playhouse. Particularly in high
school, the shows we performed were 1940s-1950s influenced (“On the Town,” “How
to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” and “Bye, Bye, Birdie”), and this
was something that looked right in place and actually impressed some of the
directors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I also remembered that my mother Sheila was the first person to
recommend I wear my father’s jacket, as well as some suits, in my high school
musicals; as just about every male high school student in the 1970s would do, I
hemmed and hawed and thought it would look stupid, and had to sheepishly agree
with my mother how good and in-period they looked. While my father sometimes
had difficulty being overly expressively with my late brother Brian and I
during our adolescence (and I assume with my sister Heather as well, although
he could say he was leaving that to my mother), he later came up, smiled, and
said that the suits and coat did look good on me, and that regardless of how
they looked, my mother would have won the argument.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I can get a decent
photograph of the coat, or me wearing it, I will post it here.</span>
Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-8464649873091855552014-05-20T10:34:00.003-04:002014-05-20T10:39:28.720-04:00When You Run with the Canines... <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjwtoKfMDQXtaVHATHvc1fqftSOQ1X6Cnt5GL85DvK3_NSylS6L3yHZrVlkGWmUp0xmebqeHMgTHEe28EnplDHhsCJyUwrV-_xe8HWNr0PqwIHTUjbHO1aMk36dTRThRccjI/s1600/DSCN0001+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjwtoKfMDQXtaVHATHvc1fqftSOQ1X6Cnt5GL85DvK3_NSylS6L3yHZrVlkGWmUp0xmebqeHMgTHEe28EnplDHhsCJyUwrV-_xe8HWNr0PqwIHTUjbHO1aMk36dTRThRccjI/s1600/DSCN0001+copy.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Photo: Val Dunne/Barkloud Productions</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In this corner: Me, the author, alleged human being, 6-foot-3, about 210
pounds (maybe closer to 200 pounds due to unemployment weight loss).
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the opposite corner: Harold Dunne Hosey, a pit bull/Cane Corso
mastiff blend canine, about 3 feet tall, weighing 64 pounds, apparently 60 of
them muscle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It wasn’t supposed to be a contest, match or squaring off of any kind
when Harold and I went into the backyard at about 6 p.m. Monday, just a normal
relief visit for Harold and some playtime for us. But, as it turned out, the
Clash of Titans occurred, and you can guess who won (hint: not me).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To get as much physical activity out of Harold as possible and to get
his pent-up energy flowing, I like to play stalk and chase Harold; we both know
that there is no way I will ever truly sneak up on him or, even more unlikely,
catch him, but it gets Harold running, and sometimes, he really cranks it up in
the spare property we have.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the games is for me to “sneak
up” on him as he looks out the front fence at the sidewalk and street; he
either goes to the left corner bordering our neighbor’s property, or the right
corner adjacent to our front porch; the left corner is on the lawn, the right
corner on the concrete driveway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Monday, he went to the right and was standing on the driveway, so I
“snuck up” on him; he was actually just barely looking over his shoulder at me
and starting to get into his hunch, from which he sprints away. Sometimes, he
goes around me by several feet, while other times, he comes close to me, as if
to get the most excitement by barely avoiding me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This time, he waiting just a touch longer than usual, with me about 15
feet away instead of 20 feet, and chose to run very close to me; unfortunately
for me, he turned even sharper than normal, and ran straight for me. I barely
was able to kind of yell out “Oh,” before Harold ran into me and sent me
airborne.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While some people have remarked that the low center of gravity caused
much of this, there is no way I would have been sent into the air simply
because of this; it would have been more likely that I tripped and fell
face-first. I went up and started to twist a bit; somehow, as I was coming down
(and this all happened within a couple of seconds), something told me to turn
and shift my head or shoulders, so I wouldn’t hit my head on the concrete and
really cause some damage. The experience of having all of this seem to happen
in slow motion allowed me to prepare.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But that’s prepare, not prevent, because I landed, and landed hard;
fortunately, I was able to prevent my head from hitting the driveway. It hit
the chain link fence, and while it didn’t feel great, no cut or bruise was
caused. I landed mainly on my right knee, hands and posterior, and the wind was
knocked out of me and some pain was felt in my rib cage. I landed slightly on
Harold, who barely moved when we collided and who was unhurt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What Harold was was concerned and a bit scared for me; he pushed my with
his nose a few times to see if I was OK, licked my face and sat against me,
very concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I was out
of wind, I was gasping for air and took a few moments to be able to force out a
few words, telling Harold I was OK and that I appreciated his concern and
protection. He seemed to calm down and licked my face again, and stood against
me until I finally stood up, after checking to see if I had been otherwise
hurt. We made our way to the back door a bit slower than usual, with me still
gulping for air and sounding rather pained as I spoke.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A final inventory of
injuries shows a brush burn about the size of a quarter on my right knee
bruises and scrapes on my hands as well as the pain from the ligaments around
the thumbs, and some pain in my ribcage. But the pain was much less than I
expected and much less than when I torn some tendons or cartilage there when I
had bronchitis a few years ago, and I can lift my arms above my head without
pain; I do have to sleep in one position and not on my side for a few days.
There is some pain when I bend or pick something up, but ibuprofen is handling
it. Harold has been doting on me since the collision, and happily suffered no
injuries; talk about a muscular head and shoulders.</span>
Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-66256090102323390022014-04-04T19:21:00.000-04:002014-04-04T19:22:09.059-04:00How Not to Gain My Petition SignatureJust in case you haven't had the glorious opportunity to do this, here is some advice to people helping candidates get on the ballot: Don't argue with a person whose signature you are seeking to get on the petition on the clipboard in your hands. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir38cz0uRhXBgr8WlINkEaliywCePsVjxzX2RnxgTJIhYDay0thvnAuLmbU8Wo-lFB-rA1jE9vXtN8pJ0sxTmy7fMgLc9pVp76O1TxnxNQw5G9j7QPF9ZrSUjI4NO-nkCH1_w/s1600/ENLARGE_01BoE.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir38cz0uRhXBgr8WlINkEaliywCePsVjxzX2RnxgTJIhYDay0thvnAuLmbU8Wo-lFB-rA1jE9vXtN8pJ0sxTmy7fMgLc9pVp76O1TxnxNQw5G9j7QPF9ZrSUjI4NO-nkCH1_w/s1600/ENLARGE_01BoE.png" height="150" width="200" /></a>During Harold and my walk today (Friday), as we approached Anderson while walking down Elmwood Avenue, a man about age 30 crossing the street looked at me and shouted, "Are you a registered voter in the City of Buffalo." Of course, I said yes, noting the clipboard and apparent petitions in his hand.<br />
He said that he was seeking petition signatures to get the name of a person on the ballot as a candidate for the Buffalo Board of Education. I did not recognize the candidate's name (male), so I said that I would like to know something about the candidate before I signed and wanted to ask a couple of questions.<br />
Before I could ask any, the man said that he didn't know any of the candidate's stands on issues, but that it didn't matter, because my signature would only qualify the candidate to get on the ballot and not indicate my support or be a vote for him. I told him that I still wanted to know where the candidate stood on certain issues before I committed my name/signature to him, and that I very well knew what petition signatures meant and indicated, because I have been a Democratic committeeman on Buffalo's West Side for about 10 years and have collected thousands of petition signatures.<br />
The man replied that it didn't matter, repeating his previous arguments and saying that I should be supporting and allowing alternative candidates and views to be aired to the public. I replied that I had no problem allowing varying candidates and their ideas to be aired, but that if I was going to sign my name to a petition to get a candidate's name on the ballot, I wanted to know something about that candidate, as well as the fact that voters can only sign a certain number of candidate petitions for any office. Thus, I wanted to make my voice count.<br />
I asked if this candidate had a web page; the man said no, but said that he had a Facebook account I could check. (When I got home, I tried to look but I could not find a Facebook page under the name on the petition or a slight variation of the first name.)<br />
The man looked at me and said, "So, you're saying that you don't want to allow Mr. X (the candidate, whose name I won't reveal because he did not act in this manner) to be able to get on the ballot and voice certain opinions." "No, sir, I did not say that. I said I will not sign my name to a candidate's petition without knowing something about him or her, which you can't even tell me." The man gave me a very loud "Have a good day," and walked away.<br />
Throughout this time, Harold was incredibly well behaved, sniffing and looking at the man and me, but as the other guy left, the pup muttered under his breath, "You know, Dad, just give me the signal and I'll pee on the next person who does that." Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-76581871544696608302014-04-03T19:37:00.001-04:002014-04-03T19:37:46.816-04:00Thoughts on Canines and PorchesWhile Harold and I were on our extended walk around Buffalo's West Side today, two items caused this anal, self-possessed, geeky writer to take notice.<br />
One was more an annoyance: As we proceeded down Richmond Avenue from West Ut<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyZo-9g1OeVmz4lnP5ZVPhmiZGH-F6aCmezaRjgNAWDjc3xc5pea5bgTwBCIii9h2TtLQxultwaFQpCkqOZ7nQNgGaBo3JivQkFROrvzYZnJ9toicgollc3kb304qzO_NG8do/s1600/1075873_10151523230010773_1490061794_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyZo-9g1OeVmz4lnP5ZVPhmiZGH-F6aCmezaRjgNAWDjc3xc5pea5bgTwBCIii9h2TtLQxultwaFQpCkqOZ7nQNgGaBo3JivQkFROrvzYZnJ9toicgollc3kb304qzO_NG8do/s1600/1075873_10151523230010773_1490061794_n.jpg" height="320" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harold say relax.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
ica Street toward Bryant Street, a male, about age 40-50, was riding his bicycle on the sidewalk toward us.<br />
Besides being annoyed at someone riding their bike on the sidewalk, particularly when there are dedicated bicycle lanes in both directions on Richmond, as we approached, the man stopped, got off his bicycle, stayed on the sidewalk and pretty much in our way, and just stared, with fear in his eyes, at Harold. Harold, a pit bull/mastiff/couch potato blend, barely turned his head to look at the man, instead sniffing a tree and pile of dirt/debris.<br />
But earlier in the walk, on the portion of West Utica Street on the other side of Richmond Avenue going toward the Five Corners, a more dangerous and negligent situation occurred. Across the street from us was a house, not in horrible condition but not owner-occupied or pristine, either. It basically looked structurally good except for the second-floor porch, which had no railing of any kind and was slightly sloped toward the front.<br />
The window to the apartment connecting to the porch was open, and a large, black-and-white dog was standing on it. He started to bark at Harold as we passed across the street, becoming rather animated in his barking, and he then started looking at the ground and for some way to jump down, no doubt wanting to exchange pleasantries with Harold. No resident or other people were observed at this house.<br />
I think I heard Harold bark under his breath at how foolish the resident and/or owner of the house was, because dogs expect their owners/parents to know better. Indeed.<br />
<br />Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-72588713493646494822014-03-14T11:48:00.001-04:002014-03-14T11:48:14.496-04:00Ulysses Grant, My Father and Some ReadingI just finished reading a very good, well-written book, and I have a feeling my late father Edward would be borrowing it from me, in case he didn't already have it, if he was still alive.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZGohu_1EysFmBmYSHIcCk0zjehAqYbvQ3FT9OO8E_W87yWm13-QJUCezLx28OkDFy59A_yFmft0dFtiKG32R6QpIUcZ31jGCsT1uPlrlnyMqmyDsfzybwhcjC4WGy286j64/s1600/9780307475152_p0_v1_s260x420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZGohu_1EysFmBmYSHIcCk0zjehAqYbvQ3FT9OO8E_W87yWm13-QJUCezLx28OkDFy59A_yFmft0dFtiKG32R6QpIUcZ31jGCsT1uPlrlnyMqmyDsfzybwhcjC4WGy286j64/s1600/9780307475152_p0_v1_s260x420.JPG" height="320" width="211" /></a>The book is "The Man Who Saved the Union: Ulysses Grant in War and Peace," by H. W. Brands (Anchor Books), which was published in 2012 and was one of the excellent Christmas gifts my lovely wife Val Dunne gave me this past holiday season. The 637-page book, not counting notes, was just published in paperback in time for the holiday season and the cover price was an amazingly reasonable $17.95.<br />
The author, through extensive use of letters, diaries, journals, official military and government documents, and other sources, details Grant's successes and failures, his early military career and leaving the U.S. Army for several years, business flops, his painful relationship with his cold father, and later his somewhat reluctant entrance into politics and attempts to avoid the worst of it while trying to succeed as the number-one American politician. His innate military knowledge and skills are balanced by his almost hatred and fear of public speaking, and Grant's drinking problems are both detailed and shown to be exaggerated.<br />
I have been a major reader of American history since my adolescence, mainly from 1900-present, but I did take some interest in the Civil War, which was sparked by my father's lifetime interest, reading and amateur research of sorts into it. As a child, I remember family vacations (always by car) to places such as Gettysburg (twice, and my father and mother Sheila visited it again several times after I moved out), Fort Sumter and Manassas/Bull Run. As well as those mentioned above, my father also visited the sites of the battles of Antietam, Shiloh and the Wilderness, and others I can't recall.<br />
When we sold my mother's house after my father died and my mother moved into assisted living, there were tons of books, many mine and many my father's. Among those I kept were two great photo histories of the Civil War, "The Blue and the Grey" and "Divided We Fought." I went through those two books again during and after finishing "The Man Who Saved the Union." Of course, with my father having been a Korean War U.S. Army veteran, I have extensively read about that war.<br />
Frankly, I can't think about the U.S. Civil War or Gettysburg without thinking about my father and his pride and reverence cor our country's history and the service of those who took part. With the 10th anniversary of my father's death approaching, they are nice memories to have.<br />
Thanks, Ed (something I would NEVER call him while he was alive). <br />
<br />
<br />Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-38268195836497037182014-02-12T10:40:00.000-05:002014-02-12T10:40:04.240-05:00Camaros, Rabbit Heads and DoubletakesI virtually snapped my neck when I walked from my car to the house at the amazing sight I beheld a few days ago.<br />
There, parked in the street next door to our house, was a late 1980s/early 1990s Chevrolet Camaro, with the oh, so classic dark grey/black (I wasn't certain, due to road salt effects) and bright pink paint scheme.<br />
What made this car even, er, better looking was, first, the pink color forming flames coming back off the engine compartment on the top and sides of the hood and parts of the doors. But even better, on the hood was a giant, 4-5-foot Playboy bunny head logo in black, with bright pink framing. I didn't even know they still made his detailing package, although I presume that there are lots of detailers who would do this custom job if contracted to do it.<br />
I admit that I lingered several times over the weekend while going to and leaving our car to not only get a look at the car, which I have never seen on our street before, but to see just who was the driver, including what their gender is. Sadly, between this and even looking out the window on occasion, I never saw the driver, who left while we were visiting friends for brunch.<br />
I checked Google Images to see if I could find a car matching this description, but despite viewing hundreds of images, I could not find one even close; whew, I think.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-21332568445141771142014-01-26T19:00:00.001-05:002014-01-26T19:00:29.835-05:00Really, Realtors?I know that we all have to hustle to make a buck (believe me, I know that right now), but certain people ought to at least put a bit of effort into it for all of our sake.<br />
Val and I own our house on Buffalo's West Side, as well as a piece of property next to it that used to have another house on it, which was destroyed in a fire years ago. The former owner of our house received that property in an insurance settlement and we own it now, and use it as out backyard and yard for Harold (our fine dog, in case you don't know) to romp in.<br />
So, like many property owners, we receive solicitations of sorts from realtors on occasion, ostensibly wanting to introduce themselves and see if we need a realtor to sell our home and property. Also, like most homeowners, we have no intention to sell our house and have never stated such an intention or contacted a realtor for this reason.<br />
In the last week, we have received six of these "hello, realtor" postcards, all of them addressed to<br />
"Valerie and Hosey Dunne;" four of them are from the same same realtor who works for a rather prominent and well-known real estate and insurance company. I mean, who wouldn't want to work with such knowledgeable, detail oriented and prepared realtors such as this?<br />I have no doubt that there are lists gathered by realty companies and either bought or shared that have our names on them like this, but if this easy and major an error has been made and is repeated, why should I or anyone else trust these realtors? I fully realize that not all realtors are like this, and indeed, the one realtor we have contacted in all of our years in this house, Katie Quebral, did an excellent job for my sister Heather and I selling our mother Sheila's house a few years ago, and she has not put us on some faceless contact list.<br />
So, in particular to this writer/editor/anal person, facts and accuracy do matter. Hell, at least get to know and call me by my name. Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-68385632524694491612014-01-14T13:44:00.000-05:002014-01-14T13:44:04.543-05:00Oratory at the Buffalo General Hospital ER My lovely wife Val and I spent almost 8 hours in the emergency department at Buffalo General Hospital, from 7:15 p.m. Monday, December 30, until 3 a.m. Tuesday, December 31, when we found out that her excruciating stomach, intestinal and chest pain were being caused by a gall stone. The gall stone and Val's gall bladder were removed later that morning, and she is progressing with her recovery.<br />
That almost 8-hour period was one of the worst I have endured with Val, not being able to help her after a while and her not being able to take anything for the pain until they were certain her problem wasn't coronary related. Sharing the portion of the large examining room with Val, separated by a heavy curtain and some space, was an elderly woman who was quickly admitted. The ER was rather busy that night for some reason, so we expected Val to get company rather quick.<br />
And did Val ever get company; a woman was brought in, groaning, crying and moaning almost nonstop, with her exclamations "dear Jesus," "dear Lord" and "oh, my sweet Jesus" getting louder when the medical staff (who were outstanding in the ER and elsewhere) tried to move or even question her. She was belligerent and uncooperative in her answers, and when she told them that she was diabetic, disdainfully told them that she didn't follow her dietary restrictions or take her medication because she didn't believe it would help. Her slurred speech was later confirmed as being due to her being intoxicated.<br />
After an hour or so of this floor show, and a couple of visits and tests for Val, the medical staff had left the room for both patients, so Val and I began to discuss what she could possibly be suffering from and what I should bring in if/when she was admitted, which we both assumed would happen.<br />
"Hey, no whispering about me over there. I know you're damn well talking about me and I don't like it," the other woman yelled to us. "Don't you dare talk about me over there, I don't have to take this."<br />
Val and I looked at each other and actually had the foresight to give each other the "sshh" sign while we laughed to ourselves, even in Val's pain. Oh, this could be a long night, being about 11 p.m. at this point.<br />
This went on for a few minutes with out Val or me responding; those who know me know I was all but biting my tongue off to stay silent, because I do fall into the Big Mick syndrome of you don't mess with my family, especially my wife, regardless the situation. But the woman began to scream and shout without stop about her situation, where was her family and about the "motherfuckers" next to her. (Note: I am using the MF word once in this blog post, and the rest of the time, MF will stand for that word, as if you couldn't tell).<br />
I had finally had enough.<br />
"You know, there are other people in this room and emergency department that are sick and don't want to hear you complaining all night, your highness," I said, realizing I might have opened the floodgates.<br />
"WHAT? How dare you talk to me like that, you white MF. I don't have to lay here and listen to that shit from you, you stupid white MF," our verbal angel replied. "Who do you think you are? You can kiss my as, you stupid white MF."<br />
"Sorry, ma'am, but my lips aren't big or stupid enough to do that. Just be quiet," I replied, laughing as I knew that this would make her madder, but sad that the staff would also have to put up with this. Val even laughed a bit, although it hurt her.<br />
"No one talks to me or laughs like that, you dumb white MF. You wait until I can get up off this thing and come over and kick your ass," she screamed. "You wait until my husband comes in, I'll send him over to kick your ass.<br /> "Sorry, ma'am, I'm already married, but I'm sure he's a real prize," I said, thinking this was like shooting fish in a barrel.<br />
As she yelled again, the medical and security staff came in; the nurse looked at us, apologized softly and then told the other woman that she has caused more than enough trouble and that a security guard would be posted with her until she was considered safe. The woman started to swear and complain about me, but the nurse said that she had heard what happened and that the woman was the instigator and only one swearing. The woman then asked her for about the 10th time to call her family; the nurse replied that her two contact people had been called; one spoken to, the other left a message.<br />
As the nurse spoke to Val and her upcoming ultrasound test, she said that the daughter she spoke with said this was the third time her mother had been taken to the ER, intoxicated and not taking her diabetes medication, this month, and that she had been abusive to staff and family members every time. She didn't know if any relatives would be coming to the hospital, which was rather sad.<br />
After Val got her diagnosis of gall stone and we were shown the stone on the ultrasound, the hospital started arranging her admittance and I called Val's mother Janice. As I spoke to Janice, the other woman was wheeled out and taken to another room under guard. Of course, she looked at me and started up again.<br />
"You shut the fuck up, you skinny white MF, you bald skinny MF," Miss Congeniality screamed to me.<br />
"Oh, are you going somewhere? Goodbye and say hello to your guard for me," I said, and as she yelled back at me, probably with spittle flying, I gave her the most theatrical wave until she was out of sight. As I finally left the hospital to get about 2 hours sleep and get ready for work, I walked past the room she had been moved to, and the guard was still with her.<br />
<br />Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-56981393314840460052014-01-09T18:57:00.001-05:002014-01-09T18:57:04.644-05:00I'm Back: The Threes Tried But Won't Stop Us It may be an annoying cliché, but events occurring in threes are
certainly affecting Val and my lives at the moment, as good a time as any to
restart this blog.
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the space of less than a week, Val underwent emergency surgery, I
became unemployed (hopefully short term), and we endured an actual blizzard a
part of some pretty bad weather.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My current job loss, after serving as director of communications for the
Erie County Legislature for two years, followed a previous term of unemployment
and service with the Erie County Legislature from 2004-2010, when I lost my job
for the basic same political reasons that would bore you if detailed. We will
come out of this better, but it never makes one’s self-esteem increase.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Val’s surgery, of course, is the most important and scary situation. She
had been having acid reflux for a while (one of her multiple sclerosis side
effects), and the new MS medication she is on can cause digestive track
problems. So, when she had worse stomach and intestinal problems in the last
year or so, she thought that they were for these reasons and had been trying to
further revise her diet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, on December 30, her pains were so bad that we ended up going to the
emergency room at Buffalo General Hospital, and spent from 7:15 p.m. until 3
a.m. in the ER when her problem was diagnosed. There, on the ultrasound screen,
was a big, not exactly bouncing gallstone. Val was admitted and had her surgery
later that morning, and the surgeon removed a 2-centimeter gallstone as well as
an inflamed gall bladder; the surgeon said she had never seen a gallstone that
large.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Val was in the hospital until her release New Year’s Day, and is
recovering at home, and like our dog Harold and me, is suffering from cabin
fever due to the blizzard. If the blizzard had to hit Buffalo, it came at the
right time for us, because Val wasn’t exactly up for much travel or partying,
and because I had done the grocery shopping on the usual day, we were more than
prepared for a few days of being shut in except for me shoveling and starting
the car. Oh, and walking Harold; we only missed one day of that, Tuesday, when
the cold and wind were too much and he barely would go in the backyard to do
his duty.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Val has made her
first trip out of the house post-home rest after surgery today, and we’re
hoping that the rest of the items are on the upswing, So you have something to
look forward to, my next post here will detail some of the, er, astute and
heartwarming comments from a woman who shared some time in the same examining
area with Val in the emergency room. Real Hallmark stuff, believe you me.</span>
Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-89652117439366672732012-06-02T11:34:00.000-04:002012-06-02T11:34:48.335-04:00Getting My Comics Geek On...AgainI used to be a major comic book/graphic novel reader and purchaser in the late 1980s and 1990s, but parts of life, particularly the financial side, combined to eventually have me leave that behind, as much as I missed it.<br />
Among my favorite comics were/are Love and Rockets, Neat Stuff, Eightball, V for Vendetta, Sandman, Hellblazer, Dirty Plotte, Watchmen and other comics especially from labels such as Fantagraphics, Drawn and Quarterly and, in the great debate/fight, DC over Marvel. I also subscribed to the Comics Journal for years.<br />
I started taking out graphic novel collections from the Buffalo and Erie County Public Libraries about two years ago, namely from my home library, the Crane Branch on Elmwood Avenue, and the downtown main branch, catching up on some Sandman I had missed as well as some other collections of authors and comics I had not previously experienced.<br />
But I really started on this again about a month or so ago, when I checked out two Love and Rockets hardbound collections, one of new comics that came out in 2009, I think, and another of some older material that I had some of but had missed some.<br />
Between weekends and my mother Sheila's doctors' appointments, I read through these fast, and while I have enough reading material otherwise (currently working on Steven Jobs' biography at work and "The Brethren" by Bob Woodward and Scott Armstrong at home), I have really started to dig into some graphic novels.<br />
I am just starting "Footnotes in Gaza" by Joe Sacco; Sacco is an artist I have enjoyed for years and also read his graphic comic "The Fixer" in about two sittings a few weeks ago. His portrayals of life on many levels amid war and all kinds of struggle is gripping. I also read Joe Matt's "Spent," about as open a book on a man's obsessions, sexuality and art as you will find, as well as a couple of great collections I had missed, the 1995 edition of "World War 3 Illustrated," and a "Drawn and Quarterly" collection from 2004.<br />
I will continue to read more of this material, with joy, glee and anger, and I may even have to visit my old haunt, Queen City Comics, someday soon. Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-34357063967104848592012-05-28T15:00:00.001-04:002012-05-28T15:00:16.937-04:00We Want the Airwaves...BelatedlySince procrastination seems to be the undercurrent of this blog, I figured now was a good time to publish my playlist from my April 20 air shift as part of the alumni weekend for WBNY 91.3 FM at Buffalo State College, now know as "Death or Glory" (two hours never seems to be long enough; damn the weekend becoming so popular).<br />
As usual, the music focused on local original music, punk and closely related styles and alt-country/roots rock, and here is the list:<br />
8 p.m. - The Clash, "Death or Glory;" Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros, "Johnny Appleseed;" Cheap Trick, "Hello There;" Graham Parker and the Rumour, "Discovering Japan;" Gang of Four, "Not Great Men;" Television, "See No Evil;" the Ramones, "Rockaway Beach;" Dark Marbles, "That's the Way It Should Be;" Michael Oliver and the Sacred Band, "Picture This;" Mark Freeland, "My Baby Got a Thing for Me;" Buddy Miller, "Midnight and Lonesome;" Linda McRae, "Higher Ground;" the Blasters, "Border Radio."<br />
9 p.m. - The Ramrods, "While the City Sleeps;" Cathy Carfagna, "I'm Going Down to Memphis;" Davy and the Crocketts, "Turn Your Back;" Simple Minds, "Promised You a Miracle;" Roxy Music, "Do the Strand;" Patti Smith Group, "Till Victory;" Alison Pipitone Band, "Crocodile Tears;" Oui73, "Drag the Lake;" Scott Carpenter and the Real McCoys, "Sally Lou;" the Pretenders, "Tattooed Love Boys;" Tom Waits, "Jockey Full of Bourbon;" Lucinda Williams, "Something About What Happens When We Talk;" Jim Whitford, "Poison in the Well;" Husker Du, "Turn on the News."<br />
WBNY 91.3 FM will be celebrating its 30th anniversary with another reunion of us well-worn but vital alumni, and rumor has it that we may get 3-hour shifts, which would be a lot of fun (if still less than the 4-hour shift I was fortunate to have to when I was a wee student at Buffalo State). Thanks as usual go to Andrew Kat, WBNY Alumni Association President, for all of the work he put into this great event, as well as the station leadership.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-74022436168370333492012-03-18T22:26:00.003-04:002012-03-18T22:30:04.555-04:00Another Serious Delay and GoodbyeAs I was trying to get some ideas into blog format, Val and I were hit with an even tougher situation than the previous bad health events.<br />Our beloved dog, Walker Evans Dunne Hosey, who has fought cancer for most of the last year, finally gave in to the age, cancer, arthritis and other health problems, and died last weekend.<br />I have been working on a proper piece on our friend and family member to try to honor all of the love, friendship and protection he gave us, and will have that here soon.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-52042226718505762432012-03-05T07:08:00.002-05:002012-03-05T07:11:03.937-05:00Oh, Delays, Delays...My restarting of this blog hit a bump in the road of sorts; I was knocked out of commission with bronchitis while Val recovered from pneumonia. I missed a week of work but was back as of last week, and I am feeling much better.<br />I have a few ideas for blog posts, and if my memory cooperates with me, I will write them up here in the next day or so. Thanks for all of your well wishes.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-13920273895114128592012-02-20T12:12:00.003-05:002012-02-20T13:02:44.948-05:00More of Dad's Musical Delights, Part OneI am sorting through two boxes of my late father Edward's music collection, something I had been doing and reporting here for a while when we were selling my mother Sheila's house, but I got a bit behind.<br />Today, I moved from downstairs to upstairs two boxes I barely looked through, and the fun continues. One box is just that, a basic cardboard box for a Black and Decker TRO-400 toaster oven, the other a fake leather bound case with a 6-8-inch G clef on the front.<br />Let's get into the cardboard box first; it has seven cases/holders of records with cardboard "pages," most collections of multi-part recordings. But not the first one, of course, which is a large, dark brown holder with "Brunswick" embossed on the front and the letter "A" and a loop for a finger to pull the book out of a shelf on the spine.<br />Inside are nine records from various artists: Rudy Vallee and His Connecticut Yankees, Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians (the only actual Brunswick recording here), the classic Alma Gluck, Jan Garber and His Orchestra, Bing Crosby and Xavier Cugat, Carl T. Sprague, Ray Noble and His Orchestra, Amelita Galli-Curci and Jussi Bjorling with orchestra.<br />Of the other collections, one is empty, and the others include: Andre Kostelanetz conducting the Robin Hood Dell Orchestra performing Ravel's "Bolero" (Columbia Masterworks MX 257), Serge Koussevitzky conducting the Boston Symphony Orchestra performing Prokofieff's "Peter and the Wolf (Opus 67)" (Victor DM 566), and Herbert Marshall with Joan Lorring and cast performing "The Snow Goose" (Decca DM 386).<br />The two final collections are labeled one thing on the covers, but contain different music. One says it is "Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor," Sergei Rachmaninoff with Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra (Victor DM 58), with a really cool photo of two hands reaching for a keyboard. The records inside is classical recordings by Arthur Fielder and the Boston Pops Orchestra, Jose Iturbi, the Band of His Majesty's Coldstream Guards, and the National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Hans Kindler.<br />The last book in the box is labeled "Album of Strauss Waltzes (Boston Pops Orchestra)" (Victor DM 445), conducted by Arthur Fielder, but inside the recordings, along with Fiedler and the Boston Pops, are Alexander Brailowsky pianist with orchestra, the Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra of New York conducted by Arturo Toscanini performing "Barber of Seville," violinist Fritz Kreisler with pianist Carl Lamson, and tenor Richard Crooks with orchestra.<br />I will save the large brown music G clef box for another post.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-5782665878941861122012-02-20T11:37:00.002-05:002012-02-20T11:43:55.487-05:00Umm, Miss Me?Wow, it's been almost two months since I posted here, and I am very, very sorry to all of my readers for the absence.<br />So, has anything happened in the meantime? Well, I am back at my old job as Director of Communications for the Erie County Legislature (more than a month) and Val has been in the hospital and is back home.<br />I am thrilled to be back to work and in the position I formerly held with a group of great colleagues and legislators moving forward, but I will continue my approach of not discussing work here.<br />Val was having a multiple sclerosis attack which was made much worse by coming down with pneumonia, but after four days in the hospital, she came home Wednesday afternoon and is doing better bit by bit, day by day, but she still needs to watch her strength.<br />I have more things to catch up on, probably starting today, so let's hope we stay in touch a bit more; I'll do better at that now.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-54715305045395857622011-12-25T12:28:00.002-05:002011-12-25T12:35:44.530-05:00All Is Quiet on Christmas DayWalker Evans and I just completed our Christmas neighborhood walk, including a stretch of the normally very busy Elmwood Avenue.<br />Only three business out of the more than 20 we passed by were open; the Sunoco station/mini mart at Elmwood and Hodge, and the Tokyo Shango Bistro and Peking Chinese restaurants, both on Elmwood Avenue between West Utica and Hodge.<br />Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everybody.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-11598053990126032662011-12-18T22:19:00.002-05:002011-12-18T22:24:41.606-05:00Who Do I Turn To?It's been a difficult week or so, beyond the usual financial and other problems, with a disorienting call form my mother Sheila today a real tough one.<br />So, I normally turn to my loving wife, Val, and dog Walker Evans, for support, love and discussion. Sadly, both Val and Walker Evans are sick and sleeping/resting; Val has been voiceless for the better part of the last 48 hours.<br />As I write this, I realize that this is both an exercise in rhetoric and probably a self-pity session that should end now, but the laundry isn't going to engage me in discussion, so...Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-68161660199863150912011-12-14T21:46:00.003-05:002011-12-14T21:53:01.188-05:00Um, Who?Like most people, Val and I receive a lot of donation solicitations through the mail, as well as online. Due to our continued tenuous financial state, we cannot really make any at this time, worthy or not.<br />But at least we get an occasional laugh. Tuesday, we received two solicitations for donations in the mail from the same place, St. John's-Grace Church on Colonial Circle in Buffalo, seeking National Register of Historic Places inclusion.<br />Both are addressed to the same "couple," Valerie & Hosey Dunne. Seems like they are paying both too much and not enough attention to Val and I referring to our house as the Dunne-Hosey Estates.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-69675256403812285982011-12-12T16:54:00.003-05:002011-12-12T17:11:23.690-05:00My Reading ListMy lovely wife Val often comments, sometimes strongly, on the books I read, calling them my "happy books."<br />I have always been a nonfiction book fan more than fiction, not because I dislike fiction (Joseph Conrad, Ernest Hemingway, George Orwell and Henrik Ibsen are among my favorites), but because I am a major history fan. I am intrigued and fascinated with what people do to other people, what they create and why, in the macro and micro.<br />To give you examples, the book I just finished reading was "Harvest of Despair: Life and Death in Ukraine Under Nazi Rule," by Karel C. Berkhoff, and I am currently reading "Bloody Sunday: Massacre in Northern Ireland, the Eyewitness Accounts," by Don Mullan.<br />Before these two books, I read a work of fiction, "Celebration," by Harry Crews, which was OK but rather predictable.<br />It's not that I do not enjoy fiction, as the authors I listed above show, but for me, with so many factual, historical events having occurred that I know little or nothing about, and my need for not only detail but analysis, I seek out this route to reality first.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-4094980007477100732011-12-12T12:52:00.003-05:002011-12-12T13:25:54.504-05:00Yikes; I'm Still HereI truly apologize to you fine readers for the lack of commentary over the last month or so; I had to look at the date of my last entry to realize how long it has been since I last wrote here.<br />Due to political campaigning (mostly successful) and a few other activities, I haven't been as good at updating this blog as I should, and starting today, I have several entries to write. I thank you all for sticking with me.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-38883519187052302942011-11-15T10:51:00.003-05:002011-11-15T11:02:35.519-05:00If You Haven't Got a Ha'Penny...When Walker Evans and I visit the area around Women's and Children's Hospital of Buffalo, surrounded by Elmwood Avenue, Hodge Avenue, Delaware Avenue and Bryant Street, it is usually between 8-9 a.m.<br />This means that we get to see the daily Parking Maneuver Olympics and Exhibition, as vehicles try to find free on-street parking while the occupants attend to various business or relatives' treatment at the hospital. This is in addition to residents parking on one side of the street, as city laws allow.<br />What amazes me is to see vehicles such as Cadillac Escalades, Lexuses and other high-priced vehicles attempting to dart into rarely vacated parking spaces, and sometimes circling the neighborhood doing this. All of this happens while there is a large, multistory parking ramp with entrances on Hodge, Elmwood and West Utica Street, with the maximum daily charge of $3.75, as well as designated, permit-only lots for at least some doctors.<br />It has gotten so bad that several residents along these streets stand outside or at their windows to make sure no one parks across their driveway entrances.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-57050662595895528002011-10-29T15:49:00.003-04:002011-10-29T16:03:40.925-04:00Do You Like Gladiator Movies?During today's walk, at about 2 p.m., Walker Evans and I crossed Richmond Avenue at Summer Street.<br />As we started to head down Little Summer Street, as this block is called due to the jockey cottages on it, a bit of color across the street caught my eye. When I looked, I saw a man in a red gladiator outfit (costume, I assume); a red flowing cape/tunic, brown leather/fake leather skirt/shorts, gold helmet and sandals. Yes, nothing else; it seems this gladiator wanted to show off how ripped he was, and indeed, this guy, about age 25-30, was in great shape.<br />I gave the guy a thumbs-up sign and shouted, "Brave costume for this weather (the temperature was 40 degrees)." He waved, laughed and replied, "Great weather for this costume," and walked down Richmond Avenue toward downtown.<br />Sorry, Matt Locker, but I didn't have a camera with me.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17385788.post-54086937725552587472011-10-27T12:55:00.003-04:002011-10-27T13:06:19.951-04:00Random Music Selection<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBCgBODqWBH2H3cE1U6IPepuT0ZHxyQfBCT95d2ZuJ8b17wpyyXE2CUrWlSSsBp5Py32UWwCHtHe3c_jTD7BIpvNCPuBUTQ4S5ZMyCQdpRlzZBXqtE6brXKmAT8HEGtoeRRw/s1600/pegomyheart.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 87px; height: 87px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBCgBODqWBH2H3cE1U6IPepuT0ZHxyQfBCT95d2ZuJ8b17wpyyXE2CUrWlSSsBp5Py32UWwCHtHe3c_jTD7BIpvNCPuBUTQ4S5ZMyCQdpRlzZBXqtE6brXKmAT8HEGtoeRRw/s200/pegomyheart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668218891936607314" border="0" /></a>To illustrate how interesting it is to delve into my late father Edward's record collection, I thought I'd reach in and describe one.<br />Well, here is what I came up with today: "Peg O' My Heart," b/w "Moonlight Bay," by Glen Miller and His Orchestra, Decca 25075. Side one is described as an "instrumental fox trot," side two a "fox trot with vocal." My mother Sheila once tried to teach me to fox trot for a high school dance in 1975; not exactly a success.Kevin J. Hoseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16237600081433004831noreply@blogger.com1