Back at the Old Pizza Stand

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In the opening scene of 1962’s The Music Man, Harold Hill, con man extraordinaire, unexpectedly bumps into his old friend and accomplice Marcellus Washburn. Marcellus has since married a “nice comfortable girl” and settled down in the idyllic Midwestern town of River City (“Gone legitimate, huh? I knew you’d come to no good,” laments Hill). When he asks Harold if he’s still pitching steam automobiles, Hill shakes his head “No” and says, “I’m back at the old stand” whereupon he pantomimes conducting a band.

I can’t say Hamburg had the stubbornness of River City, Iowa, (after all, Hamburg is the “Town that Friendship built”), but I can attest to an idyllic feeling growing up off South Park when it had only two lanes. And like the magical concluding scene of The Music Man, my brother and I (and maybe even my mother and father, too), couldn’t wait to Continue Reading “Back at the Old Pizza Stand”

White Cream Donuts

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[This Commentary originally appeared in the November 8, 1990 issue of The Mendon-Honeoye Falls-Lima Sentinel.]

CarosaCommentaryNewLogo_259To the world: I apologize. I confess to a vice of unimaginable corruption. I am truly sorry. In my regret, I confront a life-long affliction – my passionate ardor for… white cream donuts.

It began as a child. On bright sunny Sundays, my parents would take me, my brother and my sisters to the donut shop after church. As soon as my father parked the car, we would joyfully yank open the doors and leap out into the modest bakery. Inside, our nostrils filled with the warm sweet smell of freshly made donuts. We had Continue Reading “White Cream Donuts”