Andrew J. Lederer

that in yesterday's tribute to the late Paul Newman, I left out what some might argue was a far more important part of Newman's life than his work in the field of processed foods.

He was, of course, an auto racer of some note.

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The Chortle blogs may be disappearing within the next few days.

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Sad. But one's work can convey not just fame in one's own lifetime but also a certain kind of immortality.

And as long as there is a jar of salad dressing or a plate of spaghetti in the world, he will be remembered.

A giant of the processed foods industry has left us.

before going to a place where I would be spending one night while momentarily exiled from my regular borrowed space. I was running low on money, though and money becomes extra-necessary when you've got to fill up time.

So, imagine how upset I was when, after spending almost £3.50(!) at McDonalds, I noticed that the neighboring multiplex was featuring -- for one night only -- an anniversary presentation of "Grease".

I had already spent much of my discretionary cash and would gladly have foregone the burgers and fries in favor of my first theatrical viewing of the Travolta/Newton-John classic, but now it seemed imprudent. Still, I entered the lobby of the theatre complex, wondering if there was some kind of discount, seeing as how it was an old film and everything.

However, before getting around to asking, I thought I'd check out the upstairs, where there was an open-to-the-public bar and, presumably, the entrance to the auditoriums.

Theatre employees were walking into the higher-numbered-screen area from a candy enclave, crossing behind the ticket-ripper as they entered. So, I entered behind her as well, first making sure she seemed relatively intent on facing away from the candy corner. (Free is the word!!!)

Unfortunately, it was about 40 minutes before the start of the film and I was afraid that if I caught some of a different movie and they saw me coming out of it, they would prevent me from entering the screening I desired (like I was trying to get an extra movie without paying or something). So I stood outside the auditoriums for more than half an hour, reading a paper and conspicuously examining the "Quantum of Solace" poster.

Finally, just before the movie was scheduled to start, I went in, took a seat and was quickly expelled by a cleaning guy. Apparently, they hadn't let anybody in for "Grease" yet.

But he didn't ask to see my ticket or question the legitimacy of my presence in the general area.

So, I got to enjoy the retro, musical reissue. -- the (very) one that I want(ed) to.

True, I'm no teen angel.

(But there are worse things I can do.)

causing a '70s-style decline of New York bubbling up about us, I have to admit I think it might save New York; I mean, physically save the city from the destructive rapacity of politicians and developers that's been destroying it.

I'm not heartless and the potential negative effects of this meltdown on individuals' day to day lives are a matter of concern to me. But architecture and the physical history of a place matter to the day to day lives of individuals too, whether prosaic types want to accept it or not.

And they matter to posterity.

And they matter to me.

So, if the greed and recklessness of the same people who have been tearing down my beautiful and historic city now serve to slow or even stop the wrecking balls, I, for one, am happy.

is listen to Rodney Bingenheimer's weekly radio show from KROQ in Los Angeles. Today, after it was done (and having realized the CBS radio player would give me access to other stations), I "tuned in" New York's beloved oldies station WCBS FM, now available via the web and not merely at laundromats and pizza places in the 5 boroughs and outlying suburbs.

They were feting summer, which will be exiting the scene in a few hours, and as part of their program of equinox-defying tunes played "See You in September", which generated in me a desire to experience the last rays of the season.

Sun was entering the house where it could. I rushed to open the door to the backyard and took a breath.

It smelled liked autumn.

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Andrew J. Lederer's blog continues at http://ajl.blogspot.com.
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