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7.27.02 Visit from Manhattan

Last weekend Fugai and Troutman visited us from Manhattan. It's something like 20 years that Troutman has been here and Fugai always seems to visit when Rochester is at its most miserable.

Rochester has a grim in-spite-of-itself pride in its bad weather. Maybe it's a need to be record-setting tough because we have no major league sports, I don't know. Maybe we're just in love with our 4-wheel drives and down jackets.

But Fugai and Troutman finally made their pilgrimage and, for a change, Rochester wore flowers in her hair.

Out the back door of our townhouse, we have a small deck facing the woods. It's big enough for a glass-top table, a gas grill and 4 plastic chairs. Through the eyes of Manhattan this essence of suburbia became my country estate. We drank margaritas. We grilled chicken and barbequed pork steaks in classic red sauce. We walked to the farmer's market and bought corn on the cob, cantaloupe, peaches, apricots, and raspberries enough to devour a box and a half of them on the walk home.

I always think of Manhattan as a cornucopia of everything wonderful but apparently fresh-picked produce within walking distance isn't one of them.

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