One of retail travel's best-known couples marked a milestone.
Bernice and Marvin Rosmarin of Stratton Travel in New Jersey
celebrated their golden wedding anniversary in January.
Fifty years ago, they discovered each other at Orchard Beach in
the Bronx. Bernice says she and her friends watched as Marvin and
his friends cavorted on the sand. Somehow Marvin ended up on
Bernice's beach blanket, and the rest is history.
After owning their own agency in central New Jersey for a long
time, Bernice, a former ASTA officer, and Marvin are still at it
with Stratton Travel, but they're going back to the beach. This
time, it's a South Florida beach, where they'll be spending part of
Every inch a king
Whether it has anything to do with the turn of the century, we
don't know. But lately, traditions seem to be falling like stars in
an Arctic sky.
Most recently we've heard that King Momo, the traditionally
oversize grand marshal of Carnival in Rio, has not only been on a
diet but has undergone stomach-reduction surgery.
King Momos throughout Brazil are chosen on the basis of their
girth, combined with the agility required to samba, samba,
The current king, 27-year-old Alex Oliveira, who has served in
the office since the death of his predecessor by heart attack in
1995, has slimmed down from last year's 425 pounds to 398 and
Oliveira also was prompted to change his ways following the
death by heart attack of a King Momo in Taqari, in southern Brazil,
while doing the samba during last year's Lenten celebration
The king's new regimen can be seen only as a benefit to
Oliveira, who, nonetheless, told the Brazilian newspaper O Globo
that prior to agreeing to the diet and the surgery, he'd pleaded
with his doctor to let him keep on the weight but had been
Oliveira should have nothing to worry about. He's described as
wildly popular in Rio, has been elected to the post by wide margins
the past couple of years and still is well over Carnival's official
minimum weight requirement for its king, 110 kilograms, or about
When goats fly
We heard of yet another tradition, one whose demise we can
imagine being lamented only by locals.
For about the past 100 years, villagers in the northern Spanish
town of Manganeses de la Polvorosa celebrated their annual feast
day by hurling a goat from the belfry of the church to the plaza
some 50 feet below.
(According to animal-rights activists, sometimes the goat
survived, sometimes not.)
The governor of Zamora province actually outlawed the ritual in
1992, but villagers reacted so violently to the ban that local
police were loath to enforce the law. This year, however,
authorities promised they would levy fines of about $15,000 on
anyone participating in the goat toss.
When the feast day arrived in January, some youths led a goat to
the church door and exhorted the crowd to chip in and pay their
They were refused, and the goat remained earthbound.
Following is a swatch of press-release copy having to do with
the Lewis and Clark Festival to be held in Great Falls, Mont., June
22 to 25.
Something tells us it was written by a man:
"The expedition's camp is re-created, and actors in historic
dress talk of their four-year journey, their experiences, their
view of the world and their tools."