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 their winters.

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, 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 counting.

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 there.

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 refused.

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 240 pounds.

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 fine.

They were refused, and the goat remained earthbound.

Tool time

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."

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