Sights and sounds of the weekend: vintage shops and flea market

Drexel Hill, Pa.:

Somerville, NJ:

A mecca in the old Woolworth's. Better still, there's a rival shop across the street.

On pedestrians-only Division Street, Incogneeto, or as I call it, Gimbels 50 years ago.

The difference between me and them is for me it's not kitsch.

Our Lady of Good Counsel Church, Moorestown, NJ.

A flea-market Sunday. The good thing about Pope Benedict's Novus Ordo at my parish is it's still my parish: organ prelude and postlude, Anglican hymns for the processional, offertory, and recessional, white-gloved altar boys ringing sanctus bells in stereo, and the altar rail in use.

Broomall, Pa.

Delaware County Community College:

Beware the left's nostalgia. What a horrible character.

Max the German shepherd. My dad growing up in the '30s had a dog like him as a protector, Rex.

It's almost a law: you must give a dog like that a one-syllable name like Duke.

I understand they're almost as smart as we are.

Oh, boyohboyohboy. Dogs are so demonstrative.

For the Indian wannabe or would-be Buddhist on your list.

We weren't CBers but this brings back a fun memory.

The curé style for priests. Catholicism East and West: come for the faith, stay for the hats.

A ramble: my black fedora (like a priest's) has a story. Found it in a Runnemede, NJ antiques shop: a life-size figure of Frank Sinatra was holding it out to me. It fits perfectly.

Road warrior: '48 Plymouth, really the last model year of the beautiful cars of the '40s (design was static because of the war), as '49 was a complete redesign with unibody cars, arguably the first '50s cars.

A little book full of still useful facts including an atlas.

Hamilton ashtray. Now Toucan Sam and his mate are the symbols of good fortune, guarding my change.

The little '58 Chevy's from Wildwood.
Gripe: had to get new speakers and found them packed in a hard clear plastic chrysalis I cut myself trying to open. Maybe styrofoam is out among the politically correct but you'd think the leftist poseurs in big business wouldn't waste so many resources on packaging. (Conservation and stewardship of God's creation are of course good. I avoid using plastic bags.) Not when their sound system's at stake, I guess. Rather like swipples hate corporations except the ones that make things they like. Anyway, the speakers work great: playing Mel Tormé perfectly.