Vowing not to leave the house this past weekend after several near-brushes with death via heat-related decapitation (a real medical condition, so I hear), I didn’t get to see the Buddy Movie at the Columbus. Tsk, bad Bil. Instead, as I sit here wearing my Free Buddy shirt (really!), I have but a link or two and an interesting aside.

First, the ProJo stories (and the other), then Sheila Lennon’s personal experience. Now I’m really sad I missed it, since no one seems to know when we’ll get another chance to see it.

One person who did see it, though, was my aunt Marina, who wisely arrived 45 minutes early for the 10am Sunday show and nabbed a seat to the hottest movie ticket in town. Afterwards, she called me excitedly because, as I understand it, a clip from the garbage workers’ strike era featured her mom, my wonderful Nana, quite prominently. Nana, as anyone who’s met her (and could decipher her words through the thick Italian accent) is one of the biggest Buddy boosters around. She’s not much for getting out to Broadway these days, but I hope she gets a chance to somehow see the film.

(In another “it’s a small state” kinda thing, the ProJo article above quotes an old co-worker of mine, Liz D’Uva. Crazy.)

So here’s hoping Cherry Arnold’s work gets picked up more widely and this Buddy watcher gets to see the flick, preferably at the Cable Car in the shadow of the (former) mayah’s Power Street (former) home.

And, to end, let me dust off a variation on this old chestnut from the days when I was accused of hating America: Buddy deserves to be exactly where he is, in federal prison. For someone who loved his town so much, he sure screwed its citizens while taking a lot of credit for things he had no hand in. Charming guy, yes, and what a character. But still a crook.

Free (the) Buddy (movie)!

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