May 4th, 2026

Good morning friends,

     On Thursday, April 30th (which, of course, was Julie’s birthday), we boarded a plane for Detroit and then to Houston, Texas, for a very special event. When I began college in 1965, the very first class I went to was 101 English with Professor H. Wendell Howard. He was a bombastic man who was always belting out lines of poetry by John Donne and Milton. There was one student who really stood out as having an advanced command of English literature and language—enough to even challenge Mr. Howard at times! He was a novitiate (a priest in training) in the order of St. Basil. He was a bit aloof, but his breadth of knowledge put him in a category by himself. His name was Edward Baenziger—but to me, he became just Teddy. As our college experience progressed, our friendship grew to the point that I started living at the “House of Studies," where the other "priests to be" resided. It was with absolute glee that my mom and grandmother made a HUGE manicotti dinner for all of the resident priests as well as those studying for the priesthood. Of course, I knew in the back of my mind that they were hoping I would sign up—but the priestly life was not for me. I remember asking Teddy how he could turn his back on all of the pleasures of the world, and he simply told me, "I choose my frustrations rather than have them confront me!"

   Over the course of the past 50 years, our friendship has woven in and out. We had lost touch for quite a few years, and then, in the early ‘90s, someone told me that he was living in France, giving tours of the cathedral of Notre Dame. They had his telephone number, so I picked up the phone and called him and said, "Teddy, I’m coming to Paris! And that began a series of European adventures. We did car trips around Switzerland, Germany, Liechtenstein, Holland, Luxembourg, Belgium, and, with Julie included, all the way across France from the Alsace to Chartes with lots of time in Paris, which he knows like a native. 

    So a friendship was built that has stood the test of time. Fifty years ago, I attended Ted’s ordination into the priesthood, in his home city of Detroit.  This past weekend, Julie and I  were there to celebrate his 50th anniversary of priestly life. Today, Father Ted is still working at 80 years old. He heads up a French speaking Parish and is quite a fixture, as I understand it, on the campus of St. Thomas. He still smokes cigarettes, grows orchids, knits and has a fondness for classical music… and the word on the street is that he’s headed to Paris in June. 

   Of course, while we were in Houston, we had to look up our old friends, the Pllanas, and that is a story in itself. Twenty-seven years ago, when we lived on East Avenue in Rochester across from Saint Paul’s Episcopal Church, there was a family that was housed there who were refugees. I met the father while taking Grace to the playground one day and we started up a conversation. He was from Kosovo and he had left there with his family with the ethnic fighting began. He told me that he gotten the family in the car and, as he drove away, he could see his house burning in the rear view mirror. They drove to the border of Romania where they were allowed to enter, but they took his car as a Fee. His family was put in a refugee camp and there they resided for several months. At one point, someone tapped him on the shoulder and told him that if he got his family together and they got in this next plane. They would be able to go to America. They landed in America, mother father and four children with nothing but the washcloth and a toothbrush that they had been given on the plane. They were faced with a long task of rebuilding their lives.

  Over the course of time our families became intermingled. Their son, Mentor, worked with my son Jay tinting windows, their daughter Dafina babysat for our 2 year old, Grace. Mirela, the youngest, became our daughter Rose’s best friend (they were even in each other’s weddings). When September 11 happened we got together and wept and prayed. I remember the father, Behlul telling me that this is what they ran away from…. this kind of fighting and destruction and he couldn’t believe that it happened on American soil. Eventually, we helped Behlul purchase a house that belonged to Julie‘s cousin and they raised their family. Several years ago the family moved to Houston,Texas and we had lost touch.  On Saturday, we had such a wonderful reunion with Mirela, husband Isa and 3 children including one-month old daughter, Siena. Older sister, Dafina, also joined us. She is a teacher with two young ones in middle school. Isa runs a successful restaurant called "Good Times" where we all met for lunch211. Behlul is spending a lot of time in the old country …which I can certainly relate to. I am blessed to know them. 

    I would be remiss if I did not comment on the city of Houston itself. I must say I hadn’t been there in 25 years and I was duly impressed. It is like a spaceship… futuristic in design with of landscape of people from every nation, color, creed, language and opinion. And they were all together enjoying the beautiful system of parks that is centered around the “Museum District". I give it an A+ and I’d like to return.

With peace,

John Bernunzio 

PS We packed away the suitcases and put off any more travel plans for a while. It’s just nice to be home here and not have to think about where I’m going to be next….and Penn Yan is the perfect place to do it.

JB

It had been very hot and humid in Houston the week before we got here and then on the day of the event, it poured like I’ve never seen, and there was flooding in the streets. The next day it was back to sunshine

On that rainy Friday during the day Julie and I decided to go to the Houston Museum of Fine Arts and we were not disappointed. It is a vast complex of several buildings connected by underground tunnels.

The Houston Museum of Fine Arts also displayed great deal of work by Lewis Comfort Tiffany, including this panel of stained glass. Of interesting note, it said that Tiffany attended an 1867 arts council in Paris, where Japanese artisans first interacted with western artists. It is thought that Tiffany borrowed many of the concepts that he saw in the Japanese works of art.

The main exhibit at the HMFA was devoted to Frida Kahlo’s life and legacy, Frida: The Making of an Icon premiered at the MFAH in January 2026. This monumental exhibition features more than 30 works by the legendary Mexican artist and 120 by five generations of artists she inspired. It was breathtaking.

Dafina and her sister, Mirela Pllana Losaj with her newest baby.

so long, Sam Houston!