The end of a tradition
Remember Otto, the elderly accordionist from the old country who has been supplying me with spicy beer sausage for years? My kids and I were sad to learn yesterday that he died. Here’s a nice tribute in our local paper. And here’s hoping that his son, or someone else, carries on his fine tradition. (‘Cause I don’t know where else to get that spicy beer sausage.)
By the way, about 10 years ago I was directing a play called “Grandma’s Christmas Goulash,” by David Vegh. One of the actors, Richard Ruyle, wanted to know how to do a Hungarian accent. Of course, I sent him to do some shopping at Otto’s Deli. Next rehearsal, Rich showed up with that accent perfected. (But no spicy beer sausage.)