Fooled by the weather report forecasting rain, the organizers for the Centennial Pet Fashion Show moved the event from the Recreation Center to Centennial Hall. When Sonia and I arrived, amid much barking and tail-wagging, some 39 pets were strutting their stuff dressed in some outrageous outfits.

It was an uproarious afternoon as the pets were paraded on stage to model their wardrobe before the appreciative audience who clapped deliriously at the perfectly ridiculous spectacle. What good, clean fun!

We could not have put on this show without the help of Susan Walsh and all the volunteers from village hall and beyond. In the midst of directing all her four-legged friends, Kathy Grasman of Jo-Mar Grooming was beaming with a smile as wide and warm as a morning sunrise. Meanwhile, our judges Anna McCarthy and Ruth Delaney treated the show with complete sincerity, judging it with all the seriousness of a Miss Universe pageant.

We had been encouraged to enter Nino, our mini pin, into the contest. It would have been a blast for sure, since Sonia revels in the idea of bedecking our dog in the latest fashions. But Nino, an unabashed nudist, is affronted by the indignity of such apparel, preferring to show off his princely wares unadorned and in the buff. The other dogs, I noted, merely sniffed at his absence.

There were canines yapping everywhere but only one representative from the feline faction, Clementine, entered the contest. My darling Clementine, as I affectionately dubbed her, must have felt like General Custer when he rode into the Valley of the Little Big Horn surrounded by hostiles. Yet with an air of contemptuous indifference, Clementine betrayed not an inkling of consternation over being encircled by the clamoring, mouth-watering hounds. Of course, she won the prize for "most outstanding cat" but for my money she should have also won for the most courageous four-legged critter since Rin Tin Tin.

As Tom Hayden ceremoniously announced the winners, I was invited to pose with a Bull Dog named Max, who won most original costume. With his enormous face protruding incongruously from his costume, Max's get-up was a clear favorite with judges and spectators alike. Now I love dogs so I pounced triumphantly up on the stage kneeling down to put my arms affectionately around Max's thick neck. Unfortunately, I soon realized that the feeling was not mutual. Max was in no mood to get up close and personal with the mayor as a low, deep, sustained baritone growl made unmistakably clear. I immediately took the not so subtle hint and released my grip of good old Max and took a more upright position still smiling for the flashing cameras.

Wounded by Max's blatant unsociability, I could have assuaged my hurt feelings by the mere fact that while Max certainly dressed well, he did not, after all, win "Most Well Mannered" dog. But, always the realist, I saw Max's animosity as more depressing evidence that in my business friends come and go but enemies accumulate.

The real purpose of the Centennial Pet Fashion Show is obviously not about pets. It's about people. It's about a community coming together, enjoying themselves and one another while working together toward a common cause.

As more Centennial events are celebrated, I would encourage our young people to catch the flavor of the community spirit electrifying their village.

It is natural for our teenagers to think that all the excitement is happening elsewhere when it is really right at their doorstep. To see Floral Park as wooden, staid, unchanging and unexalted is not to see it at all. Our village is alive and vibrant swimming with energy and gusto. Don't miss it.

I was feeling awful. Wracked by an incessant cough, clogged sinuses and an upset stomach. But enough - I don't want to sound like an advertisement for an Alka Seltzer commercial. But then again, I was scheduled to present a village proclamation for an Eagle Scout award and for any other event I would have sent my regrets. As mayor, I've never missed one and would not, short of contracting the plague, miss this one. Though never a Scout myself I revere the tradition of the Boy Scouts and see the tenets of their organization as dear and vital to the American character.

In a culture that is often self-mocking, coarse and self-indulgent, the Boy Scouts of America stands like a beacon in the night proclaiming that our lives are to be honorably lived and nobly spent. Scouting teaches obedience to God, love of country and faithfulness to its ideals of honesty, loyalty, courage and duty. Others say this is a narrow and cramped philosophy but it is just the opposite. For within its confines, almost paradoxically, are the seeds for the liberation of the human spirit.

It is a spirit that flowers in our Eagle Scouts and it was no different for Floral Park's new Eagle Scout, Terrence Christman, who constructed a 350' stone wall enclosing the children's garden at beautiful Centennial Gardens. When one views the scope of this ambitious project, it is truly a monumental achievement.

Cicero once noted that the best armor of old age is a young life well spent in the practice and exercise of virtuous deeds. Virtuous deeds is what the Boy Scouts of America is all about and in achieving its highest rank Terrence Christman has not only made the Scouting fraternity and his family proud, but also his community who enthusiastically joins in the plaudits for this young man and his many accomplishments. Congratulations Terrence.

There are losses to a community that are so telling and noteworthy that the very act of depopulation becomes stirringly and poignantly real. With a gentle spirit they served our village in many ways, but always without fanfare or propaganda.

Joe Quaderer found his vocation as a New York City fireman and branched out to join Floral Park's Reliance Company in 1952. On his 50th anniversary in 2002, the title of honorary chief was bestowed in his honor. As an 83-year resident of Floral Park, Joe and his late, beloved wife, Rose, were active in civic associations and countless activities in village life.

Along with the Fire Department, the Boy Scouts of America was dear to Joe's heart. He joined back in 1930 and ever since Scouting has been an integral part of his life. Joe, who was kind, decent and giving proved to be a wonderful Scoutmaster who relished the task of molding boys into honorable manhood.

The last two or so years were rough on Joe. Losing Rose and enfeebled by age life began to weigh heavily on him. But whenever I would see him, his face would light up and he would grab my arm and whisper "my mayor." Neither adversity nor heartache could subdue the sweetness of the man.

Rich Biggin, who was born in Floral Park, was a generation younger than Joe Quaderer but was cut from the same cloth. An engaging individual, rich in personality he conversed with such congeniality and wit that upon meeting him for the first time one felt as if they had stumbled upon a charming old friend.

I had a personal connection with Rich. In that eight years before I had become the mayor I had bought his Uncle Joe's house. Some years earlier Steve Corbett, who would also become mayor, had bought the house Rich had grown up in on Verbena Avenue. Rich and his wife, Kathleen, would later joke that anyone who wanted to become mayor would have to first buy their house.

In the 1960s Rich had worked as a steel worker during the construction of the Verrazano Bridge, one of the architectural wonders of the 20th century. The span of the Verrazano was so great that in building it the engineers had to take into account the curvature of the Earth. Rich would go on to build even greater bridges here in Floral Park.

Long active in fraternal, religious and civic organizations, building pathways to others became a way of life. He was a Past Grand Knight of the Floral Park Knights of Columbus, president of the Saint Vincent DePaul Society of Our Lady of Victory, chairman of Floral Park 75th Anniversary Committee and a coach of the CYO basketball teams.

Most recently, he was the Journal chairman for the Village's 100th Anniversary Committee. Struggling with a dreadful disease, he worked daily on making it a success. He was elated when the $20,000 subscription mark was surpassed and though he knew his condition was terminal he wanted to live long enough to see the Centennial Ball where the journal would be presented. For Rich it was never about him but always the cause that mattered most.

There is a peculiar branch of philosophy that argues life is spiritually empty, that the universe is deaf to human concerns and that we live our lives out in a meaningless struggle where nothing is really accomplished, waiting only despondently for the end. What a radically different notion from the lives of our neighbors Joe and Rich who saw a much clearer and better way to live. They saw their life as a gift for touching other lives, of helping others, of making a difference for the better. Life is mortal, sure, and each is allotted their season in this world. But it is this impermanence that spurs us on to achievement and to engage our passions profitably to do the good that needs to be done in the great moral drama of life. Joe Quaderer and Rich Biggin's life mattered because by their deeds they made it matter to us; requiescat in pace.