Social Commentary: Five Minutes and a Gun

The information regarding the tragic death of Trayvon Martin at the hands of George Zimmerman in Sanford, Florida is being disseminated at an alarming rate. It's been in the headlines for over a month and is nowhere near abating. We all know the basics of the events by now: The 17 year- old Martin was shot and killed by neighborhood watch volunteer Zimmerman as Martin walked home from a nearby convenience store to the house where his father was waiting for him. Zimmerman regularly patrolled the gated community where Martin was walking, looking to prevent break-ins and disturbances. Zimmerman claims that he shot the young man in self defense after a violent, physical confrontation and has not been charged with ANY crime in the incident. Martin's parents claim that Zimmerman profiled and then confronted the unarmed Martin (Zimmerman is white, Martin black), escalating the encounter to the point of violence. They also claim that Zimmerman shot their son in cold blood. Everyone agrees that the loss of this young man was a tragedy for all concerned. However, at this point, that's about all everyone agrees on.

On one side, you have the supporters of Mr. Zimmerman, who claim that he only shot Martin after Martin, according to Zimmerman's account, violently slammed his head into the ground in an attempt to kill him. They site Florida's self defense statute, one of the most liberal in the land when it comes to self-defense, as justification for the shooting. On the other side, the supporters of Mr. Martin say that the only thing that he was carrying in his hands when he was shot was a bag of Skittles and a can of iced tea. Therefore, how dangerous could he have been?

I don't know exactly what happened. Only two people know for sure and one of them is dead. The other is in hiding and not talking. Although the nature of the case has caused a great deal of controversy, most rational people realize that whatever truth there is to be found can only be done so in time and with the proper authorities investigating the case. However, there is one thing that I DO know: George Zimmerman was WRONG to have a TEC-9, the weapon he used to kill Trayvon Martin, in his car in the first place, much less on his person when he decided to pursue Martin.

First, what was Zimmerman doing in possession of a TEC-9 handgun? The TEC-9 is a 9mm semi-automatic handgun that uses a clip of anywhere from 20-72 rounds of ammunition and is designed to "spray lead" in a rapid and, somewhat, haphazard manner. It was originally designed as a military weapon. It is relatively inexpensive and fairly easy to operate. Accuracy is not a strong suit. In other words, it can spray a lot of lead in a short period of time. These attributes make it very desirable among drug dealers.

So, this begs the question; why did George Zimmerman feel it necessary to have this weapon in his possession in the first place? Remember, Zimmerman was NOT a member of any law enforcement agency, nor did he have any military experience with weapons. He was a neighborhood watch captain!! Every security expert called upon to explain what the mission of a neighborhood watch captain might be says exactly the same thing: their SOLE mission is to observe and report. Zimmerman did just that and used 911 to report that he thought that Martin was acting suspiciously. The police then informed him to take NO FURTHER ACTION i.e. your job is done. This order was ignored by Zimmerman. Obviously, at some point, Zimmerman who had been following Martin in his car, felt it necessary to leave his vehicle, WITH THE GUN, and confront Martin. Why? Was it because, with that TEC-9, he felt empowered? I'm sure that, knowing he had that weapon, he must have felt pretty secure that he could handle the situation. And this is where the gun lobby loses all credibility.

One of the favorite slogans among gun lobbyists and enthusiasts is: guns don't kill people, people do. Well, now you have a gun in the hands of someone who was, quite obviously, not in the position to handle one. And a young man paid the ultimate price for this lame philosophy with his LIFE! Florida, like most Southern states, seems to be in love with the 2nd amendment; the so-called right to bear arms. Therefore, they have some of the most liberal gun ownership laws in the country. And what do you get when you have liberal gun ownership laws? You get unqualified 28 year-old neighborhood watch captains shooting and killing 17 year-old young, black men!! Another argument used by the gun lobby is that if everyone were armed we would have a level playing field and violence would be reduced. Really? Would that philosophy have applied to this situation? Would Zimmerman have hesitated to get out of his vehicle with his weapon if he felt Martin also had one? I doubt it. I think that he would have done the same thing and Martin would have probably responded in kind with his weapon. Then you would have had lead flying all over the place with even more potentially disastrous results! And all Zimmerman had to do was wait for the police to arrive - just wait. Five minutes. Five freakin' minutes and the police would have been there and the situation would have been peaceably resolved. But, instead, filled with the false bravado embodied in a 9 mm semi-automatic ass-kicking piece of stamped metal, a young life was snuffed out and two families ruined. I so firmly believe that, without that weapon, none of this would have gone down the way that it so tragically did.

No. The answer is GUN CONTROL. We need reasonable, rational laws that protect our personal freedoms (which, as some would argue, includes the right to bear arms) and at the same time keep destructive weapons, like the TEC-9 out of the hands of people like George Zimmerman. It has recently been discovered that not only was Zimmerman not qualified to USE a handgun, he is also a convicted felon, which, in some states with SERIOUS gun control laws (like New York), would prevent him from even owning a gun!!

Come on, people! Use your heads. This is simple. If you want to prevent tragedies like this one from happening again, limit access to firearms. Let's make sure that the people who own guns are responsible enough to know their purpose - to kill. And, if you are like me, reject them all together. Any thinking, reasonable, rational human being would never consider the use of a firearm to resolve any situation. ANY.

Photo of the Day: The New American Gothic

THE NEW AMERICAN GOTHIC

Joshua and Jeremiah Alley, Rex and Bella

photo: F LoBuono

Photo of the Day: The Capitol at Night

The U.S. Capitol at night.

F LoBuono

Social Commentary: The Value of a Human Life

This was posted on the Facebook News Feed on March 16th: sick of this, a soldier who served 3 tours fighting for the freedom of afghans goes bonkers, it happens. How many americans are dead fighting for the freedom of that country! let it go and f@%$ them. (spelling and punctuation errors are theirs)

The person who posted this will not be named for many reasons, the most important of which is to protect their privacy. My intention is not to embarrass them but, rather, to call attention to what I believe is the statement's glaring insensitivity and down right dangerous pattern of thinking! And 16 people affirmed their support for that statement by indicating liked on the post. 16!!

The first thing that I noticed after reading the post was this person's FB profile photo. It was a lovely picture of a handsome couple playfully holding a doll. It might be described as idyllic. Good for them. However, for me, it provided a stark and frightening contrast to what was said in the post; f@%$ them? No - WTF?! What that soldier (who was later identified as Staff Sgt. Robert Bales) allegedly perpetrated was not war, it was murder! Now, I say this without judging Sgt. Bales. He must have been, at least at that moment, insane. Because no sane person would creep into anyone's home, drag their children from their beds and shoot them in their mouths!!! How would you feel if an "invader" (i.e. an armed man who is not of your country!) came into your home, grabbed your child and shot them in the mouth?! You would be RIGHTEOUSLY OUTRAGED, as are the Afghan people. Let it go? How do you just let something like that go? Bonkers was another word used. If it happened in America, we would be going APE SHIT!!

The statement goes on to say: How many americans are dead fighting for the freedom of that country! Although factually accurate, many Americans have died fighting there, it is also seriously flawed in philosophy. It is flawed because it implies that an AMERICAN life is more valuable than anyone else's. How many THOUSANDS of Afghans, most of them civilians, have died?! This is the height of hubris that results in a poor image of Americans when we are considered with a world view. Many people from around the world now share the sentiment of who do they think they are?! And it has left us with a lot of enemies, even where there were once some friends to be found. No, my compatriots, ALL HUMAN BEINGS are precious - the most precious commodity on earth. The sooner we think that way, and, more importantly, TREAT ALL PEOPLE that way, the sooner we will avoid horrific tragedies like the one allegedly committed by Sgt. Bales.

My posted responses did provoke some very positive messages in support of my way of thinking. In fact, the original author backtracked somewhat trying to explain that no harm was meant. And I don't believe that was the initial intention. It just seems thinking like that is somehow ingrained in our American consciousness. But it's time to change. In one response to me, the author suggested that the intention was to express empathy for the sacrifices that our troops have made on our behalf. I understood, but also suggested that if we adjusted our thinking to treat ALL human beings with respect and dignity it just might not be as necessary to put so many of our young people in harms way. The response was simple: agreed. 'Nuff said.

Brain Droppings: The "Familiar"

The term, familiar, like many words in the English language, has more than one meaning. Of course, the most common one refers to things that are easily recognizable to us, i.e. "I know him. He is familiar to me". This is the adjective. However, there is another meaning. This one is a noun and it comes to us from the mythology of the Middle Ages. In this case, familiar refers to a spirit guide, usually in the form of an animal, sent to provide us with a helping hand (or paw, or claw, or hove) in our everyday lives. According to the myth everyone has at least one familiar.

I KNOW that I have one for sure; Big Red, my ageless (17+) cat. Those of you who follow this blog know of Big Red because I have written of him often. He climbed in an open bedroom window of a long gone apartment and, despite my early efforts to get him the hell out of the place, he has been with me ever since. And he has been an inspiration to me every day of his life. He is everything that I am not: even tempered, and unflappable. He teaches me to accept life on its terms and to relish ALL things, good and bad, as part of the fabric of a life well lived. But we also share the similar traits of being very vocal (he "talks" constantly) and exceedingly good natured - he likes being with people. Still, when necessary, he (we) can be quite stoic. Simply put, he has made my life immeasurably better. Now THAT'S a Spirit Guide!

But I think that I have another, less obvious familiar. And that is the Red Tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensus). The Red Tailed Hawk is a large bird of prey and one of the most common in the US. It is also know as the Chicken Hawk, even though it rarely preys on chickens! It feeds mostly on rodents and other small mammals. They are very adaptable and their range includes a variety of habitats, including the canyons created by the skyscrapers of New York City. Many of you have probably read the exploits of NYC's most famous Red Tale, Pale Male, who resides on the ledge of one of the City's most tony residences. Quite a flap was created when the occupants of the building tried to have his nest removed from one of their balconies! Red Tales mate for life and will only seek another if their partner dies.

Perhaps, because of the very mild winter that we have had, causing an abundance of prey, I have seen them EVERYWHERE! Our backyard borders a State park with the cliffs of the Palisades as a backdrop. This, of course, is perfect habitat for them and I see (and HEAR them - SCREECH - SCREECH - SCREECH) regularly as they soar among the cliffs, usually searching for prey. I also see them interact with one another as the males perform an elaborate mid-air mating ritual that involves spectacular dives and intricate roll overs. It is awesome to watch. Considering the terrain, one would expect to see them here. However, as I said, I see them virtually EVERYWHERE. When I drive to work along the Palisades Interstate Parkway, I see them roosting in the tree tops, stoically and fiercely observing their territory. I have also had them actually swoop down in front of my car as they dive to attack prey on the grassy medium that separates the highway. Sometimes, they dive so closely to the car that I am amazed that I haven't hit one (I have a friend who actually did - scared the hell out of him and killed the hawk!). But I have also seen them in the most unlikely places as well. I see one all of the time roosting on a light post above 79th St. and the West Side Highway!

But why do I see them so regularly. My wife, Cat, is amazed that, when we drive together, suddenly, out of nowhere, I'll point and say, "look, there's a Red Tail"! Cat will say, "Really? Where? How did you see that"? I don't know how to really explain it. As a photographer, I am always observing things. That is my life. This explains part of the reason, but not the entire. They are big, but not THAT big. They are common, but not THAT common. So, why do I observe them all of the time? I don't actively think about it but, suddenly, while driving, I'll get an urge to look up - left or right - and, sure enough, there's a Red Tail to be seen. Why does this happen at that particular time and place? I believe it is because they are another of my familiars. They were sent here to guide me to a higher spiritual awareness. They are guiding me to be keen, to be aware, to be loyal, to be stoic and to be fierce about it. Their huge eyes, designed to see small things from very far away, urge me to be observant of everything around me. Their mating habits teach me to be loyal and steadfast. Their razor sharp beaks and talons encourage me to be formidable. Their unflinching gaze teaches me to see things for what they are. Their patience exemplifies stoicism. Their flight urges my heart to soar. All of these things I desire for my life and I can have them with the help of my familiar; The Red Tailed Hawk!

Look for yours. You will find them - if you open your eyes, your minds, and your hearts.

Brain Droppings: Sure Sign of Spring

Anyone who knows me personally acknowledges my love of the warm weather. It's a trait that can, at times, drive them crazy about me, too! You see, I enjoy it so much that I have a tendency to whine about it when it's not here. It leaves people asking me, "if you need the warm weather so damned much, then why don't you move to where it is warm all of the time and stop being such a douche about it"?! Well, I hear them. But it's complicated. It involves family, work, and so on. Therefore, it's a story for another day. LOL.

I love it, mostly, because it is a time of plenty. Everything is alive. Even the air is filled with a caucacophony of sound ranging from the bells of an iced cream truck to the sound of children playing to the buzz of insects going about their business. The flowers are blooming and the crops are growing. And, being swarthy (I like that word!), I adapt easily to the sun and the heat. For one thing, I usually just wear less! And, because my skin is dark and I tan easily, as long as I'm sensible about it (i.e. avoid over-exposure and use sun screen when necessary, etc.) summers present little problem for me. In fact, I get dark so quickly that it's been said that all you have to do is show me a picture of the bright sun and I start to tan.

With this in mind, I am ALWAYS anxious for the end of winter -even an incredibly mild one like the one we just experienced. Therefore, I am very attuned to the harbingers of Spring. From the swallows returning to Capistrano to the blooming of the forsythia to the running of the Shad up the Hudson River to the return of Persephone to the earth, the signs of Spring's reemergence appear every year. They are constant (whether they remain that way is, again, a story for another day) and, if you make yourself aware of them, will enrich your heart with the cycle of life so clearly presented with these most welcome signs.

There is another indicator that will always be special to me, too; the sound of Pseudacris crucifer, more commonly known as the Spring Peeper frog. If you are lucky enough to be near a swampy body of water, when the temperature heats up just enough, you can't miss their incessant calling. Even if you can't see them, you can most certainly here them. Tens of thousands of male frogs peep their little hearts out in search of mates. PEEP. PEEP. PEEP. They certainly earn their common name; the Spring Peeper. And it only lasts for a short period - just the first, few early days of Spring - and only at night - just long enough to ensure mating and the survival of the species.

There is a spot on Rte. 9W near Sparkill, NY that I pass daily on my way to and from work that traverses a small, swampy area. It's just large enough to support a thriving ecosystem that includes, of course, frogs. And most of those frogs are Spring Peepers. On warm, early Spring nights, when I'm driving home, I always make sure to slow down through that area and roll down my windows and listen for that sound: PEEP. PEEP. PEEP. Last night was one of those nights. It had been unseasonably mild and I thought that they might be there, doing their thing. So, when I approached the area and no one was on my tail, I slowed the car and rolled down the window. PEEP. PEEP. PEEP. I hoped it. No, I KNEW it! They were back. So was Spring. And, accordingly, so was my spirit!

This eternal sign of the cycle of our precious Mother Earth is renewing of mind, body, and spirit. It is the realization of the promise of the return of life itself. It has been mythologized, spritualized, and immortalized by man since the beginning of time. Call it what you will, it IS the mystery of life. And it can be expressed in the most simple of ways. All you have to do is slow done a bit and listen.

I lingered for a moment and drew a deep breath and held it as long as could, as if to preserve that precious moment, even if just for a nano-second more. I listened, too. I let the sound go all the way into my soul. Then, I moved on - can't be holding up traffic on 9W for too long! But it was enough. Connected once again to the earth, I, like her, was reborn.

Happy Birthday, Jack!

THE ONLY PEOPLE FOR ME ARE THE MAD ONES, THE ONES WHO ARE MAD TO LIVE, MAD TO TALK, DESIROUS OF EVERYTHING AT THE SAME TIME, THE ONES WHO NEVER SAY A COMMON PLACE THING BUT BURN, BURN, BURN . . .

Happy 90th Birthday Jean-Louis "Jack" Kerouac, a football playing iconoclast who burned the candle brightly - at both ends - and died at the age of 47. A cautionary tale? Perhaps. But his legacy as a truly great American writer is unquestioned. He is my hero.

Photo of the Day: A Portrait of the Artist

A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST

photo: F LoBuono

Words to Live By: Live in the Light

photo: F LoBuono

AND SO THE SUN RETURNS . . .

MAY YOU ALWAYS LIVE IN THE LIGHT

Words to Live By: Slip Kid

photo: Library of Congress Staircase. F LoBuono

Slip kid, slip kid, . . .

There's no easy way to be free

no easy way to be free

there's no easy way to be free

no easy way to be free. . .

The Who: Slip Kid

Brain Droppings: Il Siciliano

photo: The Sicilian country side near Segesta. F LoBuono

Of course, I am an American. I was born here, live here. And love being here. However, in my genes and, more importantly, in my soul, I am a Sicilian. Both sides of my family come from the island of Sicily. My father's family (the LoBuono/Ferrara's) comes from Lercare Friddi, a mid-sized village in the mountains about 30 km from Sicily's largest city, Palermo. My mother's family (the Vitanza/Celeste's) comes from San Salvatore di Fitalia, a small, charming little village in the mountains on the east coast, not far from Messina. I have actually been to San Salvatore di Fitalia, having spent a magical fiftieth birthday there in the presence of my American family (my wife, mother, sister, aunt, and uncle) AND my newly re-discovered Sicilian one.

Recently, AMC (American Movie Classics) was broadcasting The Godfather trilogy. The first two installments are considered classics of American cinema. The story of the rise and fall of a powerful Sicilian-American family is really a tale of power, greed, love, loyalty, loss, betrayal, and bravery that transcends a single culture. These are traits that are shared by ALL cultures. However, the soul of the movie is a Sicilian one. And it got me thinking: What does it REALLY mean to be Sicilian?

First, it's important that we understand of few things about Sicily's geography and history. Without exploring these first, we can never understand what makes Sicilians, well, Sicilian.

Sicily is the largest island in the Mediterranean and it's located virtually in the center of it. So, its location makes it strategically invaluable and, therefore, VERY desirable. Every ancient culture tramping around the Mediterranean couldn't help but trip over the damned place! So, forget the ancient village of Magiddo in Israel as the most conquered place on the planet - it's Sicily!! The Greeks, the Romans, the Carthaginian, the Phoenicians, the Moors, the Arabs, the Normans, the Spanish, the French, the Germans, and the Americans have all, at one time or another in history, conquered and ruled Sicily. It seems that just about everyone has ruled Sicily, except the Sicilians. This fact is often used to insult us. "You are weak". "You have no culture of your own", many would say. "Your women were raped and, so, you are all bastards", is another common insult. Because of its proximity to Africa, some will go so far as to use racial epithets with their insults. In fact, many mainland Italians don't really consider Sicily as part of Italy and that Sicilians are not REALLY Italians. And they are partially right. Because of that intense mixing of blood and cultures, the Sicilians generally look and act differently than most other Italians. We like to say that this does not make us weak but, quite to the contrary, it makes us incredibly strong! We have the blood, the wit, and the temperament of all of those races who were sturdy, bold, and adventurous enough to be there.

But there is more to it than just genetics. It is an attitude. We are survivors. We have taken everything that life can throw at a people; war, hunger, poverty, degradation, and hardship. It has made us tough and we have survived. No. We have done more than merely survived, we have THRIVED. Sicilians have maintained our own root culture through it all and still do. We are not ashamed to be called different. But you'd better not disrespect us or you will suffer the consequences! Because we have survived, because we have suffered, because it has made us tough, we feel an overwhelming need to be respected. Every Sicilian man desires to be un uomo di rispetto, or a man of respect. The term is an important one in Sicilian culture. It was used (and still is in an honorary sense) to describe a man who would have the respect and, therefore the authority, of the people within his village to make important decisions and resolve disputes. It was not an "elected" or appointed position. The constant power struggle to control the Island often left villages with voids in authority and decision making. Someone had to be in charge. A man who earned the respect of his neighbors was given that authority. This title and function eventually became perverted by organized crime (i.e. the Mafia) which, in and of itself, further plagued Sicily for years. But that's a discussion for another entry. The point is that Sicilians have had to fight for their respect against often overwhelming odds and it has made us resilient. It has also made as stubborn and, sometimes, paranoid and difficult. But that's also part of the Sicilian psyche - we are the whole package. And that fills me with a strong sense of pride.

I have to say that whenever I see The Godfather it also makes me intensely proud to be a Sicilian. No, I don't see Don Corleone (played by Marlon Brando) as a hero. He can't ultimately be seen as one. He murdered to achieve his goals. But it's not that simple. When seen in the light of a family drama and within time and context, it shines differently. He, and his extended "family", view him as some type of modern-day, feudal lord. Considering his and Sicily's history, that's not hard to imagine. He built an empire on guile, guts, and dogged determination. At one point, during the wedding scene of the Don's daughter, his son, Michael (played by Al Pacino) explains to his girlfriend, Kay, (Diane Keaton) that his father is no different than any powerful man who makes decisions that will affect many lives. And through it all, the Don does it with a sense of intergrity and misguided honesty. He will do whatever it takes to care of his family. He is not evil, per se. He is, rather, human - very human and in many ways, admirable. He is Sicilian and so am I.

When you travel to Sicily you will also feel the connection between the people and the land itself. The island is ruggedly beautiful, like its people. One of the things that you will notice immediately is that it is very mountainous. Small villages cling to the sides like Christmas tree ornaments precariously perched on the edge of a branch. Most have been there for centuries. They are constant, as are the people who live in them. And you realize that, because of the topography, for all the villages that you DO see, there are hundreds that you can't. This gives the island a sense of mystery. It leaves one wondering what lies beyond the next peak. You see some of what is offered, but also understand that there may be a lot more that is not so readily apparent. Again, this is a useful metaphor when trying to understand the Sicilian pysche. A Sicilian may show you something on the surface, but there are many layers that only exploration can uncover. Those willing to undertake that exploration will discover an island, and a people, steeped in tradition, honor, music, food, and joy as well as a broading, darker ethos.

Another way to connect with the Sicilian soul is through its folk music. You can hear it clearly in the Love Theme from The Godfather. It is a simple tune, yet, at the same time, it is very profound. It starts with a single horn playing a haunting melody. Eventually it becomes more layered as the horn is joined by other instruments like strings. But it never becomes "complex". It maintains a quiet dignity, very simple, yet, at the same time, very deep. It certainly speaks to me in a profound way and provides another glimpse into the soul of a Sicilian - mine.