The Daily Dose of Zen, TalkFrank style!

words and photo: F LoBuono

Breathtaking beauty can be found virtually anywhere, and, everywhere.  One just needs to open ones heart to see it.

This photo was made while riding my bike along the Hudson River in Haverstraw, NY on a late April day.  What makes it interesting, at least to me, is that it looks as if it were taken in some remote, pristine location.  However, it is only about 35 miles north of America's largest city and is flanked by a power generating plant and a gypsum factory!  But THIS is what makes scenes like this so special.  It could have been EASILY missed if I had chosen to focus only on the plant and the factory.  Still, they are all part of the same landscape that makes up the incredible diversity of the Hudson River.  In the end, like all things, it depends on what you choose to see, and what you choose to remember.

Reflections on 57

When I first thought about it, turning 57 seemed like it would be one of those "insignificant" birthdays.  Let's face it, there are certain numbers that just carry way more gravitas than 57 - birthdays like when you turn 18, or 21, or 30, or 50, or even 60.  But 57?  Besides, I've never been much of a "numbers guy" anyway when it comes to age.  It all just seems so arbitrary.  It's just, well, a number.  You know the cliche': you're only as old as you feel.  It's true, too.  And I just have to say that I feel pretty young!  People say I look young, as well.  Must be those good Vitanza genes.  Tesse made it to 98 and Stella's still going strong at 88.  Making matters worse, it landed on a Thursday (i.e. a workday).    Besides, there's been a good deal of turmoil in my life lately.  You know, planets misaligned, dogs sleeping with cats, acid rain, toxic mud, poison arrows falling from the sky kind of stuff.  I felt like there wasn't going to be much of an opportunity (or desire) to celebrate.

Then, on top of it, the weather turned to shit - misty, rainy, gray, dank, damp, and dark.  So, Frankie was starting to feel like maybe this was going to be one of those blue birthdays.  Poor Frankie.  Alone on his birthday.  No one loves him.  Of course, I knew my family would be calling.  Stella would be on the phone first thing saying, Happy Birthday, Frankie!, with real joy in her heart and voice.  My brother and sister would call, as would some close friends.  But they're SUPPOSED to care.  I felt like something was missing.  A melancholia to match the dreary weather began to descend upon me.  And it lasted until I opened my Facebook home page and the messages began to arrive.  And they came all day and into the night - over 150 of them - from friends, school mates, team mates, acquaintances, co-workers, lovers and other strangers!!  None of them were terribly elaborate - just a simple "happy", "happy", letting me know that people, FRIENDS, were out there and that they cared.  They certainly cared enough to make the effort to let me know that they did, indeed, care.  I am grateful, I am humbled and I will never forget what it means.  It was like a fuel stop to fill up an empty soul.  I filled my tank with your love.  I have felt the love and, in my joy, I hope that it reflects back on each and every one of you, too.

In an interesting footnote, it also came to me that the #57 is, indeed, NOT insignificant, at least in MY life.  When finding out that I was turning 57 today, a friend at work said, oh, just like Heinz catsup! (The labeling on the Heinz Catsup bottle features the claim that 57 different ingredients were used to make it).   We chuckled when  I replied, hey, I hadn't thought of that!  Then it dawned on me: my father used to use that number in one of his corny, word-play jokes.  Whenever he saw a mixed-breed dog, i.e. a mutt, my father would joke, he's no mutt.  He's a special breed.  He's a "Heinzer Special".  Even though we were young, my brother, sister, and I weren't going to fall for that; there's no such breed as a "Heinzer Special, dad!"  My father would always be ready with his comeback, of course there is, just like this dog.  He has 57 other breeds of dog in him - a "Heinzer Special".  He would smile playfully while we all covered our eyes, shook our heads, and just moaned.

So, the number 57 triggered a VERY positive reaction after all  - my love has been returned 150 fold and it triggered a strong recollection of a man whom I loved very much.  Yes, my friends it was a GOOD BIRTHDAY!!!   

Social Commentary: Should You Care?

Photo courtesy TMZ

I really feel guilty about spending even what I hope will be only a few minutes on this subject.  In fact, I'm actually feeling a little nauseous about it!  But, in one of my roles, as I see them - as Social Commentator, I feel compelled to write at least something.  I suppose the best way to approach it would be to ask this question, and then go from there: Do you really give two shits that Kim Kardashian and Kanye West have been linked as a couple?  Do you give A shit?  Really?  Why?

I understand diversion and the very real human need for it.  Therefore, I understand the need for Hollywood, the image that it presents, and the corresponding gossip industry that surrounds it.  In fact, the Kardashians in general, and Kim in particular, have contributed to and, therefore, have been very well rewarded by, that very industry.  Kim is the latest it girl; famous for being famous and she has rode the whirlwind.  Kanye West on the other hand, is an award winning performer and music producer.  His work sells in the millions.  He is at least famous for something.

I have never met, or photographed, Kim Kardashian.  Therefore, I cannot attest to what she may be like personally.  However, I can say that I detest the blatant commercialism of everything associated with her.  Where others may applaud her apparent business acumen - she's laughing all the way to the bank - I believe that attitudes like hers, i.e. style over substance, add to the so-called decay in society everyone keeps bemoaning!  But I HAVE met Mr. West.  A few years back, when he was just reaching his fame and notoriety, a producer and I were to conduct and interview with him at the Mandarin Hotel in NYC. We met him in his opulent suite on the top floor of the luxury hotel and I set up to shoot the interview. West was surrounded by a considerable entourage that attended to his every need while I set up my camera and microphones.  The interview lasted about a half-hour.  After the interview with spent another half-hour or so following Mr. West around for me to shoot so-called "B-role" footage.  In other words, I was with him long enough to form an opinion about him as a person.  I've said it before on this blog, and I'll say it again on this blog, Kanye West was one of the most self-centered, arrogant, non-gracious people I have ever shot an interview with!  I can sum up his entire attitude with this one portion of the interview: when asked by the producer who is influences are, Mr. West responding by saying that he had none.  He was that truly unique.  Really?!

So, there you have it, a match made in Tabloid Heaven - a joining of two of the world's most massive egos!!  Just what we needed in this time of world crisis.

OK.  So, as promised, I'll spend no more times on this entry or its two, sorry subjects.  I'll close by saying that if YOU spend any more time on it . . . well, DON'T.  :)

A Poem: My Empire of Rage

Welcome to my Empire of RAGE

RAGE, RAGE, RAGE

RAGE against the dying of the Light
RAGE against the Machine

RAGE, RAGE, RAGE

RAGE against Hate
RAGE against Bigotry

RAGE, RAGE, RAGE

RAGE against Greed
RAGE against Poverty

RAGE, RAGE, RAGE

RAGE against Loneliness
RAGE against Love Lost

RAGE against Time
RAGE against Place
RAGE against Space

RAGE on, you crazy diamond
with RIGHTEOUS RAGE

Welcome to my Empire of RAGE

Social Commentary: Big Shoes

My assignment the other day was to cover the Vanity Fair party that would herald the opening of the 11th Annual Tribeca Film Festival. My producer and I were to work the so-called Red Carpet to shoot and interview the plethora of "A" list celebrities like Billy Crystal, Michael Douglas, and Robert DeNiro who where scheduled to attend. I mean, after all, it is well known in entertainment circles that THEY party to attend at any celebrity event HAS to be Vanity Fair's! Personally, and I believe I've made this clear in the past, I find these events much ado about nothing. But that my friends, is a story for another day. What I would like to address today are shoes. BIG SHOES. Women's BIG SHOES.

While my producer and I were taking our place with the other reporting teams on the Red Carpet, we noticed the producer from the crew right next to us. She had dark black hair that flowed long and wavy. She was petite, too, with a nice figure - about 5'2" and, maybe, 110 lbs. She had beautiful blue eyes that were accentuated by her dark hair and the light blue, summer-like dress she was wearing. I figured she must have been around 30. Not overly made-up, she had a natural beauty about her. Overall, she was an attractive and, from her demeanor, pleasant, young women. As we exchanged greetings (it's important to "know your neighbor" at these events because they pack you in so tightly you are bound to get "intimate" before the end of the evening!), I noticed that she was also wearing a pair of delicate sandals on her pedicured feet. They were not "flip-flops" - WAY more stylish than that. One might even call them sexy. And right next to where she was standing in those sexy, little sandals was the largest pair of shoes that I've ever seen!! I mean these things were MASSIVE. They were not "spike" heels but, rather thicker in appearance. And those heels were LONG. They had to be 6-8 inches tall. They were so tall, in fact, I believe that someone could commit suicide by jumping off the top of them!! They were VERY stylish, I'm sure, and were finished in a shinny, silver material that had flecks of black in it. It reminded me of the old "metal-flake" paint used on American Muscle cars. I mean we COULDN'T help but notice them! It was obvious that she was wearing her sandals because they were the most practical and comfortable but would switch to THE BIG SHOES when she would interview celebrities.

Of course, we HAD to ask her if they were, indeed, hers and if she could actually walk in them. She was good natured and said that they were hers and that she could walk in them if she was very careful. In fact, she said that she had injured herself a number of time trying to walk in THE BIG SHOES. We responded by asking, "why then, would you wear them, especially when you are already wearing a pair of sandals that are both practical AND sexy?! Her response? "They make me look taller."

They make me look taller. Simple enough. Or is it? On the surface, the statement is seemingly innocuous. Everyone wants to look their best and present an image that they believe shows them in the best light. However, the pressure to present a sexy, confident, young image is particularly intense for women. Women are barraged by messages that tell them how they should look, how they should eat, even how they should act. Walk by any newsstand and count the number of magazines devoted to women's fashion. I'm sure that they outnumber those targeting men by a wide margin. Count the number of TV commercials at any given time and, again, I'm sure that those targeting women FAR exceed those for men - especially when it comes to fashion and beauty. Buy this hair care product and you'll look like Angelina Jolie. Apply this make-up and you'll be like Nicole Kidman. Use this diet to get a figure like Brooklyn Decker. Wear these shoes and you'll party like you're at a Vanity Fair celebrity event! Silkier hair. Brighter teeth. Thinner waist. Bigger boobs. Longer nails. Sexier clothes. It's incessantly relentless. Everywhere that you turn there is another arbiter of high couture telling women to look like this or look like that, wear this, or wear that. I don't know how women can tell the real, healthy choices for their lives from the BULL SHIT.

I believe that it's part of a woman's nature to obsess, at least somewhat, over their appearance (MOST, anyway). I also know that, to a certain degree, most women are even willing to suffer (even if it's just a little bit) for the sake of being fashionable. But my concern is, where do you draw the line between fashion/beauty and common sense? And, who the hell are these fashion arbiters anyway and why should you listen to them? The BIG SHOES are an excellent example. Here was a beautiful young woman who had everything going for her. Yet, she still felt somehow inadequate because she was "short" and that had to be changed; even at the expense of her comfort and, possibly, safety. My producer and I never even noticed that she was "short" - she had so much else going for her. But BIG SHOES are "in". Tall women are "in". So, women receive the message that they better get with the program or get left behind. This is particularly true of professional women. They are so often led, and frequently misled, to believe that their looks are tied to their success.

Yes, this is a modern reality. I DO believe that society demands more of women in terms of so-called beauty and fashion. It IS too often interwoven with a woman's professional success. But why does it HAVE to be this way? Society deems it necessary? But WE are society and, therefore, we have the ability to change it!! And I believe that this change should start among women themselves. They can start putting an end to this "madness" by refusing to be defined by their looks or their so-called beauty. And I'm not calling for an end to "beauty" (which is in the eye of the beholder and can change radically from culture to culture anyway!). No. I'm calling for a common sense approach to it. It's simple. If things don't make sense, don't participate i.e. DON'T BUY IT!! Everyone, including women, apply this philosophy to virtually anything else. Why not fashion? Like BIG SHOES that are so BIG the wearer is in danger of getting a nose bleed from the altitude. They are dangerous and, IMHO, don't make you look any better then wearing a pair of skimpy, sexy, flat, COMFORTABLE sandals. So, go tell Messrs. Manolo, Madden, Antonio, Ferragamo, Kors, etc. (ALL men by the way, telling WOMEN what they should wear!) to take their dangerous, over-blown shoes and go take a hike in them - if they can!

Wisdom From The Garden

Words and image by F LoBuono

It has occurred to me that in times of great personal turmoil, when you're brain is so racked with conflict that you think it may boil, when your love seems lost in a turbulent sea of emotion, it's important to remember this: if you have given love, you will most certainly receive it. And for all the love lost, it will be returned to you ten fold. You just have to accept it.

Social Commentary: I Won't Forget

Words and photo by F LoBuono

I made this photo at sunrise, using my cell phone. It was taken on the third level that makes up the grounds of my house. It is looking east from the base of Clausland Mountain (part of the magnificent Palisades) over the Hudson River and towards Westchester County. I have been so fortunate to witness this breathtaking occurrence on a very regular basis. I am a notoriously early riser and frequently take a cup'o'joe with me to the third level to partake in what, for me, is a soul rejuvenating experience.

While I revel in all of this breathtaking beauty, I'm never far from the thought of how hard I had to work to get here and how far I have come (a friend calls me a 1 %'er! LOL. I've done well, but I am far from the 1%). Growing up in Fort Lee, NJ, we were never a family of means and both my parents worked, and worked hard, to provide for us. We were never "flush" but we never lacked. And, most importantly, my parents instilled in all of us this work ethic: if you work hard, stay true to yourself, and stay on the path of righteousness, you WILL succeed. And they were right. Because I have and I have succeeded.

But they also taught us not to take things, and our success, for granted. ALWAYS remember those who are less fortunate and may not have had the advantages that we had. I used to think about what they meant by that. I never saw us as having any advantages - we were not well-off. But, as I got older, I understood what they meant. I had the support of a loving family, good health, and an environment that allowed me to explore all options and, therefore, to flourish. In the end, it's not as simple as work hard, get ahead. You don't only have to have the mind-set, you have to the opportunity, as well.

So, as I breathe deeply and bathe in nature's magnificence, I always balance my joy with the knowledge that I am, indeed, a very lucky man and not to forget those who are less fortunate. And I am at peace.

Peace to all.

Words to Live By: Winston Churchill

This was sent to me by a very dear friend:

WHEN YOU ARE GOING THROUGH HELL, KEEP GOING!

Creative Writing: Lessons From The Garden

Words and image by F LoBuono

It's done. Finally. It did take me a week. But the soil is turned. Every inch. Turned with tender loving care. Fork by Fork. Row by row. The fence is mended and sealed tightly. Deer proof, I hope. Groundhog proof, too. Those little bastards ate us out of house and home last year. And the deer are no better - pretty to look at but destructive as all hell, too. I've done everything I can to prepare the garden to sow the seeds of what we hope will be a good crop at the end of the summer. It's an exciting time because the garden holds all the potential that the earth can yield. Yet, in the end, we are not sure what it may deliver. We will plant with the hope of a banner harvest, but we never know. We are at the mercy of outside factors like the weather and the vermin. However, we also know that if we prepare it properly, and tend it carefully, chances are we will have a healthy garden; one that will deliver a rewarding bounty.

Isn't life like a garden? If we prepare our minds, hearts, and souls properly to receive the seeds of love and happiness, isn't there a good chance that our lives, just like our garden, will yield the fruits of those labors? From time to time, our garden must endure drought, floods, pests, and the like over the course of the seasons. Isn't it the same in our lives? We must endure many hardships before we reap our harvest. But, if are watchful, we are diligent, and we are loving, our lives, like our gardens, are bound to produce a positive result.

Creative Writing: By Hand

Words and image by F LoBuono

I was up in the garden the other day, pitchfork in hand, hard at work, tilling the soil, when Catherine approached me and said, "why bother to do that by hand? We use the roto-tiller every year and it's much more efficient and effective. With the machine it will take you an hour. By hand, it'll take a week". I agreed (it's generally better TO agree) but with an explanation. I WANTED to do it by hand for a few reasons. I like the direct connection it gives me to the earth. I know, I know; sounds like tree-hugging nonsense. But I love to feel the earth - to smell it when you first break the ground with the pitchfork. And the air is so fresh at this time of year. The sun is strong but the air is crisp. After a few moments with the 'fork, there's no need for a sweatshirt anymore. Forget the gym. This is all the exercise that you'll ever need. And as you dig, you think. Then you realize that tilling by hand is a metaphor for life. It's difficult. It will take me a week of hard turning to till the entire garden. And I'm sore after every session. It's tedious sometimes, too. Have I taken on more than I can chew, I say to myself as I survey the vast space. I'll never make it! With every row I break, it seems another one grows in it's place! But, after time, row by row, cut by cut, the amount of tilled ground grows while the area left to till shrinks. Row by row, cut by cut. I can actually see the end now - enough to be satisfied in the fact that my hard work will pay off. This is the first step, the foundation, for what will, hopefully, at summer's end, be a healthy garden that yields a hearty bounty.

And such is life. It's hard sometimes - tedious, too. And often we wonder if all that hard work, all that effort, will pay off. But if you continue, row by row, cut by cut, to till your soul and prepare it to receive the seeds of knowledge, you will be rewarded with a garden of plenty.

Words to Live By: Frank LoBuono

ART NEVER RESTS.

April 2012

Words and Image by F LoBuono

Creative Writing: To Be In Centerfield

Painting of Yankee Stadium by Thomas Kinkade

It's on days like this one, early in the Spring, when I get that feeling. The season has just begun but is far enough along for the sun to warm your face and sprout fledgling buds on the trees, promising the full bloom of summer. It especially happens when my heart is heavy, my mind racing, my soul troubled. It is on days like today that I wish I was a boy again and the only thing vexing me was whether I would start in Centerfield or not.

And, man, could I play Centerfield. I was built for it - like a greyhound; deep in the chest, thin in the extremities. And I could run like one, too! I used to like to play really shallow and dare hitters to drive one over my head - 'cause they couldn't! I was so fast that I felt like I could run down any ball that was even hit close to me. The only way a hitter was going to get one over my head was to smash the damned thing over the wall!! Tracking down fly balls became my mission, my passion. I was a splendid splinter - a blur of a boy with visions of Mickey Mantle and Joe Dimaggio dancing in my head. I dreamt that, someday, I would be like a bounty hunter, patrolling the vast space that was Centerfield in the old Yankee Stadium, tracking down long fly balls as if they were runaway fugitives with a huge bounty on their heads.

Man, I could run. I'm left handed and, so, had that extra step closer to first base when I was at the plate for an at-bat. I was so fast that if I slapped the ball to the shortstop's backhand, by the time he righted himself, turned, and fired to first, I was already passing the bag. "SAFE!", the umpire would yell, much to the chagrin of the shortstop who did everything he was supposed to do and still couldn't throw me out. I almost always hit in the lead-off spot so that I could get on base and wreak havoc with my speed on the base path. In so many stolen base attempts that I can't remember them all, I CAN only remember being thrown out twice - and that was in the same game.

It was all so simple. It was all so innocent. About the only thing we had to worry about was whether rain would cancel the game. I desperately miss that simple, single-mindedness of purpose; practice, play the games, win, or lose. Gray was not a color that entered our minds unless we were talking about the weather.

I'm not so fast anymore. I'm still thick in the chest and thin in the extremities, but maybe a little thicker in the middle, too. I consider myself to be in reasonable shape but a sprint down the first-base line would, I'm sure, cause irreparable damage to my hamstrings! No. Those days are gone forever, and, unfortunately, so is the innocence the came with them. Now it's back to mortgages, relationships, bills, work, ailments, and . . . Oh, to be in Centerfield and run, and run, and run.

Words to Live By: George S. Patton

Make a decision and do it like hell.

Gen. George S. Patton.

Social Commentary: On The Pledge of Allegiance

It's one of the more common postings on Facebook; someone recites The Pledge of Allegiance, making sure to emphasize the phrase UNDER GOD. Their apparent point is to express their faith AND then to connect that faith to our country and the political process. For most conservatives, including UNDER GOD in The Pledge is absolutely essential for the very survival of the Country! When pressed as to the religious plurality that (supposedly!) exists in the United States, their response usually involves the so-called Judeo-Christian ideal that there is only ONE, TRUE GOD and that he reigns supreme over ALL mankind. One conservative that I correspond with showed what he believed was his kinder, gentler side on the issue by saying, "it's the same god for Christians, Jews, AND Muslims". My response is always the same; "but what about the Hindus, the Buddhists, the Wiccans, the Agnostics, the Atheists, etc., etc.? They don't worship the same god in the same way. In fact, some of those religions worship multiple deities and some no deity at all! Does this make them any less American"? No. No. No. A thousand times no! Faith and Patriotism are not inextricably linked!! I dare say that, in fact, some great Americans may have even been atheists!! That's why this GREAT COUNTRY was founded on the essential principal of separation of church and state. THIS is what is essential for the survival of the Nation.

But, oh, yes my friends, there is more! Of course this whole debate spurred me to do a little research as to the origin of The Pledge of Allegiance. What I found was MOST revealing. The Pledge was written in 1892 by Francis Bellamy, a Baptist Minister who also happened to be a Christian Socialist. Bellamy's cousin was Edward Bellamy, the great socialist Utopian writer and a profound influence on Francis and his writing of The Pledge. Francis Bellamy wrote The Pledge as a testament to his beliefs in political, social, and economic equality for all Americans. There was NO MENTION OF GOD in the original text. Apparently, this was a deliberate move by Bellamy to be as INCLUSIVE as possible and be true to his Christian Socialist beliefs. In essence, it was a SOCIALIST MANIFESTO! OH, MY GOD!! The Pledge of Allegiance was published by The Youth's Companion, a leading periodical of its day, in September of 1892. Bellamy was also a "big shot" in The National Education Association and had The Pledge including in the Nation's schools program for the celebration of the Columbus Centennial. It became part of most school's curriculum from then on.

Interestingly, the words UNDER GOD were not added until 1954. The Italian-American organization, The Knights of Columbus, spearheaded a drive that petitioned successfully to have Congress add UNDER GOD to The Pledge. The Knights reasoning was that the US was under direct siege by the godless communist hordes and the key to our survival was to express our righteousness and resolve, UNDER GOD (my italics). An Act of Congress has kept those words with us ever since.

In an interview with Francis Bellamy's granddaughter, she said that Bellamy would have been appalled by the addition. It was against the VERY PRINCIPALS with which he wrote it: with liberty and justice for all! Even though he was a devout Christian, he knew that the real key to America's greatness lies in her ability to provide not only freedom of religion but freedom from religion, as well. To put it in the most common terms, you are free to worship as you choose, but please keep from imposing those beliefs on me. And please, don't confuse religious fervor with patriotism. One does not breed the other. So, PLEDGE AWAY - but try and understand what it REALLY means.