Commentary, dissent, opinion, creative writing, photography, discussion, discourse: all of this and more are to be found within this magic box. This blog was created to be a repository for all of those with an open mind. Our slogan is: TalkFrank, where the Talk is always Frank. And we mean it. ALL are encouraged to participate, even those misguided enough to disagree!!
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Today's MOMENT OF ZEN 7/31/12
My heart soars like a hawk . . .
Chief Dan George in Little Big Man
I saw her again today. Roosting and watching, perched high upon a light post, right above the speeding (and mostly oblivious) traffic just north of the 158th St. exit of the West Side Highway. It had been awhile since I first noticed her there. I got a little nervous thinking that, perhaps, she had abandoned me. There was a time during the late Spring that I saw her in that very spot on many occasions. Then, for a few weeks, I could not find her. And, no matter how almost common it had become, it is always special. I missed her. Red Tails are large, fierce, and intense looking animals. Beautiful. To know how wild they truly are and see them silhouetted by the incomparable NY Skyline can be an awe inspiring experience.
But, in order to see one, you have to be aware of what's around you. To see unexpected things in unlikely places one must be alert to the world as it moves around them . If you look quickly and are not observant, she can look like just another, large pigeon. Do we really need to see another, large pigeon? Look for the signs of wonderment. The are all around us. Open your eyes. Open your minds. Open your souls. And let your heart soar like a hawk.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Today's MOMENT OF ZEN 7/27/12
Photo and words: F LoBuono
Stella received a good, solid Catholic school girl education. And she was a good student, too. But she does not have the academic qualifications that many other women in my family, including her sister and mine, posses. Still, she has a sharp and curious mind. She also has an uncanny intuition about things. I believe that she has this gift because she is a keen observer of people, and of life. This power of observation gives her the ability to break things down to their simplest, most basic level. She is able to determine what is the elemental truth in any situation. This helps her to keep things in perspective. And Stella has always helped me to find mine. One of the ways she does this is to always let you know that she is available to LISTEN, at any time, at any place. Another, and a most endearing way, is by imparting little gems of wisdom, like this one, on me: tomorrow is another day. She has many others but let's stick with this one for now.
Tomorrow is another day. Simple enough. But is it profound? I believe that it is very much so. I know that all of us, from time to time, can be confronted by situations that get so complex they can seem overwhelming. In the street vernacular I grew up with, you don't know whether to shit or grin! You feel that if you have even one more thought, your head will certainly explode. When I feel this way (which, for an intense person like me, is often!), I have a good, long discussion with Stella about what is troubling me. At some point, she will always say, simply, tomorrow is another day. It's so simple and yet, like many simple things, so profound. She's saying that it's OK to give yourself a break. You can do no more at the moment except make yourself even more crazy. If you put things aside for awhile, you will gain a new, fresh perspective in the morning. And you will be able to think clearly again. This is the practical application. There is a more esoteric one, as well.
I also think that she is trying to teach me that life is in perpetual motion around us, too. It continues with, or without us. Yes, at that moment, our problems appear to us as the center of the Universe. But the sun will surely rise. There will be day and it will be followed by night. It's a big, wondrous world that offers something fresh and new EVERY day. The musical Annie and it's signature song, put it to music: The sun'll come out tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that, tomorrow, they'll be sun. We just have to be receptive to it. Stella says so!
Stella received a good, solid Catholic school girl education. And she was a good student, too. But she does not have the academic qualifications that many other women in my family, including her sister and mine, posses. Still, she has a sharp and curious mind. She also has an uncanny intuition about things. I believe that she has this gift because she is a keen observer of people, and of life. This power of observation gives her the ability to break things down to their simplest, most basic level. She is able to determine what is the elemental truth in any situation. This helps her to keep things in perspective. And Stella has always helped me to find mine. One of the ways she does this is to always let you know that she is available to LISTEN, at any time, at any place. Another, and a most endearing way, is by imparting little gems of wisdom, like this one, on me: tomorrow is another day. She has many others but let's stick with this one for now.
Tomorrow is another day. Simple enough. But is it profound? I believe that it is very much so. I know that all of us, from time to time, can be confronted by situations that get so complex they can seem overwhelming. In the street vernacular I grew up with, you don't know whether to shit or grin! You feel that if you have even one more thought, your head will certainly explode. When I feel this way (which, for an intense person like me, is often!), I have a good, long discussion with Stella about what is troubling me. At some point, she will always say, simply, tomorrow is another day. It's so simple and yet, like many simple things, so profound. She's saying that it's OK to give yourself a break. You can do no more at the moment except make yourself even more crazy. If you put things aside for awhile, you will gain a new, fresh perspective in the morning. And you will be able to think clearly again. This is the practical application. There is a more esoteric one, as well.
I also think that she is trying to teach me that life is in perpetual motion around us, too. It continues with, or without us. Yes, at that moment, our problems appear to us as the center of the Universe. But the sun will surely rise. There will be day and it will be followed by night. It's a big, wondrous world that offers something fresh and new EVERY day. The musical Annie and it's signature song, put it to music: The sun'll come out tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that, tomorrow, they'll be sun. We just have to be receptive to it. Stella says so!
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Today's MOMENT OF ZEN 7/26/12
Words and photo: F LoBuono
Yesterday, I attended the funeral of a good friend's father. I didn't know Al very well. But I did know him well enough to realize that he was an exceptional man, and a generous one, too. Before he retired to South Carolina, he owned and lived on one of the last horse farms in Rockland County and was kind enough to host my wedding reception there. Al lived a full live with a successful career, a loving family, and an adventurous soul. He was a veteran. He raised 4 children and still traveled the world. He was also dedicated to his community and served it through various organizations. He always made time for the important things in life. I knew him as a true gentleman. And at the end of his long life, Al was rewarded with the love and respect he so richly deserved. The funeral home was crowded with family and friends, all professing their deep affection and genuine admiration for the man. And he was mourned, too. His son, and my friend, Will, eulogized him with a wonderful mixture of pathos and humor. Al would have been proud - and pleased, too!
As I rode away from the the burial on my Harley on what was a spectacularly beautiful mid-summer day, I reflected on my mortality and what legacy (if ANY) I would leave. I certainly don't dwell on my own demise but, despite my enormous ego, I know that, someday, I will die. As I cruised on, my thoughts wandered: When that day comes, who will eulogize me? What would be said about my life? Will anyone even come to the funeral? And, I think that I may have some cause for concern! Someone like Al left so much. He left children, grandchildren, and GREAT grandchildren. He served his country. He served his community. I, on the other hand, have NO children. I'm on speaking terms with only one of my three stepsons. I haven't spoken (my choice) with my wife in weeks. I am not a veteran. I serve no community organizations. I work. I write. But I DO care about life and how it is lived. However, is caring to be good, good enough?
I will not be falsely modest (my ego is way too LARGE to allow it). I have a wonderful family and fantastic friends. And the do love me. I know that. But have I truly earned their love and respect? Who, besides my mother (if she's still living, she's 88), will shed a REAL tear for me? Who will recite the kaddish at my grave? Who will leave a rose on my casket, or place a small rock on my headstone? And have I REALLY given them reason to? This is not self pity. I think self realization would be more fair to say. I am not old by any stretch of the imagination. But, at 57, I ain't getting any younger, either! Life truly is the blink of an eye.
Perhaps, I should see this as a Dickensonian epiphany. As Scrooge, is shown the error of his ways and is given a chance at redemption, a second chance, I should see this for the opportunity it most certainly is to rededicate myself to the creed: service over self. I must remind myself to ALWAYS live with honesty, integrity, and, most importantly, love above all else. Then, maybe, just maybe, at the end, I'll be worth a lingering thought. . .
.
Yesterday, I attended the funeral of a good friend's father. I didn't know Al very well. But I did know him well enough to realize that he was an exceptional man, and a generous one, too. Before he retired to South Carolina, he owned and lived on one of the last horse farms in Rockland County and was kind enough to host my wedding reception there. Al lived a full live with a successful career, a loving family, and an adventurous soul. He was a veteran. He raised 4 children and still traveled the world. He was also dedicated to his community and served it through various organizations. He always made time for the important things in life. I knew him as a true gentleman. And at the end of his long life, Al was rewarded with the love and respect he so richly deserved. The funeral home was crowded with family and friends, all professing their deep affection and genuine admiration for the man. And he was mourned, too. His son, and my friend, Will, eulogized him with a wonderful mixture of pathos and humor. Al would have been proud - and pleased, too!
As I rode away from the the burial on my Harley on what was a spectacularly beautiful mid-summer day, I reflected on my mortality and what legacy (if ANY) I would leave. I certainly don't dwell on my own demise but, despite my enormous ego, I know that, someday, I will die. As I cruised on, my thoughts wandered: When that day comes, who will eulogize me? What would be said about my life? Will anyone even come to the funeral? And, I think that I may have some cause for concern! Someone like Al left so much. He left children, grandchildren, and GREAT grandchildren. He served his country. He served his community. I, on the other hand, have NO children. I'm on speaking terms with only one of my three stepsons. I haven't spoken (my choice) with my wife in weeks. I am not a veteran. I serve no community organizations. I work. I write. But I DO care about life and how it is lived. However, is caring to be good, good enough?
I will not be falsely modest (my ego is way too LARGE to allow it). I have a wonderful family and fantastic friends. And the do love me. I know that. But have I truly earned their love and respect? Who, besides my mother (if she's still living, she's 88), will shed a REAL tear for me? Who will recite the kaddish at my grave? Who will leave a rose on my casket, or place a small rock on my headstone? And have I REALLY given them reason to? This is not self pity. I think self realization would be more fair to say. I am not old by any stretch of the imagination. But, at 57, I ain't getting any younger, either! Life truly is the blink of an eye.
Perhaps, I should see this as a Dickensonian epiphany. As Scrooge, is shown the error of his ways and is given a chance at redemption, a second chance, I should see this for the opportunity it most certainly is to rededicate myself to the creed: service over self. I must remind myself to ALWAYS live with honesty, integrity, and, most importantly, love above all else. Then, maybe, just maybe, at the end, I'll be worth a lingering thought. . .
.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Today's MOMENT OF ZEN 7/24/12
Words and Photo by F LoBuono
It just doesn't make any sense. But it doesn't have to. It just is. This lies at the very core of the Practice of Zen. But, if it was easy, we wouldn't have to call it the Practice of Zen. . .
It just doesn't make any sense. But it doesn't have to. It just is. This lies at the very core of the Practice of Zen. But, if it was easy, we wouldn't have to call it the Practice of Zen. . .
Monday, July 23, 2012
Today's MOMENT OF ZEN 7/23/12
Photo: Goggle Words: F LoBuono
It was early. Frightfully early. About 5 a.m. But I was wide awake. I had fallen asleep before 11 the previous night and, since my custom is not to sleep more than 5 or 6 hours in a single stretch, there I was, wide awake at 5. I've always been that way. It can be frustrating; with all due respect to truck drivers and bakers, I mean who else is up at 5? There's not a whole hell of a lot going on. However, that's also the beauty of it - the time is all yours. You can read, write, think, or just be. This morning I happened to be in just be mode. I padded, barefoot, around my apartment soaking up the quiet serenity of my surroundings. It wasn't quite light yet but there was a distant, faint glow of the impending dawn in the eastern sky. A few birds had begun to greet the coming light, each with their distinct morning melody. Suddenly, their singing was interrupted by the unmistakable rumble of distant thunder. I stood in front of my large bay window to see if I could observe any lightening. And I was rewarded with a spectacular show! The flashes and the rumblings were still in the distant west but I could tell they were moving rapidly towards the east and me. The great majority of neighborhood homes were still in the dark. The explosive flashes of light silhouetted them with increasing frequency. The storm would soon be right on top of me. As it got closer, the thunder and lightening got more and more intense. The thunder was so booming that it began to rattle the apartment windows. And, instead of mere flashes of light in a distant sky, I could see the lightening was now reaching the ground. They were all around me. The wind picked up and was strong enough to straighten out the curtains on my windows. After all of the intense summer heat we've recently experienced, it felt so clean and refreshing. And I could smell the impending rain. There's nothing like it. In a matter of seconds, I would experience the full brunt of the storm. Then, it was here. With a window rattling CRACK, a bolt of lightening appeared to strike in my front yard. BOOM, followed the angry thunder. And then the rains came. Buckets of it. Torrents of tropical rain. All of it punctuated by a steady supply of CRACKS and BOOMS. The whole show lasted about 15 or twenty minutes. At one point, I laid back on my bed and closed my eyes. Not to sleep but rather to listen and feel. I wanted to experience the moment to its fullest - not just see it, but use all of my senses. And I was rewarded for it. As the rain filled the reservoirs, the storm filled my soul as well.
When it was all done and the storm moved to the east, I did go back to bed. I fell back to sleep, my mind and soul once again at peace with the world.
It was early. Frightfully early. About 5 a.m. But I was wide awake. I had fallen asleep before 11 the previous night and, since my custom is not to sleep more than 5 or 6 hours in a single stretch, there I was, wide awake at 5. I've always been that way. It can be frustrating; with all due respect to truck drivers and bakers, I mean who else is up at 5? There's not a whole hell of a lot going on. However, that's also the beauty of it - the time is all yours. You can read, write, think, or just be. This morning I happened to be in just be mode. I padded, barefoot, around my apartment soaking up the quiet serenity of my surroundings. It wasn't quite light yet but there was a distant, faint glow of the impending dawn in the eastern sky. A few birds had begun to greet the coming light, each with their distinct morning melody. Suddenly, their singing was interrupted by the unmistakable rumble of distant thunder. I stood in front of my large bay window to see if I could observe any lightening. And I was rewarded with a spectacular show! The flashes and the rumblings were still in the distant west but I could tell they were moving rapidly towards the east and me. The great majority of neighborhood homes were still in the dark. The explosive flashes of light silhouetted them with increasing frequency. The storm would soon be right on top of me. As it got closer, the thunder and lightening got more and more intense. The thunder was so booming that it began to rattle the apartment windows. And, instead of mere flashes of light in a distant sky, I could see the lightening was now reaching the ground. They were all around me. The wind picked up and was strong enough to straighten out the curtains on my windows. After all of the intense summer heat we've recently experienced, it felt so clean and refreshing. And I could smell the impending rain. There's nothing like it. In a matter of seconds, I would experience the full brunt of the storm. Then, it was here. With a window rattling CRACK, a bolt of lightening appeared to strike in my front yard. BOOM, followed the angry thunder. And then the rains came. Buckets of it. Torrents of tropical rain. All of it punctuated by a steady supply of CRACKS and BOOMS. The whole show lasted about 15 or twenty minutes. At one point, I laid back on my bed and closed my eyes. Not to sleep but rather to listen and feel. I wanted to experience the moment to its fullest - not just see it, but use all of my senses. And I was rewarded for it. As the rain filled the reservoirs, the storm filled my soul as well.
When it was all done and the storm moved to the east, I did go back to bed. I fell back to sleep, my mind and soul once again at peace with the world.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Another Moment of Zen 7/21/12
Photo and words by F LoBuono
As is my custom, especially on beautiful afternoons, I like to take a stroll through town. I don't want to call it a mere walk. It's more than that. It's beyond mere locomotion as is implied by the word walk. No. This movement is done as much with the head as it is with the legs. It's a chance to see, and BE seen. It's an opportunity to connect with your surroundings and community. For better or worse, you can even smell it! And, if the spirit moves you, you can even tarry a bit, window shop, or share some conversation with a store keeper or neighbor. They even have words in different languages to describe this type of walking. In Italian, it's called a passegiata. In the Southern parts of the US they call it a constitutional. My favorite is sojourn, a trip that allows you the time to truly experience your surroundings.
Anyway, in addition to all the esoterica, it can also serve a purpose. I mean, you can have a destination, too. In today's case, mine was the Chinese joint in town to grab some lunch. It's not half bad. At least they don't smother their food in some greasy sauce. Plus, it's only 5 bucks - right up my alley for a cheap lunch! I decided on the shrimp egg foo young with a hot and sour shop (it's included - nice deal!). It was all ready in under 10 minutes. I grabbed the goods and was making my way at a good pace back through town and towards my apartment. As I was approaching a young black man (I guess he must have been in his thirties), he saw me and apparently by his reaction, recognized me. I, on the other hand, did not recognize him. As I got closer to him, he extended his hand and said, well, well, it's the man whose been gone from Nyack for too long. Welcome back, brother. I shook his hand while looking in his eyes. I wanted to see if I could recollect him at all, but I could not. I replied, it sure is good to be back. He responded by asking, how are you doing? I'm doin' great, I said. Thanks for asking! We released our handshake grip and I started to move on. His last words to me before I turned the corner and was gone from is sight were, anytime, brother, anytime.
God, I LOVE this town
.
As is my custom, especially on beautiful afternoons, I like to take a stroll through town. I don't want to call it a mere walk. It's more than that. It's beyond mere locomotion as is implied by the word walk. No. This movement is done as much with the head as it is with the legs. It's a chance to see, and BE seen. It's an opportunity to connect with your surroundings and community. For better or worse, you can even smell it! And, if the spirit moves you, you can even tarry a bit, window shop, or share some conversation with a store keeper or neighbor. They even have words in different languages to describe this type of walking. In Italian, it's called a passegiata. In the Southern parts of the US they call it a constitutional. My favorite is sojourn, a trip that allows you the time to truly experience your surroundings.
Anyway, in addition to all the esoterica, it can also serve a purpose. I mean, you can have a destination, too. In today's case, mine was the Chinese joint in town to grab some lunch. It's not half bad. At least they don't smother their food in some greasy sauce. Plus, it's only 5 bucks - right up my alley for a cheap lunch! I decided on the shrimp egg foo young with a hot and sour shop (it's included - nice deal!). It was all ready in under 10 minutes. I grabbed the goods and was making my way at a good pace back through town and towards my apartment. As I was approaching a young black man (I guess he must have been in his thirties), he saw me and apparently by his reaction, recognized me. I, on the other hand, did not recognize him. As I got closer to him, he extended his hand and said, well, well, it's the man whose been gone from Nyack for too long. Welcome back, brother. I shook his hand while looking in his eyes. I wanted to see if I could recollect him at all, but I could not. I replied, it sure is good to be back. He responded by asking, how are you doing? I'm doin' great, I said. Thanks for asking! We released our handshake grip and I started to move on. His last words to me before I turned the corner and was gone from is sight were, anytime, brother, anytime.
God, I LOVE this town
.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Social Commentary: From My Cold, Dead Hands
Words by F LoBuono
From my cold, dead hands . . . Actor, and then NRA President, Charlton Heston, while brandishing a replica of a Sharps Buffalo Rifle, uttered that phrase at the close of the 129th NRA Annual Convention in May of 2000. From my cold, dead hands . . . Those words hold special meaning to NRA members and gun-rights enthusiasts from all over the country. You can even get a bumper sticker emblazoned with that slogan. Of course, it's meant to emphasize ones support for the 2nd Amendment to The Constitution; the so-called Right to Bear Arms amendment.
Look, I get it. It is open to interpretation, but it is also reasonable to conclude that the 2nd Amendment does guarantee Americans the right to own, and carry a weapon. My purpose with this entry is NOT to debate that issue. Rather, I would like to discuss the mind set of people who VIGOROUSLY support gun ownership and the right to bear them. From my cold dead hands . . . Think about what that statement means, especially to people who use it as mantra of sorts. The implication is that they would rather die (or, perhaps kill) then give up that right. We, as Americans, are a fiercely independent lot! We will not give up our inalienable rights easily, if at all. And we are willing to fight for them. However, it appears to me that those who fanatically support the 2nd Amendment have created a culture of gun worship that is leading to an increasingly violent society where disputes are settled with guns instead of words.
The latest example (and there have been so MANY) is the shooting at the movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. 12 are confirmed dead and nearly 40 have been wounded, many critically. And all this carnage was created by a heavily ARMED young man. The reason exactly why he did this is yet to be discovered. But it will be in time. Of course, in an effort to know exactly how this could happen, it will be essential to know why he did this. However, again, this is secondary to the point I wish to make here. How could anyone conceive of executing such a heinous act, do so without some knowledge, if not obsession, with firearms? He did not enter that theater with a butter knife!! Early reports are that he was heavily armed and knew how to use the weapons he was carrying. It is early in the investigation and we should not jump to conclusions. However, still, it is reasonable to assume that he had exposure to weapons and the culture that surrounds them for some time. His killing was too efficient to assume otherwise. Does this make him a gun "fanatic"? Perhaps not, but, certainly, it is again reasonable to assume that he must have been a BIG supporter of the 2nd Amendment. How else would he be able to obtain so many weapons if not for the RIGHT to access and own them???
Another popular NRA slogan is: guns don't kill people, people kill people. Well, the truth is crazy people who have easy access to guns, in a gun crazy society, kill people!! It's time that we rethink our obsession with firearms!!
I am not afraid of guns. My father was in Law Enforcement and, so, I was around weapons for virtually my entire young life. My father would even take me the police range to familiarize me with the handling, safety, and use of a handgun. He began EVERY session with the same admonishment: guns ultimately serve one purpose - to kill. Therefore, we never brandish a weapon unless will ultimately intend to use it for that purpose. I have never forgotten that and I've taken it one step further; I have renounced guns and the violence they cause. For me, there can be no other way. Something must be done and it must be done now. From my cold, dead hands . . . How many more will be gunned down before we realize that real freedom comes when we are liberated from our obsession with guns.
From my cold, dead hands . . . Actor, and then NRA President, Charlton Heston, while brandishing a replica of a Sharps Buffalo Rifle, uttered that phrase at the close of the 129th NRA Annual Convention in May of 2000. From my cold, dead hands . . . Those words hold special meaning to NRA members and gun-rights enthusiasts from all over the country. You can even get a bumper sticker emblazoned with that slogan. Of course, it's meant to emphasize ones support for the 2nd Amendment to The Constitution; the so-called Right to Bear Arms amendment.
Look, I get it. It is open to interpretation, but it is also reasonable to conclude that the 2nd Amendment does guarantee Americans the right to own, and carry a weapon. My purpose with this entry is NOT to debate that issue. Rather, I would like to discuss the mind set of people who VIGOROUSLY support gun ownership and the right to bear them. From my cold dead hands . . . Think about what that statement means, especially to people who use it as mantra of sorts. The implication is that they would rather die (or, perhaps kill) then give up that right. We, as Americans, are a fiercely independent lot! We will not give up our inalienable rights easily, if at all. And we are willing to fight for them. However, it appears to me that those who fanatically support the 2nd Amendment have created a culture of gun worship that is leading to an increasingly violent society where disputes are settled with guns instead of words.
The latest example (and there have been so MANY) is the shooting at the movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. 12 are confirmed dead and nearly 40 have been wounded, many critically. And all this carnage was created by a heavily ARMED young man. The reason exactly why he did this is yet to be discovered. But it will be in time. Of course, in an effort to know exactly how this could happen, it will be essential to know why he did this. However, again, this is secondary to the point I wish to make here. How could anyone conceive of executing such a heinous act, do so without some knowledge, if not obsession, with firearms? He did not enter that theater with a butter knife!! Early reports are that he was heavily armed and knew how to use the weapons he was carrying. It is early in the investigation and we should not jump to conclusions. However, still, it is reasonable to assume that he had exposure to weapons and the culture that surrounds them for some time. His killing was too efficient to assume otherwise. Does this make him a gun "fanatic"? Perhaps not, but, certainly, it is again reasonable to assume that he must have been a BIG supporter of the 2nd Amendment. How else would he be able to obtain so many weapons if not for the RIGHT to access and own them???
Another popular NRA slogan is: guns don't kill people, people kill people. Well, the truth is crazy people who have easy access to guns, in a gun crazy society, kill people!! It's time that we rethink our obsession with firearms!!
I am not afraid of guns. My father was in Law Enforcement and, so, I was around weapons for virtually my entire young life. My father would even take me the police range to familiarize me with the handling, safety, and use of a handgun. He began EVERY session with the same admonishment: guns ultimately serve one purpose - to kill. Therefore, we never brandish a weapon unless will ultimately intend to use it for that purpose. I have never forgotten that and I've taken it one step further; I have renounced guns and the violence they cause. For me, there can be no other way. Something must be done and it must be done now. From my cold, dead hands . . . How many more will be gunned down before we realize that real freedom comes when we are liberated from our obsession with guns.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Today's Moment of Zen 7/20/12
Photo and words by F LoBuono
A dear friend of mine imparted these true words of wisdom to me this afternoon: Everyone says that relationships are a 50-50 arrangement. They are not. They are a 100% one. How simple. How eloquent. How profound.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Social Commentary: Fear and Loathing
Fear and Loathing. It's a term you see me use often in my political writings. Of course, I borrowed it from none other than Dr. Gonzo himself, and a person of great inspiration to me, Hunter S. Thompson. I believe that he used the term to describe an atmosphere of hate and paranoia that, far too often, permeates modern society and culture. And even though he coined the phrase in the '60s, I believe that, perhaps, it is even MORE applicable today, particularly in the current political arena. I certainly believe that it is.
In just a few months, America will once again choose who will be the most powerful man on earth. This is both a blessing and a curse for us. It is a blessing because that person belongs to us, our "tribe". But it is a curse, too, because the stakes are so high it often causes that tribe to be torn apart by the pressure of such high stakes. And I don't believe that, in my nearly forty years of voting, I have ever seen a choice so clear or an election as contentious as this one! This, again, is a blessing and a curse. Clear choices are a good thing. Vitriolic bickering over them is not. It's that bickering that disturbs me. THAT brings on the fear and loathing of which I write.
Because the choice between candidates is so clear, it should be easy to choose. For ease of discussion, let's call President Barack Obama the liberal leaning candidate and Mitt Romney, the conservative. Pretty clear, yes? So, why then is there so much fear and loathing in the campaign rhetoric, particular among the Republican/Conservatives? Nasty rhetoric is to be expected in long, hard political campaigns. BOTH sides have gotten in there share of "cheap shots". It comes with the territory. However, from my experience, I have never seen a more vicious assault on the very character of a candidate then the one now being perpetrated on President Obama by GOP Conservatives. You may not agree with the President's policies, or the direction you believe he is directing the country in. THAT'S why we have elections - to choose a person who best represents our vision for the country. However, if you believe the rhetoric of such so-called pundits like Rush Limbaugh and so-called news outlets like Fox News, then you are yielding to a campaign of fear and loathing. My god, they've accused the man of everything from being an "illegal alien" to "dismantling this country brick by brick"! Really? I've seen some phony Facebook photo of Mr. Obama on a stage looking as if he was refusing to say The Pledge of Allegiance. Really? Do you, COULD you, believe any of these things to be true? That the President forged his birth certificate? The he (or ANY President) would refuse to recite The Pledge? Really? That he is consciously trying to destroy the country? Really? REASONABLE people would see it for the fear and loathing that it is, dismiss it completely, and stick with the issues!
Yet the fear and loathing persists, day after day, perpetuated by blowhards like Limbaugh, Ann Coulter and virtually the entire staff at Fox News, etc.! Why?, I often ask myself. I get the differences in opinion and direction that others support. I don't get the unreasonable, illogical, and downright vitriolic method in which it is expressed! I search for reasons, and even though I'm VERY reluctant to play the race card, I'm left with the possibility that a good portion of that HATE is generated by a subtle (if not OVERT) form of racism. Could it be that many, even subconsciously, detest the idea that a black man is actually running the country? I have asked many why they so distrust the man. No one has been able to supply me with a reasonable response.
I was never a George Bush fan (I know, some of you are really laughing now!). His policies would never jive with my vision for America. And I often expressed my displeasure with his Presidency. However, I NEVER accused him of being "anti-America" or of deliberately dismantling the Country. He may have been misguided (IMHO), and not the "brightest bulb" but I NEVER said (or wrote) that he was truly nefarious - as many accuse Barack Obama to be.
So, my point is, if you want to debate the issues and the candidate with me, I'm here (hear) for you. If you are looking to spread more fear and loathing, tell your story walking. Perhaps, Rush Limbaugh will listen to you.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Today's Moment of Zen 7/13/12
photo: google / words: F LoBuono
For me, those magic, little moments happen at the most unexpected and, therefore, the most opportune times. Yesterday happened to be one of them. There has been quite a bit of emotional upheaval in my life recently. And, like most people, that means that I have good days and bad. Yesterday was one of the bad. No matter how I tried, how much I meditated, how much I tried to look on the bright side, I just couldn't seem to pull myself out of that funk. Well, I couldn't quit trying - failure is not an option. So, I decided to ride my motorcycle to work. It was a warm, beautiful summer day and riding has a tendency to free my spirit and take my mind off my woes, at least for the duration of the ride. When riding, it's important to become one with the machine. First, it's the safe thing to do. You MUST be aware of everything around you. Plus, that helps you to take your mind off the things that may be troubling you. It seemed to be working well enough. We were humming along, the motorcycle performing perfectly, the sun strong, the sky blue and virtually cloudless, the road clear of traffic. Perfect. It certainly helped. However, still, in the back of my mind, I couldn't entirely stop thinking about my troubles. Then, it appeared. From the trees that line each side of the Palisades Interstate Parkway, a large bird flew out of the thicket and soared directly above me. There was no mistaking what it was: a Red Tail Hawk. They are very distinct is size, shape and markings. It's hard to miss their bright white breast and vibrant red tail. And she was right above me. Normally, they just fly over the road from one side of the highway to the forested median that separates the north and southbound lanes. But not this time. Instead, she flew right above me and just ahead for a good distance - I would estimate it was about 100 yards before she disappeared back into the trees.
For those few seconds my heart soared just like that hawk! I have previously written on this blog that Red Tails must be one of my familiars (i.e. a spirit guide, usually in the form of an animal). I see them often, particularly along the Palisades, which provide a perfect habitat for them. No matter how often I encounter them, it is always special and never fails to make me smile. Certainly, this was no exception. In fact, it was even beyond my normal experience with seeing one. The fact that she was leading me forward struck me as more than mere coincidence; it was a message. It was if she was showing me the way. And that way was forward - straight ahead. We must always look forward, to the future, and not dwell on the past. It's OK to reminisce but success lies in moving forward.
For that brief moment, all troubles were forgotten, replaced with the comfort of knowing that, if we keep our hearts true, and we continue to progress, all will be well with you and the world. It was a simple thing, but, at the same time, profound. And the older I get, the more I realize that, indeed, the simplest things ARE the most profound.
For me, those magic, little moments happen at the most unexpected and, therefore, the most opportune times. Yesterday happened to be one of them. There has been quite a bit of emotional upheaval in my life recently. And, like most people, that means that I have good days and bad. Yesterday was one of the bad. No matter how I tried, how much I meditated, how much I tried to look on the bright side, I just couldn't seem to pull myself out of that funk. Well, I couldn't quit trying - failure is not an option. So, I decided to ride my motorcycle to work. It was a warm, beautiful summer day and riding has a tendency to free my spirit and take my mind off my woes, at least for the duration of the ride. When riding, it's important to become one with the machine. First, it's the safe thing to do. You MUST be aware of everything around you. Plus, that helps you to take your mind off the things that may be troubling you. It seemed to be working well enough. We were humming along, the motorcycle performing perfectly, the sun strong, the sky blue and virtually cloudless, the road clear of traffic. Perfect. It certainly helped. However, still, in the back of my mind, I couldn't entirely stop thinking about my troubles. Then, it appeared. From the trees that line each side of the Palisades Interstate Parkway, a large bird flew out of the thicket and soared directly above me. There was no mistaking what it was: a Red Tail Hawk. They are very distinct is size, shape and markings. It's hard to miss their bright white breast and vibrant red tail. And she was right above me. Normally, they just fly over the road from one side of the highway to the forested median that separates the north and southbound lanes. But not this time. Instead, she flew right above me and just ahead for a good distance - I would estimate it was about 100 yards before she disappeared back into the trees.
For those few seconds my heart soared just like that hawk! I have previously written on this blog that Red Tails must be one of my familiars (i.e. a spirit guide, usually in the form of an animal). I see them often, particularly along the Palisades, which provide a perfect habitat for them. No matter how often I encounter them, it is always special and never fails to make me smile. Certainly, this was no exception. In fact, it was even beyond my normal experience with seeing one. The fact that she was leading me forward struck me as more than mere coincidence; it was a message. It was if she was showing me the way. And that way was forward - straight ahead. We must always look forward, to the future, and not dwell on the past. It's OK to reminisce but success lies in moving forward.
For that brief moment, all troubles were forgotten, replaced with the comfort of knowing that, if we keep our hearts true, and we continue to progress, all will be well with you and the world. It was a simple thing, but, at the same time, profound. And the older I get, the more I realize that, indeed, the simplest things ARE the most profound.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Creative Writing: My First Date
Words and photo: F LoBuono
Even though it was over forty years ago, I remember it as if it was yesterday: my first, true date. I had some grade school crushes and girl friends but this was to be my first "adult" date. It was 1970, I was fifteen and a sophomore in High School. I was a man now and was going to take a date to a movie for the first time without any kind of chaperon (of course, that was after her father dropped us off at the theater!). I had fallen for a shy girl in my own grade and, overcoming my own timidness when it came to girls, asked her if she wanted to go out on a date. To my mild surprise, she said, "yes". We decided to go to a weekend matinee. I have no idea why we choose a matinee instead of a more traditional Saturday evening date. Perhaps it had something to do with the transportation arrangements. But we did. The movie theater in our town (Fort Lee) had closed, so we would have to look for a theater elsewhere. We decided to see The Owl and The Pussycat at the Rialto Theater located on Main Street in Ridgefield Park, NJ. The movie today would be called a romantic comedy. Then it was known as a madcap farce. Anyway, it starred George Segal and Barbara Streisand as a woefully mismatched Manhattan couple who just might find true love if they could keep from killing one another. It had adult themes and situations - probably more than either one of us would let our parents know about! But, after all, we WERE adults (at least I saw us as such) and we should be seeing a film suitable for adults. The only, real problem was that neither one of us was old enough to drive! I remember her father, a big, jovial man, volunteering to take us. He liked good food and wine and knew of a place not far from the theater where he could have some lunch while he waited for us to emerge from the theater.
So, the plan was set and, on Saturday afternoon, put in motion. Her father had this huge, old Chrysler. I mean a family of five could live in this thing if they had to! I remember feeling so small as my date and I entered the cavernous back seat. Her father would act as chauffeur and drive alone in the front. It's about a fifteen minute drive from Fort Lee to Ridgefield Park, down Rte. 46 to the Main St. exit that would take us to the Rialto. Ridgefield Park was (and still is) in so many ways a typical, blue collar NJ working class town with a downtown area that time had mostly forgotten. The Rialto, although aging, still had the charm of the classic movie "palaces" built in the 20's and 30's. I remember the small, but ornate lobby and the classic art deco carvings on the ceiling. We got there in plenty of time to get some provisions (twizzlers, popcorn, and the like) and still get great seats right in the center of the theater.
I remember the movie being genuinely funny with a zany Streisand playing off of straight man Segal. I didn't want to be too forward and have her catch me staring, so I kept my eyes straight ahead, focusing solely on the movie. However, at the same time, I was very attracted to my date. I had this kind of warm and fuzzy feeling when I was around her and I wanted to share that. But, how could I accomplish that and not be too forward where she might think I was aiming to take advantage? Remember, this was 1970 and we were fifteen! I know, if I could just hold her hand, she would feel it, too! But what about being rejected, I worried. What if my timing was off and I came on with the hand-holding bit a little too soon? I could blow my one and only chance. No. I would have to patient and, when I felt the timing was right, make my move. I would make a series of small moves to put myself in a position where I felt comfortable making the big one; actually holding her hand.
As the movie progressed, we laughed along and finished our treats. This was step #1 - our hands would be free. Next, I would to get my hand in a position close enough to her hand to gauge whether she would meet me half way and accept my advances or not. So, I slowly slid my hand over the arm rest and let my whole forearm slip into the space between our two seats. I was hoping that she would intuitively know that there was no other reason for my arm and hand to be there except to join hers. It took me at least three quarters of the movie to muster up the courage to get it there, but, finally, I was in position. Now, I would have to wait and see if my gesture would bear fruit. Gradually, slowly, gently, her arm slid down between our seats and was dangling right next to mine! She got the message and was responding. Still, I didn't want to seem to eager: I slowly engulfed her hand and gently squeezed it into mine. Now I could feel that warm and fuzzy feeling again, except this time it was even more intense, radiating all over my body. And I know that at that moment, she felt it, too. Of course, by this time there was only about five or ten minutes left in the movie! But that was enough. It would be five or ten minutes of the most innocent, honest, intense, and connected feelings that I ever had, or WOULD ever have. It was one, brief moment in time whose memory will last me my entire life. I have not - I cannot forget it.
When the movie ended, we lingered, hand in hand, until all of the final credits had rolled and the house lights came up. That was our cue to drop each other's hand and resume our normal, respectful roles as teenagers. We walked back up through the lobby and out into the light where her father was waiting to take us home.
Even though it was over forty years ago, I remember it as if it was yesterday: my first, true date. I had some grade school crushes and girl friends but this was to be my first "adult" date. It was 1970, I was fifteen and a sophomore in High School. I was a man now and was going to take a date to a movie for the first time without any kind of chaperon (of course, that was after her father dropped us off at the theater!). I had fallen for a shy girl in my own grade and, overcoming my own timidness when it came to girls, asked her if she wanted to go out on a date. To my mild surprise, she said, "yes". We decided to go to a weekend matinee. I have no idea why we choose a matinee instead of a more traditional Saturday evening date. Perhaps it had something to do with the transportation arrangements. But we did. The movie theater in our town (Fort Lee) had closed, so we would have to look for a theater elsewhere. We decided to see The Owl and The Pussycat at the Rialto Theater located on Main Street in Ridgefield Park, NJ. The movie today would be called a romantic comedy. Then it was known as a madcap farce. Anyway, it starred George Segal and Barbara Streisand as a woefully mismatched Manhattan couple who just might find true love if they could keep from killing one another. It had adult themes and situations - probably more than either one of us would let our parents know about! But, after all, we WERE adults (at least I saw us as such) and we should be seeing a film suitable for adults. The only, real problem was that neither one of us was old enough to drive! I remember her father, a big, jovial man, volunteering to take us. He liked good food and wine and knew of a place not far from the theater where he could have some lunch while he waited for us to emerge from the theater.
So, the plan was set and, on Saturday afternoon, put in motion. Her father had this huge, old Chrysler. I mean a family of five could live in this thing if they had to! I remember feeling so small as my date and I entered the cavernous back seat. Her father would act as chauffeur and drive alone in the front. It's about a fifteen minute drive from Fort Lee to Ridgefield Park, down Rte. 46 to the Main St. exit that would take us to the Rialto. Ridgefield Park was (and still is) in so many ways a typical, blue collar NJ working class town with a downtown area that time had mostly forgotten. The Rialto, although aging, still had the charm of the classic movie "palaces" built in the 20's and 30's. I remember the small, but ornate lobby and the classic art deco carvings on the ceiling. We got there in plenty of time to get some provisions (twizzlers, popcorn, and the like) and still get great seats right in the center of the theater.
I remember the movie being genuinely funny with a zany Streisand playing off of straight man Segal. I didn't want to be too forward and have her catch me staring, so I kept my eyes straight ahead, focusing solely on the movie. However, at the same time, I was very attracted to my date. I had this kind of warm and fuzzy feeling when I was around her and I wanted to share that. But, how could I accomplish that and not be too forward where she might think I was aiming to take advantage? Remember, this was 1970 and we were fifteen! I know, if I could just hold her hand, she would feel it, too! But what about being rejected, I worried. What if my timing was off and I came on with the hand-holding bit a little too soon? I could blow my one and only chance. No. I would have to patient and, when I felt the timing was right, make my move. I would make a series of small moves to put myself in a position where I felt comfortable making the big one; actually holding her hand.
As the movie progressed, we laughed along and finished our treats. This was step #1 - our hands would be free. Next, I would to get my hand in a position close enough to her hand to gauge whether she would meet me half way and accept my advances or not. So, I slowly slid my hand over the arm rest and let my whole forearm slip into the space between our two seats. I was hoping that she would intuitively know that there was no other reason for my arm and hand to be there except to join hers. It took me at least three quarters of the movie to muster up the courage to get it there, but, finally, I was in position. Now, I would have to wait and see if my gesture would bear fruit. Gradually, slowly, gently, her arm slid down between our seats and was dangling right next to mine! She got the message and was responding. Still, I didn't want to seem to eager: I slowly engulfed her hand and gently squeezed it into mine. Now I could feel that warm and fuzzy feeling again, except this time it was even more intense, radiating all over my body. And I know that at that moment, she felt it, too. Of course, by this time there was only about five or ten minutes left in the movie! But that was enough. It would be five or ten minutes of the most innocent, honest, intense, and connected feelings that I ever had, or WOULD ever have. It was one, brief moment in time whose memory will last me my entire life. I have not - I cannot forget it.
When the movie ended, we lingered, hand in hand, until all of the final credits had rolled and the house lights came up. That was our cue to drop each other's hand and resume our normal, respectful roles as teenagers. We walked back up through the lobby and out into the light where her father was waiting to take us home.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
TODAY'S MOMENT OF ZEN 7/7/12
words and photo by F LoBuono
I feel that relationships must be like competitive skiing. Now, I must qualify: I have never been a competitive skier. In fact, I don't ski at all! However, I have seen enough of it to get a feel for what it must take to not only compete, but to win. And that is, if you hold anything back for fear of crashing (and those crashes can be devastating), you are skiing not to lose rather than skiing to win. And you never will win. I'm sure that this is true not only for skiing but for most other competitive endeavors as well. It is certainly true for life in general and relationships in particular. If you are in a relationship that you want to be rewarding over the course of a lifetime, it is important not to hold anything back for fear of crashing. Crashes are inevitable. They come with the territory. But if you love not to lose rather than to win . . . Well, you know that you may not crash and burn but you will never achieve the satisfaction and peace of knowing that you played to win and you gave everything to it. There IS great comfort in knowing that. And who knows - you may even achieve that elusive state of bliss knowing that your partner feels the same way. I do know that, at least for me, there can be no other way.
Always play life to win, rather than not to lose.
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