Today's MOZEN: A Walk Along The River.

Words and Photos by F LoBuono

New York is America's largest city. It's more than two times larger than Los Angeles and nearly four times as large as Chicago. To outsiders she is big, bold, and often intimidating. And they would be justified in feeling that way. But to anyone who knows New York, really knows her, she is actually a huge amalgamation of many small towns and neighborhoods.  So, the City provides us with an endless source of change, diversity, and challenge. In Manhattan alone, there are Inwood, Little Domenica, Harlem, Spanish Harlem, Sugar Hill, Yorkville, Germantown, Chinatown, Little Italy, Hell's Kitchen, Soho,Greenwich Village, Chelsea, the Meat Packing District, and so many others!  Each neighborhood has its own distinct flavor, creating the a bouillabaisse that makes New York the greatest city in the world.

One of the most interesting of these neighborhoods, and one that is frequently overlooked, is the Lower East Side, particularly near The South Street Seaport, Kips Bay, and the Manhattan side of the Brooklyn Bridge. As the names suggest, the whole area still has the feel (and some of the look) of its maritime past. In the 19th Century, it was home to one of the busiest seaports in the world. A healthy whaling industry was also located here. Herman Melville wrote his classic Moby Dick while living within its environs. Now, the only ships that actually use it are the ferries that transport people to and from work, mostly at the near-by Financial District (yet another neighborhood). It was once also home to the famous, and most fascinating, Fulton Fish Market. The market still exists but has moved to more modern, trendy digs. However, the building that housed the market still stands. Many of the 19th Century homes and warehouses also still exist and many have been transformed into upscale restaurants and apartments. Still, you can get the feel of what it may have been like when it was a bustling port and trading center. It has picked up some glitz, but it still retains some of the grit that keeps it intriguing. A few years back, developers turned The South Street Seaport into a Disney-like mall of high-end shops and restaurants, similar to Baltimore's Inner Harbor Project. Although it attracted its share of tourists, it was generally shunned by New Yorkers. After a successful run of a number of years, it closed and is currently being redesigned.

Near the Brooklyn Bridge, where the flow of the river meets the tides of the harbor, forces are created that are so violent it is known as Hell's Gate. I think that these waters are a perfect metaphor for the City itself: always churning, always moving, always flowing. I love to watch the sea birds ride those turbulent currents and dive for the fish swimming below. Because the area is located on the east side of Manhattan, it is a most wonderful place to arrive at early. In this way, you can witness the breath-taking sunrises over Brooklyn and the magnificent bridges that span the river with such power and grace. Of course, the greatest of these is the Brooklyn. Its massive yet beautifully shaped towers and its spider-like webbing of support cable make it one of the most recognizable structures in the world. It is truly a fitting and lasting tribute to the City. But there is another bridge that lends beauty to the area; the often overlooked Manhattan Bridge. Made almost entirely of iron and steel, the beauty of the towers, forged to be not only strong but beautiful celebrate form and function to make the bridge a work of industrial art.

If you walk along the river's edge, make sure that you look west, back into the City. When you do, you will be able to see what New York is really about - and that is CHANGE. New York is always morphing into something new. It's one of the things that gives the City its frenetic pace. Yes, it has a long and glorious history and it celebrates that history. There are many examples right here of the role New York played in this Country's founding. Federal Hall, where Washington was inaugurated as our first President, is located just a short walk away. But, it is also always finding ways to move forward, to be on the cutting edge. This is clearly evidenced when you look west. The outer edge of buildings are obviously from the early and mid-19th Century. Made mostly of brick brought by barge about thirty miles down-river from the village of Haverstraw, they form a sort of facade representing the old New York. However, as you move away from the outer layer and towards the center, the whole look and, therefore, feel changes. The low-slung, brick and mortar buildings are replaced by towering, glittering steel and glass monoliths. The Freedom Tower, the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere, is just a few city blocks away. Its highly polished steel and glass frame gleams in the morning sunrise to dominate the landscape now, the ever new, New York.

But New York and its neighborhoods are not just about buildings. It's about people. And each neighborhood has its own ethnic make-up. As you walk along the river, you start to notice the great majority of the people are Asian. Hearing them speak, we can ascertain that they are most likely Chinese immigrants whom live in nearby Chinatown. One of New York's largest ethnic neighborhoods, Chinatown has expanded greatly in recent years and now occupies a good portion of lower Manhattan. If you go early enough, which I like to do, you can see many of the older Chinese all along the river's edge practicing their traditional method of exercise: Tai Chi. A form of martial art, tai chi combines elements of physical movement with a strong spiritual connection. The practitioners execute the routine in what appears to be super-slow motion, exaggerating the the length of time to complete each punch or kick. This helps to bring the focus of the movement to a place not only within the body but within the mind and spirit, as well. It is incredibly beautiful to observe, especially in this setting. One morning, I watched, mesmerized, as an older Chinese man practiced this ancient art within the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Small in stature, his body was wiry and perfectly proportioned. He appeared to be in his late 70s and was totally focused on his tai chi. I'm sure that he never even noticed me watching. And, that's the point of tai chi. He was completely within himself. Traffic was flying by. Ferries were docking. People on there way to work were hustling past. None of it mattered. I watched spellbound as he threw a "punch" that was so slow and exaggerated it seemed to me to take about twenty minutes to complete. He was so connected to himself and his surroundings that it made me feel as if he were part of the earth instead of just standing on it.

New York is not for the faint of heart. At times, it can be downright brutal. But, at others, it is unparalleled in its ability to reward those with the guts to make it here. It offers opportunities in ways that no other city can match. Yes, it can be an assault on the senses. But, it can also offer treasures that are sublime. And they can be found virtually anywhere in this city. You just have to have the tenacity to find them.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: City Boy 6/21/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

One of the most hackneyed phrases in the world is this: you can take the boy out of the city. But you can't take the city out of the boy. Yep, if you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times (yet ANOTHER hackneyed phrase - I got a million of 'em). They are so overused that whenever we hear them again we are bound to roll our eyes in mock annoyance. But, like cliches, they become so because there is always a certain modicum of truth within them. We somehow find them appropriate. Here's a personal example. A few years back, I was assigned to cover some wild fires that were ravaging San Diego County in Southern California. I flew from New York to San Diego and went right to work with my reporter on the fire lines. It was long, difficult, and sometimes dangerous work with little time for any rest, much less recreation. My reporter and I chased those wild fires (when they weren't chasing us) all over San Diego County for days. When the fires were finally reported as under control, we were able to scale back our coverage, giving me the opportunity for a little "R and R" before catching a flight back home.

As is my custom, rest and relaxing usually involves walking, especially if I'm in a place that's worthy of exploration. For me, the only way to really get to know a place is to walk it. To know it you have to feel it. And to feel it you have to sense it, literally. You have to smell it and taste it. And the only way to truly do that is to immerse yourself in it by walking all around the place. I do so wherever I go and whenever I can. So, with the few hours I had to myself I decided to walk around the fine city of San Diego, California.

I had been there once before as a young man. A brief stop in San Diego was part of a cross country adventure a friend of mine and I shared in the mid '70s. I didn't have a very strong recollection of the place except that it was a pleasant city with a mild "temperament", like its weather. Besides, it had been so long since my return, the city surely must have changed. I endeavored to find out. I dressed as I always do for informal walking on warm days: cargo-style shorts, a tea shirt, usually with cutoff sleeves (for extra sun), sandals or walking shoes (depending on the terrain) and some type of lid. Down the elevator and out on the street I went, with no particular plan except to see what I might discover.

Someone had mentioned that the old part of the city, known as The Gas Lamp District, was were I would find the most interesting neighborhood. So, with a general idea of how I might get there, I set out for that as a destination. I was walking at a good pace, enjoying the warm California sun on my face and remembered thinking that after the tense nature of the assignment, it was a pleasure to walk with no other purpose except just that; walking. The street was relatively uncrowded and I enjoyed the feeling of freedom that I was experiencing. I'm sure that my gait reflected my mood . I was striding without a care in the world, sort of like I owned the place (think John Travolta in the opening sequence of "Saturday Night Fever"). Suddenly, I was aware of a something: two men across the street seemed to have taken notice of me. From their body language it appeared to me that they had seen me and were discussing something about me. I was not overly concerned. They did not seem threatening. Besides, I was too busy "owning" the street. But, as the City boy that I am, part of staying safe in any situation in ANY city is a sense of what is going on around you. So, I was aware of them. After a short time, I saw that one of the men crossed the street and was matching my pace, attempting to even up with me. Eventually, he caught up. I was surprised but not alarmed. He spoke up. Sir, do you mind if I ask you a question? Sure, why not?, I responded. Where do you come from?, he inquired. Well, I'm from New York. Without hesitation and ignoring me, he yelled across the street to his friend, I TOLD YOU.  I TOLD YOU. IT'S WRITTEN ALL OVER HIM!

They then continued on their way and me on mine.

Well, yes, my friends, I guess it is true after all; you can take the boy out of the city . . .

http://youtu.be/7cov0bmfO_w

Today's MOZEN. Father's Day 2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

It may be strange to some, but I have a lot of ambivalence concerning Father's Day. I love it because I loved my own father so. He was a kind, loving, man who believed in education, reading, and sports. He also enjoyed babies and dancing. And he loved his family and children more than anything else. He was happy to show it too - all of the time. When I was a young man and had moved out of my parent's home, he would call me almost every single night and say the same thing: Frankie, want to come over? The Yankees are on and your mother is cooking. You could do your laundry if you want. My father, more than any other person, also taught me the great lesson of being a Renaissance Man. He believed that in whatever you did, you'd better do it to the best of your ability. I love thinking about him and those times.

However, I also hate it because I miss him. For a romantic at heart (I got that from him, too), I'm not very nostalgic. I read and enjoy the messages posted from others bringing their departed dads' memories to life. But, that's not me. I keep him much closer to my heart and hold it privately. I can't even find any photos of the two of us together. It's strange for someone as full of shit as I am to be that way. But I am. The day can also get me down because it reminds of my own failure as a stepfather. And, unfortunately, I failed miserably. My stepsons and I don't even speak anymore - for too many reasons to address here and now. Let it suffice to say I failed and leave it at that.

So, here I am, sitting in the sun, trying to relax after working the graveyard shift last night and I'm just feeling mighty low: no one loves me! It's an exquisite day and it just doesn't seem to matter. Well, all of a sudden, a male cardinal appears out of no where and flies straight towards me before veering off to a nearby tree. It was only one bird and although plentiful around these parts, I haven't seen one in a while. It was then that I remembered something I read on Facebook: Cardinals are really the souls of someone dear who has departed. They return to remind us that they still love and watch over us.

Well, how about that? Guess who came by for a visit and to share some light. As Chief Dan George says in his brilliant portrayal of a Native American shaman in the epic western adventure, "Little Big Man": sometimes the magic works and sometimes it doesn't. Today it worked.

Happy Father's Day, dad and all dads. Today is YOUR day. Enjoy it.

Totday's PHOTO GALLERY: NY, NY. Day and Night. Eastside and West.

Today's Mozen: The Power of Intuition.

Words and photo by F LoBuono

In a conversation with a friend the other day, the word intuition came up. He mentioned that he had recently read a most interesting article that described a study to discover if there was an actual process that can explain what we call intuition. For most of us, generally, it means a feeling that we know something even when the physical parameters normally used to make an accurate judgement are lacking. It happens all of the time. All of us have either navigated towards or away from something without actually knowing the REAL reason why. We say, well, it just felt right. Or, perhaps, it didn't. And, often when further information lacks, that's enough. Afterwards, we must trust in our intuition.

However, even feelings are triggered by actual events, information, and a process. It involves neurons, synapses, as well as chemical and electrical interactions. Thinking is totally connected to feeling and vice-versa.  And nothing happens without process. So, what then, is involved with the creation of the feeling of intuition? According to the study, despite the rather nebulous connotation often associated with the word itself, it is a rather logical one. With every encounter, our brains begin working immediately (at least they do for most of us!). We are taking in tons of information from our senses. We see. We hear. We smell, etc.. Then, we put them all together to begin to form a response. However, as our brains are taking in all of that sensory information, that little thing called the subconscious is also working overtime. Behind the scenes, our brains are filling in all of the the missing details, based on our prior experiences. Everything that we know from the past is included in the decision making of the present. This certainly makes sense on a scientific level. When our subconscious creates a feeling stronger than the one our conscious mind is providing, we get intuition. That's why we often call it our 6th Sense. It lies within the realm beyond logic. Some might even call it mystic. We know without really knowing.

Some of us are more in touch, if you will, with our subconscious. For some reason, they seem particularly attuned to what we also call our "inner voice". We all hear it, but only a few truly listen to it. Most of us prefer to make our conclusions based on "real" things - things that we can taste, or smell, or hear, or touch. But, for some,what they feel is as important as what they know.

One such person is my mother, Stella. I have often written of her exploits here, in my blog. In fact, I have so often that I'm sure many of you who have never met her may feel like they actually know her anyway. I do so because I find her to be such an exceptional person in so many ways. And none of her powers are greater then that of her intuition. It is so strong in her that it is much more than natural. It is supernatural. It fact, it's downright spiritual.

Here's a classic example: The other day we were riding together in my car when our conversation wound to an old family friend. I had not seen her in a while. I asked if Stella knew how she was doing. Stella's response was that she was doing fine and, despite tragedy in her life, was still as pleasant a person as she was as a little girl when we first met her. We discussed how that tragedy, (losing a child to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome or SIDS) must have been a devastating loss. Stella then went on to tell me something that she never really shared with anyone. When the baby was born, a boy, as a courtesy, our friend brought him to meet Stella. Of course, Stella's strong maternal instinct was to hold and cuddle the boy which she did with immediate joy. However, upon receiving the boy, Stella felt something deep within her. Her intuition told her that something was wrong. Very wrong. Stella described the sensation to me: Frankie, the second I held that baby I knew that we was not long for this world. It was like he was not even there. He had no weight. No presence. It was like he was an angel! Like an angel . . . There was no fear in her voice when she described how she felt. It was more of a deep level of understanding that some things are meant to be and some are not. She could not explain why it was to be that way with this baby boy. She just knew it. And she accepted it. Within a short period of time after that encounter, that baby boy was gone.

Stella has never told my friend what she experienced. She has always felt that it would be too painful. I'm not so sure. Stella was so secure in her intuition that he was not to be of this world, at least at that time, and she had no fear. Her intuition told her that it would all be all right in the end. And it was. My friend has gone on with her life and raised three, beautiful girls. But, that's Stella. She has always taught me that if right thinking is in place, i.e. that your thought PROCESS is always honest and laced with integrity, you should always trust you intuition. And I do.