Saturday, January 31, 2015

Today's FFF FrankieFunFact 2/1/2015

BIG RED
How many toes does the average domestic cat have?

18: Five on each of their front paws and four on each of their back.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Today's MOZEN The Blizzard That Wasn't 1/29/2015

Words and photo by F LoBuono
Alright. So, it was the Blizzard That Wasn't. Weather forecasters had predicated yet another Storm of the Century with fierce winds and enough snow to last until May. The City would be crippled for days. Groceries flew off the shelves as quickly as a flock of startled crows off a power line. Roads were closed and public transportation shut down. Even the venerable New York City Subway System would be stopped. Personally, I can't recall the last time that happened (History tells us it has actually happened on two other occasions).

And, then, it fizzled. The storm stayed further out to sea, slamming New England with copious amounts of the white stuff while sparring New York almost entirely. But, the damage was already done - as a precaution, an emergency was declared and the City was closed. And I loved it! The world's most frenetic city took on a completely different pace. The streets, normally clogged with traffic, were so empty one could walk freely down the middle. And, it was quiet - almost eerily so. The only sounds heard were the howling of the wind, the occasional siren, and the plows clearing whatever snow there was off the streets.

There is an inexorable force to the streets of New York. Walking can feel like being on a conveyor belt. It's as if an invisible power is carrying you along.  It simply cannot be resisted. However, on days (or nights) after a blizzard, even one that wasn't, the streets of the world's  greatest city are YOURS. You set the pace. You are a Prince of the City. It's as if this whole, huge, bustling metropolis exists solely for you. Tarry if you like and think that Manhattan, this mad Manhattan that we've come to know, was once a wild and isolated island.

The calm AFTER the storm didn't last long. It never does - even when there is a real blizzard - and this one was far from the Snowmaggedon predicted. Like a giant centipede that was knocked on its back, the City eventually righted itself and got back in gear - running on hundreds of legs. It was back to business in, well, a New York minute. But, it sure was nice while it lasted.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Today's MOZEN: Clinging to Life 1/25/2015

Words and photo by F LoBuono
On a bitterly cold winter's morning I walked, as I often do, to the small riverside park at the end of my block. The park provides a sweeping vista of the Hudson at the Tappan Zee. It was a spectacular sunrise and I wanted to make some photos. I made a few of the emerging sun when I noticed something very curious at the water's edge. The large rocks at the shore line were covered in ice crystals. They looked like delicate glass spiders. But, perhaps, even more remarkably, interspersed between the crystals were these tiny, succulent plants. I thought it odd because most succulent species are associated with tropical climates. Still, there they were, literally clinging to the rocks - clinging to life. There was no soil to give them purchase. They were exposed to all of the cruel elements life at the water's edge in the height of winter can bring. Yet, they were not just surviving, but thriving. Where there is a will to live, there is a way to survive.

Life is precious, in all its forms. Great and small. And, we find it, often, in the most unlikely places. Respect it. All of it. Always.


Today's Photo Album.










Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Today's FrankieFunFact. 1/20/2015

Words and photo by F LoBuono
Generally speaking, although there are many variables, According to WebMD, the old adage that dogs age at a rate of 7 to 1 as compared to humans is more or less accurate. The size and breed of the dog makes the greatest difference in life span. For example, a small dog that is 10 years old (literally) can be said to be 60 years old by human standards - a large dog would be 66.

The end result is that they live a much shorter life than we do - so, love 'em a lot all of the time!



Sunday, January 18, 2015

Today's MOZEN: Let's Duke It Out

Word and photo F LoBuono
Is there no hope for enlightenment? Is there no way to shine a light on ignorance,bigotry, cruelty, hatred, and intolerance - one that blazes so brightly as to burn the evil away?

Based on current events, it sure doesn't seem possible.

Even when someone wants to do something right it seems to get turned into something so wrong.

In response to the recent murder of seventeen innocent people in France at the hands of Islamic terrorists, Duke University decided to use the bell tower of the Duke Chapel as a minaret for the traditional call to Muslims for noon prayer. About five percent of Duke's students are Muslim (about 700 students).  In a column for the student paper, Christy Lohr Sapp, Duke's associate dean for religious life, said "This small token will provide a platform for a truer voice to resonate: a voice that challenges the media stereotypes of Muslims, a voice of wisdom, a voice of prayer, and a voice of peace."

Sounds great, right? A call for peace and reconciliation, right? Muslims finally standing shoulder to shoulder with their "infidel" brothers denouncing violence and hatred. It's about time, right?

Well, WRONG!!

It didn't take long for the NAY SAYERS to rear their ugly heads and have their negative voices heard. Led by Franklin Graham, son of famed evangelist Billy Graham, a coalition was created to stop the event. Graham was outraged and urged alumni and donors to withhold their support until it was cancelled. He claimed that Duke was promoting Sharia law "in the name of Pluralism."

Of course, he missed the point which was not to promote "pluralism" but to extol understanding and tolerance. He slapped away a hand that was extended in a long needed gesture of peace. It was meant to be INCLUSIVE. Muslim students have met in the basement of the chapel for their noon prayers (Jummah) for years - and will continue to do so. They just wanted to share the fullness of their faith with all. Is THAT so terrible?

Well, according to the fundamentalist Christians, is is! They sited atrocities committed against Christians at the hands of Muslims - forgetting the centuries when it was the other way around as reason. They sought justification because Muslim fanatics, led by ISIS, are persecuting Christians and imposing Sharia around the world. And these things ARE happening. However, to take a gesture of peace and understanding, like the scenario at Duke, and place it in the same category is not only foolish, it is counterproductive. All it would do is create more paranoia, more mistrust, and more hate. In fact, it is no different in practice than the intolerance of those they wish to compare them to. They should read and follow their own doctrine!

Siting the strong opposition to it, and threats of physical violence, Duke relented and cancelled the event.

I am not a "religious" person. In fact, for reasons like the one we are discussing here, I am usually against most organized religion. Most (if not all) say, "do it my way, or the highway". That's not for me. It fosters and attitude of exclusion instead of inclusion. And, so it is the case here. Those who would have INCLUDED are now being EXCLUDED. And, all of it in the name of GOD. Perhaps, in the end, the only way is to forget about the chapels, forget the minarets, forget the prayers, and IMAGINE a world where there's no heaven, above us only sky . . . .




Friday, January 16, 2015

Today's FrankieFunFact 1/16/2015



Words and photo by F LoBuono

The name of the borough that, arguably, is most synomymous with the City of New York is Manhattan. The origin of the name is believed to come from the Delaware Indian Nation. In their language it was known as mannahata or hilly island. Some translate the name as small island, or just the island.



Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Today's FrankieFunFact 1/14/2015

WWII Navy Hellcat Fighter
The whole nine yards is a phrase used to describe maximum effort, or giving without reserving anything. For example, if one gives an extravagant gift to someone, people may say, "wow, he went the whole nine yards with that one!"

Since the game of football is measured in "yards," one might think that the term came from that sport. But, they would be wrong. It's actually borrowed from the military. During WWII, fighter planes were equipped with 27 feet of .50 caliber ammunition used in their machine guns. If the pilot were to engage the enemy and use all of his ammunition he would have used the full 27 feet or gone the whole nine yards.

Today's MOZEN: A Meditation On The Significance of Fire 1/14/2015

Words and photo by F LoBuono
Fire has a dual nature. It can destroy in a most cruel and complete manor. But, it also provides us with light and warmth. As a species we could not have completed our accession to mankind until we harnessed its might. We are deeply connected to fire.

I think, perhaps, that is why, when we find ourselves within its warm embrace, we are mesmerized. Whether in a group or by ourselves, in fine voice or in total silence, we stare wide-eyed into the dancing flames. For me, a true fan of warm weather, time in front of a fireplace is one of the few pleasures that winter has to offer.

With this in mind, I found myself in front of one that I had going in the small fireplace at my house. It was a particularly cold day and the comfort provided by the raging fire felt especially good on my face. I folded my arms across the mantle, forming a cradle for my head. From here, I could stand directly in front of the fire and peer down into it. I found myself completely relaxed, absorbing the warmth right into my weary bones. The sound of the crackling fire made the only sound. The rich, deep smell of the burning wood filled my nostrils with a most pleasant odor. I was truly home.

With the trance-like effect now created by that atmosphere, I had the luxury of allowing my mind to wonder. Of course, I would never pass up an opportunity to take such a trip. I began to think: why are we SO connected to fire? What is it within its power that brings us to an almost altered state of consciousness? As I tossed a fresh log into the fire, I watched in silence as the flames overtook and began to engulf it. Eventually, it too became part of the greater fire. It was releasing a tremendous amount of heat and light and it felt so good. Why can't I take my eyes away?

It was then that it came to me: Beyond the obvious benefits, we are drawn to the fire because it is a metaphor for life and death. We are as the wood that we use in our fireplaces. Like that wood, we spend our entire lives storing up the energy we take in from the sun. from our food, and from our very lives themselves. After a certain time taking and storing, it is time for all of that energy to be released. In the case of the wood, tens of thousands of sunny days and hundreds of rain storms endured are now being transformed into a new form - that of heat on light. So, in a sense, the cycle is maintained. The tree from which the wood was taken is not gone. Rather, it has been recreated as pure energy.

I believe that it is the same for us. At the end of our lives, we don't "disappear". Our form just changes. Like the wood in the fire, when we pass, we release a tremendous amount of heat and light into the universe. We are no longer "wood" but a new state - that of energy. And, that energy continues in new, various forms for all eternity. All that remains from our previous state, like the wood, are ashes. So, in a sense, that is our immortality. Perhaps, that is what we are experiencing within the warmth of a fire - why we are so connected to it.

After a few more moments of self-indulgence (and another bourbon), I needed to enter yet another altered state of consciousness called sleep.


Monday, January 12, 2015

Today's FrankieFunFact 1/15/2015

Henry Hudson
In his search to discover the legendary Northwest Passage, Henry Hudson made three, mostly successful trips to the New World, the first in 1607. During his third and final voyage aboard his flagship Discovery, his crew, fed up with Hudson's tyrannical rule, mutineed. Hudson, along with his teenage son and seven loyal crew members, was cast adrift in the bay that would eventually bear his name. They were never heard from again. That was June, 1611.

Today's FrankieFunFact 1/14/2015

Words and photo by F LoBuono
Sarah Rapalje, daughter of Catalina Trico and Joris Rapalje, is considered to be the first person of European decent born in what would become New York (it was New Netherland at the time). The year was 1625.  In 1639, she married the overseer of a large tobacco plantation on the land that would become Greenwhich Village. They had many decendents that spread over much of New York State. The name still exists today. A street in Fishkill, NY is named in the families honor.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Today's Mostly True Short Story: The Scrimmage.

Words and photo by F LoBuono
The Scrimmage

Since it was preseason and this was not an official game, the stands were virtually empty. No marching bands blared school fight songs. No cheerleaders where present to root on their teams. The sounds of the quarterback barking his signals went uninterrupted by cheers or jeers. At the snap of the ball the collision of the players smashing into one another reminded me of the sound of a steel door slamming. Finally, whistles blowing, the coaches would stop the action and rush in to either congratulate or admonish a player, depending on the outcome of the play. It was a bizarre, violent ballet. I guess that’s what I loved about it. Despite the violence, there was also an inherent beauty within the game. It’s this contrast, I think, that first drew me to the game of football, and still does.

The action would be a welcomed break from the monotony of training camp by allowing us to finally compete against another team instead of each other. It would be a “controlled” scrimmage and not a “real” game, i.e. coaches would be allowed on the field to provide instruction wherever, and whenever, needed. I was not scheduled to start but was slated for some playing time during the latter part of the contest. Because of my success as a freshman (I was a starter on both offense and defense), the coaches wanted to see what potential I might have on the varsity level. I was long (almost 5’10”), lean (about 140 lbs.), and cat-quick. Man, I could really run then. And, I was intensely competitive. Despite my slim physique, I was anxious to prove that I belonged with the Big Boys.

As the scrimmage began, I actually got to watch the action unfold from behind our defense, rather than from the sidelines. It provided an interesting perspective. The coaches would point out, in real time, why a play was successful or not, depending on what they had observed. Personally, I marveled at the speed and aggression of the players. It was all happening much faster than it had in practice, which in turn was much faster than what I had experienced as a freshman player. I couldn't help but think: these guys are really good. Was I REALLY ready to compete? I was soon to find out.

After about an hour of intense action, most of the front line players would yield the field to the younger ones, including me. The coaches called for me to “get my helmet on and be ready to get in there”! My heart began to race and my heart pound. This was everything that I had trained for. I had worked out with weights all summer and designed a special diet of mostly protein shakes to prepare myself for the rigors of the season. I had increased my weight and strength drastically. I was as ready as I was going to be. I buckled my chin strap, focused my energy, and waited for the command. Finally, it came: “LoBuono, GET IN THERE”!

Without hesitation, I sprinted to take my position in the defensive backfield. I was going to play strong safety. My main responsibilities would be to cover the tight end on passing plays and support the run (i.e. tackle) on the others. In addition to speed and strength, the position required a certain technique to play it successfully. This is where the coaching came in. And, I was well coached. The man responsible for play of the defensive backfield was “Coach Larry”. A former player himself, Coach Larry might be best described as a refrigerator with a head, i.e. he’s thick. Down deep, he is a kind and caring soul. On the surface, he is an exploding volcano. His speech is so animated that it usually involved sharing a little of his spittle with you. He couldn’t help it. He loved the game, loved coaching, and it showed. Instructions came out of his frothing mouth in torrents – watch for the screen, watch for the draw, watch for the square-out, watch for the square-in, watch for the short pass, watch for the long pass - just watch for EVERYTHING!

I buckled my chin strap, inserted my mouthpiece and made the final adjustments to my equipment to assume my position. Coach Larry, as was his custom, grabbed me by my facemask and, placing his face an inch or so from mine, added one last instruction: don’t forget, if the corner forces the running back inside, I want you there to make the tackle. I understood- if the offense ran an end sweep, the corner back would prevent the running back from turning the end of the line and force him back into the defense where I would be waiting. We were setting a trap.

I charged into the defensive huddle where my teammates were planning their next alignment. Now, the huddle was a mixture of veteran players and rookies, it was easy to spot the difference - the uniforms of the veterans, having already played most of the scrimmage, were streaked with sweat and caked with mud. The rookies’, not yet bloodied, were shinning like new dimes. We broke the huddle with a hardy clap and a unifying shout of DEFENSE. I took my position as the last man – literally. They don’t call the position safety for nothing. No one was to get passed me. I liked having that responsibility.

The quarterback barked his signals, Red 19, Red 19, Hut, Hut, Hut, and the ball was snapped. It was to be an end sweep! He pitched the ball to the running back who was circling behind him. The back made a mad dash for the sideline. As he reached the end of the line, our cornerback, doing his job, was right there to force him away from the sideline and back into the field of play. I saw the whole thing unfold – just as the coaches had diagrammed it on the blackboard. I was ready. I placed myself at an angle where I thought the runner would be forced to turn. I had calculated perfectly. He was heading right for me! I prepared myself to deliver the blow and stop the play. I crouched into a tight ball, turning my legs into steel-like springs. I flexed every muscle in my body. I was going to stop this running play cold. Perfect. Then – WHAM!!!

I’m not sure how much time had actually elapsed, but the next thing I remembered was lying on my back, looking straight up at the sky with Coach Larry straddling me, screaming, OH MY GOD, SON! YOU’VE GOT TO PROTECT YOURSELF OUT THERE. YOU ARE GOING TO GET KILLED! All the while, little drops of his saliva were spraying all over my prone body. I was so confused. I had no idea what happened. One second I was ready to play the hero in my first varsity action, and the next I’m wondering not only where I am, but who I am! When Coach asked if I knew who I was, my response was “Monday”. Apparently (I had to actually be told this), just as I thought I had set up the running back for a big hit, one of the offensive lineman was doing the same to me. In my tunnel vision to tackle the running back, I was not aware of all that was going on around me – you know, the BIG picture. The offensive lineman, apparently, was. When he saw the opportunity, he took it and knocked me into an altered state of consciousness.

A few moments later (it felt like an hour), I was able to somewhat regain my composure and I began to pull myself together, wits first. Coach Larry helped me to my feet where I readjusted by equipment. I was hit so hard that I had to practically redress myself. Coach Larry had backed off a bit and now had his arm around me as we walked off the field. He spoke more gently and, again, admonished me to always be aware of my surroundings on the field. He didn't want to see me get hurt.

After a few plays I was able to regain my composure and return to action. I overcame that embarrassment and many others to actually have a decent career playing football on the high school, college, and semi-professional level. I even went on to coach it for a time – always remembering that on the field, as in life, you must be prepared for the unexpected. Things don’t necessarily unfold the way we want them to. Life has a way of knocking you down. It’s going to happen. It’s the getting up that counts the most.


Today's MOZEN: We Can Do It If We Try - Eliminating Hunger

Words and photo by F LoBuono
This is absolutely no good reason for anyone, anywhere in the world, to go hungry. None. It's not that we lack the food but, rather, the will to make it happen. Why? Why? The only answer is greed and laziness.

The first step is to raise your awareness. So, the next time you sit down for a sumptuous meal, take a moment to reflect on those who have little or NO food. Then, get off your asses and MAKE IT HAPPEN. When you find yourself in the market, consider buying an extra can of soup, a package of pasta, or even a can of beans and donating it a local food pantry. I know some of us struggle to make ends meet, but, if you can, a few pennies spent can make a huge difference in another's life. You don't have to be a millionaire to help. In fact, it's the little things that make the biggest difference. AND, it'll make you feel really good for doing it. :)

Let's eradicate hunger. We can do it if we try!!


Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Today's MOZEN: Might Does Not Make Right 1/6/2015

By F LoBuono
The other day I picked up my copy of "The Life and Selected Writings of Thomas Jefferson". I had read a good deal of it years ago but never finished all of it - it's pretty weighty! Anyway, it was lying on top of a stack of other books and it just caught my eye for no particular reason. I decided to pick it up and randomly selected a page. This is what I found on page 321. It's an excerpt from his Inauguration Speech March 4, 1801:

A rising nation, spread over a wise and fruitful land, traversing all the seas with rich production of their industry , engaged in commerce with nations who feel power and forget right . . . 

Now, of course, at the time Jefferson was writing this, America was a fledgling nation, barely 25 years old. So, he was writing from the perspective that WE were the little guy, struggling to find our place among great nations. Well, 214 years later, the shoe is on the other foot. We are now the big guy with the big clout - the BIGGEST clout. And it's been that way for some time now. Many would say that we are the ones who feel power and forget right. At times, they certainly have a point.

That's why we must remember what Jefferson said and apply that principle to everything that we do as a Country. For example, we recently debated the use of torture against our enemies - those who have and would cause us great harm. Many say if it can save lives, it must be done. Others cry that torture is inconsistent with our moral stance as a Country and cannot be accepted under any circumstance. I am among the later. We must never become one of the nations who feel power and forget right. It defines us as a Nation. It was true when it was founded over 200 years ago and it still rings true today - but only if we strive to make right over might - always.


Sunday, January 4, 2015

Mario Cuomo: A Memory

Photo AP, Words F LoBuono
1/3/15
Mario Cuomo: A Memory

It was my first big assignment. If my memory serves me correctly, it was 1984 or 85. I had recently taken a position with the local cable company, TKR Cable, as a producer/reporter. As a public service, cable television companies, which were in their infancy, were offering exclusive coverage of local events that would then be cablecast on their own channel. In the case of TKR Cable it was Local Channel 30. On that day, New York Governor Mario Cuomo was scheduled to speak at the Holiday Inn in Suffern, NY. He would be addressing the Rockland County Republican Parties’ annual luncheon crowd. My job was to shoot his speech and, if possible, see if I could get the Governor to answer a question or two after he spoke.

I was excited for the assignment from a number of standpoints. First, I wanted to prove myself in my new position. This would provide me with an opportunity to do so. Second, Cuomo, at the time, was at the height of his power. He was a rising star in the Democratic Party and had the reputation as a spell-binding speaker. I also admired him personally. I found quite a bit in his personal narrative to relate to. He was the son of working class Italian immigrants, an athlete, a progressive, and a scholar. I liked what he stood for and how he conducted himself. If I had a role model besides my father, it was Mario Cuomo.

TKR Cable couldn’t have been smaller. The whole production department consisted of three people. So, needless to say, I would be handling this assignment by myself. I grabbed my camera, tripod, and microphone and headed to The Holidome (The Holiday Inn’s banquet hall) in Suffern. I set myself up in the back and waited for the crowd and the Governor to arrive. Eventually, the hall filled with, by my estimates, about 400 people, all eagerly awaiting Cuomo’s arrival. When he did, he bounded up to the podium to thunderous applause. I was immediately struck by his bearing and demeanor. He surveyed the crowd, basking in the adulation as his did. But, I did not sense arrogance in his gaze. It was more like supreme confidence. He knew they were there to see HIM and that he would not disappoint.

Now, remember; this was the Rockland County REPUBLICAN Party luncheon and they were there to listen to the PROGESSIVE, Democratic governor of New York. Oil and water, right? Wrong! Right from the beginning, he won the crowd. That was the immense power of Mario Cuomo. He was direct. He was honest. He was witty. He was charming. He was fearless. He was EVERYTHING you wanted a leader to be - supremely capable and confident. He knew it and he made YOU know it, too! He held the crowd in the palm of his hand. He made them laugh and, most importantly, he made them think. Even though there were hundreds in attendance, it was as if he spoke to each and every one individually. I found it awesome.

After his speech was over, the Governor started to make his way towards the exit. I broke down my camera as quickly as I could so that I could rush over and attempt to get him to answer a question before he left. When I finally caught up with Cuomo he was surrounded by his security detail, entourage, and a slew of reporters. He was striding towards the exit, brushing off all of the questions he was being peppered with.  As a young, unknown reporter I thought that I certainly had no chance of him answering one of mine. But, certainly, it couldn’t hurt to try. I blurted out my question - something concerning his stance on public education (as I recall). Suddenly, he stopped, turned, and walked back in my direction. My heart raced. It was so deliberate. I wasn’t sure if he was pleased by my question or annoyed with it. There I was, camera and mic in hand, alone, when he stepped right in front of me. He answered my question coolly, calmly, and directly, never losing eye contact.  As with his speech, he spoke to me as if there was no one else in the room. I found it extraordinary. After a complete answer, he smiled, turned on his heel, and strode out the door the same way he came in – in complete command. I have not forgotten. And I never will. In the thirty-plus years since that encounter, I have photographed or interviewed many of the most influential people in the world – from Hollywood to D.C. – from Angelina Jolie to Barack Obama and none have been more impressive than Mario Cuomo. None.