Today's MOZEN

Photo F LoBuono

We may never be strong enough to be

entirely nonviolent in thought, word and 

deed. 

But we must keep nonviolence as our goal 

and make strong progress towards it.

Mahatma Gandhi

Today's MOZEN: Equal Justice Under Law. Finally!

Words and photo by F LoBuono

I must say that reading Justice Anthony Kennedy's majority opinion for the United States Supreme Court ruling that extends equal justice under the law to so-called same sex marriage left me in tears - tears of joy! It was just brilliant. Here, a mostly conservative, self-proclaimed IRISH CATHOLIC BOY from Sacramento, Ca. reached deep within his soul to do the right thing. His wording was brilliant. It demonstrated the true meaning of freedom and what it REALLY means to be American. And, because of it, once again, I am damned proud to be one! This is a seminal moment for our Country. Within his majority opinion, Justice Kennedy reasoned, rightly so, that democracy is a "living thing" and must adapt to the time in which it exists for it to be successful. This is the time and and this is the place for it to happen. I sincerely hope that everyone appreciates the significance.

“No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right. The judgment of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit is reversed. It is so ordered.”

Today's MOZEN: The Devil Made Him Do It.

F LoBuono

Recently, I watched an interview with the woman who first spotted the killer Dylann Roof and reported the sighting to the authorities. Apparently, she recognized his car on a street in North Carolina and called 911. From her tip, Roof was captured without incident. During the course of the interview, the woman kept giving thanks to god and that it was "god's will" that he was caught. Well, here's my dilemma: Someone has to explain to me how the same god who took nine innocent lives in a South Carolina church in the first place is the same one who "allowed" the perpetrator to be caught a short time later. I mean it. I need to understand the faith-based rational of a god who, if he controls everything in every life, would "allow" the massacre of those dedicated to his service only to make it all "OK" by orchestrating the murderer's eventual capture. Really? I mean, what's the point? If god is ALL MERCIFUL, ALL SEEING, and ALL LOVING, how could he possibly allow such senseless violence to happen in the first place? Was someone else responsible? Did the DEVIL make Roof commit such a heinous act? Did god look away at that moment? When the victims apparently begged for their lives, why didn't he listen?

 My questions my seem caustic and sarcastic, but they are not. I do not knock people of faith. They seem to have found something that I continue to search for. However, I don't see "god" or "faith" working that way. For me, there is no white bearded man in flowing robes, sitting on cloud, pulling our strings like some divine puppeteer! There is no horned, long-tailed red devil sitting on our shoulders and whispering in our ears making us do evil things. These are just manifestations of the concepts of good and evil as WE HUMAN BEINGS define them. Perhaps, the personification of these ideals is necessary for most of us to understand them. However, in my mind, it's a gross over-simplification! In fact, in my opinion, it can be counter productive. By shifting the responsibility for our own deeds to a nebulous being, we avoid accepting and understanding our capacity for both good and evil. It doesn't belong to anyone else. It belongs to us.

So, it is with the case of the South Carolina church murders. The devil didn't make Dylann Roof kill those people. It was a sick mind fed by a warped view of race and justice that is all too prevalent in our society, especially in the deep South. And, god didn't "allow" him to be spotted and eventually apprehended - that was accomplished by vigilance and excellent police work. We need to accept full responsibility for our actions - all of them. When we do, we can address the issues with reason and logic. Then, perhaps, we can truly approach divine.

Today's MOZEN: There Is Only One.

Words and photo by F LoBuono

THIS is the flag of OUR land. There is only one. There is no other. Millions have fought and died to defend the ideals it was created to  REPRESENT: Freedom, Justice, Liberty, Courage, Fortitude, Perseverance, Strength, Tenacity, Wisdom, Kindness, and Compassion - for ALL. If we do not believe in these concepts, if we do not apply them equally under the law, then our flag is nothing more than a colorful rag hanging on a pole.

Do not accept impostors. Do not fall for the rhetoric of the embittered - those who would say their flag is a symbol of independence and freedom - that it honors the sacrifice of those lost to a lost cause. Well, good riddance. The cause was lost because it was an unjust one and that can NEVER change. Fighting, killing, and dying for the enslavement of others was, and is, an abomination. THAT flag represents Bondage, Abuse, Degradation, Pain, and Suffering. Pledging allegiance to their flag reinforces concepts of hate and deceit.

Old Glory - Long May She Wave - Long May She Truly Stand for the Land of The Free and The Home of The Brave!! Now, LIVE IT!!

Today's MOZEN: Honor Thy Father

F LoBuono

I'm far more educated. I earn a lot more money and have a higher standard of living. I'm healthier. And, in many ways, I'm more worldly. Still, my father was so much greater than me and in so many ways.

First, I had the benefit of his presence for the first half of my life. His father died when he was twelve. As the oldest son in a Sicilian immigrant family, he became the de facto head of his household and helped to support his younger brother and two sisters. Then, when World War II came, he interrupted his education and enlisted in the military. He served four years - two of them overseas fighting with General George Patton's Third Army. He, like millions of others from The Greatest Generation, did his duty with honor and helped save the world. When he returned, he and his brother continued with the family's grocery/deli business until they sold it years later. It was during that time period that he met and married my mother and began a family.

In the beginning, we lived in a very modest apartment near the deli in Cliffside Park, NJ. Eventually, my father got to realize the Great American Dream and purchased a small house in Fort Lee, NJ. I always felt that he was particularly proud that he was able to achieve that measure of success - home ownership. However, I think what made my father most joyous was his family. He was the ultimate family man, raising three kids, and remaining faithful to my mother for the 36 years they were married until his death parted them in 1987. Nothing was more important to him than us. Nothing. And, he made that abundantly clear - constantly. We may not have had much, but we had each other and he made us feel like that was enough.

After they sold the family business, he decided to pursue an entirely different career path. He choose to use his military experience to become a Bergen County Deputy Sheriff. He approached his new career with dedication and passion. He was nearing middle-age by that time and it couldn't have been easy to make the transition. But, he studied to pass the written portion of the Civil Service exam with a new college student's enthusiasm. And, we exercised together so he could be ready for the physical portion, too. I must have been nine or ten at the time and he taught me how to do push-ups and sit-ups. I would line up next to him and what ever he did, I did - or, at least tried! I think my life-long passion for fitness stems from this initial experience.

My father felt that an educated man was a successful man. As a deputy sheriff, he was eventually assigned as a court attendant and watched the proceedings on a daily basis. This exposed him to experts from the fields of medicine, law, and other intellectual pursuits. He would encourage me to be like them saying, "Frankie, these men change the world with their THINKING"! And, he loved learning - a passion he bequeathed to me. He read everyday, even if it was just the local paper. His family circumstances and the war prevented him from pursuing his own education as a young man but he was determined to change that - and he did. He actually earned an Associates Degree in Criminal Justice from Bergen Community College when he was in his fifties. Education was so important to him that he drove me to complete mine. There were many times when I wanted to quit school, but he simply would no let me. He would encourage me - "Hang in there! Do it now. It's more difficult when you get older". And, "once you EARN you diploma NO ONE can take it from you". And, he was right. As I get older, he seems to have been a lot more right then he was wrong.

A strong man, my father still struggled with his health. He developed severe asthma and suffered with it for most of his adult life. His health problems were probably the biggest issue he and my mother faced. As a boy, I remember being terrified hearing him struggle for his breath on hot, humid summer nights. He often talked of moving us to Arizona, hoping that the dry climate would improve his breathing. Then, mostly due to complications from his asthma, he encountered heart issues and had his aortic valve replaced. And, if that wasn't enough, he ended his life in the shadow world of Alzheimer's Disease. One of the saddest things in my life was watching this brilliant man who loved learning above virtually anything else but his family pass his last months as a simpleton, unable to even recognize those he loved best.

In contrast, my health is excellent and always has been. Not only am I absent of all major ailments, I rarely even catch a cold! I do my best to live a healthy lifestyle but I believe that most of my good fortune is because I have been blessed with my mother's genes rather than my father's - at least in this way. I am also more educated than my father was. I have a B.A. degree with some Masters credits from Rutgers. I also earn more money that he ever did - a lot more. At the height of my career in broadcasting I earned close to three times more money/year than he did. Because of this financial success, I have also owned two homes. My parents, who always seemed to struggle with money issues, rarely traveled. In contrast, I've been to most of Europe and even China. My father bought one new car in his lifetime. I have purchased many. By most standards, it would be fair to say that I have been successful in my life and career. Certainly, in terms of health, education, and standard of living, I have had it all over my father.

Still, by the most important parameters, at least as I see them, my father was FAR more successful than me. First, he served his Country at one of its most perilous times. For various reasons, I did not serve. He was enormously proud of his contribution to the war effort. In the many battles he apparently encountered during the war, he must have faced the possibility of his own imminent demise. This changes a man. I believe it gives one a perspective on life that cannot be had by virtually any other means. It tends to make a person live more fully in the moment. His example fostered in me a sense of both rebellion AND responsibility. In my work, I have been challenged with extreme danger, but, certainly, not to the same degree that he faced. Still, I feel a sense of duty that was instilled in me by him to get any job done to the very best of my abilities. He helped me know the meaning of courage. He taught me to love reading and learning. He encouraged me to live freely and independently. He inspired me to discover my strengths and overcome my weaknesses. And, he insisted that I live with honor by treating everyone with dignity and respect. He was also a master communicator who believed that the key to any healthy relationship was sharing completely and honestly. We certainly had that relationship. There was nothing that I ever felt I could not share with my father. Nothing. He was my mentor and my friend,

Second, and most importantly, my father was the consummate family man. He was faithfully married for thirty six years and raised three children. Since, in my father's mind, this was his greatest role and joy, it was also his greatest triumph. By comparison, my marriage lasted for just twelve years. I have no children of my own. The relationship I did have with my stepsons is severely fractured. In other words, I failed pretty miserably. Now, before you think that I'm beating myself up, let me set the record straight. This is not about self-loathing. My ego is far too healthy for that. In fact, it's really not about me at all. Rather, it is my attempt to laud my father, and all men who fill that most  important role. The meaning of deadbeat father is unfathomable to me. There is NO job that is more important to a man. And, my father was one of the best.

My father's legacy is secure. Me, my brother, and sister are the living evidence of that. His service to his Country is another reason. My mother's undying love for him is still more. He was the living embodiment of The Greatest Generation, indeed. But, every man who loves, supports, and cherishes his family is a hero.

Happy Father's Day.

Today's MOZEN: The Stars and Bars.

F LoBuono

The Confederate Battle Flag is known as the Stars and Bars. For those unfamiliar with American history, it was the flag flown into battle by the Southern Secessionists, i.e. treasonous rebels who attempted to preserve slavery by leaving the Union. Southerners and their sympathizers will tell you that today it represents a sort of freedom that comes from rebellion. They will also tell you it serves to memorialize those Southerns who lost their lives in the Civil War.

I say, BULL SHIT!

The Stars and Bars (and it's many incarnations) represents nothing more than a block-headed attempt to rationalize their inexplicable attempt at preserving a lifestyle and economy that existed solely on the backs of slaves. Their actions led to the death of over 1.2 million Americans. And, that's worth memorializing? In his memoirs, General Ulysses S. Grant said that, although he appreciated the Southern soldiers' dedication and sense of duty, he could not fathom why they choose such a worthless cause to apply it!

Now, 150 years later, the South still takes delight in flying that flag high and wide. In recent days, despite the fact that a white supremacist who supposedly worshiped that flag just murdered 9 innocent blacks at a bible class, it was still flying high over the State Capitol in South Carolina. This was done even when the American and official State flags were lowered to half-mast . There is a level of defiance here that smacks of the racism that has nearly destroyed the South and continues to be problematic today. No one is going to make a Southerner take down the image that instead of representing the best of any given society, symbolizes the worst. And, that is damned strange to me.

Besides, someone needs to tell them that they LOST THE WAR - after 150 years, it's time to heal. Lose that stupid flag!!

One Night In Mexico City. Inspired by a true story.

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Inspired by a true story . . .

It was during the war at some nightclub in Mexico City. It doesn't matter which one - there were so many in those days. It was to be a night of dancing with my date, the ambassador's son. We arrived, fashionably late, at the club in the ambassador's chauffeur driven limousine. As we pulled up, I noticed a great deal of excitement about the place - more than the usual. As the attendant opened my door, I asked the young man what was all the fuss about.

He's been released from prison. There's going to be a BIG celebration tonight! He replied.

Apparently, the "he" the attendant was referring to was the head of one of Mexico's biggest crime cartels. He had been released on a technicality. It seems that witnesses scheduled to testify against him were disappearing at an alarming rate. Eventually, the case collapsed and he was released. Tonight was to be his coming home party.

Before we left the car, I sensed danger and suggested to my date that we keep the car running - just in case. He agreed.

Driver, stay close by and keep the engine running, I instructed.

Certainly, miss.

We stepped from the cool night air into the steamy atmosphere and pulsing energy of the club. We secured a good spot not far from the band and near the dance floor.

Two Manhattans, please, my date ordered from our white tuxedo-clad waiter.

As we waited for our drinks to arrive, I noticed the large table nearby. It was packed with people having a good time. And, the center of attention, surrounded by buxom, sweaty women and burly bodyguards, was "the man" himself. Hair slicked back and wearing an expensive suit, if you called Central Casting to send over the archetype of a Mexican Crime Boss, this guy would show up. He was just about to inhale another shot of tequila when our eyes met. He knew that I was watching him, observing his actions. His face broke into a sort of thin, wry smile, a cigarette pursed between his lips. He snapped his fingers and one of his minions brought him a pen and piece of paper. He quickly jotted something down, folded the paper, and handed it back to his assistant. The man bent down for the boss to whisper something in his ear. As the boss spoke, he nodded towards me. It seems he was to deliver a message to me.

The messenger came to my table, bowed, handed me the note, took a step back, and waited for my reply. I unfolded it and read:

The senorita' will dance with me.

I glanced over the note to make sure that he had a clear view of me. I wanted to make sure that he could witness my reaction. I could see that he did, and our eyes met once again. I held the note in front of me and, in plain sight, preceded to tear it into a thousand pieces! The messenger's jaw dropped as the boss's eyes filled with rage. He immediately and violently pushed his chair back. Flanked by two of his henchmen, he charged for our table. Once he reached us, he had the messenger hold back my date while the other two grabbed my arms. The boss pulled a revolver from his belt and placed it tightly under my chin.

The senorita' WILL dance with me. It was NOT a question, he seethed through clenched teeth, cigarette still defiantly dangling from his lips, breath reeking of tequila, the cold barrel of the gun pressing against my chin.

As if in capitulation, I smiled gently and relaxed my arms fighting against his thugs. They released their grip so that I could more easily approach the boss. I continued smiling as I brought my arms up as if to engage him in a dance pose. Everyone was put at ease. I saw my moment. Instead of taking him by the hand, in one quick move I smacked him across the face - in both directions!

POW! POW!

My hand found its mark with devastating effectiveness. The cigarette, once held so smuggly between his lips, flew across the room. It was as if an electric current had shot through the club. In the confusion I saw another opportunity. I yelled to my date.

Let's get the hell out of here. NOW!!

We made a mad dash for the door, trampling anyone and anything that got in our way. The driver had, thankfully, followed my instructions and was waiting, engine idling, nearby. Still only half way into the car, I screamed -

STEP ON IT!!

Looking back for a brief second and seeing the urgency on our faces, the driver threw her into gear and started slinging gravel as he screeched out of the parking lot. I thought that I heard gun shots as we sped away.We were laughing hysterically! I can't say the same for our driver. But, that was a good thing. He drove us, due haste, to safety.

After we felt we were out of harms way, my date looked at me and asked,

Now what do we do?

Well, we wanted to go dancing, so, let's go dancing, I replied.

And, that's exactly what we did. We found another club. There were so many in those days.

In the morning, when we woke, we checked out the car. There were bullet holes all over the trunk.

Today's MOZEN: A Meditation on Vegetarianism

Words and photo by F LoBuono

It's a controversial topic. But, when have I ever been reluctant to discuss difficult subjects? I wish that life were all smiles and sunshine, but we all know that just ain't the case. Besides, hiding you head in the sand leaves your ass exposed and that can be hazardous to your health. So, let's talk about vegetarianism.

People seem surprised when I tell them I'm practicing vegetarian. And, I do say practicing because it is a work in progress. I am far from perfect at it, and for various reasons, occasionally fall off the wagon. Besides, in our culture it is not easy to be a vegetarian. But, I do the best that I can on a daily basis and I succeed more than I fail. So, with all the difficulties, why?

Well, it's complicated. It was certainly not something that happened overnight and without a great deal of soul-searching. All of my ancestors come from Sicily where food is one of biggest parts of the culture. As a young man, we always ate well. In fact, many of my friends were jealous of the quality and diversity of our meals. We ate EVERYTHING. To say it was "well balanced" was an understatement. Because we were so diverse in our food sources, meat, as well as fish and all types of vegetables, was included. Like most peasant cultures (which Sicilian is), we ate ALL of the animal - nothing was wasted. Coming from such a background meant that limiting my diet in any way would be a challenge.

Eliminating meat was something that I had considered for a while. I had always loved animals, as did my entire family. I can't remember a single day growing up where we didn't have some type of living creature in our house - a dog, a cat, or even fish. My father had an incredible affinity for his dogs and they provided great comfort to him in his later years. And, my mother felt the same way. At 91 she still lives with a cat! So, the more that I thought about it, the more I could not longer rationalize loving some animals while eating others. Besides, given the opportunity to be loved and cared for virtually all animals respond in kind - just like any domesticated one. And, in some cases, more so. For example, studies have shown pigs to be at least as intelligent as dogs and also revel in attention and affection. Yet, we crate, abuse, and slaughter them in the most callous manner while we spend billions on caring for our dogs. Why?

Most people will argue that eating meat is totally natural. In fact, anthropologists tell us that the high quality protein we get from eating cooked meat was essential to the development of the modern brain. They will also point to our teeth, good for eating just about ANYTHING, as further evidence of our ability and need to eat meat. There is some good science that challenges this assertion. Be that as it may, my discussion follows along more ethical lines. I do not eat meat because I have CHOSEN not to.

I have chosen not to because the way that our meat is processed is cruel and inhuman - and it needn't be. The only reason it is so is because it is CHEAPER to raise and slaughter animals under deplorable conditions than it is to do it with wisdom and compassion. And, I have seen it firsthand. When I was on assignment in China, we had to visit and document a chicken slaughterhouse. I will spare the details except to say that it was cold, calculated, efficient, deadly, and ghastly. A living, breathing being was reduced to a mass of dead flesh in a matter of minutes. It was the type of death house that has become known as Factory Farming - just like producing nuts and bolts from iron, except this time it's turning living creatures into dead ones. And, still, this was not enough to get me to stop. No. I was still able to rationalize my need for protein as the excuse to continue to eat meat. The epiphany for me came on another assignment - this time in Iowa. I was there to cover the Iowa Caucus of 2012. While watching TV in my hotel room, a PETA video came on. It was of a sow who's hind legs would not function anymore. Yet, she was still CRAWLING up the shoot to her own slaughter!! That was IT for me. How many videos like that one did I have to see before I acted?? I had to change. And, I did.

As I said, it is perfectly natural for people to eat meat - we have from the very beginning of our existence. I don't see that changing any time soon, if ever. It is ingrained in our DNA. However, I would ask people to at least consider what they eat and how it got there in the first place. Organic ranching and farming is one, reasonable alternative. Generally, animals raised in this manner are more humanely treated and raised properly. Now, there will be those who will not accept even this as an alternative to eating meat - killing is still killing. However, I don't believe that it is realistic to expect most people to stop eating meat completely. What would be more reasonable to expect is for people to have a daily awareness to minimize, if not completely eliminate, cruelty in their lives. Looking for natural, organic alternatives is one way. Abstinence, if and when you are ready, is another.

Look, I'm far from perfect at it. I still eat fish (a compromise). I'm sure FAR from vegan. And, if I'm invited for dinner and someone went to the trouble of making me a steak, I'm NOT going to throw it in the garbage! That would be an even bigger sin than sacrificing the animal in the first place. What I do is my best to be aware and minimize cruelty in the world where ever and when ever I may find it. I would humble ask you to do the same.

Today's MOZEN: A Meditation on the Word Fuck

Words by F LoBuono

Despite it's association with foul language, it is still one of the most widely used words in the English lexicon. In fact, its meaning transcends English. It is just as well known internationally. But, no one uses the word FUCK more often, more creatively, and more brazenly than New Yorkers. No one.

The word itself is Germanic, probably Indo-European in origin, and first appeared in the 16th Century. The root meaning is strike (makes sense!). The great stand-up comedian, George Carlin, lauded the incredible flexibility and power of the word in his 1972 routine Usage of the Word Fuck. He rightly pointed out and demonstrated that it can be used as a noun, a verb, an adjective, and an adverb. And, who could forget "FUCK Of The Mountain"? There are few, if any, words in the English language that are as versatile.

And, there isn't a place on the planet whose populace uses the word more often and in more ways than New York. Fuck has become so much a part of a New Yorker's vernacular that we hardily even notice that it is not considered proper English in most circles. We use it when we are frustrated: I'm fucked. We use it when we are joyful: That was fucking great! We use it demonstratively: Go fuck yourself. We use it as a plea for mercy: Give me a fucking break! We use it, well, just for the fucking sake of it!

Some outsiders are shocked by the frequency of its use here. You can't walk a fucking block in New York without hearing it a thousand fucking times! And, why the fuck not? Still, others see it as part of the colorful fabric that IS New York City. While working the GOP National Convention for CBS News here in 2004, one of our producers from Dallas arrived at our location studio in a very excited state. I asked him what happened to get him so charged up.

He replied, "well, I walked here from my hotel room and I have never heard the word FUCK used so many times, so creatively, and by SO many people - and, all in just a few blocks"!

"It didn't freak you out"? I asked.

"No. Not at all. In fact, I thought it was incredible"! he answered, a big smile on his face. "It's just SO New York".

The next day he proudly purchased the ubiquitous T-shirt sold in Times Square extolling the virtues of the word:

Fuck you
You Fuckin'
Fuck

My parting words to him where, fuckin' aye!

TalkFrank - THE MISSION

Words and photo by F LoBuono

From time to time, I feel it necessary to re-state the mission of this blog. It was designed to be a forum, a place to exchange information, opinions, art, and thought. ALL are welcome to participate. In fact, everyone is ENCOURAGED to do so. Differences in opinion are not only tolerated, they are essential if this is to be a true forum. No one is ever blocked simply because we may disagree. Only unnecessarily vulgar or violent entries are not tolerated. Debates here will get passionate. I know that I am going to push the envelope and say things that will piss people off. You will say things that will elicit the same response from me. That's OK. What is not is to let anger get the best of us, leading to name calling and counter productive behavior. Let's avoid the childish use of pejoratives.

Still, with that said, make no mistake, it is solely MY blog and I am ultimately responsible for everything and anything that I may personally post on it. If I am not the "owner" of the material, that will be annotated. I will say things to provoke you - not just for the sake of being contrary but, rather, to goad our discussion into new, undiscovered realms. Understand that it even when being "difficult", it is always with a purpose and respect. I do not write things solely to shock. I am sometimes right and often wrong. But, in the final analysis, being right or wrong is not really the point. An intelligent exchange of real ideas is.

If it's helpful, let me apologize to those whom I may have offended. That is not my motivation. However, in an effort to be totally honest, sometimes being offensive may be unavoidable. I would hope that anyone who participates within knows that. It makes me think about something that Arnold Schwarzenegger once said about the pain associated with bodybuilding:

You can't grow without burning.

I am grateful for the small, dedicated following that I do have. I am always grateful and a bit amazed when people find something that I have contributed worthy of their attention. It's a busy world and people rarely have the time to read, much less contribute. But, I am trying to make a difference and appreciate those who are like minded. I sincerely thank those who have already become members and hope that they would recommend it to others, as well.

Come burn with us!!!

Today's MOZEN: The Fear of Freedom 6/5/2015

By F LoBuono

Sometimes, I just can't stand it. I simply can't. Too many people are just so full of shit. There, I said it. People talk about freedom in this Country and don't have a clue as to the real meaning of the word. In fact, I think that it's worse than that. They are afraid of freedom and they don't even know why.

Freedom, real freedom, means a complete lack of attachment. It means accepting things (and people) for how they truly are. We must let go of any preconceived notions of how things are supposed to be. Instead, we should release our inhibitions, allowing our minds the room to grow. Eventually, if we keep our minds and our hearts open enough, we reach the level of freedom known as enlightenment.

However, most people cling to the things that they've been conditioned to believe - without question. It seems to be easier to accept convention than it is to challenge it. So, instead of choosing the road less traveled they use the well-worn path. They are afraid of the unknown - literally. Learning something new is a challenge that must be accepted to be effective. And, that can be hard for many.

Freedom is also a great big thing and can, therefore, be terrifying. It's just too big, too detached for most. Being free can mean standing along - totally alone. It's like being on a small rowboat in the middle of the ocean. One cannot escape the overwhelming feeling that you are completely isolated. The ocean is too big, too vast. We are too small, too insignificant. We are intimidated by the shear vastness of it. So, we are afraid. The same can be said of freedom. We are afraid when we stand apart. We prefer the comfort of convention, so we attack that which we don't understand or doesn't fit within our "rules". We don't dare be alone in our little rowboat in the middle of the ocean. We much prefer sharing the voyage with hundreds of others aboard a nice, big cruise ship. So it is with freedom. We talk about it all of the time; Home of the Brave and Land of the Free - that's us. However, whenever one of us tries to break with convention, to be truly free, they are almost invariably brought to heel. We certainly don't want anyone rocking the boat. And, those that do are cast adrift.

The latest example can be found in Bruce Jenner's transition from man to woman. Once the "World's Greatest Athlete", the former Olympic decathlete will now be known as Caitlyn Jenner. Overall, the response to Jenner's transformation, as highlighted in a recent Vanity Fair cover, has been positive. He has received a goodly amount of support, particularly from the LBGT community that hopes the high profile nature of Jenner's name will bring much needed understanding towards transgender people. However, there are still those fearful enough to not even make an attempt at understanding. For example, The Blaze, Glenn Beck's ultra-conservative blog, published an article by Matt Walsh with the title, "Bruce Jenner is not a Woman. He is a Sick, Delusional Man". Really? Really. This is exactly what I mean. What is Mr. Walsh so afraid of? What is it that Jenner is doing to cause Mr. Walsh to call him "sick" and "delusional"? Well, the only answer that I can think of is Jenner does not fit into Mr. Walsh's box.  Jenner had the temerity, the COURAGE to live the life he had always envisioned for himself. Perhaps, Mr. Walsh is afraid because Ms. Jenner has shown him what life could be - if we live it freely. He is not afraid to be in the rowboat in the middle of the ocean. The very THOUGHT of that scares the shit out of Mr. Walsh - because he does not have the same intestinal fortitude as Ms. Jenner.

I'm not sure that I understand all of the reasons that Jenner made the decision that she ultimately did. The World's Greatest Athlete does not become a woman on a very regular basis. So, there is a sensational aspect to it. Some people have said all the hype is reason to be suspicious of the act. I'm not so sure. It is just too complex to attempt for just money or publicity. No, there is much more going on here. I, for one, want to know why. I do so because I am not afraid to learn. I want to ask questions. I want to understand. However, in the end, it is not important for me to understand. It is only important that I accept. And, I am not afraid.

When You Think About It. 6/3/2015

Photo F LoBuono

One of the earliest written descriptions of what defines being an American is from the French-born J. Hector St. John de Cre'vecooeur in his "Letters from an American Farmer", published in 1782:

What then is the American, this new man? He is either an European, or the descendant of an European, hence that strange mixture of blood, which you will find in no other country. I could point out to you a family whose grandfather was an Englishman, whose wife was Dutch, whose son married a French woman, and whose present four sons have now four wives of different nations. HE is an American, who, leaving behind him all his ancient prejudices and manners, receives new ones from the new mode of life he has embraced, the new government he obeys, and the new rank he holds. He becomes an American by being received the broad lap of our great ALMA MATER. Here individuals are melted into a new race of men, whose labours and posterity will one day cause great changes in the world.

Although written over 230 years ago, it still rings true today.

Today's FrankieFunFact

Words and Photo by F LoBuono

New York was discovered and settled by the Dutch in 1619 and given the name New Amsterdam. The English laid claim to the island in September of 1664 and renamed it New York after James, Duke of York, who was given the city as a gift by his brother, Charles II, King of England.

Today's MOZEN: The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship 6/2/2105

By F LoBuono

It was a chance encounter. I was merely stopping by a photographer friend's studio to say "hello". I often pass his place on my frequent sojourns into town, so it's pretty convenient to drop in. He had a client but invited me into his studio anyway to meet her. I could feel her energy the moment I laid eyes on her. A petite woman, I don't think that she had 90 lbs on her five-foot frame. She was fit and trim and immaculately dressed in a sharp, pale blue pants suit. She wore just enough make-up to highlight her features, particularly her piercing blue eyes. Her matching jewelry was definitely haute-couture. I estimated that she must have been in her late 70's. This woman was worldly. I noticed a stunning medallion that hung from a long gold chain around her neck as she introduced herself. She looked me right in the eye, very directly, held out her hand and said:

"hi, I'm Karen".

"Hello, Karen, my name is Frank and it's a pleasure to meet you", I replied while shaking her hand and meeting her gaze.

All along her eyes were studying my face. She must have felt me smile at noticing her stare and she apologized and explained:

"I don't mean to stare but I am so intrigued by your face. It has such power and character".

She explained further that she was a sculptor and cast medals, mostly of historic figures, by special commission from such prestigious entities as The White House and The Smithsonian. In fact, she was at my friend's studio for him to photograph and catalogue her work. She showed me the medal she had around her neck, telling me it was one of her latest. Polished brass, it was the heroic figure of an idealized Olympic Athlete. I found it most beautiful. She showed me photos of her other pieces and they were all outstanding.

However, what I found most impressive was the woman herself. She had such courage, such honesty in her quest for her art, such integrity in her bearing, that she should have stood ten feet tall instead of just five! What was most interesting is that I truly felt her power, and she sensed mine, as well. The connection was immediate and visceral.

We have had a few conversations since that initial meeting and our relationship continues to grow. Karen wants to cast a medal of me as the incarnation of John Brown! She said my energy reminded her of a heroic figure like Brown. In fact, she recently said that the only person she has ever met with the same type of energy was her late husband, a nine-time Olympian fencer. I was flabbergast because I know that she meant it. And, this is not a weak or trite person. This is a powerful artist who expresses what she feels. I am so humbled by the very thought of it. However, I know that part of being graceful is not only found in giving, it is in receiving, as well. Accepting this from her is nothing short of an honor, and I see it as such. I believe that it is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

By the way, Karen is not in her 70's. She's 91 and volunteers to drive her friends that don't see very well around.