We Will Not Forget

Photo F LoBuono

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner

Randall Jarrell, 1914 - 1965

From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

The Silver Back

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Male gorillas are awesome physical specimens. Weighing as much as 400 lbs., they are reported to be 4 to 5 times as powerful as an adult male human being. There is a story of a "circus gorilla" reported to be strong enough to squash a truck tire with his bare hands. In captivity they can live 60 years. They are gentle giants but when provoked they are fearsome adversaries. Even the largest predators shy away from a bout with one.

When they reach sexual maturity  (about 12, the same as humans) the hair on their backs turns a brilliant silver. All males from then on are known as a Silver Backs. But, only one can be the alpha. He is The Boss. Il Padrone. El Jeffe.

People ask me if I would ever consider coloring my grey hair. LOL LOL LOL.

Today's MOZEN: Respect for Harambe

F LoBuono

A few weeks ago, I posted a Mostly True Short Story about the death of a simple squirrel. The ultimate point was to give respect to ALL life. NO life is insignificant - even a lowly squirrel's.

With this in mind, I would like to discuss the recent tragic death of a Western Lowland gorilla named Harambe at the Cincinnati Zoo. It seems that an unidentified 4 year-old boy slipped away from his mother, wiggled through a fence, and then fell approximately 10 feet into Harambe's enclosure. The two females in the enclosure with Harambe at the time responded when called by their handlers to retreat away from the boy. Harambe did not and grabbed the boy who was alert and apparently uninjured. At first, the gorilla seems to be almost cradling the boy. The, suddenly and without provocation, Harambe aggressively grabs the boy by the leg and as if handling little more that a rag doll, drags the boy through the water in the moat surrounding the enclosure. After a brief pause, the 400 lb. silver back does it again. All the while, the boy remains calm while spectators look on helplessly and scream in horror.

The Zoo's Quick Response Security Team reached the enclosure quickly and assessed the situation. They had to make an almost immediate decision on how to handle the crisis. It was determined that tranquilizing Harambe was just too risky. Too many things could go wrong. So, a most difficult decision was made to shoot and kill the gorilla. It was over in a matter of minutes and the boy was saved, miraculously virtually unharmed.

In that place and time, and under those circumstances, I believe it was the only decision that could be made. A 400 lb. silver back male gorilla is about 5 times as strong as a human. Although known to be gentle giants, they can also be fiercely aggressive. Even large predators will shy away from a tussle with an adult silver back. He could have killed that boy at anytime - even if it were unintentional - they are THAT powerful! I'm sure that everyone associated with the zoo, Harambe, and the whole affair were devastated by this event.

Now, this is not to say that an animal's life is less valuable than a humans (a debate for another post). But, again, under those circumstances, he had to be wasted (and, that's exactly what it was - a terrible waste). As much as we may relate to gorillas as one of our closet relatives in the animal kingdom, it is still impossible to know what was inside his head and how he may have reacted going forward. If that boy would have been held by a deranged man would we have reacted the same way? I believe so, and for similar reasons: as it is impossible to know what is inside a deranged persons head, so it is with a wild animal. A young life must be protected at all costs.

Make no mistake about it - THIS IS A TRAGEDY OF THE HIGHEST ORDER. A rare, wonderful animal has been destroyed and a family devastated. Anyone who thinks that that boy and his family has not, and WILL not suffer greatly is sadly mistaken. First, that boy has to live with the trauma of being manhandled by a 400 lb animal. Then, going forward, he will have to deal with the fact that a popular, magnificent animals was destroyed on his behalf. He may not understand that now, but he will someday. Next, his family, particularly his mother who was watching him, has been vilified. What an awful mother! How could she have let that happen? She deserves to be charged and arrested!

Really? Have none of you looked away from a 4 year-old for a second with near disastrous consequences? Really?

Compassion and respect for life applies to ALL life and that includes human beings! I am constantly amazed by people who advocate for the rights of animals while forgetting WE are animals, too. For example, they want to Save The Whales while still supporting capital punishment! That, my friends is faulty thinking. In this case, people are looking for scapegoats instead of solutions. This was a tragedy that already happened. It's too late to bring Harambe (who had just turned 17 years-old) back. Vilifying the boy OR the family does not provide solutions. Perhaps, the answer lies in NO MORE ZOOS at all. But, that, too, my friends, is a conversation for another day. What we need to do is respect the memory of that wonderful animal by doing EVERYTHING within our power to make sure that it never happens again.

Epilogue: My family and I decided to go to the zoo yesterday after visiting my neice at Cincinnati Childrens hospital. For those of you that have already heard, there was a terrible accident there yesterday. And since every news media has covered this story, I don't feel bad telling our side. This was an accident! ! A terrible accident, but just that! My husband's voice is the voice talking to the child in one of the videos. I was taking a pic of the female gorilla, when my eldest son yells, "what is he doing? " I looked down, and to my surprise, there was a small child that had apparently, literally "flopped" over the railing, where there was then about 3 feet of ground that the child quickly crawled through! ! I assumed the woman next to me was the mother, getting ready to grab him until she says, "Whose kid is this? " None of us actually thought he'd go over the nearly 15 foot drop, but he was crawling so fast through the bushes before myself or husband could grab him, he went over! The crowed got a little frantic and the mother was calling for her son. Actually, just prior to him going over, but she couldn't see him crawling through the bushes! She said "He was right here! I took a pic and his hand was in my back pocket and then gone!" As she could find him nowhere, she lookes to my husband (already over the railing talking to the child) and asks, "Sir, is he wearing green shorts? " My husband reluctantly had to tell her yes, when she then nearly had a break down! They are both wanting to go over into the 15 foot drop, when I forbade my husband to do so, and attempted to calm the mother by calling 911 and assure her help was on the way. Neither my husband or the mother would have made that jump without breaking something! I wasn't leaving with my boys, because I didn't trust my husband not to jump in and the gorilla did just seem to be protective of the child. It wasn't until the gorilla became agitated because of the nosey, dramatic, helpless crowd; that the gorilla violently ran with the child! And it was very violent; although I think the gorilla was still trying to protect, we're taking a 400 lb gorilla throwing a 40 lb toddler around! It was horrific! The zoo responded very quickly, clearing the area and attempting to save both the child and the gorilla! The right choice was made. Thank God the child survived with non-life threatening, but serious injuries! This was an open exhibit! Which means the only thing separating you from the gorillas, is a 15 ish foot drop and a moat and some bushes! ! This mother was not negligent and the zoo did an awesome job handling the situation! Especially since that had never happened before! ! Thankful for the zoo and their attempts and my thoughts and prayers goes out to this boy, his mother and his family.

Eyewitness Deidre Lykins

Today's Mostly True Short Story: Rosary Beads

Sgt. Joseph LoBuono (c 1943)

They are quite simple, really. Legend has it that they were made from the wood of an olive tree found in the Holy Land. But, to my father, the simple rosary beads were more valuable than gold.

As a young man, I sat listening intensely as he related the story of where he got them and how, he believed, they contained real, spiritual power.

WWII, France. Late 1944.

My father's unit of combat engineers with Patton's Third Army was bivouacked in the countryside near a small French village. Somehow, my father was befriended by a French family for reasons I no longer remember (after so many years, many of the finer details have been lost to me). Be that as it may, they invited him to join them for a home-cooked meal. Perhaps, it was to thank him for fighting for their liberation. We will never know with certainty. I'm sure that my father, who had not been home in over two years, was anxious to indulge in some French provincial cooking! He received permission to attend the meal and grabbed a jeep to drive to their home.

Once there, he basked in the warmth of this French family, so grateful for his presence. As if their affection wasn't enough, during the course of the meal, they presented my father with a gift. It was a set of rosary beads made from the wood of an olive tree in the Holy Land. They wanted him to have it as a talisman to keep him safe for the remainder of the war. My father was overwhelmed with gratitude.

After the meal, they made their tearful goodbyes.  Rejuvenated by the genuine warmth of the experience, my father headed for his jeep and the return to his unit. Partly into the trip, he realized that he left the rosary beads behind! In a semi-panic, he made a quick U-turn to go back and retrieve them. They were so relieved that he took the time to return. Of course, after their magnificent gesture, my father HAD to come back.

He retrieved the rosary and resumed his journey. When he reached his unit he was horrified to discover the camp in shambles. They had just been strafed by the Luftwaffe! Casualties were extremely high. The dead and wounded lay everywhere. It was then when my father realized that if he had not taken the extra time to return to get those beads he might have very well been one of those unfortunate souls. It shook him to his core.

Of course, from that moment on, those rosary beads took on a mythical quality for my father. He carried them with him not only through the war, but for the remainder of his life.

While researching for this story, I asked my mother is she still had them. She said. "oh, you mean those wooden ones? Yes, I have them in my hands, even as we speak . . . 

Conversations with Stella.

F LoBuono

Today's lunch conversation with Stella:

Me: Man, I've been getting into some really intense verbal altercations on Facebook these days!

Stella: Frankie, what did I tell you about that? I really wish that you wouldn't.

Me: But, I like it.

Stella: I know that you like it. That's not the point.

Me: Well, what IS the point, then?

Stella: Why don't you just vote your own conscience and let everyone else vote theirs?

Me: Well, Stella, I will. But, this is too important not to do everything in our power to make sure that Trump does not become President. I intend to write everyday if I have to. If I can convince even one other person not to vote for him, I will have been successful. Besides, wasn't it you and the old man who taught us to stand up to bullies?

Stella: I suppose that's true. Just don't get carried away.

Me: Yes, Stella. Of course.

Today's MOZEN: The Hand of God?

Words and photo by F LoBuono

This is a tough question but one I feel compelled to ask. It's tough because I want to accept the believe systems of others and not judge. I don't want to appear disingenuous. But, it is also an important one if we are to understand why things may happen:

You, or one of your dear ones, have been in a terrible automobile accident. The car is totaled - LOTS of damage. But, you and your passengers miraculously walk away unscathed. Of course, most people immediately say THANK GOD that they were spared. This is certainly a normal reaction. But, what do you say to God when we are not so "lucky" and suffer greatly? What if your child was severely injured and maimed for life or even killed? Do you still thank god? Is the hand that spared you the same one that took your child?

Many people who are involved in these types of traumas spend the rest of their days looking for reasons - one way or the other - as to either their good or bad fortune. Often, if they were spared, they are filled with the Holy Spirit and thank god for their very lives. If they are injured or maimed, they look for reasons as to why this BAD thing happened to them. I also suppose that it is comforting to just give it to god. When things don't seem to make sense, it is often easier to just subscribe it to providence. It's tough to go it alone. So, we accept divine intervention. I understand that.

However, if we are to believe that the hand of god is involved in ALL things then we must ACCEPT all things - including the bad. It is all part of the same big plan. Therefore, we must be grateful for EVERYTHING that comes our way. Of course, another way to fathom this to say that there is NO HAND that manipulates like some type of grand puppet master. Things happen simply because they were supposed to. The even have a word for it: Fate.

There is a scene in the award-winning film, Little Big Man, where Chief Dan George, the late, great Native American actor, performs his Death Dance to make peace within himself and the universe. As he breaks into dance, he chants, Hey, hey, hey. Hey, hey, hey. Then sings - Oh, Grandfather, thank you for making me a warrior and a human being. THANK YOU for my victories AND my defeats!

Why can't we just accept things simply because they are? In life, we will experience victory AND defeat. They are all part of the same, big picture. There is peace in bare acceptance. But, if the concept of a Divine Being orchestrating events in our lives gives you comfort, then, by all means, believe. Whatever gets you through the day is fine by me.

Original Poetry: When I Die

                                                             

Words and photo by F LoBuono

When I die
      I want my body to be consumed
                                       By Flames

In a GREAT Conflagration
                                      Like a Viking Chieftain

With my armor and weapons
                                      .
So that my ashes
                                     Will be spread
                                   
By The River

To The Four Corners of The Earth

.                                     Forever -
                                   
Until the End of Time.

Today's MOZEN: MEN IN HATS

Words and photo by F LoBuono

I wear a hat because it's like adding the dot at the top of an exclamation point.

Today's Mostly True Short Story. Brando Being Brando

by F LoBuono

Some people reach a level of fame and success that they can be easily identify by only one name: Pele', Sinatra, Einstein, Churchill. The list is considerable and, yet, at the same time, exclusive. There is a need for just a single identifier because there can be only one.

This concept was reinforced the other day in a conversation with my good friend, Loren Korevec. Loren was the piano player at the legendary New York eatery, Elaine's, during it's glory days of the late 1980's and 90's. He related this story to me:

During his time at Elaine's he became buddies with the great character actor, Dabney Coleman. One day at the piano they were discussing how many famous people frequented the joint.  It had become so notorious, in fact, that it was even immortalized in a Billy Joel song. The list was impressive - athletes, actors, writers, politicians, and parvenus. Anyone who was anybody just HAD to be seen at Elaine's. As they clicked off the role of celebrities, they both noticed one name that was glaringly missing: Brando. In all the years, and all the famous patrons, they had never seen Marlon Brando at Elaine's.

Coleman did add, however, that he did encounter Brando once, at another famous New York establishment, Patsy's. Patsy's had become well know years before as Frank Sinatra's favorite restaurant. One evening, around 1996, while dining there with a friend, the front door opened and much to the astonishment of the crowd, in walks Brando. Heads turned and conversations stopped. You could hear a pin drop. Brando, beautiful woman on his arm, walked in without saying a word. He was greeted warmly by the maitre d' who preceded to lead him directly to his table. Suddenly, everyone in the restaurant stood and broke into spontaneous applause. Brando showed no reaction what-so-ever. He simply continued to his table and sat down.

When Coleman finished the story, Loren exclaimed: what an arrogant asshole! He didn't even acknowledge his fans.

Coleman responded: Loren, you're missing the point. He needs to do that to BE Brando.

Today's MOZEN: Hillary vs Bernie

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Being baseball season, I thought the following analogy might be helpful in understanding the rift between the Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders camps:

Think of the Bernie and his followers as a National League Team and Hillary's supporters as their American League opponent. They are meeting in the World Series. The American League has won the All Star game entitling that squad to the home field advantage. This is set by the rules of Major League Baseball (MLB) and agreed to by all teams in the Major Leagues. The series has been a hard-fought, competitive affair and has come down to the 7th and deciding game. Because the American League team (Hillary) has the home field advantage the game will be played in its ballpark. Since it is played in the American League ballpark, BOTH teams get to use the so-called Designated Hitter (DH). Again, this is by the rules of MLB. Now, it's debatable whether the DH gives one team an advantage over the other. However, it can be argued that since the American League team plays with the DH on virtually a daily basis, it would favor them.

Be that as it may, IT IS ONE OF THE RULES OF THE GAME, decided LONG before this contest.

Purist have argued that since the implementation of the Designated Hitter into the American League (1973), the integrity of the game has been weakened. By the original rules of baseball, ALL position players were to take their turn at bat. But, to aid flagging attendance, some baseball executives decided that more hitting would make for a more exciting game. Since pitchers are notoriously poor hitters (they get paid to PITCH), they figured replacing them at the plate with a "real" hitter would lead to more runs and, therefore, more fans. The American League owners voted to accept the new rule, while the National owners preferred the status quo. The compromise was to use each League's rule within their own ballparks when playing one another. This includes the playoffs and world series.

The merits of the DH have been debated ever since.

However, in the meantime, it remains a rule of the game. To complain about it after the fact is counter productive. The genie is already out of the bottle. Teams that learn to use the rules to their advantage win the Series. Period.

So it is the case with Hillary and Bernie. We are in the 7th and deciding game. Hillary, for better or worse, is well versed in the rules of the game. In a sense, she has used the designated hitter to her best advantage. And, so she leads in both the popular vote and the delegate count. She is poised to win the Series. Bernie's followers are outraged: The rules are stacked against us! Hillary is just using a corrupt system! It's just more of the same. All of these things MAY be true. But, they still miss the point. Hillary did USE the rules to win. Charges to the contrary abound but have NOT been substantiated. So, she CANNOT be blamed for using the tools available to her. She (we) cannot make excuses for doing whatever is necessary to win. That would be like asking the New York Yankees to not do everything within their power, INCLUDING the use of their considerable monetary resources, to win it all.

This is the big league folks. It's the 7th game for all the marbles. Look for solutions - not excuses!

Today's MOZEN: Create Your Own Damned Blog!

Add caption

Let me make this abundantly clear: I have no POWER - over anyone or anything other than myself.

I live alone. I have no children. I am not wealthy. I exert no political influence. I am not a genius. I am not physically imposing. I am not a great athlete. I am not overwhelmingly well educated. I have won few, if any, awards for ANYTHING. I do not occupy a position of authority at work. I drive a car with over 230,000 miles on it. My FULK character is nothing more than a whimsical alter ego and defense mechanism.

In other words, I'm just a working-class slob.

And, I've never made any claims otherwise.

About the only thing that I do have control over is what I write in this stupid little blog. And, I put my heart and soul into it. Sometimes  I get things right but, of course, often get it wrong. However, my errors are honest ones, committed in an effort to stimulate discourse and healthy debate. Yes, I can be opinionated - perhaps even to the point of arrogance. But, I created the blog to give expression to MY voice. They're my damned opinions and I own each and every one of them.

Recently, I was accused by a reader of having no right to express the opinions I had put forth on the current state of Broadcast News. He claimed that the decisions made by news executives were way above my pay grade. He further disparaged me as "under qualified". It was almost as if he was put off because I even HAD an opinion and had the temerity to express it.

Well, that may be true. I am not a TV "executive". But, he is missing the point.

MY blog is a showcase for MY work. You are entitled to like it or not. You may follow it or not. You may read it or not. You my BELIEVE me or not. That's the beauty of it. It's FREE - in every sense of the word.

And, it's MINE.

I don't discourage healthy debate. To the contrary, I relish in it. I have thick skin - an essential quality if you wish to write controversial stuff- and I do.  But, my writing is always done from my Point of View because it is MY blog!

If you don't like it and have something to say, then SAY IT - On YOUR OWN DAMNED BLOG.

That is all.

Today's MOZEN: Vermin Supreme.

Words and Photo by F LoBuono

I just watched Donald Trump's press representative attempt to defend his foreign policy on CNN. OMG! Is there NOTHING that he can say that will convince people that he is so WRONG in every way to be President? His lack of insight and simple intelligence when it comes to these matters is more than just frightening. It's dangerous. So, I would vote for Vermin Supreme before I voted for Mr. Trump.

Today's MOZEN: HB2 - The Bill That Just Won't Go Away

F LoBuono

It's full name is House Bill 2 - the Public Facilities Privacy and Security Act (aka HB2). It was recently passed by the Republican Controlled legislature of North Carolina. Basically, it requires that all people using a public bathroom in the State must use the one of their birth sex, regardless of the sex they currently identified with.

The passage of the bill created an uproar not only in the State of North Carolina but around the Country and world, as well. Many, particularly those in the LGBT community, were outraged, claiming that the bill was a thinly veiled attempt at further limiting the rights that they had fought so hard to attain. Others claim it is much ado about nothing. They ask "why are we debating about bathroom rights and not the things most affecting this Country"? Some even suggested the debate was a ploy by the D.C. establishment to distract us from the "real" issues.

I disagree with them.

In my mind, it is One of the Most Important Issues we can face this, or any other, election cycle!

Despite what the sponsors of the bill may call it, it was NEVER about bathroom privacy! Rather, this legislation is a conflict between exclusion instead of inclusion. The law spreads fear and loathing rather than encouraging understanding and compassion. Instead of empowering, it degrades and debases. It takes a potential teaching moment for our children and turns it into a lesson in hypocrisy

These are the events that will shape our future.

With that in mind we must ask yourself this question: what is your vision for the future of this Country?

Does that vision include images of equality - for ALL? Is it one of compassion where people do not judge? Will it include lessons for our children in acceptance of those who may be different? Will it be a world filled with tolerance or violence?

Is it REALLY so difficult to envision these things for ourselves, our families, and our Country? We only lack the will to make this happen. If we had, we would work to have HB2 repealed immediately.

That legislation was never simply about who pees where! It's about DIRECTION. So, we must further ask, what is the path WE want to see our Country take?

We have choices to make. Let's make the right ones.

Today's MOZEN: Seek, and Ye Shall Find

F LoBuono

Change is inevitable. It simply cannot be stopped. It is a universal fact. So, they sooner we accept that actuality the better off our lives will be.

Still, we struggle not only with the fear of the unknown that change can bring but also from the speed at which it occurs today. Alvin Toffler, in his seminal work, Future Shock (Random House, 1970), claimed that the stream of information available to us will far surpass our ability to process it. Remember, he wrote that book in the days before the Internet was readily available. And, his prediction has seemingly come to pass - with a vengeance.

The amount of information READILY available to us is simply overwhelming!

And, when we get overwhelmed, we tend to "turn off". That is, instead of seeking MORE information we simply avoid looking for any.

I believe that this is the case particularly in the way that the main stream/traditional news is

currently viewed. I've been in and around the news business in various capacities for nearly 35 years. And, in that time I've observed a great deal of change in the industry. Perhaps, the biggest has come over the last ten years with the advent of widespread use of the Internet. The speed at which information is gathered, collated, and distributed is simple staggering. When in the past it might take hours to get and report a story, it can now be accomplished in hours or even minutes. There is virtually NO LIMIT to the AMOUNT of information that is available on almost any subject. And, these tools are not limited to the news industry. Virtually any individual with a computer and rudimentary skills can access almost anything that they need to know. It can, indeed, cause a sort of shock.

With this in mind, the way that news is produced AND distributed has changed greatly. There is simply SO much information available that it is physically impossible to present it in a traditional newscast. This has forced news directors to find new ways to create and deliver their product. The days of the public relying on ONE NEWSCAST to provide all of the information needed are quite simply over. You will no longer be force fed a steady diet of news pablum. You might actually have to look for it.

So it is with the latest round of political coverage. We are "in season" for another Presidential campaign and that means HUNDREDS of political events to cover each and every week. With the amount of candidates running (or, who were running) this means an astonishing amount of material to cover! During the height of the season, there are dozens of events a day, every day. It would be IMPOSSIBLE to give each one full coverage under the traditional guidelines. So, what the "normal" newscasts do is try to present a balanced approach to EVERY candidate with a fair amount of coverage to each and to make the rest available through alternative sources like streaming on the Internet. In this way, virtually anything and everything that you need to know can be yours to study. There really is no excuse. I am no computer "geek" but even I can easily find access to virtually anything I want to find out about.

Now, one of the complaints is that within the traditional newscasts, which still remain our most popular source for information, the amount of actual coverage is NOT balanced. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of many caring people, this may be true. Sometimes, it is simple economic reality. Newscasts are commercial endeavors. Even with slick, new ways to produce them, newscasts are expensive to create. Highly technical equipment and the staff to use it is not cheap. And, those who deliver the messages don't come without a steep price either. Therefore, a certain commercial viability is essential to every news operation. This is the reason that, of all the current candidates, Donald Trump seems to soak up the most attention. His bombastic style, for better or worse, gets him noticed. In industry parlance, he delivers eyeballs. Viewers, even those who dislike him, WANT to see him. He is an instant ratings machine. And, that my friends, whether we like it or not, is fiscal reality.

Of course, this leads to complaints from the supporters of all of the other candidates. This seems to be particularly egregious to those who favor Senator Bernie Sanders. They claim that in an effort to support the other Democratic candidate, Hillary Clinton, newscasts have deliberately shunned him. They will often show photographs of huge Sanders' rallies that they claim received absolutely no coverage. Now, I will say that Sanders does NOT receive the same coverage as Trump. But, then again, NONE of the others do either, and for the reasons I explained. However, from my insiders perspective, there is NO SINISTER PLOT to prevent Bernie Sanders from receiving the coverage his supporters believe that he deserves. It is simply a matter of supply and demand. And, this does not mean he (or the others for that matter) do not receive good coverage. One of my job responsibilities at CBS News is to record the campaign appearances of ALL the candidates and prepare edited clips of them to all CBS affiliates. I can assure everyone that this is done with as much respect for balance and fairness as is possible while still dealing with the economic realities of running a business - and it IS called the news BUSINESS. Even PBS (PUBLIC broadcasting) has "corporate sponsors" like the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. The news cannot simply run for "free".

Should it be this way? I think not. But, the reality of economics is always a factor and must be accounted for. This does NOT mean that traditional newscasts are now worthless endeavors. They are still essential sources for information. However, they should not be looked at as the ONLY source. There is NO excuse not to KNOW.  You don't have to drive 50 on the NJ Turnpike anymore. Seek and ye shall find.

Embrace change.

Today's MOZEN: The TBC. If It Ain't Broke.

F LoBuono

Let me attempt, through personal experience, to put to rest this entire inane, insane Transgender Bathroom Controversy, or the TBC.

As an athlete for the better part of 15 years I must have been in hundreds, if not thousands of men's locker rooms and bathrooms around the Country. In addition, I am now 61 years-old and have been urinating and defecating in public bathrooms for the great majority of those years - also, thousands of times.

At no time did I every witness a perverse act by a so-called Transgender Person. NEVER. EVER. In fact, I'm not even sure if I ever even ENCOUNTERED a Transgender Person!! How the f' would I know? I'm not in the habit of looking at other people's genitalia when they shit or piss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can't make it any simpler than that -

If it ain't broke, don't fix it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today's Mostly True Short Story: Urson

F LoBuono

It's odd. I've known him well for over twenty five years and I don't even know his last name.

Urson. That's all I know him by. And, I'm not even sure that I even spelled it correctly. What I do know is that he was born in Turkey and emigrated to this Country as a young man to study for a degree in  chemistry. Eventually, he wound up in, of all places, College Station, Texas and Texas A&M University. He has been working as a high level chemist ever since.

He is also one of my favorite people on the planet. I connected with him immediately. I met him at O'Donoghue's Tavern in Nyack where my brother tended bar. He came in frequently for a bite and a cocktail. A bit older than me, we still had a lot in common. Like me, Urson can be hard to miss. Stocky with a neatly trimmed beard, he is a traditional man with a modern ethos. He laughs loud and often but does not suffer fools easily. His devotion to his wife who was dying of cancer when we first met was nothing short of extraordinary. They never let her disease stop them. Never. They lived their life together to the fullest until the very end. And, they never looked for sympathy. They just kept DOING until they couldn't anymore. They inspire me to this very day.

Urson, as I also do, tends to look at a glass as half-full rather than half-empty. He'd rather laugh than cry. Love than hate. He is as much a lapsed Muslim as I am a Catholic. We believe in the inherent goodness of men and let fate take care of itself.

We ran into each other quite by accident the other day. I stopped into a local restaurant that I don't often frequent. But, I wanted a change of pace and decided to drop in. Urson was having a light meal and a drink at the bar. Of course, we greeted each other warmly and before I could even put my hand in my pocket, he was buying me a drink. We exchanged pleasantries. Eventually, our conversation wound to the state of political affairs in this Country. We both expressed our chagrin at how ugly things had become. But, then Urson said something that was typically Urson:

You know Frankie, I've seen a lot of changes since I first came to this Country. Maybe, some are not for the better. But, America is still like a rose - it's got thorns. And, they hurt. But, it is still a sweet smelling, beautiful flower.

He then preceded to ask the bartender to buy a round of drinks for three women across the bar whom he heard has just graduated from nursing school. As they raised their glasses in a toast he called over:

If I should ever need your services, remember who bought you that round of drinks.

God, I love that man!!

Today's Mostly True Short Story: Just a Squirrel

Words and photo by F LoBuono

It must have just happened. Someone's car had struck a squirrel. I had walked by that very spot on my way into town only a few minutes before and it wasn't there. I spotted it lying in the street on my way back to my apartment. At first, by the way the tail seemed to be moving, I thought that, perhaps, it was just stunned and had not been killed. I almost continued to walk by when I felt a bit guilty. What if it was not dead and just needed to removed from the street to recover? I decided to cross the street and investigate.

As I approached the downed animal it became obvious that it was, indeed, dead. It must have been the breeze that was moving its tail. I'll spare the details but let it suffice to say that it must have been killed instantly. It certainly did not suffer.

But, now, what to do?

Somehow, it just didn't seem right to me to just leave him to decay in the middle of the road. That always seems like such a waste to me. The animal has been lost and NO good can come from it. By decaying on the asphalt, it cannot be even "returned" to the earth. Truck drivers sarcastically call the rotting, crushed corpses road pizza. I suppose that if you've seen enough of it, like truckers do, the dark humor provides some relief from the reality of what it really represents.

I remembered that I had an empty plastic bag in my pocket. No self respecting owner of a very large dog (like I do) would be found without one! I placed my hand inside the bag and using it like a mitt, picked up the squirrel. It was still supple and warm. It had, indeed, just met his end. I sadness descended over me. It was obviously a healthy animal. But, it had met his fate. There was nothing more that I could do but take him out of the street. I noticed a tree nearby. There was another squirrel in that tree, watching my every move. Could they have been mates? I could not know. But, from the way it was watching my every move, it was entirely feasible.

I carried the squirrel to the base of the tree and gently laid him down there. The other squirrel who had been watching me moved further up the tree but did not leave! I called out to it:

Sorry that you lost your friend. I wish that I could do more. But, at least I have returned him to you. I have to move on now.

It wasn't so hard to do. Sure, I felt bad for of the loss of a healthy animal. But, I also experienced satisfaction in knowing that I had done the right thing. Life must be respected . ALL life - even Just a Squirrel's.

Epilogue - This is one of the times I think we have more in common that we have differences.

When we moved here a couple of years ago, on an Easter Sunday, I was working in the yard. Behind our property is a field with a big oak. A raven landed in a squirrel nest, ripped it apart and tossed two babies to the ground at east 20 feet below. They hit the ground like a rock.
He landed, pecked them both once and left. I imagine he would come back later to finish them.
I stood there listening to them scream for help. None came so I got gloves on and put them on the tree trunk in hopes they would climb back up. They fell. No adults came to help.
How could I just stand there while the cried out for help?

Got a havahart trap, put them in it and looked up how to care for orphaned squirrels. Got fluid in them but knew they'd be dead by morning.
We got in contact with a wildlife rehab person in Greenwood lake and met her around Washingtonville.
We have nothing but raptor rehabs here in PA.
I gave the woman the squirrels and $20 for supplies as I know she does this out of pocket.
We contacted her a few weeks later and the babies were big enough and well enough to be released.

A few days later I saw two adults searching the tree frantically. The finally stopped and huddled up next to each other in the crotch of the tree.
I told them what happened. That their babies were ok and they left shortly afterward.
Sometimes you can't help and sometimes you can.
I applaud you for giving this animal some dignity rather than leave it in the street like trash.
Still, the real hero here is that woman who postponed her family's Easter dinner to come rescue those babies.
Be well.

Richie Himes

Today MOZEN: No Compromise

F LoBuono

"You are only as much as what you settle for".

I was watching the PBS documentary series, "American Masters", on Janis Joplin when I heard this quote from her. It (and she) struck a cord in me. Growing up with her music, I always felt that she represented little more than the mantra of the late Sixties and early Seventies: sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll! And, certainly that was a part of her act and life. But, as evidenced by what is really a profound statement, she was so much more. She was an artist dedicated to the truth that SHE saw as HER vision. And, she lived it. Completely. Unfortunately, in a sense, like so many others of her genre, the cost was her life. But, this should not detract from the courage she continually displayed with artistic integrity. In a way, it has rewarded her with a certain sense of immortality.

This should be the zeitgeist for not only ALL artists, but for everyone!

Compromise is a part of life. No relationship can be successful without it. However, we should never make concessions when it comes to our dreams and aspirations. They are, or at least SHOULD be, non-negotiable. By their very definition, dreams exist in an alternative reality. Therefore, they should be of a nature to raise us up beyond the expectations of the ordinary. We should strive to be exceptional when it comes to what defines us. Our vision for what we want and expect from life should be one that can only be achieved with a pure heart and laser-like focus.

Do not confuse the search for the goal. They are, obviously, not the same although sometimes we confuse the two. I continue to search in many different places and in many varied ways. However, my goal has remained constant. There is no compromise, no settling, in my vision as an artist and a person.

Sure, there is a price to pay to be steadfast in our personal pursuits.The world has a tendency to reward homogeneity and punish personal independence. But, if we settle for the status quo, we may never achieve (or, even KNOW) our full potential. And, this, my friends is truly one of life's tragedies. A life not well lived is hardly a life at all.

So, make your goals great - and, never settle for less.

Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose . . .  

Today's MOZEN: A Brief History of Mother's Day

Words and Photo by F LoBuono

Generally, I eschew (a fancy word for avoid) anything that I feel is over-commercialized or hyped. Valentine's Day immediately comes to mind. In an effort to aid flagging sales between Christmas and Easter, a Hallmark executive came up with the brilliant idea of turning an obscure Christian holiday (borrowed from the pagans) into a commercial juggernaut. So much for true love - of MONEY, maybe. And, that's the truth folks. Not one of my favorites.

Mother's Day has a similar history. The origin of the celebration of Motherhood can be traced to many cultures in ancient times who celebrated the Goddess and fertility. Eventually, it too was usurped by the Christians who in turn used the day for people to renew their faith in "Mother Church". The genesis of the modern day equivalent can be traced to the years just before the Civil War and Anne Reeves Jarvis of West Virginia. In the beginning, she conducted classes on mothering skills to poor women. Eventually, after the Civil War(1868), she created Mother's Friendship Day to promote reconciliation between the mothers of both Union and Confederate troops. Among others, the suffragette Julia Ward Howe advanced the cause of celebrating motherhood by calling for all mothers to unite to promote world peace and to honor that with a Mother's Peace Day.

But, perhaps, the person most responsible for today's version of Mother's Day is Anne Reeves Jarvis' daughter, Anna Jarvis. After her mother's death in 1905, Anna worked tirelessly to honor her mother's memory by creating a Mother's Day to formally ackowledge the sacrifice all mothers make on behalf of their children. In 1908, with the help of wealthy Philadelphia store owner, John Wanamaker, she organized the first "modern" celebration in a Methodist Church in West Virginia. Thousands of others celebrated at the same time at Wanamaker's retail store in Philadelphia. Anna Jarvis continued lobbying tirelessly for a National Holiday honoring mothers. Her persistence paid of when, in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed the second Sunday in May to be designated as Mother's Day. It's been with us ever since.

Interestingly, by the time of her death in 1948, the never married, childless Anna Jarvis had completely distanced herself from the celebration of the day, sighting what she saw as over-commercialization of the original concept. In fact, she even actively lobbied to have it removed from the American calendar.

So, you see my point. However, still, there seems to be something about this day that I don't find in Valentine's Day. Whereas Valentine's Day seems very much about BUYING something to prove our love, Mother's Day seems to be more about EXPRESSING our love for our mothers and the sacrifices they have made for all of us. It's more about sharing and togetherness than it is an attempt to PROVE our love. It is much more organic. And, you don't have to BE a mother or still have one to feel it. A mother's true love is never lost. To me, this is what this day is all about. And, judging from the wonderful comments and photos that I've been reading and seeing on Facebook convinces me that I'm not the only one. :)

HAPPY MOTHER'S TO ALL - AND, I MEAN ALL!

MOTHER'S DAY 2016

Words and photo by F LoBuono

We love our mothers. Well, certainly most of us do. I certainly love Stella. And, I know that she loves me unconditionally. But, the question remains, do you like your mother?

The answer concerning mine is an unequivocal and resounding YES! Stella is easy to love. She is bright, cheery, compassionate, and, generally, easy going. She enjoys life and wants those around her to enjoy theirs, too. She gives much and asks little in return. This is the love. But, I also LIKE her for much of the same reasons and more.

She and I can converse on just about anything - from politics to sex - yes, sex. How many of you can say you can have adult conversations about sex with your 92 year-old mom?! She is intelligent and fearless. Although a product of her time, her mind is clear, open, and ready to discuss, if not accept (at least right away), new concepts. She prizes honesty above all else. And, she does not suffer fools easily.

I admire all of these traits and would look for them in a friend. Well, I've found one in the person who is closest to me and I have known my entire life. Simply put, I enjoy the hell out of her company! I always have. Perhaps, that's why I call her by her first name, Stella. Some may see that as a sign of disrespect. They shouldn't. In fact, it is an indication that I not only love her, but I LIKE her, as well. Besides, it means Star and I couldn't think of a more appropriate name.

Maybe, this makes me a Mamma's Boy. So be it. I don't care. One of the things that Stella has taught me is to ignore labels anyway.

I am fortunate to have her for yet another Mother's Day. But, between Stella and I, almost everyday is Mother's Day! I hope that all of you can say the same. But, even if your mother has passed, in her heart - and yours - she has never really left. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY - ALL!

When You Think About It. Appearance Counts

Photo CNN/Words F LoBuono

They say that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I get the metaphor: it's what's inside that counts the most. And, I agree - basically. It's important to avoid shallow misconceptions based solely on perception. Still, when you think about it, there are thousands of artists who design book covers who would disagree. It is a well known fact that many readers simply buy a book because they are impressed by the cover art. It's what attracts them to the book in the first place. Without that "hook", most books would never get read. Therefore, appearances ARE important - very important.

The same can be said of the human condition.

There is ALWAYS a message in appearances, including our own. Always. It is inevitable. As social animals, judging by appearance is even critical. As soon as meet someone we are judging them: friend or foe - fight or flight. It happens immediately and can even be measured physiologically. So, how we present ourselves, providing a first and maybe ONLY impression, is ultra-important. In a sense, it would not be inaccurate to say we are what we show. Some people are peacocks while others are are just plain 'ol sparrows. Each sends its own message. Spectacular or plain there is something said by each. What lies beneath may be a different matter entirely and should not be dismissed. However, what's on the surface matters, too.

With this in mind, I am attempting to fathom exactly what the presumptive GOP nominee for President of the United States, Donald Trump, wants us to take away from HIS appearance.

First, let's analyze The Hair. It's HUGE! As a photographer, I've seen it up close. And, it's a thing of engineering beauty. It appears to be some type of complex "layering" with whatever hair he actually has left. He takes a very long clump of it and swirls it upon itself to create the appearance of an abundant amount of hair.  The look achieved might be described as a POMPADOUR. But, he doesn't actually have a LOT of hair. He has SOME hair that he uses to create the impression that he is not so follically challenged. In other words, it's a ruse.

Then, there's the color of his skin. By it's unnaturally golden "glow" I assume that Mr. Trump is either using some type of artificial skin "bronzer", or spends a good deal of his spare time in a tanning both. The fact that his eyes appear lighter than the rest of his face leads me to believe that he is wearing goggles when he artificially tans, making the latter scenario most likely. One way or the other, under certain lighting condition, the combination of hair and fake tan creates the illusion of a GOLDEN MAN. Because of this, I've always want to call him GoldFinger, after the legendary gold worshiping villain of Bond movie fame!

So, when you think about it, what, exactly, does this man want us to take from his appearance? What message is he sending within what he shows us?

I think that it's pretty obvious - everything about it says, I'm Big. I'm Bold. I'm Brassy (and I'm fake). Without even taking his aggressive body language and speech into consideration it should be obvious to nearly everyone that this man is an Egomaniac and a Narcissist. It's written all over him - literally. In other words, he is very impressed with himself and he needs the world to know it. He might as well stand there and scream, LOOK AT ME. LOOK HOW WEALTHY I AM!

Personally, I don't care about his gold - either in his pocket or splashed over his hair and face. It's not what I am about and I don't care for it much in people - especially those I expect to lead this Country. It's a fake appearance - a phony visage that's all Sound and Fury signifying nothing. Money can't buy everything. It sure can't buy my vote. Do not be fooled by False Profits and Phony Saviors.

Today's Mostly True Short Story: Stella Wisdom

F LoBuono

Stella and I were driving down Palisades Avenue through the "old neighborhood". And, I do mean OLD - Cliffside Park, NJ. My father brought by mother here from her beloved Brooklyn, to his childhood home for their first domicile together. That was over sixty years ago. I spent the first three years of my life in a small, one bedroom apartment with my older sister and younger brother on Knox Ave. in the heart of the borough. My father moved us to Fort Lee, and a new life, by the time I was just three. And, after he and his siblings sold the family business there (a deli), a few years later, the strong connection was really broken. As a younger man, I had a great apartment there for a short time. But, it had been a very long time since Stella had any direct connection to the town.

I had business with a shop that frames my photographs and I convinced Stella to take the ride with me. Besides, it was close enough to one of our favorite, little seafood restaurants, Rudy's, to stop for lunch. It was on the south side of town, so we could sight see a bit as we drove to the place. We couldn't help but notice how much it had changed. It was a classic northern NJ, old town that, even though very much in the shadow of the Greatest City in the World, had it's own powerful identity. Mostly Italian, Irish, and a bit Polish, these first generation inhabitants could be tough as nails. They kept neat, well-trimmed homes in safe neighborhoods. They may not have had a lot of money, but they had each other. And, that made the 'hood very safe.

The place had certainly changed. And, why not? It was more vibrant then ever! More ethnic groups were represented with shops showing Arabic, Korean, and Turkish names. Some of the well-trimmed, intimate neighborhoods still existed. Unfortunately, some of them, however, were replaced with giant residential towers and garish McMansions. Still, there was a strong sense of NEW life there. I liked it.

As we continued our sojourn, Stella remarked about how much the town had changed. I replied:

Of course, it's changed, Stella, it's been a very long time since you've been here. Like forty years!

Wow. I guess you're right, Frankie

Sure, Stella. I just turned 61. I'm a middle-aged man, now. And, you're in your 90's. You're an old lady. Times change. We've changed!

How the hell did that happen, Frankie?!

The message was pure Stella. And, perfectly clear: in her mind, despite her increasing infirmities, she does not THINK like an "Old Person". Therefore, she is not OLD. Age is a state of mind.

Of course, I agree - Stella Maris - Star of the Sea.

Happy Mother's Day to All. Long may you reign. 

Today's Mostly True Short Story: The Bathrobe

F LoBuono

Because I had worked most of the night before, my so-called ex, Catherine, was nice enough to offer to bring our dog, Rexie, to my apartment on her way to work. We share custody and I like to keep him with me at my apartment when I have a day off (like I did that day). It's complicated - like my relationship. Anyway, I had planned to pick him up after I got a little much needed shut eye. But, bringing him to me would certainly give us more time together. She said that she would drop him off around 830 that morning.

I got home from work around 730, made myself a cup of coffee and turned on the computer and TV to relax a bit. I had about an hour to kill before they would get there, so I decided to get a bit more comfortable. Figuring that Catherine could just let the dog out when she got here and he would simply run up the steps of the porch to greet  me, I got out of my clothes and into my nice, warm bathrobe - perfect for the raw, rainy day that it was. Besides, I wasn't going anywhere except eventually to bed. Catherine texted to tell me that she was a block away and asked if I could come out for the dog. I went to the back porch, in my bathrobe, clutching my coffee cup. and waited. She pulled up and I mentioned her to let the dog out. She rolled down the window and yelled:

Can you please come down and get him?

Just let him out of the car. He'll come right up, I bellowed back.

But, it's raining and I don't want to get out in the rain, she responded over the sound of the drops.

Well, I'm in my bathrobe!

Since when has that EVER stopped you?

I hesitated for a second and pondered what she had just said. Then, nodding my head and laughing -

INDEED. But, it will only take you a moment to just open the friggin' door and let him out!

With a hrumpf and a giggle, she jumped out of the driver's seat and opened the rear door, unleashing the hound. He bounded up the steps and nearly knocked me over. She dashed back into the car, put it in gear, beeped, and went on her way.

I guess she does know me, more than I often give her credit for.

Today's Photo Gallery: New York at Dawn in the Rain. May 2016

All photos the property of F LoBuono

Today's MOZEN: Acceptance

Words and photo by F LoBuono

                               I do not KNOW.
                                       I cannot KNOW.
                                             I can only ACCEPT. . .