For Jerry

F LoBuono

We buried a most remarkable man today; Jerry Donnellan. And, as if the very Heavens cooperated, it dawned as his Irish ancestors would call a soft day - overcast with a benign mist falling like the sky was gently crying.

Thousands came, and rightly so, to honor him. Their memories brought both tears and laughter - because that was the essence of the man. He was many things to many people. To me, he was friend and mentor. And, he taught me a life lesson that I have never forgotten - to pay it forward, ALWAYS - as he did, ALWAYS. Find peace by sacrificing for the good of others.

Whenever I give of myself without reservation to someone in need I am honoring Jerry. I did it while he lived and now I will continue it to honor his memory. This is his legacy to me.

So, let the pipes call you home, my friend, and the gentle mist cradle you in its bosom. Your mission here is complete.

When You Think About It: The Code of Bushido

F LoBuono

As the gun control debate continues to rage, I thought that this might add some perspective: when it comes to gun safety, virtually no one does it better than the Japanese. Their murder rate by firearm there is virtually non-existent. Japan rarely sees more than 10 gun deaths/year. Less than 10. Excluding suicides, the U.S. recorded over 15,000 in 2017! 15,000*.

Think about that - Less than 10 compared to over 15,000!

Why? How?

Both cultures might be classified as "macho", i.e. having a warrior class. We often identify with the romance of the Wild West and how cowboys, with their trusty six-shooters and repeating rifles, conquered a hostile land. The Japanese also take pride in their warrior code, known as Bushido, embodied by the Samurai. Certainly, the courage and fierce nature of the Samurai is legendary.

So, what's the difference?

Well, in my mind, we are a culture that worships guns and the extreme violence they cause. A popular military slogan (you can even have it printed on a T-shirt) is; KILL THEM ALL AND LET GOD SORT THEM OUT. In other words, the more efficient the killer, the greater the reward. We even have a Constitutional amendment that insures that firearms will remain a part of our culture forever.

In Japan, this is not the case. In fact, it's quite the opposite. It is EXTREMELY difficult to purchase a firearm - ANY type of firearm. You must go through extensive training and a long waiting period. So, there is a very limited pool of people who own guns. Research confirms that LESS GUNS = LESS GUN DEATHS. Japan is living proof of these studies.

And, THEY DON'T CARE! If they did, they would change their laws. But, they don't. They are perfectly happy with their code of Bushido, which as a moral code, honors and respects individual combat - not mass murder. They simply see no point in acquiring weapons of mass destruction. And, they live in relative freedom from the fear of it.

So, WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, the choice is ours!

*https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/07/a-land-without-guns-how-japan-has-virtually-eliminated-shooting-deaths/260189/

The Measure of a Man: Jerry Donnellan

F LoBuono

When one lives as full a life as Jerry Donnellan, there certainly will be no shortage of tales to regale him by. My memories of him are loaded with stories of courage, integrity, philanthropy, charm, and wit that made him exceptional in every way.

But, this is the one that I choose to remember most - the story that, for me, captures the real essence of the man:

I had lost my first television job and was in that twilight zone between endeavors, searching for a permanent solution but taking any odd job that offered payment. I'm pretty good with tools and have a back as strong as a mule's, so I figured I would do handy-man gigs to try and pay my rent.

Jerry got word that I was looking for work. He called and told me that he needed some repairs done on the houseboat he lived on which was docked at the Nyack Marina (it was eventually destroyed by Hurricane Sandy). I went down to his place and inspected the job. Being a long time friend, I wanted to be as honest as possible with him. I told him that I felt that the work needed was beyond my skill level. I mean, I could do some basic carpentry and painting but this involved repairs that could not easily be hidden. If it wasn't done properly, it could effect the appearance of his home! His response was classic Jerry: I don't care. Just do the best that you can.

The point was this: he could have easily hired someone more skilled than me. He had the means and the contacts. But, ultimately, the quality of the repair was not that important to him. The fact that he could help me by giving me MEANINGFUL WORK was! It was not charity - it was employment. He never let me lose my dignity. And, he did this for virtually EVERYONE.

I did the best that I could - which was not terribly good. Jerry inspected the work, said it suited him just fine and paid me cash on the spot. I almost cried with gratitude.

THIS was the man - giving without question, ennobling everyone he met. He used the experience of a body broken in battle and instead of becoming angry and bitter, empowered the lives of countless others. What he accomplished for the veterans of not only this County but throughout the Country is immeasurable. He was a hero in every sense of the word. And, once again, our little village is a little less bright today . . .

Just A Wonderful Neighbor

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Friends, neighbors, will you allow me one last word on the passing of our brother, Paul O'Donoghue?

So much has been said already and, still, there is more to tell. But, I think one person's statement probably best sums up the relationship that Paul had to the Nyack community and how it embraced him in return.

When I wrote that the hundreds, if not thousands, of people filled Hanneman's Funeral Home in Nyack, most waiting for hours, was a testament to his memory, it elicited a wonderful response with many of Paul's friends sharing their own remembrances of him with us. However, perhaps, former Nyack mayor Terry Hekker expressed Paul's relationship to his hometown most perfectly:

Only in Nyack could there be such a huge turnout of mourners for a man who wasn't rich or famous. Just a wonderful neighbor.

It's why we live here. Rest well, our brother.

Today's MOZEN: Have You No Decency?

F LoBuono

It was a dark time in our Nation that came to be known as The McCarthy Era (1946-1957). Named after Republican Senator Joseph McCarthy, who, in an effort to gain political power, led a series of congressional hearings aimed at routing out Communists and other subversives that he believed had infiltrated the highest offices of the Federal Government. In addition, he saw Communist sympathizers in every corner of Hollywood and, through his hearings, subsequently destroyed many a creative career. This, too, bears its own shameful moniker: The Blacklist. McCarthy capitalized on the almost irrational fear of Communism, a.k.a. The Cold War, created by the rise of China and the Soviet Union in the years immediately after WWII.

He was all about FEAR AND LOATHING.

McCarthy's rise was meteoric and unexpected. His power was unquestioned - to do so was to be labeled a COMMUNIST - at that time, the kiss of death for anyone's career. He badgered and blustered. He ran roughshod over anyone who opposed him. The Senator from Wisconsin was feared but also respected by many - until he wasn't.

On June 4th, 1954, the Senator was holding one of his infamous hearings, this time attacking the integrity of the US Army. The hearings were being broadcast LIVE in front of a national TV audience. McCarthy, along with his lawyer, the later disgraced Roy Cohn, claimed to have a list of over 130 people in the highest positions in the Army whom were either Communists or Subversives. During questioning, the Chief Counsel for the Army, Joseph N. Welch, challenged them to produce the list. They could not. In a heated exchange, McCarthy then attacked the integrity of one of Mr. Welch's legal associates. That claim also had no merit. That's when Welch, in frustration and disgust, lost it and uttered these famous words:

You've done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?

After the exchange, the gallery erupted in applause. The audience watching at home had a similar reaction - joy that the tables had been turned - no longer would Mr. McCarthy intimidate innocent people with the tactics of a boorish bully bent solely on advancing his own career and fame at the expense of others. His grip was broken. In a bit of irony, McCarthy died of throat cancer in 1957.

I see an awful lot of Joe McCarthy in our current President, Donald J; Trump. He blusters and he bullies. In fact, he is the ultimate ruffian with the World's Most Powerful Bully Pulpit at his disposal. He destroys others for his own gain. He makes false claims that he cannot prove. In my mind, he has absolutely NO redeeming values at all.

So, the question remains, who will be OUR Joseph N. Welch? Who will have the courage - and, the position - to say, Mr. President, You've done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?

To My Friend, Paul O'Donoghue

We have lost a giant.

Paul O'Donoghue was a towering figure.

He was smart.
He was funny.
He was warm.
He was deep.
He was generous.
And, he was flawed.
But, above all, he was a most gentle man.

I loved him.

The tributes that are pouring in by the hundreds are a testament to his impact on his family, friends, and entire community. This village, in which he lived his entire life, is a lesser place this morning. Christmas, without Paul as Santa, can never be the same. My dog, and hundreds of others, will not receive the biscuit treats that he constantly kept in his pocket. And, personally, I will miss him stopping his bike ride to say, "Frankie, how's life treating ya'?"

I believe that it's safe to say that Paul's life touched hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. I know that he touched mine in ways that will never be forgotten. Over the course of time, I could share dozens of Paul O'D stories of humor, charm, and, yes, a bit of lunacy.

I'm sure that many of you have your own memories and fitting stories of Paul. I hope that you will share them over the course of time. It hurts very much right now to think that we will not see him again, well, all over town. But, in time, his wonderful legacy will make us smile again.

Now, let there be peace - to his many friends, and, most of all, to his equally wonderful family.

Today's MOZEN: A House for Sale

F LoBuono

My house goes on the market this week. It's about time. Even though I co-own it, I haven't actually lived there in nearly 6 years. Still, the idea of giving it up has filled me with a deep, abiding sadness.

It's a beautiful house; a 1931 Center Hall Colonial, with a fireplace and many other unique architectural elements on nearly 2 sculpted acres. Located at the base of a State Park and the magnificent Palisades, it has spectacular Hudson River views, as well.

She sure is a beauty.

And, it was the culmination of a lifetime of dreams and hard work.

When I got married, I owned a small house in Nyack that suited me just perfectly. But, the woman I married had 3 sons. The idea of fitting all of us into that small abode was simply impractical. Since she and I were both gainfully employed and making a decent living, it was time to move out - and, up! So, we packed up the kids and moved 10 miles up-river to Haverstraw, NY.

At first, the house was everything that we hoped it would be - a center for family, friends, and a life well lived. In the summer, we had barbecues in our spacious backyard. In the fall, for the football season, I would cook virtually every Sunday for many in our redesigned kitchen. We had massive fires in our living room during the cold winter months. There was light and there was love.

Then, it all changed. It's become a symbol of my failure.

My wife and I drifted. We stopped being the priority in each others' lives. This would be the kiss of death for our relationship. Eventually, she decided that she wanted to try living a different life and left. It was supposed to be for 10 weeks only. However, during the course of those weeks, things just kept getting worse and worse. Everything simply collapsed. Living there under those conditions became simply untenable for me. When she finally came back I left, never to return.

And, here we are.

I rebuilt my life in Nyack and have never looked back. Failure was not an option. But, I am not made of stone. It hurts to think how much we had and, therefore, how much we lost. That house was a symbol of everything that I had worked my whole life to achieve. It was a home. Now, it's just a house for sale - an investment. I've moved on. I've had to.

So, if you know of anyone looking for a magnificent house with lots of good memories built in, please send them my way . . .

Today's MOZEN: Privilege

F LoBuono

Let’s face it. Most of the people that I know live lives of privilege. You may not be a person of great means, but that does not equate to privilege – at least not in the context that I intend to use in this case.

This past week, our area was hit by a major Nor’easter – which is basically our term for a type of hurricane. The storm was pretty brutal; powerful enough to blow over tractor trailers and topple huge tress. Of course, those disasters led to other calamities like enormous danger on the roads and the associated traffic nightmares, as well as downed power lines.

So, millions of people spent countless hours snarled in traffic, while hundreds of thousands of others were left without power. Some are still left in the dark and without heat on a cold winter’s morning. Although I saw some enormous trees felled in my neighborhood and heard the constant wail of sirens, my apartment was relatively unscathed: I had heat and power but no Cable TV or Internet. And, it continues the same way more than 48 hours later.

It was when I woke this morning that I the whole privilege thing struck me. I went to turn on the TV to get the latest information on storm damage. I noticed that the time was accurately displayed on the front of my cable box. This had not been the case for the previous 2 days. Therefore, I assumed that the outage was over, and I would have my cable and Internet back. Well, low and behold, power on, my TV brightens, and I get this message: “This channel is currently unavailable” and blah, blah, blah.  My Internet was also unavailable. I must admit that I was put off by all of it – after all, it had been DAYS since we were stuck by the storm, why is not repaired yet?

Think about that. And, try to give it some perspective.

As I sit here, writing, I can hear the chain saws of the utility crews working virtually around the clock to clean up the mess left by these massive, fallen trees. Having been in the Cable TV business, I know how hard they must be working. Still, despite that, I wanted my Cable and Internet when I wanted it – I pay for it – now, give it to me! All of us fully expect that when we flick that switch there will be light, comfort, and ease.

Think about that: I sit here, in a warm room with enough power and light to write this post in relative comfort. Still, I am (or, WAS – even for a moment) annoyed that I didn’t have EVERYTHING that I am totally accustomed to!

That, my friends, is privilege.

While we endured a few days (at least for the great majority of us) with nothing more than mere inconvenience, millions of our fellow citizens in Puerto Rico suffered for MONTHS with no electricity, Internet, food, or clean water! Many still do. We have taken for granted that our lives are filled with comforts provided by an army of unseen labor, without whose efforts we would still be living in the dark – literally.

Let us not forget our great privilege – nor, those for whom are, perhaps, not as fortunate. It just may brighten up your day.

In the meantime, I’ll just wait for my Internet to return so I can publish this post. That is all.