Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: The Eagle

The Tappan Zee (photo F LoBuono)

It started out as a pretty routine commute. Except, instead of my usual route heading south and crossing into NYC via the George Washington Bridge, I decided to take the new Mario A. Cuomo Bridge over the Tappan Zee and into town from there (I'll leave the name controversy for another post).

It was an unusually warm afternoon and the traffic surprisingly (and, wonderfully) light. I set my cruise control for 63 mph as I merged onto the bridge. I just started up the incline towards center span when I noticed a bird flying solo in the distance and about to transect the bridge. What struck me about the bird was how brilliantly white most of it appeared to be. Being over the water, I assumed it to be one of the many seagulls that inhabit the area.

American Bald Eagle (photo source unknown

However, as I approached the crest of the bridge's incline, the bird was just about directly above me and I could see it more clearly. And, it wasn't a seagull at all. It was a fully mature Bald Eagle in full flight, massive wings catching the updrafts, propelling it effortlessly over the span, bright white head and tail feathers almost blinding in the afternoon sun. What a magnificent creature. What a breathtaking sight!

Of course, it was over in an instant. The eagle continued his journey and, me, mine.  Still, in those brief seconds I could not help but consider two things: First, how fortunate am I to live in an area to encounter such an incredible animal? And, second, the significance of the presence of a Bald eagle, the symbol of American independence and commitment to freedom, regardless of the cost, on a Memorial Day Weekend when we honor our war dead, was not lost on me.

                                                               NEVER FORGET.

F LoBuono

When You Think About It: Perspective

F loBuono

In order to do what he does best - spread Fear and Loathing - President Trump has created a scenario for his base where a filthy, tattooed, violent, swarthy Hispanic male is lurking around every corner just waiting to rape and murder white women. In fact, he has based his entire immigration policy on it. Using the violent street gang MS-13 that originated mostly in El Salvador and then flourished in Los Angeles as his foil, Mr. Trump has whipped his base into a frenzy of immigrant paranoia.

Now, make no mistake about it, MS-13, or Mara Salvatrucha in Spanish, is a vicious, violent, brutal entity. From Los Angeles, they have spread their evil activities to virtually every major city in the US. They have been held responsible for merciless killings of women and children in Long Island and elsewhere. There is no doubt that it is a law enforcement imperative to eradicate this bloodthirsty criminal organization.

However, to characterize ALL immigrants from South of our border as murderers and rapists (yes, Mr. Trump DID say that on June 16, 2015) is just plain ludicrous!

Allow me to present some perspective:

It has been estimated that there are approximately 10,000 members of the MS-13 gang living in the US - how they arrived here is not entirely know. It is also estimated that there are about 43,000,000 immigrants in this Country. If you do the math, that works out to a percentage of .025. Yes, that' less than 1%. Let me spell that out for you: MS-13 members represent approximately one quarter of one percent of all immigrants. In other words, that's negligible.

As is so typical of this administration, the hyperbole FAR exceeds the reality. So, when you think about it, to base an entire immigrant policy based on .025% is simply foolish. But, it sure makes for some impassioned scapegoating - makes thinking by the base less imperative and, therefore, effective.

But, I'll say it again - you get what you pay for . . .

Today's MOZEN: Me and Rex

Me and Rex

It's only been a few days since I lost my most beloved companion, Rex. So, of course, I still have a sense of deep loss. I'm at the stage where I am encountering, for the first time, things that I did with him that I no longer need to do. Some of them became so routine that I never even thought about them - until now.

We had such a long run, 14 years, so it's hard not to be grateful for the wonderful time together. And, thankfully, he maintained his vigor for the great majority of his life and his decline was relatively painless and rapid. If I took the time to punish myself for the fact that he's gone, I'm sure that I could find things that I would do differently. But, not many. Besides, life is for learning and we learned a lot about one another in those 14 years.

In the beginning, I never even wanted him - I inherited him from my stepson who had rescued him from a shelter in New Jersey. He was big, wild, and raw. I could see why someone not accustomed to big, powerful dogs would bring him to a shelter. However, over the course of those many years, I went from resenting him to devoting a good portion of my life to make his as full as possible.  In return, he truly became MY DOG. And, we were the best of friends because of it. So, I have no regrets but, maybe one: I wish that he would have left us of his own accord. We had to help him begin that new journey. However, there was no other way. We had to be strong for him, and with great compassion, did what needed to be done.

I really don't know what happens to our souls after we leave this body/existence. My faith does not tack in that direction. But, I do believe that we have an energy that is embodied in what we call the soul. I also believe that ALL sentient beings, including dogs, are endowed with one. It may be in different degrees of development, but we all have one. So, I'm not sure if he crossed any Rainbow Bridges, but it sure is a nice sentiment anyway. And, I do sense that his energy, i.e. soul, has simply changed form - to which, I do not know - yet. My hope is that someday, perhaps in a dream, he will reveal it to me.

What I do know is that, if I accept it, this is also a most sacred time. It has forced me to reevaluate what is most important to me in my life - what matters and what simply does not. Rex showed me to be true to what my core is (as was he), to live simply and with dignity (as he did).

Another positive that has come from this event is the incredible outpouring of support for me and Rex. In fact, it's been overwhelming. It is a testament to the incredible transcendent power of love. The effect this humble creature, a dog, had on so many, is extraordinary. And, most people never even met him. They simply sensed it in his expression from the many photographs I shared of him on social media. THAT'S the soul I speak of. THAT'S what endures.

So, yes, it's OK to miss my buddy. I always will. But, I can't go back - only ahead. With that in mind, in honor of our time together, I will do more to be kinder, even more open, and, above all, do my best to love greater.

When You Think About It: COMPASSION

Words and photo by F LoBuono

When you think about it, the concept of COMPASSION is really quite a simple one: it means to do the right things as we know them to be, regardless of risk OR reward. It is to help anyone (human or animal) without judgement or complaint. Its ultimate goal is equally sublime - to ease, if not eliminate, suffering.

Well, at least it does to me.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: A Movie Encounter

Rex and Frank LoBuono

Rexie and I were taking one of our daily sojourns from my apartment in South Nyack into downtown Nyack. With his advanced age (about 147 in human years!), we go at his pace - which is one or two steps slower than a snail's. But, that's OK. At 14+, he's earned the right to take his time.

We were on our way to the little grocery market on the north side of Broadway to get some basics when I noticed a movie set at the corner of Main and Broadway. Apparently, the HBO series "Ray Donovan" was shooting at O'Donoghues Tavern. The principal, Liev Schreiber, was in front of the tavern being filmed with a Steadycam. I stayed long enough to make a photo and then went on with my business.

Scene from "Ray Donovan" in Nyack

On the way back they were still shooting but I did not linger to observe. Instead, a woman approached me as I was crossing the intersection. She was middle-aged with artificially black hair. As it had started to rain gently, she was carrying a bright blue umbrella. Ironically, at the same time, she was wearing rose-tinted sunglasses, reminiscent of the old hippy days.

I thought perhaps someone from the production noticed Rexie and I crossing and they were going to ask us to make a cameo appearance. ;)

She came right up to me and, instead of inviting us on set, said: OMG, your dog is starving! Please feed him!

I replied: I beg your pardon?

She continued: we were watching from the set and we were all shocked at the condition of your dog.

Smiling, I explained to her that Rexie is painfully thin because, to borrow a phrase, he's older than dirt and, because of that, we not able to keep his weight on anymore.

The woman persisted: PLEASE. PLEASE feed him! He looks so SAD.

Rather than losing my cool, I continued smiling and once again tried to explain that the dog eats better than I do. He was happy, in no pain or distress, and loving the golden years of his life. I also thanked her for her concern. This seemed to calm her fears enough to go back to her own business.

Now, in hindsight, I'm kind of proud of myself. I could have been a hell of a lot more rude and told the woman to mind her business. But, I stopped myself in time by telling myself that the woman's motivation was well-intentioned - if you didn't know it, Rexie does look a little sad. So, instead of telling her to piss off, I thanked her for taking the time to find out.

I'm getting better at this.

Indeed.

Today's MOZEN: Immigrants

In response to White House Chief of Staff, John Kelly's comment on the inadequacies of immigrants:

My Grandparents, Frank and Theresa Vitanza

My grandfather was an illiterate stone mason from San Salvatore di Fitallia, Sicily. I am a college professor. That's how it works.

When You Think About It: CRACK-CRACK-CRACK

F LoBuono

For my money, hitting a baseball is one of the most difficult things to do in sports - and, I've played just about them all. The very nature of attempting to strike a small spherical object hurling through the air at speeds in excess of 90 MPH with a long stick that's thicker on one end than the other defies the laws of physics. It is so difficult that the very best in their profession fail at it 70% of the time and are still considered Super Stars.

And, to be that good at it, some have made it a SCIENCE - including how to prepare your tool, i.e. bat.

When I was a kid, I had a neighbor who viewed it that way. He was a bit older. So, I kind of looked up to him like a big brother. And, he was crazy about baseball. I was, too. This was in the 60's and only bats made of wood were available. The very idea of the aluminum bats that would come to revolutionize the entire game except for the pro ranks was still decades away. They could vary in weight, length, and relative shape but, wood was the only choice. If you did have an "option" it was in the type of wood used to create the bat, i.e. pine or ash. Ash, being the harder wood, was always our preference.

Whenever my friend purchased a new bat he had a ritual to prepare it before actual game use. First, he would use a thin turpentine solution to remove the varnish from the bat. He claimed that the raw wood provided a better surface for both gripping and contact. Next, he used a fine sandpaper to slightly shave the handle until it was a smooth as a babies' bottom. Then, he placed a few inches of a sticky substance known as Pine Tar, used to help improve one's grip, about half-way up the shaft. Then, and only then, was the bat properly prepared to fulfill its destiny. And, it was never abused. It was transported and stored with great care. One NEVER used a bat as is typical for Hollywood movies; banging it against one's cleats to remove the mud from them, ruining the surface by leaving marks on the wood! Only in caring for your tool could you hope to compete on the highest levels.

As I mentioned previously, with the exception of professional baseball, ALL teams now use aluminum bats. Obviously, wooden bats have a shelf-life considerably shorter than that of an aluminum one. And, this has proven a huge advantage to teams on a limited budgets (like high schools and Little Leagues) - yes, replacing bats can get expensive. The way this has altered the game itself is a discussion for another posting. Let's just say that everything changes and baseball is no exception.

The other day, I was walking the Fordham University campus in the Bronx when I heard PING- PING-PING coming from the area of the baseball field. I knew that it could only be one thing: batting practice. I walked over to observe the session for 10 or 15 minutes. The game was basically played the same way it has always been: pitch ball - attempt to hit ball. But, I have to admit the sound of PING-PING-PING will never take the place of CRACK-CRACK-CRACK - the unmistakable sound of ball striking a well-made, wooden bat. . .

Today's MOZEN: White Privilege

F LoBuono

As I sat in a lawn chair in the spacious backyard of my apartment, verdant grass around me, surrounded by flowering trees of various fragrant varieties, flanked by the fresh vegetable garden I planted, drinking in the warm rays of a late spring sun, the latest edition of The New Yorker in my hands, gentle flute music wafted from the open windows of my neighbors home.

And, I had no worries . . .  

Today's MOZEN: God, Guns, Country

F LoBuono

Perhaps, you've seen them - the campaign ads for Brian Kemp, the current Attorney General of the State of Georgia and Republican candidate for governor. They are making the rounds on national TV because of the nature of their message: god, guns, Country - with a heavy emphasis on the guns. In one ad, he sits next to a young man with a shotgun across his lap. He questions the young man as to his intentions towards his daughter. The youngster responds sheepishly that he will respect Mr. Kemp's daughter and, of equal importance, the 2nd Amendment. Kemp snaps the open shotgun's breach closed with a click of approval.

Really.

It might be funny as comedy skit but it does not work as well as a theme for a person running for Governor!

In another ad, Mr. Kemp explains that he owns a large vehicle as he opens the door to step into said enormous pickup truck. While he does, he says (paraphrasing): I own a large truck with plenty of room to throw illegals in the back and drive them to where they came from. And, yes. I just said that.

Really. With a BIG smile on his face, his makes no apologies for his naked bigotry. In fact, he's proud of it - and, his supporters love it!

Again, it might be funny as a comedy routine  . . .

People like Brian Kemp are not unique (see Don Blakenship of West Virginia), nor are they new. They number in the millions and have been with us since the formation of this Country. They are the zealots and bigots who hide under the guise of phony Christianity and sycophantic patriotism, waiting for the opportunity to rear their ugly heads. And, now, they have been given a full-throated rebirth in the presence of one Donald J. Trump.

Make no mistake about it. These people believe in their hearts that they are Making America Great Again. The problem is that THEIR vision of America is one of EXCLUSION instead of INCLUSION, NO rather than YES, and HATE over LOVE. They loath the word PROGRESSIVE because they are stuck in a time that never really existed. The have forgotten that Jim Crow, backroom abortions, Child Labor, 70-hour work weeks, race-based lynchings, and voting inequality  (women didn't receive the right to vote until 1920) to name just a few, were all part of the good ol' days. And, then they will call you an elitist if you've had the audacity to educate yourself to improve your own lot in life!

Well, for my money, that ain't very good at all!

People in rural areas have complained that they are a forgotten lot. And, unfortunately, that is mostly true. We have tended to focus our attention on urban areas while much of Middle America went to pot. However, they manifested that hurt and anger into a sort of revolution that elected a man woefully inadequate for the job. But, he tells them WHAT THEY WANT TO HEAR and, in their limited capacity to see into the future, he helps them to cling to a past that wasn't all that great in the first place.

Today's MOZEN: More Stormy Weather

F LoBuono

Again, let me make this simple, blunt, and even a little vulgar. Perhaps, in this way, the people who need to read this the most might actual see some reason in it:

I don't give a shit who Donald Trump fucked and when he did.

There, I said it.

In the bigger picture, it simply does not matter. That's ultimately between him, his wife, and his god. Besides, I'm no Boy Scout and don't expect others to be. The fact that I find it morally repugnant and the very idea of it repulsive, is immaterial. It should not necessarily effect his ability to lead. And, I'll leave the morality of it all to others.

What I do care about - VERY MUCH - is the fucking truth. And, that is something that does not seem to exist in the world of Donald J. Trump. Virtually every word out of this man's mouth is either an exaggeration, a fabrication, or a bloviation, if not a downright, in-your-face, lie.

Apparently, there is something deep within him that prevents him from connecting with the truth.

He lies to his friends and associates.

He lies to the press.

He lies in private.

He lies in public.

He lies to his children.

He lies to his wife.

And, perhaps, worst of all, he lies to the people - each and every fucking one of us - every fucking day!!

I consider myself as tolerant as most. And, I'm working on improving in that area. Besides, life is too short. I try to live by "don't sweat the small stuff". So, I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. However, I cannot - I WILL NOT tolerate a liar. This goes well beyond political affiliation.

And, I don't understand -or, appreciate - those who do - beyond THEIR political affiliation.

Most people who read this blog are like minded. So, I am preaching to the choir. To those, I say "thanks" for reading and continue with the good fight. And, you can always spread the word to others by sharing these posts. But, perhaps, a supporter of this President, who is not only THEIR President but OURS, will become tired of his incessant lying and come to their senses. We can do better - a lot better.

Well, we can always hope. We have to . . .

RESIST