Today's MOZEN: Pure Joy

With Rex

The joys of owning a dog are too numerous to mention. And, there's good scientific reason for that; the dog's evolutionary survival mechanisms are no longer their hunting or herding skills (although some breeds do exhibit those behaviors when trained by humans to do so) but, rather their ability to please human beings - literally. Even their very expressions are evolutionarily designed to bring out empathy from people - and, eventually food, shelter, and companionship.

Now, these scientific facts should in no way affect the sacred bond between human and dog. In fact, it was meant to be this way - literally.

Luca

Of all their many endearing qualities the one that I perhaps find the most appealing is their shear joy at even the simplest of moments. It's as if they experience every encounter as if it was the first time - it's always fresh, always new, AND always fun!

Every single time that you even ask them if they would like to go for a ride in your car, it's as if you offered them freedom itself. Then, the car ride is even better with them sticking their heads out of the window and beaming a smile at every passing image.

And, how excited are they to see you, even after a short departure? It may have been for just a brief period and yet they still act as if they had never seen you leave and come back before - every time.

Offering them a simple, dry dog biscuit brings the same reaction as if you offered them fillet mignon - every time.

Mention going for a walk, showing them their leash, or teasing them with a ball, always invokes the same reaction. Even simply connecting to the earth by rolling on the ground brings pure joy.

And, it's never manufactured. It comes from their very hearts and souls.

I think that we can learn a lot from dogs. At least I know that I have. They have taught me to never lose the wonderment of what it means to be alive, no matter how simple it may be - to enjoy each moment as if it were the only one - because it is. Remember, they are only with us for a short while. They GET it, and they are are here to show us.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: The Yale Truck

Photo by Scott MacNeil, 1975

We all have memories of our childhoods. If you are like me, hopefully, the great majority of them will make you smile when you think of them.

Here's one of mine that does exactly that - every time.

Recently, on Facebook, a friend posted an archival photo of a full-sized tractor trailer with the name Yale emblazoned across it gracing the rooftop of a building just off New York's Westside Highway in the vicinity of the Lincoln Tunnel. It was obviously used by that company as some sort of real-life advertising for its shipping services (NOT the University). It was there for many years.

Well, since we used that highway on our very regular trips from our home in Fort Lee, NJ to our grandmother's house on Coney Island in Brooklyn, my family and I must have passed that truck a thousand times on the way there and back. It stood sentinel in every season and in all kinds of weather. You simply couldn't miss it.

My brother, sister, and I were always well aware of it and when we got close to that neighborhood we all rushed to one side of the car, pressing our faces against the window to get a glimpse of it - every time. Upon getting our first view of it, we would always ask our father who was driving: "hey, dad, what's in the truck this time?" And, he never failed to have an answer - the right answer. If it was near Thanksgiving, he would blurt out, "turkeys". If it was Christmas time he would respond, "coal for bad kids like you." In the summer it could be "bathing suits" or simply "sand."

No matter what the season, he always seemed to respond with the perfect answer. And, we always squealed with delightful laughter.

Always.

Well, the Yale truck is long gone (where to, I have no idea) as is my father. However, they are inexorably linked in my heart and soul by the joy and wonder they brought out of just being a kid. People and things don't last forever. But, the love they bring to us never diminishes. May your memories be just as sweet . . .  

Today's MOZEN: Strange Fruit

Billie Holiday 

Moral justice has no time or color lines. It is a series of principles that guide (or, SHOULD) all human beings as we attempt to live fulfilling, righteous lives. It needs to be practiced by EVERYONE. It as a shared responsibility.

The song Strange Fruit is a classic example of how this can occur. 

In the 1950's, the tune was made a classic by Billie Holiday. The title and corresponding lyrics are a metaphor for the wanton and horrific lynching of African-American men, particularly in the South. The imagery conjured by the song, as interpreted and sung by Holiday, is one of pain and suffering which is unmistakable in the sound of her voice. It is both powerful and agonized as if the lyrics had seared her very soul. Listening to her interpretation is haunting - considering the topic, rightly so.

And, she paid the price for making it so real, so poignant. The US government relentless pursued her in an effort to make her stop singing it, eventually culminating in her absurd arrest and imprisonment.

However, what is little known is that Holiday didn't write the song. Neither did any other African-American. It was actually written by a Jewish teacher from the Bronx, Abel Meeropol.

Mr. Meeropol was also a member of the American Communist Party and wrote it in 1937 for a union publication**. Afterwards, he set it to music and drew the interest of Ms. Holiday. She picked it up some time later and made it her anthem of sorts. In an interesting side note, also indicative of Mr. Meeropol's arch of justice and social consciousness, was the fact that he and his wife adopted the children of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, the husband and wife who were the only Americans ever executed for espionage.

I believe the point is that ending racism is a collaborative effort. Although every individual is responsible to see to its eradication, no one single person has the power to end it. However, collectively we are force that cannot be denied. When we refuse as a society to accept racism and bigotry on ALL levels it will end. Until then, it is up to everyone to see that Strange Fruit never flourishes again.

*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DGY9HvChXk

**“Strange Fruit” This anti-lynching poem was written by Abel Meeropol, a teacher, songwriter, and member of the American Communist Party. He published it in a union publication in 1937 and then set it to music. It was most famously performed by Billy Holiday, who first sang “Strange Fruit” in 1939. After the conviction and execution of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg for espionage in 1953, during the early Cold War, Abel Meeropol and his wife Anne adopted and raised the Rosenberg’s two sons, Michael and Robert. 

"Southern trees bear a strange fruit Blood on the leaves and blood at the root Black bodies swingin' in the Southern breeze Strange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees Pastoral scene of the gallant South The bulgin' eyes and the twisted mouth Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh Then the sudden smell of burnin' flesh Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck For the sun to rot, for the tree to drop Here is a strange and bitter crop."

Today's MOZEN: EARTH DAY 2021

All words and photos by F LoBuono/Sojouner Photography

Today is EARTH DAY, when we are encouraged to spend even just a few moments honoring our mother, i.e. The Mother of All Mothers - Earth.

Unfortunately, there are millions of our fellow earthlings who find the day a complete waste of time - if they think about it at all. They are so rapped up in the own small worlds that they don't make the connection that, in fact, there is only one. And, it belongs to ALL of us.

So, why Earth Day?

Well, I'll answer that question with another: why not?

Because if we don't, and sooner rather than later, these will be just some of the more dire consequences - 

1. No clean water to drink.

2. No clean air to breath.

3. No land to farm.

4. No safe food to eat.

5. No dry places to live.

And, there will be more. But, let's face it, without what I have just listed, does it really matter?

So, today of all days, just take a moment to consider just how precious, and ultimately fragile, our planet truly is. It's the only one we have. And, if we don't cherish her, we will suffer the consequences.

Let's not let that happen.

Do whatever you can to make the world a better place for ALL who inhabit it. It doesn't have to be a great gesture. Even a small one like picking up some trash left behind by someone other than yourself and placing it where it can be recycled helps. If EVERYONE did just one, little thing the effect would be massive.

Do it for yourself. Do it for everyone.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: A Confrontation

Many years ago, in my post-college era, I fashioned myself as rather bohemian. I had left graduate school to pursue a path less traveled. In other words, I was a rebel without a clue.

In keeping with the beat tradition, I rejected my rather advanced education and instead of embarking on a professional career, I embraced the counter culture. Therefore, de rigueur required that I work some kind of funky, alternative job.

So, I was making a living as far away as possible from what I was educated to do - by driving a cab.

In many ways, it was perfect for my mindset at the time: I didn't have to bring the job home with me - it was over at the end of my shift. I made decent money. I got to meet loads of interesting characters. And, since the job often took me in and out of NYC, I got to witness things that one can encounter only in a place with a pace as frenetic as New York.

Well, one day, I had just dropped off a fare at The Waldorf Astoria on Park Ave. and 39th St. It was the middle of the afternoon and traffic was quite heavy. I was stuck at the signal there waiting to make a turn when I noticed a commotion on the median that separates the north and southbound lanes of Park Ave. There was an NYPD squad car parked on the cross street and 2 cops where struggling to place a young black man in the back. I'd say he must have been about 18. Each cop (white, by the way) had one of his arms as they attempted to drag him to the car and get him inside. The young man was resisting while screaming: I DIDN'T DO NUTHIN'! I DIDN'T DO NUTHIN'! The police remained silent. They just kept restraining him and dragging him towards the squad car.

The more he struggled the rougher they pulled back on his arms, all the while dragging him towards their car. Pushing back against them with both arms and feet, he was still no match for the two cops. Eventually, the 3 reached the open rear door of the car. At that point, the young man made on last valiant effort to resist by bracing one leg against the car to give him some leverage against the policemen's efforts.

I distinctly remember how brutal the scene had become, so much so that I actually screamed out of the window of my cab - DUDE, JUST GO. JUST GET IN THE CAR!!!

And, then it got even worse.

At that point, one of the cops took out his nightstick with one free hand and preceded to forcefully ram the tip of it repeatedly under the ribs of the struggling suspect. Then, the other cop grabbed him by the back of his hair and slammed his forehead into the top of the police vehicle. The suspect went virtually limp after which the police threw him onto the back seat, closed the door, and drove away.

I was shocked by the brutality of it and actually recoiled in horror! I understand that the cops have a job to do and it isn't an easy one. And, I have no idea what initially led to the confrontation. But, I witnessed no violence preceding it. And, the young man was adamant about his innocence and didn't seem to be an imminent threat to either the policemen or the public. In addition, I saw no effort on the part of the police to de-escalate the situation. He was going with them. Period. 

That was nearly 40 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. And, it changed me.

To this day, I have no idea what may have caused that confrontation or what eventually happened to that young black man. And, in fairness to the police, without more context, it is difficult to know exactly what information they may have had to cause them to act in such a brutal manner. But, in light of the George Floyd case and others, I'm sure that it was not unique to him or other African-Americans. Besides, I have NEVER witnessed such cruelty inflicted on a white person. That kind of brutality is not easily forgotten - or, forgiven. I know that I have not forgotten - and, only Providence knows if it was forgiven.

Until we are ALL equal, no one truly is . . .

Today's MOZEN: A Fullness of Spirit

Nothing will break my spirit. Nothing can. Because it's all that I have. . . 

While this statement may sound overly bold or even braggadocios, at its core it really isn't either of those things.

It's reality. At least it is my reality.

I am not a man of great means or skill. I fear that I will leave no great monuments behind. There will be no libraries or public buildings named in my honor. I have no considerable wealth so I will leave no large endowment or scholarships. And, although I consider myself to be an artist, I don't believe that my art will leave any great, lasting impression on anyone. There seems to be no "Moby Dick" or "On the Road" lurking in my subconscious.

However, this is not some exercise in self-pity. I ain't dead yet and I'm sure not gonna' stop trying to accomplish as much as I can in the years I have ahead (many, I hope). It could happen. It's just not likely. And, furthermore, it's not that important if it does.

What IS important is that I live with a Fullness of Spirit - a willingness to give all of myself to those ideals in which I believe most: honesty, justice, compassion, equity, generosity, creativity, inclusion, and, above all, love.

These ideals are cultivated every minute of each day with every encounter we have in life. How we treat each other will be the lasting gift we give to one another AND the world. Once again, this is the true spirit of Karma: what we contribute to the Wheel of Life is what keeps the world spinning on its spiritual axis. I want my contribution to give it a few extra spins - even if that means a simple, kind gesture to a total stranger.

Sure, it would be nice to have a pyramid constructed in my name that lasts thousands of years, or, maybe a library that becomes a place for learning and scholarship for generations. But, that is not my goal. Mine is much more simple - to live with a generosity of heart and soul that will last far longer than any moment of stone and mortar.

It's all that I have. And, it's all that I need.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE STORY: Hanging on by a Toe

 

Many years ago, a lifetime, really, when I was still married, I had, like most couples in the beginning of their relationships, all the unbridled passion that comes with the promise of a new and, perhaps, everlasting love.  You simply can't get enough of one another. And, I mean that not only esoterically but literally, too. In other words, if we got any closer, she'd have been behind me.

However, over the course of time, that zest to be constantly pressed together, particularly when sleeping, let's say - matures. We discover that sometimes it just too hot to be too close. Or, you're too restless. Perhaps, she forgot to brush her teeth (or, you did yours!) and you just can't take being that close to her breath (or she your breath). Maybe, you have to fart (hey, it's human). Sometimes, you just need some of your own space. This was particularly true in our relationship as we were not kids when we married; I was in my 40's and she had been married previously and had 3 sons.

Sure, you still spoon. Affection does not wain. And, you might even have that rush of youthful lust and desire - at least on occasion! In a busy world that too often keeps us apart, it's essential that we do share moments of literal closeness. Hugging is cool.

So, I believe that I had come up with a type of compromise between the need for physical bonding with the desire for our own space: I would stay in my own area of the bed but still at least rap my foot around hers while we slept. And, I would keep it there for the entire night. Sure, we often spooned but I ALWAYS had at least that little contact with our feet. No matter how difficult the day may have went between us, including some ugly spats, when we went to bed that night, I rapped my foot around one of hers. It, for me anyway, provided that connection, not matter how tenuous, that bonded us. Sometimes, at the end of a particularly combative encounter, I was barely holding on - usually by just a toe - but something.

As long as I had that connection - SOME connection - even by the proverbial thread, i.e. toe - I knew that a bond still existed between us.

There came a time when we really began to struggle in our relationship. I guess I could come up with plenty of reasons why but, in the end, I suppose it came down to us stop being the priorities in each others' lives. Every other reason becomes irrelevant. Still, we were still sleeping together - distant emotionally, but together. 

And, I was still hanging on - desperately - by that toe.

Then, one night, she pulled her foot away. No matter how I tried to hook her foot, she was not having it. The message was clear. Not even a toe to hang on to. Gone. Nothing. It was over. And, it was.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: Life is Finite. Compassion is Not

 

On my way home from a wonderful Easter dinner with my family last evening, something caught my eye on the other side of the road. In the relative darkness I noticed a large, brown lump that was twitching. When I looked closer I saw that, unfortunately, someone had hit a young deer. I immediately pulled a U-turn to get in front of the deer to protect the animal from being hit again and also to get a better look at the damage with my headlights.

Apparently, the animal must have just been struck and from what I could observe was in very bad shape. This was not a super highway or major road so I could not believe that someone would have actually struck this poor animal and simply drive off. But, that's a post for another day.

It looked like he may have been a young buck as I saw the nubs on new antlers growing on his head. However, he was indeed in bad shape. His front legs were badly damaged - I feared beyond recovery. Still, I have witnessed some deer that were hit very hard by vehicles and after a recovery period still managed to get up and walk away. But, the damage here appeared to be considerable. Still, I felt it necessary to at least give him some chance for survival. So, I got a pair of gloves from my car and did my best to move him further off the road in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he could recover.

Unfortunately, after several painful, futile attempts to stand and escape, I realized that this poor guy was simply not going to make it. His fate was sealed So, I called 911 for the police to come, hopefully to humanely end his suffering.

I stayed by the animal trying to reassure him that he would not suffer much longer and that people cared. He would not die alone. I was surprised when an Orangetown squad car pulled up just minutes after I made the 911 call. I rolled down my window and told the policewoman that I had not struck the deer but did make the the call. She assured me that she would humanely take care of the situation.

With a heavy heart, I left finally left the scene. I did, at that point, not need to see the final outcome. Of course, it weighed heavily on me for the rest of my trip home. But, I had to let it go. I had done everything in my power to do the right thing. And, I believe that I did. We have to do all we can to not only show compassion but BE compassion. We cannot control everything. Sometimes, we have to let it go and trust in fate.

Perhaps, this was an Easter Message - life maybe finite but love and compassion never are.

LESSONS MY FATHER TAUGHT ME: Part II The Power of Humanity

Perhaps, like me, you have been riveted by the emotional testimony of the witnesses in the trial of former Minneapolis police officer, Derrick Chauvin, in the alleged murder of George Floyd. In addition to the gut wrenching reaction of the eyewitnesses to the detention and subsequent death of Mr. Floyd at the hands of Mr. Chauvin, I am fascinated by the workings of our justice system and the players within.

Videos of the incident, as captured by multiple sources including police body cameras, have been admitted as evidence and shown repeatedly. They show the brutal takedown of Mr. Floyd by Chauvin and other police officers. The most shocking - and damning - segment lasts for over 9 minutes and shows Chauvin with his knee jammed into the neck of a prostrated, handcuffed Floyd while Floyd eventually pleads for his life. In addition, witnesses can be heard in the background screaming for Chauvin to release him before it's too late.

9 minutes and :29 seconds.

Then it was too late . . . 

I suppose that, beyond the tactics of the defenses' strategy that former Officer Chauvin was just doing what he was trained to do, is how obvious it is, at least to me, that he and the other police officers completely lacked any sense of human compassion. To them, Mr. Floyd was just another drugged out, big, dumb nigger that had to be taken down!

Before anyone gets the idea that his is another police bashing screed, I want to give some background: my father was a law enforcement officer who loved what he did. He came to the profession later in life but I believe that he identified with it more than any other. He loved it. And, with total honesty, I say that one of the things that he loved most about it was the sense of power that came with the authority he was given. I most also admit, at times, it made him ugly. NO ONE questioned his authority! I mean he could be a real prick that way. I hated it and so did my mother. But, unfortunately, my father did not corner the market on that behavior among the police. It was VERY much in evidence with George Floyd - he had the audacity to resist.

However, in his soul, my father was also an honest, fair, and gentle man. He was willing to fight and die for his principals, the most important of which was to treat EVERYONE with the respect they deserve - regardless of creed or color.

This became evident to me when he took me to work with him one Thanksgiving many, many years ago. I must have been about 13 or 14 and my father's duties with the Bergen County Sheriff's Department brought him to the county's correctional facility where he functioned as a Correction's Officer (CO). I remember sitting with him and the other CO's at the Thanksgiving table, surrounded by hundreds of inmates. At one point, one of the inmates who was helping at the table, came over to me and said: "hey, your old-man is OK. He treats us all like human beings."

I'll never forget it. He didn't have to say anything. He didn't know me but, yet, somehow felt compelled to tell me that.

What I took from it is to NEVER lose your humanity, especially when you have authority over others. What makes us MOST human is COMPASSION. 

Derrick Chauvin and the others ARE guilty, not only because they failed in their duty to protect and serve, but most egregiously, because they lost their humanity. . .