ONE SMALL ACT

 

On another one of my frequent sojourns into the heart of the village of Nyack, I walked past an older woman sitting in front of one of the Main Street stores. I find her there frequently. Very petite, she showed the wear and tear of living what must be a hard life. She was painfully thin, had just a few teeth left and carried her meager possessions in a couple of ragged shopping bags. Perhaps she’s homeless. Yet, despite her hardships, I generally find her smiling and laughing with the others in her close circle of companions at the store.

On this day, she spotted me as I was walking by and blurted out, “hey, mister! I love your hat. Give it to me!” As is my custom, of course I was wearing a hat. It’s my thing. This one was just an old, beat up, straw pork pie style that I had for so long that I don’t even remember where I had gotten it from. Still, it was BECAUSE of all the miles on it that it was one of my favorites. So, I responded, “it’s my only one.” She quickly replied, “no it ain’t!” I had no idea how she knew that, but she was right; it’s not my only one. In fact, I’m known as a lid guy, i.e. I’m almost always in possession of some type of chapeau.  I have MANY. But it was ONE of my favorite hats, so I kept walking.

I must have gotten about a block away when I turned around to go back. My conscience was nagging me. She was right – it WASN’T my only hat. Besides, I could always find another. I HAD to turn around. So, when I saw her sitting in the same spot, I approached her and said, “this must be your birthday because this hat is now yours” as I placed it on her head. You should have seen the smile break out on her face! The hat was indeed perfect, fitting her way better than me. She simply couldn't stop smiling and giving me a hardy thumbs-up. It obviously made her day.

In subsequent journeys into the heart of the village I’ve encountered her several times, sometimes with the hat on, sometimes not. But every time that I do see her I inquire about it, and she always replies with a huge smile and a BIG thumbs-up saying, “I still have it and LOVE it!”

It was such a simple gesture. The hat had no real value except perhaps a sentimental one to me. Yet, to her, it meant everything. It made her joyful. What could be better than that? You see, my friends, it’s not necessary to save the WHOLE world. That’s a goal that no human being can accomplish or should even be tasked with. The very thought of it can overwhelm even the deepest thinker. Instead, it’s the little, daily acts of anonymous kindness that truly make the world go ‘round. No one has to see, hear, or even acknowledge these small deeds for them to be effective. Individually they might not seem like much, but collectively they are Mighty.

At the Nyack Street fairs, there is a group of volunteers that hold large soup pots out to collect donations for a local food kitchen. They are appropriately named The Soup Angels. Whenever I see them, I give them a dollar donation - just one $ and I say, “it’s not much, but think about it: there’s 15-20,000 people here today. If everyone gave just $1, by the end of the day, how many people could you feed?”

It’s simple. We may not be able to give much but virtually ALL of us can give a little. And it doesn't have to be just money. It can be time donated to a worthy cause, or a small act of kindness like bringing someone some real joy from an old, beat-up hat. We need it now, more than ever.

 

 

PRINCIPAL FINDS A PRICE

 

Hmmm. Let’s see. the Trump Administration sues the Paramount Corporation, the parent company of CBS, for $20 billion (yes, that’s BILLION) on a bogus charge claiming that the legendary CBS 60 Minutes program had deliberately used deceptive editing techniques to make then Presidential candidate Kamala Harris more appealing. I have already written in this publication about my position detailing why I believe that charge is completely illegitimate. Yet, despite protestations from the journalists at 60 Minutes and beyond, Paramount basically CAVED into Mr. Trump’s demands and settled with him for a mere $16 million. “This settlement allows Paramount to focus on its prospective sale, and CBS can maintain its principles,” said C. Kerry Fields, a business law professor at the USC Marshall School. “But principle has its price, and there certainly was one set here.” * More on the prospective sale in a minute.

Then, Paramount announces the cancellation of its long running and #1 rated late night talk show, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert citing financial considerations. Of course, none of the executives at Paramount would bother to mention that Colbert uses a very particular AND popular brand of humor to regularly poke fun at the President. Mr. Trump has made NO secret of his dislike of Mr. Colbert or his sense of humor. Colbert and a plethora of other late-night personalities and media celebrities came together and challenged the REAL reason why the show was canceled.

Well, after 8 months of intense pressure from the White House, the prospective sale mentioned above by Dr. Fields, i.e. the purchase of Paramount by Skydance Media in the amount of $8 billion finally went down. It seems that the sale was exacerbated by the fact Shari Redstone and her family, the majority owners of CBS, are deeply in debt.

So. why is the timing of all this significant? Well, it seems that since both entities are media companies the sale would require the approval of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC). And who basically controls the FCC? That’s right, one Donald J. Trump. And, without making HIM happy, it simply wasn’t going to happen.

It doesn’t take a 60 Minutes journalist to fathom how dangerous this is. And it’s just beginning; more purges have been promised. It’s so important to understand that whoever controls the media controls the message and, therefore, the people. Malcolm X once said: “The media’s the most powerful entity on earth. They have the power to make the innocent guilty and to make the guilty innocent, and that’s power. Because they control the minds of the masses.” The fact that this administration has severely cut back if not eliminated Federal funding to local PBS Stations is further evidence of Mr. Trump and his administration’s desire to control the message by eliminating ANYONE who might speak against him. THIS MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN.

I am usually reluctant to compare American politics with that of Nazi Germany. It often simply leads to more division and hate. However, if it is appropriate then it must be said. In my research for this article, I found this. It’s the Wikipedia entry for Joseph Goebbels: Goebbels, who aspired to be an author, obtained a doctorate in philology from the University of Heidelberg in 1922. He joined the Nazi Party in 1924 and worked with Gregor Strasser in its northern branch. He was appointed Gauleiter of Berlin in 1926, where he began to take an interest in the use of propaganda to promote the party and its program. After the Nazis came to power in 1933, Goebbels's Propaganda Ministry quickly gained control over the news media, arts and information in Nazi Germany. He was particularly adept at using the relatively new media of radio and film for propaganda purposes. Topics for party propaganda included antisemitism, attacks on Christian churches, and (after the start of the Second World War) attempts to shape morale.

This is NOT hyperbole!  And I hate being a harbinger of doom, but if we do not act and stop this now, it will become our reality.

 

 

 

*https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/business/story/2025-07-04/paramount-trump-60-minutes-settlement-how-deal-got-done

A CONEY ISLAND MEMORY

 

 HOT POTATO KNISHES, ICE COLD COKES HERE!

 

Words and photos F LoBuono

Every summer, when we were kids, my mother would pack up my older sister, my little brother, and me for our annual 2 week vacation at Coney Island. Since we lived in Jersey, the great majority of my friends went down the shaw, while we headed for Brooklyn. You see, my mother, Stella, grew up just a mile or so from the Boardwalk there and her family (and, our cousins) still lived in the same place. And, despite our protestations, there was no escape with Stella's reasoning for going always logical and never changing: I'm not sure what you guys are complaining about - same ocean!

So, usually in mid-August, while my father stayed in Fort Lee to work and he couldn't drive us there (he ALWAYS picked us up), Stella loaded us on the subway for the nearly 2 hour journey, and off to The Promised Land we went.

Truthfully, it really wasn't bad after all. In fact, we had a blast. My cousins where there and so was the beach. My grandmother's place was an old classic Brooklyn townhouse located on Ave.W, right between Ocean Parkway and Coney Island Avenue. And, of course, in Italian tradition, my cousins' family lived only about a block away. Every morning for the 2 weeks we where there, we packed a cooler of wonderful, fresh food, soft drinks, grabbed a beach blanket, an umbrella, and some beach chairs to make our pilgrimage down Ocean Parkway to the beach entrance at Bay 7th St.

One of my strongest memories was hitting the cool sand under the boardwalk that awaited us at the end of our long and hot journey down Ocean Parkway. I remember taking off our sneakers right away so that we could feel the moist, fresh sand between our toes. We ran squealing from the relative darkness and cool air provided by the shade of the boardwalk and into the blazing sun and scorching sand that we now felt under our feet. We ran as fast as we could to the water to dunk our toes in the chilly, refreshing ocean!

After a quick dunk, we staked our claim to some prime beach real estate. This was essential in the summer as the beach quickly filled up with thousands of other families. Let's face it, no one would ever mistake Coney Island for some deserted atoll! Eventually, we all settled into our beach routines - body surfing, swimming, beach combing, and the occasional trip to the boardwalk.

 

At some point, we settled in to eat lunch, usually lovingly prepared by my grandmother. After lunch, if we were particularly well-behaved, a special treat for dessert was waiting for us: an authentic Coney Island Potato Knish! Now, these were no ordinary potato knishes! They were purchased from a figure that, to me, was every much a part of Coney Island as Nathan's Famous. I never knew his name but he was there EVERY DAY, walking the entire length of the beach, over and over again, bare-chested, a shock of grey hair blowing in the sea breeze while he called out in a melodic voice: Hey, get your hot potato knishes - ice cold Cokes - HERE! And, it was always with the same cadence, pausing slightly before he finished we a flourish - HERE!

When we heard his booming voice as he made his way up the beach, we ran to whomever was chaperoning us that day to beg for money - a knish was $.50 and a Coke $.25. My mom or one of my aunts would give us enough money so that all of us could have a knish and a coke. We surrounded him like a pack of wolves might their prey. While we jumped for joy around him, he placed his 2 heavy sacks on the sand to deliver his bounty: one bag for the knishes which were served in a cellophane wrapper and one filled with dry ice to keep those Cokes ice cold. Of course, he always had extra deli mustard to slather those knishes in!
 

After eating our fill and exhausting ourselves in AND out of the water, we packed up our belongs for the long walk back to Ave. W. And, as Stella always says, "tomorrow is another day". Little did we know how those tomorrows would change. And, they did - adulthood, responsibility and the like replaced the care free days of Hot Potato Knishes and Ice Cold Cokes. But, the memories can never truly be forgotten.