MY LIFE IN NYACK: Winter 3

MY LIFE IN NYACK; Winter 2

MY LIFE IN NYACK: Winter 1

Today's MOZEN 1/10/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

OF BRIDGES AND BULLIES

First, the humor is not lost on me that my beloved home town, Fort Lee, NJ, is once again in the National spotlight. We have not had this much attention since Gilda Radner's famous SNL character, Roseanne Rosanna-Danna's, "a Mr. Richard Feder of Fort Lee, New Jersey. . . ", routine! But this time, it's not really funny at all.

I don't think it's necessary to get into intricate detail of why Fort Lee is in the news. But, for clarity, a brief synopsis is in order: It seems certain staff members of New Jersey Governor Chris Chrisite manipulated closure, without warning, of the George Washington Bridge's (GWB) Fort Lee toll access, as well as a number of lanes of the GWB itself. Despite efforts by Fort Lee officials, including it's mayor, Mark Sokolich, to find out why this was happening, no explanation was given. E-mails and other documents discovered after the incident, suggest that the closure was politically motivated as punishment for Mr. Sokolich's, a Democrat, failure to endorse Mr. Chrisite in his campaign for Governor.

Now, Fawt Lee (as we natives will more than relate to as the REAL pronunciation for the town) is dominated by that Bridge. The high school nome de guerre is The Bridgemen (try making a mascot out of that!). The GWB is the centerpiece of the town's Great Seal. It brags at being the busiest bridge in the world. This, for natives is a source of pride. But, with that can also come very difficult conditions. So, when the GWB is screwed up, the town is screwed up. Traffic can back up for miles when there is an issue on the GWB. Therefore, people looking for alternatives, and those from the town itself looking for access to the GWB, are caught in a mind- f'n', never ending, evil serpent of bright red tail lights. I have been personally trapped in that traffic vortex on more occasions than I care to remember. Still do. In a word; AWFUL.

And it's not just an inconvenience. There are real ramifications and lost revenue. People can't get to work. Kids can't get to school. Businesses can't conduct business. And, worst of all, emergency vehicles cannot pass through. So, it's a BIG deal.

Of course, in recent days/hours, Governor Chrisite has gone into damage control mode and expressed disbelief, shock, surprise, and righteous indignation at those responsible. Heads were going to roll. And they did. As of this writing, four of his top aides most responsible for this situation have been fired. More floggings may come. But this leaves many people wondering, is he firing ALL of those responsible? How much of this did he actually know was going on and why did he take so long to act upon it? And, if the buck stops with him, shouldn't he be, in a sense, firing himself?

We may never get these questions answered with complete accuracy. Without actually being there, or without the necessary documentation, it may be difficult to pin the Governor with direct culpability here. But I'm not sure that we have to - at least not directly. It is reasonable, however, in such situations to "connect the dots". Let's try. One of the keys to Governor Christie's success, pundits claim, may also be his biggest detraction. He has a "hands-on" style of management. He has a dominating presence. As he is lampooned by many comedic sources, like SNL, he is almost a Sopranoesque character, i.e. prototypical New Jersey, or New Joisey. Fuggetaboutit! Some find it amusing if not downright endearing. However, most New Jersians that I speak to do not. Interestingly, and this is what makes people believe he may be right for National office, the people NOT from New Jersey actually love him. One way or the other, it may not be inaccurate to also use this word to describe him - BULLY.

You don't have to look hard to find footage of him dressing down a reporter, or, worse, a teacher or citizen who had the audacity to question his judgement or authority. I have a very reliable source from New Jersey who tells me how he threatened a 76 year-old woman candidate who opposed him on some issues, telling reporters that, "someone should take a baseball bat to her". Really? Yes, it is entirely reasonable to call him a bully. Now, there are some who would say that it is this "honest, take no prisoners" style that makes him effective, i.e. the type of leadership we need to straighten out the country. Unfortunately, I, and others, do not agree. It's been said that, from time to time, I have issues with authority. Well, that's not quite accurate. I have issues with BULLIES who see themselves as authority figures. I have no problem following the directions of someone that I can respect. This is no different.

So, if we continue to connect our dots, it is not difficult to connect the last one to the Governor. Whether he authorized this travesty or not, by his position, by his very attitude, the BUCK MUST STOP WITH HIM. In other words, don't be surprised when you get what you paid for. If it smells like a bully, then it must be a bully. A coach's team reflects the personality of its coach.

Now, in the final analysis, this may not be, as some are saying, Christie's Bridgemaggedon (I just made that up - at least I haven't hear it yet!). He may still come out smelling like a rose - poor, little Governor, deceived by his moronic staff! But look at him now, coming forward, all contrite and shit (Jersey speak). There is one thing certain; the man is no fool - look at how he played Sandy.

In the final analysis, I think that it is important not to get hung up on specifics in this case. In other words, although important, it's not essential to know if the Governor was directly involved or not. Because he was. By his very ethos, one motivated by intimidation, he has fostered a climate of fear in opponents AND subordinates alike. But this is a good thing because it gives us a clear-cut choice should Mr.Christie actually decide to run for national office. Do you want Tony Soprano running the Country or not?

Today's MOZEN 1/7/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

My best friend is dying. There is just no way around it this time. We just can't recharge his battery anymore. His long and eventful race has been run. Big Red the Cat is nearing his end. He has taken his place with grace but, now, it will soon be time for him to move on. He is old. Yes, older than dirt. We know him to be at least 19. In human terms, that's like 147! He was robust, free, energetic, and powerful. Now, he is weak and frail, barely able to walk and eat. But he is a fighter -always has been. I've seen this before. He was accidentally run over when he was 16, breaking his leg badly. He recovered completely. In recent months, as his health has declined, there have been episodes that led me to believe it was surely the end. Still, he came back. Every time. If a normal cat has 9 lives, then Red is certainly the exception. He must be on number 15 or so. So, I hope for one more miracle, one more rally, one more day, one more hour, one more minute. . .

But it can't go on forever. Nothing can. We must accept the fragility of life and understand that all things are ephemeral. So, where does this loss leave us? In an effort to understand, I think that we must go back - back to where Big Red first came into my life.

It was 1995 and I was living as a bachelor in my first apartment in South Nyack. I had a little, silver tabby named Belle (after the infamous Wild West madam, Belle Star - not the Little Mermaid!). She was good company and I was quite content with her. My cats have always had the freedom of being both inside and out. I believe that, depending on the environment in which you live, that's how it should be; better for them AND better for me. In order to facilitate this, I put a cat-flap window in my bedroom so she could jump in an out when she felt the urge. Well, one day, I returned from work to find a large, male red tabby cat sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor. My immediate reaction was, WTF?! Who the hell are you and why are you in my home? I certainly did not want some strange, large, male cat harassing my delicate female, Belle Star. So, wishing to avoid a direct confrontation with a strange, large, stray red Tom Cat, I used a broom to chase him right back out the window he came in from! Well, ten minutes later, guess who's back in the window? I get the broom and we're at it again. However, this time, instead of flying out the window, he's running from room to room, dodging me at every turn. This goes on for about a week. Finally, I say, once again, WTF?, I guess that I got myself two cats now!

Mimicking his flaming red hair and fierce fighting spirit, I originally named him Erik the Red, after the legendary Viking raider. However, over the course of time, it was just too much of a mouthful to say. Besides, as he grew into full tomcathood, he tipped the scales at a muscular 14 lbs. Thus, the name, and the legend of, Big Red began. Belle Star has long since passed and I've had him every since.

How important is this stupid, red cat to me? Well, let me give you some perspective. I have lived with him longer than with any other being. For 19 years he has been a constant companion. With no disrespect, my relationship with him has lasted far longer than any girlfriend's - even my marriage. He has moved seamlessly with me on 4 occasions. During that period, he has born witness to every single up and down in my life. And he has done it with out flinching and without compliant. That animal has never caused me one moment of angst in nearly 20 years. How many of us can say that about our human relationships? In return for feeding him, caring for him, and, yes, cleaning his pee and poop, he has taught me so much. He has taught me about patience, perseverance, and confidence. You may ask, confidence? Well, yes. Red never changed. He was always Red. I always believed that he was that way because he felt he was just fine the way he was. He was certainly not on this earth to show off for anyone. That would come naturally. He lived fully and robustly, becoming the scourge of chimpmunks every where!

Now, he is about 6 lbs. He is in no pain or discomfort. He is just so feeble. But, still, he fights. He is not done yet. We'll both know when he is -and it ain't today (I hope). He can hardly walk, but he walks. He can hardly eat, but he eats. He can hardly poop, but he poops. If, and when, that changes, we will cross that bridge, as we always have, TOGETHER.

I do everything within my power to make him comfortable AND to let him know how much he means to me. I am prepared. I have cried deeply a number of times already and am prepared to do so as much as is necessary. However, I am also ready to let go. The thought of my apartment without his constant presence wears on me greatly. But at times like this, I always think of the title of a Broadway play that ran a few years back: You Arms Too Short to Box With God. Accept things that you are not fully ready to understand. Red has taught me this!! So, I pray that his passage will be peaceful and dignified, just like his life. I will also use this opportunity to, instead of grieving, celebrate his life by not waiting until it's too late to say, thanks, I love you - not only to him but all of those in my life. THIS is the Red way.

In the meantime, we will take every day, every hour, every second, every moment. This is a sacred time . . .