Today's MOZEN: The Right Stuff 9/26/2014

Photo courtesy MLB. Words F LoBuono

Generally, when it comes to so-called hero worship, I'm not given to hyperbole. In fact, I can be quite acerbic when it comes to elevating any individual to such lofty status. That label, hero, is far too often misplaced. For example, I was very critical of the response to basketball superstar LeBron James' reception upon his return to the Cleveland Cavaliers. I was actually even critical of the ENTIRE city of Cleveland for it! So, I may be described as having the prototypical New York indifference to such matters of little importance. We simply don't have the time.

Now, with that said, I have to add my voice to the tens of millions of others who are singing the praises of Derek Jeter. It is not everyday that any individual can bring a City, a Nation, and people from around the world to their feet, much less a New York sports figure. But that's just what he did. For a brief, shinning moment, Derek Jeter embodied everything we hope that sports would be - wholesome, dramatic, and deeply emotional. A skinny kid from Kalamazoo, Michigan would, for twenty years, rule the greatest City on the planet. And on his final day in the Bronx, retiring after so many years, in his final at bat, in the bottom of the ninth of a tie game and with a man in scoring position in his final game at Yankee Stadium, he comes through with a yet another hit. YANKEES WIN! THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YANKEES WIN!!!! Yes, it's much better than a Hollywood script.

Some will still ask, why - he's just a baseball player? But, that would miss the point of sport and the role it plays not only in our culture, but in those around the world, as well. Like it not, sports are inseparable from everyday life - and that includes kids from the inner- city playing on a broken basketball hoop to those in rural Brazil kicking around a cloth soccer ball. Sport cannot be avoided. So, we tend to elevate our athletes to a lofty status and expect Herculean efforts from them on, and off, the field. It is often too much to ask and many fail miserably under the pressure. When you add trying to live up to this ideal in the most competitive market in the world for it's marquee franchise (as is Jeter's case), the pressure might be unbearable.

But, this is exactly what Derek Jeter did. He achieved remarkable success in his endeavors -all of them - on, and off, the field. He embodied the ideal of what we would want in not only a ballplayer, but a son, as well. And, he did it for a franchise and a City that DEMANDS excellence. Jeter did not disappoint. His statistics are excellent, if not the best of all time. Certainly, two stand out. One is individual, and a testament to the man. The other is team oriented and gets to the real root of the issue. Jeter ranks 6th on the all-time list for most hits in the game of baseball. Think about it. I asked a sports producer how many men would he estimate have played the game of major league baseball? His response was about 50,000. So, Jeter was more "successful' than 49,993 of them. Phenomenal. But, perhaps, the second is more important because it gets to the heart of Jeter's and the NY Yankees' success. With Jeter as Captain of the team, the Yankees won five World Championships in his twenty years with the club. Five. Winning was as much Jeter as it is the Yankees as it is New York.

Look, it's no mistake the NY Yankees wear pinstriped uniforms. They were designed to mimic the look of a typical NY businessman going to work. THAT is what New York is about and what the New York Yankees are about - the business of successful baseball.  They are inseparable. As is Derek Jeter. He went about his "business" with class and professional and never gave anything less than his absolute best. We all strive for that. Derek Jeter was lucky enough to apply it on the greatest stage in sport. And he did not fail. We New Yawka's like that.
Unfortunately, the Yankees, for the second year in a row, failed to make the playoffs. I think that Jeter would be the first to tell you how much that sucks. Fall is just SUPPOSED to have Jeter and the Yankees as part of it. It just doesn't feel right. But, somehow, we'll just have to find a way to live without both! In the meantime, rage on you crazy diamond. Rage on for a few more days. You've earned that. Yes, thank you god for making Derek Jeter a New York Yankee.

Today's MOZEN: Keep The Faith 9/24/2014

I was in a bit of a funk today. I'm always a bit melancholy when Summer ends and Autumn begins. Yes, Fall is a spectacular season in the Hudson Valley. The whole region is alive with breathtaking color. It features warm, dry days with plentiful sunshine, and nights that are crisp and clear (GREAT sleeping weather). Wonderful. What's not to like? But I'm always sorry to see the Summer, my favorite season, go, too. I'm fortunate to have the Sicilian genes that make Summer so manageable for me. I tease my friends that I get dark merely from looking at a photo of the sun! For me, it is also my most productive season. I love the outdoor activities most frequently associated with Summer. So, I'm ambivalent about the change: I love the fall but hate losing summer to have to get it. It was getting me down.

So, I decided to take a walk in my old neighborhood. It was a beautiful morning and I had to drop something off with a friend in the area anyway. A brisk walk can usually be quite effective in aiding me to change my mindset. However, on this day, it was not working. In fact, it had an adverse effect. Being in my old neighborhood was actually making me feel lonely. Like the summer, I found myself missing what was gone. It was pretty depressing. After stopping at my friend's, I was making my way back to my apartment when I noticed the glass door from one of the houses that I was passing was ajar and had a sign on it. I felt it unusual for the door to be open like that. I thought, perhaps, the sign would explain it. I came closer to read it. Here is what I found:

No matter what happens in life, be good to people. Being good to people is a wonderful legacy to leave behind.

This is what I mean when I tell people to keep the faith. It has nothing to do with religion. It has everything to do with the belief that if you keep an open mind and an open heart, peace will come to you, sometimes in the smallest but most effective ways. Messages of faith, hope, and love are all around and come to us, often in the strangest ways and in the oddest places.

Todays MOZEN: R E S P E C T 9/16/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

I have been blessed with the good fortune to have powerful women figures in my life. In fact, virtually every woman that I have ever had a relationship with has been one of strength and character. I suppose that it is a matter of simple logic. If I could not respect her, why would I be involved with her for more than a minute in the first place? And this goes across the board for me - familial and romantic. My mother, my sister, my girlfriends, my wife, all of them, are, or have been, powerful figures to me. My aunt had her Masters in education long before it was fashionable for Italian-American women to have a college degree. My sister is a successful businesswoman. All of my cousins are mothers, educated, and successful. And, Stella, the matriarch is, well, almost legendary for her strength and wisdom.

Every relationship is built on respect - mutual respect. I think that I learned this lesson most deeply from my parents. They did not have a perfect relationship. They both had strong personalities and that was bound to cause conflict. If EVERYONE is saying, "hey, be reasonable, do it MY way", tensions are going to exist. And they did. Still, with that said, there was love and, when they clicked, they made a wonderful team. In the most important ways, there was perfect harmony between them. I believe that the root of  that harmony was a tremendous amount of mutual respect they had not only for each others strengths, but for each others weakness, as well. They allowed each other to express what they did best and aided the other when they were not as capable. It was beautiful.

Despite there outward conflicts, they had a deep, abiding faith in the what is right and what is wrong. It was clear, concise, and, in a sense, non-judgmental. And it was shared - unequivocally. By this they meant certain truths are fundamental and inalienable.  One of those truths concerned violence towards women. Both so strongly believed that violence towards a woman, in any shape or form, was unacceptable. And both expressed this statement on an regular and consistent basis. My father would often take me aside, especially at times when he was most angry with my mother and say, "Frankie, women will make you mad. Really mad. They will challenge you. You will want to strike out. Don't. NEVER strike a woman. Never raise you hand to a woman. No good can ever come of it - not for her, or you." He was never more right, in every sense: women have made me angry. I have wanted to strike out. And I have done my best my whole life to live up to that standard.

However, perhaps the strongest lesson on this matter came from my mother, the one and only, Stella. Whenever I was about to leave for a date, she would call out to me:

"Frankie, remember, you have a mother and a sister."

"What the hell does THAT mean," was my snide, standard reply.

"You know EXACTLY what that means."

And I did. I still do.

Respect. R E S P E C T. Always.

In Our Memory. The Tribute Part 2

All photos property of F LoBuono

 

In Our Memory. 9/11/2001 Part 1

all photos the property of F LoBuono

Today's MOZEN: Practice Makes Perfect. 9/9/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

I have worked hard to try and understand human nature. I think that, perhaps, I may be beginning to. One thing apparent to me is that we have a dual nature. Humans are capable of great compassion and empathy while at the same time being guilty of indescribable cruelty. In today's super-connected world, it's easy to find. Just scan a page of Facebook and you will see the full range of human emotion. There are entries that warm the heart followed immediately by ones that shock the senses. I think that I understand the complexity of our emotions and that hate is as real as love. However, I also believe that we as humans should strive for a higher ideal and for ways to minimize hate and maximize love. Isn't this the point of all spirituality and religion?

So, why does it seem that, especially lately, hate seems to be triumphing over love? All of us, firsthand, are witnessing the brutality that is sweeping the world, often in the name of god. Why? I suppose the simple answer is that it's easier to be hard. It's easier to destroy then it is to create. It is easier to give in to the baser emotions of greed, lust, jealousy, and anger. It takes an effort to reach a higher plane. It takes sublime thinking to achieve a level of consciousness where fear is not the ruling factor. To attain enlightment we must overcome the strong urges that keep us tethered to emotions that have been with us since the beginning of our very consciousness as a species. We cannot, and should not, discount these emotions. They are what we are. The challenge is to find the right place where we understand our negative feelings but are not ruled by them.

Like exercising (or writing for that matter), there are times when being nice seems like drudgery. It just "feels" better being pissed off. We'd much rather bite someone's head off then take an extra minute to understand why they may have made you angry and that it probably wasn't all THAT important in the first place. A quick flash to anger usually is our first reaction. However, over the course of time, if we stay disciplined and focused, allowing our initial impulse to pass becomes less of an effort. Sure, there will be days that we have to make that extra effort but, in time, if we practice what we preach, being nice will be no effort at all. In fact, like all things that are practiced over time, kindness, compassion, and patience become second nature. In Buddhism, is is called Mindfulness. And it is something that is worked towards on in a daily basis. From my understanding, mindfulness is an actue awareness, even unto a molecular level, of what is going on around us and the interrelationship of all things. Mindfulness allows for consideration of all things. It is a simple concept that takes, according to Buddhist traditions, many lifetimes to achieve. But, as with all long journeys of discovery, it starts with the first step.

The old adage practice makes perfect applies to so many things in life. The more you do something, the more it becomes so-called second nature, the easier it becomes to accomplish. Of course, the greater the goal, the greater the challenge, the greater the effort is required to achieve success. However, and this is the point, the MORE we do something, the LESS difficult it tends to become. This is true of sports, writing, and attitude. The more we practice mindfulness, the easier it becomes to live with honesty, integrity, and compassion. In other words, it becomes easy to live a full, fulfilled, happy, loving life. PRACTICE. PRACTICE. PRACTICE. Eventually, you'll get real good at it.

Now, is that so hard?

Today's MOZEN: Light the Light Shine. 9/3/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Like an unseen current we are swept away in the daily flow of wake, work, eat, sleep, repeat. That's particularly acute here, in the shadow of, arguably, the world's greatest metropolis and, certainly, the most competitive. The frenetic pace of New York and New Yorkers is legendary. But, how, from time to time, we all need to step off that conveyor belt of mind-numbing boredom. It's easy to forget that the simplest things can provide the relief we seek. We just need open our eyes, our minds, and our hearts to experience them.

A sunrise, no matter where you find yourself, is FREE. Always. Even those who may live under circumstances far less fortunate than mine can find solace in the sunlight. As the light nourishes the flower, let it feed your soul. Remember, the soul is the one thing that can never be taken without your permission. Your body may be enslaved, but never your being.

We must all take the time to nourish our souls with light and love, wherever we may find it.

Like the simple sun flower, turn your face to the sun and be filled again.

It only takes a moment.

 

Today's MOZEN: It Ain't Easy 9/1/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Arguably, Dorothy Parker's most famous quote is: "I hate to write. I love having written". The statement is both obvious and profound to those of us who labor as so-called writers. The process of sitting at a keyboard in front of a blank computer screen on a daily basis may have replaced staring at a blank piece of paper with a pencil in your hand but it can still be a daunting task, especially for someone who writes as I do. I compose and offer my thoughts not as a novelist but as a journalist/essayist. My purpose is not to create a fictional world but, rather, to ruminate on the one we actually live in. To accomplish this, I attempt to put myself in a position not only to have strong opinions, but to defend them, as well. In doing so, I stick my neck out far enough for all sorts of blades to cut my head off. This is the "hate" part: first, you actually have to write something intelligible -difficult enough all by itself. Then, you have to be strong enough, and sharp enough, to stand the barbs a strong stance is bound to attract. And, since I believe in what write, I can be counted on to have a very strong opinion . I am not afraid to express myself. But, it's hard to put yourself (yes, your THOUGHTS are who you ARE) out there on virtually a daily basis. You have to have thick skin if you want to be in the op-ed business.

Another challenge is, surprisingly, not the lack of things there is to write about but the fact that there are actually too many ! The more I observe, the more it appears to me that the world is bursting apart at its seams. The flow of information is as immediate as it is constant. One major reason for this, I believe, may be due to the proliferation of Social Media and the accessibility it provides to that information. Interestingly, this can also be seen as a "love/hate" relationship. I love it because it provides us with a constant source of information while at the same time keeps us connected to every corner of the globe. Dizzying amounts of data are at our fingertips and can be accessed immediately. For example, if something happens in Ukraine, we know about it here in the U.S. virtually as it's happening. There was a time not too long ago when such information might not have been available for days or even weeks. Social Media is also a powerful tool to keep me connected to friends that I have known my whole life and in fostering new relationships. It also allows me to share my thoughts and opinions with others and hear theirs. This part I love. But there is another aspect that I hate. It's the other side of the same coin.

The shear volume of information flowing in and out of our lives is staggering. In fact, it is so much so that our brains are hard pressed to keep up with it. Alvin Toffler accurately predicted this new, modern malaise many years ago in his seminal work, "Future Shock". The amount of information we can access in a single day is extraordinary - even mind boggling, literally. I read somewhere that consuming the Sunday New York Times can provide us with the same amount of information a 16th Century man needed a lifetime to garner! Unfortunately, much of the news we receive today from ANY source can be depressing. ISIS, the Middle East, race riots, murders, rapes, police brutality and the other myriad ills that plague our society regularly lead our nightly newscasts and information streams. The old newspaper adage, if it bleeds, it leads is as prevalent today as it was when it was coined years ago. The technology may have changed but the ethos has not. And, that IS distressing. It can leave us feeling that the world is on the verge of collapsing at any moment. Even though these calamities have always been a part of our lives, they seem more prevalent today. But the world was a smaller place when most of us were kids. The Internet, Facebook, Twitter, and the like changed all of that. I believe the difference now is that, with the 24 hour news cycle in addition to these other media outlets, we are hearing more about these events then ever before.  It can be an assault on the senses.

Another contributing factor to this modern-age depression is the very nature of the information we receive and how that information is presented. There tends to be a symbiosis between the media and culture. It is not unreasonable to claim that one reflects the other. So, if our Society is negative and mean-spirited, our media tends to report it as such - and vice versa. They feed into one another. For example, our current Congress is acrimonious to the point of incompetence. This has led to a mean-spirited approach to politics; we tend to think the worst in the other other party or someone who may have a different opinion. We question their motivation, their vision, their integrity. And the more it is reported as such, the more prevalent it tends to become. Appealing to the lowest common denominator seems to be the easiest way to process and disseminate information.  So, the tone is set right from the top and it trickles down into every broadcast and information stream. Therefore, it tends to make them negative and mean spirited. This, in turn, leads us as a society to behave according to those principals.

The anonymous nature of the Internet itself also plays a major role. I believe that we tend to be more bold when we have the protection of electronic isolation. By that I mean it is much easy to make strong statements or insult someone when sitting miles away from them, looking at a computer screen, then it is when we are up close and personal. All one need to do to witness this is spend some time on Facebook. Facebook is a wonderful depository of not only information but hopes, dreams, and desires, as well. Many of us share things of the most intimate nature there; birth, deaths, and just about everything in between. It can provide a sort of emotions glue that bounds often disparate parties. Anonymity can aid that. But it can also have a dark side. When we feel safe enough to share, we often feel safe enough to harm, too. We see it all of the time: a Facebook (or other, social media) conversation about a controversial topic gets heated. The thread of comments gets more and more pointed. Everyone wants their opinion taken seriously. Eventually, the epithets start to fly and the "conversation" disintegrates into childish name calling. If we keep it civil, we can get a lot done. However, today, that seems to be the exception rather than the rule. Mean Spirited.

But there is something that may be even more insidious at play. And that is the barrage of vapid, worthless, useless infotainment (an industry term describing programs that supposedly inform AND entertain) programming that assails us without remission. There is the endless parade of so-called "reality TV shows" featuring the likes of duck calling Hillbillies, housewives from just about anywhere, fat-assed Hollywood celebrities, a nervy clairvoyant from Long Island, a food tossing chef, a plethora of teenage mothers, toddlers in tiaras, and lots of chubby children who have no talent except to eat. Some may call it entertainment. I have another word for it: SHIT. What frightens me most is not just that these programs are made, but the fact that they ARE made because people actually watch them!! These programs would find no purchase if they had no audience. But, obviously, they do. If they did not, they would just dry up and blow away like so much desiccated dog shit. Some will defend it as harmless. But, to me, this represents a dumbing down of our society that is every bit as dangerous as a terrorist attack. If we produce a generation that knows nothing beyond people who are famous simply for being famous, we are truly doomed.

It's enough for me to want to stick my head in the sand and hope that when I eventually come up for air, everything will be better. Well, this may work for ostriches but it certainly does not work for me. Yes, there are times when I've had enough. If one more piece gets cut out of me, I'll be nothing more than a mere skeleton. I'll not suffer one more sling nor arrow. I just want to crawl under the proverbial rock and be left alone. It sure would be easier to just shut the f'up and walk away. And, sometimes, that's just what I do. I just recently had a bout of it. I did not write much here or on Facebook. It was nice to think that the world was doing just fine without me. I had found my rock to crawl under. But, it's not in my nature to sit back too long, out of the fray. No, not my nature at all. After all, I LOVE having written. Perhaps, because my words may have made a difference. And people have told me that they have. That's the payoff. That's the love of writing. It's difficult on many levels, especially if you are willing to always write the truth as you see it. But, when it's done well, it can facilitate needed change. I know others may get frustrated trying to change the world. They believe their lives and goals are better served on a smaller scale - saving the world is a job for someone else. I understand and respect that. It's a pretty big job. However, I also believe in trying to live what the Mahatma Gandhi said:

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

And you can't effect change from the sideline.

Guest Author Robert Debbaut

Lenny’s 70^th Birthday Tour

 

It was a festive night in dear Ann Arbor town.  The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra (VPO) was in residence again with Leonard Bernstein on the podium.   The time was October of 1988, and as part of what was dubbed "Leonard Bernstein's 70th birthday" Tour, VPO's only performances outside of major US cities would be in Ann Arbor at the vaunted University of Michigan Hill Auditorium, one of the greatest  music halls in the world.

 

Bernstein had in particular wanted one concert on this tour to be in Ann Arbor because of the acoustically superior hall and the University of Michigan's storied conducting program. Led by his protégé’ from Tanglewood, Gustav Meier, Michigan's conducting program had grown to be one of the three preeminent institutions of conductor training in the world. Graduates had won major competitions and held music directorships and professorships of conducting literally all over the world.  

Unfortunately, Maestro Bernstein had no time to come and share with us at the conducting seminar, but it was announced by Professor Meier that all the conducting students were invited to a reception in his honor at the President's House on South University following the concert.

“Black tie, gentlemen,” Meier said with a smile.

Two years prior VPO and Bernstein had been in town for two concerts: a magnificent Mahler 5 and a second evening of Sibelius 5 and Bernstein's own Serenade After Plato's Symposium.  This year featured Beethoven's Leonore Overture No. 3, Bernstein's Preludes, Fugues and Riffs for Clarinet solo and wind band, and Brahms' Fourth Symphony, a work the VPO had indeed premiered while Brahms was still living and with the composer in the audience.

The concert was great!  It is a rare privilege to watch a composer conduct his own music and Bernstein, VPO and the soloist, their principal clarinet, did not disappoint.  Afterwards, dressed one and all in tuxedos for our "black tie event," we all rushed over to the President's House to, of course, wait. 

Upon entering all received name tags from the June Cleaveresque Mrs. Duderstadt, wife of the university president, and were encouraged to partake of punch and cookies.  Bernstein was, of course, not there yet and, as we found out, not even CLOSE to being there.  Mr. Bernstein had an endearing policy of greeting every single soul who would come back to congratulate him after concerts.  This particular evening, however, it was not endearing but annoying--we all wanted to see "Lenny."

After what seemed an eternity of small talk with people one saw every damned day, a bit of a stir was detected near the side entrance of the President's House. Soon, dressed in a blue sport coat, grey slacks, blue pin-striped shirt and sporting what we were later told was a copy of Serge Koussevitzky's cape (black with red satin lining, tied in a bow at the neck) appeared the guest of honor, his silver mane combed back a bit, his contagious smile lighting up the room, made that much brighter by the warm applause accorded him by all there gathered.  To his right there appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, an arm holding a bowl of amber liquid and ice. 

Nodding to acknowledge the applause, Bernstein reached without looking, took the bowl o' scotch, quaffed down a healthy draft and said:

"Okay, who's voting for George Bush?"

We all laughed and looked around as three or four brave souls of the hundred or so there raised their hands.

"Only three of you?" Bernstein exclaimed, "THANK GOD!!!"

Before even shedding the cape, he then went to each one of those who had expressed support for the then-vice president's aspiration for higher office and teased them about it. One faculty member-- apparently spineless (probably an associate dean; one doesn’t get those jobs based on one’s backbone)—nodded and agreed with every point Bernstein made against GHWB.  Exasperated by the lack of defensive arguments from one who, while he had made up his mind, lacked the clear conviction necessary to engage Leonard Bernstein in a public debate, Lenny raised his voice a bit and asked the spineless sycophantic associate dean for bedknobs and broomsticks:

"So why are you voting for George Fucking Bush?" 

Try to imagine how much that delighted all of us.

Next in the evening's comedy came Ken Fischer, the impressario of the University of Michigan's Performing Arts Series and ostensibly Bernstein's host.  Bernstein complimented Fischer on how neatly his pocket handkerchief was folded.  Fischer giggled a bit, said something to the effect that it was just fabric on cardboard and then pulled It from his pocket to show everyone.

Bernstein rolled his eyes with an audible "Aaaauugh."  

Fischer said to him "Surely you don't fold your own before all these concerts."

Bernstein said: "Yes, I do, every night, and I tie my own bow tie." (On the Monday following this event I could be found at a State Street haberdasher purchasing my own tie-yourself white bow tie).

Each of we five conducting students was sought out by him during the evening.  About each of us he knew a little tidbit--things he shouldn't have known at all.

For example, saying to a colleague who had changed his name for professional reasons "That isn't your real name, is it?"

Either he was psychic as well as multi-talented or he had a shill among us--I tend to believe the latter, but would not be shocked to be proven wrong.  My close encounter concerned my use of five horns to play the three horn parts of Beethoven’s “Eroica,” which I would conduct for the first time in two weeks.  Rather than follow the example of Associate Dean Quackenbush I held my own in the discussion.  I found out at the end that disagreeing might not have been the best to do with a genius, who smiled at me in closing and said “Bless you.”  After all, it is quite a burden to know everything.

The maestro, an artist surely as worthy as anyone of this title but who never allowed himself to be referred to as such in his own program biographies—always “Mr Bernstein”--was then ushered to a couch at the larger end of the room and brought some snacks to go with now the third one.  There we "kids" gathered around to ask questions and converse.  

After starting his next scotch, he looked up quizzically and asked "Why aren't you kids drinking."  

"It's a dry party," said a fellow student.

“Well, we can’t have that,” he said, and motioned to his body man, Craig, to refresh the glass. 

Bernstein’s scotch tumbler was then passed among us like a communion chalice.  While many refrained, there were a few giggling, nervous sippers.  I, however, took a generous sip from the "holy grail" of the genius in our midst and, as I passed on the glass to my right, whispered in a friend’s ear “The Blood of Christ.”

One more large tumbler of scotch was quaffed over a few more stories, questions and jokes—geniuses are, by nature, quite witty, verging on hilarious--and it was apparent by certain actions that it had been decided  by our stuck-in-the mud host, President Duderstadt, and his equally uninteresting wife, June Cleaver Duderstadt, that the evening should end. Lenny, revealing his inner adolescent boo-boo face, looked genuinely disappointed, and told the young composers who had now gathered 'round him:

"Gee, kids, isn't there some place we can go and have a drink together?"

The Full Moon on Main Street--a tavern notable for its wall (and I mean WALL) of beer varieties--was quickly and enthusiastically suggested and chit chat sprang forth about who was going to go and how to get LB there.  Meanwhile, Bernstein, obviously pleased that the festivities were being taken on the road, finished his scotch, lit another cigarette and started snapping the fingers of his right hand and doing a little marching in place to the rhythm he heard in his head.  Then, to the tune of his Preludes, Fugues and Riffs he began singing:

"I'm back again in MI-chi-GAN, I'm hangin' at the CAM-pus INN, I hear there is a LOT of SIN in MI-chi-GAN."  

Then he giggled a bit, coughing as he did, and was ushered to the back door where the limo waited.

This writer surely had not had enough of the intoxicating presence of genius and would have happily followed the caravan to "The Moon," but this cute coed in a party dress had just whispered in my ear the old proverbial offer one cannot refuse.  What can I say?  In any case, while the evening had been quite satisfying, it was ultimately so for both body and soul.

 

Today's MOZEN: The Sorrow of Suicide 8/12/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

It's the saddest word in the English language and it's heard all too often these days: Suicide.  I feel this way because the taking of one's own life signifies a complete loss of one of the most essential of human emotions - hope. It is the nadir of a person's life. It's a point that someone simply cannot go past. Suicide is an act committed in a realm beyond utter desperation. There is no one else to turn to. There is no other place to run to. There is no other medication left to take.There is no future. There is only pain, a panicked decision, and a decent into nothingness. This is life's real tragedy. How can one lose the very will to live?

It has come into focus once again with the recent suicide of Robin Williams, a supremely talented and often troubled artist. It seems that the passing of celebrities like Williams bring issues like this to the forefront - and they should. Williams was a transcendent performer and rightly so. His manic demeanor, rapid-fire wit, and skill with words made him one of the most beloved entertainers of his time. Almost every person alive can name one of his film performances or comedy routines. So, this raises a very important question when dealing with suicide: how could someone so bright, so enormously successful, who affected so many in a positive ways, be so lost as to end his life with so much more of it left to live? Well, the answer is both complex and simple. It's complex because dealing with the mind of an artist is a two edged sword. The inner vision that allows them to see things that others may miss also brings them to areas of darkness and desolation. It really is the other side of the same coin. It's the concept of yin and yang: you can't have one without the other. This is particularly acute in geniuses like Williams. It was known that, despite his public persona of constant laughter, Williams had a dark side and suffered from severe depression. This, then, leads us to the simple answer. He was a human being just like you and I, susceptible to the same joys and fears as you and I. Celebrity cannot shield one from being human and the emotional conflict that comes with being one.

I'm sure there are people who will say things like "what a selfish thing". "He took the easy way out instead of fighting". Or, "why didn't he seek help"? Well, none of that is true. It is not selfish. It is desperate, and there's a difference. Knowing the effect it will have on others makes suicide a most difficult thing to actually execute. And that's very important because it keeps most of us who have considered suicide (and I think in fairness that at one time or another in our lives, in times of desperation, most of us have at least considered it) grounded and prevents us from acting on those urges. Lastly, of course he sought help. It simply stopped working. Ah, and there my friends, comes the desperation. All of the defense mechanisms that protect us deserted him.

I suppose that at times like this, these lines from John Donne's poem "For Whom The Bell Tolls" echo my sentiments best: ask not for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee. I try to share in the humanity of it, if that makes sense. I FEEL for Williams. I sense his joy and his fear. And I sense his desperation - the desperate feeling that comes in the belief that only death will bring an end to suffering. Why do I feel this connection? Well, we all should because we are all human beings who suffer the same frailties. Just because Williams was famous does not make him immune. And I would feel the same way for anyone of any social level who committed suicide. They are my brothers and sisters and I feel their pain. I would tell them that, even if it didn't help, because, perhaps, it just might. Isn't doing all you can do to save a life worth doing?

Therefore, going forward today I have committed myself to being a positive force in the world and in sharing that ethos. I will reach out not only to the ones that I know and love but to all I encounter. If this can turn one head, one hand away from the shadow of death, then I will have accomplished something. And, in a sense, Robin Williams will not have died in vain.