Today's MOZEN: Journalism - Sunscreen for the Truth

F LoBuono

People often ask me what good is a Free Press anyway? After all, WHY do we need journalists? What EXACTLY is it that they do?

I like to use this analogy to explain: The truth can be big and blinding, like the sun. It is just as illuminating and powerful. And, it is as essential to life as we know it on this planet. However, left unfiltered by some protective means, the sun can also have a devastating effect. It is the source for all life but it can also burn and destroy. That's why doctors advise against long, unprotected exposure to the sun's rays. They recommend the use of sunscreen in the proper amount and potency if one plans to be exposed to the sun for any length of time.

Well, that's where we come in.

Journalists (at least good ones) act as a type of sunscreen for the truth. Stories, in their raw form, are usually big and complex. They generate a lot of heat, if you will. They must be researched, scrutinized, and then, most importantly, interpreted. Without these checks and balances, a story, like the sun, can burn instead of illuminate. It is up to the journalist to find a way to filter out the harmful rays of distortion and inaccuracy and allow the essence of truth to shine through. Honed through education and years of experience, the journalist, like the right SPF sunscreen, creates a safe setting from which we can bathe in the light of truth and honesty. Left unfiltered, like the unchecked rays of the sun, a story which has not been properly screened for intent and accuracy, i.e. vetted, can do far more harm than good.

Of course, there are those who prefer their information completely unfiltered. And, they have a point. It is important for each person to interpret the facts as they see them. But, it is the journalist who MUST present those facts in a way that we can see them for what they are while not being burned by an unfiltered lie. That is why journalism is a sacred profession. It is an enormous responsibility to shine the light on the truth while at the same time protecting the individual from getting burned.

Today's Mostly True Short Story: St. Partick's Day 2017

F LoBuono

St. Patrick's Day 2017
Pearl River, New York
Southbound Bar and Grill

It was a very rare Friday night, indeed. At least it was for me. First, I had the evening off. Normally, I work on Friday nights, but my schedule was switched to 8 a.m.-4 p.m. It also happened to be St. Patrick's Day and my good friends, Loren Korevec and Tim O'Donaghue, were playing with their band, The Liffey Mud, at a nice little B and G in the heart of the most Irish enclave in Rockland County, NY; Pearl River. The Southbound Bar and Grill is a really local place next to the railroad tracks and in the old train station. If you didn't know it was there, you might walk right by it. Because of this, the crowd would not be overwhelmed by the young amateurs who would be looking to prove their drinking prowess (or, LACK of it) at the more popular bars in town. The music was scheduled to begin at 7.

It couldn't be more perfect.

I decided to get there around 8. This would give the band a chance to get a little "lubed up", in every sense of the word. I parked nearby and walked through the front door to find the boys in good form and the crowd lively and appreciative of the music. Wading through a small mob at the bar, I found a gap and got the bartenders attention. A small women with wavy, strawberry-blonde hair, was alone behind the bar. Despite the fact that it was busy, she seemed to be doing just fine on her own and I didn't have to wait long for her to come over. I thought that I detected a slight Irish brogue when she asked:

What'll it be, lad?

Raising my voice above the din, I replied: What draft beers are you pouring?

Of course, we have Guinness.

I said: Well, I know that it's St. Paddy's Day and all, but Guinness and I are not on speaking terms.

I spared her the gory details of how one St. Patrick's day, a LONG time ago, I was one of those bold, young men trying to prove my drinking prowess (or, LACK of it) like the ones I would be avoiding that evening. I did so by attempting to consume as much Guinness as I possible could at the now defunct Glocca Mora Pub on Manhattan's East Side. I drank so much of it that I was eventually forced to worship the Great Porcelain God for payment. It was so bad that, to this very day, I have trouble simply smelling Guinness. Even during my visit to the temple for Irish beer, the Guinness Brewery in Dublin, I couldn't drink it (now, consuming the whiskey they make is a story for another day).

That's too bad, lad. We also have Heineken, she replied.

I'll have one of those, thanks.

She poured me a long, cold one. I paid and tipped her and turned back to the music which was now in full swing. I stayed for one more round and them made my way home by 10 pm.

Yes, my friends, it was a very mature St. Patrick's Day.

Today's Mostly True Short Story: Ax and Ye Shall Receive.

F LoBuono

Someone must have had an ax to grind with me - because they stole mine!

I love to chop and split my own firewood. I live near a nature trail, so aged lumber is in ready supply. It's just a matter of harvesting it. Splitting the wood with a hand ax is great, natural exercise - no need to go to the gym after an hour of swinging that tool. I use the wood in the small fireplace I have in my bedroom. A warm, cozy fire on a bitterly cold night is one of the few pleasures I take from winter.

A friend had given me and old, wood-handled ax last year and it had served me well for the last two winter seasons. I kept it in an old shed of sorts in an abandoned lot next to my apartment. The "shed" had no door but adequately held the ax and the wood I split there. I never thought of hiding it - after all, who would even think of stealing such a thing?

Well, someone did!

With the latest round of frigid weather, I needed a fresh supply of firewood to burn. So, I went to my little shed to split some for use. When I got there, I went to the spot where I store my ax. It was no where to be found. Figuring that as absent minded as I can be, perhaps I left it somewhere else in the shed. I searched in vane - nothing. After I exhausted all possibilities of where it might have hid itself, I realized that it was simply gone. It certainly didn't walk away on its own. Someone must have seen me use it and figured that they could secure it for themselves with an easy five-fingered discount. Bye-bye ax.

And, it was damned cold - I need that wood!

So, it was off the local Home Depot for a replacement.

I hadn't been to the store in quite some time, especially to buy a tool like an ax, and I couldn't remember where they kept them. So, I decided to ask one of the bright yellow-shirted Home Depot assistants who was congregating near the front checkout area.

"Where can I find an ax", I inquired.

With a quizzical look on his face, he responded, "an ax"?

"Yes, an ax".

Making a chopping motion like he was raising one over his head, he said, "like this kind of ax"?

"Exactly", I assured him.

He paused to think for a second. I could only imagine that, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what I could possible want with an ax. Taking one look at me, perhaps he thought that I would use it to murder someone and dismember their body.

"I'm not sure, sir. Let me ask my supervisor", which he then preceded to do.

The supervisor jumped right in said, "Of course we have them. Follow me, sir. Right this way".

While he led me to where they were located, he made sure that I wanted a full-sized ax and not just a hatchet. I assured him that I did, indeed, need a whole, entire ax. I found exactly what I needed and $30 later, it was mine. There would be warmth that night.

I suppose the moral of the story is that when you need information, you need to ax the right person.

That is all.

Today's MOZEN: JEZEBEL

Bette Davis in JEZEBEL
by F LoBuono

Using the TV remote, I was aimlessly flipping up and down the channel line-up, wading through the mindless drivel that passes for entertainment these days, when I stopped at Turner Classic Movies. "Jezebel"was airing at the time. I was somewhat familiar with the story but had never actually seen the movie. Directed by William Wyler with a screenplay co-written by John Huston, the film was released in 1933 with Bette Davis in the lead supported by Henry Fonda. The role won Davis an Academy Award and established her as a bonafide Hollywood leading lady.

Set in pre-Civil War New Orleans, Davis plays Julie Marsden, a strong willed Southern Belle of wealth and privilege. Henry Fonda is Preston Dillard, an influential and powerful young banker who is also Julie's fiance. Julie is a catch with a catch - she is beautiful and engaging. But, she is also spoiled and petulant.

Together, they are set to attend one of New Orleans' famous balls where all of the young, unmarried women display themselves in elaborate, antebellum white gowns when one day Julie appears at Dillard's office and insists that he leave his work and shop for a gown with her. Citing his busy work schedule, he declines. Julie is incensed and quietly plans her revenge for Dillard's slight. Instead of purchasing the delicate white gown designed for her, she decides instead to go for a hot, red number. This will teach him that she gets what she wants! Her seamstress is incredulous. She explains to Julie that wearing ANYTHING but virginal white is absolutely forbidden. If she insists on wearing the red dress to the ball she will risk becoming a social pariah. But, Julie insists that she will make her own rules when it comes to what she wears. She raves that her life is her own and she will walk the path the see chooses for herself - convention and tradition be damned! She is warned that if she persists in her defiance, there will be consequences.

When Dillard founds out of her plan, he is incensed! He threatens that if she does not honor the tradition and, therefore, the other women, she will pay a hefty social price. When he arrives at her home to bring her to the ball, he finds that she has ignored his warnings and is wearing the red gown. Others in their party beg her to change but she refuses. She is determined to have her way. Dillard accommodates her, letting nature take its course.

Of course, when they arrive at the ball, the couple is met with distrustful glares. The gossip begins immediately. When the time for the big dance arrives, they hit the floor together. Eventually, all of the other couples move away and actually leave the floor, abandoning them to dance completely alone. Julie realizes her folly and begs Dillard to take her away. He refuses, opting instead to allow her to bear the full brunt of her decision. When they do finally leave and arrive at her home, she slaps him for what she perceives as his insolence. He breaks the engagement and leaves the city.

When he does finally return to New Orleans, it is with a new woman - his Northern wife. Julie, who anticipated his return and, therefore, their romantic reunion, is devastated. She eventually finds her redemption by working as a nurse to help quell an outbreak of yellow fever that has affected most the city, including Mr. Dillard.

What I found most interesting about Davis' character was the fact that, at the time, her fierce independence was seen as a most unflattering liability. Another issue was that her attitude flew in the face of a time honored tradition and mocked the morals and ethics of the others on her level of society. It reinforced the idea that if you stand against the crowd, you do so alone. There was a certain level of righteous indignation on the part of her contemporaries, including her fiance. She was "redeemed" only when she sacrificed herself for the good of all - as a "proper" woman should. Her sacrifice is admirable, but it once again establishes the stereotype that women do not lead - they serve.

Now, the film is of a historical nature and looks to capture a bygone era - the Antebellum South. Director Wyler had to remain true to the scruples and morals of that particular time period. It was also made in 1933, not exactly the age when independent women where truly valued (although as an actress an individual, Davis did much to change that perception). Even the title of the film, Jezebel, taken from the bible, is synonymous with morally "difficult" women - at least as perceived by the men who write about them.  I wonder if the film were made today, would the character of Julie Marsden still be seen as a selfish, self centered, petulant bitch or a true, free spirit who is determined to flaunt the rules and live her life as SHE sees fit?

Food for thought.

Today's MOZEN: WTF???????????

F LoBuono

Stella always chastises me to watch my language. I have a tendency to punctuate my conversations with, shall we say, colorful phrases. Simply put, I swear like a stable boy (why stable boys curse so much is beyond me). One of the reasons is where and how I was raised. My friends and I grew up on the streets where swearing was an integral part of our vernacular. Using that type of language, in a sense, has become second nature to me. Besides, I subscribe to the George S. Patton school of public speaking (and writing). When asked why he swore so often, the general replied, I give it to them fast and dirty. That way, they'll remember it.

So, with that in mind, allow me to say this: WHAT THE FUCK?!

How can ANYONE defend the BULL SHIT that is being put forth by our government?

Here are the top WTF? moments from THIS week alone:

Ben Carson, HUD Secretary, compared African slaves to immigrants who came to this Country looking for a chance at a new life. WHAT THE FUCK???????????

Scott Pruitt, the head of the EPA, just DENIED that human activity (i.e. CO2 gas), despite the FACT that 97% of  environmental scientists say that it does, plays a major role in global warming. WHAT THE FUCK???????

Michael Flynn, President Trump's former adviser on National Security, was found to be working for the Turks WHILE he was also working for Trump's campaign. WHAT THE FUCK????????

John Shimkus, a GOP Congressman from Illinois, questioned WHY should men have to pay for prenatal care??? WHAT THE FUCK??????????????????

Donald J. Trump, our President, claimed, without offering any PROOF, that former President Barack Obama had ordered Mr. Trump's phones tapped during the campaign. WHAT THE FUCK?????????

And, I could go on - but, WHAT THE FUCK???????????

Epilogue:

https://www.usnews.com/news/articles/2015-12-17/study-people-who-swear-more-are-smarter-have-larger-vocabulary

Today's MOZEN: Hate by Any Other Name

F LoBuono

In a Facebook discussion a few days ago, a friend chided me for making the recent spike in hate crimes, particularly those involving anti-Semitic behavior, a political topic. I argued that, under the climate currently being fostered by this Administration, that is nearly impossible NOT to do so.

Although hate crimes and anti-Semitism have existed for thousands of years, statistics are indicating an alarming increase in their frequency since the election of Donald J. Trump as President of the United States (http://www.politico.com/states/new-york/city-hall/story/2017/02/so-far-rate-of-hate-crimes-in-2017-outpacing-2016-109621). It is not too far-fetched to simply connect the dots. Mr. Trump's rhetoric, particularly targeting immigrants and refugees, has been far from compassionate. In fact, many have called it downright incendiary. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that one has led to the other.

However, I also think that I get the point that my friend was trying to make. Hate, and anti-Semitism is not exclusive to this Administration. To bolster his case, he sent me statistics of the large number of anti-Semitic attacks that happened under the Obama Administration that went largely un-reported or under-reported. He asserts that for this reason, politics should play no role - hate comes in many shapes, sizes, and administrations. He asked, "why now? Why not ALWAYS"?

On this point, I tend to agree. It s arguable that many are using this current trend more to discredit the President than they for a genuine concern for the elimination of hate and prejudice. THAT does make it political.

However, words count. Attitude counts. POLICY counts. And, this President, in word AND deed, is giving license to those who hate. When we practice exclusionary tactics, it tends to spread like cancer - it starts in one area and, if left untreated, infects the entire body. I believe this is what is happening in our Country now. With Executive Actions that single out particular groups, the President gives tacit approval for those with hate in their hearts to express their vitriol. It may be focused on one group initially, but like cancer, spreads to any others who may be different from the mainstream - like Jews. And, Jews, like few other groups, have born the brunt of the hate since their inception. Although I live in a area where Jews are common place, they still make up a VERY small percentage of the American population. It is estimated that there are only about 5-7 million Jews out of nearly 320 million Americans. That makes them an EXTREMELY small and, therefore, a most vulnerable minority.

This is why it is so dangerous AT ANY TIME to single out ANY ETHNIC group from exclusion.  It may begin with one but, eventually, it effects ALL of us. Hate by any other name, including anti-Semitism is still just hate. Beyond politics, beyond labels, HATE IS HATE IS HATE - and we must condemn it as such in all its manifestations - no matter who is in charge!

Today's LESSON IN SARCASM: WINTER

Winter.

It's all about the love.

I love it when it's so cold that my eyeballs ache, my fingers bleed, my toes scream, and my member shrivels to an even more pathetic size.

I love wearing so many layers of clothes that if I fell down I wouldn't be able to get up from the shear bulk.

I love it when I enter my car, turn the key and hear a noise that sounds something like please don't start me - please don't start me - leeeeeve me alone!!

I love it when the wind is so fierce that it feels like something is eating my face.

I love driving on black ice that can't be seen until it's too late.

I love it after it snows and the road crews lay down so much salt that my green car turns white with the residue until May.

I love the deserted streets because it's too damned cold for any human to walk them.

And, I love it when people tell me how much they enjoy the clean, fresh air, even when it hurts to even breath!

Oh, yes, I LOVE winter.

That is all.

Today's MOZEN: BEAT

F LoBuono

When I'm in a mood like the one I happen to be in tonight, I think of the word BEAT to describe it. I mean it in the same sense that the great author, Jack Kerouac, did when he was writing his seminal work "On the Road" in the early 1950's.  Kerouac, and his compatriots had just witnessed the near destruction of civilization in WWII. Many of them, like Kerouac, served in some capacity (Kerouac was in the Merchant Marine) and experienced the horror of the war firsthand. They returned to civilian life changed men. They saw that the "old way" of doing things was just leading to more death and destruction. It created a weariness in them of heart and soul that was palpable. Kerouac said that they were beat down by their experience. There had to be a better way - and, it could only be achieved with a new type of free thinking. He (and many others) swore to tune in, turn on, and drop out. They were determined to find a new path, a brighter light to guide them into the future. If that meant being "anti-social", then so be it.  They simply would not return to the old ways. And, the Beat Generation was formed.

Now, many people today see the Beat Generation as "beatniks", the precursor to the so-called Hippie Generation - you know folks with long hair, beards, and beads, playing bongo drums and saying "cool man" and "peace" while holding two fingers up in an inverted "V". This is true, but only superficially. The real change came from within. There was rebellion against the authority that had created the whole mess in the first place. The writing of men like Kerouac, Allan Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, and Gregory Corso crystallized this new way of thinking. They were mad as hell and they were not going to take it anymore!

Well, tonight, I'm beat. Yes, I am physically tired but that's not the weariness that I'm talking about. I'm beat in the sense that my soul aches from what seems to be a constant barrage of negative thoughts and images. Today, exacerbated by a new administration supported by millions of my fellow Americans, fear and loathing rather than love and compassion seem to dominate our thinking. Our President and his supporters seem to seek out the worst in people instead of the best. Hate crimes of all nature seem to be on the rise (statistics are supporting this assumption). Fear and distrust of strangers, i.e. immigrants, is becoming common place. Laws protecting our environment are being rolled back. Billions more will be spent on the military rather than on schools and care for our veterans and elderly. Hard won gains in the LGBT community are being reversed. Health care is being obliterated. It's enough to make my fucking eyes bleed!

And, I'm not sure what to do about it. Writing helps, but is it enough? I'm tired of dealing with trolls, i.e. people with small minds and even weaker constitutions. They are the ones who accept the lowest common denominator simply because it's the easy way out. I wish that they would all just dry up and blow away. I don't want to stop caring. I can't. It's not within me to do so.

I suppose the best thing to do when I get in a mood like this is to follow Stella's advice : Frankie, hang in there. Tomorrow is another day. I can always trust (and, hope) that it holds the promise to be better than today.

Today's LESSON IN SARCASM - Baby On Board

F LoBuono

I don't know about you guys, but whenever I see one of those little yellow caution signs that say "BABY ON BOARD" in a car's window, I'm always extra cautious not to ram my vehicle into theirs. I also try my best not to cut them off unnecessarily, tailgate, stop short in front of them, or curse them so as not to disturb the child that is obviously in that car. It's the least that I can do.

Today's MOZEN: IMPERMANENCE

F LoBuono

IMPERMANENCE.

Nothing lasts forever. Not the earth, the sky, nor the mighty sun. Not you. Not me. Not anyone nor anything. Even the majestic mountains will crumble to less than dust. Everything and everyone we have ever seen or known will pass.

It is more than a concept. It is reality.

And, it can scare the shit out of us.

So much so, that I believe this stark image of total finality is so terrifying to the human concept of self identity and preservation that it provides the foundation for all spiritual and religious thinking. Dealing with it is part of EVERY major religion and quest for the understanding of what it means to live and to die. We want to, no, NEED, to believe that at least some part of us is eternal. Many of us find comfort in a belief system that promises its believers with eternal life should they follow the right path. Others may be more philosophical in their approach. And, still others believe in the literal end of time - when things are over they are simply that. I am not willing to judge what path anyone takes in their search for meaning in their lives and what it means to be at its end. I certainly don't have the answer for myself, much less to give to others.

However, as I get older, I'm forced to confront the issue more and more. As a doctor recently told me after a VERY rare but serious medical episode, "you're not a kid anymore, Frankie". And, he's right. As I age, my body IS changing. People say that I look much younger and I still have great energy (more than most younger people) but the fact remains that I am not physically capable of what I once was. I'm not a vestige of my former self but I ain't playing 60 minutes of football anymore, either! I'm grayer. I'm stiffer. I'm slower. I may even be crankier, too. It's happening. I have entered a zone where more of my life is behind me than is in front.

This is not depression. It is only if you let it be. It is reality - one that unites us all.

Part of getting older is also the realization that everyone (and everything) you have known for most of your life is aging with you. And, at some point, they will be gone. It is, again, something that we all have in common. As we age, it is a reality that we will all experience. I happen to be at the point where I must confront not only my own mortality but that of those around me, as well. I just lost the mother of a friend. She was a vivacious woman to the end -at 98. Stella (my mother for the uninformed) just turned 93. And, she is slowing down, enough to have us all concerned. She is a fighter and as long as she has passion for life she (and we) will continue. Even Rexie, my beloved dog, is much closer to the end of his life than he is to the beginning. Although in great shape for such a big guy, he is in is 13th year - ancient in dog years. Again, I MUST prepare myself for the inevitability that they may soon be no more - living only in my memory.

But, this does not frighten nor depress me. It can't. I have absolutely NO power to change or prevent it from happening. There is only acceptance. And, once we get there, there is also peace. There is release when we let go of how we would like things to be and come to terms with how they ARE.

However, there is something that must be done to empower us towards that moment: we must come to understand that all we posses is this very moment. The millisecond it took to think of and type that quote is now already gone. The next one is happening NOW - and, poof, that one is gone, too! Life is really just a series of moments, one after the other, until there are no more to be had. When we're young we think of them as infinite. They are not.

I suppose that my point is to remind people to focus in the moment - to have an awareness of everything and everyone around them.  Live fully and completely. Be passionate. Love deeply and richly. Lose everything and gain more. Smile often. Laugh loudly. Cherish silence. Experience all. Fear none. Give all. Save no emotion for tomorrow. And, in the end, leave nothing of yourself but your deeds.

“When you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.” 
― William Saroyan