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.

Today's MOZEN; A Plea For Peace 7/31/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

The situation in Gaza is critical. There are many complex reasons why. But nothing happens in a vacuum. Nothing. And there is plenty of cruelty to go around. In a war as vicious as this one (are there any that aren't?), it is difficult for anyone to really claim the so-called Moral High Ground.

I suppose that this is the simplest way that I can explain it:

Hamas desires to reduce its population to martyrdom. And Israel is all too willing to accommodate them.

I am not skilled in international politics and I am certainly no prophet. But I do know that if we don't, somehow, break the cycle of violence we are doomed to repeat it forever. Only love can conquer hate . . .

Today's MOZEN: War Is Hell 7/27/2014

Words by F loBuono. Photo by Cynthia Imperatore

Recently, on Facebook, shocked by the terrible carnage currently being perpetrated in Gaza, I posted a series of comments and writings by the American Civil War General, William Tecumseh Sherman. He is credited with being one of the first commanders in the modern era of warfare to employ the concept of Total War. He imposed this most brutal way of fighting during his legendary March to the Sea when he destroyed most of the State of Georgia. His plan was to eliminate not only enemy combatants, but anyone, or anything, that might aid them or the South's war efforts. If it meant starving out the local population, then so be it. It was savage. And it was effective. There is no doubt that it helped hasten the end of the Civil War.

Now, based on that alone, it might be reasonable for one to assume that he was a war-loving monster. But, in fact, he was not. If you read key elements of those comments and writings, he may have been quite the opposite. Unlike the WWII American General George S. Patton, who is regularly portrayed as having "loved" war, Sherman, apparently hated it. He is often given credit for coining the phrase War Is Hell. However, that is not exactly what he said or how he ultimately (I believe) wished it to be interpreted today. Some of the most important elements of what he actually did say and write are as follows:

"You cannot qualify war in harsher terms than I will. War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it."

"It is only those who have never heard a shot, never heard the shriek and groans of the wounded and lacerated .  .  . that cry aloud for more blood, more vengeance, more desolation.

War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it.

Here was a man who had first-hand experience with the violent death of tens of thousands. He was not immune. No person could be. But he did the job he swore to do. Once the threshold of war was crossed he did not hesitate. He could not hesitate. He knew full well that in war, ultimately, there is only the living and the dead. Limited war, so-called "police engagements" and their ilk are like masturbation; it may provide some level of pleasure but does not completely satisfy our needs. If you commit to war, there can be no turning back. There are no half measures. That is why it must be AVOIDED at all costs.

There is a scene in the Academy Award winning movie "The Bridge on the River Kwai" (1957) that frames this argument beautifully. During WWII, captured British prisoners are forced by their Japanese tormentors into building an important bridge over a river in Burma. The conditions are particularly brutal and are exacerbated by the excessively harsh treatment by their Japanese guards. In an attempt to alleviate some of the suffering of his men, the commander of the British prisoners approaches the Japanese prison camp commander with a copy of the Geneva Convention (rules "governing" war and the handling of prisoners) to complain about their treatment. The British commander presents the book to the Japanese commander and explains that the Geneva Conventions prohibits the Japanese from using his men as slaves. Flashing a copy of the book, he proclaims: "What you are asking my men to do is expressly forbidden by the rules of war." The Japanese commander looks at him with bewilderment, grabs the book from his hand, slaps him across the face with it and screams, "Don't speak to me of rules. THIS IS WAR!"

Ultimately, I wish to make one point and one point only; my posting of General Sherman's statements were not a testament to the need or justification FOR war but, rather, as a declaration against it. When we remove the glory form war (there is none) and see it for the abomination that it really is, we will stop making it. Because, in the end, there are no innocents. There are only the living and the dead.

Today's MOZEN: The Power of Love 7/20/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

I am not a religious scholar. Nor do I play one on television. And I am not a Christian, Jew. Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Atheist, Agnostic or any other label that people hang on you to qualify your beliefs. I am a spiritual human being. By this I mean that I have studied at least portions of all of the those religions/philosophies to reinforce and aid my efforts in being the best human being that I possibly can. And I always look inward to find the answers.

In my pursuit of this spiritual knowledge, I think that I may have discovered, at least for me, the key. And that is simplicity. Every religion seems to be steeped in ritual and dogma. There are rules and procedures that each one believes will bring you to enlightenment and then salvation. Without following these strict guidelines, you will not achieve the so-called Kingdom of Heaven. First, I must state here and now, that I don't believe in a traditional, Western style heaven with white, puffy clouds, angels playing harps, and lots of old men with white beards. However, I do believe that the essence of what we truly are is somehow continued after our mortal passing. There is just too much energy within us to just disappear. And this is not just in a spiritual sense, but a physical one, as well. In fact, one of the basic laws of physics states that, energy can neither created or destroyed. It only changes form. What shape or form that may take, I have no idea. And, quite frankly, I am in no hurry to find out.

So, how do we get there? The answer is simply. The path lies simply in following The Word. And what is THE WORD? Well, it is LOVE. And it is not new to us. In fact, it is a recurring theme in virtually all of the world's religions from the very origins of those religions. Perhaps, because I was raised as a Catholic, I am most familiar with how it is expressed through Christianity. First, to attain a fuller understanding, in my mind the one who delivers The Word is not what is most important. It is the concept behind The Word that is. Even Jesus, the Christ, said it himself: I am THE WORD made flesh. By this, I believe, he means that the vehicle is not as important as the destination. The trappings of divinity were cast upon him by others. If this was necessary for human beings to accept The Word, then so be it. If you choose to accept Jesus as divine, that's OK too, just as long as you don't lose the message within the ritual and dogma. It's kind of a "you can't see the forest through the trees" type of mentality. We can get so caught up in the "appearance" of spirituality that we forget the true meaning of it.

Second, despite all of the sermons and parables, Jesus (and others) broke it down to the most simple of messages when he said, "and the greatest of these is love". Yes, it is that simple. For all the miracles, all the hype, all the interpretation, all the ritual, all the dogma, it comes down to this: and the greatest of these is love. I will never understand why we feel the need to complicate things beyond this most simple and sublime message. Love. Love. Love. Love others. Love yourself. Fill your hearts with it. Fill your heads with it. Fill your souls with it. And forget the rest. Don't be afraid to love. It's the greatest power on earth (and in heaven). And it's all the religion you need to know. The sooner we accept that, without reservation, the better the world we be.

Today's MOZEN: Priorities 7/15/2014

words and photo by F LoBuono

LeBron James. Carmelo Anthony. Are they so-called household names? If they weren't before, they sure as hell may be now. They are superstar basketball players who, after months of speculation, signed mega deals with the Cleveland Cavaliers and the New York Knicks, respectively. The suspense, aided by almost nightly reports on their potential signings, made the anticipation palpable - whether you liked it not!! The signings of Anthony and, particularly, James were so important that it was reported not only within the nightly sportscast but was actually deemed significant enough to interrupt the regular nightly newscasts! Really? Yes, really. Oh, the DRAMA!

James, widely considered the best player in the game, returned to his roots, Cleveland, Ohio. Perhaps, you may recall that a similar situation occurred four years ago when he left Cleveland to play for the Miami Heat. The media, lead by ESPN, built the suspense of his signing to epic proportions. It included a disastrous press conference when James uttered the now infamous line, "I'm taking my talents to South Beach". Apparently, for the right money, his talent will play out just fine in Ohio, beach or no beach. Anthony, one of the league's top scorers is a native New Yorker who has professed a desire to be part of bringing an NBA championship to New York. I'm sure that both men have the best intentions and money played no part in their final decision. And if you believe that, I have a few NYC bridges to sell you.

However, it is not the money that galls me, it's the hype. In today's sports world, athletes are paid what the market can bear. In the case of these two players, their skills, at least in the minds of their respective teams, are worth the money. Otherwise, they would not have gone to such great lengths to sign them. However, the HYPE is another matter. Being in the business, I know how difficult it can be to fill a 24- hour cycle. It's hard so it tends to get filled up with crap. And this is just another example. They even have a name for it: HYPERBOLE. If you were to believe the news/sportscasters the moves made by James and Anthony were the most important decisions of the year, perhaps even on the level of releasing terrorists from Guantanamo Bay. No, really.

Look, I get it. Sport is big business. Owners make big money. Coaches make big money. Players make big money. And big money is big news. But let's put it in perspective. One anchor from a major news network called the James decision to return to Cleveland "the answer the whole world was waiting for". Really? The whole world? With everything going on at our borders and in the Middle East, the whole world is waiting? Get real!

Both men said that it's not about the money. It's about "winning" or "community". Well, that may be the case but neither man is signing for nothing! Both signed for MILLIONS - more than you or I could ever imagine earning. In fact, pundits are saying that the contract signed by James is one of the best in all sport today. So, THERE'S your community; a community made of millions - of dollars, that is!

The long suffering city of Cleveland, the so-called "mistake by the lake", rejoiced as if the second coming had happened. For many, it did. But is this city really that lacking in cultural, community, and civic pride to hail the signing of a basketball player as THEY answer? Really? There were ecstatic street celebrations. Fans cheered James' new found maturity. They were all willing to forget the transgressions of the previous episode.There were "live" reports on virtually every major network in front of the arena where the Cavaliers play. Today, days after the signing, the story is still making headlines. Really? Cleveland? Is THAT little happening there that you need LeBron to save you? He will raise the team AND the city from the level of mediocrity they seem to be suffering from?

In contrast, New York, the greatest city in the world, reacted positively (mostly) with strong coverage. However, it did not see "Melo" beyond his role as a basketball player. In fact, some expressed displeasure with the signing. The coverage certainly did not raise Anthony to the level of savior as Cleveland did with James. But I suppose that goes with the territory; New York is, well, The Big Apple, with all the cultural and civic activities any one place can offer. Cleveland is still looking for an identity beyond "The Mistake on the Lake".

I mean this as no insult to the people of Cleveland. I hear it's actually a sweet, little city. However, to elevate any individual, especially someone from the world of sports, to the level of a messiah is just plain lame. I also get the premise that a team can raise a city. It has happened before and it can happen again. However, in the end, it's still a matter of perspective.

Today's Photo Gallery: Fourth of July 2014. Nyack.

Today's Photo Gallery: HAPPY BIRTHDAY Part 2

Photo Gallery: HAPPY BIRTHDAY Part 1