LIFE IN THE SKY I

LIFE IN THE SKY II

Today's MOZEN 6/27/2013

Words and photo by F loBuono

I was thinking of prefacing this MOZEN with the standard, bull shit disclaimer: I am not gay, but I have friends who are . . . Well, FUCK THAT! It's not necessary. It should have never been necessary. Not here. Not in MY America.

After yesterday's Historic Supreme Court ruling essentially striking down the so-called DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) as unconstitutional, the Court paved the way for real change - and most certainly for the better. Gay couples, should they decide to marry, will now be afforded, UNDER THE LAW, the same rights and protections as heterosexual married couples (I often tease by saying married gay couples are as entitled to be as miserable as heterosexual ones!). I am not a lawyer, and forgive the oversimplification, but, to me, this is not an issue about marriage, or sex, or tradition. It is one of FREEDOM. The freedom to be whom you choose to be AND to be WITH. Should have NEVER been any other way in a truly FREE society. It may be a shame that it took this long, but, be that as it may, it is here now.

It was, once again, a privilege to be assigned to cover this historic story. I spent nearly four hours at the epicenter of the gay-rights movement, The Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, NYC. Thousands of revelers on the streets in front of the Inn listened to speaker after speaker speak with joy at the liberation this would mean for themselves and their community. I felt the energy and it moved me. I could see the relief and release in their ear to ear smiles. THIS is what America should be, and IS, about!!

So, here's your MOZEN:

Yesterday was not about marriage, or, in the final analysis, even love. It was about freedom - freedom to be who you are, love as you choose, and EQUALITY UNDER LAW.

A DAY AT THE BEACH - The 30th Annual Coney Island Mermaid Parade.

Coney Island. Those of you who have been kind enough to follow some of the stories from my youth recognize the importance of this most unique of islands. I have long maintained that, despite the grit, grime, and crime, Coney Island remains one of the most special places on the planet. There are many reasons that I make this claim, not the least of which is its incredible diversity. In walking the length of its historic boardwalk, it is not unusual to hear four or five different languages; English, Spanish, Italian, Yiddish, and, of course, now Russian. It has always been the epicenter of the melting pot and it still is.

While most of my friends would "summer" at the Jersey Shore, my mother would pack up me, my sister, and my brother and load us on the subway for our annual two weeks at The Poor Man's Riviera, Coney Island. Of course, we would protest; but our friends are at the Shore! And Stella always responded: it's the same ocean!! Besides, my cousins were there and, so, we always had a blast. Coney Island played a huge part. We would pack up the beach chairs, umbrellas and coolers and trudge along Coney Island Avenue to the beach and boardwalk at Bay 8th St. Sun up to sun set, you could find me, my siblings, and our cousins at the beach or on the boardwalk. I had more magic moments growing up there than at virtually any other time or place. Our time there has become part of my family's mythology.

My grandmother is gone, as is the house she raised my mother and her siblings in. I believe that it was sold to a Russian-Jewish family who make up the most current wave of immigrants to "the pot". But some of my family remains there providing a current connection. However, I certainly need few excuses to return to a place that remains so special in my life! I can still hear the echoes of the knish and coke cola vendor who incessantly walked the beach, back and forth, forth and back, all summer long. Hey, get your HOT potato knishes, and, after just the briefest of pauses, ice cold cokes, HERE, he would bellow. I see him, in my minds eye: bare, barrel chest, his white chest hair blowing in the ocean breeze. Cut-off jeans and lace less sneakers completed his beach couture. In each hand he carried a sturdy shopping bag. One contained the wrapped, hot potato knishes - the other, kept cold by a lump of dry-ice was the coke cola. As soon as we heard him coming, yards down the beach, my siblings, cousins and I immediately began the process of squealing for money to purchase one of those hot potato knishes to devour and wash it down with an ice cold coke. Certainly, this was on my mind this past weekend when I returned with my dear friend, Cynthia, for The 30th Annual Mermaid Parade.

The Parade celebrities the incredible diversity and creativity that IS Coney Island. For nearly five hours, costumed revelers march down streets with very appropriate names like Mermaid, Surf, and Neptune. Held to celebrate the official arrival of summer, many people are surprised that this is "only" the 30th Anniversary. It seems to conjure images of the by-gone era of Coney's gilded golden age. It was actually organized in 1983 to attract visitors back to the boardwalk and its attractions which had previously fallen on hard times. However, it IS the natural evolution of the famous Coney Island Mardi Gras Parades of the early Twentieth Century. My mother recalls with great fondness sneaking away with her girlfriends to attend the parade and festivities. Her strict, Sicilian father would never have approved of such wanton frivolity!!

So, knowing that the traffic and crowds would be equally insane, we decided to take the "D" train from midtown to Coney. We parked the car on 57th St. and walked to the Subway Station at Columbus Circle to begin our sojourn. And, so it began. Apparently, in gabbing and not paying attention, we got on the "D" in the wrong direction! However, instead of being a "downer", inadvertently taking the train in the wrong direction right from the beginning so that we had a "wonderful tour of the Bronx" just became another part of our great adventure. When we did arrive on a sun-splashed, blazing day, the crowd of tens of thousands already lined the streets and boardwalk. Once again, the incredible diversity that identifies Coney Island was readily on display. This was apparent not only among the marchers but the crowd, as well. There were blacks, whites, browns, yellows, reds, old, young, gay and straight - all mashed together - in the heat - without incident - all having a blast. And there were mermaids, mermaids, and more mermaids. There were even merdogs! THIS is the beauty of Coney!!

Despite the joy of the afternoon, the crowds, at some point, can become overwhelming. After a few hours soaking up the sun and the flavor, it was time to go. But not before we made a pit stop at the legendary L And B Spumoni Gardens, since 1939 one of Brooklyn's dining gems. We managed to catch the "D" in the right direction this time and in an hour we were back in the "real world".

I present the following photographs in the order in which they were made. I hope that will provide you a timeline of what it is really like to attend the legendary Coney Island Mermaid Parade.

 

Today's MOZEN: A Father's Day Story.

Words and photo by F LoBuono

When I was a kid, my old man, like most others who worked in Law Enforcement, would take side jobs in private security to earn extra money. For my father, it was working weekend security at The Casino in the famous, and now defunct, Palisades Amusement Park. Living in Fort Lee, it was a great fit - The Park was located right on the border of Fort Lee and the adjacent Cliffside Park, NJ. In fact, when I was old enough I would work there, too. But, that, again my friends, is a story for another day.

First, it should be understood that the Casino was not really a casino - gambling was illegal at the time. Rather, it was more of a nightclub with a bar, a dining area, a dance floor, and fairly sizable stage. Located not too far from the main entrance to the Park, it was right next to The World's Largest Outdoor Saltwater Pool. There was regular entertainment nightly, and weekends usually had some pretty impressive headliners. Since it was an AMUSEMENT PARK, and the world in general was a safer place for kids, my father would bring me with him when he went to work on the weekends. For a nine or ten-year old kid, it was like being in Shangrila. I mean, come on! I was unleashed in an AMUSEMENT PARK - could have died and went to heaven right there. Of course, money was tight then and, so, unfortunately, I could not avail myself of all the delights that were presented to me. But that was OK, there was still plenty to do and see to keep me occupied. And that included hanging out with my dad at the Casino to check out the great acts who performed there. I can still conjure the aroma of the cheap perfume and stale whiskey odor that permeated the bar area. It was a great atmosphere for a ten-year old kid!

On of those great acts I got to witness was Smokey Robinson and The Miracles. In my minds eye, it seemed like he performed there every other weekend. I must have seen him about a half dozen times one summer. His music provided, as they say, the soundtrack of my life. He was so cool - so well dressed - so soulful - so professional. He's become a legend and rightly so. And I was there to witness it near the beginning; nearly 50 years ago. That image has never left me.

Who would have known that, all these years later, our paths would cross again - and more then once? In my role as a news photographer, I have had the privilege of shooting Smokey on a number of occasions. In 50 years, he has hardly changed! He is still straight as an arrow. Fit and trim. He is ALWAYS dressed immaculately - the consummate professional and cool dude.  And he is a gentlemen in the truest sense of the word. He is open, honest, and approachable. But the thing I remember about him most and still find striking, to this day, are his incredible eyes; they are clear as the night sky and piercing green. The light up with everyone of his frequent smiles. In many ways, he reminds me, physically, of my father. Smokey has wavy hair, very near in appearance to my father's. And my father had similar, striking eyes. My father's were a paler green, almost grey, but were just as unique, especially considering their complexions.

Once again, I had the good fortune of photographing Mr. Robinson during an interview at the recent Song Writers Hall of Fame Gala in NYC. Smokey has already been inducted and was there to honor the induction of his friend Berry Gordy. Of course, Smokey was his gracious self, giving us his undivided attention during our interview. At the end, I did something that I virtually never do: I called him closer to my camera so that I might speak with him personally. Seeing him on this particular night, so close to Father's Day, brought me a powerful memory of my youth and a time when my father was not only still alive, but at the height of his power. My father is gone more than 25 years now, but, of course, I still think of him. Something will trigger a memory and I'm transported, even for just a moment, to a place where I can feel his presence. This was one of those times. I felt so strongly that I wanted to share it with Smokey. As a professional, I feel it anathema to inject personal moments into these particular situations. It's generally not appropriate. However, this time, I felt it necessary to make an exception. The feeling was that strong. Besides, this was Smokey! Certainly, such a cool cat would understand. I called him over: Smokey! I have to share something with you. Not to disappoint, he came closer. I instinctively grabbed him by the shoulder with my left hand (my camera was on my right shoulder). Afterwards, I thought that this might have been rude. But I felt compelled to touch him somehow -as if that physical connection would solidify the more ethereal one. In a sense, I was reaching across the void of time and space. He never recoiled or seemed to mind at all. Smokey, I must have seen you a half-dozen times as a kid with my old man at Palisades Amusement Park!  He smiled and said, no kidding? That so? I gave him a very brief history of my time there and told him that seeing him gave me such a strong, positive feeling of my father's presence. He responded as I knew he would: That's great! That's what it's all about. I smiled back. He turned and left, leaving me content with a strong connection to a happy, innocent time shared with my father.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY to all fathers, past, present, and future.