Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: Death on the Thruway

F LoBuono

The concept of FATE has been with us since man first pondered his place in world at the very beginning of time. In can be defined as that which is inevitably predetermined; destiny*. I suppose it has vexed us for so long because it can be seen from so many different points of view:

- WE control SOME of our destiny, but only to a point. 
- We have NO control of our future on any level or at any time.
- Unseen, spiritual forces have the ultimate control over our lives and we give control to them.

I suppose that I use the word most often when I observe a series of circumstances that can't be explained in any other way except to attribute them to FATE. Perhaps, this is some type of coping mechanism; when things are beyond our understanding, we attribute them to this unseen force, i.e. FATE.

Often, FATE involves a confluence of factors, each separate until they come together to produce a single result. Sometimes, the consequences produce spectacularly positive results like fame and fortune and, at other times, devastating repercussions.

And, FATE is in play in our lives everyday and in every way. Here's an example:

I was driving on the New York State Thruway the other day and was approaching an overpass. I noticed a pigeon above that was beginning its decent to its perch somewhere under that overpass. Just as it reached the edge, a huge tractor trailer arrived at EXACTLY the same time. The timing for that bird could not have been worse - as it clipped the top of the trailer it exploded into a jumble of white and grey feathers, and blood. In other words, it was instantly obliterated.

Of course, I experienced a moment of shock at what I had just witnessed. It was all so sudden, violent and, yes, tragic. I know it was just a pigeon, a flying rat as some New Yorkers would call it. But, to me, it was still a living thing that was wasted. Perhaps, it was even flying to some kind of nest to feed its young ones. Now, their future was inexorably linked to that of the parent, proving that nothing happens in a vacuum. In other words, their fate was also sealed in the blink of on an eye. They would perish without even knowing why they had been abandoned.

It left me thinking about the power of FATE, how, in a fraction of a second our lives can change. And, how often we are left looking for a reason "WHY". It is at these times we can only trust in FATE, that what has happened to us was simply meant to be. The answers to those questions are beyond our capacity to fathom them. We must simply accept what has happened and resign ourselves to our FATE, trusting that it was all meant to be. Perhaps, this is a cop-out. As humans we seem to need a reason for everything - all cause and effect. Well, sometimes, things just ARE and we need to just leave it at that . . .

* Dictionary.com

Today's MOZEN: Perspective

The Roman triumph (triumphus) was a civil ceremony and religious rite of ancient Rome, held to publicly celebrate and sanctify the success of a military commander who had led Roman forces to victory in the service of the state or, originally and traditionally, one who had successfully completed a foreign war.

A Roman Triumph

The comparisons between The United States of America and the Roman Republic - then Empire - are clear and often astounding. One need not be a scholar of ancient history to acknowledge it. Just look at the amount of Latin we use in our National identity (see: E Pluribus Unum) to our very legal system. The great majority of our official National Architecture is in the Romanesque style and our leaders are immortalized as heroes, carved in marble as did the ancient Romans. Who has not seen at least of photo of the marble statue of Julius Caesar?

The Romans practiced elaborate rituals to support their system of government and, therefore, their way of life. The Triumph described in my intro was just one example of many. Funerals of the famous were also elaborate affairs, attended by huge, grieving and adoring crowds. Many of these affairs were drawn out over days. All of it was orchestrated to reaffirm the power and authority of the ruling or, Patrician, class.

Sound familiar?

We are currently experiencing the American version of a Roman ritual.

George H.W. Bush, the 41st President of the United States recently died at the age of 94. His one-term Presidency was one of decidedly mixed results. He did some worthy things like helping to orchestrate the end of the Cold War. However, he also committed some egregious mistakes like the Iran-Contra affair, the Willie Horton blatantly racist campaign ad, and indifference to the devastating AIDS epidemic. He was also a decorated WWII Navy pilot and a dedicated family man.

He also came from one of the most politically connected families in American history. Bush went to exclusive private schools, including Yale and lived a modest, but privileged life in Connecticut, Texas, and Maine. One son also became President and the other, Governor of Florida. In other words, like the ancient Roman leaders, he was a Patrician.

An official day of morning has been declared and memorial events will be held over the course of a week. Tributes are pouring in from every corner of the Country and world. Platitudes are given in abundance. 

Now, there are many who feels this right, just, and well earned - that we need to laud those who serve, and, especially, those who LEAD. But, I see danger in this. When we place our leaders on such a lofty pedestal, we risk losing touch with them and the policies they implement to govern us. And, worse still, they in turn, stop caring about us. With their legacy sealed, literally in granite and marble, their motivation for true SERVICE is compromised. Perspective is lost - was he TRULY a good man or, rather, just a FAMOUS one?

Let give an example of how perspective is lost: my father was a WWII Army veteran who served with Patton's Third Army and survived the Battle of the Bulge. But, he was just a grunt - not a hot shot Yalie Navy pilot. His family lived modestly in Cliffside Park, NJ and had no family compound in Kennebunkport, Me. (as the Bush family has). After his military service, my father eventually became a Bergen County Sheriff's officer where he continued a life of dedicated service until he retired. After his death, he received a modest funeral with a military honor guard. My family was then given the neatly folded flag that draped his coffin. That was it. And, that was enough.

So, was Mr. Bush's life and service SO much greater than my father's and the million of others who have dedicated their lives in service to others? Must we respect his legacy so completely and blindly without so much as a review of what he did right AND what he did so very wrong? But, there is this overwhelming momentum, often fostered by the media, that this is the RIGHT thing to do - it's good for THE COUNTRY. It just HAS to be. I mean where would we be without our heroes? THIS is the same things the Romans did - continually reinforce the image of power and glory held by the only ones with the means, desire, AND pedigree to rule, i.e. The Patricians. And, we, like the Romans buy it completely.

Look, there is a time to mourn. A man has died. His family is in mourning. I respect that. But, I also realize he was a just a man - no more or less than any other. Let's start acting like it.

Today's MOZEN: What's a Photo Worth?

Just about everyone is familiar with the old adage, a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, how about this one?

Photo courtesy CNN

It doesn't take a deep thinker to see what is obvious; these two men, leaders of 2 of the most repressive regimes in the world, known to be stone cold killers, obviously have formed a mutual admiration society. However, unfortunately, our current Administration and its leader are about as deep as spit on a sidewalk. So, they obviously don't see it for what it really is.

By his tacit, if not overt, support for these two men, President Donald J. Trump has emboldened them to the point of euphoria. They have discovered, he can be bought - and, rather cheaply, too. It's not just the money, but also by something as simple as feeding his ENORMOUS ego: yes, Mr. President, you ARE the greatest American leader - ever. Certainly, Mr. Trump, we would LOVE to do business with a great businessman like you, etc., etc., etc..

The only ones missing from the photo are two of the world's other vicious despots and Trump cronies, Rodrigo Duterte and Kim Jong-un.

It's pathetic. No. Wait. It's worst than that. It's DEPLORABLE.

A true leader is a person with insight, intuition, knowledge, wisdom, altruism, and compassion. When right is on the line, there is no hesitation. There is no consideration of personal gain. There is an inner, moral compass that guides them to do the right thing - even at risk of personal peril.

The men depicted in this photo, as well as those mentioned in the body of this post, all have one thing in common: they lack ANY of the qualities I mentioned in the previous paragraph. In fact, they take it further in the opposite direction- they do nothing if it does not lead to consolidation of more power, more money, and more debauchery, they simply are not interested.

They all deserve one another. . .

Today's MOZEN: A Different Perspective.

F LoBuono

A society can often be judged by the days it chooses to honor something or someone and the way we elect to celebrate them. Let's take two of America's so-called holidays - one official and one not so much: Black Friday and The 4th of July (a.k.a. Independence day).

Let's take a look at Black Friday first.

Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving when most Americans are off from work and recovering from WAY too much food from the day before (the REAL holiday). It's not official, but many of us treat it as such. So, retailers decided to take advantage of our leisure time and general sloth to offer outrageous bargains, thereby luring us out into the frigid cold to shop until we drop. It is generally considered the kick-off to the Christmas shopping season.

Well, people often do drop - literally. And, not just from the exhaustion of too much shopping but also from others landing a good right cross to the jaw in an effort to secure that last wide-screen TV your neighbor might have gotten to before you. Or, perhaps, it never got that far - you simply stampeded their ass on your way INTO the store. It's often an orgy of grab-grab-grab. People have literally died in the chaos. In other words, the day highlights one of our strongest traits - GREED.

Yet, millions participate and retailers rake in  $ billions.

Next, let's look at the 4th of July.

The fourth day of July, the day the Declaration of Independence separating us from Great Britain was signed, is celebrated throughout the Country with fireworks and other grand displays of patriotism. Backyard barbecues are staples of the day. Taking advantage of this fact, Nathans Famous Hot Dogs of Coney Island sponsors an all you can eat hot god eating contest at their original venue on the boardwalk there. Contestants consume as many tube stakes as possible within a predetermined period of time. They soak the hot dogs in water to easy their passage from gullet to stomach. The participants usually gag themselves in their effort to ram as many down their throats in the time allowed. The results often show them spewing the macerated contents through their noses and other orifices. It's simply charming. It highlights another of the traits we can be proud of - GLUTTONY.

Yet, hundreds participate and millions more watch on TV.

Look, there are lots of great things about this Country. But, these ain't two of them!

Yes, let's make America Great Again - and, put things in perspective.

That is all . . .

Today's MOZEN: A Friend In Need

F LoBuono

People often ask me when my long love affair with my adopted hometown of Nyack, NY will wain, if not completely end. After all, in my 35 years here I must be aware of the many changes that have taken place, all of them not necessarily for the better, they say. Many of my neighbors are concerned that we are moving from a quaint river village to a trendy, gentrified, over-developed cliche.

Yes, we have changed. And, yes, some of those may not be in everyone's best interests. But, we live in one of the most competitive regions in the world. Here, life is synonymous with change. In fact, it is inevitable. Therefore, each community may be judged on what it chooses to accept in its march to the future and what it deems irreproachable, ie. their CORE values

At Nyack's center is a value that has not weakened in my 35 years here - and, that is each person's commitment to their neighbor. I saw it when I first moved here and, if anything, has only gotten even more pronounced.

I experienced it again this evening.

It's Thanksgiving, and as has been the case for the last 17 years, after a few hours with my family, I found myself at work. Even though I didn't spend a lot of time with them, at least I had the opportunity to visit and share some love. However, this is not the case for many of our friends and neighbors. They have no one and spend the entire day alone. Instead of a joy, this makes holidays a very difficult time for them. I believe that was the situation I encountered.

During a slow moment at work, I was surfing Facebook when I noticed what I originally thought was a comical post. It was a friend pleading that she was in danger of losing her mind. So, I teased back. But, it was not a joke. She was in serious mental distress. But, what was I to do? I was stuck in NYC and she was 25 miles away in Nyack. I wrote to her and asked her to hang on, I would get someone, somehow, to help.

Well, I never even had to pick up a phone to ask!

Other friends must have also seen the post and IMMEDIATELY began to Private Message me inquiring if everything was all right with her and what they could do to help. I mean within minutes, I had at least a half dozen people inquire what might be wrong. One women who lived close by volunteered to walk to the woman's apartment to see if she could help directly. And, despite it being a Holiday with RECORD LOW TEMPS, that's exactly what she did. And, there were many others willing to do the same thing!

She did, indeed, find our friend in crisis. She calmed her and called for an ambulance. Then, she waited until the paramedics arrived to take control of the situation. Now, she will receive the care she desperately needed. And, as I mentioned, there were others willing to do the same thing. They were not worried that it was late in the evening or that it was bitter cold. All they knew was that they had a friend in trouble and they would do anything necessary to help.

To protect everyone's privacy, I have not revealed any names. That's not necessary at this point. What is, however, important to note is how many people cared enough to reach out to a neighbor in need, without reservation AND with great and genuine concern. In fact, I'm still getting inquiries as to what our friend's current condition may be. I am happy to say that, for now, she is safe.

I want to thank everyone who was involved with this crisis for their kindness, compassion, and genuine caring. THIS is what Thanksgiving AND Nyack is TRULY about. . .

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: An Accidental Encounter

It was an accidental encounter in the parking lot of O'D's - the old O'Donoghue's Tavern -the legendary, gritty, Gin Joint - not the new (and delightful), more organic version. It was one of the few remaining Nyack, NY Speakeasies; Eastwick's was gone, as was The Office, which hosted some of the world's greatest Jazz  musicians. As for the more traditional drinking establishments (with all due respect to The Coven), it was either O'D's, near the corner of Broadway and Main, or The Old Fashioned, near the south end of town. I tended to frequent both on a fairly regular basis.

On this particular evening, I decided to stop in at O'D's for a cold one and some great conversation, both of which you could find in abundance there. I remember it was a warm summer evening because I drove my old '67 Mustang convertible there and parked her in the lot on the side of the tavern. She was a classic; candy-apple red, with a white interior. Had a 3-speed on the floor with with a Hi-Po 289 V-8 under the hood. And, I kept her cherry, too - a real eye catcher.

'67 Ford Mustang Convertible

After a fairly uneventful beer or 2, I decided to head for home. I paid my bill and went for my car. As I turned the corner, I noticed 3 men around the vehicle, one of whom I recognized; Paul O'Donoghue. He was standing near my front left bumper. Near the right front was another man that I did not know. The third, a rather large man with wild, blonde hair and a thick beard was, literally,
kicking the shit out of my left rear tire! The all seemed to be feeling no pain - especially the big guy kicking my tire.

Paul O'Donoghue/ F LoBuono

Quizzically, I called out to Paul:

Hey, Paul, whaz up?

Without hesitation, he replied:

Oh, HI Frank. Is this your car?

Still puzzled, I said:

Uh, yeah?

Paul responded:
Let me introduce you to my friends. This guy over here (gesturing to the other man at the front of the car) is Terry Southern. And, the big guy kicking the shit of your tire is Harry Nilsson.

I didn't know how to respond. I went from confusion and possible annoyance to jaw-dropping awe!

Terry Southern/Jerry Schatzberg photo

Terry Southern was not a household name but I sure knew who the hell he was. How could any Child of the 60's like I was not know the man who co-authored "Easy Rider" and "Doctor Strangelove". Harry Nilsson was already a legend in Nyack - not only for his incredible music but for his outrageous antics, as well.

I think I managed to mutter something witty and charming like:

Oh, hi!

Nilsson blurted out:

Nice wheels.

And, that was it. The 3 turned without further conversation and went on their way - possible to Harry's storied white van (a story in and of itself).  Although I maintained my friendship with Paul, I never saw Harry or Terry again.

Harry Nilsson/photo unknown

Now, all three are gone - as is The Old Fashioned, replaced by a wonderful Peruvian restaurant, The red convertible is also gone - sold to a collector long ago. O'D's has survived, but in a totally different incarnation.

I have always fantasized about what might have happened if I threw all 3 of them into the Mustang and we sped off into the sunset together - what adventures we might have had. If I only had the musical skill of Harry Nilsson I could make it a song - or, the writing chops of Terry Southern, create a novel or screenplay.

But, for now, they we all will just live in my memory.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: Only In New York

Most people are familiar with the saying, only in New York. It's meant to convey the moments of orchestrated chaos that New Yorkers usually take for granted. Things happen so quickly (think New York Minute) and with such endless variety here, when we encounter something others may think "unusual", we merely shrug. Sometimes these moments are outrageous and even grotesque, like someone shaving their legs in the subway. Others are completely unexpected and sublime. The latter was the case for me this afternoon.

I was cruising to work down the West Side Highway. Considering the mess it was for the snowstorm the night before, I was making great time. That was until I hit 125th St. Suddenly, the traffic came to a screeching halt. Having been exposed to the rigors of a daily NYC commute for many years, I knew some mishap ahead was snarling things up.

It's pretty well known that I don't do well in traffic. In fact, it drives me crazy (pun intended). But, I've been doing my best lately to simply accept it for what it is and tell myself it's a just matter of patience. Besides, it was a beautiful afternoon with a spectacular fall sky framing the City and the Hudson River. So, with one eye on the crawling traffic, I let one drift to the sky. I was just south of 125th St. and a flock of seagulls were darting up and down, squawking in unison. Since Manhattan is an island, seagulls are not exactly rare around here. But, there antics still provided a momentary distraction from my dilemma.

Then, something caught my eye: one of the seagulls looked decidedly different. First, it was considerably larger. And, instead of a white body and dark head like the others, this one had a dark body with a white head and bright, white tail feathers. I strained my eyes to get a better look. It was then that I realized it wasn't a seagull at all. In fact, it was a BALD EAGLE. There was no mistaking it. As Bald Eagles are opportunistic hunter/scavengers, it must have been looking to steal a meal from one of the gulls! The unique opportunity to encounter this magnificent animal thriving within the environs of Americas most frenetic and congested city can certainly be classified as an ONLY IN NEW YORK moment.

But, Bald Eagle sightings are becoming more common place here - the soaring cliffs of the Palisades and abundance of fish making ideal habitat. In fact, they've become like most New Yorkers - hustling and going about their business in the greatest city in the world.

Unfortunately (or, fortunately depending on your POV), traffic started to inch forward and I had to turn my full attention back to the road. Besides, she was not interested in hanging around anyway. After a few moments, she was gone in, well, a NEW YORK MINUTE.

Today's MOZEN: Where is Mr. Lincoln?

1 of 2 known photos of Lincoln at Gettysburg (photo: M. Brady?)

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. (* entire address is below)

On November 19th, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln uttered these legendary words of consolation and reconciliation during the dedication of the National Cemetery for those soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice for our Country at the Battle of Gettysburg which raged on July 1,2, and 3rd of that same year. In a mere 2 minutes - yes, TWO minutes - Lincoln was able to codify the complex range of factors that was tearing the Country apart and the sacrifices necessary to save it. Even though the Civil War would be fought for almost another 2 years, these profound words began the healing process we so desperately needed.

It was the first time an American President attended a ceremony at a National Cemetery to honor our war dead. The tradition continues to this very day.

THIS is what GREAT leaders do - they utter the right words at the right time!

Now, we have a President who seems actually incapable of uniting us. In fact, Mr. Trump seems bent on finding ways to separate us.

On November 11th, France's President, Emmanuel Macron, invited the world to Paris for an International Day of Peace to commemorate the 100th Anniversary of the ending of WWI, The War to End All Wars. As part of that commemoration, the leaders of all the great Western nations, including President Trump, made plans to visit the various cemeteries around Paris to honor those who perished in that horrible conflict.

Well, ALL of them kept their respective appointments save one: Donald J. Trump. Apparently, the rain, that EVERY SINGLE OTHER leader managed to deal with, proved to be simply too much for OUR President. It seems the low cloud cover prevented his military helicopter from flying to the location. And, quoting "logistical difficulties"  he was not able to arrange for ground transportation - this despite the fact members of his own staff like Gen. John Kelly, managed to organize a caravan and attend the ceremonies.

Trump in Paris/CNN

It should be noted that Mr. Trump did attend a solemn ceremony the next day at a cemetery containing American war dead. However, it was too little, too late. The opportunity to heal a divided Nation, as Lincoln so brilliantly did nearly 155 years ago was LONG GONE. Instead, as his custom, he created division AND derision with his insistence of not America First but, rather, TRUMP FIRST.

This was a theme that France's Macron picked on to call out Mr. Trump's folly, suggesting that true Patriotism has nothing to do with Nationalism. He calls for a world that acknowledges the history and culture of individual nations while at the same time welcomes and ACCEPTS the differences in others. It's a concept that Mr. Trump either doesn't understand, or accept. And, it's shameful.





* Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863

---

When You Think About It: Moo

F LoBuono

Last night, while watching a little late night TV, I caught an old Western. It was pretty standard stuff: rough and tumble cowboys driving a herd of cattle through the prairies and to market. The actors who played the key roles are insignificant for this post.

However, what did strike me as important is how the behavior of the cattle was not so different than our own human proclivity to be herded.

An average steer (the type seen in the movies) weighs about 1600 lbs. In addition to their size and strength, many of them sport extended, sharp horns. Yet, with a series of whistles, shrieks, and some fancy horseplay, the cowboys manage to drive these animals hundreds of miles through hostile, arid land until they reach their final destination - the stockyard pens and eventually, slaughter.

Now, When You Think About It, are we REALLY so different?

Can't our current political climate be seen as us being led, through a series of whistles, shrieks, and fancy horse play to our own demise, too? Like the cattle, we are also powerful yet, still, relinquish that strength by blindly following others, often without reason.

Longhorn Steer

It's the only way that that I can explain those who so loyally (and, blindly) follow President Donald J. Trump. All one need to do is watch one of his rallies to see the comparison. First, the President uses a series of shrieks, whistles, and fancy horseplay to whip his herd into a frenzy. Then, Mr. Trump as trail boss, uses his followers' herding mentality to have them blindly follow him to wherever he may lead - without question (remember, he could shoot someone on 5th Ave. and his minions will still follow him).

Well, I'm no bovine creature! I may indeed march, but always to a different drummer. Besides, where this President leads, I care not to follow. And, I intend to chart my own course once again when I vote MY conscience this Tuesday.

Today's MOZEN: Nyack - A Love Letter

Words and photos F LoBuono

It's no secret. In fact, I write about it so often, my friends make fun of me for it. I adore Nyack and have since I first set foot in the village 35 years ago. There is simply so much to love about the place: the River, the Palisades, the architecture, and, most of all, the people - they care about WHERE they live and HOW they live.

And, it's reinforced on a nearly daily basis.

It happened again last night. It was Halloween evening and, in a rare occurrence, I actually had the whole day off. So, I prepared our porch with some spooky images, candles, and, of course, plenty of candy in the hopes that the kids who make our neighborhood so special would be enticed to visit with us.

After a relatively slow start, they did start coming and, kept coming - the youngest ones with their parents at first, then the older ones, often on their own. One thing that struck me that makes Nyack so special is its diversity. We saw EVERY ethnicity represented. Our initial guest was a young Latino couple with their young son dressed as Ironman. Next, came a young mom with her toddler, a tousled blond-haired, blue-eyed Superman. After them, an Asian couple brought their two Harry Potter themed costume kids to Trick or Treat. As the evening came to a close, a group of high school kids, black, white, and brown ones, came by for their goodies. And, EVERY single one of them couldn't have been more polite or grateful for the treats they were given.

With the current situation at our Southern border creating controversy and mayhem, it was such a pleasure to witness such a diverse community come together in the spirit of unity that is what truly makes our Country great! I knew not the immigration status of any of our visitors - nor, did I care. All I saw were thoughtful, clean, caring, human beings of all ages sharing a simple, good time.

I love this place.

Still.

Always.