The Luna Park Gazette

As we slog our way through the Winter that Refuses to Die, I’m doing my best to think warm thoughts. The other day I recalled a drive I took with my parents to High Rock Park in Staten Island. God only knows how many years ago this was, but I remember it was early Spring and we had decided to go out for a ride on a beautiful sunny day—remember those? High Rock was a great choice because it was close to home, but the woods there are so dense and the wildlife is so plentiful, it’s hard to believe you’re still in New York City. Our timing could not have been better. We had gotten there just when all the birds’ eggs were hatching and the air was filled with the nearly deafening chirping of what sounded like thousands of baby chicks making their debuts. The noise was incredible. Living in the city, I’ll hear birds occassionally chirping, but these squawking newborns sounded like an orchestra. All those new lives coming into existence gave me such a feeling of hope and serenity that whatev...

“Remember, O man, that you are dust and to dust you shall return” – Genesis 3:19 Each year there seems to be fewer and fewer people getting their ashes on Ash Wednesday. When I was growing up, everybody and his brother made sure to get the black cross put on their forehead. Of course, I went to Catholic school and going without ashes back then was kind of like wearing bowling shoes to Sunday mass. I was going to skip it this year myself. I’m hardly in the running for the Christian of the Year Award, if there is one, and I feel kind of weird walking around all day with this blotch on my forehead. But I wanted to keep up the tradition, since I was raised a Roman Catholic, after all--even though I am now going to an Episcopalian church. And the idea of being self-conscious convinced me that I should go ahead and get the ashes. If people want to give me weird looks, they’re more than welcome. I also felt like I’m honoring my mother, who wanted us to observe the Christian traditions. I made...

Millions of people will be watching the Super Bowl on Sunday, but I won’t be one of them. It’s unfortunate because I always enjoyed watching the game. I’m not much of a football fan, but, like a lot of people, I watch the Super Bowl for the commercials. But this year I'm boycotting the game because of one commercial in particular--and it’s got nothing to do with the Budweiser Clydesdales. No, I'm referring to a pile of propaganda being perpetrated by that allegedly “Christian” outfit called Focus on the Family. (Jesus, even their name makes skin crawl.) They’re behind an ad featuring somebody called Tim Tebow (told you I wasn't a football fan) and his mother, where, according to news reports, she talks about how she ignored her doctor's advise to abort her fifth child and went on to give birth to the big time football hero. What this little tale has to do with a woman's right to choose eludes me, but I wouldn't expect anything less from Focus founder James Dobso...

My service as a juror in Kings County Court came to an abrupt end today. I had been picked (screwed?) with 7 other people to sit on a civil case involving a car crash. We had expected the trial to go on for at least the rest of the week. But just after the attorneys made their opening arguments, Judge Solomon—yes, that’s his name--stopped the proceedings and sent us home. We were told this morning that the two parties had settled their case and our services were no longer needed. It was very difficult not to do a Homer Simpson “ woo-hoo! ” in court and run out the door, but I managed to control myself. Our court officer, Ralph, told us that people who seem really determined to go ahead with a trial often lose their nerve upon seeing the jury. “They realize that it’s serious,” he said, “and they think, ‘hey, I might get nothing.’ ” Judge Solomon told us that we wouldn’t be called for jury duty for another eight years—when I’m 60 years old—unless, he added, “we have a spike in crime.” I ...