13 Days and counting where I have not looked a my News Feed. Full disclosure, I have looked at Messenger and linked my last post via FB, but I have not looked at the targeted advertising in almost two weeks. And SURPRISE!
Life goes on.
Yesterday the media giant announced that they would no longer carry White Nationalist Content on their site. I have no illusions that my little protest had any impact, but never the less, I am going the full 17 days without Facebook . One for each minute they live streamed murder. But, I think they still miss the point.
Is Hate Speech Free Speech?
If not, then why not ban all hate speech, and be extremely vigilant about what live streams? Which in turn could create jobs all over the world. Take a firm stand against all forms of intolerance and hate.
I am just one person, yet certain that many more people are outraged over Facebook's lack of over-site when it comes to violently disturbing content. I don't care what people believe or what god they pray to, but I insist on non-violence.
Thursday, March 28, 2019
Sunday, March 24, 2019
NINE DAYS GONE
My challenge to myself to boycott Facebook for live streaming 17 minuets of murder enters double digit days. This is not to say I have totally abandoned my friends there. I have used messenger to communicate, and received e-mail notifications for some of your posts.
But I have not "scrolled" my news feed for nine days. More importantly, I have not been looking at the targeted advertising. It is a small gesture, I know. However, I feel it important to take some kind of stand.
In a world where we all can take more control of our entertainment programming then ever before, we seem increasingly dependent on one source of information. Divide and Conquer is still a very real threat, and we have been severely divided in this nation. I personally am experiencing a Red Neck Elitism in my part of the country. The "If you are not with us, you are against us, my way or the highway" set if you will.
If we keep being steered to the extreme right, or the extreme left, all we do is go round in circles.
We need now, more than ever, a more direct path to the future. One that does not treat the very real problems of our society like clay pigeons to be shot down for sport by people who would like to destroy our government.
But I have not "scrolled" my news feed for nine days. More importantly, I have not been looking at the targeted advertising. It is a small gesture, I know. However, I feel it important to take some kind of stand.
In a world where we all can take more control of our entertainment programming then ever before, we seem increasingly dependent on one source of information. Divide and Conquer is still a very real threat, and we have been severely divided in this nation. I personally am experiencing a Red Neck Elitism in my part of the country. The "If you are not with us, you are against us, my way or the highway" set if you will.
If we keep being steered to the extreme right, or the extreme left, all we do is go round in circles.
We need now, more than ever, a more direct path to the future. One that does not treat the very real problems of our society like clay pigeons to be shot down for sport by people who would like to destroy our government.
Sunday, March 17, 2019
MARCH 17, 1954
Welcome to day 2 of my 17 day challenge to myself. I will forego Facebook and all its trappings until the cruel month of April.
Today I celebrate the life of a man I never met, yet without whom I would not be. My grandfather, Stewart Ransom, passed this day in 1954 while watching the parade on TV.
Since then, St. Patrick's Day has always been a, let us say sedate, if not somber occasion for our family. Which is very out of character for us. (We like to party.) But I have never had the green beer, nor passed out drunk at any of the festivities.
When we were very young, my kid sister and I, were taken to the big parade down Fifth Avenue by our neighbor. We sat on the curb as so many marchers went by I thought the ground moved and the people stood marching in place. I caught a good glimpse of Mayor Lindsey, and an even briefer glimpse of Bobby Kennedy, for he was surrounded by photographers.
How did I know it was Bobby Kennedy? Mrs. Agnes Butts, our neighbor who had taken us to the parade, leaned out against the blue and white police barricade and shouted,
"WE LOVE YOU BAW-BEEE!"
She talked about it all the way back to Mariners Harbor.
I do like to hear from my relations who tell me stories about "Pop". He was gone before I came along and I often wonder how different my life might be if he had the opportunity to influence me.
That is part of the mystery to life I indulge in these days, now that the pressure to be perfect at work is part and parcel of my retirement.
God Bless, and Keep you, Pop. Say hi to mom, and dad, and all the aunts and uncles.
Today I celebrate the life of a man I never met, yet without whom I would not be. My grandfather, Stewart Ransom, passed this day in 1954 while watching the parade on TV.
Since then, St. Patrick's Day has always been a, let us say sedate, if not somber occasion for our family. Which is very out of character for us. (We like to party.) But I have never had the green beer, nor passed out drunk at any of the festivities.
When we were very young, my kid sister and I, were taken to the big parade down Fifth Avenue by our neighbor. We sat on the curb as so many marchers went by I thought the ground moved and the people stood marching in place. I caught a good glimpse of Mayor Lindsey, and an even briefer glimpse of Bobby Kennedy, for he was surrounded by photographers.
How did I know it was Bobby Kennedy? Mrs. Agnes Butts, our neighbor who had taken us to the parade, leaned out against the blue and white police barricade and shouted,
"WE LOVE YOU BAW-BEEE!"
She talked about it all the way back to Mariners Harbor.
I do like to hear from my relations who tell me stories about "Pop". He was gone before I came along and I often wonder how different my life might be if he had the opportunity to influence me.
That is part of the mystery to life I indulge in these days, now that the pressure to be perfect at work is part and parcel of my retirement.
God Bless, and Keep you, Pop. Say hi to mom, and dad, and all the aunts and uncles.
(from L to R) Uncle Stew, Pop, and Daddy)
1943
Saturday, March 16, 2019
17 DAYS WITHOUT FACEBOOK
On March 15th, 2019, Facebook unwittingly broadcast a murderer rampage through Christchurch, New Zealand for 17 minuets.
This is unacceptable.
So, for 17 days I will not look at their page, nor see their targeted advertising, nor promote in any way the use of that irresponsible medium.
Thank you to those who have found this page. Please comment. I will be posting here more regularly.
This is unacceptable.
So, for 17 days I will not look at their page, nor see their targeted advertising, nor promote in any way the use of that irresponsible medium.
Thank you to those who have found this page. Please comment. I will be posting here more regularly.
Thursday, March 7, 2019
The Last Commute
From where it all began, Staten Island, I drove into work the morning of Monday, February 25, 2019.
The flood of thought and emotion has yet to subside. Later in the week my family and friends would gather for a festive evening. But not before I attended mass for a fallen hero. A heartbreaking loss.
What follows here are a few snapshots and musings from my last week on the best job I ever had: serving the people of the City of New York. Along with a tribute to not only a great inspector, but also an amazing man.
The flood of thought and emotion has yet to subside. Later in the week my family and friends would gather for a festive evening. But not before I attended mass for a fallen hero. A heartbreaking loss.
What follows here are a few snapshots and musings from my last week on the best job I ever had: serving the people of the City of New York. Along with a tribute to not only a great inspector, but also an amazing man.
SIE at sunrise
Damon start of last tour.
“I am, I said. But no one cared. “
Neil Diamond.
Not
just leaving a job, but leaving. Leaving New York. A place of supreme
pain and ultimate pleasure. The portal of possibility. Emerald City. My
family. My home.
New
York gets into your blood. Under your skin, it can torture and
delight you all at once. Drive you insane with pleasure. Enrage you with
envy. Misshape you with avarice.
NYC. The ultimate amphetamine. Adrenaline rushes that last for weeks. Months. Years.
NYC.
Powerfully seductive. A barbiturate. Hallucinogenic opiate. Her old
bones and new glass. Her power to create and to destroy the very
molecules of dreams.
A
place of unlimited and towering success. The nadir of failure. Heights
reaching for the stars. Depths unfathomable to the gentle and naive.
Love more powerful than time. Hate malignant and terrible.
For every action, equal and opposite ... lawless justice. Unkind civility. Camaraderie.
Greed.
Always
Greed driving mad drivers forward faster and faster until, one day,
their wheels come off. And the only way to insulate yourself from the
excruciating pain is to surround yourself with people. Family. Friends.
Strangers. And things. Work. Play. Houses. Boats. Cars. Clothes. Art. Jewelry. Or...
Booze.
Drugs. Sex. All the addictive forces of nature and chemistry, (Yeah,
chemistry. ) conspire to console a challenged mind, a broken heart, a
despairing soul.
And in the end...yes. The love you make...but also, in the end...
... there is no end.
Though we all come and go, The City remains.
“I am a rock, I am an Island.”
Paul Simon
The current Emergency Operations Center for DOB
Thomas Zurica and Jen-Scott Mobley
And amid my exit I am reminded of life's real value. We lost Tommy Zurica. 59 years way too young, as he succumbed to his two year battle with brain cancer a week before my retirement. He coached me to the end on how to go about submitting my papers. These photos are from 2013 after receiving the Commissioners Award for Team Excellence. Tommy Z was the best of the best.
TZ and me.
(from L to R) Willie Blake, Damon, Lenny, and Tommy
(from L to R) Scoffield Smith, Damon Boccadoro, me, and Tommy.
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
SOMETIMES - a poem...
Sometimes
The hurt of my whole life
comes upon me unawares.
A certain song or a fragrance
on the late winter, early spring air
And like a zephyr
it envelops me.
This feeling of loss,
and grief,
and love, and
joy,
and peace.
All at once.
Sometimes
But always a woman 's voice singing.
And always woman's perfume.
Always.
Unbearable.
The hurt of my whole life
comes upon me unawares.
A certain song or a fragrance
on the late winter, early spring air
And like a zephyr
it envelops me.
This feeling of loss,
and grief,
and love, and
joy,
and peace.
All at once.
Sometimes
But always a woman 's voice singing.
And always woman's perfume.
Always.
Unbearable.
Monday, December 31, 2018
LETTING GO
Year End post...
I was recently watching the Kominski Method with Michael Douglas and Allan Arkin, a new Netflix series. It made me laugh and cry at the same time. There is a line in it which inspires this post.
"True love is letting go."
There are so many things this past year that I have let go, and there are even more ahead for 2019.
The explanation on why it has seemed so difficult is love. Simply love.
And to be truthful, to myself, and my love, I need to let go of 2018, and embrace the future.
There are not enough heartfelt thanks to express my gratitude for all the people whom I love, yet must leave behind in order to face my new life. We will still know one another, still be friends, but our day-to-day contact will cease. Your physical being will now be consigned to memory. I know I will think of you all often and fondly. Should you find your way to these words, know that each and every one of you has had a profound and lasting impact on my life. Thank you all for making an adventure out of Civil Service.
To those who have seen so little of me over the years, my family, my loved ones from the beginning, with whom I have missed so much during a career that took me into the very arteries of NYC, I mean to make up for all that some how, some way.
I "retire" from service to the city of my birth, from the weird hours and stressful situations where I met people often on the worst day of their lives. I set out now on a new adventure. To find out who I am now that ERT Inspector 338 has taken his final bow and said...so long.
I was recently watching the Kominski Method with Michael Douglas and Allan Arkin, a new Netflix series. It made me laugh and cry at the same time. There is a line in it which inspires this post.
"True love is letting go."
There are so many things this past year that I have let go, and there are even more ahead for 2019.
The explanation on why it has seemed so difficult is love. Simply love.
And to be truthful, to myself, and my love, I need to let go of 2018, and embrace the future.
There are not enough heartfelt thanks to express my gratitude for all the people whom I love, yet must leave behind in order to face my new life. We will still know one another, still be friends, but our day-to-day contact will cease. Your physical being will now be consigned to memory. I know I will think of you all often and fondly. Should you find your way to these words, know that each and every one of you has had a profound and lasting impact on my life. Thank you all for making an adventure out of Civil Service.
To those who have seen so little of me over the years, my family, my loved ones from the beginning, with whom I have missed so much during a career that took me into the very arteries of NYC, I mean to make up for all that some how, some way.
I "retire" from service to the city of my birth, from the weird hours and stressful situations where I met people often on the worst day of their lives. I set out now on a new adventure. To find out who I am now that ERT Inspector 338 has taken his final bow and said...so long.
Ransom out.
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