UNCLE TONOOSE, random thoughts, photos and humor

Freedom Ring

2009-11-11T13:15:00.000-05:00

Freedom Ring

Two thousand eight hundred eighty-two
Nutley sons fought in World War II
bravely boarding the bus
in the parade past the high school
and on off to Fort Dix & beyond.
The grunts in the ditches,
the pilots, navigators & bombardiers in the clouds,
the privates, sergeants and officers, too.
The heroes of north Africa
Sicily, the Boot, D-Day & Guadalcanal
Iwo Jima and so many more places
no one, then or since, ever heard of.
Our Nutley sons fought & many died
to prove that freedom is not free.

The chime, soft and soothing, struck
when each name is read.
Seventeen here – World War I
Twelve there – Korean War
Nine more here – Peacetime Vigilance
Nine there – Vietnam War
Ninety-two here – World War II.
And we remember the
Nutley sons who played on our streets
marched in the high school band
camped as young boy scouts
delivered our newspapers
hit a long, fly ball over the Oval fence
and reached out and caught that touchdown pass.
They played on our streets.
They lived in our houses.
They loved our town.
They let freedom ring.

Copyright © 2006 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.

Fall of the Berlin Wall - 20 year anniversary

2009-11-09T00:01:00.007-05:00

Today is the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. These photos of the actual Berlin Wall relics were taken at the Newseum in Washington, D.C.

Click on photo to open Newseum display of Berlin Wall slide show in a new window.

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Become a fan on Facebook

2009-11-01T08:26:00.000-05:00

Just a quick note to let you know you can keep up with the news here:

Anthony Buccino on Facebook

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AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty

2009-10-03T22:02:00.004-04:00

Anthony Buccino's new poetry collection is available at
AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty

This new collection of working class verse views life and growing up in New Jersey in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s, and growing older in the 1980s, 1990s and the oughts.

ISBN 0982567707
ISBN 9780982567708

Anthony Buccino published two collections of poetry in 2008.

Voices on the Bus collects his poems written while commuting from northeastern Essex County to Jersey City, N.J.

One Morning in Jersey City collects his poems written in and around Jersey City and sitting along the Hudson River, often at lunch time.

His poems "Hands In Socks" was named Editor's Choice in 2008 Allen Ginsberg Awards. "Ten Minutes" was Honorable Mention in 2009 Allen Ginsberg Awards.

He has written three books of essays based in and around Nutley and Belleville, N.J. He published two books of biographies of the hundreds of men from his home towns who died while in service.

Dragons Live Forever

2009-09-16T23:27:00.003-04:00

As someone who grew up with the sounds of Peter, Paul and Mary echoing from the hi-fi stereo, Mary Traver's voice always had a soothing way about it, even when she was singing about tragedy, injustice and pain.

That Wedding Walk Video!

2009-07-24T21:36:00.000-04:00

This is such a feel-good video.

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid!

2009-07-07T23:00:00.002-04:00

Find it. Buy it!

Now in Paperback—The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid!
by Bill Bryson

Remember wax candy, erector sets, building models, chemistry sets ...

Sunday is Father's Day

2009-06-19T06:43:00.010-04:00

TALK MORE NOW

For two hundred dollars an hour
I can get a doctor to tell me
why I talk to my dad more now
than when he was here.

Maybe as I get older and closer to his age
I'm finally seeing things the way he did
or find some kind of comfort in talking
to him from inside my head

Dad always got the tough jobs, you know,
and I, I was the toughest job he ever had.
I spat on people. They teased me.
I bopped them with my sister's baton.
They teased me, and laughed at me.
I bit them on the ass.
They stuffed me in a garbage can.

So it fell to him to be the bearer
of the swift and mighty blow
to bring the little bastard to his senses
or to render him senseless so he
couldn't hurt anyone for a while.

... But these decades later I find
We talk more now
and I have a different view
of him and the years
we spent together.
I know he was winging it
and I was a whirling dervish.

By Anthony Buccino

adapted from TALK MORE NOW, a poem in progress from the SIXTEEN INCHES ON CENTER collection.

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Her Morning Elegance

2009-06-15T06:48:00.003-04:00

Here's a great video... really makes me think ... how the heck did they do this, like Gumby?

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National Pigeon Day - Saturday in New York

2009-06-12T06:06:00.000-04:00

Saturday, June 13, 2009
Noon - 4 pm

National Pigeon Day

Join us as we rally for the rights of birds, protest pigeon trafficking to Pennsylvania for the purposes of pigeon shoots, pigeon control methods and poaching, rigid feeding laws and hunting activities at places such as the Philadelphia Gun Club in Bensalem; issues discussions, among other topics, will be New York feeding laws, pigeon condos, pigeon disease or lack of.

Pilgrim Hill in Central Park
New York, NY
(enter on northwest corner of 5th Avenue & E. 72nd Street)

Come on out in honor of "New York's unofficial feathered mascot"
(quoted in the New York Post)

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D-Day, 65th anniversary, Normandy invasion

2009-06-05T09:47:00.011-04:00

The Allied invasion of Normandy, France, on June 6, 1944, marked the beginning of the last ten months of World War II in Europe.

More than 110 Belleville sons died in World War II. Nutley sent 2,882 men and women into service during WWII, 92 never came home. Remember their sacrifice as you enjoy the freedom they died to preserve.

Belleville Sons Honor Roll - Normandy Invasion

Nutley Sons Honor Roll - Normandy Invasion

K.O. Pat Francisco POW at Cherbourg

Falduti parachutes into Ste. Mere Eglise

MEMORIAL GREENS
We remember our war dead
with their names raised
on bronze and etched in stone
We remember their lives
and families’ sacrifice:
The best and the brightest
and the bravest, too.
We forget the children
they left with lonely spouses,
we never saw the long tears,
And the proud sadness of those
who gave us their loved ones.
On these memorial greens
we gather to remember the sons,
the fathers the homes, the children
and stop to say thanks
for the price you paid
for our freedom to gather
on these memorial greens in peace.

National World War II Museum

American Battle Monument Commission

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A Father's Place

2009-06-01T10:05:00.000-04:00

A Father's Place

Dads explain what’s fair or unfair and moms decide when it is okay to go out and play. When she tells her friend she has to go in but goes out five minutes later to play with someone else, Dad says how would you feel if they did that to you? She knows how she would feel and pledges not to do it again. But dad knows that she will, and when she does, she’ll remember what her dad said. Maybe.

Dads are their children’s protectors. Dads chase the mon¬sters out of the closet at night. Dads have a special hug that resolves a nightmare’s terror. Dads are as tall as the sky and can reach the cookies moms hide on the top shelf.

Dads have to be dads sometimes. That means they have to yell and maybe spank. Any child can tell you that nobody hits as hard as daddies can. Not even Grandpa. Yet after every repri¬mand comes the guilt of being a daddy. Dads want to be kids, but too often get trapped into being adults.

Dads are as old as forever. They listen to ‘old people’ music like Led Zeppelin and the Beatles. Their car radios are set to all¬ talk stations. Yet, with their own children, dads are forever young. They play horse, hide and seek and checkers when they are in the mood and decide to make time. Dads don’t like to play checkers too much because they lose a lot.
On a hot summer day, dads will chase you around with a water pistol, and sometimes even let you sneak up on them with the garden hose.
Dads have the largest, strongest hands in the world. Little girls in their cradles tightly grab their dad’s index finger and it’s as big as the world outside. But for dads, they see that those small hands hold so much. They hold the future and all dad’s hopes. They instill the fear of God in Dad when he senses the responsi¬bility in that precious grip.

Dads fix everything. But, what they actually do is take it to their side of the basement and shelve it until everyone forgets whatever it was that was broken.
from A Father's Place, an Eclectic Collection
by Anthony Buccino

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Bone Marrow Screening Saturday in Montclair

2009-05-29T11:50:00.000-04:00

Local Mom Organizing Bone Marrow Drive for Kai

Kai Anderson, age 5, was recently diagnosed with leukemia and must have a bone marrow transplant within three months. His father has incurable lymphoma. Can you even imagine? One Montclair mom is doing everything she can to help. She's organizing a drive in Montclair on May 30.

Read more:

http://www.baristanet.com/baristakids/blog/hope-for-kai-a-bone-marrow-donor-drive/#more

Pillsbury� - Sign Up Now and get tasty recipes, meal ideas, coupons and more.

Freedom Isn't Free

2009-05-25T16:20:00.009-04:00

The small town of Nutley in northeast New Jersey lost 92 young men in WWII, 17 in WWI, nine in Korea, nine in Vietnam, and nine Nutley sons who died in service during peace time.

Veteran reads the names of those who paid the ultimate price for our freedom in World War II

The neighboring small town of Belleville lost 112 in WWII, 20 in WWI, four in Korea, 11 in Vietnam, and three Belleville sons in service during peace time.

Belleville War Memorial, Union Avenue

Click photo for enhanced view.
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Zamboni Chooses Cheerios Over Family

2009-05-14T11:59:00.001-04:00

Family pet faces Cheerios rehab

Our 100-pound Labrador retriever is apparently no match for the drugs hidden in Big G, little O Cheerios.

Until recently, Zamboni, our 6 1/2 year-old chocolate Lab, was considered a 100-pound cushion-mush-on who changed cushions every few hours to obtain his perfect level of rest for the perfect length of time on the perfect soft, softer and softest of his various cushions.

But new information from the Federal Drug Administration indicates that our hapless puppy may be a victim of a cruel hoax where a cereal conglomerate has been selling a drug inside their cereal without proper notice on the packaging.

Continue reading

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DAR Museum, in New Jersey!

2009-05-14T09:52:00.003-04:00

On Saturday May 16, 2009 the DAR museum on Rte 23 north will be open for the season.

The museum is the grand home of the Rev. Elias VanBunshooten and dates back to the late 1700s. The museum features many original family pieces from the VanBunschooten/Cooper families. The lovely Dutch colonial home and the outbuildings will all be open for viewing and touring. Also housed in the museum is a local genealogy library.

The Chinkchewunska Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution operates the museum. It is open to the public on Thursdays and Saturdays between 1 PM and 4 PM from May 17 through October 15. Donation is $4 for adults, $3 for Senior citizens over 55 on Thursdays and $1 for children. This year, in honor of 100 years of Boy Scouts, boy scouts in uniform will be admitted to the museum for free!

The museum is located at 1097, Route 23 North in scenic Wantage township. School and other groups are asked to please call ahead for an appointment. Contact 973-875-4610 for directions and appointments. Other questions, call 973-875-2204.

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Okay, so when I first saw it I thought it had something to do with one of my favorite folksingers Dar Williams, but what's better than American history?

War Memorial Books Updated

2009-05-11T06:56:00.009-04:00

Belleville Sons Honor Roll and Nutley Sons Honor Roll latest print editions now available digitally, online

With his daughter Andrea, Anthony Buccino researched the unsung and long forgotten heroes of earlier generations from his present and former hometowns. His latest project – the Nutley Sons and Belleville Sons honor rolls – preserves for future generations of two towns the stories of 347 young men who paid for our freedom with their lives.

The Buccinos collected the stories of 138 Nutley sons and 209 Belleville sons who perished while in service to the United States during the American Revolution, Civil War, Spanish American War, WWI, WWII, the Korean War, the Vietnam War and as peacekeepers preventing war.

With the researching help of his daughter Andrea, the stories of the men were collected, edited and cross-referenced with newspaper accounts, Freedom of Information Act documents and veterans groups accounts.

The ongoing research project resulted in a searchable Internet web site recording the stories of the young men from both towns. Buccino published paperback editions of the collected biographies. Recently, new editions of each book were published and are now available digitally.

Suddenly, with the publication of the Honor Roll tales, the stories, untold and forgotten for 40, 60, and nearly 100 years were suddenly being talked about in Veterans clubs, middle school auditoriums and home libraries.

Buccino heard from widows, sisters, brothers, children, nieces and nephews of fallen soldiers who thanked him after they found their long lost loved one’s tale retold with a fresh breath. They expressed comfort that their loved ones were not forgotten.

In the spring 2005, a new memorial in Nutley was dedicated to Nutley casualties who, it was realized through this research, were not listed on any of the town’s 16 war memorials. Buccino is working with the mayor, veterans groups, and other sponsors and using book sales money to help finance the long overdue memorial.

In May, a new memorial to nine men who died in peacetime was dedicated in Nutley - based on the research in Nutley Sons Honor Roll.

The research effort was recognized by Buccino was named the recipient of the UNICO National 2005 Grand Order Filippo Mazzei William Paca Americanism Award.

UNICO, the largest Italian-American service organization in the United States, said the Americanism Award Committee selected Buccino for his noteworthy efforts in “researching historical facts and contributions of the many unsung heroes who have given their lives for our country.”

This prestigious award is named in honor of Philip Mazzei, an Italian and confidant of Thomas Jefferson, whose ideas and philosophies were instrumental in the formation of the most fundamental principles of our great nation.
The William Paca Award is presented in recognition of historical research and in recognition of the contributions of the many unsung heroes whose lives were expended in making our country the beacon of freedom in the world today.

In November 2005, more than 150 names were added to the Belleville memorial on Union Avenue, Bellleville, after having the blank slate for 50 years awaiting the list of names which was based on the research in Belleville Sons Honor Roll.

In 2006, six street names in a new residential development City Homes At Essex Park in Belleville, N.J., were renamed to honor veterans and four of the Belleville heroes who died while in service.

BELLEVILLE SONS HONOR ROLL
Biographies of the men of Belleville, N.J., who died while in service. In the last century, 156 Belleville sons died while in service to their country. World War II, by far, took the largest toll of 117 young men. World War I took 20 young lives. The Korean War took four lives, and preserving the peace cost us three more Belleville Sons.

NUTLEY SONS HONOR ROLL
Biographies of the men of Nutley, N.J., who died while in service. In the last century, 138 Nutley sons died while in service to their country.

Order information

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY - Mother's Day - the video

2009-05-01T08:11:00.002-04:00

My day. Written by John Roberts and Clay Weiner. Starring John Roberts. Directed by Clay Weiner. DP Drew DeNicola. Edited by Tripp McCarty, Jesse Reisner, Owen Plotkin.

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Carnival
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Pay No Attention To That Airliner Out Your Window

2009-04-27T11:01:00.004-04:00

Just in time for morning coffee break, there outside your window, a few hundred yards above the nearest tall building, there goes a huge commercial jet heading west, followed by a fighter jet.

Maybe we're hallucinating?

No, there it goes again. A commercial jet flying low over Jersey City skyscrapers, followed by a fighter jet.

Wow, this is unreal. Maybe I should pack my bags and plan a way to get home.

Three is the magic number. The jets pass over head. I should get out my camera in case it happens again.

But no, we're given the word to evacuate the building.
You don't have to tell us twice. We're calmly heading down the fire stairs, out into a surprisingly clear day.

Feels like we've been through this before.

http://blogs.wsj.com/middleseat/2009/04/27/readers-did-you-see-the-low-flying-jet-over-lower-manhattan/

- Anthony

An Excellent Credit Score is 750. See Yours in Just 2 Easy Steps!

Picture a HUGE size jet filling all the sky in this photo - that's how big and how low it was!

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Remembering Pat on her 62nd birthday

2009-04-25T09:58:00.003-04:00

Remembering Pat on her 62nd birthday ...

Other summer nights we'd run after

the "Mosquito Man" chasing him through the sweet-smelling blue cloud of smoke emitting from his county-owned jeep. It could kill mosquitos but we never gave a thought as to what it could do to us.
Next door to the south lived Benny and Rosie. Benny let me watch The Three Stooges on his TV when my father had enough and scooted me outdoors.
Whenever their niece Gloria got a second game for Christmas or her birthday, she left the extra at Uncle Ben and Rosie's. Then on rainy days, Gloria and I would play Mouse Trap or whatever.
Rosie's sister Helen used to make the summer for Lulu and me. Helen drove her husband Mitch to work and took the family Chevy for the day. She drove us to Sun Tan Lake far off in the woods of northern New Jersey.
Along with her daughters, Patricia, Mary Ellen and Gloria, she brought my mom, her bingo partner, Lulu and me. Patricia always tried to convince Lulu and me to tell anyone we met that we were cousins.
We were practically related: Our fathers had grown up next door to each other and our mothers had gone to bingo since the game was invented. My dad was Mary Ellen's godfather and Mitch was my godfather.
We saw more of them than many of our real relatives. They were always visiting next door. And at every Pigeon Club banquet, I had to dance one obligatory dance with Gloria who was one year older and a few inches taller. ...

Adapted From Sister Dressed Me Funny

Elementary student strip search

2009-04-22T20:53:00.008-04:00

Seems like this kind of story surfaces every few years or so. Some school decides to strip search a kid and eventually the news gets out and there's a flurry of invective and then it all seems to fade away.

Perhaps now that the Supreme Court of the United States is looking into the strip search of an elementary student in Arizona, the news will play a tad longer on the front page.

But unless you've ever been an elementary student strip-searched by persons of authority, you'll never comprehend the shame and terror. It stays with you forever.

"...Irked at the boys’ failure to come forward with what they had done in their Fruit of the Loom briefs in their charcoal gray slacks, the Sisters herded the four boys down the hallway without allowing the boys a quick prayer to any of the sacred statues in the hall.
They were led as sheep by a shepherd towards the boys’ lavatory. Sister JoAnn stayed behind, just outside the two classrooms to ensure their peaceful, if curious study, while Sister Lenore (or was it Eleanor?) directed the trembling boys into the boys’ lavatory.
She ordered them to stand facing the urinals, one for each of the four boys who had been standing in the hallway next to MaryAnn who had soiled her delicate unmentionables.

The boys trembled, first at a woman in the boys’ lavatory, then at a nun in the boys’ lavatory, and then when Sister Lenore (or was it Eleanor?) ordered, “Drop your trousers.”

“God, help the boy who fouled up the hallway,” she inveighed.

Shyly, each boy, not understanding the trouble each boy was in because of what one of the other three must have done, looked aside at the other boys.

“No talking. Eyes straight ahead,” Sister Lenore barked, her scream echoing against the tile like a doo-wop group’s tune.

With her nose, Sister Lenore’s tried to head off the incident by discovering which of the boys had soiled his trousers before the boys would have to do what she had ordered.

Bashfully, the boys in front of other boys for the first time in their lives began to unbuckle their belts, one boy after the other, then all at the same time. One pair of trousers fell, then another, and another and another.

“No! Enough!” Sister Lenore called curtly called when one boy began to drop his lily white Fruit Of The Loom briefs.

Using her strong Roman nose to sniff out evil-doings in little third grade boys, Sister Lenore inspected the back of the boys’ white underwear from several feet away. In their white cotton briefs, the boys stood facing cold white urinals.

Perhaps it was the smell of this place, or the white disks near the urinal drains, or the smell of cold, hard fear like the cold hard urinal enamel that set the little boys trembling, trying so hard not to cry in front of each other.

Terror flushed inside their racing hearts. They waited to hear the clicking wisp of black rosaries when Sister whisked a solid oak paddle from beneath her long black habit. Sacred fear as the martyrs themselves must have known roiled within the boys as they awaited the “Thwack!” and someone else’s sobbing scream and tears...
...Sister JoAnn, in her most authoritative voice ordered the full class of more than sixty third graders to never again mention what had happened in the hallway or “God, help you,” there would certainly be Hell to pay.

And to this day, no one ever said a word ..."

From: SISTER DRESSED ME FUNNY

The naked truth about strip searches in school

LI educators monitor Arizona student strip-search case

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Copyright © 2009 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.

Sister Dressed Me Funny excerpt copyright © 1996 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

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Hand painted Ukranian eggs

2009-04-20T06:49:00.008-04:00

I tried emailing these photos but got this message:

BANNED FILENAME ALERT

Your message to: xoxo was blocked by our Spam Firewall. The email you sent with the following subject has NOT BEEN DELIVERED:

Subject: egg pics

An attachment in that mail was of a file type that the Spam Firewall is set to block

These eggs have been in the family for decades.

Don't forget, you can click on the photo and see a larger view of the detail.
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Subliminal messages for writers and poets

2009-04-19T20:52:00.004-04:00

We heard of subliminal messages (buy my books) being slipped into movie previews in theatres, but what about subliminal messages (buy my books) being posted for poets and writers at a writing conference.

Anyone who was close enough to read the writing on the wall (sounds like the makings of a good Bible story) at writers workshop on Saturday must have been wondering due to the subliminal messages (buy my books) how low writers might go when facing the terrible brick wall of writer's block.

psychomotor agitagion - two words that we never thought would appear in this blog

Well, as Freud once said (buy my books), sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Or was that Fidel Castro?

Writers, you know how we are. Anything we see and hear is grist for our script-eating mill.

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An easy date to remember

2009-04-14T00:01:00.002-04:00

Letter of introduction

... She was taller than me then. Her presence in my French class always made my day. Her hair was dark and very long, and sometimes it tangled in front of her face and she had to brush it away. She dressed conservatively with long skirts and baggy pants. Never glamorous, pretty much the way you’d want your sister to dress. She was bright, being a friend of mine for a time notwithstanding. Yes, and she wore braces when I knew her.

I took her to see the double feature at the Royal, or maybe it was the Center, in Bloomfield Center. Then, afterwards, we went to IHOP for a bite. We met another kid I knew (not too well, actually); he asked me if she was my sister. Fortunately, I don’t remember if I said anything witty, I doubt it.

I decided to make a habit about reading movie reviews before I took dates to them. One movie we saw that night had Marlo Thomas as an unwed mother. She talked about taking the pill, and never making love because no one might ever ask her, or not taking the pill and getting pregnant. At the end of the movie, she breast-fed the baby. It was some first date. I squirmed in my seat, and even now, I can remember how sweaty my palms were when that movie ended.

The other movie was about a cowboy named Zachariah, and it was biblically significant. All that went right over my Catholic head.

At IHOP, my date had a strawberry shake and told me there were real strawberries in it. I didn’t have anything witty to say. I called my mom to come pick us up. We brought her home. Every time I called to talk to her, her mom said she was out with Jeff.

I stopped bothering her April 14, that year. It was an easy date to remember. That was when Lincoln was shot and when the Titanic sank.

Talk about irony, didn’t know anything about her, really. I learned later her father was a minister, so she probably understood all that Bible stuff in the movie. And later, I learned that Jeff was her brother.

In my yearbook, the next year, she wrote, “It was nice.” I saw her once since then, at a funeral, but I couldn’t say to her what was racing around in my mind. But like I say, she wasn’t there, at the reunion. Her brother was. He was bald, and he sang a solo. She still adds music to my words but it’s a soft tune...

A Father's Place, an eclectic collection
by Anthony Buccino

Carnival
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A Hare-Raising Story

2009-04-11T23:09:00.006-04:00

That old tale of Murphy the Easter bunny ...

I bought Murphy the Rabbit for my wife last year just before Easter.

That Murphy made it a full year with us is a great achievement in a house where the average pet fish lasts about three months. To tell the truth, I never really expected my wife to take care of the rabbit even if, theoretically, it was hers.

Every Easter for the six years we’ve been married, Dawn has talked about getting a pet rabbit like the little white bunny she had as a child. Another dependent was just what I needed. Of course, my wife, clever English teacher that she is, had her arguments all ready. This rabbit would save us money.

“If we got a bunny, we could keep it in fat Libby’s (our dog’s) old crate,” she reasoned. “Anyway, the crate’s just rusting away in the garage, so we wouldn’t have to buy anything new - except the rabbit and some food.”

That is the usual selling point of everything w: buy: Once bought we are done paying. It never works out that way, though.

In the pet store my wife told me, “I tested all the bunnies like we did the dog. You know, make a little noise and see which one sneaks up to investigate. This brown one here looks like Murphy.”

This Murphy had milk chocolate fluff for fur and looked as if it had been somewhere it shouldn’t have, because the tips of its fur were a smoky, dirty gray.

“Why not get a traditional white bunny? They’re the kind that deliver the eggs -and the chocolates,” I suggested. The look in her eyes told me it was not a discussion. This was Murphy.

from A Father's Place, An Eclectic Collection
by Anthony Buccino