Thanks and Giving!

So what are you thankful for on this Thankgiving holiday? Family? Friends? Health? Success? Love? Perhaps all of the above and then some. Maybe you're thankful that things in life are simply better than they could be.

People in places near and far are starving, struggling, desperate, in constant fear and danger,

felling horribly hopeless, some even on the verge of a painful death. I mention these things not to depress but to remind. We are fortunate in countless ways we do not even realize.

Make sure you take a few minutes to quietly reflect upon all the good things you have in your life. Whether you thank your God, the stars, fate, whatever, just be sure to remember that this day is a day for more than eating a big meal. It's a day to be grateful and smile in appreciation. Give thanks heartily and remember one more thing. Think about those less fortunate than yourself and how the holiday season of giving that begins with Thanksgiving reminds us to open our hearts, our hands, our wallets and our minds. Thanks and giving. That's what it's all about!

© 2009 Paul Caracciolo. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.

Older, Wiser?

In the last few weeks, I have celebrated the the 90th birthday of my father, the 50th birthday of my sister, and several milestone birthdays for friends (40, 50, 60). These were truly wonderful, touching and joyous events for very special people in my life. I celebrated with them and had a blast but I have to say they got me thinking about things.

How can attending such events not make one think about the way they've spent their life? It seems that no matter what we do in life we will always have regrets, disappointments, sorrow, and loss. I also know that we can never be completely satisfied and content with what we've done in life regardless of how well we've lived it and what we've accomplished. Human nature seems to dictate that longing for more and better and different is an innate part of our make-up. Realizing the distance from where we would ideally like to be tends to make us strive to be better people, to work harder, to remedy those less-than-perfect relationships. The saying goes, " the older we get, the wiser we get." I suppose it's true. Our life experiences increase dramatically with each pasing year and we cannot help but learn from these experiences.

No one really knows why we have been put on this Earth. Some rely on faith to explain it but faith is just that, faith. It asks us to trust in the intangible, grasp what cannot be held. The solid, tangible, absolute, irrefutable reason we are here may never be revealed although many of us hope it will be when our lives end. Until then we make due with what we know and what we know is the sum total of everything and everyone one we've encountered, the resultant interactions with them and our impressions of these events.

A brief story:

A child is born, grows up in poverty, hungry most of his young life. Avoiding disease and mayhem is a constant battle in his world. By some miracle, he makes it to adulthood. He scrapes together enough money to extract himself from his dire circumstances. He manages to make it out of this dismal environment and moves to a distant place where he makes a financial success of his life, finds a companion and lives comfortably. He eventually grows old, falls ill and on his death bed is asked, do you have any regrets?

He thinks a long time and replies, "I have several regrets: I regret being born where I was born but I had no choice about that and I learned to adapt. I wish I didn't have to do the things I did to get out of there but what else was I to do? It was a hard-scrabble life and I escaped it with my body intact. I regret the deception that got me here in the first place but if I had been honest about my origins I would have never made it here. I regret making money from other people's weaknesses but it was what I was good at from an early age and I am very accomplished at what I do. I regret deceiving my companion of all these years in thinking I was a different person than who I am but fortunately they will never know all that exists inside my head and they are the happier for it. Finally I regret not using the knowledge I possessed to make the world an even better place. "

Did this man become a hustler, a drug dealer, a preacher or a politician? I suppose he could be any of these things or any of us. Don't you think? His resourcefulness and tenacity led him to his final station in life and he learned his path through experience. The knowledge is inside of us all. We cannot help ourselves but to learn. It's up to us what we do with it and how we live our lives. Older and wiser, for better or for worse?

© 2009 Paul Caracciolo. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.

The Journey Home

Fate shone. I badly needed to get away and there it was, a business trip to New York City. It had been a rougher few weeks capping a rough couple of years. Family, money, relationships. Neverending and on and on. The details are tedious but suffice it to say the train to New York was a welcome relief, a blessing really. Board that sucker and never look back! Like a whisper in my ears, "You can never go home again". Maybe I never would.

It was the day after Labor Day and the train platform was packed. Some were returning from summer's wane, some heading back to the work-a-day grind. For all of them it was a journey back to a colder place but today the sky was a brilliant azure, cloudless and perfect. Warm still, dry and calm.

I absolutely craved the trip in front of me. Couldn't wait to sit by the window and go. Boarding is called and I make my way through the lineup. Although my ticket is scanned, security is non-existent as usual but at least the crowd moves quickly. I snag a forward facing window seat in coach and consider myself lucky. Remarkably, although announced as a full train, the seat beside me remains open. I close my eyes and drift off.

My mind is instantly filled with concern, worry. It grows. The darkness behind my eyelids engulfs my brain. I sink under the weight. But this particular ride is not all tunnels and I know deep in my soul there is only one thing I need do. Recurrent thoughts of escape prevail as they always do. I open my eyes. The sky is as blue as I've ever seen it. Then, a voice:

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?"

The train had been moving for at least forty-five minutes and now all of a sudden this guy shows up. I surmise that he must have been wandering the entire train all this time looking for what may well be the only remaining open seat. Or perhaps he was seated next to some nut case and was inevitably forced to move. Either way, he looked clean and sane so I took pity on him and gestured to the seat.

"Please take it," I said.

"Thanks so much."

"No worries."

Now I normally do not like to involve myself in small talk conversation with strangers but something in his polite demeanor hit me a certain way.

"New York for business?" I ask. His suit and briefcase a dead giveaway.

"Actually returning. I'm from there."

"Very cool. I love the city," my enthusiasm obvious. "It's a great escape for me every time I go. This trip is for work but I'm thinking of staying."

He smiles broadly, "New York City bound!"

His manner is gentle and friendly. He has a kind face with soft features and short dark hair. The eyes are even darker. Deep set eyes. Windows to the soul. His appear careworn like someone who has seen some serious things in his life. Yet he seems sturdily built, not frail or rundown. I am thinking maybe ex-military or perhaps built for battles in the boardroom. Strong for whatever the war and perhaps a bit weary, but ultimately resigned to his calm disposition.

I guess we've all seem some things, I think to myself.

"Paul C. here. My last name is too difficult to pronounce or remember," and I offer my hand.

A strong shake back as expected, "Aaron. Aaron Adam here."

"Nice meeting you Aaron Adams."

"No it's Adam," he corrects. "There is no s. But actually my nickname is Z, like the letter Z. Call me Z."

"Z, huh? Interesting nickname. How'd you come by that?"

"I actually came up with it myself. It was an act of defiance. I was always called on first in school, front of the line. Forever alert, on top of things. That gets old fast. So I made myself last, Z. Like someone who is sleeping, you know?"

"Ha! Good for you!"

We laugh and chat on about things, the usual stuff, the weather, work, a great old restaurant in the East Village. At a lull in our conversation he asks, "So what about family, Paul?"

I wince and he laughs nervously.

"Ah, gotcha. Sorry man. Listen, I ought to know better."

"Hey no. Don't worry about it," I reply half-convincingly. "Things are just tough right now. Trying to get away from it, forget about it a while. You know?"

"I do. Trust me. It's probably just that I miss my family," a melancholic touch to his voice.

"Well then, at least you're going home to see them, right?"

A pause then, "Not so much. It's a long story. Suffice to say, that's a big no."

"Hey Z, now I am sorry!"

"Oh, don't be. Please. In pace requiescat."


I may not be particularly well-versed in Latin but I knew what that meant and I knew to leave it be. Rest in peace. Now I was certain he had seen things.

"You can never go home again," I offered softly, my life's mantra.

He laughed more heartily than I expected, "Indeed. Indeed."

As the train arrived at Penn Station Z and I agreed to meet that night for a drink at his favorite bar downtown in the financial district. I scrawled down the name and address. Before he walked away he told me if I were really serious about escaping to NYC that I should first check out where he lived. The building was decent, relatively affordable and had some recent vacancies. I jotted down the info.

"Come by some time and see for yourself. Maybe it was meant to be," he said with a wink and a pat on my back.

"See you later," I said as he walked away and waved.

A funny thing about New York City is that in so vast and populous a place a positive connection with just one person can seem so profound. It really was a gorgeous day!

That evening as I headed downtown in the cab I rolled down the window as we sped towards our destination. The air was a bit cooler now. You cannot keep autumn off for long. The cab slowed, the driver searching for the address.

"Exactly where did you want to go?" he asked me.

When I told him the bar's name, he turned to me puzzled as he stepped on the brake.

"Um, sir that bar is gone since, you know, nine-eleven."

Shocked, I sat there a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Oh certain sir, sorry. I mean you can look around if you like but I tell you it's gone. "

"No, no. I believe you. Just take me to this address please."

And I told the cabbie to deliver me to Z's building. Unsure whether it was an honest mistake or some sick joke, I needed to see Z, to ask him what the hell was going on!

Fortunately I remembered his apartment number, 1A. He joked about it. "Still first in line, " he said.

I pay the driver, jump out of the cab and bound up the stairs. No name on the buzzer. I ring. A few moments pass then a young woman's voice, "Hello?"

"Ah yes, is Aaron in? Aaron Adam? Z?"

"Um, no mister. I think you have the wrong information."

"So he doesn't live here? Damn!" I am getting exasperated now.

"Sir, I'm sorry but I think maybe you're looking for the man who lived here before me. I'm not exactly sure of his name but it could be the name you mentioned. It's been a while."

"Oh you've got to be kidding! You mean he moved?! He doesn't live here?!"

A long pause, a cleared throat, "Um sir, he's um, he's gone. Nine-eleven."

Now my brain throbbed and my heart beat so loudly I thought she could hear.


"Oh, okay thanks," I muttered as I staggered away.

The streetlights were burning like fallen stars, hovering in place all around my reeling head then stretching to infinity and beyond. Along the darkened avenue each car and tree and trash can glowed and sparkled from the light but the surface of the street was complete blackness. My feet moved me forward though my body felt outrageously heavy.

That very night I boarded the next train back to Boston, express. And I never looked back.

Dedicated to the memory of Myra Aronson. 

© 2009 Paul Caracciolo. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.

Why We Need to Remember.

I recently read an article called "Never Forget" written by Michael Paterniti and appearing in the August 2009 issue of GQ magazine on the Khmer Rouge's relentless destruction of the Cambodian people and culture for four years in the 1970's. The story painted a blood red portrait of the human capacity for evil. Two million Cambodians were murdered or 1/4 the population of this nation at the time.

The story goes on to describe the ruthlessness of the the leaders of this movement upon their fellow citizens while trying to establish a revolutionary new society based upon certain Communist precepts they had learned while in school in Paris. In reality they put forth and forced forward an unwavering and grim nihilism. They abolished money, holidays, villages, the Buddhist religion, time and history and even more inhumanely love and family! And they killed lustily to support their ideals, if one can use such a word to describe their beliefs. People were killed for wearing glasses, being college educated. Doctors, lawyers, monks, and factory workers were killed. Lots and lots of men were murdered, many women, and far too many children.

The areas where some of the most brutal atrocities were committed were called the Killing Fields on which the movie of the same name was based. I recall gasping audibly in horror at each new description of the ways they killed. Just one to demonstrate my point and please forgive me but I feel this best portrays the horror. This is taken directly from the GQ article. "If someone required killing it was common practice to kill their children. If a parent died of starvation or disease, the children might also be killed. At the Killing Fields, babies were held by their feet and smashed against a designated tree, the Baby-Smashing Tree."

I knew this article would be difficult reading but I felt compelled to complete it and be made aware of every detail. I wanted to attempt to comprehend why and how human beings would commit such heinous acts of violence upon one another. It seems there are always justifications in the minds of those weilding the power. Religion, nationalism, racism. The Khmer Rouge used social reform as their murderous ideology. Apparently at certain times in history these factors come to infect the generally rational human mind and lead it to a deplorable and irrational conclusion. The Holocaust, the genocides in Rwanda and Croatia, the Khmer Rouge to name but a few. Mankind seems destined to repeat itself in these nightmare scenarios with a sickening regularity. Our history is stained with the blood and gore.

The Khmer Rouge article began with a collage of the photos of some of the victims of this particular horror snapped when they were first admitted to the death camps, but before they were subjected to its horrors. Tense, hollow, frightened faces, mostly male, many of them just young boys stared out from the page. Peering into the eyes of a most certain death, their stunned gazes brought the entire somber gravitas of the their dread reality into stark relief. To turn away would have been cruel, to not read their story seemed incomprehensible.

As living, breathing, feeling humans we must be informed about such things as the Khmer Rouge's reign of terror in Cambodia. The old saying is "knowledge is power". As members of the same human race that committed these acts, we must be made aware of our capacity for this type of savagery. The assumption that the intrinsic value of human life is both obvious and shared is incredibly naive. When we see violence played out daily all over the world, what do we do? We shrug. When we see it on tv, movies, the internet what do we do? We watch, sometimes thrilled, sometimes frightened, but usually we gloss it over and move on. When we learn about the Khmer Rouge or the Holocaust, what do we do? We shake our heads, we are disgusted, we may even cry but we move on. But do we learn??? And the answer to that question reveals what truly dwells inside of us.

Knowing and accepting our past, our history, however horrific at times is essential to bettering the human condition in the future. Failure to do so exposes us to culpability in the next Khmer Rouge however far removed we may think we are. We need to first learn about our mistakes and flaws in order to guard against them. We can start by respecting others, all others! We should respect their differences, their beliefs however divergent from ours. We should also always stand strong in the protection of those who have been infringed upon, scapegoated and exploited. Ultimately, we need to respect the dignity and value of all people as human beings. If and when the next alignment of destructive elements conspires against humanity, we shrug, we gloss it over, we walk walk away, then we also encourage, abet and conspire. If we ourselves don't die in reality, then we die inside and where is the value in that?

Please consider joining or donating to a group like Amnesty International http://www.amnesty.org/. Thanks for reading.

© 2009 Paul Caracciolo. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.

The Underground

I remember the beats more than anything else. Dark, tribal, intense. Wall-shaking bass, kick drum machine gunning, hi-hat cymbals crashing. Through the air in a torrent of beautiful cacophony while the strobes flashed around the silhouettes of others like yourself, night creatures inhabiting a realm of shade.

Frolicking in the shadows and out. Going down the Tunnel, off to the Playground, surrounded by the magic mushrooms' reverb in Twilo. Ah, you know what I'm talkin' about, don't you? Ecstatic moments with strangers who become your friends with the blink of a gobo. The bliss of a union blessed by the nation of house.

I often imagined everyone, black, white, Asian, Latin, man, woman, gay, straight, old and young dancing around a massive bonfire under a perfect ebon night, shooting stars lighting the skies. Dancing through an endless evening. And the beat goes on. Dark, tribal, intense. Can you feel it?

Where has it gone? Lost by a world too rushed and worried to notice the loss of something special. The mainstream water washing it away, the magical interplay, the underground. The soulless seriousness of everyday, turning it to ashen grey. Gone but not forgotten. Over your head but under your feet, it resides inside you, stays beside you. Dark, tribal, intense. The underground baby, yeah the underground!

© 2009 Paul Caracciolo. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.

Supremely Redundant

Judge Sonia Sotomayor's confirmation hearings seem to have confirmed one very blatant reality in our currently flawed political system, partisan behavior is as bad if not worse than ever. While the GOP is of course frightened by the realization that a Latina woman might have a say in the most important judicial decisions of our time and rightfully so, they are for the most part old white men, they cannot come out and say that their opposition is largely based upon their own prejudices. This would not become the party of Lincoln ( I know, Abe is turning in his grave and has been for decades now). Instead they mask their fury as disgust for this woman's remarks about latina women and white male judges because she must obviously think she is better than said white male judges and white men in general, and they cannot stand an effront to the white male power structure that gave them their dominance in the legislative and judicial branches of our government for lo these many years. Let's tell it like it is good old boys of the GOP, you cannot stand this uppity latina questioning your hierarchy. Guess, what? She's right. A latina woman's experiences will influence her and make her judge things in a certain way, just as you and your cronies have done with our laws for many many years. I am not saying she should go in lock, stock and barrel and rage against the white man but a little variation in the thought process of our highest court is only a healthy thing if we are to survive in the uncertian future. Our country is more diverse than ever. It is high time our government started to reflect that in a real tangible meaningful way.

This behavior is all so mundanely predictable and it is not all about deep seeded prejudice. In American politics today the opposition feels the need to puff up and be contrarian to the nth degree because I suspect it has become their only strategy. It has become the norm. Our society is a bit lazy if you haven't noticed and it goes all the way up to the top, our leaders. Why strike a conciliatory tone in matters of massive importance of which the appointing of a Supreme Court justice is merely a drop in the bucket? Partisan politics is simply rote behavior by lazy uninspired pessimistic people in cold difficult times when we need more from those who lead us. We need compromise, hard work, effort and forward progress. I don't know about you but I heard an awful lot of non-partisan promising being bandied about just before I cast my vote in the last election. I suppose it was naive to think it would finally be attempted when the easy way is to continue butting heads while the excrement hits the fan.

Judge Sonia Sotomayor's confirmation hearings continue our now well crafted tradition of partisan politics. This time the Republicans brandished their opposition with the now requisite pride. They aren't the only ones and take that as a hint Democrats. You play the partisan game too although probably not nearly as well. I think you tend to catch your reflections in the mirror sometimes and your conscience gives you a little kick in the gut. That being said, the partisan game is a non-partisan disease. It is bad for the mind and the soul and the heart of our country.
Yet again this was blatantly played out in the Sotomayor hearings. It is all so supremely redundant, don't you think?

© 2009 Paul Caracciolo. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.

A beginning of the Musings

My first blog post and hopefully not my last. It has been quite some time since I have written something for a purpose beyond the strictly utilitarian. I used to write poetry, keep a journal, and even took a stab at writing fiction. I have always had the writing bug but lately a career dealing with numbers all day long has stifled that little critter and I find myself years removed from it. Lately however I have been feeling the desire creep up inside again. The bug lives!



While blogging seems to fulfill many purposes for many people, I think I want my blog to be a way to express my thoughtful side as opposed to demonstrating my proficiency with the mathematical. Math is neat, exact, precise but I am afraid the world we live in does not neatly fall within such parameters. I feel the times call for us all to share our thinking with one another to try and make the world at first more bearable and then perhaps a better place. Collective efforts to deal with the "down and dirty" aspects of our world while aspiring to move to a better place even if it is just within our hearts and heads. I cannot say I will always be optimistic or upbeat but I will vow to never be insufferably negative or utterly devoid of faith in mankind.


I want to challenge myself, my friends, family and even interested strangers to share thoughts, ideas and feelings on things of tremendous import but also on things of a much meaker reality as well. I think the blog will take shape as time goes on, changing, growing. My purpose is to make it a dynamic organism developing every moment into something new while always influenced and firmly based upon that which has come before it. Sort of like us.



Musings from the Ether. I thought it was appropriate. Musings being thoughts or meditations but also conjuring up those mythological Muses that inspired the creation of art and literature. The ether to me being both quintessence or the fifth and highest element after air and earth and fire and water that was believed to be the substance composing all heavenly bodies (from http://wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn?s=ether) but also on a less profound level merely the air all around us. Musings from the Ether, magical or base, complex or simplistic, vast or singular.



Before I end my first posting I want to thank a few appropriate Muses from my life to both share with my readers and give them their due. I would not be who I am without them.



My mother. Always looking down on me from above. Her influence on every single event of my life and upon every little aspect of my humanity has made me who I am.



My favorite author as a child, Edgar Allan Poe. A little awkward boy with a definite dark side and a desire to write found exactly what he was looking for in this brilliant, tormented, macabre man.



Anthony. The person who has taught me more than anyone that it is okay to be happy in life. Appropriately, my first post is on his birthday and I am thrilled! Thanks for encouraging me! Il mio amore!

© 2009 Paul Caracciolo. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.