A BOY AND HIS DOG

Title by Harlan Ellison

Story by Peter Vuono

   In the 70's and 80's my favorite books were by Ray Bradbury. He was such an incredible story teller that after each story, I'd have to put the book down and just ponder the impact that he had such a knack at conveying .There was another favorite of mine, however who made the reader really work to find out what he was trying to say. This was Harlan Ellison who successfully sued James Cameron for borrowing the premise of Ellison's story "Soldier" for the Terminator.

   I read Ellison's "A Boy and His Dog" in 69. It's a very harsh read with a great deal of sex, violence and social decadence but every time I think about it I realize that Ellison had a message which is even more relevant now then in 69.

   It's a post apocalyptic tale of a teenage boy- Vic and his beloved dog "Blood". They spend their days only trying to eat and survive. They violently encounter a female protagonist- Quilla- who in time has feelings for Vic. Quilla, however was part of a ruse, to lure Vic underground to help populate a dying race of men who could not produce children.

   Vic knew, that Blood would not survive without him and he, Vic, would not survive without Blood. He makes the only

altruistic decision he's ever made and leaves with Blood. Quilla screams at him,"Don't you know what love is?". Vic answers, "Sure I know. A boy loves his dog".

  This graphic and hard to read tale has immense irony attached to it. The dog has been domesticated for 35,000 years going all the way back to the Pleistocene period under the Cro-Magnon Man! However, after all this time and an apocalypse, it is the dog, not the humans, that maintains the noble quality of loyalty and love. Here, in this one instance, Vic does what the dog would have always done. He would become as loyal as "Blood" was.

  Our age, here in the 21st century, is without an apocalypse but is rife with the horribleness of Ellison's story with a society rampant with violence, immorality, profanity, war and selfishness and yet, it is the dog, an alleged lower functioning animal, that maintains purity.

  Ellison's tale was a warning that is just as relevant now as it was in 69. I'm not a super idealist. I know that we can't all at once turn back many pages. However, didn't Confucius say that a thousand mile journey starts with one step?

  There as so many things we can do to insure that the savage society that Harlan Ellison predicted doesn't happen.

Instead of Tik-toc- read a book,

Encourage rather than discourage,

Praise rather than vilify,

Never pass up an opportunity to be kind,

Give the homeless guy a dollar,

Rather than sleeping in on Sunday, go to a house of worship,

Open the store door for a stranger,

Occasionally pay for the guy behind you at the doughnut shop,

Help the poor when you're able,

and vote for candidates that will protect mother earth.

   Harlan Ellison was a self proclaimed atheist. It is ironic that the work and thoughts of an atheist are,  at times,  just as important and meaningful a message as  that of some religious scholars.

If we heed his warning and try to slowly turn back the pages one at a time, the apocalypse he foretold will remain a parable and we will truly be on a path to redemption and salvation.

 LETTERS FROM BEHIND BARS

By Peter Vuono

   A long time ago, I befriended a fellow who was a much admired, world class athlete. He had been an Olympian and a Pan American Champion. He then gravitated to professional athleticism and made a more than decent salary. I met him in January and February of 1985. It was at the old Boston Garden. during our 2nd visit that I handed to him a copy of an article I wrote about him that was written in an Australian Magazine. He thanked me, shook my hand and it would be the last I would ever see of him.

   Some unfortunate and unforeseen circumstances would land him in prison for a two to three year sentence which would be extra hard as he had two young children. A few months after his incarceration, I received from him a very warm, heartfelt and uplifting letter of thanks. I didn't think too much of it then but now, decades later, as I look at the letter, I realized that it spoke volumes!

  One of the biggest persecutors of Christians was Saint Paul who actually witnessed the stoning murder of Saint Stephen. When he converted over to Christianity, he too was incarcerated and wrote all of his memorable letters of the New Testament from prison. I realized that my friend's letter was so much more than a letter of thanks.

   There can't be a more vile place to be in than a prison. Yet my friend took the time to thank me and uplift my spirits which are too often down from one of the worst places on earth. He had done on a smaller scale what Paul was doing and in doing it proved the credo of Saint Augustine which was, "Every sinner can be a saint and every saint was once a sinner."

   Perhaps not as important but still notable is that my friend, unlike so many of us actually wrote to me while his spirit was broken, his family vacant and  his safety in danger. What does this say about some of us who don't write letters or cards of thanks or only say a half- hearted or casual "Thanks"?

  If my friend, a former prisoner can show this kind of virtue, much in the same way that Paul did, it isn't just a personal letter; it's a message, for me, for you and for all that read this.

  

   

 WALKING IN THE SHOES OF THE CARPENTER

A TRIBUTE BY PETER VUONO

   I was married 45 years ago. One of my closest friends-an usher in my wedding party-Joe DiFalco recently passed from lung cancer although he never smoked a cigarette in his life. Joe was one of 7 children and whose 4 brothers were absolute masters of building, repairing and auto mechanics.

  If the Difalco brothers were one's friend then one would never want for assistance in any possible job. I honestly think that if I asked the DiFalco brothers to build a down scaled model of a Boeing 747, they could do it.  I had a home gym in my garage and I'd like to say that Joe and his brothers helped me build it. It was just the opposite; I helped THEM build my gym!

 Because he was a natural born laborer, Joe took on many jobs which required hard work. He, however, would never complain about work or conditions. The thrust of his life was to uphold his vows as a husband and father and work to make life livable for his loved ones.

  In the 80's Joe worked in a meat packing house with sweat shop conditions and a tyrannical boss.  Another powerlifting friend of mine worked there too who told me of the conditions. This fellow hated the environment so much that he actually got into fisticuffs with the boss. Joe, however, continued the course of working hard without complaint. He'd never take home the angst that his job would cause. He'd simply and patiently wait for a better opportunity and move on.

 This is why it's so ironic to me that Joe was named for one of the most loyal and hard working husbands and dads of all time; Saint Joseph. Joseph was the son of Jacob and 27 generations from King David. He'd be the foster father of Jesus and when word got out that Herod wanted Jesus killed, Joseph was warned in the middle of the night. He got up without complaint, put his wife and son on a burro and WALKED  40 miles to Egypt. 

  When Herod was dead, Joseph, once again was told to return to Israel and once again he'd put his wife and son on the burro and walk the 40 miles back to Israel without out any inkling of consternation. It's here that my friend Joe was so much like Saint Joseph. A hard working family man dedicated to the vows he made in keeping his family safe, fed and happy.

  Even when Joe was on his sick bed, I apologized to him about some of the rapscallions who trained with us in the gym HE built as they made training, at times annoying. Even then, Joe, like his namesake showed no disappointment just as he did his entire life.

  Joe is now gone but his character and spirit will always remain with me. When life gets tough and I start to complain I'll think of my dear friend who like no one else truly walked in the shoes of the carpenter.

 WE ALL HAVE A TALENT

By Peter Vuono

   Recently, I saw a an FB posting of a friend that's a stand up comedian. He said that he felt "intimidated" in front of more seasoned comedians who went on with him on the same bill. I too, had a similar experience about 25 years ago.

   My wife treated me to Penn and Teller in Boston. They were beyond sensational and immediately after the show closed, they both donned their winter coats and greeted and thanked every patron upon leaving. They exhibited, great talent, professionalism, humility and class. I went away happy until I next performed myself.

  Four days later I did a magic birthday party for some nice kids in Plainville. It was a small group who were very receptive. However, as I drove off I thought of Penn and Teller. I felt so small in comparison and sometimes I still do to this day. However, after my friend made his comment about his stand-up routine I thought about it intensely.

  I'll never be a Penn or Teller but that's not what's important. I believe that everyone has a talent and should do everything they can to exhibit it! With some it's cooking,

or sewing,

or chess,

or auto mechanics,

or martial arts,

or accounting,

or plumbing,

or music,

or helping and rescuing animals,

or any other multitude of skills. What IS important is that you and I have a talent of some sort and as long as we have it we should use it to make life more livable for friends, family and strangers. We are co-pilots working for God. Mother Teresa once said to, "Do little things with great love" and when I get that inferiority feeling about my time watching Penn and Teller, I think of what she said; AND SHE WAS RIGHT!

 WORKING MAN 

Story by Peter Vuono

   Each morning when I go downstairs to my dungeon-like workout area, I play a variety of metal songs One favorite of mine has the following refrain;

"I get up at 7 yeah, I go to work at nine.

I got no time for livin, yes, I'm, working all the time.

It seems to me I could live my life a lot better than I think I am.

that's why they call me; they call me the working man".

   Yes, the song gets me charged up but it also reminds me of the hard working life of an old friend and teacher who recently passed on at age 82- Mike Russell. Mike had a calm and kind demeanor and was very slow to anger. In addition to this he was one of the most admirable teachers I had ever met for two reasons; the first was his incredible work ethic.

   Mike was a full time Social Studies teacher. However ,because he and his beloved wife Marlene had the  objective of getting ALL their children through college, Mike had the distinction of working at more jobs than anyone I had ever met at Brockton High School.

   Mike was junior class advisor, senior class advisor, coach, and summer school teacher. As if this weren't enough, he would leave his summer school job at noon and work as the chief charge' overseeing the East Side Pool, which, at the time, had a reputation for servicing some difficult youngsters whose peccadilloes would easily ward off the hardiest of teachers. On weekends, he took copious photographs of all the football players and selflessly gave the photos away free to the players. There was, however, as I have stated another facet to Mike's life which has forever stayed with me since I heard it in the mid eighties; and that was his profound philosophy of education.

   It was the mid 80's in the azure teacher's lounge early on a week day morning with little if no AC. Some of the boys were lamenting our being there and how nice it would be if we got a better rate during the year. Like a sage from the past, Mike calmly enunciated, "Look, no one ever told us that we'd  make money in teaching. We're here for something else". Indeed we were. We were there for our families and just as importantly; we were there for the kids!

  Now, decades later when I privately go out into the summer heat to a client's home for home teaching, I try not to think of the hardship of it. Rather, I  think back to the 80's to Mike's profound philosophy.

  None of us humans can even guess as to what is said to a deceased person by the Lord. I should think that in Mike's case there are two distinct possibilities;

  The first is "Well done, good and noble servant" and personally I like to think he may hear, 

"I get home at 5 O'clock and I take myself out a nice cold beer.

Always seem to be won'drin why  there's nothin going down here.

It's seems to me I could live my life

a lot batter than I think I am, 

that's why they call me; they call me the working man".

Be assured, he's living a rewarding life now.

SPECIAL NOTE: Title and lyrics were written by Neil Peart.

  

  

 ALLIE'S MESSAGE

By Peter Vuono

   Depicted here is my friend Allie. In the past, she was pretty active doing almost 50 magic shows a year and entertaining hundreds of kids. For the past 6 years, she's been on a very well deserved retirement. Allie is 27 years old and has NEVER been to the Vet! One would wonder as to why. Allie has a remarkable genetic blueprint from her ancestors

   Allie is a descendant(as are many birds) from a family of dinosaurs called Dromaeosaurs

. It is this family that contained all raptors  and similar claw footed predators . Sixty-five million years ago the world was in dire straits with multiple volcanic eruptions, shallow seas drying up and an asteroid which would land in the Yucatan Peninsula.

   The Dromeosaurs learned to adapt and evolve. They actually grew wings and acquired feathers so that they could fly to a safer destination to survive and allow nature to take it's course in evolution. I then wondered as to what we humans can do in a world that is rife with ecological, political and sociological degradation. Then it came to me; we can pray!

   In 1350 BC the Pharaoh Ikhnaton became monotheistic. One hundred years later, Moses would come to honor Adonai and save his people. NOW, most religions are monotheistic and we can all talk to the same God but in just different languages.

  It doesn't matter if we are Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Shinto or even Zoroastrian! We sure don't have Allie's remarkable ancestry to help us survive but her message is strong and we may have something better. We can pray!

    

 ISAIAH 40:29

By Peter Vuono

   When I was a young boy I always, like many boys, wanted to be strong. I was inspired by wrestlers, bodybuilders, powerlifters, muscle men of the movies and my two cousins Ronnie and David who were Mastodons!

   I then embarked in powerlifting in 1967 and finished 2nd to last in my first meet in Nashua in Jan. of 1973. As time went on I achieved modest success but as the wights got heavier, so too, did injuries. On 3 different occasions, I ruptured both bicep tendons and herniated the L5 lumbar. However I never had surgery and in 85 after a hiatus from my broken back I pulled a 575 deadlift. I marveled how lucky I was but it got worse as I aged.

   After I retired from the school department I, at age, 59 had a heart attack and quadruple bypass. However I spent only 8 days in the hospital and was lifting weights two weeks later! Two years later, events fell into place that bordered on the miraculous. I completed my Black Belt training and humbly received the degree after 10 full years of training. In 2014, I pulled a 400 deadlift, again only two years after surgery, for an Elite Powerlifting Federation American record. However, more calamity struck. In the years that followed I had skin cancer surgery, cubital tunnel surgery, carpal tunnel surgery and lastly, in 2021, a knee replacement. It was then that more miracles occurred and I began to wonder.

 I walked the day after surgery on my knee without a cane or walker. On day 4 after surgery, I drove the car. I then decided to get back into powerlifting and on December 10, 2023, I at age 70, broke a world deadlift record for the Revolution Powerlifting Syndicate. Spurred on by the success, I unwisely went into another meet just six months later in Yarmouth Port. After missing my 1st attempt, I made it and then succeeded in breaking my own world record in the deadlift. I was filled with emotion.

  I fell into my wife's arms crying like a baby when I had the epiphany of why things went so positively. No, it wasn't the 7 days a of week training.

It wasn't the 3 days a week of cardio,

It wasn't the protein shakes or the vitamins.

It wasn't my own determination or tenacity

It wasn't just plain luck!

It WAS my decades long devotion to the Rosary which saved me.

It was God's accomplishment and not mine!.

Saint Padre Pio calls the Rosary the "Weapon of the age" but you can petition to the Lord in your own way!

It doesn't matter if you do it as a Muslim or a Buddhist, or  a Hindu, a Jew, a Christian or a Catholic so long as you petition the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. THAT is the true solution to the mystery of life. This is certainly NOT written as a statement of braggadocio but one of testimony! As Pope John Paul once said, "This is no time to keep the gospels secret but to preach them from the housetops."

   The Prophet Isaiah lived in the 8th century but his words are just as true now as the were thousands of years ago "The Lord gives comfort to the weary and strengthens the weak".