Here's a Bright Idea: Visit a National Park

140 years ago today -- Jan. 27, 1880 -- Thomas Edison's received his patent for the light bulb.

I learned this fact on Saturday on a visit with some photography friends to the National Park Service's site in West Orange, NJ.

This is one of my favorites of all the national parks in New Jersey. Like the Great Falls in Paterson, the Thomas Edison National Historical Park is close to home... and very photogenic.

You can take a virtual tour using the National Park Service's great online resources, including this picture guide. 

To me, our national parks always manage to provide enlightening perspectives. I mean, you'd think light bulbs would older than 140, considering all the advancements since, right?

Here's a short slideshow with some of my images from this weekend:

I hope this encourages you to visit and take in some history. The rangers there are friendly and helpful.

And photos, including selfies with life-sized Edison cutouts, are welcome (provided you don't use flash).

This is in contrast to the now-closed J.D. Salinger exhibit I recently visited at the New York Public Library, where all photography was prohibited.

I suppose, though, that was on-brand for Salinger, who provided his own enlightening perspectives in his own way... and who, alas, died 10 years ago today, 130 years after the invention of the light bulb.

Fighting to Save Endangered Historic Sites

Photo: David Woeller

You and I will never again have the chance to see, in real life, one of the New Jersey's most iconic sites -- the rustic A.M.E. church in Bivalve (on the state's southern shore).

This David Woeller photo is reprinted with permission from a 2014 story in The Press of Atlantic City, one of several news items in recent years about art or photography exhibits that have included images of the church.

This building was demolished this past week.

Here's an Instagram post by @tinychurchesnj with links to several photos and detailed comments about this sad news.

View this post on Instagram

The #Bivalve AME Church was lost this weekend. We have contacted the news but haven’t seen any coverage yet besides these posts from Facebook. The property was owned by Bivalve Packing Co and we are told they had plans to restore the church. The last we saw was over the summer when we shared a photo of the old roof ripped off with a post that said it would be replaced. Apparently it never was. The rain poured in for half a year until the structure was so deteriorated it got torn down. We don’t know why Bivalve Packing didn’t finish the restoration. Why the destruction was sped up by the removal of the roof or the demolition by bulldozer, we also don’t know. We only wish we knew about it before it was too late. This is a major loss to the black history of South Jersey. #thisplacematters #demolitionbyneglect #demolitionisnottheanswer #historicpreservation #historicpreservationmatters #someplacenotanyplace #blackhistorymonth #blackhistory #southjersey #portnorris #commercialtownship #mauriceriver #cumberlandcounty

A post shared by Historic NJ Churches (@tinychurchesnj) on Jan 14, 2020 at 5:13pm PST

There are so many evocative photos of this church. Here's photographer Francesca Frank posting this week on Facebook:



The loss of any church is a loss to New Jersey, but this one is particularly sad.

I post photos of churches from around the state every Sunday at @foundinnj, and several of the sites I've visited are currently for sale (the New Jersey Jesus Baptist Church in Garfield and the Alpine Community Church).

When I heard that the Friends of Waterloo Village had disbanded at year-end 2019, I feared for the United Methodist Church there too. But then I was happy to learn that this church is not only still holding services every Sunday morning at 10, it is also sponsoring Feed Fest 2020 on Sunday, Feb. 9 -- a family-friendly party to help feed those in need.

---------

I was also happy to learn this week about "Saved or Lost Forever," a documentary by Preservation New Jersey, scheduled to premiere at a March 4 fund-raiser at Newark Symphony Hall.

Below is a video preview (with event information here):




As a recent story in The Record notes, one of the sites mentioned in this video -- Camden High School's "Castle on the Hill" -- has already been leveled.

Another story in The Record describes how protections for Liberty State Park have failed amid a billionaire's push to expand a golf course into the wetlands.

These too were/are sacred places. They deserve to be cherished and protected.

I am grateful to Perservation New Jersey for their good work, and to all the photographers, artists and neighbors who capture and preserve the beauty and history of our home.

And yet I am horrified by this last photo of the A.M.E church in Bivalve...

Photo: @tkportnorris on Instagram

---------

Here's a hopeful postscript to this post, based on a 1/22/20 article in The Record:

View this post on Instagram

Good news. According to a story in northjersey.com today: “The historic Alpine Community Church has been sold, not to a developer, as residents and history buffs feared, but to a Rockland County, NY, congregation. The 149-year-old stone church on Closter Dock Road was sold for $2.1 million on Dec. 6 after being on the market for more than a year... This brings resolution to years of uncertainty for the #landmark.” #njhistory #njchurcheverysunday ⛪️ #church

A post shared by Found in NJ (@foundinnj) on Jan 22, 2020 at 6:47am PST

Epiphany in Paterson, 2020 Update

Last year, I posted here about a visit to a small church in Paterson, NJ, on Epiphany Sunday.

I returned there today, and posted an update on Instagram (see below).

Spoiler alert: there’s a happy and hopeful ending.

View this post on Instagram

This is the altar at St. Bonaventure’s in Paterson, appropriately aglow on the Festival of Lights, #Epiphany Sunday. Today I took Mom there to hear the Chopin Society Male Choir on its 25th annual visit to sing #Polish Christmas carols during Mass. Mom happily sang along. She will be 88 later this month, and grew up in a Polish-speaking household in Garfield NJ. It was a morning of light and nostalgia and hope for the future. The pastor happily announced that this past Friday he had received word from the Franciscan Friars of the Holy Name Province that the parish would not be closing its doors. The friars, dwindling in numbers, are lately forced to give up some ministries. St. Bonaventure’s has served #Paterson since 1878. Fr. Daniel said that in 2020 the parish would redouble its efforts in the community, particularly in serving the poor. I wrote about my visit here last year too. You can read that at the temporary link in my Instagram bio. #njchurcheverysunday ⛪️

A post shared by Found in NJ (@foundinnj) on Jan 5, 2020 at 2:33pm PST

Veterans Day in My Hometown

My hometown -- New Milford, NJ --  held its annual Veterans Day observance on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of the year this morning:

- Mayor Mike Putrino read a proclamation and joined local veterans in placing memorial wreaths on the monument in front of Borough Hall.

- The New Milford High School Ensemble sang the national anthem, "America the Beautiful" and "God Bless America," and a young bugler played taps.

- The Police Department stopped traffic in a moment of silence and, just down the road at the historic French cemetery, a work crew from Master Locaters ("Because What's Underneath Matters") briefly suspended their efforts.

The day also included a nod to the Bermuda Triangle and the use of a ground-penetrating radar device.

First, about the Bermuda Triangle:

The borough's memorial monument lists the names of more than two dozen residents who died in service to our country in conflicts since the Civil War. These same names also appear on street signs throughout the borough. The story of each man's life is shared in a slide show, which can be viewed at the borough's website: "The Stories Behind the Stars."

Recently, my friends at the New Milford Historic Preservation Commission found one more story to tell. It's about Navy Lt. Cmdr. Paul Thomas Smyth. Here, with permission from the Commission, is the story of his disappearance after piloting a plane over the Bermuda Triangle in February 1978:

Born in Brooklyn, Smyth grew up in New Milford and enlisted in the Navy following graduation from college. He served in Vietnam, earning the Distinguished Flying Cross for a successful attack on a missile site in North Vietnam. He was also the recipient of the Air Medal, Navy Commendation Medal with Combat “V,” and the Meritorious Unit Commendation Ribbon. He had been selected for promotion to lieutenant commander.

On Feb. 22, 1978, Smyth, 31, and his navigator, Lt. Richard W. Leonard, were flying a KA6 attack bomber from the Naval Air Station at Oceana, Va., to the aircraft carrier John F. Kennedy, stationed about 100 miles offshore. The weather that day was overcast, with strong winds and high seas. According to his mother, Marjorie, his last words were, “Wait a minute. We have a problem.” The plane then lost radar and radio contact. A search of the area failed to find any trace of the plane or its occupants.

Smyth's plane went missing near the infamous “Bermuda Triangle,” a 1.5 million-square-mile area extending from Bermuda to Puerto Rico to Norfolk, Va.; however, neither the Navy nor the family attributed the disappearance to a curse.

Now, about the ground-penetrating radar:

The Historic Commission recently authorized specialists at Master Locators to scan the French burial grounds next to Borough Hall.

The town knows of at least 175 people buried there, but there aren't anywhere near that many gravestones or markers at the site. The scanning device being used today will help develop a map of actual burial locations.

Maybe someday we will even find an answer to the local mystery of what happened to the body of Bertha Reetz.

Until then, here's a link to the original Facebook post about Lt. Cmdr. Paul Smyth from the New Milford Historic Preservation Commission:

Related story: "The Mystery of Bertha Reetz"

The Day My Ancestors Took My Breath Away

On a chilly weekday in October, I set off to find my grandmother's grave.

Before his death nearly 14 years ago, Dad used to visit Calvary Cemetery quite often. Mom casually mentioned this the other day, but said she herself didn't know the exact location.

"Nonna" had died on the eve of her 100th birthday, in January 2001, when the ground was frozen. The gravesite services for Rachel Mairani Varettoni that Mom, Dad and I attended more than 18 years ago had been held in the cemetery chapel.

Setting off alone to find the grave in 2019, I drove to the modest cemetery office. It seemed deserted when I arrived, with no cars in the small parking lot.

I walked into an empty room, and a kind woman emerged from nowhere. Informing her of the date of Nonna's death, she drew a tall leather-bound book from a shelf, and carefully opened the pages where, chronologically by date of interment, the location of each gravesite had been recorded in flourished script.

She handed me a map, marking "Section 8 Lot 120B," noting that it was in the oldest part of the cemetery.

I was soon standing in front of the Mairani/Varettoni gravestone, marked: Angelo (1872-1944), Julian B. (1896-1976), Rachel (1901-2001), Rosa (1872-1969).

My ancestors took my breath away. "It's all of you," I exclaimed, bursting into tears. I lost my balance and had to steady myself on the stone. "It's all of you," I kept repeating. "It's all of you!"

Not only was Nonna in the ground at my feet, but also Nonno (my grandfather) and Bisnonna (my great-grandmother) and my great-grandfather who died years before I was born.

I loved... still love... my grandfather very much, and I had not expected to find him here. Nonno was my hero when I was a boy -- a grandfather who delighted in what would now be called dad jokes... and riddles and number puzzles.

---------

Bisnonna, Nonno, Nonna and me -- many years ago.

This is where my story takes a macabre turn.

With attention on the gravestone's inscriptions, my mind began to race.

It had never before occurred to me that Uncle Ange was named after his father. My great-grandfather had named his firstborn son after him, just has my grandfather had done, and just as my father had done.

I also never appreciated that my great-grandmother had died soon after a memorable family visit to see her the day after Neil Armstrong had walked on the moon.

My pulse quickened further as I noticed connections in the dates.

The roundness of the numbers: Nonno, 5 years older than Nonna, dying in his 80th year; Nonna dying in her 100th.

The coincidences: both Angelo and Rosa born in the same year.

The stories: both Rosa and Rachel had outlived their husbands by exactly 25 years.

With tears in my eyes, I talked to them all for a while. I was alone in a graveyard near Route 80 in Paterson, NJ, and no one noticed or cared.

My shadow, next my ancestors' grave.

When it was time to leave, I was unfamiliar with how to navigate the local streets to get back on 80. I opened the Waze app on my iPhone and hit "Home." I drove toward River Road, but Waze directed me past what I thought might be the way to the onramp.

Pulling over, I found myself in the middle of a residential neighborhood in Elmwood Park (which would have been called East Paterson when Nonno and Nonna lived nearby). I had to chuckle. Mom, my sister and I had recently visited this same neighborhood to see the house my parents rented when I was a baby.

But, oddly, Waze was not directing me to that rental house on Kipp Avenue. Instead, it was directing me to an address on Palsa Avenue, a few blocks away.

With trepidation, I drove to the address Waze had specified. It was just a suburban house. No drama. Seemingly nothing there for me to see.

Then I noticed that the house number didn't match the address Waze displayed. The house number on Palsa Avenue was a simple three-digit number. The Waze address was this: 16-54.

Just like a gravestone inscription.

---------

When I told this story to my wife, I mentioned that I could do a calculation on the Waze address that led to a chilling conclusion.

"I may have only 7 years to live," I said.

"Don't say that! Don't even think that!" she protested. "That's absurd."

"OK," I replied, "but there's another way to calculate those numbers, and it would mean that I've already been dead for 25 years."

"So I'm talking to a ghost?" she replied.

"Yes, and just think, what would that mean for you?"

My wife rolled her eyes (the way my grandmother often did in reaction to her husband), playfully hit me on the shoulder to see if I was for real, and turned away with an exacerbated breath.

Just like someone who had another 32 years to live.

Hope Springs Eternal at the End of the Season

Images from Citi Field, 2019

Tonight the Major League Baseball playoffs begin. Once again, without the New York Mets.

Oddly, I'm not saddened by this. Just hopeful.

I'm with Dominic Smith.

On Sunday, taking his first swing after returning from a two-month injury, he hit a walk-off three-run home run in the bottom of the 11th. It was the Mets' last game at Citi Field in 2019 and the last game of the season, an otherwise meaningless victory since the team had already been eliminated from post-season play.

With my wife beside me, we waited for his post-game interview. In imitation of Ringo Starr, Nancy had blisters on her fingers from clapping so hard all afternoon. It was a joyous scene.

Smith summed up the season this way: "We didn't get to where we wanted to go, but this is the start of something great."

I believe him too, just as I believe in Pete Alonso's guileless tears of gratitude and joy, and just as I believe in Jacob deGrom's consistent excellence.

Attending 15 Mets' home games this season, I was once again enchanted by Citi Field's relaxed, fun and friendly vibe. I want the Mets to succeed. Somehow the team makes me want to be better. Citi Field is Venus to Yankee Stadium's Mars.

I've cited Roger Angell's words here before: cheering for the Yankees' perfection is admirable but a trifle inhuman. The Mets' "stumbling kind of semi-success can be much more warming... there is more Met than Yankee in every one of us."

I saw further evidence of this on Sunday:

• Students from the Louis Armstrong Middle School on nearby Junction Boulevard performed the National Anthem
• Clear-voiced Marysol Castro, one of only two female PA announcers in baseball, handled the player introductions
• Todd Frazier (whose retro walk-up music is Sinatra's version of "Fly Me to the Moon"), in what might have been his last game as a Met, held an earnest, animated chat with two young fans at third base before the start of the game, as part of the Mets' routine of letting kids meet with players on the playing field

My wife, who is notoriously and inexplicably harassed by security personnel at other venues (and who we won't even allow enter a DMV office), was greeted warmly and cheerfully wherever we went -- from the parking lot attendant, to the jovial ticket-taker, to the bartender who carded her when we purchased wine. Her one and only suggestion for improvement? Given all the Mets' nods to quirky traditions, you should be able to buy Schaefer beer, her dad's improbable favorite and a throwback Mets sponsor, at Citi Field.

Still, when it came to baseball and as good as they were for most of the season, the Mets shot themselves in the foot several times... notably blowing a six-run lead in the bottom of the 9th after scoring five in the top half against the Washington Nationals on the day after Labor Day.

My personal Mets won-loss record was 9-6, a .600 percentage, so I'm hoping the team will offer me tickets to every home game next season. I witnessed three shutouts (two started by Steven Matz, including a rare complete game, one by deGrom); the only Mets wins ever for Hector Santiago and Chris Mazza; improbable late-inning home run heroics by Tomas Nido and Luis Guillorme; five home runs by J.D. Davis, four by Alonso and two, including the great finale, by Smith.

Below are some additional photo memories from the 2019 season.

Just wait, though, until I post about the 2020 season. I feel it in my bones. This is just the start of something great.

Meeting Mr. Met

We went to Seinfeld Night...

...and commiserated afterward at the Jackson Hole Diner

Yeah, we went on our anniversary too

With friends Paul Macchia and Matt Davis

Finally, a big thank you to my friend Joe Zwilling and his wife Cathy; they made all this possible!

Read this related post, "A Death in the Family," about the transcendent power of baseball.

9/11: A Lesson in Accountability

There is no such thing as accountability if you do your job and the next person can't do their's. Accountability means we all win together.

As the anniversary of 9/11 approaches, I again updated a Pinterest site I've been curating to preserve stories about Verizon's efforts to restore communications services following the terrorist attacks.

The site includes links to treasures in a variety of media, including a 38-minute video about the heroic colleagues I was proud to work beside in 2001.

One new link is Maria Bartiromo's interview on last year's 9/11 anniversary with Denny Strigl, the former CEO of Verizon Wireless. He talked about the tech sustainability "lessons learned" in the aftermath of the attacks.

Another lesson learned was articulated this past May by Verizon's former Chairman and CEO, Ivan Seidenberg. Having written "Verizon Untethered," a history of the company, Ivan sat down with entrepreneur and Internet personality Gary Vaynerchuk to promote the book on the #AskGaryVee YouTube show.

Here's a link to the show, if you aren't already one of Gary's 2.2 million subscribers. It's a fascinating 51-minute interview on a variety of business topics. At the 29:15 mark, Ivan begins talking about a favorite chapter in his book: "the story of how our company was able to deliver after 9/11."

In the end, this story is an important life lesson about the meaning of accountability. Here's a partial transcript of what Ivan had to say. It speaks for itself:

---------

Ivan and Gary

All of Wall Street was out; all of Manhattan was out... The next morning: still flames, still trying to look for survivors. Calls began coming in from all over the country about, "When is the Stock Exchange going to be up and running?"...

The trading partners on Wall Street... couldn't get their people into the buildings. They didn't have alternative locations. So, I remember Dick Grasso, who was the Chairman of the Stock Exchange at the time, called a meeting of everybody in the city...

Our people basically said, "We could do the following, but here's all the things you will have to do"...

The story here was great. We were running cables out of [the windows of] buildings. We were doing all sorts of things that we needed to do. But we were also helping other people do their jobs.

So this is the lesson on 9/11 for us: accountability. There is no such thing as accountability if you do your job and the next guy can't do his. Accountability means we all win together.

We ended up committing to getting the Stock Exchange up and running the following Monday. In the process of doing that, we developed relationships with the top 60 or 70 trading partners -- the Goldman Sachs, the Merrill Lynches, all those companies -- to help them make sure they could open their facilities, they had enough circuits to get things done, they had the generators and the power, and everything else that needed to occur to get the country up and running.

It was one of the greatest experiences of our careers, because it was a big deal... and it taught our company, back in 2001, what real accountability is.

Real accountability is not just doing your job, but doing your job and helping the people you work with do their jobs.

In Paterson, A Wall That Brings People Together

On August 28, 2019, a small ceremony in a small corner of Paterson, NJ, rekindled the spirit of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech.

Exactly 56 years after King challenged all to create a better world, a community came together to open a beautiful park on the corner of Auburn and Governor streets in what had been a blighted vacant lot.

I’ve visited and written about this community project before (in March 2018 and January 2019). Here are side-by-side photos of the park across the street from Bethel A.M.E. Church, where King visited in 1968, days before he was assassinated. I took the one on the left last year; the one on the right, yesterday.

The new park has two centerpieces: Stan Watts’ eight-foot bronze sculpture of King (pictured at the top of this post), and a colorful mural, inscribed “A Wall That Brings People Together,” painted by Paterson students Jonte Silver, Isaiah Stevens, Alberto Bustos and Claudia Clark. The park also features newly planted trees and flowers, chess tables and a Little Free Library.

You can read the whole story here by The Record’s Richard Cowen and in this account by TAPintoPaterson’s Ed Rumley. Several groups and individuals funded the project. Separately this past week, director Steven Spielberg -- in town to remake “West Side Story” -- made a substantial donation to improve Paterson parks.

Amid all this good news, Cowen adds this context:

“Fifty-one years after King’s visit, the corner of Auburn and Governor streets remains a dangerous place. The poverty that King saw as the root of racism pervades Paterson’s mostly black 4th Ward, along with the drugs and violence that accompany it. But the new park… is a respite from all that. It’s not just a symbol of hope; it’s a real place, an example of what can and does happen when people work together.”

The Record’s site also features a short video of the ribbon-cutting ceremony, including a reading from Paterson’s poet laureate (and Little Free Library steward), Talena Lachelle Queen.

Echoing King’s final plea on August 28, 1963, to “let freedom ring,” Queen challenged all to “let the bell ring for justice… for love… for equality.”

As the poet cued her listeners, they responded “ring!”... then louder “Ring!”... then louder “RING!”

Saluting Annapolis on World Photography Day

Sailing the Chesapeake Bay

Planning a recent three-day getaway, I considered it my patriotic duty to head in the direction of Baltimore.

When the U.S. President calls a city a "disgusting, rat and rodent infested mess," well... gauntlet thrown. I'm all in to show support.

Yes, parts of Baltimore -- just like parts of my beloved New Jersey and New York -- are grappling with poverty and crime.

But I saw no mess. With tickets to see the Orioles host the Astros, I saw beauty all around me... from the sculpture garden, to the children playing in Kids' Corner, to the shops and vendors along Eutaw Street. Here, for example, is a photo of the Camden Yards field, no filter, taken with my iPhone:

After opening more than 27 years ago, this baseball park still rivals anything in the major leagues. The fans are friendly, and quirky... enthusiastically emphasizing the "O" in "O, say can you see" during the national anthem (penned by Francis Scott Key in Baltimore during the War of 1812) and happily signing along to "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" during the 7th inning stretch.

Chickens in the street

Leaving Baltimore, my wife and I headed for Annapolis, which was also a little quirky. I counted nine, large decorative chickens on the streets near where we stayed -- remnants of a public art project hatched in 2012, when legislation was passed allowing local residents to have up to six chickens in their backyard for fresh eggs.

Despite unnerving flashbacks to the epic chicken fights in old episodes of "Family Guy," I greatly enjoyed Annapolis. There's plenty of food and drink and music in town, and sailing on Chesapeake Bay, beautiful historical architecture... and, best of all, the U.S. Naval Academy, where future officers are educated and trained.

I took the 90-minute walking tour, which is highly recommended. It's inspirational -- and it again brought back memories of my Dad, a former Naval reserve captain. More than that, visiting "The Yard," as the grounds of the academy are called, is a true patriotic duty.

As described on the tour's informational website, "professional, certified guides provide commentary on major attractions, including Bancroft Hall (midshipmen dormitory), Memorial Hall, Statue of Tecumseh, Herndon Monument (famous for Herndon Climb), Main Chapel and Crypt of John Paul Jones, Revolutionary War naval hero." You also learn about the admissions process and the education and training of midshipmen.

The commitment to honor and tradition, to self-sacrifice and to excellence, is palpable while touring campus. And, at several points along the way, the tour guide or someone else in passing invoked the name of John McCain with fondness and reverence.

Sometimes, there are no words. So let me show you a few more photos instead. It is, after all, #WorldPhotographyDay.

Here, for starters, is the inside of the campus chapel. The flowers mark a pew where no one ever sits. It's reserved in memory of all reported as MIA or being held as prisoners of war:

Here's the rotunda leading to Memorial Hall, where the walls are engraved with the names of 2,660 Naval Academy alumni who have died in military operations. The banner at the top of the stairway,  "Don't Give Up the Ship," recalls the dying command of James Lawrence aboard U.S.S Chesapeake, also during the War of 1812.

The rotunda is also the centerpiece of Bancroft Hall, a contiguous set of dormitories named after a former U.S. Secretary of the Navy. The dorms are home to the brigade of more than 4,000 midshipmen on campus. The entire brigade marches into Bancroft Hall (but never through the center doors!) during Noon Meal Formation, an elaborate daily ceremony.

Finally, here's Dahlgren Hall, a wonderful Beaux Arts building designed by architect Ernest Flagg and completed in 1903. It has served as an armory, indoor drill area, a Weapons Department laboratory and the site of graduation ceremonies at the academy through 1957.

John McCain, who is buried in Annapolis, graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1958. The former senator died of brain cancer at age 81 nearly a year ago today, Aug. 25, 2018.

As the Washington Post described his burial, "Hundreds of midshipmen packed the academy chapel and lined an avenue for a long procession. Defense Secretary Jim Mattis walked ahead of McCain's flag-draped casket on a caisson pulled by a team of horses from the Army's Old Guard. Four fighter jets from the Blue Angels squadron roared overhead after the ceremony in a tight wedge. One F-18 broke away and climbed skyward in the 'missing man' formation to honor the memory of McCain, a former Naval aviator."

The U.S. President did not attend that burial. Which is just as well.

I'll close this "photography post" -- and once more invoke patriotism -- with a few lines from McCain's address to the Brigade of Midshipmen at the U.S. Naval Academy in late October 2017. He thanked recruits for accepting the sacrifices of military service, and said this:

How did we end up here? Why do many Americans ignore our moral and historical knowledge and seek escape from the world we've led so successfully? 

There are many wise answers to those questions. My own is: we are asleep to the necessity of our leadership, and to the opportunities and real dangers of this world. We are asleep in our echo chambers, where our views are always affirmed and information that contradicts them is always fake... 

It's time to wake up. 

I believe in Americans. We're capable of better. I've seen it. We're hopeful, compassionate people. And we still have leaders who will uphold the values that made America great, and a beacon to the oppressed. 

But I don't take that for granted. We have to fight. We have to fight against propaganda and crackpot conspiracy theories. We have to fight isolationism, protectionism, and nativism. We have to defeat those who would worsen our divisions. We have to remind our sons and daughters that we became the most powerful nation on earth by tearing down walls, not building them."

About the Varettoni in the Hall of Fame

Today is National Baseball Card Day.

So, of course, I’ve posted a baseball card photo of myself from one of the exhibits at the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY, on Facebook and Twitter.

This only reminds me that, in real life, there’s a real Varettoni in a baseball Hall of Fame.

Bob “Chick” Varettoni was inducted into the Passaic Semi-Pro Baseball Hall of Fame on Friday, May 3, 1996, at the Knights of Columbus Regina Mundi Hall in Clifton, NJ.

That’s my Dad.

He was pitching semi-pro ball at the age of 13, featuring a nasty sinker he once tried to teach his son, with disastrous results. When Dad was 20, he twice pitched against New York Yankee great Whitey Ford when Passaic’s DeMuro Comets faced the Fort Monmouth Army team, during Ford’s military service.

Dad’s the second from the left in this photo from that night in Clifton. The kneeling man is Ted Lublanecki, a legend in NJ semi-pro baseball and a scout for the Philadelphia Phillies back in the day:

Here’s the text of the resolution entered into the Congressional record by Rep. William J. Martini of New Jersey on May 1, 1996. It details Dad’s accomplishments (click on the photo for a clearer image):

And here are the box scores of the games Dad pitched against Whitey Ford in 1952:

Here’s my ticket stub from that great night in 1996, along with Ted’s business card, in case you know of any good prospects:

Finally, here’s a team photo of the 1952 Passaic City Recreation Baseball League champions, the immortal DeMuro Comets:

Harold Burson, All the Way to Memphis

Meeting the legendary Harold Burson, July 8 in New York.

The center of the PR universe shifted nearly a thousand miles southwest this past week.

On July 23, Harold Burson, age 98, left his adopted home of New York City to return to his boyhood home in Memphis.

Burson is "The Godfather of PR," according to this "Daily Memphian" profile. He's also the B in the global communications agency BCW (Burson Cohn & Wolfe).

Back in Memphis, he is still working, although "enjoying a pace that's just a little bit slower than that of Manhattan," as he said in a statement.

Luckily for us in New York, just days before he left, The Museum of Public Relations invited local PR students to spend time with him in connection with the opening of its Harold Burson exhibit.

About 100 students, interns and professionals heard Burson's insights gained from his handling of historic PR cases. We also heard anecdotes from his life as a journalist, including his American Forces Network coverage of the Nuremberg Trials after World War II.

And -- thanks to Shelley and Barry Spector, founder and co-founder of the Museum -- these resources are available online. The Museum's Facebook page features a live-stream of the entire July 8 event and an edited, downloadable repost with better audio.

In addition, here are great recaps of the event and more background information about the Museum and Burson exhibit on O'Dwyer's (which also calls him "The Godfather of PR") and PRWeek (including a touching thank-you tribute by Kevin McCauley).

I've posted my own photos of the event in a Google Photos folder, and I want to thank Kathy Rennie who accompanied her PR class at New Jersey City University, for the photo posted here.

Goodbye, Mr. Burson. New York already misses you.

'Everyone Knows That Place Is Haunted'

Annie's Road in Totowa

According to local legend, there are at least two haunted roads in Passaic County, NJ.

One is Annie's Road in Totowa, where I grew up.

"Annie" is supposedly the ghost, dressed in white, of a teenager killed by a pickup truck as she tried to find her way to safety along unlit Riverview Drive. The story goes that she fled her boyfriend's car after an argument on Prom Night.

All the locals call this stretch of Riverview Drive "Annie's Road," and roadside memorials keep her legend alive. A Halloween tradition is to spill red paint on the blacktop and guard rails so that drivers will think they see Annie's blood.

Annie's Road snakes behind a cemetery and bypasses an alcove of small homes called, with no pretense of political correctness, "Midget Village." All this is not too far from what every teenage boy calls "Doo-fus Road" -- Duffus Avenue -- behind The Bethwood, a popular hall for wedding receptions and school reunions.

It's easy to find one online post after another after another filled with stories about Annie sightings.

It's harder to find if there's any truth behind these stories. In Totowa, everyone knows someone who knew Annie... but there's no obituary or news story or even a last name to verify her identity.

---------

The second haunted highway -- Clinton Road -- is the setting of a movie by the same name that premieres this Friday, June 14, on premium video and in nine cities (none in New Jersey).

It stars Ice-T and Vincent Pastore, and tells yet a few more tales about the nearly 10-mile stretch of road that cuts through a thick forest in former iron-mining country in West Milford, in the less-populated part of the county.

Ghost stories abound about Clinton Road, and you've no doubt heard a few yourself if you grew up in the Garden State. As a character states in the movie trailer embed below, "Everyone knows that place is haunted!"

But is it?

A story a few weeks ago in the North Jersey Record is a little more skeptical. Reporter David Zimmer does a great job in detailing the backstory.

Is the truth really out there about either of these haunted roads?

Does anyone know what corroborating evidence exists?

I'm curious. I don't want to spoil the fun of a good ghost story, but I truly want to know, the next time I drive down Riverview Drive, if I'm guilty of whistling past the graveyard.