Arun with a View

Hundreds of thousands of people in Myanmar (Burma) are suffering and could die if they don't get the help they need after the devastating cyclone.

The country's military government is resisting help from outsiders, though some aid is getting in. If you can, please consider donating to a reputable relief agency or fund.

UNICEF has done some great work around the world. The agency is well-funded, so perhaps you might contribute elsewhere. But here is the link if you do want to make a donation:

>>INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT OF U.S. FUND FOR UNICEF

>>DONATING TO OTHER RELIEF AGENCIES

There isn't anything I can write about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. that people far smarter than I haven't already written. Instead I offer this short quotation and lyrics from two U2 songs about the slain civil rights leader.

--------

"When evil men plot, good men must plan. When evil men burn and bomb, good men must build and bind. When evil men shout ugly words of hatred, good men must commit themselves to the glories of love. Where evil men would seek to perpetuate an unjust status quo, good men must seek to bring into being a real order of justice."
   --Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
     January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968


MLK
By U2

Sleep
Sleep tonight
And may your dreams
Be realized
If the thunder cloud
Passes rain
So let it rain
Rain down on me
Mmm...mmm...mmm...
So let it be
Mmm...mmm...mmm...
So let it be
Sleep
Sleep tonight
And may your dreams
Be realized
If the thundercloud
Passes rain
So let it rain
Let it rain
Rain on me


Pride (In the Name of Love)
By U2

One man come in the name of love
One man come and go
One come he to justify
One man to overthrow

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

One man caught on a barbed wire fence
One man he resist
One man washed on an empty beach
One man betrayed with a kiss

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

Early morning, April 4
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Free at last, they took your life
They could not take your pride

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love...

-------

DON'T LET THE DREAM DIE

New Delhi, India

I visited the Taj Mahal in Agra a few days ago with my father and aunt. It was the second time I had seen it (the first was in 1986, I believe). I don't think photos do it justice, but here is one anyway. It is very hard to describe the majesty of the place or even its scale. When you first see it from the gate, it almost looks like an illusion... a figment of your imagination or a memory from a postcard... the tomb seems to hover on the horizon... then you realize it's very much real and tangible........ and HUGE.



And as you approach the monument, which was Shah Jahan's testament of love to his dead wife, it just gets bigger until finally you arrive at the base and suddenly... it doesn't seem so big anymore because you are staring up at it and you can't see the top anymore. I will say that the inside is a big disappointing... the interior is dark (it's barely lit) and photography is not allowed... and perhaps that's why it seems small inside.

After my father and I strolled around the base, we began to walk back to the gate of the grounds where my aunt was waiting for us... and I found that I kept turned around to look at the Taj every few seconds as we receded. Almost just to make sure I had actually seen it, touched it, experienced it.

SEE MORE PHOTOS FROM MY TRIP

On Jan. 25, I visited the samadhi, or ceremonial mausoleum, of Mahatma Gandhi, the Father of India. The shrine is located in Delhi, India's capital. The site, where Gandhi was cremated, is decorated with fresh flowers and marked by an eternal flame, which reminded me of John F. Kennedy's grave at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia.

We landed after 9pm local time on the 19th and were met at the gate by a gentlemen holding a sign with our names... at first my father was puzzled but quickly realized his brother, a government official, had sent this airport employee to usher us through the immigration and customs process. Thank goodness, too, because as we cam down an escalator i saw a huge crowd of passengers waiting to show their passports. The guy (who moved so quickly through the crowds I could barely keep up) got us through a passport checkpoint in a few minutes. Ah it's good to know people in high places.

 

 

We collected our luggage and emerged trough a side exit and the first thing I noticed was the haze in the air What seemed like fog was actually a cloud of smoke and dust. The smoky odor  was palpable. I can't imagine what somebody with asthma would do.

 

Our family soon found us. There they were:  My aunt – Jyotsna Pehi; my uncle, Bhaiti Khura, my older cousin, Rohit, his wife, Priya, and their son, Anant, 5; my younger cousin, Gayatri, and her son, Rohan, 7. I had never met Priya or my nephews before this moment.

 

We all piled into 2 cars, and somehow found our way out of the madness that is the traffic in and around Indira Gandhi Airport, and drove to my uncle's residence in Bapa Nagar.

 

There is where we met more family, including my grandmother whom I hadn't seen in almost 18 years – not since my last trip to India in summer 1990. Also there were my aunt, Ranu Pehi, and uncle, Ishwar Peha.

 

We spent the next few hours (till past midnight) catching up. Thankfully, no one gave me crap about having taken almost two decades to return to India, they were just glad to see me.

So 2008 is here. So what. We wish each other happy new year, make resolutions, promise to be better about staying in touch, blah blah. All because a measure of time has elapsed according to a calendar.

But every day a new year begins, doesn't it? Today is the end of the year of time that began on Jan. 4, 2006, isn't it? So does that mean that every day we should make resolutions, make promises, and, heck, offer good wishes to a loved one?

Why not -- after all, if we think this way then there is no excuse not to try to improve one's life on any given day. Because every day I can say to myself: "It's the start of a new week, a new month, a new year, a new decade -- and I want to be a better man."

I am writing this from Upstate New York, whatever that means.

I hear that term used a lot, since I am both a New York resident and a member of the so-called working press, and the term appears online, in print on over the air.

I've been using the term since I was a kid when my family spent summers in and around a hamlet in Sullivan County, N.Y., known as Callicoon. We used to say that we'd go "Upstate" on vacation. The irony is that the home in which we stayed was actually across the Delaware River -- and thus in Pennsylvania!

Now, my parents own a small home on 2.7 acres, also near Callicoon -- but on the New York side of the river.

Folks in New York City and Long Island tend to call anything north of, say, Westchester and Rockland Counties as "Upstate," though I'm not sure that residents of Warwick (in Orange County) or Carmel (in Putnam County) would consider themselves "Upstate." Maybe it depends how far north in either county you go.

So what about REALLY far Upstate? Is Buffalo "Upstate New York" or is it just "Western New York"? Or is it "Downstate Ontario"? ;-)

Are the Adirondack Mountains "Upstate"... or just really frakkin' far north?

Wikipedia has an interesting article on this very topic, outlining the different definitions of the term "Upstate."

* * *

I remember waaay back in 1999 and 2000 when Hillary Clinton was first running for the U.S. Senate, experts and commentators said she wouldn't have "Upstate appeal" and that Mayor Rudy Giuliani (who at that time was running against her) would have strong support "Upstate" because he's a Republican (even though he's from Brooklyn).

Rep. Rick Lazio stepped into the race when Giuliani dropped out when he was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and he too was expected to get good Upstate support............. Well Clinton trounced Lazio in urban areas AND beat or held even with Lazio "Upstate."

So much for that theory.

I had an interesting day.

Around lunchtime I subwayed down to the NYPD's 7th Precinct station house to pick up a brand-new ballistic vest.

You see, I'm an NYPD auxiliary police officer, which is a part-time, volunteer thing. We wear a uniform and badge, carry a wooden baton and police radio, and walk the streets acting as the "eyes and ears" of the NYPD. We do not carry firearms.

[Watch a report about the Auxiliary Police]

After two auxiliaries lost their lives back in March, Police Commissioner Ray Kelly announced the department would issue the vests to all auxiliary officers.

[Watch a report about the issuing of the vests]

APO Nick Pekearo and APO Yevgeniy Marshalik were killed in the line of duty when a crazed gunman charged at them and then shot them at close range.

[Read my essay about their deaths]

I was grateful to get my new vest -- it's a very high-quality model. It's the Summit MON-IIIA++. Rated IIIA means it is supposed to stop a 9mm or a .44 Magnum handgun round. It will not stop a rifle round.

When on patrol, I had been wearing a vest I had purchased on my own from a dealer in Israel. Although that vest is also rated IIIA, it doesn't have side panels like the Summit. That is a crucial feature.

After the NYPD's ballistic vest team made sure the vest fit me correctly, I got back on the subway and headed to work. That's when I read the booklet that came with the vest. A section inside called "Warnings - You Must Read!!" (yes, it has TWO exclamation points...) had a long litany of warnings and disclaimers. Here's a taste:

"...body armor is not bulletproof and can not protect against all threats. Impact forces can result in serious injury or death."

(Nice... a bullet I might survive, but a sledgehammer could kill me.)

"Ballistic panels do not protect the neck or any area it does not cover. Strenuous movements or physical altercations may cause ballistic panels to shift on the wearer's body thus affecting actual coverage... Substantial weight gain or loss... can also cause previously protected areas to become exposed."

(Wow, is that a reason to NOT lose weight??)

"The greater the angle at which a round strikes the vest, the greater the possibility the round may ricochet or slide off the side of the vest. A ricochet may travel at a high rate of speed which could result in severe injury of death."

(Great, a bullet that doesn't even penetrate the panel could bounce off and slam into my head.)

And the best one:

"...multiple rounds striking the vest in a tight shot pattern may result in a penetration of the vest causing severe injury or death."

(In other words, I'm hoping whoever might open fire is a terrible shot or has only one round in the chamber.)

So basically I started freaking out a bit when I read all this and then it really hit me: I COULD GET SHOT. It's not that I didn't already know this, but after the "cool" factor of getting the new vest wore off I really began to digest the notion of what this all means.

And I only go on patrol about twice a month.

Regular police officers suit up every day for 8-10 hours a day, putting themselves in harm's way. Sure, they have more training and carry guns, but that puts them in much more danger since they are sworn to take action when needed.

When I wear the vest, I will think about APOs Pekearo and Marshalik. I will remember their bravery and sacrifice. I will think about the fear they must have felt in those final, horrible moments and what their families must still be going through.

I am grateful to have the vest, Commissioner.

We who work in the news business see crazy, bizarre and sad stories every day, and yes, to a certain degree we have become numb to their impact.

But every now and then we come across a story that still manages to shock us.

This week, it was news that a young lab tech at a hospital in New Jersey was arrested and accused of having SEX with a CORPSE. That's right -- a security guard said he saw the guy inside the morgue having sex with the body of a 92-year-old woman who had died only a few hours before.

READ THE STORY HERE

If the accusations are true, then I want to know how in the world can someone be so screwed up that they have the urge to do something so awful, so disgusting, so frighteningly obscene. What possesses a person to succumb to such an urge? What happened in this man's life, in his past, his childhood or whatever that molded him into such a person? It is truly disturbing.

Here's another crazy thing: The crime he is charged with is "with sexual penetration of human remains." In other words, there is an actual LAW on the books that SPECIFICALLY makes sex with a corpse a crime. That means that lawmakers at some point were forced to create the law because there were enough sickening cases of this to warrant action. That is truly frightening.

I know this is a gruesome topic, but the case really troubles me.

Any thoughts? Please keep your language clean.

Want to track news, weather and sports from MyFoxNY.com right on your desktop? Then check out SpringWidgets.

With widgets, you can stay on top of headlines from MyFoxNY.com regardless of what you're doing on your computer. Think of our widgets as little windows into the Web. Now you can stay up to date without wasting time searching.

You can drag them around your desktop, open multiple versions of the same widget, and even dock them against the side of your screen so they stay open while you work.

Check out this sample widget… and then go to our WIDGETS PAGE and grab the ones you want!

Get this widget!

As Thanksgiving approaches, I am reminded how despite whatever personal stresses and hardships I may have to deal with, I am privileged and lucky. That's why I would like to draw attention to a good cause this week, even though as a journalist I usually avoid publicly pointing out individual causes.

I'm talking about the genocide in Darfur. Perhaps it has become the latest cause celebre, but it's not a fashion statement; it's a very real crisis. If you haven't read the columns and dispatches by New York Times writer Nicholas Kristof, I recommend you do.

Below is a link to a worthy petition. I'll be thankful if even a few of our MyFoxNY readers would be willing to consider signing it. Have a safe, peaceful and happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

SaveDarfur.org has a post called "Materials for Thanksgiving Action" that's worth checking out...

You'll find a letter and petition you can print out and have your family sign during your Thanksgiving celebration.

As a member of the U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary, I was invited to participate in today's Veterans' Day Parade in New York City. It was a true honor to join other Auxiliarists and active-duty Coast Guardsmen to march behind the flag of our service.

The parade was a wonderful and touching tribute to the men and women who have put on the uniform of our country. I saw veterans and current troops, young and old, of every branch, marching proudly. Grateful citizens stood on the sidelines waved signs and flags and cheered. I'd like to thank all veterans, and especially those whom I have known personally, including the late Peter Succio (U.S. Navy/WWII) and others.

I'd like to pay tribute to those who are currently serving in the military, espcially those who are deployed in war zones in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Finally, I thank members of my own family who have honorably served in the armed forces of their native countries, including my late uncle, Wing Commander Tongkeshwar Das (Indian Air Force), who passed away just a few weeks ago. I miss you.

I take voting very seriously; maybe that's because I had to earn the right to vote by becoming a U.S. citizen in 1997, and it drives me bonkers when I see how apathetic the voting public is. I agree that the choice of candidates can be depressing and that sometimes one may feel like one's vote may not make a difference; but it's the principle that is important. If you're not satisfied with the candidates, then vote anyway and WRITE IN someone better. That person may not get but a vote or two, but again, it's the prinicple.

This Tuesday, Nov. 7, is election day and it's an important one. Unfortunately, I have to be out of town, so yesterday I made sure to go to the Board of Elections in Queens and I filled out an absentee ballot. I know that absentee ballots are not counted unless they can affect the outcome of a particular race, but as I say again and again -- it's the principle. My mother is from a country where free elections didn't exist until the 1990s, so to me voting is not a "chore"; it's a cherished right and duty.

On this fifth anniversary of the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, I sit here in the offices of MyFox New York, working on our coverage of this somber day, and I feel lucky to have family, friends and colleagues close by when I know so many others do not -- whether they were lost on 9/11 or in wars, or to famine and disease.

Finding the words to express the range of emotions I am feeling today is very difficult. So I have decided to reprint an essay I wrote in the days after the 9/11 attacks that was published in a community newspaper called New York Trend.

---

Thoughts from One of New York's Adopted Sons in the Wake of the World Trade Center Destruction

By Arun Kristian Das

Though I am not a native New Yorker, I like to think of myself as one. I have lived here most of my life--20 of my 28 years on this Earth ('75-'85, '91-present). My parents are foreigners--one Czech, one Indian--and when growing up, my sister and I often struggled with the question of national and even racial identity.

Over the years it became clear to me that nowhere in the world felt quite like home the way America does. In many ways New York City raised me, and I spent formative years here during childhood and college. Those days on my college campus on the Upper West Side cemented in me a "New York State of Mind" (to borrow the words of Billy Joel).

May 9, 1997, was one of my proudest days. In front of federal officials, shoulder to shoulder with other teary-eyed immigrants, I raised my right hand and took an oath of allegiance to this country. It was a turning point in my life, as is this one. I spent my adolescence in Europe during a period ('85-'91) when terrorism was a real threat. Italian military policemen, the Carabinieri, armed with Berretta submachine guns often patrolled my high school campus, where an ex-Israeli Army officer was head of security.

I know that danger and fear paled in comparison to what children experience in countless countries torn apart by true crises--civil war, ethnic strife, or famine. Nevertheless, in our relative safety and life of privilege, my classmates and I attended school with apprehension.

But never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the insanity and horror of September 11 in New York. I have no words to truly describe how I feel.

I offer only this perhaps self-centered thought: I grew up at the top of a forty-story apartment building on East 25th Street. Every day I could see the Twin Towers from my bedroom window. As a child, I thought of the World Trade Center as constant as any other landmark building in the city (such as the Pan Am, Empire State, and Chrysler--all visible from my apartment) and as immovable as Central Park itself.

As an adult, I have come to see New York in a different light, appreciating it for its art, culture, opportunity, and, most of all, diversity. Enjoying this city --experiencing its sights and cuisine and discovering its neighborhoods and people--I've come to appreciate what a great place this is to live and work. It's a place both maddening and rewarding.

Now, from the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, just a few blocks from my home, I look up at the Wall Street skyline across the East River and those grand, immovable towers are simply gone, as if they were never there.

Instead, I see a sickening, dirty blond cloud rising above a dusty tomb to thousands of human beings.

All it took was one morning and 19 maniacs with box cutters.

To everyone who has lost friends or loved ones, we grieve with you.

--

Originally published in different form in New York Trend.

Fleet Week is always a special time in New York. White, blue and khaki uniforms wash over the city, as sailors, Coasties, and Marines storm the streets for some well-deserved leave. As a Coast Guard Auxiliarist, I was lucky to be a part of this year's activities. I volunteered to help lead tours of the USCGC Sturgeon Bay, an icebreaker and tug, which was moored at Pier 90. The Navy gets all the glory and attention during Fleet Week, what with their impressively intimidating warships and crisp white uniforms that women love. But the men and women of the U.S. Coast Guard deserve some attention and recognition, too. That's why I was thrilled and honored to put on my Auxiliary uniform to be the public face of the Coast Guard for a day and a half, showing people around the Sturgeon Bay. She's a tough little ship, capable of breaking through 30 inches of ice at a sustained speed of 3 knots. In the winter months, she steams up the Hudson River all the way to Albany, breaking the ice and clearing the channel for commerce. In the spring and summer, the ship patrols the Hudson, the East River, New York Harbor, and the Jersey coast down to Sandy Hook, making sure all is safe and well. We had a great turnout on Monday (Memorial Day) and Tuesday, and I think visitors enjoyed their look inside the ship. My thanks to the Sturgeon Bay's captain, LCDR John Burns, and her crew for their hospitality and their service to our community.

Please see my "USCG/NYPD" photo album for pictures of the Sturgeon Bay from Fleet Week.