CLOSE
Opinion

by -
0 148
Stock photo

Social media has enabled people to connect and reunite with each other. Unfortunately, it also has provided another outlet for scam artists.

According to the Federal Trade Commission, “More than one in four people who reported losing money to fraud in 2021 said it started on social media with an ad, a post or a message.”

An event organizer in the TBR News Media coverage area recently discovered that someone had set up fraudulent social media accounts pretending to be a representative from their organization. When they took to their Facebook and Instagram accounts to warn the public, they found their name wasn’t the only one being used to scam local residents.

There are countless scammers out there impersonating not only other people but companies and nonprofit organizations. In the incidents occurring in the TBR coverage area, people set up social media accounts promising vendors that they could secure their spots at future events of the organizers through the account by using PayPal.

The incidents are just another reminder that navigating social media is the same as the web: You can’t take anyone at their word.

The best thing to do when anyone approaches you over social media asking for money — just as you would over the web and phone — is to ask if you can get back to them. If they keep insisting that you pay now, odds are they’re not who they say they are.

Anyone who is legitimately representing a business would have no problem with you jotting down their number and getting back to them. Of course, when calling or emailing a company back, if you are handing over money, you’ll want to make sure you look up the contact information before calling. Many times, scammers will go as far as answering the phone by saying the company’s name or setting up email accounts that make it look as if they are associated with the business.

Some may ask that a person pays through PayPal or Venmo and similar payment apps which may make a person feel better since a credit card number is not being given out. The bottom line is that money is still being stolen and most likely will never be recouped. It’s important that payors do their research.

Facebook’s help center also advises that users be wary if someone asks you “to move the conversation off Facebook to a less public or less secure setting, such as a separate email.”

Other things to look out for are unverified pages claiming to represent a large organization or public figure, or a page that contains messages or posts with poor spelling and grammar.

The most important advice to heed is that if you think you have been scammed, file a police report by calling the Suffolk County Police Department at 631-852-SCAM (7226) and notify the platform on where the fraudulent account is set up.

Social media has provided a whole new world for interaction. With a bit of caution, it can be a pleasant experience instead of a dangerous one. Just some extra care goes a long way.

by -
0 384
Daylight Saving Time may be going away for good

On Tuesday March 15, the U.S. Senate passed legislation that would make daylight saving time permanent. That doesn’t mean it’s a done deal. The House of Representatives still has to meet and agree to pass the bill before it can go to President Joe Biden to sign. Also, it wouldn’t go into effect until 2023.

Be that as it may, we here at TBR News Media thought it would be interesting to see how people felt about the news, so we headed out to the streets of Port Jefferson on a sunny Friday afternoon to see what local passersby thought of the prospect of never having to move their clocks forward and back each year.

Here’s what they had to say:

Samantha Falese, West Islip 

“I love the sunshine. I’m a morning person, so when I get up, it might be a little bit darker, but I like the idea of coming home knowing it’s light out because I work about an hour away.”

 

 

 

Rachel Guglielmo, Port Jefferson 

“I’m looking forward to it staying like this. I like getting out of work and being in the sunlight instead of leaving work and it being all dark out and making me feel like my day is all over. I’m more motivated when it’s light out.”

 

 

 

Connie Poulos, Selden 

“I’m happy about it. If it’s like, so that it doesn’t get dark at 4 o’clock, that would be nice. I’m looking forward to more sunlight.”

 

 

 

 

Gwen Coady with grandson Jack, Saint James 

“My husband does construction. If he works later in the summer, it stinks. If it’s daylight, he keeps on working. The other way, he keeps more of a schedule. But I do like the daylight savings because I love to be outside.”

 

 

 


Allison Marin, Port Jefferson 

“I think I like the changing back and forth because it kind of gives you something to look forward to that day — when you know you’re getting the hour back. I don’t love losing it necessarily, but when you get the hour back, you kind of feel like you won. You know? Like you want to do something big with your hour. You have to make it worth something. I think it’s kind of fun.”

 

 

Stephen Malusa, Selden 

“I like it. Finally get rid of that nonsense. Changing back and forth is just an annoyance.”

 

by -
0 86

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

We’ve only visited The Fly, a grassy area behind Audubon Park in New Orleans that sits along the edge of the Mississippi River, four times, and yet we can’t possibly travel to the Crescent City without stopping there.

A wide open space that draws students from nearby Tulane and Loyola universities, residents of all ages, screeching seagulls and supersized cormorants that look like genetically altered cousins of Long Island’s water foul, The Fly has hosted some of our most enjoyable visits to see our freshman son in college.

The first time we walked to The Fly, our son was in that miserable, confusing, bees-buzzing-around-his-overlong-hair state when he wasn’t sure where he wanted to attend college and when everything, particularly enthusiastic parents, was irritating.

We had to wait what seemed like forever in searing heat for a freight train with endless cars to cross in front of us to climb over a small hill and reach The Fly. The endless train took so long to pass at a snail’s pace that my son and I sat down on dry grass, while my wife took a few pictures. We tried to keep the moment light, even though our son felt the weight of college uncertainty on his broad shoulders.

When the gates finally went up and we crossed the tracks, the first thing I noticed was the relief the refreshing gusts of wind that came off the river provided.

As we approached the water, we passed young families sitting on blankets and eating picnic lunches, college students playing “never have I ever” games and birds lifting off and circling the shoreline of the river, using their bodies as kites in the swirling winds.

The open green space between the back of the zoo at Audubon Park and the river energized my son and me, calling to us to play.

As we inched closer to the pathway near the river, we stared into the active water, which looked as busy as a bustling city. The main current in the middle traveled one way, while swirling eddies circled near the shore.

Sitting on a sturdy wooden bench, we soaked in the scene and could see our son’s shoulders lower and his breathing slow. The water show helped allay any anxiety he had about class assignments, making friends, learning about a new place, or living far from home.

An ocean going cargo ship passed within 100 feet of us. These enormous ships, sometimes pulled by muscular tugboats, seemed impossibly close, acting like an outdoor theater with an oversized screen.

During several other visits to The Fly, we have delighted in the unexpected. Once, we brought a football and ran patterns in a heavy but warm rain while my wife watched comfortably from the car. Playing on an empty, soggy field with my son made me feel as if I were jogging through the fountain of youth.

While the Fly has become one of my favorite places to visit, I have increasingly come to see settings as much more than backdrops for life and action: they have become like characters, encouraging, inspiring, challenging and reviving us. Like the salty smell of West Meadow Beach, they can also give us the chance to travel through time in our minds, reminding us of earlier visits and the people who traveled with us through life to these locations.

Our son has visited The Fly several times over the last few months. He has taken short videos of the moving water, the frolicking birds, and that first wooden bench where we shared a respite from the college process. The videos he sends are a short visit with him and our friend The Fly.

by -
0 111
METRO photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Since the news lately has been so grim, I want us to share something of a lighter tone. Have you ever thought about your earliest memories? How far back can you go? Do you remember what your parents looked like when they were younger? Do you recall outings they took you on and how that worked out? What spotlight can you shine back on the farthest points in your life?

The first that comes to my mind is the fun I had sledding in Central Park one day with my dad. The hill at 84th Street and Fifth Avenue looks pretty modest to me now, but then I thought it was alpine. The weather must have been very cold because my dad, who was almost never cold, was wearing his rough woolen grey overcoat. We had a Frequent Flyer long red sled that he carried easily to the park by holding onto one of the runners. He then pulled it over the snow behind us by a rope attached to the handles as we trudged upward.

When we reached the top, he lay down on the sled, his legs dangling over the back, and I climbed on top of him, holding onto his collar with all my strength as he pushed off and we flew at incredible speed down the frozen snow. I can still feel the pellets of ice thrown up by the runners stinging my cheeks and the wind howling alongside as my dad steered among the other children and parents who had also come out to enjoy the white miracle of snow in the city. When we got to the bottom and slowly came to a halt, we laughed triumphantly and tumbled off the sled to go back up and do it all over again.

Later that afternoon, on the way home, my dad motioned for me to get on the sled so that he could pull me the several blocks until we returned to our apartment. Except for narrow shoveled pathways, the streets were hard-packed with snow. I remember telling him that I was too heavy and being puzzled by his laugh. Then his expression turned sober as he assured me that I truly wasn’t too heavy. I did get on and rode home. 

I remember my mother teaching me to read. I could recognize the letters from the Alphabet Song she had taught me, but I had been pestering her for more. My dad read newspapers, my mother read reports from work, and I wanted to read, too. So she sat down with me on the side of my bed and explained that just like the Alphabet Song that we sang, if I could put the sounds of the letters together, they spelled out a word. Then she opened a book, and prompted me to sound out each letter of the word she was pointing to. As I did that, I suddenly yelled out the word and understood. It was an epiphany for me. I could read the word. Any word. All the words. I began trying to read everything in sight, again pestering my mother when the sounds didn’t make sense. And to this day, reading is one of the greatest pleasures of my life.

The last early memory I will share with you would probably embarrass my mother if she were here with us. But she isn’t, and I will tell. My brother was almost 14 years older, and there was no one in between. I heard my mother asked more than once by lady friends how it was that after all that time, I arrived. She would reply, “Leah was an accident.”

I thought about that for a while, tried to understand, then finally came up with a satisfactory explanation. It went something like this. One day my mother was crossing Second Avenue, a heavily trafficked road I was familiar with, and was hit by a truck. And there I was.

Little did I know that I had invented binary fission, the means by which amoeba reproduce. After I checked that out with my mother, she never again uttered those words.

by -
0 112
Pixabay photo

In an increasingly modern, information-based economy, survival requires an ability to adapt to the changing environment.

On the other hand, those who shrink in the face of change will have the hardest time navigating this new normal. This week, TBR News Media was fortunate to speak with several leaders throughout our area. Their warning was the same: Long Island is still unprepared to meet the demands of the 21st century.

Martin Cantor, director of the Long Island Center for Socio-Economic Policy, shared with us the history of mass transit systems on Long Island.

Sometime during the suburbanization of Long Island, regional planners failed to account for population increase and the great many cars to accompany it. Today, we pay the cost of failed planning in the form of cluttered roads and endless traffic.

 So reliant are we on our cars, some well-intentioned reformers now suggest that we transition to electric cars here on Long Island — and throughout the country. This, too, has its drawbacks.

Kevin Beyer, vice president of government affairs at the Long Island Gasoline Retailers Association, said the push for electric vehicles is unrealistic and expensive. The grid simply cannot accommodate an overnight increase of millions of electric vehicles, and we shouldn’t expect it to.

The Long Island parkway system is nearly a century old, yet our commuters rely upon this infrastructure every day to get to work. Without a modernized mass transit network, Long Island commuters must choose between cramped train cars or congested highway traffic. We expect antiquated transit networks to support today’s mass of commuters.

Time and again, Long Islanders apply outdated methods to modern problems. This is like building a jet engine with stone tools.

Not all hope is lost, however. For example, look no further than Smithtown’s Office of Town Clerk, where you will find that the transition from old to new technologies is already underway. For the last 16 years, Town Clerk Vincent Puleo (C) has worked to digitize paper records for electronic filing. This has made the day-to-day operations of the office faster, simpler and more accessible to his constituents.

We need to apply Puleo’s approach elsewhere. We must update our transportation systems to account for the many more drivers on our roads today. We must invest in mass transit, such as buses and boats for commuter travel, so that we are no longer helplessly delayed.

 We must embrace the changes happening all around us, for change is the only constant in this life. And with all of that being said, we should remember and learn from the ways of the past. Let history be our guide as we move ahead into the world of the new.

by -
0 212
Local gas pump showing the surging price of gasoline.

The skyrocketing price of gas has hit record highs here on Long Island and across the entire United States. TBR News Media took to the streets of Port Jefferson and Setauket to find out how local residents were feeling about it all.

Photo by Jim Hastings

Crista Davis, Mount Sinai

“We’re pretty local, thankfully. I don’t have a far commute, but if I did, that’s something that would surely affect other aspects of my life. I’m fortunate that I live close to everything, but I feel bad for people who have no choice.”

 

 

 

Photo by Jim Hastings

Kenny Dorsa, Selden

“We’re pretty local, thankfully. I don’t have a far commute, but if I did, that’s something that would surely affect other aspects of my life. I’m fortunate that I live close to everything, but I feel bad for people who have no choice.”

 

 

 

Photo by Jim Hastings

Mitch Steinberg, Huntington

“It’s definitely going to make us consider our finances. Conserve a little bit. But we still have to drive to work and do the things we have to do.”

 

 

 

 

Photo by Jim Hastings

Abby Buller, Port Jefferson Station

Owner of Village Boutique, Port Jefferson

“From my business point of view, all of my wholesalers are complaining about their cost rising and having to pay more to employees. So, the higher cost of employees, gas, oil, freight. If I hear anything more about the cost of freight. When my wholesaler increases my cost of $7 an item, I have no choice. I have to pass that $7 on. I used to live in Queens and drive to Port Jefferson every day. I thank God I don’t have to do that, because that would have been, at these prices, a decision to close this store. 

 

Photo by Jim Hastings

Walter Martinez, Shirley

“I pay now double what I was paying last year, but I don’t blame it on the president and I don’t blame it on the government. Everything is just going up. And now with this war thing it’s just getting worse. It is what it is. You just gotta stand by and hope for the best. You know, we gotta pay the price. I do regret that I didn’t go for an electric car before.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

by -
0 60
Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

It’s been a long time since I took a child to a playdate or to the first day of a kindergarten class. And yet, I felt as if I had gone through a time warp recently when my daughter, who is home for spring break, and I took our three-year-old dog Bear for his second visit to a dog run.

While I’m sure many dog owners are familiar with the process, I found the collection of dogs circling trees, bushes and owners fascinating and familiar.

When we arrived, several dogs played in groups of shifting sizes while their owners, like anxious parents hoping their children play well together, stood by, observing the action and preparing to intercede.

Dog owners looked back and forth at my daughter and me, trying to figure out which of the collection of pets straight of a Dr. Seuss book filled with colorful illustrations of dogs of all shapes and sizes was ours.

That process isn’t as obvious as the genetics of trying to match the faces of young children with the parents standing by, waiting for the bell to ring and a teacher to bring their children inside.

Like protective parents, many of the dog owners watched their pets carefully, not only to make sure they were behaving, but also to ensure that none of the other dogs was threatening them.

Some dog owners shared stories about their dogs, much as my children’s classmates had done over 15 years ago, talking about what their dogs like to do and how eager they are for their dogs to get out all their energy now, so they’ll sleep well. Just as it does for young children, a day of healthy activities means a good night’s sleep.

A medium-sized dog paused in a puddle, stomping in the squishy mud. Her owner raced over and barked at Roxy to “stop,” annoyed that her paws looked like they had brown booties.

Meanwhile, a giant dog with the name Zeus written on a horse collar lumbered from one group to another, his head held higher than other dogs who came up to his shoulder.

Bear shifted from one group to another, awed by the athletic prowess of two huge dogs that vaulted onto a picnic table. 

At one point, Bear trotted to the other extreme end of the park, almost out of sight. I whistled for him and, despite his tendency to ignore me at home, he immediately picked up his head and pitched his ears forward. I signaled for him to come back and, to my amazement, he jogged the length of the field, where my daughter and I pet him appreciatively.

While Bear played with the other canines, he also visited every pet owner, thrusting his head towards their knees and staring up at them with his best “I-know-you’re-a-dog-person-so-please-pet-me” face.

An aggressive dog barked and nipped at the others who had been playing peacefully. After the newcomer lunged at Bear three times, he trotted to the exit, glancing over his shoulder periodically to make sure we were coming. We obediently followed.

Once we were near our car, an unleashed dog raced around the lot, as his owner shouted for Oliver repeatedly to come back and to stay away from cars moving slowly enough to avoid loose dogs.

As we drove home, with our dog panting from the exertion in the back seat, I glanced at our daughter and appreciated the brief trip down memory lane when we brought her home from playing with her peers.

Our dog has no intention of trekking off to college, even if he’s eager to explore the world of our neighbors’ houses, where the grass sometimes seems greener.

by -
0 141
Endurance. Wikipedia photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Like a hand reaching out from its watery grave, the stern of the ship with the name “Endurance” became visible in the underwater drone’s searching beacon of light. A century after the ice crushed and sank the vessel, along with the hopes of explorer Ernest Shackleton and his crew for being the first to walk across Antarctica from sea to sea via the South Pole, the biggest shipwreck discovery since the Titanic connected us with those men a century ago. For many of us, the find was thrilling.

The three-masted ship is remarkably preserved in 10,000 feet of water below the surface ice, and from the photos, even the spokes on the wheel in the stern are hauntingly intact. Armed with the latest undersea equipment, marine archeologists, engineers and scientists, using the last data recorded when the ship sank, were able to find the wooden Endurance, survivor of one of the most heroic expeditions in history, at the bottom of the Wendell Sea near the Antarctica Peninsula. The Falklands Maritime Heritage Trust’s group Endurance 22 announced the news. The darkness and frigid temperatures had made such search efforts in the past impossibly difficult but also created an inhospitable environment for bacteria, mites and wood-eating worms that might have devoured the ship. Instead it stands at attention since 1915 on the sea floor.

After the ship sank, Shackleton and his crew of 28 loaded food and anything else they could into three lifeboats and set up camp on ice floes, and when those disintegrated, camped on Elephant Island. 

The Endurance. Photo from Wikipedia

Recognizing that they had somehow to get help if they were to survive, Shackleton, his captain, Frank Worsley and four other carefully selected men sailed across 800 miles of treacherous waters in a 22-foot boat to the nearest place of habitation, a remote whaling community on the island of South Georgia. Once they arrived, they had to scale steep mountains to get to the station on the other side. Shackleton’s decisive and heroic leadership ultimately saved the entire crew and is studied in business schools and management programs to this day. His planning and improvisation made the escape possible.

Shackleton died in 1922. Curiously the wreck’s discovery happened exactly 100 years to the day that Shackleton was buried. And while Endurance was photographed and filmed, nothing was removed or disturbed, and it is protected as an historic monument.

An Anglo-Irishman, Sir Ernest Shackleton was born in County Kildare, Ireland, and moved with his family to south London. His story seems a fitting way to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. He led three different English expeditions to the Antarctic, walked to within 97 miles of the South Pole during the previous Nimrod expedition of 1907-09, and climbed Mt. Erebus, the most active Antarctic volcano. For those feats, he was knighted by King Edward VII on his return. Ultimately he led a final expedition in 1921 but died of a heart attack while his ship was moored in South Georgia. He is buried there. 

Despite the fact that he was largely unsuccessful in business ventures and died heavily in debt, Shackleton was voted eleventh in a BBC poll of the 100 Greatest Britons in 2002. He was to be the one others prayed to have lead them when under extreme circumstances.

The saga of Ernest Shackleton and the Endurance captured my imagination when I worked for Editor Alfred Lansing at Time Inc. I was 22 and had never met anyone quite like Al before. A volunteer in the Navy when he was 17 (he lied about his age and somehow got in), Al had a reddish-blond crew cut, bright blue eyes, a huge smile and a tattoo on his right forearm well before tattooes were a common occurrence. He smoked unfiltered Lucky Strikes, was one of the best storytellers I had ever met, and wrote adventure stories on the side for what were then called men’s magazines.

It was Alfred Lansing who wrote the book “Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage” four years earlier which had received a National Book Award nomination. Listening to him tell the story, I was hooked for life on that adventure and the marvel of Shackleton’s leadership. Sadly, both men died at an early age.

by -
0 154
Donations collected on March 3 at the offices of county Legislator Stephanie Bontempi and Dr. David Buchin. Photo by Raymond Janis

The response of Long Islanders to help Ukrainians has been encouraging.

On March 3, Suffolk County Legislator Stephanie Bontempi (R-Centerport) and Dr. David Buchin headed up the Long Island Ukrainian Emergency Response Drive at their offices, located at 224 Wall St. in Huntington. Local elected officials and community members joined them to gather items such as blankets, medical supplies, sleeping bags and other essentials to send to the embattled country.

On Monday, Suffolk County Sheriff Errol Toulon Jr. (D) announced the addition of nearly 450 pieces of bulletproof body armor from his office to the items already collected in Huntington. The College Hunks moving company assisted in delivering the items to the New York City processing center and from there the items will be shipped to Ukraine.

Donation drives similar to those of Bontempi and Buchin along with rallies to support Ukrainians have taken place all over the TBR News Media coverage areas. The message sent across the globe is that we stand with the country in their fight against Russia.

TBR News Media readers have also reached out with letters to the editor condemning Russia’s actions, and another reader shared the struggles his Ukrainian family faced in the past. He hoped that history would not repeat itself, but he was ready to help any relative who needed his assistance.

The last few years have been divisive ones for the United States. Between the political divide and our battle against COVID-19, it seemed as if we couldn’t look past our own borders. Now we see Americans uniting once again for a cause.

It’s a shame it took such a tragedy to bring us all together. It may have taken a war, but Americans seem once again united behind a common theme: the cause of freedom, democracy and the right of a free people to self-determination.

As U.S. Rep. Tom Suozzi (D-NY3) said on March 3 in front of the offices of Bontempi and Buchin, “We have to follow the old idea that partisanship stops at the water’s edge. We have to all hold together like we are today.”

As we watch Long Islanders work together to help people struggling on the other side of the globe, let’s remember what it’s like to be united as Americans, not only past the water’s edge but on our own island.

by -
0 106
Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

When my daughter was young, one of her favorite songs was “Old MacDonald.” Maybe she loved it because it was a song about farm animals and we lived in Manhattan, where most of our non-human wildlife consisted of squirrels and pigeons.

When she was an infant, she could make an incredibly convincing pigeon coo, thanks to hearing them all day long outside her window.

Maybe she also liked the song because, unlike Bette Middler’s “The Rose” and “One” from “A Chorus Line,” my wife and I couldn’t butcher the relatively simple melody with our unimpressive singing skills.

Anyway, she liked to say “duck” when we got to the animal on the farm. She liked ducks, or maybe the “quack quack” sound so much that she’d protest when we told her the farm already had a duck. She would say, “another duck,” to keep us quacking. The song and the quacks made car rides more palatable.

The song popped into my head recently when a friend told me that his second daughter was pregnant with their fourth grandchild. My friend has three daughters. His fourth grandchild is a girl, which means he’ll also have four granddaughters.

He was extremely pleased to share the news by email about “another granddaughter,” and he has every right to be. He is preparing for the seventh consecutive girl in his immediate family.

Then again, I couldn’t help thinking how he or the rest of the world would have felt if he had a grandson. Would that be a greater cause for celebration because they had a boy in their midst? I suspect he doesn’t, and didn’t, care.

For so many people, the gender doesn’t matter as long as the baby and mother (and somewhere in there, hopefully, the father) are healthy.

When my daughter was born, the big surprise was that I, unlike my parents or my older brother, could have a girl. As I told my wife, as the second of three boys and an uncle to two nephews, I expected to continue the male tradition.

My daughter started out proving me wrong and, thankfully, continues to do so regularly.

Once I’d broken the ‘all boys’ pattern, I was convinced my son was a girl, so, he, too, defied our expectations.

So, what is it with gender reveal parties? Is it another way to celebrate a coming birth? Is it a way to unveil one of the few mysteries left before birth?

In an era that increasingly understands and supports the transgender population, gender reveal parties seem anachronistic, celebrating a birth gender that may conflict with a person’s developing identity.

Like so many other events, such as a first birthday party that a child will never remember, a gender reveal party may be a way to celebrate the parents, giving them a chance to anticipate the coming birth and to imagine life as the parent of a boy or girl.

Gender reveal parties have received bad press because of the injuries from pyrotechnics and other exploding blue or pink streamers or images. But maybe beyond the danger from these explosions, the gender reveal also pigeon holes children into specific color patterns.

Don’t we want our children to think for themselves, even about their favorite colors, instead of limiting them to blue for boys or pink for girls?

Maybe, instead of colors or gender, we can celebrate the sounds of their heartbeat, the Alien-like moments when we can see their feet in their mom’s abdomen, or the foods their mothers crave during pregnancy.

Prev1...394041...146Next Page 40 of 146
TBR News Media is your local news and entertainment website.
We provide you with the latest breaking news and information for your community.
Contact us: [email protected]

Most Viewed

©