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Showing posts from March, 2008

Opening Day

We finally made it. The Yanks open at home against the Blue Jays. I swear, it's an eternity from the moment of the last Yankee game of the previous year to the moment of the first game of the new year. I've always loved baseball. Couldn't play it so well because I was like Napolean Dynamite, asking the ump to have the pitcher slow it down - they threw too fast and I was too afraid. Also, I judged a fly ball pretty poorly. I did have some success at an early age, playing fairly well in Little League and getting a treasure chest of memories from those days. I can name the starting lineup from those teams. Yet my baseball connections are all family-related. My entire family is made up of Yankee fans. There isn't a dissenter in the group and I cherish the memory of their clinching win in the '96 series because we were all together and slapping high fives when Girardi hit a triple. I get a different feeling on opening day too. There's the promise of a bright new seas

Three Squares

I suppose it's funny how a writer's mind works. I left the house this morning to get the newspaper. Quickly, a number of thoughts jumped into my head. First, I cursed the cold and the snow left on the ground. Secondly, I thought about global warming. Where the hell is it? Thirdly, Al Gore popped into my head as I considered what we are doing to the environment, and how it would make our grandchildren suffer. Finally, I thought about Sheryl Crowe who explained that in order to help save the environment we should use just three squares of toilet paper when we are done doing our business. All because I left the house to get the paper. Let's handle them one at a time. Yes, it's cold. It's Buffalo. We cry about our national image and do all sorts of things to let people in other cities know that this is a terrific place to live, but you don't have to be a polar bear to understand that it's freaking cold! And it snows! And 43-year-old men get sick of having to pu

After the Fire

As I was graduating college one of the big songs out was by Roger Daltrey of the Who - it was called "After the Fire...the Fire Still Burns." My group of friends used the song as a rallying cry because we wanted to stay in touch, keep our unbelievable connections intact, and burn on together as friends. (Yes, we were drunk when we sang it). In any regard I heard a guy speaking about fire the other day. He said we should all be candles. When we pass our flame to another candle, we don't lose anything in the translation. Not sure I want to be a candle, but it got me thinking. I have left hundreds of friends by the side of the road. It isn't my fault, and I certainly would remain friends with most of those people if situations had dictated, but time and responsibilities do get in the way. My current circle of friends includes two dogs, three young boys, my wife, a couple of drinking buddies, my brothers and sisters, a few friends from high school, two or three college bu

To-Do-Lists

I may mangle it, but I remember reading an Aristotle quote that said something like this: "We are what we do repeatedly; therefore excellence is a habit and not an act." Whatever the exact quote, it is something to live up to. I believe that doing things over and over, on-time and in line with expectations is what makes you successful - whether it be in a job, a relationship, or on a golf course. I know a great doctor who once told me that success will follow you if you work hard. (He's chronicled in House of Miracles). Yet why am I spouting off like Plato today? I suppose it is because I normally walk around with a checklist in my head. I told my wife that each day is an exercise in doing things I don't want to do, so I can get home and do some of the things I do want to do. Not that I hate my job - quite the opposite really. Not that I hate writing - I love it actually! Yet life sometimes gets lost in the mundane. We repeat certain tasks over and over and when we ar

Dead Certain

I bought Sirius Radio to listen to my boy Howard Stern - which I do on a regular basis. Lately, I've caught up with Jay Thomas who used to be Carla's hockey playing husband on Cheers. Both shows are semi-sophmoric by nature, but quality entertainment. Yet today Jay Thomas had an author on who had the pleasure of interviewing George Bush for a new book called Dead Certain. It was an interesting interview because the author explained what makes "W" tick. Some of the interesting facts learned: --- Bush isn't stupid. Yet he enjoys playing the regular guy who looks as if he stumbled into the presidency. --- Bush reads - he even "Read some Shakespeares" as he said. --- Bush is stubborn. He knows he's right and doesn't care for the people who thinks he's wrong. --- Bush is certainly in charge. He is not just a stooge for Cheney and Rove. He lets all around him know who makes the decisions. I certainly found the interview interesting and might even r

Fat People Are Jollier

Okay, so I have a couple of friends who's health are breaking down. I had a little conversation with myself the other day, saying that I would work on dropping a few pounds before I suffer from a breakdown. I'm lucky, I've been healthy. My heart is good, sugar levels are good, cholesterol is excellent. I sleep well and eat real well. Problem - I may eat too well. Keep the jokes to yourself. Anyway, I decided that I would try and eat sensible. I swear to God in my adult life I've treated dinner like a feeding frenzy. I eat so quickly that I get dizzy at times. My gameplan over the past week has been to eat like a human being. 3 meals - all sensible - no frenzied activity. Lots of water and nothing in between. I do a lot of walking, climbing and moving around during work - so I figure that eventually the pounds will drop off - and I'll feel better all the way around. One problem --- I'm freaking hungry. The hungrier I am, the meaner I am. The meaner I am, the more

So Simple

I absolutely hate reading the count of the dead soldiers in the Iraq war. Today's headlines screamed that we had hit the 4,000 mark. As I read the words, I wondered about how I missed the mark on accepting such loss of human life. I heard a celebrity remark that sacrifice is necessary to make this the country that it is. The celebrity remarked that great sacrifices were made by men and women during World War II and that anyone shouting out against the war in Iraq is truly unpatriotic and should move elsewhere. How did I get to be so simple? I am not unpatriotic. I am simply trying to understand. The case made for going to war evaded me. I am too simple to understand the ramifications of leaving now. If I were to state a case on why we should leave (so we don't lose more soldiers) I am thought to be a coward. Do we continue to lose our young people now even though the reasons why we went have been proven to be false? I don't know. Perhaps I am just naive, simple, and confuse

Holy Saturday

Believe it or not, I was an altar boy for at least five years. From the 2nd grade through the 6th grade, I served mass faithfully on a regular rotation. My brother was one of my partners in a long-standing group. Even when I left the Catholic school, I served another year, making guest appearances as the priest's helper. On break from college one year, my good buddy Al, and I saw that the priest didn't have any help one mass, and we donned the old black and white (hardly fit) and served one last time. During Holy Week the assignments were rough. If you were assigned to the Good Friday Mass, it came complete with the Stations of the Cross and what seemed like hour after hour of deep-knee bends, dousings of HolyWater, and endless prayer. I kind of miss it. Holy Week has unfortunately blended in with the rest of parent-life responsibility. I will certainly be at church on Sunday, but I won't be helping the priest, I'll be scolding my kids to behave. Last night, I asked my

Mini-Me

Yesterday was the first day of the NCAA Tourney. All through my life I've treated the first two days as a holiday of sorts. I gather my pools, get a red pen, a blue pen, and a pencil so that I can keep track as each game ends. I'm not sure it's the basketball or the statistics that I love so much. In any regard, my wife thinks I'm a geek. Well, I have news for her: there's another geek in the midst. Last night I sat on the couch watching the games with 2 of 3 of my sons - the other boy shares my wife's opinion. Anyway, as one of the games ended, my 7-year-old gathered up his sheets. With deft precision, he began circling the names of the teams with a blue pen if the pooler got it right, and with a red pen if the pooler got it wrong. Sam was sitting almost on my lap and I had a great view of the concentration on his face as he reviewed the pools. he was excited, happy, and so full of life, and truth be told, he looked a little like a geek. In his face, I saw my o

Go Away

A few weeks ago I was exposed to grainy footage of President Bush telling jokes about the Iraq war. He even sang a country song about his failed policies. It made me want to throw up. He can't sing. Two weeks ago, he did a tap dance as he waited for someone to meet with him. He can't dance either. This week, he is marking the five-year anniversary of the Iraq war by explaining that it was a grand idea. It's been four years since he declared that as an accomplished mission. He doesn't look back very well, either. The problem I have is that no one, in their right mind, has been listening to him for some time. Check the approval ratings of Bush and his partner in crime, Cheney. People grew weary of their act, eight years too late. The other night, my wife was asking me if I'd seen Bush talk about the economy. I hadn't. "It makes me sad to look at him," my wife said. "All of the dead soldiers. The failing economy, God, it's been awful." I cou

As Good As it Gets

I absolutely loved that movie with Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt. Yet I loved it for a very different reason than everyone else. If you remember right, Nicholson was a professional writer who was very set in his ways. Actually he was borderline psychotic. Problem is, I saw myself in his character. I have all of my CD's set in order of favorite artists. When we take a trip, I have the songs ready to go. It doesn't matter what anyone else might want to hear, I try and set the mood. I am extremely regimented and if something throws me off schedule for the day, I become a bit edgy. And yet, I was saved from a life of living like Nicholson did - only by children and the general chaos that comes with having a family. Those around me have learned to accept my shortcomings, and my wife actually plays right into it, reminding me if there is an unwashed dish in the sink or a full laundry basket. I suppose the point of the whole blog today is to understand that I could have been Nicholson

To My Beautiful Wife - Happy Birthday

Considering I wrote a blog to acknowledge my dog Melky's birthday, I figured.... Yes, my wife is another year older - many of you reading along have to be wondering how and why she puts up with my shit. I wonder myself sometimes. You see, Kathy has the absolute misfortune of having her birthday right on cue with March Madness. At least there aren't any games tonight. Yet my buddies are coming over to pick the team names out of a hat. We do it every Monday before the start of the tourney and I was a little afraid to tell her that we weren't going to shift the night. Kathy laid a bit of a guilt-trip on me, and then said, "I don't care. They can come over." That's a good wife. We didn't have much of a celebration.I did make dinner and clean-up, but she reminded me that it doesn't count because I'd have done it anyway. Some flowers, a card, and a couple of "your getting really old" from the kids. And it was enough. So, here we are some 15

Post #100 - Desiderata

Desiderata by a man named Max Ehrmann. "Go placidity amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there is in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees or the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with you
So, we've all seen the photo of the call girl on the yacht. We can all probably recite her various names and what she did prior to her meetings with the governor. Hell, we will soon know what happened at each of those meetings. Quick - who invented the artificial heart? We were introduced to the whole cast of characters surrounding Anna Nicole Smith. We all know who fathered her child, even though there was a long list of names. We know her lawyer, and her poor daughter. We know how and why her son died tragically. Quick - who wrote The Great Gatsby. We all have followed Britney in and out of rehab centers. We've seen her crotch shot a half a dozen times. We love the footage of her kissing Madonna (I do anyway) and we can't wait to see her on the sitcom. Quick - name the doctor who saved the life of Buffalo Bills football player Kevin Everett. Or name the doctor who saved the life of hockey player Richard Zednik. Or name even one firefighter from September 11th. Or name the

"Got a Dollar in my pocket...

.... and there ain't a cloud up above." Of course, that is a Springsteen line from "All that Heaven Will Allow." I thought of it a lot today as I listened to the backlash from the Spitzer scandal. I thought of it because I was trying to put some sort of positive spin on what I was hearing. A couple of radio hosts were saying that every man cheats on his marriage. I believe that the exact quote was something like, "Sixty percent of marriages end in divorce, and the other forty percent of the men are miserable and cheat." My feelings on the matter are contained in previous posts. I don't think anyone has the right to cheat. I consider it disgraceful. Of course people make mistakes, but not over ten years time. Once might constitute a mistake or a lack of judgement. One hundred times is a whole 'nother thing. A few years back, my father went into the hospital complaining of chest pains. Every one of his children within a hundred mile-radius showed up,

What does $4,000 buy?

I must be doing something wrong. I just can't imagine paying a woman $4,000 for just 4 hours of her time unless she's representing me in court - or selling me a car. Yes, what is most mind-boggling about the Spitzer case is the amount of money he forked over for the four hour session. What did they do for four hours? I was talking with a friend of mine - we both eat very well. "She'd have to be covered in barbecue sauce," my buddy said. 4 grand? Absolutely, barbecue sauce, and a few dozen martini's and a round of golf, and linguine and clam sauce with the big prawns thrown in. And a Yankee game with seats behind home plate, an hour of gambling at a fine casino. Hell, a couple of cuban cigars, a book of postage stamps, and she'd have to fill my car with gas. Okay, maybe I'm getting a little carried away with that. The gas would put me over the top. The time would also be a slight problem. What would we possibly do for the last 3 hours and 53 minutes? Pl

BUMPED BY CLIENT #9

If this isn't just perfect. I wrote House of Miracles, partly because I am disturbed by all of the negative news stories. I wanted to put a positive spin on healthcare and to tell the stories of some unbelievable working professionals. I was all set for a big interview on Sirius Radio - Channel 110 - a New York City show - and I got bumped! I got bumped so that NYC could continue to take apart the story of client#9 - Gov. Spitzer. What a life! I'll let you know when the good news is re-scheduled - it'll probably take awhile to get to the bottom of the prostitution ring!

Power

Thank God I'm not the governor. What an idiot! I was actually shocked by the story, but probably shouldn't have been. With great power comes great stupidity. Of course, the backlash is that we will now hear every sordid detail. I was listening to Barbara Walters radio show yesterday and she was concerned with whether or not Spitzer's wife should forgiuve him. So, I tried the experiment at home. "Would you forgive me if I paid four grand for a prostitute?" I asked my wife. "Would you forgive me, if I did?" she shot back. "Male or female?" I asked. My wife rolled her eyes and I had my answer. Of course, you can not forgive such betrayal if your marriage is one that is based on trust and respect. I don't want to pry into Spitzer's situation, but it seems to me like he's in more hot water with his spouse than the voting public. Yet what can possibly drive you to such activity? I'm reading a very thought-provoking book about relation

Upcoming Events

Hi there! Just a note on the writing career and some personal appearances. On Tuesday March 11 at 3 PM, I will be on Sirius Satellite Radio at 3 PM to talk about House of Miracles and the Women & Children's Hospital. It is a 30-minute interview with Pete Dominick - and it should be a lot of fun as we discuss the hospital, Counting on a Miracle, and the wonderful people who take care of our children. Please listen along. On Friday, March 14 - I will be at Barnes & Noble at 4401 Transit Road in Clarence. I will be signing copies of Counting on a Miracle, Nobody's Home, and House of Miracles. Hope to see you there. 7-9 PM. On April 7th, I will be at Barnes & Noble @ 1565 Niagara Falls Blvd.from 6 to 9 PM. Iwill be speaking about House of Miracles and The Women & Children's Hospital of Buffalo. There are two other appearances to be scheduled - The North Collins Public Library and a signing at the Women & Children's Hospital of Buffalo. Come on out! Sale

Rubber Tree Plant

I love the Woody Allen quote: "I was going to buy a book on positive-thinking, but then I figured what the hell good would that do." I have a 14-year-old sports nut. Last night at dinner, he was overwhelmed with the idea that the Sabres were on, Canisius was playing, and Niagara followed it up with a game at 10 PM. He explained to all of us that it was going to be a night filled with joy as all three teams, full of his favorite beasts, were going to win. They all lost. Being a lifelong pessimist and an eternally frustrated Sabres and Bills booster, I showed him the front page of the sports, and he quickly left the room. I have always written stories about an underdog who overcomes the odds. I believe that people love such stories. How can you watch Rocky without feeling all choked up, as Stallone wins one for the good guys? Yet much of the time, In Real Life , the loser stays the loser and the giants win the fight. An ant can't really move a rubber tree plant, can he? Yet

42 Million Reasons

Are you kidding me? 42 million dollars to send out letters that alert you of the coming tax check? Did we all really need a letter that tells us to cash the check when we get it? I honestly believe that most people could have figured it out. The news of the tax rebate has been on television, radio, the internet, and in every newspaper in America. Why did we need a letter? What did you do with your letter? I read the first paragraph, thought - "Yeah, I knew this," and tossed it away. I think of all the good things that 42 million bucks could have went for - like feeding people who don't have enough to eat or education - so that teachers don't have to buy their own supplies, or breast cancer research, or AIDS research, or finding an alternative fuel source, or global warming studies.... anything. Hell, we could have even sent it to Iraq to be with the rest of our money. I have a college buddy who went to work for the US Government - he loves to tell the story of orderin

Happy Birthday Melky

Back in 1996, I visited the SPCA thinking that I could browse the dog cages and walk away without bringing home a dog. I was called to the last cage, by an attendant, who told me of Max, a Golden Retriever-Golden Lab Mix who was about to be gassed. "That's the best dog in the place," the attendant whispered. "We took him from a home where he was being abused. If you can look, there are cigarette burns on his groin." Max was as good as in the car. Some eleven years later, unable to walk, Max -the best sixty dollars I ever spent-was ready for doggy heaven. Yet I had to drive him to the vets and put him down. To say that was a sad day would be a huge understatement. I will never forget those last few moments and the complete and utter sadness that shook me to the core. I questioned everything about life and death, and my biggest problem was in explaining it to the kids. My wife was dead-set against another dog. We still had, Shadow, our black Lab, and Kathy figured

Checking the Headlines

--- This just in - two mothers were arrested for fighting at Chuck E. Cheese. It seems that one mother became enraged because a 9-year-old boy was hogging an arcade game. She showed her son how to handle conflict by popping the other mother in the face. Charges are pending. --- Of course, another day, another mass shooting - five people dead in West Palm Beach, Florida. What the hell are you getting mad at in that type of weather? Seriously, you talk about just accepting violence. How many mass shootings is that since the start of the new year? I'm guessing at least five. --- The Clinton-Obama race is heating up and it made me laugh outloud when I was listening to a call-in show on a conservative station and the caller blamed Bill Clinton for all that has gone wrong in the last 8 years. He reasoned that the prior president makes the mess for the incoming one. Seems to me that whoever wins this election is in line for a lifetime of pain. --- Pitchers and catchers finally reported an

Early to Rise

When I was growing up, weekend mornings weren't all that they could be. My father used to rile us up and out of bed to start work on one project or another. I can distinctly remember what it felt like to be chased out of bed, wondering why we couldn't get the work done on our own schedule. The reason, of course, was because my father was an early-riser. I'm not talking 6 AM early either. Very often he'd get out of bed around three and sit at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, playing cards, and plotting his day - and as it turned out - ours too. I remember thinking that when I made the rules, it would all be different. Everyone would stay up until 3 AM and sleep until noon. Life would be grand. It didn't turn out that way. I have one kid who likes to stay in bed on the weekends, and as he sleeps, I struggle with the desire to rip him out of bed and put him to work. I haven't done it to him, yet, but it probably is on the way. There's no

Headin' into Town

I've always loved a good old Western. I would watch Bonanza with my father and brothers and get all caught up in the excitement. Hands down, the more exciting episodes seemed to center around a trip into town to pick up supplies. I remember one episode where Little Joe and Hoss ran into all sorts of trouble, ended up in a knock-down fight, drank some whiskey, and picked up the pretty girls. (How Hoss hooked-up at all is another story, but you had to love the big oaf). I thought of this today as I trudged the 1/4 into town to pick up supplies for the homestead. We needed rawhides for the dogs, something for dinner, and drink boxes for the kids. From the moment I opened my eyes, I knew that it was my responsibility. Early on in our marriage my wife explained that grocery store makes her sick. What she wants is what she gets. I didn't run across any bad guys. I didn't have a shot of whiskey for the ride. I certainly didn't get near any pretty girls. Instead, I got a sneer