Thoughts of a Common Man

Writing fiction is controlling all the characters in a made-up world where obstacles are met, and hopefully overcome. It is an exercise in imagining situations and working your way through them with all of the flaws of the human existence thrown in for good measure. I've always found that writing fiction is actually an exercise that leaves me feeling exhausted, but thrilled to have taken the ride. Reading fiction is somehow just as freeing and I've done that since I learned how to comprehend what I was looking at. I've read everything from Steinbeck to Stephen King and back again. As luck might have it, I'm reading Stephen King right now - Duma Key - one that slid by me a couple of years back. As I've read this one, I thought about the fact that King had suffered a horrible accident back a couple of years when he was hit by a car, whose driver was supposedly trying to restrain a dog. I can remember thinking that even he couldn't think up such story, but somewher...

Not exactly the good news I was looking for, but a homer is a homer, right. Yet I need to spout off a little bit. I see that Obama is looking for some answers on the Health Care Issue and there are critics lined up to shoot down whatever the hell he says. Let me tell you, I slept nine days on the floor of an ICU that was equipped with just three plastic chairs. When we asked to get the room vacuumed out the maintenance lady was aghast - "I don't know where there's a vacuum." The staffs are short...the cost of medicine obscenely high. Insurance rejects claims without conscience. We were told that there may not be a bed available. To get the care you need, you may have to jump through hoops and that's not to mention the poor people who may not be able to get health care at all because their freaking jobs are gone and insurance is priced through the roof. I've never really believed that anger is a sign of weakness - I actually like being angry from time to time, ...

I have an 11-year-old son. Let me tell you, he's basically incapable of handling most things on his own - Kathy still gets his clothes out for him, and he only recently began showering by himself. He's a wonderful kid in every way, but minor tasks are somehow beneath him. He asks me each night to get him some ice cream. He can retrieve the bowl, find the scoop, and reach the ice cream. He can do all of this, but he asks me to help, and usually I do. I bring all of this up because the 11-year-old in PA. shot his father's girlfriend, and I just can't fathom it ever happening. If it were Jake involved I would have had to help him find the gun, load the gun, and pull the trigger. Which is fortunate! I don't want my children having access to guns, or even the thought that they can do such a thing. I feel so badly for that family, and I pray for the child, but I must ask the question - should an 11-year-old have gun access? I've shot a gun once in my life. It was a .4...

Every time the phone rings I cringe. The mailman hasn't seemed to bring anything but bills. My e-mails are requests for my time, and I just don't seem to have the time I used to. The Yankees are dropping like flies in front of the congressional inquiries. A plane crashed, a chimp ate a woman's face, an 11-year-old shot his would be stepmother, the world banks crashed again, Marshawn got arrested, our hockey goalie sprained his ankle to top all of the news, all the time. This morning I headed to the hospital and at 6 AM with the paper screaming the bad news to me, I got stuck in an elevator between the 4th and 5th floor - I was accompanied by a doctor and a nurse - both who were looking at their watches as though they'd be late. "It's not so bad," the nurse said. "We can relax for a minute and plan our day." I wasn't ready for the optimistic look at our predicament. "Unless we plummet four stories to our deaths," I said. "My God...

With my brother in the hospital I'm meeting doctors and nurses and an entire staff of people who worked hard in high school and college while I was out drinking beer and causing trouble. I'm so glad those geeks were studying. Then I went to the tax man over the weekend and he got me set up to get a refund. He's a geeky little guy, but he knows his numbers. Aren't all accountants geeky by the way?(That's a shot to Lisa). I'm so happy my taxman and yours wasn't at those frat parties where I ate the goldfish. (Lisa is smarter than me by the way). My father once told me that 90% of the people I meet would be less intelligent than me. He may have been shooting high because I'm his son, but he finished his advice by saying - "Stay away from that other 10% until you need them for something." This is the same man who told me that he wouldn't trust anyone who wouldn't drink with him, so you see a pattern. Anyway, I'm just grateful for those ...

Sunday is a great day. There's church and pasta. There are meatballs, before and after we eat. Maybe a ballgame and a long nap. What's better than that? I recall my father making the sauce each Sunday morning. I remember standing next to him when I was about three or four and saying, "Dad we should have pasta every Sunday." He just laughed. To steal a line from my great brother-in-law Chuck - I've had pasta every Sunday since I developed teeth. This week too. Of course, my father made the world's greatest sauce, but my mother also got real good at it. Eventually, all the kids learned how to do it right. I don't even worry about my sauce not turning out good anymore - it's always dead-on and my in-laws have done a good job of requesting a batch for every gathering since I joined their family. I don't mind, either, because I know that I'll have a fall-back plan if there is just turkey or chicken or one of those healthy types of things on the men...

The ebbs and flows of a serious injury and a long road of recovery nearly rendered me useless on Friday. I was seriously fighting the fact that I was still fighting strong, believing that it was too long to be in crisis mode. Life is difficult when you're always on, always appreciating all that we should appreciate, and feeling there and with it. That's why Gilligan's Island and The Brady Bunch and Deal or No Deal are popular - people need to put their brains on low gear from time-to-time. So, really scuffling, I returned to the hospital bedside again today, and it being Saturday, I was able to be there with a couple of siblings instead of alone for a shift. My sister Carrie and brother Jim joined me at Jeff's side. My sister Corinne and brother John were also around through the day. Yet there was a moment... a big moment. Carrie and I stood on either side of the bed. Jeff's eyes darted back and forth as we spoke to him, and softly, Carrie touched his cheek. There w...

Can you imagine? 14 kids? How in the hell would you even remember their names? Would you have to count them every time you left the room? And changing diapers? That has to be a little like the guys who paint the Golden Gate Bridge - you finish it and then just start over. A story broke yesterday that the woman who had 8 at once - like a Cocker Spaniel - is going to get a little financial help. They are talking thousands of dollars a month. Was that what the woman was after? Or does she sincerely believe that she has enough love for fourteen children? I grew up in a family with five siblings - we are all as tight as hell - but man, there were moments. I can't imagine how the dinner table is going to look for those 14 in about ten years. We had a classic dinner where Corinne and John got into an argument and Corinne tossed a fork that stuck in the corner of John's eye. No damage, but man he was shocked. And who can forget the mashed potato war between my mother and brothers? It w...

Man, I'm pretty sure that the way I want to go doesn't have anything to do with having my face ripped off by a 200-pound Internet surfing, wine-drinking chimp who happens to be hopped-up on Xanax. When reading the particulars of that story it certainly occurs to me that you can take an animal out of the jungle, but that doing so is absolutely risky business. Look at that poor bastard who was attacked by the Lion in the Vegas show a few years back. I saw an interview with him after the attack and he said that he still loves the lion. I was attacked by our family dog back when I was about 18-years old - it was a boxer mix that was an absolutely wonderful dog until he got hit by a car and something was knocked loose - he bit me after I had the gall to interrupt the dump he was taking in the middle of our garage. All right, maybe I had it coming to me - I'd probably be pissed if someone interrupted me in such a state -but let me tell you, that dog ripped me up. He went for my t...

If God gives you lemons...then make some lemonade. I've always hated that saying. It sounds like it should be coming from the mouth of your grandmother, in a sing-song voice. Yet I woke up thinking about it today because one of my greatest friends told me that my blog has been bringing him down. He reads it to laugh and be comfortable. As a writer, I've always felt a certain responsibility to entertain, but I haven't been feeling like much of an entertainer. Life is lie a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get. Good old Tom Hanks. Great movie, and a pretty profound thought, huh? The more you think about some of those sayings, the more they ring true, right? I've spent a lot of my adult life watching and waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's dropped on me a few times, but you know what, I'm still positive. That's right! The all-time negative thinker is positive. What I know for sure: The Yanks will win the World Series again before ...

All right then - still not quite feeling chipper, but I'd be remiss if I didn't reflect on the story of the 12-year-old knocking up his 15-year-old girlfriend. Alfie was explaining that there are other guys laying claim to having slept with the love of his life, but that the baby had his eyes, and anyone else having planted their flag, so to speak, is a damn liar. The girl explained that their physical relationship started out of a deep love for one another, and an unbelievable urge to take their relationship to another level. Are you kidding me? At 13 I didn't know what end of me was up, let alone trying to figure out what the heck was going on with the girl down the street. Taking the relationship to another level? I don't even know what the hell that means now. They asked Alfie how he would support the child financially. He asked what financially means. Thirteen? Deep love? Adding physical love because they had tapped out the emotional side of love? I wasn't emot...

I spent a lot of my work time driving today. It was a crisp, clear day with a bright sun shining in my face as I drove. I kept moving the visor to keep the sun off my face as I drove, and I thought way too much. Howard Stern was in repeats. I couldn't listen to sports radio because all they were talking about was Madonna's boyfriend, and I just didn't have the heart for Bruce today. So I fiddled with the radio, struggled to keep my mind focused on my work, and contemplated the sadness that comes with having a family member in the ICU unit. Moment after moment, I considered how sad I felt, and considering that I'm not one to dwell on sadness, I began telling my stupid mind to shut-up and leave me alone. When Jake was sick a wise friend of mine told me that I needed to chase all negative thoughts with a prayer, and that I needed to focus my energies in a positive manner. It's sound advice and they are words that I've taken to heart. Usually it works. Today, though...

We took the boys to the Hunter's Hope Celebration for kids yesterday and they ran straight into Thurman Thomas and Jim Kelly. Doing so enabled me to look into what football stars can do for the psyche of a community. While I signed books, I thought of my brother in the hospital bed, and it occurred to me that getting him a signed ball might possibly bring him a bit of pleasure when he was feeling better. So, Kathy did the ground work on getting Thurman to sign the ball, and Jill Kelly made sure that Jim put a second Hall-of-Famers name on the ball. For good measure, Jake also caught a pass from Big Jim, and signed a few copies of Counting on a Miracle to boot. Yet the highlight of my night was when a few people stopped by to see me - including my longtime friends, Diane and Karl, and they offered a hug and some words of encouragement. A deaf, leukemia patient - who is now in remission - also stopped to say hello and give me a thumbs up on my books. She had visited with me last year...

All right, it doesn't get any lower than sitting in a hospital ICU Waiting Room, watching the coverage of a downed aircraft where there is massive loss of life. Each talking head conveying as much sympathy as possible as the horrifying moment is relived time and time again. We are introduced to people who've suffered the loss of a loved one as they are interviewed and the pain oozes through the picture tube and falls right there into our laps. I watched the coverage with my brother, Jim, and each time that I looked to him for a reaction, he simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. One time I believe he said, "Can you imagine?" We've all had that fear. The last time I flied it entered my mind that things sometimes go wrong. In that instance I was thinking of Sully and his heroic effort on the Hudson. Next time, I will consider those who lost their lives on Thursday night. As I returned home from the hospital last night I saw a plane in the sky making its d...

People have been asking me how I've been - well this photo should show you exactly how I feel. Then this morning I wake up to the news of the airplane crash just 15 miles from the house, and it occurred to me that all I need now is an infestation of locusts to complete the past month. Why does it feel as if everything is raining down? How I would kill for an evening of watching one stupid sitcom after another until I grew tired and went to bed. How I would love to say, man, "I'm bored." Kathy asked, "What do you have going today?" I answered, "Heartache." Yet I will take a three-hour break tomorrow to go to the Hunter's Hope Celebration at the Bills Fieldhouse - I've told you all a million times that it's a great event -and not just because I'll have my books there and their sales will benefit the Hunter's Hope Foundation - but also because - this year, I'm feeling as though I need to see some friendly faces and perhaps trad...

There's one line of about a hundred in the Springsteen album that really hits my heart - and it's simply, The Beauty in the Neighborhood , it's in the song, "This Life" where the narrator sings of the bottom line and what is truly important. The song is so crafted that when Bruce arrives at the beauty in the neighborhood line, the listener is just looking for the punch in the gut that will get the point across. I've lived so much life in the last two weeks, swinging on a pendulum of love and sadness, and hopefulness and despair. One minute rising in faith and determination and feeling that I will soon crash down in a world of hurt and despair. I've returned to a normal work schedule and have put in a couple of long days where I have been forced to stand in front of large groups of people and perform. I have a reputation of being a funny bastard, so I've had to dig deep to get there. Yet I'm an attention-whore, so I've been able to pull it off. ...

...that I don't normally have. In this world of instant gratification, in fact, patience is something that is lost for a lot of people. We want what we want when we want it, but life doesn't always work that way. I wish I was more patient. I actually dislike impatient people, but I'm one of them. I can remember being young, and going with my father to a bank to cash my paycheck. He was going to, reluctantly, wait in the car, as I ran in and quickly did the banking. Of course, there was one teller and about eight people in the line. The teller didn't set the world on fire either. I remember being sick about the whole thing as I imagined my father drumming his fingers off the steering wheel, swearing at me, at the bank, at the bus driver going by, and at the sun for going down so soon. Yet I figured that I was safe as he couldn't leave the car and embarrass me by screaming in the bank lobby - except he did. "Bah!" He yelled out. (Everyone who knows a Fazzola...

Not one bit. I don't care if he did steroids, ate spinach, or ate hot dogs and drank his ass off like Babe Ruth. I don't care if he dates Madonna, Bella Donna, or Boy George. I don't care if it costs him a billion dollars to pay off his ex-wife, or that he sits shirtless on a park bench. I would like to see him hit 40 homers and help bring a championship back to the Bronx, but as OJ taught me, it's not great to have millionaires who won the genetic lottery as idols of mine. You know who my idols are? My brothers and sisters who have given up their lives and their sanity to help my ailing brother. The nurses and doctors who are working to help them out. My friends who are calling, bringing cookies and brownies, and just being there to lean on. And this isn't just a one-time, I'm in a crisis mode kind of thing. If someone were selling shirts with the name of a doctor or a neurosurgeon on them, I'd buy them and wear them as a uniform. I have an A-Rod Yankee jer...

I grew up in a neighborhood where other kids were free to come and go as they pleased. Up and down the road in our small town, we got together for baseball games, hockey games, and dinner. Through circumstance, we all became close, and when life came charging at us, we stayed tight and vowed to be forever friends. Not that we aren't, but a lot of days passed, since I last laid eyes on my buddy, Tom, and his sister Cherri. Unfortunately, our reunion took place in a hospital waiting room. I fully expected Tom to greet me in the manner that he did - "Man, you look like shit," he said. "And it's not just because your brother is sick." We shook hands for a long moment - not one of those obligatory hand pumps - but one that held deep meaning and carried a world of emotions through days, weeks, months, years, and for always. "You were always an ugly bastard," I answered. We didn't spend much time on the Glory Days - a couple of stories mixed in with q...

The week gone past feels like it lasted about two years, but during the course of the week, I considered the statement that at every disaster scene there is a piece of heaven there. We were all reminded of this during 9/11 as we considered the courage of the men and women who went into a burning building. On a personal level, I was reminded of this all week long, through the calm reassuring voices of friends who called or visited, or just stuttered through an 'I'm sorry.' The Face of God shined bright in my life this week through friends of Jeff who visited with brownies (thank-you Andrea - I had four), or brought salt-filled snacks (pepperoni is always a winner John) and just sat with us, talking, commiserating and filling us with hope. And yet, life moved on without us - Obama had a few candidates withdrawn, the bail-out fight rages on, more people lost their jobs, Michael Phelps turned out to be a better swimmer than role model, and the Steelers won again. I hardly notic...

From time to time I've used this blog to say that life can be a shit sandwich - well, recently we have been left to polish a turd as the expression goes - and we are working hard at doing so. My brother brought about $50 worth of donuts to the nursing staff at the hospital - in a situation where it is easy to get frustrated with those that are helping you - he just wanted to say thanks. Jeff told the nurses that I'm a writer - so I brought a couple of books in to the nurse who was attending him at night - "It's hard to put the book down" the nurse told me - "Well, you better put it down," I said - "He needs you in there." She laughed - "I only read when he's sleeping." I'm blessed with a family that really can bring it to lighten the mood - my brother had a field day with my inability to blow up an air mattress and documented it for all to see in the journal we are keeping for Jeff to write down our thoughts. Yet - facing forw...

I titled a blog with this a few weeks back...not sure what I was thinking, but the magic and power of love is certainly not lost on me. In the middle of the night last night, I looked into my brother's eyes and begged him to remain calm and just rest. For a long second, he protested with his eyes, but all at once, he resigned himself to the situation at hand. "You just need rest," I whispered, "and it will work out." Jeff still looked skeptical, but then those eyes dissolved into the purest look of love, sadness, resignation, and hope. It was a long look where we just locked on and held it right there. "Have I ever steered you wrong?" I asked. "Couple of times," he whispered, and I laughed. He's not yet up to smiling, but I know he was. "So, eyes closed and rest," I said. He waved at me with all of the fingers on his left hand, closed his eyes, and the look was out of my line of vision, but will never, ever leave my mind. Men an...

Thank you to all who have called to ask about Jeff. Just know that he's battling hard and holding his own in this fight. He's awake from time-to-time and knew Bruce was on last night. He gave me a whispered Bruuuuuceand a woo-hoo during Glory Days. When I told him Bruce had done good - his whispered, "He did real good." Thank you to those who continue to keep him first and foremost in your prayers - those prayers are working - God is up there saying 'Who's this Jeff Fuzzy?' - Let's continue to let him know! Thank you for the calls - if we don't get back to you - it's not that we don't love you, but that it's hard to verbalize. Thank you for the Internet, Al Gore, the updates are easy because you can't hear the sadness. Thank you for each moment that passes that centers him on the path to healing. Not quite where we want to be, but still taking those steps to clear the tress. Thank you.

The sun was bright today in the sky - I noticed it at about 3 PM. Actually, I first noticed a ray of sunlight at 3 AM and again at 6 AM when I had animated exchanges with Jeff. There's plenty of work left to do, but I did notice the sun. There is so much darkness to wade through for those few bright moments of sunshine, but I am reminded of the need to do the wading with my heart in the right place, and my mind centered on what needs to be done. I will see Bruce at the Bowl. That will certainly give me 12 minutes of respite, and I will be watching because I know Jeff is going to want to know how our brother in music handled the big spotlight. Yet as the sun breaks through a little bit, and God shows us the treasures in His box of life, I know in my heart that the miracle I'm counting on is right there for the taking. Today it feels as though I've grabbed it from the dark. Keep praying for Jeff. The light is shining on him. Help us keep it centered right there.