Thoughts of a Common Man

The Stones have a great upbeat song called - you guessed it - Sad, Sad, Sad. I was listening to it this morning when it occurred to me that sadness is something I never really did very well. Obsessive Compulsive? Certainly. Anger? Got that down. Happy? Spent most every day really happy with life. Silly? Sure. Depressed? once in awhile, but I never really had to deal with sad for an extended length of time. So, there I was, in the parking lot at Wilson Farms, thinking of getting a coffee, listening to Mick, and wondering why I never was able to handle being sad. I thought it through - considered that it was okay to be sad, but that it was okay to be happy too. Send me a sign that I'm thinking the right way , I thought. The song ended. I dug around for loose change for the coffee, and the van beside me moved, leaving me with the above glimpse of happiness. Don't need to tell you who loved Heineken Light now, do I?

The University @ Buffalo Center for the Arts is an unbelievable place to see a concert. I didn't know that until last night. My love affair with all music performed by Mark Knopfler has continued for the past 35 years or so. It started with Dire Straits, continued on through every single one of his great solo albums. It peaked last night. For one reason or another I felt weird entering the hall last night. Knopfler was the last act that I really wanted to see in concert, but on a Wednesday night, feeling beat down, with a crowd of people who all had grey in their hair? How good could it be? Well, as Knopfler himself might say you get lucky now and then. The first song that ever captured me as a fan of Dire Straits was Romeo & Juliet . Knopfler, sitting on a stool, because he can barely move after a motorcycle accident of a few years ago, sang it out. And I can't do the talks, like they talk on the tv And I can't do the love songs like the way their meant to be I can'

Howard Stern is playing a recent interview conducted by Larry King. Seems the old man was interviewing a woman who was raped and her story went like this: "We stopped at a fast-food place and grabbed some food, and we were in the car, eating it when he slammed my face off the dashboard, and then violently raped me." The woman was crying and gasping as she told the story. Know what Larry King asked? This is priceless. "What happened to the food?" I can't even look at the man now without laughing. I've also heard him interview Paul and Ringo and get their names wrong. How many people don't know Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney? Yet that's not even the best part. The man is on his seventh marriage. Seven! Don't you figure you'd eventually quit? Why in the hell would you break back into Shawshank that many times? And the 7th marriage is in trouble. Seems his wife has been sleeping with their kids little league coach, while he has been stepping out

On a day when Ryan Howard of the Phillies signed a $125 million contract to hit a ball for the next five years; and the Boston Red Sox gave $5 to a Cuban defector; the Yankees visited the White House to celebrate last year's championship; and the Sabres were eliminated from the playoffs for the 41st time - much to the chagrin of a passionate fan base. George Steinbrenner once said that there are two kinds of owners in professional sports - those who want to win and those who want to make money. Unfortunately in Buffalo the owners of the sports teams are about mind-control and money-grabbing. And people wonder why I've become cynical about the march of our teams. Think of it - here in Buffalo, a hard-working town, the Sabres and Bills have sold nearly every seat to every event for the past twenty or so years. There has never been a championship. Yet each year the fan base does the 'little train that could dance' and complains about money spent by others. "We spent t

My wife is doing dat, der learning thing, and as she learns, she educates us along the way. It is actually quite interesting, but never one to let things pass quietly, I thought I would share some of my knowledge too. "Did you know that America is the only country where they have tornadoes?" I asked. My statement was greeted with looks of skepticism by Kathy and the smarty-pants principal that were listening. "It's true. I read about it while ago." At the golf course, the guy collecting the money started talking about Cliff Clavin from Cheers for some reason. Perhaps due to my name, I'm thinking. "Did you know that America is the only country where they have tornadoes?" I asked. Another buddy looked shocked. "That is true," the old man behind the counter said. "Only in the United States." Feeling pretty good about things and ready to shock the world with my tidbit of knowledge, I settled in front of the television as my wife pre

My wife invited a visitor over for a sleepover and at just about seven o'clock on Friday night our newborn great niece, Layla, was dropped by the house with a bag filled with extra diapers. Despite the fact that she was there and I was there she had a better chance of changing my diaper than I did hers. Not that I'm not happy for my niece and nephew, who now have two small children, and need a night of peace every now and then, but I've officially closed the door on all things baby. "Oh, I want one," Kathy cooed as she held the baby out for my inspection. "Isn't she beautiful? Can we have another one? Do you want to hold her?" "First of all, she's beautiful; secondly, you're spade, we can't have another one, thirdly if by some miracle you did become pregnant, I'd be in the garage looking for a low-hanging beam; and lastly, I don't want to hold her because babies scare me." Together with my buddy John we began a discussio

There's no mistaking the fact that I've been at a crossroads for a long time now, trying to figure out which direction I'd like to run off in. I've done the lions share of the work on the next book, and have been sort of holding off jumping into the one after that, sure that I don't want to go through it again. Yet the thing is: a department head with the local police asked if I would help tell the story about officers who lost their lives in the line of duty - it would be a sort of House of Miracles type non-fiction book that could really help the families of the victims. Right in the wheelhouse so to speak, and a story that could really get me moving forward again. But the work involved! Do I really want to work more again? I've had a job since I was 14. Started on a farm, graduated to a grocery store, spent four years at drink camp at Gannon University, got a job, and have not had a longer than 5 day stretch off since, fitting in the ten books in between. (N

I don't know quite what to make of the Steelers QB. I'm thinking he may not be the brightest of bulbs. First he has the motorcycle accident and a lot of people tried to coach him on how he has too much to lose by driving around without a helmet. Now being that I don't have a motorcycle, couldn't possibly keep one balanced, and have no desire to do so, I wonder about his motivations. No helmet? That important to be seen? That invigorating to have your hair blowing in the wind? (Been awhile since my hair was blowing all over the place). Okay, just a kid on a bike - no big deal - hold your breath and hope he doesn't kill himself. Then there's a rape allegation. She said...he said...blah, blah, rich and famous, she's a gold digger. A lot about nothing or another warning? He wins another Super Bowl, gets more accolades, no worries. Yet the new allegations seem a little more disturbing. I'm sure everyone has heard all of the sordid details. I even know what he

These are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts, and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place.. ______________________________ ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active? WITNESS: No, I just lie there. ______________________________ ______________ ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all? WITNESS: Yes. ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory? WITNESS: I forget. ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot? ______________________________ _____________ ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo? WITNESS: We both do. ATTORNEY: Voodoo? WITNESS: We do. ATTORNEY: You do? WITNESS: Yes, voodoo. ______________________________ ______________ ATTORNEY: Now doctor, "isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know abou

Growing up there are so many expressions...so many words that my father used to say that have annoyingly become part of the language around my house. Of course, the classic - "Bah!" - whenever my father was exasperated - which was often - has become standard lingo around all of the Fazzolari households and has also crept into the homes of our close friends. Then there are the Italian swear words. You could tell how angry my father was by how many of the words were strung together - and unfortunately, I am handing those same words down to my kids. I don't even really know what they mean! Yet I heard my nephew Rocco say them on his last visit, so they are words that stick with you for quite awhile. Sam laughs every time I let loose with the string, which is good, I suppose, because we didn't laugh when my father let go. We ran. There is also a classic story out there of a college friend, Fluffy, who after hanging out with me for years, approached an Italian woman (right

But I miss George W. He was funny. Now these politicians don't even mess up the language. Ah well, Sarah Palin is still out there.

The goal of every writer should be to write something that means something to somebody else. It's always been the driving force behind all the words I've written. Of course there is a narcissistic force there as well as I try to figure out where I'm supposed to stand on this cosmic stage of ridiculousness called life. (See, I like that sentence). Yet there is also a strange element to it all now. I can write something down, have it out there for all the world to see in a matter of how long it takes to hit the post button, and who knows who might read it. It's a scary deal, but hopefully I am only using my powers for good. Narcissism, gotta' love it. Lately I've been receiving a lot of comments from a Chinese base, and it is really quite interesting to me, although I can't read the comments. Just seeing the language there with exclamation points, and those nice little pictures. Flat out cool, and they may even be telling me to stop jamming up their hard drive

In late 1986 while living in Mountain View, California news broke that Springsteen was showing up at the Bridge Benefit Concert that was being organized by Neil Young. Seems Young's kid suffered with autism and the concert was for all children suffering with the affliction. The tickets were sold through a lottery and although we tried, my brother Jim and I were unsuccessful in our bid. Still, Bruce was just a couple of miles away! "We'll drive down there and scalp tickets," Jim said. "Come on,you got cash." Unfortunately, Jim had no cash. It was all on me. Still, we had to try, right? We drove to the outdoor amphitheatre. I had $200 with me. The first guy we spotted holding tickets in the air sold them to us for $50 apiece. He was a middle-aged guy who appeared nervous to be getting rid of tickets in such a manner. "I probably could've gotten more, right?" he asked me. "Too late now," I said. Neil Young opened the show. It was a benef

You get up early, with a day of work on your mind. You do your best to make it through each and every little battle. Never giving up, never giving in. I thought of this today as I left with a new day dawning. Travelling west, the sun a big beach ball in the sky, making me move the visor left and right, right and left and back again. I'm so damn tired because I can't sleep because I remember... What do I want to do today? Who do I want to think about? Thoughts of my wife and kids - man, too much love to comprehend - sip of coffee and remember...remember. Remember when Jagger came out with this song? Remember how we laughed about how goofy he is. Remember how much we loved his falsetto voice? And the Bruce line about having debts that no honest man can pay and how you told that to a banker and he gave you a month or two of grace... Remember... And still there's the voice inside saying come on boy, stand on it, and rise above it and make it all happen... and still... there wil

Opened the USA Today Sports section to once more read about discrimination in baseball. Pleeeeeeease! It seems that only 10% of all MLB players are black. And while I find that curious, I'm not real sure that there's a movement afoot to keep the black ballplayer out of the sport. Henry Aaron, Willie Mays, Reggie Jackson, Sheffield, Sabathia...they aren't exactly oppressed. What about us poor white folk? We have just one token white guy on each NBA team. Where's our equality? Why didn't I get my chance to make it in the NBA? It's simple - talent and desire. There are only a handful of black ice hockey players. Why not scream discrimination there? Actually, it is a complex problem. Baseball takes organization and a lot of players to play. The equipment is expensive for inner city kids and there isn't a waiting ballpark. There's the inequality, I suppose, but it isn't a discriminatory thing. I seriously doubt that white owners are conspiring to keep the

There are three mostly capable boys living here, but I must confess I'm a little reluctant to give them the grass-cutting duties, and not because I think they're incapable, and not because I live in fear as their mother does that somehow they will cut off one of their appendages, but frankly because I like to cut the grass. The smell of freshly cut grass is the best - my sister referenced it in one of her recent blogs and talked about it being fresh and I suppose that is the smell - one of freshness. Besides I love looking behind the mower and seeing what has been done and looking in front of it to see what is left to do, and then checking it out when its done, knowing that I actually did something, and that there's a fresh start. There's that word again - fresh. I also think a lot about growing up and cutting the grass at the big house on the hill - five acres of freshness, brothers helping out - my father screaming that we were all going too fast, getting stuck in the

There's a rogue candidate for governor who has started his campaign here in Buffalo. He's sort of touting that we need to clean up Albany and start over, calling out all the elected officials for their hypocritical leadership. He wants to get the ball rolling on a campaign that will be controversial. Be careful what you wish for, right? Since Carl Paladino announced his candidacy he's become fodder for the political machine that chews people up and spits them out. Seems he passed borderline racist, sexist, and every other kind of ist e-mails to close friends in the form of humor. That ain't gonna work. The media eats people alive for fun. The skeletons that jam up the closet are all sure to come out. Spit on a girl in the 2nd grade? Someone knows. Told an off-color joke at a bar? No way to keep it quiet. "We need a good candidate," someone mentioned to me via text. "Maybe I'll run," I said. "No skeletons?" was the question that came in

Everyone has to have those mornings when you wake up feeling as though you never really slept. You been there, right? In and out of fitful dreams that you can barely remember and that seemed so important while you were dreaming it, but kind of sort of took away from the rest. I woke up that way this morning. Already tired. Already aggravated. Already to go back to bed, but a busy day awaited. So, off I went, snarling at everyone as the day progressed. Texting a buddy long enough to watch the early morning hours pass. Turning down a potential golf date because I'm still not sure I can trust the back and besides there's too much to do. All the while thinking of going back to bed. Yankee home opener - no way to see a television. No one to call me when the score changes. Nothing on the freaking radio - hey wifey can't I get that on Sirius? Help me with that, would you? Watching it on the Blackberry - not missing a single pitch as I talked in front of twenty people. Still stuck

Wow, looks like Ben Roethlisberger got away with it again - congrats to all the Steelers fans out there - seems like nothing sticks to the MVP QB. Can't be that all of his accusers are wrong can it? After reading about Ben, I read a story about the death of a thirteen-year old bride in Yemen. Even Ben would cringe at this one. The young girl died after trauma suffered during her first sexual experience with her arranged husband. Her brother set her up with one of his friends and the family got behind the marriage. The friend was 19, I believe, and it was, of course, his right to have his way with his new bride, right? Well, the trauma and the force generated during their "lovemaking" caused a rupture and eventually his new bride's death. Story goes that she was tied to the bedposts during the honeymoon. You know what made me the most sick about reading the article? The quote from the bride's mother - who said something along the lines of - "I told her to prac

Sundown, sundown, they're taking all the tents down. Where have you gone, my darling Billy? Through the years there have been a lot of people who've come to me at book signings and announced that before they die, they are going to write a book. I try to be encouraging, but a lot of times, I just chuckle to myself and think, 'Good luck.' Not that I think I am above anyone, but it is an agonizing process and the off-the-cuff thought that you can do it, makes me somewhat doubtful. In fact, the process is so difficult that there are at least ten or fifteen times along the way when you really, really, really want to quit. It's like being on a treadmill and saying that you're going to do ten miles - three miles into it, you start saying - "That's good enough." Fortunately for me, I work with a publishing house - Sterlinghouse out of Pittsburgh - where just enough isn't enough. I can hear Cindy Sterling saying, 'Keep running, you're getting th

The freezer is full. I'm not talking full as in "there's still room to put a loaf of bread". I'm talking, "I hope the door closes" full. As per usual, the side of beef was ordered, butchered, and this year it was even delivered. I split the cow with my buddy Mike, and he made the long drive through the South towns, picked it up and dropped it right at my door. The price was a little shocking as we each got more of the cow. We used to split it three ways with Jeff. Heavy sadness unloading, but Jeff was watching me load the freezer from his spot high above me. "I don't know if we can eat all of this," I said as I took tray after tray of T-bones, cubed steaks and hamburger off of Mike's truck. "Dude, who you kidding?" Mike asked. "You'll eat about thirty pounds of it tonight." It's great to have friends who speak so nicely to me. (Jeff would've said the same thing). We don't have thirty pounds out for di

Went to a job site on Thursday, on the east side of Buffalo and the guys in the work crew were talking about the day before. "A dude got shot in the head and was dead on the street about a block from here," one guy said. "What happened?" I asked. "Two black guys got in a fight I guess," the guy said. "Nine-thirty in the morning, bam, bam, dead." The guy seemed to be enjoying himself as he told the story. Perhaps, actually hopefully, it was just his way of dealing with it. "The dead guy's mother was out there too, she didn't seem surprised in the least. She probably knew he'd end up dead." "That's horrible," I said. "The life they lead," the guy summarized. Unfortunately I didn't think too much about it and I guess that's the way it is. Some people do live lives that lead to violence. Who knows what the particulars were - drug-related? gang-related? Walking on the wrong side of the street? This

So, I know exactly the moment when Cheetah Woods tees-off today: 1:42. I hope he pulls a Popple and hits it 375 yards, and hard to the left into the trees. I hope his ball gets wedged between a rock and the tree trunk and he Renaldo's four chips to get back to the green. I hope he Cliff's five or six putts and takes a 14 for the hole telling everyone, "I stopped counting after the third putt, just give me a fourteen." But that isn't what is going to happen. The crowd at the Master's will cheer him wildly. He'll tip his cap, tell us all how sorry he is, and how much he needed to get back on the course so he can feed his kids and solidify his relationship with his wonderful wife. Then he'll birdie the freaking hole as everyone goes wild. Why would anyone cheer for him? I get the 2nd chance deal, and the fact that we are quick to forgive any sportsman who shows even a hint of sorrow. I understand that he really needs to golf because it's his job and h

Read it...liked it...thought I'd share it... 1. Take time to dream -- it hitches your soul to the start. 2. Take time to work -- it is the price of success. 3. Take time to think -- it is the source of power. 4. Take time to play -- it is the secret of youth. 5. Take time to read -- it is the foundation of knowledge. 6. Take time to meditate -- it washes the dust of earth from your eyes. 7. Take time to help and enjoy friends -- it is the source of happiness. 8. Take time to love -- it is the joy of life. 9. Take time to laugh -- it helps with life's loads. 10. Take time for beauty -- it is everywhere you choose to find it. 11. Take time for health -- it is the true treasure of life. 12. Take time to plan -- it is the key to creating time for the first eleven things.

My niece and nephews were around all day today, playing with their cousins, eating a couple of gallons of ice cream, and sitting on our laps, laughing for hours. The photo shows them shooting hoops, riding the bike, and just playing. Now about the kid on the bike - 3-year-old Rocco - yes, three years old! Riding the bike like Lance Armstrong - I had to tell him to sit down as he rode, and at one point he raced down the road causing my heart to really speed up. "Turn around! Slow down!" I yelled, and it made me laugh to think that I'm telling a 3-year-old to slow down while riding a bike. Now a few things here: One: My kids didn't master riding a bike until they were about eight. Two: I can't handle being a parent of small kids anymore. I was as nervous as an old lady walking on a sheet of ice. "Slow down! Behave! Quiet! Eat your food! Are you all right?" I was petrified. Three: There just isn't anything as wonderful as family. Seeing my brothers kid

I read a recap of the Pope's Easter Mass and I truly felt sorry for the 83-year old man. It seems as if there is a movement afoot to blame the Pope for turning a blind eye to some of the, ahem, indiscretions of the Catholic priests. It's sort of like striking out and then blaming the ball, isn't it? Who knows? Maybe the Catholic church is behind the times as they say. Perhaps it isn't normal for men and women to remain celibate for a lifetime and not go bonkers. (I know I can't hardly make it through a long weekend.)Maybe, as some say, the ones who are bonkers are the one's who join the priesthood. Let's see what I know about this, huh? First off, I knew plenty of priests through the years. I went to a Catholic grammar school and a private, Catholic university. I met a couple of priests who's motives seemed shaky. I was never pressured into anything untoward, but I swear one of the priests had a crush on a college buddy. I believe we worked it into a nig

The weekend was exciting for a number of reasons - most of all because the sun was shining. Three days of temperatures near 80, a chance to do yard work early, believing that the long (although mild) winter was behind us. On Friday we held our white trash driveway party - lots of laughs, the kids shooting hoops, the ice bucket filled with beer, everyone telling me that my I-pod is depressing, and a few long conversations with good friends. No airs, no drama, just relax and smile. Saturday brought a visit to family, more laughs, Johnny, Farrah and Rocco starring in the show. The sorrow hard to come by when the kids are making you laugh. Sunday brings thoughts of eternal life and rising, and ham and turkey and chocolate and the start of the baseball season - which we don't want to discuss - suffice to say the Yanks lost their opener last year too. And waking up today, knowing that a return to work was on the horizon and knowing that the back is still barking, hoping that the sun stay

When I was a kid I always felt bad for Easter - it was like supposed to be this huge holiday, but it never quite lived up to Christmas, did it? I used to wonder why Santa Claus was able to deliver all those presents while the bunny could only carry chocolate, and in my mind's eye, seeing that rabbit hopping down the bunny trail seemed sort of ridiculous, right? And what was the deal with the eggs? Being raised Catholic I couldn't figure out how Jesus rising from the dead could be captured by a chocolate-toting, egg-coloring bunny that was hippity-hopping - whatever the hell that meant. And where the hell was the bunny trail? And why'd the bastard hide the baskets? Couldn't he just set them down on the table and hop his ass back out the door? Which brings me to the crux of the matter. My basket was always well-hidden, and my mother carried the tradition on way too long. Coming home from college for Easter dinner I was told: "You need to find your basket." I nev

Sunday marks the opening day of baseball season - a day I've looked forward to every year since I've had teeth - and yes, I still have them all. So, what can I say about the coming year? The Boston, Philly and Mets fans have been awful quiet this winter. I wonder why that might be. Oh yeah, the YANKEES WON THEIR 27TH CHAMPIONSHIP JUST A FEW MONTHS AGO!!!!!!! Not to say we need another immediate return on the dollars they've spent this year. I really don't feel the urgent need for the Yanks to repeat, but unfortunately, for all you haters out there - they just might. Damon is gone. Matsui is gone. Hell they even traded Melky which thoroughly pissed off his namesake, my dog. There are new guys to cheer for, but now that they are in pinstripes, we'll give them a go. The Yanks open on Sunday night against the Red Sux. Nothing like getting my stomach turning right off the top. Puke Youk and steroid-cheat Ortiz and stupid Papelbon, and dumb Varitek, and moronic Lowell, an