Thoughts of a Common Man

So, feeling good, living in my own skin, huh? Why do I write such things? As soon as I mention that life is basically livable... ...BAM! I stopped at a stop sign and waited patiently as the line of cars on the Robert Moses Parkway was long. The guy driving the big van behind me didn't actually feel like stopping. When you are operating a vehicle that does not come to a stop when the vehicle in front of you has stopped there will be a loud... ...CRASH. It kind of pisses you off, you know. I got out quick. The guy was out of his vehicle even quicker. "I'm a freaking idiot!" he exclaimed. "I was just going to say that," I said. He pointed to his new shoes. They were shiny brown workboots. "I just bought these yesterday. My foot slipped off the brake and when I went to hit it, I hit the gas." "I hate your new boots," I said. We assessed the damage. There was enough to file a police report. "How do you feel?" he asked. I felt all rig...

As luck might have it, I was listening to Bruce on Sunday morning. You see, I was up early and since no one else gets up with me, except for Melky and Paris, I needed to entertain myself with something after taking them for their ride. We saw a squirrel. Damn, we were fired up. So, I headed to the YMCA. A bunch of fat guys trying to slim down and chase away what will most likely be a lot of suffering as we pay for the sins of our youth. And I had the headphones on, as I attempted to run for the first time since the second knee surgery. I made it a half a lap. I must have looked like a wounded seal. A big one. And Bruce happened to come on, singing of Better Days. My soul checked out missing as I sat listening to the hours and minutes ticking away. As per usual, my mind is often very contemplative on the weekends as I try and assess everything. It felt good to be moving. It felt better to know that we would all be together today for dinner, movies, the NBA Game that Sam wants to watch. ...

This is an actual port-a-lav from an actual jobsite here in lovely Buffalo. There were two reasons why I took the photo: 1). The walls were filled. Usually there are a couple of items on the walls, but this particular shithouse was a true canvas. It appears that a union carpenter and a non-union laborer were really pissed off about one another in regard to how they made their living and evidently, their sexual orientations. 2). Reason #2 was even more pronounced. It was because I actually read something I liked. A man perched on the opening wrote, at eye level: "Every woman is a whore - except your mother - and don't ask your father about her." I had seen said quote before, but I laughed anyway. What goes through the mind of a man to write such stuff on a wall? A couple of years ago I saw my own name on one of the walls: "Cliff is a &*ckHead," was how I was honored. "No he isn't!!" Someone wrote underneath it with a line pointing up. So, I had ...

So, Tim Thomas of the Bruins didn't want to go to the White House to meet Obama. What country does he work in? Oh well. Much like I felt when that nutbag threw the shoe at Dubya, I think the office of the presidency should be honored...no matter if you think the guy in there is dim or not. But this is America where we can make such stands, so I don't hate Thomas for it...it's his call. Howard Stern is going to be on Dancing with the Stars and people cringe about that, but I stand up for my boy Howard. Is he a worse guy than Steven Tyler who abused everything, was arrested a zillion times and treated women horribly? Howard is a proud father who's always stayed clear of trouble. I might even have to watch the show now...at least once. Did you catch the State of the Union? I didn't. I might have liked to have heard the speech, but I hate the format with the standing and the clapping and the love that isn't there. Earlier in the year I finished reading the Stephen K...

Three years ago today...sucked. How do you live broken-hearted? Listen to Bruce. Live the prayer. This is the Land of Hopes and Dreams I'll think of it a lot today. Thanks for writing it Bruce. Land of Hopes and Dreams Grab your ticket and your suitcase Thunder's rolling down the tracks You don't know where you're goin' But you know you won't be back Darlin' if you're weary Lay your head upon my chest We'll take what we can carry And we'll leave the rest Big Wheels rolling through fields Where sunlight streams Meet me in a land of hope and dreams I will provide for you And I'll stand by your side You'll need a good companion for This part of the ride Leave behind your sorrows Let this day be the last Tomorrow there'll be sunshine And all this darkness past Big wheels roll through fields Where sunlight streams Meet me in a land of hope and dreams This train Carries saints and sinners This train Carries losers and winners This train Car...

Back about 25 years ago I worked for a company that was based out of Brooklyn. Some of the guys on the crew were Jersey Shore-like Italian guys with the gold chains and the bada-bing, bada-boom lingo. Everyone's named ended in a vowel. During that summer I went to a 4th of July party sponsored by John Gotti. I may have wrote about it before. I was scared out of my mind at that party. There was a guy in the crew who handled all of our bets on the football games. The Bills were on the verge of being good and I remembered betting ten bucks or so, in a friendly bet with him. "Da' Bills ain't beating da' Bengals," he said. "It's set: Bengals versus 49ers in the bowl. 49ers will win but not cover." "Whatever," I said. And we bet. The Bills lost. The 49ers won the Super Bowl two weeks later. They scored on their last drive to pull it out. They didn't cover the spread. I remember asking bada-bing how he could be so sure. "Lots of money...

That poor kicker with the Ravens. He missed a chip shot field goal that would have tied the game. No matter who you were rooting for, you have to feel for the guy. I guess it goes with the territory, right? You're paid to make 'em and when you miss 'em, people are going to hate you. About 12 years ago the Bills ate up a hundred million in tax money to re-do the stadium. I was there mostly every day for the construction. As the project came to a close the Bills let the workers line up and try to kick a 35-yard field goal. There were 50 of us. We all tried. My attempt was only 23 yards short. 47 other guys missed too. Check the math: Two guys made it. I'd be 34 and a half yards short if I tried to kick it now. Yet the thing about it was that it was certainly embarrassing to miss that kick in front of 49 other guys. They were hooting and hollering as I approached the ball, and laughing and teasing as my kick harmlessly landed on the 20 yard line. It was about then I decide...

The passing of Joe Paterno was sad to me on a couple of different levels. First, I felt for his family and fans. Secondly, I felt bad for him. I did. But man, it really galled me to see people glossing over the fact that he didn't do more when he knew about the Sandusky deal. I don't believe he deserves a statue. I don't believe people should be adorning his statue with gifts. Make no mistake: He knew. And not only did he know about the abuse the first time, but the second and third time too. And he should have done more. And knowing he didn't, probably helped to kill him. And I do feel bad for that. But worse than all that, I feel bad for the people who are defending him. He doesn't deserve you standing up for him. He knew what he was risking. What he risked, and lost, was his perfect reputation. That was his decision, not mine. Does that make him a horrible man? Probably not. He will be judged. I heard today that there are groups planning to protest him at his own...

So some 20-odd days into 2012. I'm beat to shit. Work has been a real bear. One thing after another. People have their agendas and evidently a lot of them involved me. The thing about it is that it may not be different than the work load in the past, but this getting old shit is for the birds. I often think of my Dad telling me about how enthusiastic he was for every day to start. He put it in only the way that he could. "I want to be about 90 years old and up on charges for attempted rape," he told me. He might have done it too if some of that enthusiasm hadn't been stripped. And for the most part, it's a shot out of the cannon type of experience for me as well. I look forward to working hard. Yet there are a few things I know for sure about 2012. 1). I don't want anything to do with the presidential election. I don't want to know who you're voting for or why. I don't want to know who you think screwed it all up. Let's just agree that it's...

HIGH SCHOOL - 1957 vs. 2010 Scenario 1: Jack goes quail hunting before school and then pulls into the school parking lot with his shotgun in his truck's gun rack. 1957 - Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack. 2010 - School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers. Scenario 2: Johnny and Mark get into a fist fight after school. 1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies. 2010 - Police called and SWAT team arrives - they arrest both Johnny and Mark. They are both charged with assault and both expelled even though Johnny started it. Scenario 3: Anthony will not be still in class, he disrupts other students. 1957- Anthony sent to the Principal's office and given a good paddling by the Principal. He then returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt cl...

The amazing thing about Springsteen's writing is that he has kept his characters consistent from year to year and album to album and that's not easy to do considering the changes in his own life. Yet when I read the words to the new song I am struck by the same thoughts as I was when I first heard him as a teenager. At that point he was facing an internal struggle to fit in as a social outcast and a struggling musician. To see the same sort of angst in his heart as a billionaire rock star means a lot to me. He never abandoned the cause. The guy driving the car at the end of Thunder Road is still on the road looking to find his way. And Americans everywhere can appreciate the work-in-progress feel to all of the characters. A struggle to be spiritual, productive and alive. Words by Bruce Springsteen. Columbia Records. We Take Care of Our Own I’ve been knocking on the door that holds the throne. I’ve been looking for the map that leads me home. I’ve been stumbling on good hearts t...

So things seem to be shaking on E Street as I am getting word on the new Springsteen CD. They are talking full E Street Band but also a mix of some of the Seeger Sessions musicians to take Clarence's place. (God Bless the Big Man). They are also talking an angry, spiritual, political album that sounds different from anything else in the last ten or so years. How can you not be fired up? One thing I can tell you for sure: the writing will be brilliant. And speaking of brilliant, did you happen to catch the Yankees moves over the weekend? A couple of starting pitchers were brought in to bolster the staff. Life is looking up here in Cliffy land. And man, it is good to see some news as we slide into the end of January and the darkest couple of months of the year. I've always hated February and over the last few years March has been the suckiest freaking month that was ever put on the calendar, but then we have April! The Yankees will open the season that concludes with championship...

So the captain of the Costa Concordia seems to really be gunning for douche of the world, huh? First he takes the ship with 4,200 people on it nice and close to the shore so he can wave to his friends and family and then when it hits a rock and tips the frig over, he announces that the crew should be saved first and that when it all comes to pass it's every man for himself. What the hell? Now I'm not exactly Mel Gibson (another douche) in Braveheart but I think I'd have a little compassion for the women and children on the ship, and hell, if I felt like I were responsible for everyone making a mad scramble, I might just stick around to see how it all turns out. This guy is going to be a bigger villain than Madoff (Huge douche) before it's all over, and deservedly so, right? Speaking of villains I see that Orenthal (dumb douche)had his house foreclosed this week. It is still so hard to imagine the path of that dumb bastards life. To be cheered by millions, adored by at ...

Isn't that the best? I may have gasped when I saw the above shot in Boston. How could you not if you're around my age? Cheers was more than a great show, it was what we all talked about. So, I was pretty excited to be there, and the owners of the place have done a nice job of re-creating the bar scene. In fact, the bar itself really seems to be the one they used on the show. There are nameplates in front of each seat to let you know who sat where as if you really couldn't find Norm and Cliffy's spots. I sat in Clavin's chair, of course, and ordered the Clavin sandwich. It was grilled cheese with roasted peppers and olives. Not bad at all. And there was a sandwich for each member of the cast, and a gift shop, and just a lot of really cool things to look at. I thought of the nights when my brothers and I would watch the show and drink beer depending upon which name was called. We also might have played the same game in college. They don't do shows like that anymor...

And it's not just Temple Run, which is a game on the I-phone. It is also video slots (not playing with real money) and the new golf game that I purchased for 5 bucks just last week. Temple Run is a game where you dart around with something that looks like birds chasing you. There are pinpoint turns and you pick up coins and you add crap on and you jump and slide and die. If you die once, your game is over. That happens every couple of minutes, and it is so damn addiciting as you try to get your score higher and higher and higher. "There's a kid in my class who has 4 million," Sam told me. I was at 40,000 when that news was broken to me. Then Sam got up over 500,000. Then Matt got to 2 million. Jake is well over the 500,000 mark. I currently sit at 287,000. Since we discovered the game I played it ten times more than any one of my kids. OCD will do that to you. I play it as we watch television. It's quite a sight. We all have phones in our hands. Sam is playing gol...

Life is sometimes really strange. Yesterday afternoon I returned from my trip to Boston and as I entered the house the dogs jumped for my attention. Kathy, Jake and Sam were on the couch watching the football game and eating an ice cream. They all said hi, but they didn't jump up and clap, which was great. Because, you see, I had just been through a real weird experience. I headed to Boston to accept an award for a book I never imagined writing. I wanted to introduce the people to Jeff though so I was on a mission. I just never truly grasped all of it. It was a big award, I'm told. 5% of books entered received recognition....so there were a lot of books in the competition. The event was held in the Parker House where a lot of history was made. JFK proposed at one table, Longfellow and Thoreau sat over there. Everything was elegant and they were passing around shit I'd never eat, but shoveled in anyway whenever one of the snooty waiters passed. All good, so far, nothing on m...

So much to say about the weekend and I will try tomorrow. Just know that it was a smashing success as I paid homage at Fenway, sat in Clavin's chair at the Cheers bar, and introduced a whole bunch of award-winning authors to an award-deserving life.

So, Jeff and me are heading for the land of steroid cheats and breaking curses because they were steroid cheats and did I mention that they cheated when they won the World Series, and it doesn't count, and that I'm going to piss all over Yawkey Way? Actually, I am glad to go to the town, and I'm only half-kidding when I say that stuff above. They won the series in '04 and '07 Unfair and not-square, but who am I to judge. No, I am going to Boston for an honor that means the world to me and should mean the world to you as readers of Oh Brother! You see, the book would have never been written without each person reading this. I wrote it because of an overwhelming love I felt in my heart...and will always feel...and a lot of that was because of family, friends, and readers who wanted that message that Jeff so eloquently lived. So, I will wear nice clothes, and I might not tinkle at Fenway. This trip is about honor, after all. (But you never know). I'm dreaming about...

So, Tim Tebow said, “Thank you Lord,” when the winning TD was scored, and before “Tebowing” on his knee to show the millions watching, including the Lord, that a Steeler victory just wasn’t in God’s plan. Doesn’t a deity, somewhere above, like the Steelers and Pittsburgh fans? Still, dropping on one’s knee with head bowed is more refined than the jigs and jives that so many football players do after scoring a touchdown. Would theologians argue that playoff games like this are a welcome distraction for the Lord, who must be terribly disillusioned with so much suffering around the world? Should not the odds-making gurus be seeking the advice of those with supernatural contacts, like TV evangelists, before informing the betting public how to risk its money? And I realize now, sadly, why the teams I played with as a youth seldom won a championship. The guys on the others teams just outprayed us, and the Lord reacted accordingly That's one such article I read today. I agree. I wake up t...

I was watching a show last night and a star actress being interviewed said that her mantra is 'Live life to the fullest.' And it occurred to me that I don't have a mantra! What should it be? What should it be? "I try and make it home for Judge Judy?" "I try to see how much rigatoni I can eat at one sitting?" "I try to aggravate at least twenty people a day." Gotta' admit it, I like all of them, but still not sure what my mantra will be. Of course having a mantra and announcing it is an awful pompous thing to do, isn't it? I wanted to yell at that actress that her thought was neither interesting nor original. She wants to live each day to the fullest! Moron. But I will come up with a mantra before the day is over. I'm thinking of getting that done and then getting a walking cane, a top hat, and a tattoo of John 3:16. Whatever I need to do to announce that I'm a douche. How about? "I don't count my chickens before they...

I attended Jake's basketball game on Saturday morning. On the way to the game he mentioned that he was about to dominate the action and that my head would most likely be spinning with how great he has become. I simply wanted to get through the game without getting pissed off at any over-bearing parents, or grandparents, for that matter. Jake took the court early in the game. My first reaction was how big and hairy he looked to me. When you see your kid from the moment he takes his first breath and every day thereafter, sometimes the mere size of them can throw you off. A minute in, he was in on a steal. That was one thing I did very little of as a player: defense. Then he did something even more disconcerting. He passed the ball to a teammate who streaked to the hoop and scored. Jake glanced my way. In my eyes, he was dominating. A few minutes later he got his first shot. It was a mid-range bank shot that rolled out. I had offered 5 bucks a point. Another rebound, another assist, a...

I am always wrong when I get into these political arguments, but why the hell is the Republican platform: "I love Jesus, I own a gun and we all hate gay people?" Let's take them one at a time. I love Jesus too. This is a Christian country, but I don't think less of you if you worship someone else. As long as you're a decent human being, fine. No one has a freaking clue what transpires after we exit anyway, so why pretend that you do. Tebow all you like. We fought for our religious expression. Keep it in your speech. Keep it out. Just don't expect me to vote for you because I think you go to church. You're probably banging an intern or trying to get toilet paper from the guy next to you anyway. Always remember one thing: You're most likely a disgusting, immoral slob anyway. I don't own a gun. I don't want your gun unless you are using it to blast away senators or the ex-wife and your four kids. Keep your gun. Go shoot some cans. Hold it under yo...

An Uplifting Story There was a man who lost one of his arms in an accident. He became very depressed because he loved to play golf. One day in his despair, he decided to commit suicide. He got on an elevator and went to the top of a building to jump off. He was standing on the ledge looking down and saw this man skipping along, whooping and kicking up his heels. He looked closer and saw that this man didn't have any arms at all. He started thinking, what am I doing up here feeling sorry for myself, I still have one good arm to do things with? There goes a man with no arms skipping down the sidewalk so happy, and going on with his life. He hurried down and caught up with the man with no arms. He told him how glad he was to see him because he lost one of his arms and felt useless and was going to kill himself. He thanked him again for saving his life and said he knew he could make it with one arm if that guy could go on with no arms. The man with no arms began dancing and whooping ...

I spent a good deal of the morning listening to Jay Thomas on Friday. He was voicing his theory regarding the military. You see, Thomas doesn't believe in war. He particularly doesn't believe in the last few wars, and he is fond of telling military men not to kill anyone for him, and not to fight for his freedom. Thomas explains it all by saying that he feels guilty that people are dying for him, and that he doesn't want anyone to make the ultimate sacrifice for his benefit. I sort of get it. Now, of course, it is deemed as unpatriotic to say anything about the soldiers, and I don't think that is what Thomas is doing...he just doesn't want it on his conscience. He is unapologetic and unwavering. Again, it makes sense to me. But, a 22-year veteran called in and called Thomas an asshole. Comes with the territory. Soon enough the discussion swung around to what sort of soldier every man in the room might make. And this is where Jay and I sort of lined up even more. We ...

Say it with me, Pops. One of them damn weeks. I have a theory about short weeks. They suck. Because people still have agendas, and people have more rest, and they feel that the new year is going to be different, so they are going to sprint out of the gate. And call me! Bastards! There were others who were voicing some of the same concerns. I saw it all over Facebook, but let me tell you, it ruined my first week of 2012. So much so that I am tired of this year. But a funny thing happened on my way to absolute destruction. I found out the date of Bruce's next CD. And tell me if this doesn't make your skin crawl. As I wrote in Oh Brother! Jeff got sick on the very day Bruce released his last CD. Do you know when he last came to Buffalo? On my brother John's birthday. A balloon drifted from the rafters. It had been released for Little Steven's birthday. It landed in John's lap. It said, 'Happy Birthday.' It was the last concert the E Street Band ever played toge...

Of course, whenever I hear the YMCA song I think of my brother running through the crowd, slapping his bare ass while wearing his loin cloth Halloween costume, but I digress... We have been members of the local YMCA for a lot of years now, and in January it's pretty much a living hell because people make resolutions and they head out in force for a few weeks. There aren't any parking spots, the hot tub is filled with flesh, and even as I walked on the track the other day, people were huffing and puffing their way around. And I can stand to lose a few pounds, but some of the people I saw could stand to run non-stop from here to Edmonton, Alberta and back. No breaks, no food allowed. And they'd still be obese. Yet what gets to me is that strange, uncomfortable vibe in the locker room, and seeing some of these humungous asses in the shower. Upon arriving I always try to find an isolated area of the locker room where I can change clothes in peace. I will head for the quiet corn...

God, I was going to vote for Herman Cain and he got bounced, so I switched to Rick Perry, but we found out he's done, so I switched to Bachman, and now she quit, so I was going to go to Newt, but he had a disappointing finish in Iowa. So, I thought about Santorium but there was footage...ah forget it! Did you know that Hitler was Time Magazine's Man of the Year for 1938? Did you know that Oprah makes a million bucks a day? Did you know that your chances of getting killed on your way to buy a lottery ticket are actually better than your chances of winning? Did you know that Americans spend 25 billion dollars a year on beer? Which might explain...did you know that the amount of human urine in one day could flow over Niagara Falls for 20 minutes? Did you know that if a cockroach comes into contact with a human it will run off and hide and clean itself for an hour or so? Did you know that it's cheaper to have sex with a prostitute than it is to buy a condom in India? Did you kn...

So my last 3 posts have been about things I've tried hard to learn. We will get back to our regularly scheduled mess-I-make-of-things posts tomorrow. Wanted to conclude with Bruce lyrics of course. Someone tell me, honestly, that he isn't a genius. Across the Border Tonight my bags are packed. Tomorrow I’ll walk these tracks that will lead me across the border. Tomorrow my love and I will sleep beneath auburn skies – somewhere across the border. We’ll leave behind, my dear, the pain and sadness we found here and we’ll drink from God’s Blessed Water. Where the skies grow great and wide, we’ll meet on the other side somewhere across the border. For you I’ll build a house, high upon a grassy hill, somewhere across the border. Where pain and memory have been stilled there across the border. And sweet blossoms fill the air in pastures of gold and green and roll down into clear, cool waters. And in your arms beneath open skies, I’ll kiss the sorrow from your eyes there across the bor...

Looking through old stuff is fun! This is still one of my favorite stories about the old writing career. Should be self-explanatory. The News got the ball rolling by publishing my letter. Reality of Poverty Revealed During Visit to City Mission Over the course of the last three months, I have been doing book signings for my book, Desperation . I am donating a portion of the proceeds to the Buffalo City Mission. The more I learn about the City Mission, and organizations like it, the more that I feel that I have to give something back. What are we without hope in our hearts? That’s a question I’ve asked myself a number of times since touring the mission while doing research for my book. For five years, I worked on a story that chronicled a family’s attempt to cheat poverty. I read a number of books on the subject, and fancied myself something of an expert on what it might mean to be poor in a material-driven society. But in the first half-hour of my tour of the City Mission, I learned mo...

I don't mean to do this all of 2012, but I found another piece I wrote back about ten years ago. It's a true story. I was later asked to read this on a radio station somewhere and it was reprinted somewhere else. I still like it. On a bitterly cold Saturday morning in November, I stopped at a store for diapers, formula and dog food. I had a miserable hacking cough and an aching head. I was dead-tired and aggravated that there was one cashier with six people in line. I rolled my eyes and swore only to be embarrassed when I realized the elderly woman behind me had heard me curse. “I’m sorry. I’m just miserable.” The lady smiled. I figured she was about seventy. A quick glance at her cart told me she probably lived alone. “I don’t have enough time left to be miserable,” she said. “Being 93, I know I can go anytime. I have to enjoy what’s left.” I was floored by her proclamation. “You can’t be 93! You look so young!” “That’s because I’m never miserable!" She introduced herself...

I wrote this back in 2002. Found it kicking around a computer file. It fits into how I'm thinking at the dawn of 2012. Ten years goes fast, my friends. Some friends of mine are battling the serious illness of their child. Having been down a similar road just a short time ago, I found myself praying for them – wishing that I could buy them a truckload of faith, hope or love. As I considered this, it occurred to me that sometimes it is impossible to grasp the meaning of faith. How do we find faith in the face of the events of September 11th? How do we make sense of unknown enemies that want to destroy us? Even more importantly, how do we move forward when the very foundation of our faith is shaken by the unspeakable actions of those in leadership roles in the Catholic Church? Truthfully, how do we find faith in the eyes of an ailing child? It is the very mystery of human nature. Yet, when people know some of the dark things that life holds in store, there is still belief. If you are ...