Thoughts of a Common Man

I was born in a small town. Taught to fear Jesus in that same small town. And I was back doing a book-signing in that small town and I felt pretty good. My books were selling well and I'd sort of found my way with the writing. I knew that I was doing what I wanted to do and, somewhat to my wife's chagrin, I was donating and helping, and I was writing well. Feeling confident. I felt I could just write anything I wanted without too much in the way of an effort. The book-signing was almost over when a life-long friend from one of those cherished small town families stopped by. The man before me was a Dad who'd suffered an unspeakable tragedy, losing his child in an accident that claimed two and rocked the town to the core. We talked a lot about God and why. "I was hoping you could help me make a little sense of things," my dear friend said. And that single line shook me for months. How does one make sense of the pure tragedy that occurs? How do y...

The Labor Day Weekend is certainly one that people look forward to each year, but there is also a bit of hesitation involved as it feels like the end of summer, right? And it was a strange summer in the North East. I don't ever remember a cooler August. It was 45 degrees one morning a couple of weeks back. That's October stuff, folks. And every time you bring up the chill in the air there's someone standing there who tells you: "It's going to be a long, cold, miserable winter." Really? No shit? "Aren't they all?" I asked the guy who gave me the weather report. "Especially this year," the guy said. "The Farmer's Almanac said so, and I saw the squirrels burying their nuts early." "That must've hurt." "What?" "Nothing." The point being...no one wants the summer to really end, but we need the break. I spoke with a lot of construction guys on Friday afternoon, and aske...

I know for a fact that my sons are going to remember watching the 2009 World Series as the Yankees won it all for the 27th time. I understand that because for years and years I have cherished the memories of watching the Yankees-Royals games of the late 1970's. I distinctly recall that the Yanks were down in Game 5 when Chambliss hit the homer that propelled them to the World Series. Dad made a huge sandwich for me and we ate it around midnight, despite the fact that there was school the next day, and we were so fired up. I kept thinking about that as I walked into Royals Stadium in Kansas City. George Brett. Frank White. Hal McRae. I hated those teams, but I sort of liked them too. Then there was the water fountain. When I was a kid I thought it was just the neatest thing. How did they do it? Water flowing in the outfield? And then Reggie hit one in there. Life was good. During the game on Monday night...I was seated alone...in the 2nd row right by fir...

There comes a time every week when I panic a little bit because the D.B. of the week doesn't seem to be jumping out at me, but of course, not to worry, they always come through. Not many people outside of Buffalo know this week's winner. Marquise Goodwin plays for the Buffalo Bills. He's a wide receiver who runs fast but hasn't done much to set his career aflame. He posted this tweet after the latest Bills loss (in an exhibition game at the stadium). "Looks like we will have to play against our own "fans" this year. Same ones booing prolly the first in line for autographs. Smh #FEWDM." First off...what a butcher job on the English language, huh? Smh. Yet here's the problem with that tweet. They were losing 24-0 at the first game at the stadium where they were supposed to be entertaining the kids on kids day. At the halftime break the television feed showed the $130 million in renovations including the new expanded locker room wher...

Every once in awhile I like to look around the 'Net for stories and quotes and little items that push things forward. I don't have a lot of time to do it, of course, but when I'm feeling writer-ish I'll look around. This one reminded me of being in college and getting a paper returned to me from an old English professor who told us many times that he was 'working on a book'. I, of course, wanted to do the same thing someday, but he temporarily dashed my hopes with a note on the top of the paper that said: "You'll likely never be published." I remember reading that note over and over again until I finally tore up the paper and gave him a two-word send-off, over and over in my mind. A few years later...and every single time I had a book come out...I sent him one. Each time I'd ask him how his book was coming along. He never returned my correspondence. Yet, this one is off the 'Net...same thoughts. By Monty Roberts. As he was a k...

I was taking the dogs for their Sunday morning ride around the block (we saw two squirrels and a dog) when Don Henley's The Boys of Summer came on the radio. It's a good song from a good record and my brain played that quick trick on me by taking me straight back in time to when the song was at it's height. I was living in Baltimore for the summer of '91. I was hanging out with my college roommate, we were playing tennis, rooting for the last-place Orioles, and drinking a lot of beer. (I don't do any of those things anymore). (I don't wanna' hear about the freaking O's!) Anyway, the girl who was the lifeguard at the pool was a true beauty and we were all great friends. When Don Henley sings the line: Your brown skin shattered in the sun. I'm instantly back at that place and time. And of course, it works with about a thousand other songs. There are songs that take you back to high school and perhaps running out onto the basketball...

I recently watched a Dr. Phil show about a kid who was in a gang that terrorized citizens in his own neighborhood. Dr. Phil, of course, got right to the heart of the matter with his undying wit and goofy accent. By the end of the show he had the kid crying in his mother's arms and accepting Dr. Phil's gracious offer of intensive therapy that would show why he was destructive. I never really got the gang mentality thing and if truth must be told I have dreams of walking down a dark alley and being surrounded by a band of thugs who are intent on causing me great harm. We all fall prey to such scary dreams, I suppose and the great strength of gangs is in the fear that they strike in the hearts of all. Putting a YouTube video up of an actual beheading of a human being. An American journalist can actually spread that fear pretty quickly. And like Al-Qaeda I seriously didn't know much of the meaning of the word ISIS until it was front and center. I thought ISIS was an ...

There comes a moment in everyone's life when you understand... ...that you don't control anything that's really important. It breaks my heart to think about Jake standing next to me on the day when his tumor was finally discovered. He was really struggling to breath, but he was smiling at me. We both were sick with colds. He kinda' liked the fact that we were both battling the bug together. But his cold nearly killed him. And there was so much more about all of it. The crying. The fear. The togetherness. The compassion. Damn! I can write a book or two about it. Yet what was odd about the situation was that following the operation I was standing at the foot of the bed, still so scared, when the chief surgeon approached me. "I hear you're a writer." Nobody's Home was out and had received some press and the award. I nodded. I think. "I've always wanted to write," the surgeon said. "I think that's such a nob...

Every year my buddy Jeffy, a true Grape Ape, plays in a golf tourney with me. It's a two day event at a couple of great courses in Rochester and we play with my great friends from Syracuse. On Thursday Jeffy had a decision to make. "I believe I tore my hamstring during the softball championship game," he said. "I've been trying all week to swing a club. I can't." I thought he might cry as he broke the news. However. I had my own problems. I was an hour away from getting shots in my back to try and get some feeling back in one or either of my lower legs. As the doc prepared me for the shots we talked about my ambitions. "Can I play in a two-day golf event on Friday and Saturday?" I asked. He laughed. "I suppose, if you can tolerate it, but why would you want to?" I explained about the great friends and the great courses. "You might be able to pull it off," he said. Turns out I couldn't. I yanke...

I spoke of having to write and it feeling like a lightning strike when the idea hits...I bought a new black notebook, folks...the lightning is hitting hard. To appreciate it...think of a phrase and a story entering your mind...at all times of the day...and developing..it unfolds for you...the words of the characters must be written down. The characters are formed to the point of actually knowing them and there are: Three words..over and over again... Life Is Hard I told my buddy: "My mental illness is back!" He said: "Sweet!!! But it never actually left." I had been in remission. Life is Hard by John Mellencamp Life is hard anyway you cut it Life is sweet, like a berry from a tree Life is temptation, Baby, every single day Life is hard Life is funny, I don't mean ha-ha It's not always sunny, when it needs to be Life is frightening, nothing lasts forever Life is hard My time Is next to nothin' My time Falls on you, yeah E...

For the D.B. of the week this week I'm gonna' let you take your choice: Jessie Jackson or Al Sharpton And believe me, I'm not being racist here. In fact, I contend that they're the ones who are racist and actually hurt the cause way more than they help it. Ex-basketball star, Gilbert Arenas pretty much summed it up when he begged the black men of Ferguson to stop tearing apart their own neighborhoods while imploring them to stop listening to Sharpton. Yet I throw Jessie Jackson in there as well because no matter what happens he's there mumble-mouthing his way through an incomprehensible speech that is designed to fan the flames of an already burning home. Arenas went on to say that Sharpton never helps the cause...he only makes it worse...and that black men all over this great land shouldn't be spoken for by such an ill-informed D.B. I'm right there with Arenas. And let's be straight here. What is happening in Ferguson, Missouri is do...

I can watch sit-coms over and over again. It sort of drives my beautiful wife crazy. She'd rather watch it once and then never again. And while I must admit that I've about run the route on Seinfeld ...there are other classics that can be on in the background as I type reports. Like Friends . Or the King of Queens And it got me thinking about the best ones I've ever seen. There were the ones when we were kids - Happy Days , The Jeffersons , Taxi , The Brady Bunch , Leave it to Beaver , Gilligan's Island . We saw them all, right? Most of them were really freaking stupid. I liked Taxi and Sanford & Son from the childhood days. Sanford was great when Redd Foxx was in it...horrible when Grady was there...so I guess I'll go with Taxi . As an adult I was really spoiled... Cheers, Wings, Frazier, Seinfeld, Friends, King of Queens ....hell I really loved Benson too! I'd watch Benson every day during college - my schedule allowed for it...and it w...

So...have you watched your friends dump buckets of ice water over their heads? I believe that I've seen at least 15 people do it...and it's all pretty funny, actually. Until you're nominated. And I was. But instead of doing it...I decided to make the donation to ALS. Now, I'm not a hater and I am certainly not afraid of getting cold as the water drenches me...I just thought 'I'd rather not do that.' So I won't. But the main thing is that there are a lot of people across the land who are willing to do all sorts of things in the name of treating a disease. Every single year there are at least 5 events for Breast Cancer research. The baseball players use pink bats and MLB makes a healthy donation. The football players wear pink cleats and armbands and the NFL donates 3% of the millions raised there...and they put the rest in their pocket. And I don't know what to think of all the raising money anymore. Are all the people dumping ...

So...the NFL commissioner, Roger Goodell came out front and center and said that for the Bills to remain viable in the league there would have to be a new stadium built. I guess viable to the league and viable to the people who are struggling to keep their heads above water are two different things. The Bills franchise is a cash cow. Saint Ralph Wilson...the guy who had his ass kissed for a hundred years...threatened to leave every time the lease was up...but he didn't...you know why? Because the freaking Bills...in Buffalo...are viable! He banked at least $35 million every year. And probably three times that figure. We won't know...because the "National Football League" (and have you ever noticed that every single announcer must say it complete...the "National Football League"...at least ten times in every interview) won't open their books. Goodell comes out and says that the Bills are a losing proposition in Buffalo and everyone falls...

People often ask about writing and I am fond of telling them that a story idea is like a bolt of lightning...that you can't run from...it keeps striking you over and over and over until you finish it. Nobody's Home was definitely like that. I grew up in North Collins, a great little town, but a town where two police officers were killed in the line of duty. I knew both officers, and one of the killers. I also knew all the kids who had the extreme misfortune of living with the killer. But I pushed it out of my head for years and years until my beautiful sister-in-law asked: "You know who I saw in church?" Then she told me about seeing the daughter of that killer...now with her kids...praying. And the lightning kept striking me at all angles. How do you go back to church? How do you even survive? Can I write something like that? A work of fiction based on real events? I set out. The book was named something different...I don't even remember...

We held off on the D.B. of the week this week - it will return to it's Thursday slot next week - I had decided to honor Robin Williams this Thursday. But we had a bunch of D.B.s of the week this week, to be sure. They work at the New York Daily News . That front page really bothered me. Robin Williams worked for the homeless. He did charity work for St. Jude's. He never turned down a fan who wanted a photo, or an autograph. The amount of money he raised for wonderful charities is astounding. And that's not to mention his career...which was incredible...cartoons for kids...movies for adults...laughter all around. And these rotten bastards send him out like that. I know that they are trying to sell papers. I realize that we need to go negative on every freaking story that's done. People want to bitch and moan and piss all over every single thing that the world has to offer. I remember going to the Children's Hospital when House of Miracles came o...

Michael Brown was college-bound. Just 18 years on the planet and now he's dead. What happened in the moments before he was shot to death is in dispute and there's a whole lot of anger in a suburb of St. Louis. The town of Ferguson, Missouri is two-thirds black and the people who police the area are mostly white. That's really a recipe for disaster as people are protecting and looting and vandalizing their own neighborhood as they protest the circumstances of Brown's death. The whole thing is really, really sad and I'm tempted to make a bit of a joke here because I heard Jessie Jackson speak on the matter, but I have no idea what Jessie was saying. Jesse really needs to be captioned. Yet none of it is anything less than disturbing to me because the death of Michael Brown will now be simplified into a black versus white thing. People who don't know the first thing about blacks will talk about why Brown was automatically a suspect. Blacks who hate...

Robin Williams always had a special place in my heart because I saw him at a concert that was actually a benefit for Neil Young's kid. The concert was in October of 1986 and it featured Springsteen, of course, in Mountain View, California. I saw the concert with my brother Jim and we often talk about that night because it was such a great show - Neil Young, Tom Petty, Glen Frye, Nils Lofgren, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Bruce, And Robin Williams. I recall that he spoke of giving up drinking because "you have to when you wake up naked on the hood of your car with your own keys stuffed in your ass." He went off, of course, and we laughed really hard. I also recall telling Jim that I missed half the jokes because I was laughing too much. Just a brilliant dude. And of course, we will never know the depths of his depression. He never showed it. He would make jokes about it, but it turned out not to be funny at all. And you wonder about all the comics who seem to...

The thing about the pepper party is that it gets bigger every year and it is about so much more than the peppers, of course. Corinne has a plaque with the winners names engraved on it, and for the uninitiated the party was started years ago by Jeff. He won that first contest with his entry. I also placed that year...with the peppers he stuffed for me without telling anyone. He most likely would be working on about ten straight by now because he was the king of the stuffed pepper. But we all try. And we've all got way better at it. But it's not just about the pepper as the above photo shows. My nieces and nephews beat the heck out of me, and I was laughing pretty much all the way through, but Johnny made a leap at me and I felt my legs wobble. He's getting big and strong. And you know who saved me? Yep...my beautiful wife...she chased all the kids away and stood in front of me, daring a kid to come near. They all backed off. But back to the contest. I ...

Of course, anyone who's known me understands that I've always been a world class athlete. I've been dominant in golf, basketball, softball, tennis...hell... in my mind I have dominated every single event I've ever participated in. Yeah. In my mind. That's me after most of the people left the tournament on Sunday. Yet...you must know...I dominated all weekend. I played golf on Saturday morning and I whipped a Baltimoron who was up for the visit. (Never mind that another Baltimore native beat me...I thumped the one guy I had to beat - 91 to 90). He stinks. Then there was the softball tourney. The Fuzzy boys went 3 for 3 to open up the game. In fact, we were 6 for our first 6. Never mind the fact that I never once touched first base because I wasn't running...I hit the ball okay. (Let's say I didn't embarrass myself). In my mind - I dominated. But that was the end result. When I put my feet into the two bags of ice I nearly w...

Love is an amazing thing when you're receiving it. The 4th Annual Memorial Softball Tourney for Jeff was held on a beautiful day. And I'm not talking about just the weather. During the day there were just so many wonderful thoughts that entered my mind. Playing softball with the same guys I grew up playing with was one of them. We had a rally where we scored a lot of runs and the same voices were saying the same things as we slapped hands. Mom sat on the Lions bench for part of one of the games and when Rocco scored from first on a hit (he was running for as many people who would let him) she stared out, eyes filled with tears. "How many times have you cried today?" I asked her. "A lot," she answered. Because of the love. The people of North Collins are incredible. Our Baltimore (and Delaware) family is always front and center...with more love. Life-long cherished friends. It really is amazing. I can't even possibly start naming na...

My Real Life was becoming somewhat complicated and my love of reading and writing was in true peril. I'd gone from eternally single to a wife, two kids and a dog. I was a little frightened that my schedule would be F&*#ed with. Would I never be able to write again? And I must admit, it took some moving around of things in the cluttered mental cage. I would have to write differently. I started carrying around note cards along with the black notebook. On each note card I'd write a quote with just the chapter number on it. I'd have that card with me all week long. I'd jot down cute little things and push the story forward each day. I also wanted to write funny again, and the story was about being disillusioned by life. In essence, we are not what we think we are. And man, let me tell you, it was fun. The most fun I've ever had writing a book, honestly. My brother Jeff fed me a lot of lines for the book as did my college roommate, Mike Palmer. They ...

We were discussing baseball the other day - go figure - my poor wife has to listen to the same discussion every night when all the boys are here. "The A's have the best record in baseball," Matt. "I'm not even sure the Yankees are going to make the playoffs," Jake. "27," Sam. Then I follow it all up and mention exactly why Sam is right and the other two are dopey bastards. Yet the photo of me, mom, my niece Andrea and my Mom has been sort of stuck in my mind lately. Here's another one. And I was telling my Syracuse great friends about our trip to Yankee Stadium. "Mom really wanted to see Jeter play there," I said. And it sort of hit me like a ton of bricks mid-thought. Mom is a Yankee fan to be sure. A bunch of people have taken to calling her Mrs. Jeter. Yet I doubt Mom could mention what position they're in or that Betances has a tremendous arm out of the bullpen. When she sees the Yankees she sees me, a...

You always hear people talking about the 'moments' in life and trying to cherish each and every great 'moment' so that the rest of the painfully ridiculous things in life don't cause you to jump out a 33rd story window somewhere. Sometimes the 'moments' come right when you're in the middle of being deathly tired or completely worn out. For me the summer is a true battle of getting everywhere and visiting all the sites I can fit into a work day. Most of the work days have ranged from 10 to 16 hours. A lot of time to think about being worn out. During this week some time was also spent in trying to set up things for a weekend where 'moments' will be made. 'Moments' with Jeff's kids. 'Moments' with family and friends. But there's still work to do to set up those 'moments'. Pops said 'Bah!' when I took the photo because he knew there was a blog coming. But I wanted to capture the pepper stuffing ...

What makes me think that the Donald could be a repeat performer on this list as dopey bastard or douche bag of the week? (Remember, only you can make that distinction). Yet, for the better part of the week I was considering using Ebola as the D.B. of the week because, after all, who wants to deal with a virus that results in veins exploding in your body as you writhe in agony? Ebola is not good news. Yet the Donald was worse than exploding veins when he callously stated that we needed to keep the doctors, who selflessly headed to West Africa to help once there was an outbreak...out of the country and away from help that might now save their lives! Yep. Donald went on a twitter rant where he said that those doctors needed to be kept out of the United States! "They knew the risks." The Donald further stated his 'walls around the country' theory because as we know, if you aren't white, and rich, you're just a piece of shit that shouldn't reall...

Sometimes people will ask me at a writing event who my favorite author is. Easy. Steinbeck. Then they'll ask which book. Easy. East of Eden. Here's why: And this I believe; that the free exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in this world. And this I would fight for; for the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against; any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about. I can understand why a system built on a pattern must try to destroy the free mind, for this is one thing which can by inspection destroy such a system. Surely I can understand this, and I hate it and I will fight against it to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost. Keep that free, exploring mind. It's valuable.

The donations are coming in! I need to win that plaque for my Yankee room. Or how about this one? Dave Neisser comes through every year and he takes it up a notch again - a Playboy Playmate model signs a photo directly to the tournament. Rocco will be there! Johnny will be there! Farrah will be there! Pops is stuffing peppers!!! Come on out and celebrate! We love to see each and every one!

Let me set the scene for such a colorfully titled blog. We went to an annual party for my beautiful wife's side of the family. Jack & Diane (I'm not kidding) throw the party each and every year at their beautiful home. The food is great. There are plenty of things for everyone to do for amusement, and the company is usually great - except my brother-in-law Michael wore a Boston Sux Sux shirt to annoy me and then he annoyed me further with his Palin-based political agenda. Anywhoha... There is a beautiful putting green on the property and I ambled over and grabbed a putter. Sam, who is tethered to my leg, also grabbed one. As did Michael and another-right-wing-nut, my nephew, Matt. The final putter went into my nephew Johnny's hands. And as usual, when men get together, it was quickly turned into a competition with my nephew Jake keeping it all in line we set off on a little tourney. There was only a single hole-in-one the entire time through. Johnny got it...

Oh what a book this monstrosity turned out to be. The finished book is about 300 pages. I must admit that I wrote about 750 pages to get it done. And then I re-wrote it completely. I chose the tile from a Dire Straits song where Knopfler screams: I've seen Desperation explode into flames. I wanted it to be Desperation Explodes Into Pain but my publisher thought it was too long of a title. But first things first. The book started with one idea: "What if I was born into a horrible life. Could I still be a good guy?" And that thought was after I read about a child being born into a toilet in the ghetto somewhere. The kid was saved, but was he? So I started off. I wrote the entire book introducing a truly horrible villain who I named after my Uncle Jim's Insurance brochure. Billy Barth was born. And I wrote and wrote and wrote and when I sent it to the publisher in about 1995 I was sure that the response would be overwhelming. But it wasn't...

It's pretty funny, actually. People are really torching Jon Bon Jovi in this town because he may or may not be affiliated with a group that has interests in Toronto and if successful with his bid, may move the beloved clown (oh, sorry) team, the Buffalo Bills there. So here in Buffalo they have stopped playing Bon Jovi in bars, and the rallying cry was offered by non-other than Andre Reed who is entering the Hall of Fame this year. $@%&*Bon Jovi!!! Where do I come in on this one? 1). I thought Andre Reed was great, but you know what the last play of the Bills-Giants game before Norwide went wide right? Yeah, Reed dropped a pass along the sidelines that would've made it a chip shot. Flat-out dropped it. So there's that. But he was Hall worthy. 2). I'm not a Bon Jovi fan. A couple of okay songs here and there, but he tried to imitate the real god of music from New Jersey and when they shared a stage at one of the benefits it was a little like having to...

It just kills me. Someone gets into trouble. Here's the full gamut of what they have to go through: 1). I can't talk right now. The legal team has told me to stay quiet. 2). I made a mistake. 3). I'm soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry. 4). I'm gonna' be the greatest human being for the rest of time now. I had the unfortunate luck to be exposed to the Ray Rice apology that was run on ESPN. He mentioned that: "Ray Rice wants Ray Rice to be the best Ray Rice that Ray Rice can be." And we all know how much I enjoy a good mention of your own name when you're speaking. He wouldn't talk about the incident. He spoke of the Bible. (Always bring out the Bible when hitting the high points). He was devastated by the 2-game suspension because he let his teammates down. Yet it pales in comparison with how he is punishing himself over this. He even mentioned the standing ovation that the lovely Ravens fans gave him bec...