Thoughts of a Common Man

On Saturday afternoon, Trump sent out a tweet that was one of the most pathetic things I’d ever seen. “Heading to the South Korean border and maybe Kim Jong will see this tweet and come by to say hello and shake my hand.” I’m not kidding. I’m paraphrasing a little, but his tweet was even more pathetic than that. I thought about a note that I might have written to my crush back in 9th grade. “I’m gonna’ be at the library in between 3rd and 4th period if you want to say ‘Hi.’” No one met with the North Korean leader through the years because he doesn’t deserve a seat on the world’s stage. For some reason, Trump is sending love letters. Then there is Saudi Arabia. They flat-out murdered an American-based reporter. “He denied it.” You know how many murderers locked up say that they’re innocent? Yeah. All of them. Trump believes people who deny the crimes. (Unless you’re black). Yet, the most pathetic display of affection was saved for Putin. They yucked it up

It’s a weird little field trip. The Yankees have been red-hot... ...a lot like the ‘98 team. I don’t expect them to lose. They were down 5-0 in the 2nd inning the other day, and I had little doubt that they’d score at least 5. They scored 8. Won 8-7 on a walk-off. 9 of 10 on their home stand, and then two days off to face the Red Sux twice in London. Do they even like baseball over there? I might want to go to London some day, but for now all I think of when someone mentions London is Chevy Chase driving around and around and looking at Big Ben. That and the weird accents and the bad teeth. I know those are all stereotypes, but the bad teeth is a thing! They make good television shows over there and we watch from time to time. “Don’t they have dentists?” I asked. Anywhoha... Yankees versus Sux. Yanks have a 9 game lead on them... ...my New England friends are talking about the Patriots. The Bruins got smoked in their own building in game 7. The Celti

I played in a golf tourney on Saturday. That was the good news. I was still playing when Sam sent me a text to tell me that Kathy was making a left-hand turn, and was at a dead stop when an elderly lady smashed into the back of her. At 45 MPH. Never touched the brake. “Is she okay?” Thankfully the answer was yes. In the unlikeliest of all things, her seat fell back! Makes little sense, but other than being sore... ...and then, I noticed that neither dog was moving. At all! “What’s wrong with the dogs?” By bedtime it was apparent that they were really sick. And that was a problem because Melky sleeps with me and she couldn’t make the climb, and that made her wail. Problem being, I had an early morning flight. At 3:30 I was awake, comforting her, and then I flew out, drove 400 + miles and visited 3 sites. “Your legs feel all right?” Kathy asked. “I’m too tired to know.” And then... ...”My mother is in the hospital.” Are you freaking kidding me???? “Wha

The names aren’t important. It’s a story that plays itself out all over the country. A two-year-old boy, (let’s call him Lyle) enters the home with his grandmother. She runs straight to the bathroom, setting her purse on the kitchen table. Lyle picks up her purse, unzips it, removes her teal-colored gun and promptly shoots himself in the face. They tried to save him, but he bled out before the ambulance arrived. Lyle’s grandpa was interviewed for the story, and he spoke about his grandson. “He was inquisitive and always getting into stuff. Guess his curiosity got the best of him. It’s nobody’s fault. Just an accident.” Bullshit. Had the kid fallen into an In-ground swimming pool without a fence there would be charges. Negligence. Pure and simple. Why are there never consequences when it comes to guns? The grandfather went on to say that the glock is to blame because it doesn’t have the proper safety features. Grandma leaving a loaded gun in the reach of a 24-m

The dogs both got sick on Sunday night. At 3:30 in the morning I heard Sam trying to comfort Melky, who was upset about not being able to make it upstairs. I had to be up by 5:00 anyway, and I knew the only way I could stop Melky from crying was to be near her. I slept on the couch beside her... ...and gave Sam some relief. “I feel so bad for her,” Sam said. “Get some sleep.” And I tell that story because it’s Sammy Boy’s birthday and I just wanted to show you the kind of guy he is. The best kind. He’s always willing to help (even if he whines once in awhile). He does what he’s supposed to do. He likes the Yankees. And he loves his family... ...including his dogs. Sam is the ultimate home guy... ...he’d rather be home than almost anywhere else in the world... ...and we’re good with that! So, Happy Birthday to our last born. A great kid... ...who’s gonna’ be a good man. Love you, buddy. Proud of you every day.

There’s a horrific video of a pathetic lawyer who was forced to try and defend that not providing soap, toothbrushes or beds in their little “concentration camps” is a sound place to be. The young, woman lawyer stammered her way through an absolutely idiotic argument. No soap, toothpaste or a bed? I can’t deal with any of it, actually. It’s an absolute mess... ...and I know that rushing the border for entrance needs to be curtailed as well. But regardless of whether or not you believe it, people with brown skin are human beings! A young kid taking care of a younger kid. No diapers. Bunked in cages like cattle. In the United States of America???? While the Trump kids spend millions meeting the queen and millions and millions are spent for the golf carts for the secret service so king sh*t can play 3 rounds a week? I watched an interview with a border control guy who was asked about the dismal conditions in the “camps”. “I ain’t got nothing against the children,

The 27-Time World Champion Greatest Franchise in the History of Organized American Sports... ...the New York F****ng Yankees... ...are powerful! Stanton, Judge, Encarnacion, Gleyber, and Sanchez are massive men. Two of them, Sanchez and Encarnacion are tied for the American League lead in home runs. And my boys can pitch too. The bullpen is great. The starters are good. They survived one injury after another and they not only hung in there when everyone was hurting, they grabbed hold of first place. A couple of weeks ago, they were scuffling. Lost 3 of 4 or something like that, and there was some angst here at Camp Clifford because the Rays and Astros were coming to town. Then the homers started flying. They have homered in 24 straight games. They swept the Rays. “We’re going to see what they’re made of with Houston coming in,” one of the ESPN talking heads said. They pounded them on Thursday. Hammered them on Friday. Two more homers. And my anti-Yanke

It happens every single day. A spoken word, a song, a baseball trivia question, or just a deep, gnawing ache... ...it calls to mind my brother, Jeff. I still can’t believe he isn’t here because it feels like he is. But damn, some of the light went out. Today is his birthday. A whole bunch of us are going to play golf. I’m sure that I will hear the: “Oh, that’s a shame,” about a half dozen times when someone misses a putt. The stories will be flying around. I’ll probably cry laughing somewhere along the way... ...and the fact that the golf tourney lands on his birthday is outstanding because it’s the type of event he would have loved. There’s so much I miss... ...and I hold it, but don’t let it tear me apart... ...yet what I miss the most was how he kept us all together. “I got an idea,” he’d say, and next thing I’d know, there would be about ten of us together... ...eating, drinking and laughing. Happy Birthday, Brother. I know you feel it... ...so

I’m an optimistic guy. I’m actually a problem-solver too. I start my days thinking about the problems I have to solve, and I gain my satisfaction solving them, whether it’s at work or home or in the next thing I’m writing. My frustrations gather when I can’t solve them in the time-frame I’ve given myself. This past week has made me a little dizzy... ...because of a song. Moonlight Motel off the excellent new Springsteen record, “Western Stars” hit me as hard as a song ever has. The narrator is back in a place that he visited as a much younger man. He remembers the love and peace and beauty... ...but the place is now a dump. It’s a huge metaphor about things breaking down, decaying, and dying. Yet the narrator is still alive, and he’s picking through the rubble in his mind. It hammered me. I visited the past... ...and got caught mourning. I’m an optimist!! But I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss that the lyrics hammered home. I wasn’t depressed. It didn’

Hard to imagine that the people gathered in Florida are buying it again. Fat Nixon was on the attack again... ...he attacked... ...wait for it... ...Hillary Clinton. He thinks she belongs in jail for her email. Even though everyone in his cabinet is doing it. Even though his son-in-law tried to set up a back channel with Russia. Even though they want nothing to do with answering any questions about anything. Subpoenas don’t matter. Facts don’t matter. Clinton belongs in jail! He was just getting started. “The Democrats want to destroy the country. That’s what they want!” Really? That’s the goal? “They’re saying that we are putting people in concentration camps! That’s not true!” He’s calling out lies now? I didn’t listen to the rest of that one. I imagine that he justified it all by saying they were just keeping the nice Mexican kids in pretty cages, and that they’re really having fun when they’re crying for their parents. Immigration is a tough issue

Quite late to the party, but we’re watching the show ‘Transparent’. First off, it’s good... ...pretty funny and kind of wild. The grown Dad decides that he’s been living his life in the wrong body all along, and starts wearing women’s clothes. The first few episodes is about breaking the news to his grown children. “You should do that,” Kathy said. “What?” “We’ll dress you up like a woman. Then we’ll make sure the kids catch you. You can act surprised that they caught you.” We both started laughing. “It would scar them for life,” I said. And it’s not that we’re against anyone else doing such a thing, but it would certainly make my boys lose it. “I’d look good, too,” I said. “Hideous,” Kathy said. “A dress, a wig, lipstick, pearls...and I could be sitting there putting on my makeup when they come in,” I said. Transparent. It’s really a pretty good show. I don’t think I could do that to my boys, though... ...and Kathy is most likely right. Hideous!

My kids have no idea. I’ve been following the Yankees, religiously, for most of my life. “What time are the Yankees on?” Has been a question that I’ve asked myself, every day, for decades. About 175 games a year (with playoffs) over the last 47 years. I don’t watch them all, but I always know the score. There are very few games that I can recall almost in their entirety. On June 17, 1978, Ron Guidry struck out 18 in a 4-hit, complete game shut-out of the Angels. The reason I remember it so vividly is because we couldn’t get the game! It was only on the radio... ...the station was coming to us on the AM-band out of New York. Scooter was on the call. And what I remember best? Finding my Dad that evening. “Dad, Guidry has 8 strikeouts. In the 4th inning!” Dad joined me at the kitchen table to listen. We were spinning a dead dial. Scooter was in and out. We tried foil on the antenna. Caught another inning. Gator was up to 11 K’s. “I got an idea,” Dad said.

I have no idea how many people follow me on Facebook or Twitter or even read this blog. I don’t know how many books I’ve sold of any of my titles, and people are shocked when I say that I don’t care. I truly don’t. Yet, I saw something yesterday that I cared. O.J. Simpson posted a video to Twitter that announced that he was joining the platform so he could clear things up and “get back” at people. Orenthal has a somewhat spotty history of getting back at people. He nearly cut off two heads to get back at his ex and her friend. A few hours after the announcement he had a couple hundred thousand followers. By Sunday afternoon he had a half-a-million. Why? What the hell is wrong with people? And, of course, the Juice has always been able to get people to look at him. My problem is that it isn’t about him! Are you following him? If so, think of what it says... ...about you! What can he provide? Wisdom? A path to the real killers? Golf tips? Are you looki

There are still too many days when I think about grabbing the phone and calling my Dad. Just goofy little things, you know? Like a baseball game, or something that happens with the kids. I just miss those little things. The big things? I carry them with me every day. His work ethic, his sense of humor, his passion for family, love and friends. I think of him every time I cook. I hear his voice in my ear as I cut up the onions and garlic. Day after day, night after night... ...he’s right here. But it’s not the same. Dad was great at making each kid feel special. He’d send me a letter with a little money in it. I do that with the boys... ...hand them some cash when they least expect it. “You’re doing okay.” Three words that are important for a son to hear from a Dad. On Saturday afternoon, I put the Bruce song on, and broke it down for Jake and Sam. I stopped it at the important parts, explained the writing and the symbolism. We just went over it for

Springsteen put out 3 songs over the last month. I loved all of them, but Tucson Train was my clear favorite. The record was finally released on Jake’s Birthday, late in the day. I was coming off a trip from Kansas that included a three-hour delay which left me in Chicago for like 5 hours. Wandering around a jam-packed airport isn’t fun. But Bruce was waiting for me on Friday morning, tired or not. The first listen was to just hear how they sounded. The second listen got me to the words. Moonlight Motel jumped out at me. By the time I knew all the words, I was hooked. It’s absolutely beautiful, brilliant and mind-numbingly stunning. The Motel was once an amazing place... ...it’s decayed in the present day. The hero of the song is thinking back in time... ...to the girl he once took to the Motel. Their love is no more. The Motel pool is empty with dandelions growing up through the concrete. He recalls a half-drunk beer with her breath in his ear. Everyt

Seriously. What in the hell is going on? Scott Warren, for the uninitiated is a 36-year-old teacher who resides in Tucson. He also volunteers in a group called “No More Death.” The purpose of the group is to stem the tide of deaths of migrants who try and cross the desert. I don’t much care for calling a human being an illegal. I’m not for what the men and women are doing as the proper process should be followed to gain entrance to the country, and crossing a desert is a risky proposition. I guess that not every migrant has the chance to enter by modeling for nude magazines and then get in on an ‘Einstein Grant’ because... ...ah well, you know. Then she dragged her entire family with her in a clear chain migration situation, but enough about the First Lady, that stuff is frowned upon now, because we are full. But kids in cages? Letting men and women burn to a crisp in the desert... ...and charging people with a felony for placing water out there so they don’t die a

What a ride! From the moment he emerged he’s amazed me. I recall seeing his little feet first, and knowing that I had living proof that God played a part. And he was defiant from that day forward. He hated me! It was Kathy or my mother-in-law for him. If I approached, he wailed. So, I tried to stay clear. I remember a Saturday morning when I wanted to let Kathy sleep in. Jake was going nuts. I got him in the bouncy chair and settled in a few inches away. I was scared out of my mind. He reached out and cuffed the coffee cup out of my hand, and all over him. I screamed. He screamed and Kathy didn’t sleep in. Yet, the coffee wasn’t hot. But it made me so fearful. Of anything bad happening to him! Then he got sick and that sense of fear went to the thousandth power. Now? Jake is twenty-two today. Healthy. Smart. Funny as hell. We trade examples of great writing in songs and on shows. We talk sports, and life. And I’d do anything for him. But the fe

The title of his blog is a fact. Dan Marino tore his and was never the same. Kobe Bryant tore his, stood up, hit two free throws and then walked off. He missed a year. Was never the same. I tore mine. A famous story. I never, and I mean never hit home runs in softball. That night at Renaldo Stadium, I tripled my first time up. The center fielder was playing me in to cut off my patented single and I hammered it over his head. Next time up, he moved back a little, but was still daring me to do it again. I did. Rounded second and thought, “I can walk the rest of the way.” Then it happened. My muscle exploded. I won’t tell you again about JC’s horrible misdiagnosis, the beer I drank that delayed the operation, and the horrible next three months. It was awful. Huge, hard cast from ankle to mid-thigh. I was living alone, and I was helpless. And boy did I whine!! Thing is, I did play softball the next year, and we won another title! I also continued to dominate o

Went to sleep at the usual time on Sunday night, and then my teenage dog needed a drink of water. I picked up my phone to check the time and saw a news alert. “David Ortiz, former Red Sox great, shot!” Even with sleep threatening me, I had to read it. To make sure that the guy I hated seeing come to the plate... ...was okay. Back about 17 years ago, in the height of Yankees-Red Sox mania my boss came through! He got me 4 tickets for Yankees-Red Sox at the Stadium. We were in the front row too, directly across from Giambi at first. Unbelievable seats! Before the game, Jeter came over and pulled the cap down over Matt’s eyes after rubbing his head. Then David Ortiz came out. With a huge smile in place, Big Papi signed every ball for every kid. Matt, was dressed like the Yankees ball boy and was afraid to look at Ortiz because he knew I wasn’t a fan. Ortiz stopped in front of both of us and looked down at Matt. “Want me to sign?” He asked. Matt looked at me.

Sometimes golf can really get on your nerves. Every once in a blue moon, you hit a perfect shot. There was a little of each going on yesterday. We had our usual 4-some together, and we had the perfect tee-time: 7:50 a.m. And then we all got out of the gate slow! I actually got an 8 on the 2nd hole. Hit a nice 75-yard shot out of a bunker that was 10 yards from the pin. It was time to regroup. Went walking after my ball on the 3rd hole to talk to myself a little. Team meetings in golf are a lonely thing. By the 5th hole my shots were back. I got in a groove. So did everyone else. Collectively we had 15 pars and 3 birdies. On a short par 3, I hit a ball that was headed straight for the pin. It just rolled by the hole. Then JC hit it closer. I closed out the par. He 3-putted, but he just missed a hole in one on the 17th hole and made that birdie putt. Pops chipped one in from 30 yards out. A lot of fist-bumping going on. The weather was perfect. Life is

70 degrees and sunny. I love these days. Up and down the block the neighbors were all out... ...lawns being mowed, weeds being yanked, dogs being walked. I headed out early enough. Sam was going off to work. “I work until five,” he said. “I’ll mow the lawn when I get home.” “The garage!” I said. “You have to clean that!” I put some tunes on. Yanked some weeds. The hip is barking, and I have a cortisone shot coming but damn! It was nice out! Six hours later, the Yankees were on. I was on the couch with ice. “I’ll get the lawn before I go to Matt’s to dog sit,” Sam texted. “It’s done,” I answered. “I wanted to do it.” “Okay, haha. I’ll clean the garage then.” “That’s done too,” I answered. I waited for a moment and watched the little thought bubble. “You’re insane,” he wrote. Tell me something I don’t know kid! “The hot sun will clear your mind and body. Hard work will take away the pain.” That’s a line from Tucson Train... ...the great new Bru

“You can hear it if you listen, if you really take the time. If you listen past bravado, if you listen past the whine. Everyone’s so busy. The truth gets left behind. The truth gets left behind. In the light of understanding, the darkness dies at dawn The winter falls behind us, the summer comes along. We all need believing so we can carry on. Carry on. I am always here for you, every night and day. I’ll keep a light on for you and help you find your way. When the world becomes indifferent, the words become unclear. If you listen past the anger, if you listen past the fear, Everyone’s elusive, but the truth is always near. If you listen you will hear. When your dreams are far away, When the doubts begin again, I am here for you, Until you dream again.”

Seventy-Five Years. It was traumatic to look at some of the photos. So many lives lost before they even got started. I read an interview with a 92-year old man. He was 17. Said that he didn’t know what he was doing. He’d hear the approach of the coming bombs and they’d all hide from the shrapnel. At 17 years old! And it’s hard to dispute that it was the greatest generation. One that was willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the country. For freedom. Seventy-five years later? You wonder, don’t you? The country is very divided, and I’m not quite sure that so many men would head over to possibly give their lives in the defense of anything. Maybe I’m wrong. We did see some sense of unity after 9/11. It dissipated. Yet, for me, I don’t romanticize death much. I know the history. I can’t truly comprehend such bravery, but all of those men deserve to be honored and praised. I’ve read all about D-Day, of course. The story of the Allied Forces at Omaha

So, the climate change debate is raging again. I read a long article about how it’s all gonna’ end by 2050 because we’re going to burn the hell up. I’ll be 86 that year. I’m imagining that I’ll be begging to get out by then. Of course, that’s just them brainy scientists talking. They’re probably being a tad dramatic as they’re trying to get someone to actually do something to change the course of things. Trump doesn’t believe it... ...so he’s dragging his 30% with him. “What do those science geeks know? It snowed this winter!” Some of it bores me because it’s kinda’ like knowing that 4 out of 5 dentists approve of tooth paste, but we decided to hear what the 5th guy wanted to say. Yet, we start talking about the end of time maybe we’ll listen a little. I don’t want to be standing in line at the end. That might be the deal if we all go as once. Up or down. There will be long-ass lines either way. I’m pretty sure that there won’t ever be a consensus on all of

That whole royalty gig is lost on me, but I kinda’ dig the queen. She’s got a look to her, and I heard that the tiara she plucked for the state visit of the American President was one that wards off evil. She didn’t just pick one out of the closet. And man, sad to say, but Donald looks woefully out of place in the fancy clothes. There was one shot where people seemed to be running for cover, believing that buttons were about to fly. I’m not picking on him for his weight, but sometimes that orange hair and forced smile is too much to take in, especially when he’s got on the good clothes. It’s also quite embarrassing to see how he’s being treated by the people over there... ...he’s garnering the sort of respect he gets here. The baby 👶 Trump is flying high. The streets are empty. There’s a new characterization of him on a toilet, tweeting. “I have only seen one small protest. The rest is fake news.” Then we pan out to see thousands gathered... ...all gathering in

So, I had a couple three days with the wife in celebration of our wedding anniversary. We got a hotel room and went to dinner and spent nearly every waking minute together. A hell of a way to celebrate. And 25 years into knowing one another and 22 years of marriage allows you to break each other’s chops... ...constantly. We were on the way home and I was driving. Coming down the skyway and pulled to a stop at a red light that was a long way off. Or so I thought. Three straight cars went by me on the left and cut back into the lane in front of me. “They’re cutting in.” Kathy started laughing. “You know why, dumbass? You’re behind a parked car.” I didn’t have a lot to say to that, and in between guffaws she said: “There’s a blog for you.” Still didn’t have anything to say. Had to take it. It only took about a half an hour for me to get an answer. “Defrost the hamburger for dinner,” I said. (We’ve owned the microwave for all 22 years). “What are you doing

We import goods from China. We import goods from Mexico. We eat, sit on, use tools, ride bikes, drive cars. The trade deficits that we have with these countries is because of a couple of things: Demand. We want goods and if we had our way we’d like them cheap. Like MAGA hats. They were made in China even though they could’ve been made here. Whoever bought those lids bought them for China because they were cheaper... ...and when sold for $30 on the candidates web page... ...more money was made. Putting a tax on tariffs will not hurt the country selling the product. They will likely change their price. So, for example: Wal-Mart orders widgets from China. They are wildly popular widgets that Americans buy, regardless of where they come from. Let’s say they were bulk-ordered for $10 a widget. A tariff has been added. China won’t pay the difference. They’ll raise the price to $12.50 a widget. Wal-Mart, Who never met a nickel they didn’t want to squirrel a

It’s a day of family, and Italian heritage, and the story is muddled. It’s kind of a Wimpy, “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday” situation. An uncle who owed money and promised to it it back on “June the 2.” And it makes me think of my Uncle Jim, which isn’t a problem because I think of him a lot and it hurts less now... ...now I smile some. And Uncle Jim was a great eater and a Yankees fan and he was always steady in his love. I swear, it brings tears to my eyes every time I think of how he called me to make sure I know how loved I was after we lost Jeff and then Dad. He’d just call. Make me smile. And more than his ‘candy ass’ comment when we wondered who’d eat the last stuffed pepper what I remember about Uncle Jim was how steady he was... ...and how much he loved his family. That makes a man a success. A wild success. He had Kristen in that house, driving him crazy! That ain’t easy! And man, we all included him. “Call Uncle Jim,” was the rallying cry. I r

Robert Mueller has to be disgusted. He spent two years working on a report that detailed an attack on the country and the potential crimes of the freaking president of the country and... ...it appears that NO ONE READ THE FREAKING THING! Mueller than stands up on Wednesday morning and says: We didn’t exonerate him and if we could have, we would have indicted him. Sarah Huckleberry Sanders immediately stood up and said: THE EXACT OPPOSITE THING!!! We are in the middle of a freaking kindergarten class, people, and Mueller has to be absolutely disgusted. I AM! “The President is in a bad mood,” one of the talking heads said. WHO CARES??? Will it upset his 3 rounds of golf this week? Yet, the thing that gets me is that the members of Congress haven’t read the damn report. “My wife and I are very busy each day getting our kids off to school and then we have to get ourselves to work.” That’s what one of the dipsh*t senators said. It’s 450 pages! I read it the f