Thoughts of a Common Man

I had the great misfortune of having to spend an afternoon and most of the evening and into the night and damn near into the next day embroiled in a healthcare situation. What a mess we’re in. It starts with the primary doctor who is essentially useless. I don’t even bother to go there for my own health care needs because they do nothing for me. Ever. I had one episode where the nurse practitioner started it all by asking me what “Do you think it might be?” “How the hell do I know? I’m a safety guy and a writer. I feel like crap. You tell me.” She looked as if I slapped her. The primary doctors are also scared of their own shadows. “The insurance company may deny the x-Ray.” “We don’t like to prescribe anything stronger than Ibuprofen. You can may be able to get something over the counter that might help.” I pay a co-pay for that? And of course, prices are ridiculous. If they give you a saline drip it’ll run about a grand. It’s salt water! Back to the latest visit. The receptionist was

Read a story about a Texas man who took his 11-year-old daughter hunting with him. He shot and killed her. Mistook her for a deer. There was also a story about a man who brought a gun to a kid’s birthday party. It went off and a 10-year-old was shot. There were no charges filed. Every city, every weekend, death. We caught the 48 Hours on the Aubery case. Those 3 men (who were rightly convicted) truly believed that they had every right to hunt and kill that kid. For snooping around a construction site? I have come to accept the fact that there is a large population of people who think much differently than me. Especially regarding the need to bring a gun with them everywhere they go. The fact that the kid killed two people at a protest, and got cleared of all charges was incredibly disconcerting to me. Vigilantism won’t work. There are too many people who are one thought away from immersing themselves into a real life game of ‘Call of Duty’. Rittenhouse fancied himself a cop and a medic

I’m a man who fights an internal battle each and every day. I have one question that needs to be constantly answered: “Is everything all right?” It’s a question I ask myself in the morning and at night before I go to bed. The thing about life is that most days not EVERYTHING is all right. There are usually some loose threads. When the kids were young that question got obliterated every day. I went to bed exhausted and oh, the clutter! Taught me to be patient. For a little while there. Anyway, I found all sorts of ways to entertain the kids and if something interested them I strongly encouraged it. I got a whole lot of mileage out of Godzilla, King Kong and Alien versus Predator. I made a sort of tactical error when I grabbed the Schwarzenegger Alien movies, though.  I had never seen those particular flicks.  Had no idea that there was strong language throughout. Cut to Sam’s first day of kindergarten at Sacred Heart.  We waited for the bus at the foot of the driveway. Kathy had the cam

I was in the 7th grade. I remember that specifically because I had a Pittsburgh Steelers shirt that year. Here’s how the story goes: “Cliff! Let’s go! School!!” It was Dad shaking me awake, which wasn’t unusual. He got us up in shifts so that the bathrooms weren’t always occupied.  It was my turn to be first out of bed. I was foggy, but all my life, my first inclination is to get showered. I’m the same way to this day. I got showered, and headed downstairs. Everything was pretty quiet in other areas of the house, but the kitchen light was on and Dad was at the table. I was wearing that Steelers shirt. (I wasn’t a fan of the team…I sort of liked the colors). That got Dad talking about football…something he knew little about…so it was all a tad strange. 1976. The Bills had Ferguson and Orenthal. I had a bowl of Honeycomb, but I kept drifting back towards sleep. Also strange. “What’s wrong with you?” Dad finally asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m beat.” My wonderful Dad started laughing.

I have to tell this story. In December of 1992, the owner of the company I worked for called me to his office to ask me why I had scheduled vacation days for 12/24, 12/26 & 12/27, “For Christmas,” I said. “Christmas is canceled,” he responded. “You’re going to Sioux City, Iowa on the 18th. We’ll try to get you back for New Year’s Eve.” I kept saying that I wasn’t going, but there I was on the 18th, on a plane, settled between Pete & Mike - two seasoned iron workers who drank beer as if it were iced tea. On the 20th we worked all day, right up to an hour before the Bills-Saints game was set to start. The plan was to grab a couple cases of beer and 3 large pizzas. We also picked up a truck driver, Dan, who had made the cross country trip in a tractor-trailer. Dan had parked the truck and gone straight to a strip-joint where he proceeded to drink a dozen beers while we finished up our work. We grabbed Dan (who was plastered) at the strip joint and had a few beers and then went to

  Thanksgiving is all well and good, but today we also celebrate the birth of a legend! My Mommy! Our Mommy! She’s the biggest dog lover of all of us. She may be the only person I know who has read more books than me. She spent so many Thanksgivings making the perfect dressing. I tell my kids about how tirelessly she worked. The Fazzolari work ethic? Dad never missed a day of work out on the sites. Mom seriously outworked him, and the rest of us inside the home. My clothes would hit the hamper, and the next day they’d be back, folded, clean in my dresser drawer. And man, Covid has hurt Mom. We’ve all been afraid to get her sick. We are visiting and calling and Corinne is an absolute 😇 - but when I think of the cost of this damn pandemic I will consider how it turned living into isolation for Mom and for my wife. But today, I will celebrate all the love I feel in my heart for my Mom…Dad, and my mother in law and father in law and my siblings and siblings in laws  Friends too… Thankful

I’ve always enjoyed Billy Crystal, in movies, on television and for being a longtime Yankees fan. About a month ago I saw a copy of his autobiography in a bargain bin for a dollar. Of course I bought it and I’ve always enjoyed autobiographical stories because you truly feel as if you know the author and it’s kind of a walk through time as you think about their careers. He was Jody on Soap, Harry in ‘When Harry Met Sally’, DeNiro’s therapist and he worked closely with Robin Williams. Let’s not forget, ‘Throw Momma from the Train’ with DeVito. And a good Dad too. What’s funny about the autobiography of the big stars is that they all seem to gloss over the getting famous part. It’s always like it just sort of naturally happened. Good for them, I guess. But there’s always hard work and sacrifice involved as well. He did the comedy show routine and spent time away when his family is young. There is one drawback to reading autobiographies though. I’m always hesitant to read a book by a celeb

I’ve always envied my brother’s birthday. He was born on a historical day. 11/22/63 The day one John left the world and another John made a grand entrance. And Mom always told the story perfectly. She woke to a crying nurse just a few hours after giving birth. “Why are you crying?” Mom asked. “He’s dead,” the clueless nurse said. “Who’s dead?” “The president!” The nurse said between sobs. “Get the hell out of here!” Mom yelled. “I thought you were crying for my son, you stupid son of a bitch!” And Dad was not to be out done. They asked if he was named ‘John’ in honor of JFK. “John is my name,” he said. “We had picked out Oswald, but the shooting changed our minds.” And John certainly has been a great big brother from day one. I came along 11 months later and the stories go that he used to climb into my crib, take my bottle, and go back to his crib to finish it. They had to put a cage over his. Happy Birthday!🎁  We love you!

 Mellencamp has a line in one of his old tunes that I think about a lot: “Sometimes life is just too ridiculous to live.” A downer of a line coming from the same guy who wrote: “Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone.” I’m as steady as they come, I suppose. I keep my feet churning forward, so when a week like this week where Kathy has struggled, where she had a tooth broke and where her pain levels are high… …I’m there. “Thank you,” she said late yesterday. “Yeah.” Sam and Jake always need help too… …push forward. Dad is here. Steady, The backstop who catches all errant throws home. It’s in the job description when they first place the child in your hands in the hospital maternity ward. Worst part about parenting, though, is watching them walk into the walls that life puts up in front of you. Ridiculous. “Hang in there, buddy, we’ll figure it out,” I texted to Jake during the week .. …he’s all good… …was just bemoaning the craziness. Then, this morning, Matt sent around

I knew the tweet was coming. I could’ve predicted the sender and the wording: “Not guilty on all counts!” The trial appeared to be going that way, I suppose, and I can’t even comment on it because I didn’t watch it. Couldn’t watch it. Didn’t and don’t want to read about it. I don’t even want to write that kids name anywhere. Two people dead. That wouldn’t have happened had he not left home armed and looking for a gun fight. Had that kid stayed home that night those people would still be breathing. Self-defense? I’ve had a number of scenarios run through my mind.  What if he had been a black 17-year old? I think he would’ve been found dead at the scene. What might happen if two protesters show up at a rally for a twice impeached new candidate, armed with AR-15’s? Can they now shoot anyone they want? Vigilante justice can’t be the law of the land.  Was his presence really required that night? He wasn’t a medic. Wasn’t a cop. Wasn’t even his home. He was just someone entering an unstable

There are a lot of gut rehab projects around Buffalo. Huge buildings that used to be home for thriving businesses are sitting empty, waiting to be re-worked, or torn down. I don’t know why, but it always depresses me! It also interests me immensely as I often wander around, looking for signs of life. It’s almost as though I’m one of those characters in an Armageddon movie who picks through the debris left by all those who have perished. (Well, that’s depressing). Yesterday I spotted a plaque for ‘Employee of the Month’ which was awarded to someone named Phyllis Harris, back in 1991. I was obviously in Phyllis’ office as I spotted a bill with her name on it from National Fuel. Phyllis didn’t leave much behind, but she didn’t take the tiny plaque with her name engraved on it. I wondered if it once meant something to her.  Did they give her a $20 gift card to JC Penny? Did she go home and announce it to her family? Where is she now? I’m thinking Phyllis was an administrative assistant of

I have a friend who has been in the hospital for more than a month now. He spent two weeks on a ventilator, and there were a lot of questions about whether he would live or die. A few days after coming off the vent he said, “Man. Crazy shit.” I’m glad he’s still with us, and I look forward to seeing him soon. I was actually on my way to visit him, but he wasn’t comfortable seeing his friends. “I don’t want people to see me like this,” he said.  Sad stuff. Last month I visited the work bench of a man who passed away due to Covid. He was just 52 years old. His family is a mess. So, I didn’t hesitate to get vaccinated back in April. I have even less hesitation in getting the booster shot tonight. I realize that there are zero guarantees. I may still come down with it, but I do believe that being vaccinated may save my life. The man who survived, but had been on the vent for a couple of weeks was indeed vaccinated. He is also in his mid-70’s and has underlying conditions. His vaccination d

I’ve always been a good dreamer, and I enjoy it when I remember them and they make some sense. I particularly enjoy dreaming about people from my past, and especially those who have left us. Those visits usually make me smile the next morning. Every now and again, I will have a wild one, and I wake up wondering what the hell it means. Years ago, I bought my Grandma’s house in the city of Buffalo. We lived in that home for a few years before moving to a bigger home with the kids. Last night, in my dreams, I was back in Grandma’s home, looking out the window on a summer day. The television was on and I was watching a black and white movie when I heard an argument outside. I looked straight into the eyes of a white man who was brandishing a gun as he chased a Hispanic man. The white man took two shots, dropping the Hispanic man in the street before turning the gun in my direction. He shouted, “You’re next!” And I woke up.  A cold chill raced up and down my spine, but he hadn’t gotten the

Stray thought time. Grandma Fuzzy was an amazing cook. The best part about it though was that she was a creature of habit too! She baked fresh bread every day, and there was always pasta! Sometimes pasta was the bases of the daily lunch. Other times there was meat involved. Pork chops or steak or chicken… …but there was a pasta featured as a side. As the grandkids we had an open invitation, of course, but we had to show up early enough to give her a chance to make enough. She was tremendous at putting tomatoes in a pan and whipping up a marinara. (I’m drooling). Grandma wasn’t the reason for this blog though. It was another guy’s grandma! She was Italian-American as well. One fine day, about 40 years ago, my buddy said, “Let’s go to MY grandma’s for lunch.” We walked in and the aroma of garlic and onions and olive oil smacked me in the face. “Sit! Sit! Sit!” She said, and she slapped a huge bowl of pasta and beans in front of me. There were huge hunks of pork too. What I remember most

Our cleaning lady was here early on Sunday morning, and by the time the Bills started we were sitting in a truly cleaned up house. Even Sam’s room and Oliver’s little alcove were cleared of debris. All the laundry is done and put away, and on Sunday night we appeared ready for the week ahead. I checked the weather and it’s a mixed bag with temperatures ranging from the 30’s to the 60’s with all sorts of precipitation. Ice, sleet, snow, rain. I preach a lot about routines around these parts, and the Camp appears to be closed for the season, but for a few minutes on Sunday, as the Bills pummeled the Jets it seemed as though we were cleared for take-off. The thing about life, though, is that you can prepare all you want, and turmoil will soon follow. I’ve kept an eye on the January 6th news and it certainly is stomach-churning. It appears as if there was a conspiracy in real time in that administration, and I certainly think it is being undersold, There was an attempt to thwart an electio

The puppy had no idea what the hell was going on. In years past I’ve enjoyed the first snowfall of the year. Those days are long gone now. “Oh God!” I yelled as Kathy drove to breakfast right through a winter wonderland. (There was good news - there were potato pancakes on the menu and I devoured them, but saved one for Mom). “It is the middle of November and we do live in Buffalo,” Kathy mentioned. “Still sucks.” I was thinking about the iced windshields, and the cold mornings, and my ice cold feet, and sore joints. All garbage. “I’m thinking it’s going to be in the 50’s next week,” Kathy said, in an effort to talk me off the ledge. But it’s coming. When I first saw the snow I instantly thought about February which is 28 days of pure hell. (Other than watching Brady dance in the confetti). There will be a search for the hoodie to wear under the high-visibility coat. I don’t take that hoodie search lightly because once I put it on I’ll wear it for 4 months straight. I’ll also be search

It appears that the big blotchy guy, Steve Bannon, will face consequences by ignoring a Congressional subpoena. Whole bunch of others are also facing a decision of whether to show up or not. Mark Meadows skipped his date too so he may also be charged. Crazy. It got me thinking of a court case that I had once. If you’ve ever been in court you know that you need to tow the line, right? I didn’t once. I drove into a police roadblock in my hometown and I knew the cop, of course. It was his first week on the job. “Fuzz, your registration is overdue.” “I have it,” I said. “I just didn’t put the sticker on the windshield.” I handed it over and my friend the cop looked nervous. “Man, I have to give you a ticket. My boss is watching. I’ll write on the bottom that you had it and the judge will toss it.” “Whatever you need to do.” Two weeks later I ended up in a packed courtroom thinking that I would be in and out quickly enough to make it to my softball game. The judge entered and pointed at me:

I heard a snippet of a few Christmas songs on a commercial and man… …it ruined my day! The one that got stuck in my head was the abysmal Bing Crosby one. Horrible! I just kept singing it over and over in my head and on a day that was about sixty degrees… …well, let’s just say I was a tad annoyed. Of course, I enjoy a version of ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ that is performed by a certain singer from New Jersey and the E-Street Band… …but chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Boo! Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer?? Bah! I’m dreaming of a white Christmas??? I’m hoping it’s 60 from now until April when we start hitting the 70’s… …and that dope singing it is dreaming of snow? I can listen to the Billy Squier one and the George Michae one and of course Dominick the Donkey… …but only once apiece with those. There are radio stations that are playing straight Christmas tunes for another six weeks! I heard five lines from one song, and couldn’t shake it. Going to be a long holiday season.

I saw the video of the crying that Rittenhouse did on the stand. I also saw footage of him in a bar, laughing and wearing a shirt about being free. I read all the comments about how he should be found not guilty because he was acting in self-defense or to stop property from being damaged. I wondered how those comments would read if Rittenhouse were black. Extremely differently, I believe. His mother loaded him, as a 17-year-old, with a gun, into a car and drove him into a protest zone. He shot and killed two people and wounded another. They weren’t shooting at him. He didn’t have a badge. And it makes me pretty sick that the judge is behaving as though the kid is a hero worthy of praise. The crying jag that he went on was fairly embarrassing. I’ve never seen anyone cry like that. Perhaps that’s how he cries, but it seemed to be well-rehearsed. I imagine that whether he’s innocent or guilty is split along the wonderful party lines that have been drawn, but anyone actually rooting for so

We were having pork chops for dinner. We were also celebrating a little too because my sister Corinne had received her driver’s license, that very day, in the mail. Problem being, we were a box short of Shake & Bake. A perfect storm. I popped out into the kitchen to see when the chops would be done. “Where’s Corinne?” I asked. “She went to the store,” My Dad said. And the lights went out. Literally! “What the hell?” Dad said, “the power is off.” “Maybe Corinne hit a pole,” I said. Dad turned to me as if I slapped him. I remember that Uncle Frank was there.  Then I don’t remember much, other than being scared out of my mind. My big sister, with my little sister, Carrie riding shotgun, had indeed hit a telephone pole, on her first trip out as a licensed driver, on Halley Road. 42 years later, I look at the pole that took the place of the pole that she hit… …every single time I drive down that road! And details are sketchy. Supertramp may have been on doing ‘Take the Long Way Home.’ T

Daylight savings time kicked in on Saturday. Miller didn’t get the memo. We have a cat who has two litter boxes and an upstairs bowl of food (in my room) and a downstairs bowl of food (in Sam’s room). Miller freaks the freak out if either of the litter boxes needs cleaning or, if God help me, he runs low on food in either bowl. I didn’t check the food before going to bed on Saturday night. Miller ran out around 4:30. By 5:00, I was out of bed filling it up. It feels better not having to drive to work in the pitch dark. I like that. However, it gets dark by 4:45 p.m. By 9:00 on Sunday night it felt like it was 2 a.m. Let’s be done with this. The farmers don’t need the daylight anymore. In March or whenever the hell we are supposed to spring ahead let’s just do a half an hour… …and then never do it again. Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care, about time? Miller doesn’t.

The Bills game against the Jags wasn’t the most highly anticipated game of the year. After all, the Jags were widely considered as the worst team in the league. But Jake & Sam were here and pasta was on. I enjoy watching the game with the boys as the banter is easy when the Bills are rolling. There was little banter. “The line is getting pushed around,” I said, on the first drive. “I got a bad feeling.” The boys laughed.  I say that every game. But the first half was ugly. Two field goals for each team. “The o-Line is bad,” Sam said. “And now Josh will try to do too much. He’s going to try to win it on his own.” The boys laughed again. “They’re still going to cover the spread,” Sam said, confidently. Josh Allen of the Bills turned the ball over 3 times. Josh Allen of the Jags was everywhere. Only one field goal in the second half and the Bills didn’t kick it. Yet, there was faith in them right up until the very end. Then Sam summed it all up: “That sucked.” And tomorrow will be a l

We had a visit from the Baltimore crew and the purpose was not only a visit with some of our cousins… …we made sausage! And of course, we have chronicled the sausage making process through the years, but I did a fair amount of looking around as the sausage was being made. Everyone has a task. I was a little late so I got to wash the casings. Not the prime job. Jim was on the machine, Larry led the weighing and bagging and his boy, Jeff, got stuck at the sink washing everything. There were others involved, of course, and the chatter was light as pound after pound after pound was stuffed, bagged and put away. There were absent others there as well. I thought of my brother Jeff working the machine, and my Dad mixing it and having the ash from his cigarette fall into the bowl. Uncle Jim washed the casings when he was there. Then, the moment we were all waiting for, as a huge frying pan was set on the front burner and filled with sausage. Jim fried it up as the hot peppers turned in the mic

Someone sent me a Tik-Tok video of some woman explaining why getting vaccinated was a bad idea.  I didn’t watch it. Instead I responded with questions and answers from the Johns Hopkins and Mayo Clinic web pages that provided detailed answers to frequently asked questions. The person didn’t respond. People believe what they want to believe when it makes no sense at all. Aaron Rodgers has Covid. He also misrepresented his cooperation with the NFL’s policies. He consulted Dr. Joe Rogan and has been taking medicine designed for horses because he doesn’t trust the vaccine and it’s his body and blah, blah, blah. And why do I care? Because it’s front and center. He’s missing the next couple of games. He puts the I in team, I guess. It is his business, I guess, but he’s better off staying quiet about it because his rambling, sometimes nonsensical reasonings left no doubt that his “research” is lacking. A friend of mine also reasoned much the same way. He actually screamed: “I did my research

I did two training sessions at The Gow School for the maintenance staff. Many of the fine people in attendance were also working there when Jeff was on campus as the head chef. I barely got started on the lesson plan when a woman, a friend of Jeff’s said: “It’s so nice to see a piece of him again.” I laughed. “He was funnier than me.” She launched into a story. “I drove a golf cart around campus in those days,” she said. “Jeff found out.” I laughed without hearing anything else. “He would hide it. He chocked the wheels. Rigged it so it would only travel in reverse. He put things on the seat, and on the steering wheel. All things that made me roar with laughter. Every day he messed with me and I started looking forward to it.” “Sounds about right,” I said. “He lifted up so many people every day.” There were tears in her eyes. I touched her shoulder. “And you have similar features and his mannerisms.” “We couldn’t have been closer,” I said. “And I laugh because I never have to wonder wha

The Raiders have had a hell of a month, right? Their coach was fired after firing off crazed emails that lambasted groups of people. He deserved it. The Raiders, as a team, didn’t seem to care. They won their next two games and their ex-coaches transgressions were quickly forgotten. The news on Wednesday morning was way worse. A wide-out on their team finished playing top-golf, had a party at his friends home, and then with a blood-alcohol level way above the legal limit decided to drive his girlfriend and the mother of his child home (allegedly). They’re saying he was going 156 mph and hit the brakes, taking it all the way down to 127 mph before smashing into the back of a car being driven by a young woman (and her dog). It was about 3:40 a.m. The woman and the dog died. The wide-out’s girl suffered a serious injury. The driver was the least affected. He appeared in court and got bail set. The Raiders immediately fired him. He’s not eligible for parole when he is eventually convicted.

There was a crowd gathered in Dallas yesterday waiting for JFK Jr. to appear. He didn’t show. Then, he was expected to return during The Rolling Stones concert. You guessed it: He didn’t turn up. There has been a whole lot of attention given to JFK Jr. by the QAnon people. Here’s the theory: JFK Jr. was never dead. He went into hiding and he is set to emerge and declare tRump President and himself vice-president. I guess it doesn’t matter that JFK Jr. was a Democrat. Perhaps his plane crashing into the ocean floor knocked some sense into him (according to QAnon) and made him a Republican. Doesn’t make sense? How can you not see it??? There were reporters in the streets of Dallas to cover the story (I guess, in case, he came back). The reporters were subjected to chants of ‘Fake News.’ So, to recap: People who believe that JFK Jr. was never killed, are sure that he is going to show up to save the country by re-appointing the complete failure as savior and that he has also shifted allegi

We stumbled upon the Colin Kaepernick Netflix series that had six episodes. The series tells the story of his young life, and I was interested in seeing it because I never could truly figure out what his end game was when he was kneeling. He never said anything! He had people’s attention and he was quiet. He speaks out in the series and like a whole bunch of race relations movies and documentaries I was uncomfortable watching it because there was a whole bunch of confusing information provided to us as I grew up. The thing about Kap is that he is such a polarizing figure. Maybe if he had spoken out when the controversy was at its highest point he wouldn’t be so hated. “The people who might learn something from this won’t watch it,” Kathy said. And that right there is the problem. At the start of the 2020 baseball season the Yankees played the Nationals to open things up. The players stepped out of the dugout and a handful of guys on each team knelt down. They all stood up for the natio

November. The years fly by, don’t they? And the frozen windshield in the morning at the end of last week reminded me that I’m going to be cold soon. I don’t care for cold. Then Kathy mentioned ‘Thanksgiving.’ Damn!  There’s a bit left to do here in 2021. Tomorrow is Election Day. Thanksgiving in a few weeks. Christmas is right around the corner. We’re in a weird funk regarding the holidays. When you start losing people in the family the holidays become a bit of a downer. I know Kathy misses her Mom and sister. For me it’s Dad and my brother and there’s just a lot less pep in our step. I was thinking about the days when the boys were young and we’d go out to my parents and they’d fill our car with presents for the boys. Seems a lifetime ago. But it’s definitely the home stretch. Maybe we will go somewhere in January. Arizona perhaps… …this past week was devoid of sun. That’s rough! But come on, November… …we’re ready for it. How many days until pitchers and catchers report?