Thoughts of a Common Man

There’s one way to aggravate me with one sentence by simply saying: “Baseball is boring.” I’m not sure that there’s anything I’ve done in my life more than watching baseball. I don’t watch every pitch, but when the Yankees are playing they’re on as I read, write and do reports for work. I’ve never minded that a game takes more than 3 hours with the exception of the playoffs because they don’t start the damn game until after 8:00. I don’t find anything about the game to be a bore, but I definitely understand the fact that ratings are down with the younger generation. Yet, I have three boys. They are fully tuned in to the happenings of MLB even if they don’t watch every inning as I do.  They love the sport. MLB made a bunch of changes for the upcoming year. 1). The shift has been reduced - infielders have to stay on the infield.  I’m all for it!  When a 3rd baseman is making catches in the right-field corner things are out of whack. The game was perfectly designed and players playing out

We suddenly have time for a lot of television again. That’s what rehabbing hips do for you. And I’m thinking of changing my name to ‘Would you?’ As that’s how every sentence begins. “Would you get me a drink?” “Would you grab me a blanket?” “Would you get the pets out of the path to the bathroom?” I certainly don’t want to watch the news these days, but I’ve caught some of the periphery bullshit. Woody Harrelson has long been a favorite of mine and he made the news because of his SNL monologue where he seemed to buy into the Covid conspiracy that made it seem like it was all a ploy by Big Pharma and the media worked with them to trick people into believing it was true. (The millions who died believe it). I’m not clear if it was a joke as Woody is a fairly open liberal but I didn’t read a whole lot into it because I love Woody in every movie he’s ever done and he’s said some really bright things through the years. Then there’s Dilbert. The comic strip creator - I don’t even know his nam

The two constants in my life have been Bruce and the Yankees for the past 40 years. On Saturday, they both played a role. The Buffalo show is now only 26 days away. I didn’t have tickets until Saturday morning, and just as I thought, the crazy high prices on the day of the sale, due to dynamic pricing, was back under control. I haven’t sat in the upper level seats since about 1985 and wasn’t about to for this - my 35th Bruce show. On Saturday I found 4 seats and they were reasonable. I pulled the trigger with a little sadness mixed with the excitement. Sad because of those who won’t be there. Kathy won’t be ready for prime time. John is also banged up. Carrie is out of town. And of course, Jeff will be there with us in spirit, but won’t be seated beside me… …but his son, Johnny will! John is a HUGE Springsteen fan and this will be his first show. I texted him a copy of his ticket and he screamed: “LET’S F***ING GO!!!!!!” And I can explain how much fun he will have, and he’s watched a l

We spent about a week in the hospital last night waiting for Kathy to be discharged. It was all going so swimmingly, and we had a good plan worked out. I had a training session that was supposed to be over around 3:00 and I was heading straight to the hospital. “Don’t rush over,” Kathy texted. “I need bloodwork done before I get discharged. Go home and let the dog out.” So, Ollie got a game in. He caught 48 out of 50 and was pissed about the game being over. Headed back to the hospital. “Gonna’ be awhile,” I was told. We watched a true crime show. Left to get Sam from work and returned to find that the front entrance to the hospital was closed. Had to walk about a half a mile to the emergency room entrance. Back to the room. “I’ll be back with the discharge papers in 15,” the nurse said. We packed everything up. Kathy got dressed to go. 45 minutes passed. A different nurse popped her head in: “Just hold tight for a little while longer. We are short handed and it’s busy.” Ten minutes la

What a weird ass week. Kathy’s surgery went well, and she’s already been up and walking, but she has one more day in the hospital. Which made a bell go off in my head. Just me and Sam home for dinner. What to make? I texted Sam about 2:00, on my way back from the hospital visit. “How about steak & lobster. That work?” “Ya’ think?” They have to hide the lobster tails behind the counter at Tops and then walk you straight to the register as people roundly steal them. Felt a bit like a criminal as I was escorted up front. But man… …we had a shit load of good food. And it’s quieter around the joint when one person is missing, but the vacuum bag needs to be changed (I don’t have that technology) and the internet went out (ice storm) and Sam and I spent a few minutes just looking at each other with zero clue how to fix it. “Should we call RoboKath?” Sam asked. (That’s what they’ve decided to call her). “Ah, man, maybe we should leave her alone.” She will be home tomorrow. Little rest for

So, life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. John Lennon said that, and we know how it all worked out for him. On Tuesday I was working on getting dinner ready as Kathy visited with my Mom. She called. ‘Oh boy,’ I thought. She usually texts. We don’t chat much on the phone. “I’m in the driveway,” she said, “But having trouble getting out of the car. I fell at the bank.” I headed down, Sam beside me. The plan was to help her into the wheelchair, which wasn’t difficult, but she simply couldn’t move her left leg. Two years ago she had her right hip replaced. I didn’t want to say anything, but I was thinking, ‘Time to do the left?’ “It’s just a bruise,” Kathy confidently said. “Let’s have dinner and I’ll rest for a minute.” Half an hour later the EMT was here. Then two cops walked in. “Tell me what happened?” He said to me. I told him the story, and he moved a little closer. “See, that doesn’t make sense,” he said. “She fell at the bank and made it all the way home and now

There’s a revelation about January 6th coming as Kevin McCarthy has released the camera footage from that horrible day… …to Tucker Carlson! It would be hard to believe if it wasn’t so pathetic. Fox News has been in the news because of the Dominion lawsuit and the revelations that their top ‘announcers’ were lying about if they believed that the election was rigged. The entire group of them lied to their viewers and got them all worked up with the lie. And now they have the footage so they can pick and choose what happened that day and show it in the most dishonest of lights. We know what happened! We know why it happened!! And yet, every day we hear breaking news about it as if we were all asleep when it all went down. The thing about that day was that I called it a couple of weeks beforehand. And now? One of the congresswomen - I won’t even say her name cause she’s so dopey - is saying that there should be a civil war between red and blue states. How can anyone even mention such a thi

Every time I feel a tad despondent about the negative news we are fed, over and over… …someone in my life does something nice for me and helps bring me back around. There were six mass shootings around the country - in just the last two weeks. Have you noticed that the media coverage of such events has slowed to barely a drip? There was one in Mississippi that barely registered. I think there were six people killed. Well, for me, that was the week I was in Florida, and my friends and my boss, all went out of their way to make sure I had a good time. Making the birdie putt after a 183 yard dart to within 3’ would’ve been nice, but I gagged the putt. And then, while I was away, my wife snapped a photo for me. A baseball, signed by Yankees manager, Aaron Boone: “To Cliff, We will win! Aaron Boone.” Compliments of my cousin Susan! Just a wonderful gesture! The internet has been great for one thing, for sure… …keeping in touch with family and friends. I read about the train derailment with

Tiger Woods seems to be in a little hot water because he handed a tampon to the guy he was golfing with after beating the guy’s drive. The two men laughed, but the camera had caught it. I read a column about how Tiger was solely responsible for denigrating women golfers. He has since apologized. As I read the article bashing Woods, I had two words on repeat in my head: “Come on!” I’ve been soundly whipped by a female on the tennis court and on the basketball court. I learned a long time ago that there are women athletes who are better than me at golf, tennis, softball, swimming, diving, hoops… …but man, that has never entered my mind when Pops misses a putt cause he left it short and I say: “Does Jill play too?” I’ve popped up drives and I immediately waited for JC to say: “Nice drive, Nancy.” We are not trading these barbs to denigrate every single woman athlete everywhere! We are just making fun of our buddy. It’s a joke! God, I miss jokes. And while I’m all for not being malicious a

Years ago there was a movement to make OSHA a friendlier agency. Instead of enforcing the rules through fines there was a movement afoot to make them a partner in business. The hammer used - financial penalties - was set aside, and OSHA tried to educate and partner it up. The results weren’t great… …businesses weren’t afraid and they put their employees at risk. The number of occupational deaths went sky high. Illnesses and injuries also soared. OSHA, without the threat of a hammer, was ineffective. I’ve been in the safety field for more than 30 years now.  I’ve seen a lot of things, and I must say that most company owners do things the right way, and they spend a lot of money on safety. Yet, there are others. “I made a business decision,” one owner said to me when I asked him why he had two eighteen year old kids on a roof deck without fall restraints. “I’m going to gamble that they don’t fall and that it doesn’t cost me double to do the job.” I tossed all of them off the job. I was d

Got a work call yesterday to be brought up to date on a new job. In Erie, PA. The guy gave me information on how far a drive it is and where the job was located. “There’s a big college downtown,” he said. “I forget the name.” “Gannon,” I said. “That’s where I went to school.” “Really? So do you know the street I’m talking about?” “No,” I said. “I was pretty drunk for 4 years.” He laughed. We solidified the plan and then, of course, I took a trip back through time to those years between 1982 & 1986. Back then there were so many promises of one tomorrow after another. So much hope and potential and unease and worry. So much fun. I have a lot of friends from those college years. Lifelong buddies who still know me pretty well… …even 35-40 years later. We used to leap over parking meters as we walked from the dorm to the campus. There are street corners there where we walked and talked with young girls who are forever 18 in our memories. I hope they all lived good lives. “Dreary Erie, t

The mass shooter (there are hundreds of them) here in Buffalo was sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole. Obviously, a just sentence. Yet, it was so difficult to listen to the grieving families as they addressed that coward. Losing a loved one to pure hate has to be an impossible pill to swallow. All of living with this is particularly insane. It should not be a thing… Anywhere. There was a mass shooting in Michigan earlier in the week. There will be another one somewhere else before the month ends. Around and around we go. A congressman handed out pins that were shaped like rifles. All sorts of politicians pose with guns (everyone in the family holding one) in an effort to gain votes. This can’t be the price we pay for freedom. Take a look of anguish on the faces of those left behind. Anywhere here in the United States. Where you can get killed just for living in your American skin.

I’ve always liked that expression because it means you’re wiped out by living life. The difficulty of pushing sixty is that it’s pretty easy to get tired and stay tired. Doesn’t take just a little rest to get going again. We all wax poetic about the days when we could stay out partying after a softball game, get up for work, work an entire day, and play another game and have more beer and wings after. Now, it’s quite possible to sleep 8 hours and wake up feeling more tired than when you went to bed! And I particularly love when I wake up with pain in a limb after going to bed completely intact. I woke up wiped out on Tuesday morning, with a busy work day staring me in the face. Oliver and Miller also had grand plans for me. The very last thing I wanted to do was throw 50 balls off the garage for Ollie, but I had zero choice in the matter. The sun was shining. He dropped the ball at my feet. He looked up at me. “Let’s play ball,” I said. Pure happiness. But by 6:00 it felt like it was t

  Spent a lot of time laughing at dumb things that we’ve done over the last 30 years. Did a few more dumb things on this trip. The golf was awesome - each round seemed to pass quickly and I wasn’t in mid-season form by any means - my driver was mostly weird. Chippy was the only guy who showed up almost every time! But there was heat! And blisters. And calf cramps. But we enjoyed every second of the trip - attending a super bowl party to watch a holding call destroy a good game. It was the only night that any of us were awake after 10:30 p.m. Old bastards. Today we teed off early - no time to warm up. No hot tub. And 4th day in a row. Tired! As we took the Uber back to the airport, I turned to my buddy and said: “Feels like we’re going from color back to black and white.” “2 months before we swing a club again,” he said. “Yeah. That might be okay.” Sore. Tired. Smiling.

 Played pretty well on day one. Some good shots, some bad shots, a whole lot of fun! Day two started with a stiff back and I backed out of pickle ball - which I’ll never hear the end of - and instead played - unstiffen my back in the hot tub. Struggled through the first two holes and actually said: “It’s too hot! I’m uncomfortable.” Then I laughed. Dunked my towel in the ice and cooled off using a trick that me and JC use during the summer rounds. Calmed down and played pretty well. Then I made sauce for the boys. Sausage and ravioli. We were all worn out and carbed up. Back to the tub. Two more days in paradise. I hope it’s too hot again today.

I packed everything expertly. My spikes. My favorite tees. A few baseball caps so that I could wear a different once for each round. I charged my headphones and packed the book I’m reading and another one because I usually read a full book during a plane ride. “You have everything?” Kathy asked. I just looked at her. The fact that she would ask me when we spend nearly every day in an Easter egg hunt looking for her things was comical. “You left a phone in New York once,” she said. “Twenty years ago,” I said. “That’s the last thing I left behind.” I was at the airport an hour early. I lugged my golf clubs to the front desk, reached into my coat pocket for my wallet… …and immediately panicked as I remembered the last thing I’d done before leaving the house. I threw the ball for Ollie. I pictured my wallet laying in the spot where I stood as I threw him passes. I called Kathy who was leaving the airport. “I don’t have my wallet!” “Is it in the car?” “No. It’s on the floor near where I sit

I didn’t watch. I never watch the Presidential State of the Union because I can’t stand the constant clapping. Even during the great years. Now it’s unwatchable for a whole ‘nother reason. The opposing party has grown accustomed to screaming out their inane comments while the man is trying to make a speech. It’s downright embarrassing. The one whack job (no names) was screaming ‘Liar’ as if she were at a high school assembly. And that’s practically the state of the union, I guess. People have felt emboldened to yell out whatever miserable thing they want no matter where they are those days. Fast-food joint fist-fights. People shooting each other all over every street in every corner of the country. There is no decorum. And I want to be careful about making sweeping generalizations because there are a lot of wonderful people in the world. People who will help out their neighbors. Give to the poor. Pay for the person behind them in line. Yet, being an older dude now, it’s hard to pretend

My pets are now, officially, running the house. Ollie has toys all over the place. The funniest part of it all is that he knows the names of all of them. “Get pinky,” sends him off on a search to get a plastic pink thing that is fun for tug of war. We laughed out loud the other night when I told him to ‘Get pinky, it’s upstairs.” Up the stairs he went. Pinky was in my lap seconds later. Yet, his football talents may exceed his baseball talents. Turns out that catching the baseball off the garage is no big deal. He now is actually running routes, looking over his shoulder to see where the football is headed, and leaps to make the grab. The first hundred times he did it, I laughed. “He’s brilliant,” I mentioned as we headed in after he caught 35 out of 50. “I think I can teach this dog to talk.” Yet, Miller isn’t far behind. He no longer is shy about showing affection. He jumps up to say ‘good-night’ to me each night, and as I dress for work, he’s right there beside me… …saying ‘good-mor

Okay, Buffalo has had: 1). Mass shooting - horrific. 2). Football player with cardiac event - scary  3). November storm - 81 inches in the driveway 4). Early December storm - another 40 inches 5). Christmas cancelled by…a storm. Blizzard 🥶  6). A freaking earthquake! I woke around 5:45 on Monday morning and Miller jumped up to say ‘Hello’ and then I thought about getting moving. I was doing the Wordle when: 💥 💥 💥  Actually, it was just a single boom. “What the?” I added one word to that sentence. Jumped out of bed and ran to the front of the house where I expected to see a vehicle jammed in the front door. Nothing! Saw Sam… …who hasn’t seen 6 a.m. unless he has stayed up. “Did you hear that?” “I think it was an earthquake,” I said. Five minutes later, it was confirmed on the news scrolls. Buffalo! What’s next? I’m guessing locusts, but it could rain fish or blood or something… …bring it. We’ll handle it!

I’m going to play golf before the end of the week. In fact, a week from now I’m going to be sore from playing. There are 4 tee times scheduled in the next 7 days. The look-ahead weather is showing the lowest temp being about 72. It was 7 here on Saturday. I’m ready, but true to form, I’m not easing into vacation. I have WAY too much scheduled for the first 3 days of the week and WAY too much on my mind. But, there’s a possibility that I’ll be able to relax before the plane lands. I’m a tad concerned about the body holding up through all those swings (and 3 or 4 putts) but getting some sun truly has me excited. The other night we were watching an episode of Blue Bloods and they were talking about the grind of working through their every day jobs. It was all around the dinner table and Frank waxed poetic about how wonderful the grind truly is. I get what he’s saying, of course, I do. I have always enjoyed working… …but man, 3 days before I’m getting the hell out of Dodge? Yeah. The grind

So we used an F-22 to shoot a missile to down the Chinese Spy balloon that was floating over the land. My first thought was that it was probably a balloon sent up to advertise the Super Bowl as they certainly need people to watch that, right? But no, it came from China, like everything else, right? And of course, it was more about everyone in the world shouting what had to be done. Donald Jr. sent out a tweet asking people to go out and shoot it down themselves if Biden was too afraid to do so. Not a terrific idea as the balloon was about 7 miles up. I’m sure that there were plenty of people grabbing their guns to head out and give it a good old non-college try. Shooting bullets straight up in the air isn’t all that bright of an idea. But, then, on Saturday afternoon came word that the balloon was popped over the water near Myrtle Beach. Waiting for the people who want to be contrary to shout out that we shouldn’t have shot it down. Because that’s how everything goes now. Everyone know

I use what the kids call a notebook to do my work every day. I have a very specific procedure - using the notebook to take photos which I drag into documents that I leave on a flash drive. When I return home, I put the flash drive into my PC and I write the reports very quickly. Well, a couple of weeks ago the notebook wouldn’t turn on. Easy enough. Order a replacement. The IT people couldn’t have been more accommodating but they had to add security to it in Chicago and then they sent it to Syracuse where more IT people worked on it. Then they shipped it to me. I opened it up and immediately lost it! There was no port for a USB drive. Called IT and they let me know that technology has passed me by a bit - there are more sophisticated USB drives now.  I ordered the new version. Tried the camera. It wasn’t enabled! Called the IT guy - took him a good hour, working on my computer over the phone. Got it running! All set! Headed to a site - took a number of photos, inserted the USB and got

Quite the title, huh? There’s a google game that people play. It’s easy. Plug in your birthday and the words, “Florida Man…” You’ll get a wonderful story of ultimate stupidity. Speaking of which… …they’re banning books? In school? Isn’t that where books are supposed to be read? Word is that they’re doing a review and trying to figure out if the books that kids are reading aren’t depicting stories that show racism, or references to slavery, or something so inane. But that’s not the worst of it. The title of this blog was entered into google and a whole bunch of stories popped up. Seems that there is a new emphasis that calls for young women to show records of menstruation so that they can appear in athletic competitions. Are you freaking kidding me? Who would provide that information to a school administrator? It seems awfully specific - wouldn’t it be less intrusive to request a physical that a young girl could keep private with her medical provider? The whole thing is kind of screwy,

Man! “It’s a tad nipply.” As Chevy Chase one said in Christmas Vacation while greeting a rather chesty woman convenience store clerk. And I know it’s February when I sit on the edge of the bed with Miller the cat 🐈‍⬛ as we discuss the day ahead. “It’s cold,” I mention, and Miller purrs. And I pull on the long underwear and a couple of pairs of socks and I dread all of it. But it makes me think of my Grandpa Clifford who worked on the railroad. We were all at the house one time as he returned from work and he was removing layer after layer of clothing. I asked him why he wore so many clothes. “It’s Buffalo,” he said. “Freezing my ass off.” Now I know. And on Wednesday morning, I met a group of men who are all of Hispanic heritage. When I speak to them I need a translator. I say it and then wait as the translator shares my message. At the end of the meeting I said, in very clear English: “I’m freezing my f***ing ass off!” All 75 guys laughed. “You understood that, huh?” Then I watched a