Thoughts of a Common Man

One of the owners of a client I represent sent me an email on Wednesday wondering if I could be at their office for a 6 a.m. meeting. “Sorry to go so early, but we want to get to the sites early. I know you’re getting old.” I thought about the alarm clock going off before 5:00.  I also considered that I have spent a lot of my life awake before six in the morning in an effort to start my work days. “I’ll be there,” I answered. “I’m still young.” And later in the day, I passed a group of kids who were listening to a really old Stones song, ‘Satisfaction.’ “This song is my age,” I said to them as I passed by. “It’s 80 years old?” One kid asked, and they laughed. I gave him a two-word response. The second word was ‘off’ and they laughed some more. Getting old. Then, we happened to catch the Sabres draft class. They posted the photos of the new hockey players in town. “Oh my God! Is that kid 12?” Kathy asked. One of the kids they drafted looked like the neighbor kid. “He was born in 2005,”

Weather reports mentioned 75 and sunny for Wednesday. The temperature seemed to get there, but there was zero sunshine as the crazy wild fires in Canada have turned the entire country into a bit of a smoke pit. A deep breath in the morning made me cough and sputter a little, and I considered people who really get messed up in such a situation. Of course, a lot of people out there reminded me that as a safety guy I am duty-bound to call their boss and send them home for the day. With pay. “You’ll just get a 12-pack and play ‘Call of Duty’ all day,” I told one kid. “And that’s bad, why?” The kid asked. “Think of the satisfaction you’re getting out of putting in a good day of work,” I said. That brought laughter. But they truly wanted to know if the Smokey situation was compromising their health. “How the hell do I know?” I asked. “You’re a safety guy!” Then I had a great idea. “You should all call OSHA and ask them,” I said. “Will they send us home?” “I have no idea,” I said, “But maybe

Every once in awhile a certain Mellencamp line pops into my head. It’s from the song ‘Between A Laugh & A Tear.’ (Just a tremendous song). And it’s not my favorite line from the song: “I know there’s a balance, I see it when I swing past.” It’s the other line: “Sometimes life is too ridiculous to live.” A truly cynical line… …but it pops into my head on days like yesterday. I woke up considering what the day might look like. I had a 70-minute trip to Salamanca and then a few sites in downtown Buffalo. Kathy was scheduled for a medical procedure so I was also tasked with checking in on my Mom… …back to North Collins. A lot of miles and fighting time because I needed to be home early enough to help around the house. “No stress about it,” I lectured myself. And off I went! The Salamanca and back trip went all right, but then a hard rain landed as I visited the Buffalo sites.  “All done with procedure,” Kathy texted, “Back home.” I checked the time… …tight! Needed everything to break r

The New York Times ran an opinion piece about what the Republican Party has as a future. Bleak is probably their best possible outcome. The front runner for the 2024 nomination is indicted for crimes every few weeks. All sorts of trials and tribulations. Notice that I’m not commenting on guilt or innocence here. It’s a simple statement of facts.  Alleged crimes regarding tax fraud, rape, incitement of violence, insurrection, mishandling of classified documents. So, there are people running against him in the primaries. The candidates have a chance to separate themselves from all the potential criminalities. One of the challengers was vice-president during the insurrection and was nearly hung. With the exception of Chris Christie, all the candidates running against the former guy are unbelievably still defending him! So, if they fall in line behind the guy who is the current front runner, they have zero chance of beating him. So, the future of the party is the man being indicted every t

David Letterman used to do a bit in his monologue where he spoke of being tired, but he sold it as a: “It’s a good kind of tired.” He’d said it so often that it ended up being funny the more you watched. I exceeded my ‘move’ expectations for a 3rd straight day and while my dogs were barking a little, it wasn’t lost on me that summer is amazing here in Western New York. There were two great rounds of golf - I started Sunday with pars on four out of the first five holes. Ollie caught 240 baseball passes and 125 football passes. He walked the ball back to me towards the end of the final session. Half hour later, he wanted to play again. A good kind of tired… …and for one of the first times in a while… …I just went with it. Relaxed! Ignored political talk, didn’t read about any shootings, or blue-red fights. And the weather seems iffy as the week begins. A rain day might allow for a bit of a pause, but construction is in full swing… …so there are ladders to climb. There are more games to b

We stumbled upon a show called ‘Smartless’ featuring Jason Bateman and Will Arnett and Sean Hayes. Bateman is one of our favorites so when we saw it…we instantly started watching, and immediately loved the banter between the characters as they hit the road to promote their podcast. It’s great fun!  I smiled through every episode, and thought of the wonderful back and forth that I’ve had with great buddies through the years. Busting balls is the best when no one gets offended. It’s one of my favorite things ever and coincidentally I had such a day with my Syracuse pals as we hit the golf course. We laughed a lot, but then on the 18th hole, I went to my bag to grab Chippy for a close shot. “Chippy is missing!” I yelled. Everyone who has ever golfed with me knows that Chippy has been in my bag since I was about 14 years old (my cousin Paul gifted me Chippy and I’ve sunk some shots from off the green because of Chippy’s dominance). “We have to go back!” I yelled. We hurriedly finished the

Caught up on reading about the horrific deaths of five people who were planning on viewing the wreckage of the Titanic in a submersible vessel. First off, why did I never know that the Titanic sunk about 900 miles off the coast of Cape Cod? I feel a little dumb believing that it happened somewhere far, far away - and nowhere near the Cape. Secondly, how cruel are people now? I mean five lives were lost. Those people had friends and family and kids and parents and dogs. They were loved and their lives were lost in a horrific implosion. The complete lack of any sort of compassion just blows me away these days. “Rich people getting blown to smithereens is kinda’ hilarious,” one moron wrote. “I want to know why my tax dollars have to go to help rescue a group of rich idiots,” another man wrote. (His Twitter bio spoke of his deep love of Christ and his life of faith and love). I think, through all of the angst of the past 7 years or so, the complete lack of compassion is what truly hurts my

Treat Williams was a busy actor - I knew him from his character Lenny Ross on Blue Bloods. He died last week - victim of a motorcycle crash in Vermont. He was struck by a car making a left-hand turn. Since that, I’ve heard about at least a half dozen fatalities involving motorcycles, including a 22-year-old who died a couple of miles from here. Drives me crazy as I often get nervous, as a driver, when I see someone on a bike darting in and out of busy lanes of traffic. I’ve been driving a long time - I know what drivers on cars are going to do before they even do it - the problem with motorcyclists is that they often do unpredictable things…at what seems higher rates of speed. And they fly through the air when they’re struck and their injuries are often fatal. Saddens me greatly because I think of a buddy who drove and loved to drive his motorcycle. He drove it to work religiously and one day, I watched him speed into the lot. “Don’t you worry about having an accident?” I asked. “I dri

Still so hard to believe but I was thinking about my brother Jeff’s final birthday back in 2008. The room was packed for a wake for our Uncle and just as the priest was beginning a prayer, Jeff’s cell phone sounded: His ring chime was John Sterling doing: “Theeeeee Yankeeeeees Win!” A ripple of laughter and a number of sighs made it’s way through the gathering, and I instantly knew whose phone it was, of course. So did everyone else, just a moment later, when Jeff ended the Sterling call by saying, in full voice: “Yellow!” The laughter grew as he headed out of the room. Those are the stray thoughts that cross my mind, often.  Just moments. Jeff is so incredibly missed by all of us. He was certainly the glue and he made sure we all stayed talking. All the morning calls I’ve missed since. Yet, I don’t have moments of horrific sadness about it anymore, and I don’t acknowledge the anniversary of his passing… …but I certainly celebrate his birthday. Today. And I think about the visits that

I played ball with Ollie. Monday was turning into a lazy day of catch and movies. And then… …at around 3:00, I checked my travel arrangements to see when I could check in for my ‘Tuesday’ flight. My flight was scheduled for Monday! Ugh! I got the day wrong! I scrambled to throw some things in a suitcase, threw another sixty off the garage for Ollie and 2 hours later, I was asleep on the plane. The hotel was just five minutes from Logan airport and next door to the place was a high-end Chinese place. As I settled in, I dwelled on what was certainly a crazy day. All that I’d set out for the week had to be changed as my Tuesday Buffalo visits will now be Wednesday visits and the end of the week travel doesn’t seem quite as daunting with an extra day in between. As for travel? We are back to mob scene levels. The planes are full. The shuttle buses are standing room only, and hotel rates are still through the roof. On the way from the airport to the car rental place I sat beside a family th

Spent some time with Mom on Saturday, and for one reason or another, I grabbed my phone and started playing some old songs for her. I started with the Carpenters because I have vivid memories of her playing their songs and singing along. Music bridges the gap in time. It didn’t take Mom more than three notes to guess who was singing. I went to Frank and it was beautiful to watch her face light up, but then her eyes filled with tears. “Dad sang this one to me. He listened to him all the time.” I laughed. There was no doubt about that. Dad listened to Frank the way I listen to Bruce. I played ‘Strangers in the Night’ and she got the name of the song before Frank’s voice filled the air. The songs that I have on my phone were my Dad’s favorites. That was a little foreign to Mom. “How are you even doing that?” She asked. “How do you play those songs with your phone?” I couldn’t really explain it because I can’t figure it out either. It’s amazing that all the music you can think of is right

It was a huge day back in 1978. Ron Guidry was on the mound for the Yankees, and back then, me and my Dad were best of friends on the days when the Gator took the mound. You see, Guidry was in the process of having the greatest pitching season we’d ever seen. Coming off the Yankees 1977 World Series win we were disappointed in how the ‘78 season was going, but when Guidry pitched, we knew they would most likely win. There was a huge problem on that warm summer night. The game wasn’t on television (YES was about 20 years off) and the game wouldn’t come in on the clock radio. It kept cutting in and out. Dad had an idea. For 3 hours, we sat in the car in the driveway and listened to the game. The Yankees beat the California Angels that night. Ron Guidry set the record for most strikeouts by a Yankees pitcher with 18. Phil Rizzuto was on the call. 45 years later, I recall every minute of those 3 hours. Dad made a couple of runs into the house (when the Yankees were batting), and we ate pre

The standard line among people over 55 is that:  “I went to bed feeling fine and I woke up unable to walk.”  Saturday morning inventory went all right. 1). A little creak in the neck. 2). Feet feel all right. 3). Back is passable. And I didn’t even get all the way through the inventory before the small, red football hit the floor by my feet. “Let’s fu***ng go!” Ollie might have said had he been able to verbalize. “Dude. It’s 7:15. I need a coffee.” Saturday is typically a day to rest my body. I kept count of the ladders I climbed yesterday. Eleven. The perfect problem for a nearly 59-year-old man with a red football at his feet. He allowed me half the cup of coffee before the ball was moved from the floor to my lap. Ollie doesn’t have to do any such inventory. I threw a spiral with the first pass and he leaped high. Caught the ball over his shoulder like Willie Mays at the Polo Grounds. I counted them off. When we got to 50 he brought the ball back slowly and picked it up and dropped i

I received an email yesterday that shocked me. “The office is closed on Monday. Do NOT work on Monday.” My initial reaction was: “I’m not taking the day off.” Juneteenth is Monday. It is a Federal holiday in all 50 states. OSHA won’t be working so the chances that I get a panic phone call from one of my clients is much less. And for those people who don’t know what Juneteenth is about it’s to celebrate the emancipation of slaves back in 1865. A day worth commemorating. “Maybe I can take a long weekend,” I thought. I texted the department head. “Am I really not working on Monday?” He sent me an inter-office memo. “You’re absolutely off! Go golfing.” I put two and two together and ran into a couple of other veteran safety guys. “What’re you doing Monday?” I asked one of them. “Golfing with you,” he said. “And even if you can’t go that’s what I’m going to say I’m doing because I’m not staying home.” I laughed. “I think we’re too used to going to work,” I said. “I might be the only guy who

It drives me crazy when it’s happening, but it seems that every three months or so I go through a stretch where I wake up halfway through the night. It’s funny, but every time someone wakes up in a movie the line is: “It’s three o’clock in the morning!” That was pretty much exactly when I was wide awake, every night, for nine nights straight. No reason! And I settled into a bit of a routine. I was up for about an hour, and then I’d drift back to sleep  only to get up for work around six. Wearing me out! Broken sleep is rough, and I tried a few things - massage gun, stayed up a little later, put the phone down before sleep… …nothing was working. And then, on Tuesday night, I went to sleep around 10:30 and slept straight on through to 5:30. Felt great! Kathy texted me around 8:30. “Did you sleep through the night?” (As if I was a toddler). “Yes!” And just like that… …it’s over. Spoke to a couple of guys on the sites. “Happens to me too.” “I woke up at 1:30,” one guy said. “We’re old now.

NBA Star Nikola Jokic won the MVP as his team won the Championship. When he was asked about the parade he was disappointed that he had to stay away from home. He stayed away from the podium and even left his MVP trophy behind. When he was asked about how excited he was about winning it all, he basically said, “It’s great, but it’s not the most important thing in the world.” So refreshing! Most people want to be a spectacle. They want to tell the world how great they are. The Joker just shrugged. I thought about that as I watched the grand spectacle of the disgraced former president being arrested and charged. The media coverage of the event was insane, and it’s exactly what fuels the evil. Every time a guest was asked about the lies he’s tried to spread, they brought about all the other politicians who mishandled classified materials, but then owned up to their mistakes. I’m not mentioning any of those other people because it is zip to do with the case at hand. The classified informati

My boy, Jake is 26 years old today. Man, his birth is a moment that is seared into my brain. I just remember thinking: “There’s living proof” of God’s existence, and I really don’t know how anyone watches that and doesn’t believe. A miracle. Course, just a few years later we were ‘Counting On A Miracle’ - which we also got! But Jake doesn’t like to even think about it. Any time someone complains about being sick, Jake will say, “Uh, I had a tumor and I didn’t complain that much.” And I hear from Jake every day, of course. He usually texts me in the late morning and we keep a running dialogue going through the afternoon. He’s a smart kid, a funny guy, and the most under control of all three of my boys. Which is kind of wild because as a toddler he once trashed his room as though he were a member of ‘The Who’. Jake wants a Bills or a Sabres title. He would rather that life be orderly. And he makes me laugh. Matt and Sam always tell me that ‘Jake is your favorite’ and of course, there’s n

My favorite kind of movies are the ones that tell true to life stories. The romantic-comedy and shoot-‘em-up movies are the same story in a new package and I’ll sit through them, but I am most interested in the ones where the characters struggle and survive day-to-day. We stumbled on one called “A Thousand and One” and while it was sort of good, it left me feeling sad. The characters suffered, just trying to live. They went to work each day, but didn’t make a lot of money. The landlord treated them like dirt. Their relationships were based on struggle as well. “So many people living like this,” I said. “Just suffering.” And I thought about some of the people we know who are battling in such a way… …hand to mouth living. Donating their plasma to make the rent. Eating Ramen. And it’s not just the forgotten few. There are millions upon millions of people living in such dread. A woman on Twitter did an all-caps post about how she was ten cents overdrawn on her checking account because her

Back in junior high school our afternoons were dominated by a hobby that we were introduced to by our gym teacher: Collecting autographs of sports stars. The process was easy: We would cut out some photos of our favorite stars and send a self-addressed stamped envelope to the player in the care of the team he was playing for. A few weeks later: Bam! Autographs! I have Wilt, Mays, Aaron, DiMaggio, Staubach, Gretzky, Sayers and on and on and on. I’m not sure what might ever become of my massive collection - my boys will inherit - but it is impressive. And all of this came to be because getting an autograph is now a big business. Pete Rose goes down to Cooperstown each year and signs a photo for $100 or so. A lot of players flat out refuse to sign because collectors make big money selling them. Most fans would rather get a picture with a celebrity than get an autograph. My favorite autographs are: 1). Wilt Chamberlain - he never signed. I sent him a pack of photos every week, care of the

  This is the part of the show where all those who wanted to hang Clinton for mishandling classified information start explaining why boxes of top secret documents don’t matter. The indictments came down and the former guy faces up to 310 years in prison if convicted of a number of the 37 charges. He will get his day in court, of course, but prior to that a whole bunch of things will happen: 1). There will be gaslighting like you can’t believe. I’m thinking we hear about complaints about Hillary, Biden, Hunter Biden, Obama, Jimmy Carter and maybe everyone else who ever had anything to do with ever handling a document. 2). He may run. (And I don’t mean in 2024) I would. He has a good buddy in North Korea. They send each other love letters. Putin would certainly take him in. Facing 310 years in jail can certainly make you think about avoiding the entire trial. 3). He will fundraise. It’s already started. Lyndsy Graham, who spikes the weirdo chart, had tears in his eyes as he tried to get

Pat Robertson was 93 years old. He lived a long full life of hate and rage in the guise of being a Christian. I couldn’t even look at him for the last 20 years of his life. He became a rich, rich man by selling fear to a dying, scared populace of people who were praying to a God who is nothing like the God that Robertson was praying too. I wasn’t a fan. Speaking of carnival barkers, at around 7:45 tonight the news hit the airwaves that Putin Jr. is to be indicted in the stealing of classified document case (allegedly). “I declassified them with my mind,” doesn’t seem to have been believed, I guess. “They were mine to take,” also doesn’t carry a lot of weight when there are rules written on the envelopes that say, “Do not take these out of this room!” They underline those words. And yet, we may not have ever heard anything about it, but when the DOJ asked for the documents back… …everyone lied… …or flooded the room. And lied some more. Allegedly. What a effing day! I want to see Hilary

By the end of the day, I smelled like a campfire. I must admit that when it looked hazy on Tuesday morning someone mentioned that it was because of wild fires near Quebec and I was skeptical. ‘That’s a long ways away,’ I reasoned. Of course I didn’t know that there were 8 million acres burning. That’s about as much land as the area between Detroit and Seattle. So, we got smoke. So much so that Ollie’s games were canceled after one round. And as happens during all of these once in a lifetime events that we seem to have every three months now, the conversation centered around climate control. Dry brush lighting because of abundant lightning strikes appears to be the cause. The ‘No such thing as climate change’ people were out in full force, battling the ‘planet is going to explode any day now’ people on social media where constant arguing solves exactly zero problems, and never will. As a safety guy I fielded a bunch of questions about it. “Can we go home?” One guy asked me. “How the hel

A man is driving by when he sees sheep grazing on a hillside. He also notices the shepherd standing at the side of the road. He rolls down the window and nervously asks the shepherd a sensitive question. “I hear that relations with a sheep is like that of a woman.” The shepherd knowingly nods. The driver works up his nerve. “Do you mind?” “By all means!” The shepherd says. Some time later the man returns to his car. He passes by the shepherd who asks: “Well?” “It wasn’t great,” the man said. “What did you expect?” The shepherd asked. “You picked the ugliest one.” Now, why would I open the post with a joke that I recall my Uncle Herb telling me back about 40 years ago? Some might say it’s tasteless!  I always thought it was funny. But, on Monday I heard about a man that I’d met on a distant construction site being arrested for internet searches to have relations with animals! I’m not kidding! I only met the guy a couple of times, but he is still kicking around (not in this state). “Oh m

Two of my favorite songs ever written are ‘Memory Motel’ by the Stones and ‘Moonlight Motel’ by Springsteen. Both are songs that rely on the narrator’s memories of days gone by. Of course they involve romance and youth. Two things that fade with time, it seems. I thought of each song as I passed by the building where my senior prom was held. The building is boarded up. The grass is high around the property. The majestic steps that we walked up on our way to being pretend adults out on the town are now cracked. Everything breaks down. As I drove away, I considered that night from 41 years ago. Hall & Oates - ‘Rich Girl’ - was a song I recall being played. After a bit of a strange junior prom we were all matched up happily and I recall Jeffy and his date being voted King and Queen. If I close my eyes I can see that precise moment. We all were pretty happy about it. We were all dressed up. And smiling. The Inn was spectacular. Now there is a ‘For Sale’ sign in front of the busted up p

I’m truly lost here. I listened to a GOP hopeful who is going to likely be destroyed by the orange menace and he made like a 3-minute speech about’Woke’. Look up the clip! He must’ve said ‘Woke’ 30 times. He’s fighting ‘Woke’. ‘Woke’ will die! Now I know that the party runs on emotional slogans and inane suggestions that mean nothing, but this might be the weirdest campaign ever. What the hell is ‘Woke’? Is it caring about the rights of blacks, women and gays? Is it about including all works of literature in libraries so people can read what they want and make up their own minds about the life they want to live? Is it a Nazi term? I just don’t know what any of it means. A follow up question was asked and the boob said: “It’s cultural Marxism and it won’t be tolerated.” Welp!!! That clears it up! If that’s the campaign then the huge, orange felon is gonna’ wipe the floor with him.

We saved the final episode for Friday night, and it was more than an hour long. I smiled a lot of the way through it, and that’s what I thought about.the entire series. It always made me smile, and Ted was an easy character to like. (The acting was great). Ted’s speeches during the critical moments of the episodes were always spot on, and he was such a breath of fresh air because he was polite and kind to all that he met. That sounds like an easy enough thing to do, but Ted Lasso each week was wonderful because it was funny, and it simply laid out life lessons without beating anyone over the head with it. The characters talked funny. The sport was freaking soccer. I never knew what the episode would cover, but I definitely smiled, and every once in awhile, Roy Kent made me laugh out loud. When they started playing the Cat Stevens tune, I felt a twinge of sadness. No more guaranteed smiles on Ted Lasso night. “Why’d they end the series so soon?” Kathy asked. “They could’ve went a few mo

…See you next fall. President Biden took a spill yesterday after handing out awards or diplomas or some such thing. He took a couple of steps and went ass over tea kettle when he tripped on a sandbag. Opponents of the President began screaming about elderly abuse and how he was unfit. (Have they seen the front runner for the other party?) This isn’t political though… …it’s about hitting the deck. Which is no longer advisable once you reach a certain age. Was about ten years ago as Sam and I headed into a Sporting Goods store. I was looking at my phone…never saw the curb…I went down hard and Sam missed it as he was ahead of me, but when he turned to see me laying there, a total stranger offering to help me up, he laughed uproariously. He still talks about it. About five years before that, Matt and I were talking about foot speed as we exited the church. “First one to touch the dumpster wins.” Unfortunately, I was well in the lead when another curb happened about 3’ from the dumpster. I

There’s a fair amount of angst about special event night at the old ballpark. In Los Angeles and in Toronto there are events planned for gay pride and transgender people. It’s not sitting well with some of the players who have taken to social media to voice their protests. Of course, these players are screaming about it and hiding behind their rabid religious beliefs… …which preach intolerance, I guess. The debate is pretty ugly as these things seem to get. One of the Catholic players took a huge stand and wrote a lengthy piece about how he was personally offended by the lifestyle choices of others. He explained that Catholicism prevented him from just looking the other way on the issue. Which is pretty ironic, don’t you think, given the track record of a whole bunch of Catholic Church leaders. I’m a Catholic, straight, getting-older, white man. I fall directly into the group of people who are supposed to be shocked and outraged by how people are living their lives when it’s so much di