Thoughts of a Common Man

I had to trim the hedges yesterday, which is a job I hate because I end up getting little slivers - even when I’m wearing my PPE. I also needed something to haul away the debris. I spotted the kid’s wagon. It’s been in the garage since the summer of 1998. I know that for a fact because I dumped the wagon and I saw the inscription. “To Jake…Happy First Birthday! We love you…Grandma and Grandpa Fazzolari” It was Dad’s handwriting. Dad had perfect handwriting. My heart did a little jump, and then it ached. It looked as though he scrawled the inscription yesterday and not 28 years ago. I thought back to those birthday parties when the boys were young. The boys birthdays are within a month of each other so we’d have one party and serve 3 birthday cakes. Those were events and our parents spoiled their grandchildren.  We got a lot of use from that wagon. Kathy would put the boys in it and take them around the neighborhood. Where did that time go? One moment they’re celebrating their first...

I’ve been to Cornell about fifty times through the years. It’s a beautiful campus, and of course, it’s a highly regarded academic institution. But it’s kids at college. We had to lower the boom on the crane because students were climbing up a couple of hundred feet on the weekends. Netting had to installed at the bridges where students were jumping to their deaths when the pressure of their grades was too much. And yet, nothing prepared me for the story of the rape. I hung around the frat houses when I was in college. I pledged at a house and a couple of weeks into the process I dropped out because one of the guys who was going to soon be ‘a brother’ spit tobacco juice into my face. I stepped out of line, walked out the front door and had the pledge master chasing me down the street to try and talk me into coming back. I remember that conversation. “We want you to make it,” the pledge master said. “It’s just what you have to go through. Couple of weeks and you’re in.” “Done,” I said. “...

On the tee box, polling my fellow golfers. “What’s going to happen?” I asked. “Oh, there won’t be an election,” golfer #1 said. “I don’t think so either,” golfer #2 added. I didn’t digest that all that well. If there aren’t mid-term elections there isn’t any more pretending… …it’s over. I don’t see how they can possibly stop the election.  You can’t just declare martial law (or as the MAGA crowd says: ‘Marshall Law’ - as if he were the sheriff on Gunsmoke). “We have the Democrats saying, ‘He can’t do that! Then he does it and no one stops him.” That is a fair point. I mentioned: “He knows if he loses he’s going to jail.” “He’s NEVER going to jail. He does whatever. There won’t be an election.” It was my turn to hit, with that thought ringing in my ears. After my swing I said: “It’s going to be a crazy few weeks.” Chasing the media away is a calculated plan. Trying to challenge ballots and pretend there’s fraud. That’s out of Hitler’s playbook. On Saturday it was noticed that the wa...

I went to school at Gannon University. I had a lot of friends on the golf team, and they decided to play in a memorial tournament at Whispering Woods in Erie. Three all-American golfers and me! Now, I’ve played in this foursome before, and it’s a lot of fun watching great golf up close. This year, I wanted to participate. I set up at the tee on a par 3 that was 178 yards away. A hole in one would win me free steak for a year. I can eat a lot of steak. I hit a great shot… …that was about 6’ from all that steak. The next golfer… …put it within 3’. “I couldn’t let you have that,” he said. On the very next hole we were about 40 yards off the green following our drive. I went first, and as I set up, my longtime buddy who routinely golfs around par said, ‘Hang on a second.’ Then he told me where to put the ball in my stance, and aimed at the spot on the green I needed to hit to put it close. I hit the spot. Holed it for an eagle. And man, we laughed all day. Four guys who’ve known one anothe...

So, a judge ruled that the Pedo Pig couldn’t ban the press, but when the media tried to access the White House in the morning they were denied. However, right around noon, just a half an hour before they’d have to show up in court, the White House lifted the ban. And the press stayed away in droves. They allowed the pug to meet with President Xi without any coverage. And then the orange mouth complained that the press wasn’t there! Good. Stay away! We’ve heard all his bits. We know he’s going to lie and tell us everything is going great. It ain’t. It was learned this week that his approval rating is now at 29%. Nixon got bounced when he was at 24%. It’s widely believed that there is a blue wave coming, and Pedo Pig knows that if they lose the senate and the house that he may wind up in Federal prison. What are his options? 1). They will try to cancel the elections. This doesn’t seem plausible, but a run at martial law is on the table. Make up an emergency and declare that the election ...

It’s funny how we salute one another. “How’s it going?” Is usually answered with: “It’s going?” “How are you?” Often gets: “Same shit, different day.” We all have stock answers. When someone asks me how I am I usually answer: “Lovely.” I see different people each day, which is good. I can’t imagine working in an office where you run into the same people every day. That’s dangerous because you get invested! At the same time, there was a plumber that I ran into the day after Kathy had her surgery. About a month later I saw him again, and the first thing he asked was: “How’s your bride?” Which was very thoughtful given that I’m not sure I even know his first name. There is one good day for greeting people. “How’s it going?” “It’s Friday.” That’s always the response on Friday morning, and yeah, it puts a little pep in the step. That’s followed by: “Have a great weekend.” And then on Monday we have to deal with the: “How was your weekend?” question. “I played all right,” is my response to t...