Thoughts of a Common Man

It’s weird that life just keeps barreling forward as you try and navigate BIG things. I remember thinking exactly that when the boys were born. I stepped out of the hospital back then and saw people doing routine shit, and I recall wanting to yell: “Hey! Slow down! I became a father!” And now, as I go back and forth to the hospital, I see life moving ahead and I’m apt to yell: “Can I get a time out?” On the very day of Kathy’s surgery I received an email with an exclamation point telling me that it was really important. I answered by telling them about the situation and that I wasn’t available. The response was: “Hope it all works out! Do you have time to jump on a quick call to discuss?” I was a tad infuriated. I didn’t respond. But that’s how things go. Everyone has an agenda and their big problem needs to be addressed right FREAKING NOW! And it’s funny, but people also put their own judgement on a private situation. I didn’t golf today, which the world believes is the right decision...

I have the reputation here at Camp Clifford as the guy who wants to live the same week every week, with no change. Awake at the same time. Morning routine is the same, and you can set your watch by how my day winds down. We’ve been in obvious turmoil because of the hospital visit, and I spent two days wandering around the halls  of Buffalo General. I heard a couple of families who were absolutely crushed by the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth. My routine days are just gigantic ‘to-do’ lists and every day I play a game of ‘Beat the Clock’ to see if I can finish everything. There are no ‘to-do’ lists when someone is recovering from what turned into a major operation, and all that is going outside the windows of the perfectly polished halls, doesn’t mean all that much. So, I stayed even keel, and shit-canned thoughts of doing everything else. I filled the water glass, moved the blanket, checked the blood pressure on the crazy monitors hanging behind the bed, and Kathy spoke to ...

It’s truly incredible. The lie is tested out. “It was vandalism.” The reporters don’t push back, but everyone kind of laughs about it, and mentions that it’s insane to even try to tell such a whopper. Step two is to work on the lie. “It was a knife. No wait. It was a box cutter because I told everyone that a knife couldn’t cut it.” 200 feet isn’t a large enough slit to make all the water turn green. So I’ll say it was 300’. Then I’ll mention we arrested people, and are investigating it. So, they try a new lie. “It’s sick. Vandals. They definitely loved Clinton and Obama. Sick, sick people. They jumped in and made a 350’ slit down the floor and started ripping up pieces. Then they ripped up the lawn. That was a fan of Comey, he’s a crooked cop. And Barrak HUSSEIN Obama, who is stupid. Sick, sick people.” The media tries a couple of questions, just for fun. “There is camera surveillance of the reflecting pond. Did they not see the vandals?” “It’ll come out during the investigation.” “We ...

We downplayed the surgery all week. “Everything will be good. You’ll feel better.” On the way into surgery Kathy reminded me, “I’m not done torturing you yet.” I brought a Michael Connelly book, and we arrived at 5:30 AM. Just a procedure. The time that she was in surgery was a lot longer than either of us expected and as I sat there, I heard the doctor break some very bad news to a family seated in the waiting room next door. Tears of disbelief. Heart-wrenching sadness… …and I was getting texts that said, “Still in OR.” The doc came out and gave me the news: “It went well, as expected. Give it some time, and a nurse will come get you.” Back to Connelly. Hiding in a fictional world, where I do all my best hiding. Was finally time to see the patient. Turns out, I wasn’t ready. I had flashbacks to seeing my Dad in the hospital bed when he had kidney surgery. And all the days of seeing my brother under the covers with tubes and machines. Now Kathy was there, and she was out. “Few more hou...

Every year there is a ‘Rainbow’ pride night at a number of major league ballparks. Every year there are a couple of players on a couple of teams who sound off against going to the park that day. This season, three Giants pitchers wrote Bible verses on their hats to ward off the gays, I guess. Now, since MLB disciplined the pitchers for writing messages on their uniform, they’re complaining that their right to free speech has been compromised. Okay, let’s break it all down. 1). MLB wants all the fans they can get. Their sales pitch seems to be, ‘No matter what color you are; no matter what sex you are; no matter if you’re a man who loves a man, a man who loves a woman, or a woman who loves a woman, or a woman who loves a man…we’ll sell you a ticket!’ MLB does a ‘Mother’s Day’ event, honors black history month, raises money for prostate cancer research, and has a gay pride night. Being all-inclusive is good business. 2). MLB has rules regarding the uniform. A player is not allowed to wri...

Golf is a beautiful sport. It’s played outside with perfectly manicured courses.  Every glance is a post card.  You can take a breath, and concentrate on the birds soaring through the air.  As we played on Saturday, a deer crossed the fairway on the 13th hole. Golf is a game of friendship.  There’s the moment when you meet at the clubhouse, the promise of a great round coming up. Catching up on the week of life that was just put in the rear view. Waiting for the guys behind you to finish up their conversation before standing over the ball, clearing your head, working on your mechanics. Golf is a game you play against yourself. Setting the ball on the tee, with the logo facing you. Just put the sweet spot of the club on the center of the ball. Best feeling in the world to see the ball in the blue sky, soaring, to the middle of the short grass. And you turn back to your buddies.  Everyone is saying something. There is usually a fist bump or two as, in a long-stand...