Thoughts of a Common Man

The sun was shining. Yeah, it was only 44 degrees, but I felt all right this morning. “I’m gonna’ hit a bucket,” was my first thought. I made the short drive to the range, and noticed that there weren’t any other cars in the lot. Saw the owner walking by. “Can I hit a bucket?” “Yeah. The mats aren’t set up, but you can hit from the dirt in front.” Which was fine with me. I’d rather hit off the ground than a mat any time. “But it’s a little muddy,” he said. Which turned out to be the understatement of the year. I struggled mightily with the tee as I hit a dozen balls with my seven iron. Then I moved forward a little more and hit about 25 balls with the cheat club that is my 7 wood. Finally, pulled the driver out and swung until I was tired. I could count the number of balls I hit well on one hand, but I was winded. Felt good. A little more waiting, but getting there. I cleaned each club, and put the right club in the right slot in my bag. They’re talking sunny and fifty tomorrow. I’m he...

I have a hoodie that was given to me by a contractor. It’s very comfortable, and unfortunately, I WEAR IT EVERY DAMN DAY! Other contractors, seeing the company name on the hoodie I wear have given me gear from their company. They don’t feel the same. I love my hoodie, but I’m not kidding when I say that I’ve worn it every day (with the exception of being in Florida for 5 days) SINCE SEPTEMBER! SEVEN MONTHS! And of course, I wash it. That’s the first question I get when I mention how long I’ve worn it. I’m tired of it. I want to golf. I feel like a single round will get my mind right. But the weather simply won’t cooperate. It’s cold and clear, or warm and raining. The guys I usually play with are allergic to even a single rain drop so we won’t be roughing it. If Doppler shows even the hint of a misting we don’t go. (I’m just busting on them…I have nothing else to say). With all the bullshit…and the Yankees suddenly not hitting…I need somewhere to hang my hat… …or my hoodie… …if I ever ...

It happens to every construction guy at least once a year. There are elevation changes. There is debris. Cords and hoses. Sooner or later, you’re gonna hit the deck. I can attest that as an older man, hitting the deck is not good. Was a bright sunny day today. I visited a job that had a scaffold about thirty-five feet in the air. I didn’t have to access the scaffold, I just had to simply walk around it and make sure the setup was good. I’d like to say that I tripped because I was looking up as I walked, and I didn’t see the 2’ crane mat near the scaffold. That’s not what happened. I saw the crane mat, and I had a thought that standing on the mat would allow for a better photo. I was looking at my feet. I knew I had to step up. I just didn’t pull it off, and man, I went down hard, dropping my iPad. My phone fell out of my shirt pocket. My hardhat fell off. And I had an instant panic because my knee hit hard and sent waves of pain to my brain. The thought I had was: “Bounce right back up...

I don’t want to talk about it. I’m so tired of being driven to anxiety by a raving lunatic. I know there will be another immediate distraction because we are characters in a reality show being produced by someone who is trying to distract the world clear of the fact that he raped children. But I don’t want to think about it. It was 28 degrees when I got in the car this morning, but the sun came out, and by the end of the day, I was tossing the ball for Oliver in shorts and a hoodie. Every day is an Ollieday. For those wondering, he surpassed 15,000 catches for 2026. He’s averaging about 180 a day. It was Wednesday, and that’s a pasta day. I made linguine and clams, and it was outstanding. It was probably better because I thought about it all day. Miller went to the spa. My beautiful cat was washed, got a hair trim, his nails were also cut, and we heard this gem from the groomer: “He was a little irritated with me, and tried to hide his nails in his belly rolls.” The groomer fat shamed ...

I’ve been around a while. This afternoon, I got to the point in my day where I decided that I was mentally strong enough to see what was going on outside the walls of my construction visits, and the songs on my phone. Lo and behold, the so-called President, a convicted felon, an almost certain pedophile, and a raging lunatic put out a post where he threatened to wipe a civilization off the face of the earth. We don’t quite know why. He started the war by saying that he was saving the people of Iran. Then he bombed their schools and killed hundreds of their children. Then it was because they were too unstable to have nuclear weapons. As Americans we have never been directly threatened by a terrorist country to such a level. And that’s when it hit me: America, our country, is now the most dangerous nation on the planet. We are terrorizing innocent civilians with threats of extinction. What made it even sadder was I saw the people of Iran, making a human train around all of their bridges,...

Got my first text of the week at 6:30 on Monday: “Hey, my last day of work is tomorrow. I have to retire for health reasons. I was just thinking about all the laughs and stories we told each other through the years, and just wanted to let you know.” I didn’t respond.  Of course, I went straight to his job. He saw me pull up, and smiled. Up until November, he was a healthy guy. 62 years old. On a couple of meds for cholesterol. Needed a new med for something else. In November, he started throwing up and couldn’t stop. Spent a week in the hospital and was told that his meds weren’t compatible. He had damaged his pancreas. Nearly killed him, but by the new year, he’d regained his strength, and things seemed back to normal. When I saw him yesterday, I was shocked by how much weight he’d lost in just the last two weeks. He looked like an old man, and though he was smiling, the news wasn’t good. “My pancreas is badly damaged, and they can’t fix it.” I gave him a hug. We told each other a...