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New York Knickerbockers

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My boys are amazed at my knowledge when it comes to the NBA. I mentioned that the Knicks won championships that I remembered in 1969 and 1973. I wasn’t rooting for them because they beat the Lakers in both instances and Wilt Chamberlain and Jerry West were my two favorite players. It’s pretty obscene that I can recall sitting in front of the television and crying in the ‘69 Finals as the Knicks won game 7 - 113-99. I was just five years old when that game was played. It was also the Willis Reed game. Reed was hurt earlier in the season and could barely walk, but he opened Game 7, and scored 8 points before leaving. I’m rooting for the Knicks these days, mostly because they have a lot of Villanova players on their team, and Sam made us watch every single ‘Nova game. We knew how great Brunson could be. I don’t watch much of the games, but I’ll catch highlights so that I can chat about it with the boys. They’re also rooting for the Knicks, who haven’t won a title since ‘73. After Wilt ret...
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Just Resting My Eyes

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Grandpa Clifford used to doze off now and again after dinner. “I’m resting my eyes,” was his go-to-answer. Quick question: Did you ever see ‘Sleepy Joe’ fall asleep while there are 12 cabinet members around? Pedo pig falls asleep. As his suck ups tell him how amazingly energetic he is. The White House claims he was ‘resting his eyes’. And I don’t want to make a comparison with my Grandpa Clifford because he was a fine upstanding man who worked hard every day of his life. And I don’t want to make it about Pedo Pig either. He bores me. This is about me catching a couple of winks now and again about halfway through a show and then denying it. “You were sleeping,” Kathy will mention. And I don’t know why we get defensive there. “No, I wasn’t!” “You were snoring!” Ah well. We all age. Even pedophile pigs need their rest.
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Painting Sucks

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I’m not really allowed to do a lot of painting around here. I did paint the interior of our house a few years back, and it was a horrendous experience. I vowed that I’d never do a big paint job again. But we have concrete outside that was looking worn, and I remembered doing that job in a half a Saturday. I may have misremembered. And how much of a mess could I make of it. It’s on the ground. I could kick the paint can over and cover a lot of it. My idea was to do a couple of steps a day each night after work. Which is difficult for me because I like to finish a task once I start it. Yesterday was day three of a the week-long experience, and I’m tired of it. Kneeling and bending over aren’t quite as much fun these days. My back hurts. My knees hurt. I need more paint. “It looks good,” I said…. …because no one else said it. A couple more days. Painting sucks.
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Found Money

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I had a stop in the city on Elmwood Avenue, which is a busy stretch of road with a lot of traffic, plenty of pedestrians, and people riding bikes. I got out of my car, and went around it to feed the meter, and I spotted money on the ground. When finding money it’s usually a five-dollar bill or something less.  A couple of ones.  On a great day, a ten spot. I haven’t found money in a long time… …and this time, I kind of gasped because it was a hundy. And it wasn’t alone. There were two one-hundred-dollar bills and two twenties. $240 is a pretty great score. And a lot of money to the poor bastard who lost it. I looked around. There wasn’t anyone within shouting distance. I didn’t see anyone searching the street for their lost cash. I wasn’t going to go up to random people and ask them if they lost anything lately, and the law is pretty clear on this issue: Finders keepers  Losers weepers. Then I did something supremely stupid: I told Kathy. She won’t rest until she has ever...
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June the 2!

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It’s a great day today because it makes me think of Dad and Uncle Jim and my siblings. A day that Italian Americans have chosen to, uh, I don’t even know! Sort of the day when everything comes due. June the 2. It’s funny, but yesterday I was in the Dollar General getting dog bones because every day is an Ollie day, and a middle-aged black guy approached singing ‘Soul Man’. We turned that into a discussion about John Belushi and how great that song was on SNL. “Are you Italian heritage?” The man blurted out. I laughed because he caught me off-guard. “I can tell. It’s around your eyes, and the way you talk.” I laughed again. “I grew up around all the Italian families in Niagara Falls,” he said. He mentioned a few names. “You look Italian,” he added. We fist-bumped and I said, “Have a great day.” He responded with: “Happy June the 2”. Classic.
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A Perfect Day

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The weather was exactly perfect. 70 degrees and carts were allowed on the fairway. We had our usual 4-some together for the first time all year, and the driver troubles are all sorted out. (I don’t want to discuss the putter - it’s too soon). But I enjoyed every swing. Returned home and made a huge turkey with all the sides, and headed out to play ball with Ollie, and noticed that a fawn settled in behind the fence and watched. It was remarkable. The fawn was at full attention, as Ollie ran on by retrieving every toss. I walked closer, and the fawn just looked at me. I was less than 10’ away. Finally, the fawn stood up, and that’s when Ollie noticed him, and chased the fawn down rhe fence line. Very cool. By 6:00, I was worn out. Put some ice on my back and watched some mindless television. Brilliant sunshine. Good food. The boys were here to see the Yankees score 13 runs in one inning. And it dawned on me. That’s all Americans want. We don’t need a ballroom/bunker. Or fights on the Wh...
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Happy Anniversary!

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Twenty-nine years ago, we were married in left field at the town park in North Collins. I was just 32 years old. And of course: “No one knows which way loves wheel turns. Will we hit it rich, or crash and burn?” We’ve done all right, and today we celebrate. I’m making a turkey because I know it’s Kathy’s favorite meal. I’ll make the stuffing too, because that’s what I like. The wedding was a great time. Beer and music and pouring rain, with everyone I ever met showing up to wish us well, We talked a little bit about the wedding, but we also kicked around all the stuff we have had to battle through since. Being married for 29 years is no small feat. There are good days, great days and days where the best thing you can do is retreat to separate corners. I’d say we are pretty safe on making it out to the end, but I know a guy who divorced his wife after 52 years of marriage. Seriously. When I asked him about it he said: “I should’ve left her 40 years ago.” Then, five years after their div...
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