Thoughts of a Common Man

On that airplane ride last week I finished my beer and turned it to my lips, draining every last drop. I turned to my coworker and said - "Another dead beer." He just sort of looked at me - there's not a lot to say about that, is there? Letting a couple of moments pass, and looking out the small window, thinking about the grand universe, I said - "What if there's a beer limit in heaven?" My coworker stared at me. "What if we're only supposed to have so many through the course of our lives and God is keeping count?" "You're out of your freaking mind," he said. "I know you're a writer and all, but who thinks of that shit?" "Seriously, I get there, thinking I've lived a great life and God says "You had 72,436 beers - and you were only allowed 50,000." "Why would he allow you 50,000 beers?" my coworker asked, finally buying in. "Maybe it's a hundred thousand limit." "I hope

Thought of my father and his quick wit... some of his classic quick jokes: Joke #1 "Ass" is in the Bible - he once told me. "Prove it," I said. "It was one of the miracles," he answered. "Moses tied his ass to a tree and walked 3 miles." Joke #2 - Man is in the hospital and his doctor comes to visit - "I have good news and bad news," he says. "Give me the bad news," the man replies. "We had to amputate both of your feet." "My God," the man says - "What can possibly be the good news?" The doctor answers - "The man in the next bed wants to buy your boots." Joke #3 - A man is passing by a herd of sheep - he goes to the s hepherd - "I hear that sheep are a lot like women," he says. "It's unbelievable," the s hepherd responds. "Do you mind if I have relations?" "Be my guest," the shepherd says. A little while later the man comes back and says to

Aren't kids great? I always say that they allow us to see the grace in the world. After a rough week of travel and beating deadlines and writing reports, I wasn't into much of anything come Friday night. I honestly just wanted to go to bed around 6 PM. I felt my mood slipping, slipping, slipping. I decided to hang with the boys. We played a game of basketball - Jake and Sam against me. Although I have a strong desire to let them win - I can't yet give up the title as the best basketball player in the house. I beat Matt on his birthday, so I beat the dynamic duo last night - but not after laughing at them fouling me on every play, double-dribbling and walking with the ball, and talking smack the whole time. Next they went down the slip and slide and it wasn't working right, so I just disconnected the hose and shot them with it as they came down the slide. I was blasting them in the chest and head and they were yelping with glee each and every time. I found that the mor

I was born in a small town...my parents live in that same small town... I was taught to fear Jesus in the small town... Got back from Washington-Maryland-Virginia where I spent two days on planes, trains, and automobiles to visit jobs in the area. (I wasn't the Steve Martin character - so that would make me, uh, John Candy?) I couldn't have been happier when the plane hit the ground in Buffalo so I could just settle into my car and race 20 miles to home without much fear of gridlocked traffic and 70,000 people in a two block radius. Let me tell you about my trip - I spilled coffee on a guy in a suit on the subway. As I was helping him towel off, I looked at my co-worker who had witnessed the whole thing. I was doing the "I'm so sorry, please forgive me speech," when I caught my buddy's eye. We both started laughing - the victim shrugged away, huffing down the line at my utter amusement. Oh yeah, you're not supposed to drink coffee on the train. There were

I might have said it before, but I remember my grandfather telling me that life is a shit sandwich. I don't know why, but I was flying home last night and watching the world out the small window. My favorite part about flying is when we begin our descent and break through the clouds. Returning to Buffalo last night, the cloud cover was heavy, so the break-through was more pronounced. I was dead tired. My beer was gone and they weren't offering a second. Sammy boy was having his eighth birthday and they were holding the cake until I got home. Yet when I saw life from way up high, I could only laugh at my grandfather's saying. Life from an airplane window seems different. Everything looks as if it's in a perfect pattern. The charging atmosphere and the changing landscape lend a feeling of true comfort - somehow. The pools in the backyards are bright blue - the baseball diamonds always look perfectly designed. Hey look, there's my house. I thought about how complicate

I'm currently wearing a beige shirt and plaid shorts. Both clothing items are brand new and I wasn't allowed to wear them until today - we have a party at the in-laws and I am about to make my debut, looking presentable. Both my wife and I are well aware that these clothes are never going to look as good as they do today. In a matter of hours the beige shirt may be unwearable. It's just another attempt to change the look, and I'm telling you right now - it won't work. We were also talking about "the look" from early in our relationship. My wife was complaining to one of her co-workers that I don't look at her the same way as I did when it was all brand new. I suppose that perhaps she's right - although I argued against her reasoning. Yet its all about the way that relationships evolve, right? My parents have been married for nearly 50 years - you think there's that same sense of wonder as when they were dating? Now the look has evolved into tha

There's a reality show where you must guess the lyrics. I thought of this show tonight as Elton John's Tiny Dancer played - I don't sing Tiny Dancer anymore - now I sing " Hold me closer Tony Danza ," because I heard some moron on Howard Stern sing those lyrics. That ain't all - In John Mellencamp's Jack and Diane - my wife - woefully off-tune sings - " Let the Bottle Bounce come and save my Soul ." (What the eff does that mean?) The actual words to the song are - " Let the Bible Belt come and save my soul." I have a lifelong buddy named Palmer - when Bruce sings - " Rosie Come out Tonight ," I think of my blood brother and the lyrics carry me back through time. We both know all of the lyrics. Yet blowing the lyrics is pretty common in a lot of songs - I was singing Neil Diamond's " Forever in Blue Cheese Tonight and I thought of my brother-in-law Chuck who wrote his own perfect lyrics to Paul Young's - &quo

Let's see, Christie Brinkley is 54 - I'm 43 - I watched her model everything from a swimsuit to underwear. I saw her turn as Chevy Chase's fantasy girl in Vacation. I thought it was great when she married Billy Joel - a regular-looking guy - and was sort of down on her when that whole thing went sour. Now she's in the middle of what promises to be an ugly divorce from her latest husband who was caught with a teenager, and reportedly spent a lot of hours trolling porn sites for fantasy girls of his own. Really? Men get sick of Christie Brinkley? I guess it shows that restlessness can manufacture ugly behavior. I believe it was Springsteen who in one of the greatest love and lack of love albums of all-time (Tunnel of Love) said, "In a restless heart the seed of betrayal lays." In that album he also speaks of marriage by saying - "Would they ever look so happy again, the handsome groom and his bride, as they step into their black limousine for their myster

Last week I went back to college. In 1986 I graduated from Gannon University in Erie, PA. and as luck might have it, I had to return to Zurn Hall because one of my construction clients was doing some work in the building. It's strange how much your mind kicks back to you. I had not entered the building in 22 years, but the sights, and the sounds were so familiar that I was almost 21 again. I thought of visitng the auditorium with a friend of mine who needed me to write a paper for her about "The Gods Must Be Crazy." It was a goofy movie with pre-historic men in it who find a coke bottle. I remember laughing hard, and drawing the ire of my friend. Of course, I was drunk at the time and she was seriously doubting my ability to help her write the paper. She bitched and moaned about how irresponsible I was - and in the end, I finished the paper, she typed it and got an A. I thought of jumping parking meters in front of Zurn Hall - yeah, we used to leap high over the meters an

I was just 13 years old on June 18, 1978. The Yankees were just coming off of their first World Series win in 13 years and me, my brothers, and my father were all excited about their chances to make it back to the big show in October. Ron Guidry was a skinny lefthander who was throwing gas to start the year. He was pitching that night thirty years ago against the California Angels. The game wasn't on television and I couldn't check the scores on the Internet. I'm sure that I was driving my father absolutely crazy, but I needed to follow the game - it wasn't on the radio in Buffalo, either, and ESPN still hadn't even debuted. I can remember my father leading me to the car. In the driveway, we sped through the dials looking for the game, and if everything was right we could hear Frank White and Scooter (Phil Rizzuto) call the game from New York City. We could only pick up the game in the driveway. "Guidry struck him out!" Scooter called. My Dad sat beside me

It's raining hard. I love the reaction of the dogs when it's raining this hard - they know they have to go out to do their duty. They understand that going in the house is going to cause a scene, but they are willing to risk it. It's almost as if they gauge their options and figure - I'm crapping in comfort, I'll take the beating. There - just kicked them out the door. Doesn't the nice weather wear you down even more - not that it's nice now - it's raining, pay attention. Yet it seems that there is so much more to do. In the winter, we can relax because there aren't any baseball games, no playing catch, forget a bike ride. I sleep better in the winter and relax at least a little. Oh well, it'll be here soon. Obama is blaming the GOP for not finding Bin Laden. McCain says we're winning in Iraq - what do we win by the way? One of those little trophies that rewards us for our participation? My kids have a closetful of participation medals. Perha

The kids will be up soon and I imagine that I'll receive an article of clothing or two that is blue, or pinstriped with the interlocking NY on it. Which is great - you can never have enough Yankee stuff. Yet Father's Day always seems to put me into a reflective mood and that's because, no matter what, it is the most important job I have. Of course, I think of my own father and the lessons learned. He taught by example and some of the examples I accept and others I need to eliminate. That's how it goes. My boys will need to do the same. It's because your Dad is the guy you depend upon, criticize, and battle for position. He's often the biggest pain in your ass and the most calming influence all at once. If he is serious about his job, that's what he tries to do, anyway. My father's greatest advice to me was "Don't compete with anyone but yourself. If someone gives you a job to do, do more than what they expected." I try to teach that to my k

58 is too freaking young to leave when you have work to do. Tim Russert was a newsman made good from Buffalo and he always represented well. I read a review of his life in the NY Post today and it spoke of the family values, the hardworking, honest approach that he took, and the way he enjoyed his life. The article stated that no matter how rich and famous he grew to be - he never forgot the blue-collar ways of his hometown. Paragraph after paragraph spoke of his honesty, and family values. It was almost as though the writers couldn't believe that a man could remain honest and true all of his days. I thought of an old Chris Rock routine about a man who yells - "I take care of my kids," as though he should get an award for doing so. I thought of the book Tim Russert wrote speaking of his love for his dad - and of family values. I read about his dedication to his wife and child, and I must admit, I grew sad. He died too soon. Yet he spent his life representing Buffalo well.

Let's see... my 2nd day out of town started with me getting out of bed at 6 AM and checking outside my hotel room door to see if they left a copy of the USA Today. As I swung the door open I bent down to see if they left the periodical and the steel rod that is used for the safety latch for the door went straight into my right eye. Two minutes after waking up, I was on my knees in front of the door, convinced that I'd poked my freaking eye out. I got lucky - the rod went between my nose and my eyeball and for the first time in my life, I have a shiner. I look tough! I always thought I'd get my first black eye after saying something like, "You know what I think, I think you're a ....." What a way to go. Tomorrow is Jake's 11th birthday and he's having a sleep-over. Can't believe how much his arrival on the scene 11 years ago changed every aspect of my life. When kids arrive they bring a window into the grace of the world and being around them allows

I like Willie Nelson and that particular song - just not to fond of being on the road anymore for work. It's especially lousy in the summer when there are things to do around the yard and little league games to watch! This little trip is also particularly difficult as I am gone for a few days with Saturday included. One of those days is Jake's 11th birthday. It was a goofy quirk in scheduling, but nothing that I could change - so here I sit - counting the minutes - waiting for a call from home to see what's going on. Another lousy bed in another lousy hotel room and to make matters worse - the Yanks are on the West Coast and the friggen games don't start until 10:00. Yet there are men who do this sort of thing week in and week out. Some people travel well - I honestly used to - I'd go down to the well and drink my fill - and I would still be out of bed early - ready to go and looking forward to more beer - of course, I was only in my twenties then and all I was taki

Some thoughts collected while wondering what happened to Wojo from the old Barney Miller show: 1). Marshawn Lynch still has not has his day in court. I work in the construction field and a lot of hard working guys were wondering what the hell? I asked each one of them if it had been them what would have happened. "I did the same thing," one guy said. "Yet I only hit a parked car, not a human being. The cops not only came to my house, they broke down my door and ripped me out of bed. I spent a day and a half in jail." Yeah... Marshawn isn't getting special treatment because he runs with a pigskin. 2). My discussion with a bunch of hardworking masons also centered around not being able to afford to even get to work anymore. "I need to drive 55 miles each way. The oil companies are making record profits, and we're being told how lucky we are that we aren't paying 9 bucks a gallon. If it goes that high, I'll be on welfare." We all will be. 3).

Went to my 2nd Little League game of the weekend and I may not be attending another one for awhile. Jake's team isn't great. The team they were scheduled to play was - and their coach looked and acted just like Matt Dillion's character in "There's Something About Mary." Problem was - he never shut-up. Every pitch was a chance for him to let us all in on his baseball knowledge. He yelled at the kids, cheered when the other team made an out, and got real close to being beat with a baseball bat. He always shouted out his words - "Come on, Blue, that was there," and then clapped his hands like a lunatic five times. "Come on David, get the stick on the ball and drive it." Clap,clap,clap, clap,clap. Yet I held my tongue. Even when I caught him giving the steal sign to his 9-year-old runner. Even when he clapped loudly as his pitcher - who although he was 9 or 10 - was bigger than me. He also threw harder than me, but I was confident that I could

I've learned not to count on people I don't know. I have friends and family who would drive off a cliff to help me, but there are people out there who don't give two hoots if I get hit by a bus or make it through the day. I've learned that everyone is searching for an advantage and that it usually boils down to money. In the greatest weakness of my life, I have never truly given the right amount of respect to what is essentially just paper and ink. I've learned that a good spouse is perfect companion to work your ways through days of doubt, but that a bad spouse can bring the dark clouds on a routine basis. We choose the people we make the journey with - choose wisely. I've learned that when shit happens, it multiplies. It always seems that bad things happen in tens. Things begin to ricochet in my mind and all of a sudden all hope seems lost. (See next lesson). I've learned that this too shall pass. All of the worries of today are gone with the coming sun o

Went out to watch Jake's Little League game - as I watched the game a ton of thoughts went through my mind. First and foremost - at least there was a game for me to watch - Jake almost never made it to Little League , but there he was looking at a called third strike in his 2 nd at bat. He rushed over to me after being punched out. I saw the disappointment on his face. "That 2 nd pitch that he called a strike bounced," he said. "You did great," I said. "I struck out with the bases loaded," he reminded me. "Not a big deal," I said. Yet I thought back to my own Little League career and it was a big deal. I remember the catcher from my old team climbing a tree and pissing his pants because he struck out. I also recall hitting a triple off of Digger Braymiller - and no one did that - Digger threw like a man - he graciously shook my hand after I hit the triple and then struck out the next three batters as I rotted on 3rd. During Jake's ga

I propose changing the name from New York State to New Tax State- with of course, New Tax City being the albatross. The cigarette tax is cruel and inhuman to those of us who are trying to kill ourselves slowly. Don't smokers have enough problems with the rancid breath, nicotine stained fingers and cranky personalities? (My wife is excluded from that, by the way). Aren't they shunned enough by society by being made to stand outside of bars where all the good drinking is going on? Yet it speaks to a bigger problem here in New Tax State. We are taxed to drive, taxed to smoke, taxed to breath and live. We will soon be taxed to go to the freaking bathroom. Sure, why not? Crank toilet paper up a buck and a half a roll. Everyone needs to use it - why not tax it? Our kids can't afford to go to school. We can't afford to start a business. We won't be able to drive from here to there without a $10 toll and $300 for a tank of gas. The roads have potholes. The water tastes bad.

Growing up I really wanted to play sports for a living. My children are in the same boat, pretending to be Jeter or A-Rod or Marshawn Freaking Lynch. It hit the skids for me right around the time that I figured out that most of my friends were faster, stronger, and could jump higher than me. I gave up trying to be the center-fielder for the Yankees right around the time I turned 8 years old. What a shame when a dream dies. Yet I never imagined that sports stars would get such treatment. Imagine this: Say I'm driving home from a bar on Saturday night (Sunday AM) and I run down a woman in the road. As little-known author Cliff Fazzolari, I most likely would not make it home before the cops grabbed me. Yet what if I did. When do you think the cops, armed with my license plate number and a bunch of eye witnesses would show up to bust me? I'm guessing before church on Sunday, right? Marshawn Lynch's vehicle was involved in such a mishap on Saturday night. Did the cops knock on h

It was a slow ride to work this morning as the 33 was jammed. I couldn't figure what the problem might be as the best part about working in Buffalo is that there isn't a lot of gridlock and we can be almost anywhere in about twenty minutes. I heard a few sirens off in the distance, but I was listening to Howard Stern and it wasn't affecting me all that much -until I saw the wreck. A black car was upside down and it was apparent that whoever had been driving was in a world of trouble. My heart did a sudden leap into my throat as I said a quick prayer for the man or woman who, at best, was trapped inside. Every so often there is a reminder that life is fragile and can end on a whim, or a bad turn, or a lightning strike, or a fall, or a freak accident. I did the whole writer's scenario giving the anonymous driver a wife, a couple of kids, a home with a view and a million reasons to stay alive. Seeing how fragile life is surely makes me appreciate the little moments around

Was fortunate enough to listen in as my father and my father-in-law were speaking of their marriages. My parents have been married for 48 years. My in-laws are currently at 51 years. Just before their 50th anniversary I asked my father-in-law what he wanted for a present - "A divorce," he answered. It was even better yesterday. My father asked me how long I had been married. "11 years," I said. "That's nothing, 48 years for us." That was when my father-in-law walked over. "How many of those were happy?" he joked. "I was all right with the first two weeks," my father answered. "Really?" my father-in-law answered. "I started getting shit in the middle of the first week." Just a classic family moment.

A few thoughts collected while wondering whatever happened to Billy Ocean: --- My son put on his Marshawn Lynch jersey this morning because he wanted to aggravate me. It is being reported that Lynch's automobile was involved in a hit and run accident in Buffalo. My son likes to remind me that catching or running with a football is what excites him - no matter the character of the man. My wife often sides with him - "Just let him be a kid," she'll say. "Why don't we get him a jersey with Hitler on the back?" I'll ask. Now I'm not comparing these guys with Hitler - but there are a lot of good human beings out there to emulate - felons, rapists, murderers, hit and run drivers, wife-beaters, men who pistol whip their parents - I have little tolerance for that. --- Read a story today about young men and women of the military committing suicide at an alarming rate due to longer stints, the horrors of war, and general discontent for the fight. There ha