Thoughts of a Common Man

You know when you get loaded onto a plane, like cattle, and you are forced to share very limited space with complete strangers, it sort of occurs to you that other people suck, and that no matter if you consider yourself a people-person, you're going to cringe with the thought of actually speaking with them. I had an I-pod and two books. Listened to the I-pod and read both of the books before my trip was through. In between, I heard a crying baby. Now, don't get me wrong, I know how difficult it is to keep a baby from crying, but when they do that ear-piercing scream in the middle of a moving airplane, it's aggravating. "Give that kid a chicken bone," as my Dad used to say. Then the woman and her husband next to me got to cooing about their love for one another. She kissed his hand at one point, and then he took to rubbing her back as she groaned in delight. "Care to make it a threesome?" the guy behind me said, and we all laughed. I thought it would put

Harry Chapin once wrote a song that is the title of this blog. I kept thinking of it this week as I was away in Las Vegas. What started as a work trip, and slowly evolved into a pleasure trip if my wife could go, turned back into a work trip when she couldn't. So, what you had was a guy in Buffalo, thinking about being in Vegas before leaving, and a guy in Vegas, wishing he could be back in Buffalo while he was there. And therein lies the problem that Chapin wrote about. Someone who goes through life wishing he were somewhere else is one messed-up, lonely dude when it comes right down to it. Not to say that the trip was a hardship. I had a little fun. I threw ten bucks down on #23 at the roulette wheel, looked up and said, 'Help a brother out.' The first number was 26. So I tossed another ten down. Mind you, I was only playing with a twenty. "Twenty-three, red," the woman said. "Pays 35 to 1." I laughed. It was pretty much the highlight of the gambling t

So Charlie Sheen is headed to rehab. Again. It's fairly sad because what will bug me most about it is that his show will go into repeats for awhile. And isn't that pathetic? The whole world is watching this guy die a slow death and the media is huddled around wondering if he can do his little half-hour comedy sketch every week. I'm about the same age as Charlie. We are separated by about 11 tax brackets, but we do share a few weaknesses. Like drink and a love for women. He does the drugs and the porn, which are mildly interesting items, but not something I'd get hooked on. My love of women, of course, is isolated to one, but why quibble? Still, he's 45 years old. Isn't it time to grow up? Money or not. I've been fairly tired lately. Too much work, too much travel. Too much sadness, too many days when I'd like to bag it and drink the goose. I have decided, although my life doesn't depend on it like Charlie's, to fill the empty spaces with somethin

The big story around Buffalo is about the man who beheaded his wife a couple of years ago. As the story goes, he felt as if he had no choice because she was rough on him. Seems like a mighty weak defense to me, you know? The are a lot of ways that you might, as a man, be able to handle an abusive situation. Perhaps it is different for a woman, fearing for her physical safety, but you mean to tell me that this guy was so afraid of being yelled at by his wife that he could only respond by cutting off her melon? My wife doesn't abuse me, by any stretch of the imagination, and I'm quite sure that she doesn't feel threatened, at all by me. First and foremost, she might be able to kick my ass. Secondly, we respect one another. The kids laugh whenever we ask them who is in charge at our house. It's her, and I accept that, but I certainly don't feel beat down. Now that's not to say that there haven't been quiet moments as we contemplate my lousy behavior, but for th

I have been granted 730 days to live without talking with my brother. Let me tell you, it blows. 2 years ago today I got the call to tell me Jeff had collapsed at work. It is hard to pinpoint moments in your life that will forever change your life, but that wasn't one of them. So, how has life changed in 730 days? Sadly, some days it hasn't. I am still right there. Still out of control. Still trying to keep my head above water. Every single day. Every lousy moment. Knowing that there needs to be a moment of acceptance. Never wanting to accept it. I am battling though. Knowing that there has been some progress made in 730 short days...knowing I need a million more for acceptance. I do need to know that my beautiful wife and my wonderful children have kept me afloat over the last two years. Without them, there would be so much more pain. So where do we go from here? Onto day #731, right? Thats life. That is how we sustain. An hour at a time. A day at a time. Celebrate the day yo

It sort of smacks as a public relations deal, doesn't it? Oprah announced yesterday that she has a sister that no one knows about. A couple of interesting aspects, huh? First off, I heard an interview with Oprah's husband, Gayle King, who said that she didn't think that Oprah should make a spectacle of it by announcing it on the show. Like Oprah could do anything without holding a press conference. What good is it to have a sister if you can't get ratings out of it? Secondly, who'd a thunk that when Oprah announced that she had a sister that it would turn out that Oprah would be the skinny, cute one? The best part of it all though is that it also caught Oprah's dad by complete surprise. So, let me get this straight: Oprah is the moral compass on everything. She tells us what to read, what to eat, how to love, how to talk, and how to pray...and she comes from a place where men father children and don't even know about it? Still, you talk about hitting the lot

A friend of mine, Jeff Schober, along with police officer Dennis Delano wrote a book about the capture of the Bike Path Rapist that terrorized Buffalo for twenty plus years. The man, Al Sanchez, was caught a few years back. First off, the book is great. Jeff did a wonderful job of telling the story with style and grace. That certainly couldn't have been easy because his subject was a pure monster who didn't care even a little about human life. Shameless plug for Jeff...the book is entitled Bike Path Rapist...google it and order it! Secondly, the pull of the story for me was that Sanchez had a wife, a couple of kids, and worked among us in the community, all the while keeping the filthiest of secrets. My mind was caught up in the how and whys of it all. There were no answers in the book, possibly because there are no answers. One of the most compelling aspects of the story comes when the author puts Sanchez' words out there for interpretation. Sanchez' father wasn't

I can't believe that they are changing the language in Mark Twain's classics so that ethnic groups aren't offended. Not only is that an infringement on his work, it is downright stupid as well. I wrote a book called Desperation and I wanted one of my characters, Billy Barth, to personify pure evil. As you might guess, he had a toilet mouth. Would a character meant to be evil talk like Ward Cleaver? I didn't think so. I wasn't making the guy swear so that I could shock someone into buying filth. The best way to convey evil was to make the man evil. A couple of months after the book came out...it is a book about hope and redemption and faith that rises above evil...a woman stood before me at a Media Play Book Signing. She held the open, already purchased book open to the middle. There were yellow highlights all over my words. "How can you sleep at night writing such filth?" she asked. I was shocked. I felt like I was being yelled at. Something that had taken

So, Jack LaLanne is gone. He died at the age of 96 and they said he was exercising, every day right up until the end. Reminds me of Redd Foxx saying, "Exercise is for dopes. Some day they'll be lying in bed dying of nothing." We all end up on the wrong side of zero eventually. LaLanne got more time than most though. RIP. Speaking of the wrong side of zero have you been outside? Don't you wish that running across someone when the mercury is on the wrong side of zero, that they'd say something other than, 'It's really cold out there.' What's the response to that? I go with, 'Um, uh, no shit.' So the J-E-T-S! Jets, Jets, Jets were eliminated again. They are not my hometown team so the emotional investment isn't the same - of course the Yankees are not my hometown team either, but that's different - but still, I certainly have a problem with Pittsburgh and wish I didn't. I have a lot of friends in that fine city. Rapistpervert is my

"Are you coming to my game?" Sam asked as soon as we crossed paths yesterday morning. I decided to make him sweat it out a little. "I went to your game last week and you got blown out," I said. "It was 38 to 8." "We'll be better today." A half hour later we had this exchange: "Are you coming to my game?" "Are you going to shoot?" "As often as I can," he said. And boy, did he. Two minutes in he missed. Then he missed at least three more. A couple that were halfway down before popping back up. He looked at me and shrugged. Moments later, in rapid succession, he took two more shots that were off the mark. This time, he didn't glance up. His head found the ground and there was a real sour look on his face. Yet the kid has something that I never had. His court sense is good and he is always in the game, battling for his shot, playing D, and bringing the ball up court. At a short break he looked at me again. "

They go by different names: Switala, Walsh, Ingram, Darin, Neisser, but make no mistake...they are full of Fazzolari blood, brashness and attitude and over the last few weeks, they have filled my heart with love and life, and celebration when it comes to Oh Brother! Little story here: About twenty years ago I was working in Baltimore. This was fun for a number of reasons. 1). I was single. (Although being married to my beautiful wife is a million times better) 2). I was hanging around with a group of buddies from college and 3). Fuzzy South was alive with laughter. In Easter of 1991...I went to Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Lenny's for the day. Word on the street is that I mistakenly ate a dozen eggs for breakfast when I assumed that the platter of eggs meant for everyone was simply prepared for me. Simple mistake. Could happen to anyone. I don't remember much of a struggle finishing them. After an expertly made dinner and laughter that made my stomach ache (it wasn't the eggs), I

Hands down, if you asked my wife if there were one thing she could change about our daily existence, it would be that she would like the arguing, about senseless things to end. For instance: It drives me up the wall that everyone in the world has come to some sort of agreement that Michael Jordan was the greatest basketball player ever. My kids believe that because it was all they were fed as they studied the sport. They never even saw the man play! Yet enough people have repeated it for it to become fact. I beg to differ. My argument being that he won all those titles after Magic and Bird quit; he shot every time he got the ball; he was a miserable guy most of the time; cheated and dumped his family; spoke as if his poopy didn't stink; and is also in those horrible underwear commercials and while complaining about not having enough time to himself because the media was stalking him, appeared with Bugs and Daffy in a cartoon movie. Plus, and this is my main argument: if he would ha

This morning I set off down the road early...like 5:30...towards Rochester to be on live television to talk about Oh Brother! With a valuable assist from a great friend, Terry, I was to be interviewed. Let me tell you, lack of sleep has hurt my emotional state of mind. I got behind the wheel, with the full moon calling to me, and my mind in tune to how I wanted the interview to go. I felt as much like crying as I did sleeping. I put on my I-pod and asked the gods of music to strengthen my mind as I drove. I wanted to hear from Jeff, and after a few songs from Seger, Ryan Adams, Paul Simon and the like, I got the Bruce song I was looking for. Living Proof... The lyric that spoke to me was: Well now all that's sure, on the boulevard is that life is just a house of cards as fragile as each and every breath of these boys sleeping in our beds Tonight lets lie beneath the eaves just a close band of happy thieves and when the train comes we'll get on board and steal what we can from t

From Janice Catalano: Cliff, Well Done! You had me laughing and crying at the same time. A beautiful testimony to your beautiful brother! He would've been proud. Yes, probably a sarcastic comment here or there, but nonetheless proud. Take care and keep the books coming! From Chris Mokadam: Cliff, Thank you for sending the book! My husband is a Springsteen groupee too. He has been to 15 Bruce concerts and we recently went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to check out the Springsteen exhibit. I can tell that once I start reading the book I won't be able to put it down. I can tell that you have a wonderful family! Thank you. From Linda Sibigia: Thank you for the book! It was AWESOME! From Vicki Haas: Cliff, Thank you so much for sharing this story. I so wish I could have had the chance to meet Jeff! You gave us a way to feel as if we knew Jeff and that is a great gift. Your family has endured so much, yet you all continue to set the gold standard in terms of family values, love a

I have no idea what will come out of this new post. Just feel as if I must make a post that is new. Should we check the news? Watching football this weekend I caught a recap of a bunch of New Orleans Saints fans watching a television screen that showed Manning throwing a pick-6 in last years game. Those fans were going crazy. It made me think of a couple of things: 1). Going that crazy with excitement about a game. I sort of cheer like that for the Yanks and definitely did in my other lifetime when the Bills were good, but in front of that set was a fat guy in a Saints jersey, and it made me wonder. Did he feel like a part of the team? Did he imagine himself as Drew Brees, throwing the long pass and getting the love of the ladies? Watch for that commercial. Think of me. 2). During the Bears game in a driving snow there were a couple of guys that were shirtless. What does that prove? How stupid you are? How hearty Da' Bears fans are? I don't even like to take off my shirt to mow

The name of this blog is one of the best Simpsons lines ever. The dialogue goes something like this: Bart: Those Guys Suck! Marge: I swear to God, I don't know where you kids learn such language. Homer (on the telephone): That sucked. Those guys were the suckiest bunch of guys that ever sucked. I thought of that line all morning. I had some training to do for a company and not only did they choose to do this training on MLK day, they also started it at 7 AM (an hour away from my house), and they needed to get the training done...outside. To get there by 7...I was up at 4:45. I took Melky for her morning ride and headed to the site. Check out yesterday's blog...I was sick, by the way. Ah, as the kids might say: Boo-freaking-Hoo. Or better yet...saddle up the mule it's time for work. Whatever. I wasn't going to whine. I had my get-it-done attitude. Until I froze my freaking big-ass-mule-ass off. It was about three degrees this morning. Every time I had to watch an employe

Last week Kathy really battled with a cold. From the outside looking at her it seemed as though it were a miserable battle that zapped a lot of her energy, but true to her nature, she went about her business of work and school. I did try to help, but I also stood in the shadows reminding her that I don't get sick because I take such good care of myself, treat my body like a temple, and of course, eat well-balanced, sensible meals. To be honest, I am sort of convinced that I don't get the flu or colds because I eat hot peppers with everything. I actually sometimes sprinkle red pepper flakes on my cereal. Okay, not true. I don't eat much cereal, but you get the idea. I also wash my hands a lot and I never, I mean never...do anything other than go to the hand sanitizer after shaking someone's hand. It has become an absolute obsession. As I'm shaking their hand, however, I immediately think: what if he just finished scratching his ass or picking his nose...so hand sanit

So, two months after getting his driver's license, Matt, on his way to school yesterday, decided that he would rather take the bus. He should have got out of his car before trying to board the bus though. Yep, smashed right into the back end of an empty school bus. So much for the plan to quit working because he had enough money, huh? Now, thankfully, no one was injured, but the whole event sort of left us shaking our heads a bit about how prepared Matt is to enter the world. When asked to produce the insurance card and registration he was yelling, "I don't know what that is." Then confronted by a clearly agitated bus driver who was yelling at him for following too close Matt apologized. The yelling continued so he apologized again. The driver yelled a little more about responsibility, and Matt uttered the line that will never be forgotten. It will be told to his children and their children down the line. "Stop yelling at me, or I'm going to call my mother!&q

I never liked Charlton Heston. The NRA ads made me cringe for a lot of years. Guns don't kill people. People kill people. Fine. Nice, catchy saying. For all the mentally stable people in the world that makes sense. Try this for sense. 16,000 murders a year in the most civilized country in the world. And growing. When will there be a new idea that is hatched that solves such a problem? I don't want to take your gun away, model citizen. You have the right to bare arms. Even though that was written in a completely different time when the threat of the government stealing your world was more of a reality. Protect yourself. I don't give a shit. Buy a gun at Wal-Mart and shoot 15 people including women and children and I question the rights. The rights of a man who's very photo brings thoughts of a lunatic in a thriller film. How is it so easy to get a gun? Before you take up your argument, think of the loss of life. Think of the people wiped out. Think of the hundreds of peo

So, old golden-voice boy Ted Williams has a sordid past. Who would've thunk that a guy living on the streets with 9 kids, a drug and alcohol problem, a taste for pissing outside, and a past of not being able to hold a job, was not quite so suited for fame and fortune. Ted is off to rehab, and perhaps even to the dentist to work on those choppers. Before that though, he sat down with a fraud and took a serious berating. Think back...one week ago everyone was passing the video around. Then Today Show, article after article speaking of redemption...and then "Dr." Phil. I am not a fan of "Dr." Phil. For the simple reason that he is not a doctor. He is not an accredited man. He slapped the Dr. in front of his name so that it would carry more weight when he was shoveling his crap. And speaking of carrying more weight. I once watched him totally hammer on a couple of really big people who, as he said, were suffering from self-esteem issues, and were not smart enough to

"Oh Brother!" teaches lessons on life and love Hamburg Sun, January 13, 2011 It is more important to enjoy life than it is to try to understand it. This is both the mantra by which Jeff Fazzolari lived his life and the message that continues to inspire many after his untimely death. In his latest book, “Oh Brother!: The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari,” author Cliff Fazzolari keeps the memory of his brother alive by sharing humorous and heart-warming anecdotes of Jeff’s daily escapades. Known to his family as “the walking celebration,” Jeff had the ability to transform any ordinary situation into a party. Yet, as often as the book is funny, it is also incredibly sad. Any reader who has experienced loss can relate to the agonizing trial of the Fazzolari family as brothers, sisters, parents and in-laws spend countless hours and sleepless nights in the waiting rooms of Mercy Hospital in Buffalo. “I come from a tremendous family,” said Fazzolari. “This book was as much for them

In the middle of every tragedy is a slice of heaven. On Saturday in Arizona men and women alike teamed together to subdue that crazy bastard. Thank God they did too because the death toll may have been even higher. During 9/11 there were a number of documented heroes at the various scenes. Their participation may also have saved a number of lives. So, it got me thinking. What way would you go in a tragic scene such as the one that played out in Arizona? Would you run and hide? Would you take a stand? Would you be a hero even though it may cost you your life? Listening to Howard Stern this morning as they discussed this topic, Howard said that he would be in full retreat. "Feets don't fail me now," was his actual quote. When Robin asked if he would do anything if he were close enough to the gunman, he said, "I'd be shot in the center of the back. Obama would be praising everyone but he would also mention what a coward I was." And I wonder. "Feets don'

How can you not be horrified by the shooting in Tucson over the weekend? I'm not sure about you but the divisive nature of the liberals versus conservatives in this country is going to be our great undoing. I've been screaming for a few years that the gap must be bridged. We are all Americans, for crying out loud. Take aim at the Democrats with a scope sign on the website of the leading Republican candidate? What the hell did we think would happen? And every night there are channels after channels of bullshit being spewed, by both sides, about how the other side is wrong for America. You know what's wrong for America? This crap. Killing each other, even disrespecting one another, because he voted for Obama, or she voted for W. We all have our own thoughts about how the government should or shouldn't be run. Stand on any street corner and bring up politics with any passing stranger. Within minutes, you will be able to tell whether they are blue or red. And its absolutely

So, we are at the alumni basketball game last night and prior to the game we meet with the other team to ensure that the older members of the squad aren't forced to go head-to-head with the kids. The other team is fine with that idea. After all, the goal is to escape without serious injury. Meanwhile, I started to feel it in the warm-ups. After missing my first fifty attempts, I hit a couple of bombs. 'This could be okay,' I thought. We met in a huddle before the start of the game. A boy with pimples and no need for a razor chimed in: "So, the elderly guys are going to start and then we come in after five minutes, right?" he asked. Elderly? Elderly! Did he just call us elderly? We all laughed and told him that was correct and we headed to the court. I missed my first two shots, but then made my next two. Both bombs that were full surprises to the crowd...and to me, actually. The elderly guys left the court leading 10 to 5. The young guys blew the lead. And so it w

Last week I went to one of Matt's basketball games and all of the old feelings started to stir. It's weird, but watching kids play high school basketball takes me back to the days when I played. I remember how it felt to shoot a free throw, what it was like to see the ball go through the net as other people cheered. How wonderful it was to be on display with my friends as the whole school and the girls we all had crushes on looked on. Yes, every time I watch a game all those things come to the surface. I hardly remember that I rode the pine a bit. I don't even consider that during my first game on the varsity I get hit with an elbow thrown by Digger Braymiller and ended up breathing in smelling salts moments after entering the game. (Digger was on my team). I forget about the fact that I had so much arc on my shot that in the middle of one game I struck the rings high above the court and the crowd laughed when the ball landed a foot in front of me. I don't even try to r

So, by now, everyone has witnessed the video of the homeless man with the golden voice, right? We all know the story. The guy was spotted on the side of the road by a Columbus, Ohio newspaper reporter. He was holding a sign that spoke of his wonderful announcer voice and when he read a bit of script, the man sounded like the greatest voice ever. He is now being offered big jobs, parts in a movie, and free places to live. The Facebook community is abuzz with his story and the cute little phrases of redemption and second chances are starting to drive me a little nuts. I must be the only guy in the world not all a flutter with the man. What is wrong with me? It is a wonderful story of second chances and shots at redemption. I am all about that, right? It will also, most likely take the man off the streets and put him in a position of esteem. What about it rubs me the wrong way? Perhaps that his name is Ted Williams and that makes me think of the Red Sux and we all know my feelings on them

The first thing I did today...like millions of others...was think about the Mega Millions Drawing from last night. I only had five dollars worth, but you never know, right? The short drive to the store was done with Melky in the passenger seat, of course, and it was bone-chilling cold. I didn't care. With any luck, I'd be booking flights for fifty people for a Hawaiian get-away. Being that I am old and tired these days and a bit lazy, I thought of the machine next to the clerk. "Morning," she said. "How are you?" We are friends because we see each other every day. "Great, I won the Mega," I said. "No New York State winner," she answered before I even had the chance to check my ticket. "Maybe I just won a couple of mil," I said. I placed my ticket under the red flashing light. "Sorry You're not a winner." The read-out flashed back. "BUT I AM A WINNER!!!!" I cried. "HOW DOES THIS MACHINE KNOW I'M A

I had no idea what to really expect when the Gow School welcomed me into their assembly hall for a speech and a signing in support of Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari. I just knew that it was the place I was supposed to be to open up the book tour. So, imagine my surprise when the camera crew from WKBW-TV-7 greeted me first and asked me for an interview about the book and my brother. I was thrilled to do it...and the story will air on the six o'clock news tonight. But that's just part of the story. The headmaster, Brad Rogers, gave me a wonderful introduction and with the hall filled with students and faculty, I began to speak. I spoke of my brother celebrating life on a daily basis. We traded stories of wonderful practical jokes, many that the kids had already heard about. I told them about how Jeff had telephoned me when I stepped off live television to critique my performance....all to hearty laughs and extreme celebration. For most of the speech, I felt Jef

Oh Brother! has been out for just about two weeks now and the message of the book has been sent and received. I have written ten books. I have received positive feedback on much of what I've done, but nothing like this!!!! The presentation made by SterlingHouse Publisher was nothing short of fantastic with this story. The vision was supplied by Cindy Sterling and Nicole just went above and beyond what was needed to put a cover on the book that was worthy of the man the book was about. And don't even get me started on Megan....the editor who makes it all happen! Evidently, my message of love for all things Jeff was also very clear because I am being driven absolutely crazy by the kind words and long, wonderful stories about the joy, sorrow and laughter that the book has brought to each reader. To be honest, I am not totally surprised. We all worked very hard to put together a work that will stand the test of time and was done with love in our hearts. I am just simply overwhelmed

Making my rounds through a construction site today and it was bitterly cold...feet like a brick sort of cold with wind whipping through a building that had no roof. The man pictured above was working to demo a wall by swinging a sledgehammer, over and over and over again. He stopped to catch his breath and I snapped his photo because he was working hard and actually dressed for the job. "How's the new year going?" I asked. "I'm thoroughly disgusted 3 days in," he said. We both laughed, but who could blame the guy? I tried to tell him it wasn't so bad, but he got to talking about the Bills and how all the players on the team are millionaires and how that wouldn't be a problem because everyone likes to watch football and the money is there...but... "If I don't keep swinging this hammer like John Henry, they fire my ass. Ain't they accountable? Keep screwing up and they keep paying you millions anyway. Thoroughly disgusted." The man re

So if life is about making memories, why not make a few? Kathy, the boys and I went to the hockey game last night. The Sabres were playing the Bruins and as a surprise I picked up five tickets for Christmas, mainly because Sam hadn't stopped talking about the couple of games that he'd been to earlier in his life and I tell you something, the kid is dealing with the sort of memory his old man has. "Remember when we came down here to see Bruce?" he asked as we were heading into the arena. "Uncle John parked next to us and we all had to climb the fence to get to our car because they had locked the gate." Okay, yes, he's seen Springsteen twice. As an adult I regret the fact that I never saw Sinatra with my Dad so I wanted to give him the chance to see a legend before he got caught up in the rap crap. Anyway, I didn't remember climbing the fence. So, we settled into our seats and I explained how the Sabres were going to get beat. We had a little playful b

It's sort of funny how things work in a marriage. This morning, after a night of celebrating the new year with close friends in a rather contained setting, I turned to my beautiful wife and said, "Why don't you make me breakfast?" She laughed. "That's not my job," she said. And she's right. It isn't. It's my job and always has been. If we are all home, it comes down to me getting breakfast ready, and I never thought about it much until this morning. Of course, over the last several months, I have taken my short order cook duties to the extreme, bellowing out a name and then saying, "Your freaking breakfast is ready!" Sam particularly enjoys this and follows up for me, yelling the same words up the stairs to Kathy or Matt, or Jake. So I cook the breakfast and the kids know that if something breaks in this house it is Mom who gets the call. Our call for that one is MAINTENANCE! And maintenance comes running. Sometimes with her chest o