Thoughts of a Common Man

Woke up this morning to the news that Judge Judy was rushed to the hospital. Sounds like she's going to be okay. That right there was scary. So, why didn't I listen to my wife and stay off my feet yesterday? I really made a huge mistake, but I believe I am back on the mend. I had to go to the meeting, but let me tell you, I really wasn't sure I was going to make it back home. I've been in bed since. Which begs a bigger question. My wife is usually right when it comes to not doing dumb things, but there is a certain amount of, 'I'll show her.' Why is that? Melky won't let me out of her sight right now. I was doing a fair amount of groaning and there was a moment when Nurse Kathy lifted my leg to slide a pillow under. I cried out like a 9-year old girl and Melky growled at Kathy. Now my poor nurse can't walk in the room without being viewed as a threat. Its funny that a dog can sense pain and goes out of their way to protect. Ah well, tragedy averted.

I really thought I would be just fine today. Let me fill you in on my dementia. Had the surgery yesterday and felt okay. The leg was stiff to be sure, but nothing I couldn't handle. I thought of my brother, John, and how he got right up and headed to work. I was going to match the toughness. Uh, no. Pretty sore. And that's okay, but its the sense, or lack of sense that bothers me the most and I'm sure that a psychiatrist can have a field day with why I feel I have to whip the world every single day. I mean there has to be something wrong there, right? Somewhere along the way someone messed me up. I know a lot of others that would love the fact that they can sit under a blanket and watch crap assembled on the dvr. Not me! So, there has to be a name for this particular disorder, right? There's a name for everything else, right? But let me try to figure it out for myself. You see, my biggest problem with today was that my kids saw me unable to do what I am supposed to do f

So the hospital experience went pretty well. A little concerned that those gowns have to be worn, always feel like I'm about to show my big ass to some poor, unsuspecting nurse. I don't think they were traumatized in any way. The entire process is a little weird though and again, nothing but admiration for those who are able to help others like that. That's not an easy job. The ones who can do it with a sense of humor and a pleasant attitude are truly appreciated as well. I listened to the anesthesiologist as he explained how he was going to put me under. He told me about perhaps having to control things with a tube down my throat, if things went haywire and then told me it wouldn't be a whole lot of concern because I'd be out anyway. "Yeah, you can do whatever you want to me when I'm under," I said. And that statement struck me as odd. They truly could do some goofy things. I wonder if they have a sense of humor. One of my buddies passed out in colleg

Man, they scare the hell out of you before an operation, huh? I suppose its the anesthesia that poses the problem, but I'm heading in to get my knee scoped tomorrow and the papers that I had to sign are all about what the hell happens if something goes wrong. The one form was what should happen in the event of a huge problem. The health proxy even recommended that I check the box that says they will do all they can to save me. I actually could have checked the other box!!! Given the choice, bring me back. Yet my wife also had to sign the form and I figured that she would be a little crazy with such a thought. I asked her to sign in the witness box and she did it quickly. "You sure I chose the right option there?" I asked. "Don't be stupid," she said. Of course, I fully expect to be watching Judge Judy with an ice pack on my leg tomorrow night, but Michael Jackson just thought he was going to catch a little nap too. The difference being, of course, I am not a

Heard the news today that seven state workers will share the $320 million Mega Ball Jackpot. I wonder how they came up with the term 'state workers'...not sure those two words fit together, but I digress. Most of us won't get the winning ticket in our lifetime. We won't see the life-changing money that we dream about. We won't hit the home run to win the World Series. We will never score the game-winning goal in the Olympics. The ship won't come to shore. The train won't roar around the bend to solve our problems. We won't find a bag of cash in small, unmarked bills. Our lives will go on...one unexciting moment after the next until the moment when we suffer through our own death. Are you fired up yet? But as I read the story about the lucky seven, I also considered what that money can buy...and what it can't. Certainly my bathrooms would get bigger. I might even buy my own hot tub so I didn't have to share the water with other old, bald men. We w

The above photo is a shot of my Uncle Lenny and Aunt Carolyn. They were in the hospital this week at the same time. While battling their own separate health issues they were able to share a moment and mug for the camera. One of my cousins posted the photo on Facebook this morning and I gasped when I looked at it. That's what its all about , I thought. And I could almost hear my Aunt's voice in my head as she spoke to my Uncle years and years ago. It wasn't anything specific that I remembered, just her calling out to him. "Leonard." And then I thought of the life that they built. The kids, the grand kids, the great-grand kids. The laughs, the tears, the arguments, the nights together, more laughs. (That's a funny ass family)...and battling through it all together. Married. Joined. Partners in this part of the ride. Holding hands. The past few years have been rough for them as they grow old together. There really should be more of a payoff for a life well-lived.

It's so easy to dwell on the moments in your life that simply devastate you. What's harder is to grasp the importance of the routine excitement that makes you the person that you are. The NCAA Tourney has been a lot of fun for our family. We all filled out our brackets and even drew team names out of a hat. A daily discussion of games starts with the schedule and Sam is the clone of the geek that I've always been. His sheets are scattered all over with a lot of red marks on them. "We should hang this one on the 'fridge," Sam said, pointing to a horrific bracket that I filled out. Last night was to be a special night. Now, of course, I can remember Friday nights where I felt guilty for all sorts of things, but last night the only thing that made me feel remorse was the bowl of peanut butter cup chocolate ice cream that I crumpled a brownie into. After another rough work week and a bout with the stomach flu, I settled in to watch the early games, as Sam chirped

So, Elizabeth Taylor was married a total of eight times. Twice to the same guy, but it still counts as eight, right? Begs a lot of questions: When do you stop giving expensive gifts at her weddings? Did she wear white each time? Did the preacher laugh out loud when he read through the vows? Was the groom looking for the exit door while standing in front of the officiator? I don't know about you, but I would most likely quit something if I failed at it seven times. As a matter of fact, I don't think I'd be breaking back into Shawshank, as Chris Rock said, if it failed to work out on this my maiden trip into holy matrimony. Yet who are we to judge? Larry King can surely sympathize. I don't know what the shortest and longest of her marriages was. I just know that it must have certainly involved a lot of angst, tremendous bouts of passion, and a lot of moving things out of one home to another. One of my main reasons for never wanting a divorce is that I never want to move a

As a kid I spent a lot of time daydreaming. Not enough to where I got into much trouble for it, but I always had plenty of time to let my mind wander and think of scenarios where I'd turn up the hero and get the girl and live happily ever after. Leaving my phone behind yesterday was a good thing on one level. I was able to daydream a bit. Not that I dreamt about being a hero or getting the girl, but just enough time to consider Elizabeth Taylor's death, and wonder about her life. (Why did the media only show her as a beautiful young girl? Where was the shots of the obese, worn-out version?) I also considered the next book story idea and where I could go with that. I imagined the evening at home and planned out my next day's activity. Then, when I got my phone back, I traded emails with a man who is a well-respected educator and I lamented that my kids certainly don't know the satisfaction in developing ideas and making up stories. They have too much at the ready. In the

What a weird feeling. This morning I had to leave by six for a meeting in Rochester some 75 miles away. Still half-asleep and feeling guilty that I didn't take Melky for her morning ride, I hit the Thruway in another freaking snowstorm! Thirty miles into the trip, I realized that I didn't have my cell phone. Do you know that the overwhelming urge was to call someone and let them know I didn't have the phone? Of course, I couldn't do that. Turning around wasn't an option either. So, very carefully, I prepared my obsessed mind to accept the fact and just handle life without the cell phone for the next six hours. It shouldn't have been so difficult, right? We lived without being attached for years. I could return calls later in the day. "It's okay. I can do this." Except I couldn't. I thought about that phone every three minutes for the next four hours. I thought about who was calling, texting and emailing. I wondered if they missed me. The worst

Stray thoughts crossing my warped mind... 1). Read an article yesterday that said that Americans are becoming too fat and that the capacities listed on the bus are going to have to be adjusted to handle the extra girth. What's next? The bus driver stopping you at the door, or asking you to pay for an extra bench. We need to get on an exercise program, people. 2). There is a kid in the NCAA tournament named Jimmer. He can really score and will most likely find his fortune in the NBA. He plays for BYU where they kicked one of the guys off the team for having relations with his girlfriend. Not sure how that fits into the story, but Jimmer is fun to watch play ball. Jimmer's older brother made him sign a IOU to do all the work necessary to make it to the NBA. I was enamored with the story of the two bros. Very cool. I didn't pick BYU in any of my pools, however, so I have to root against him. I didn't say I was a good guy. It's all about me, people, stay with me here.

So, I finally have the knee surgery scheduled. They tell me it won't be all that bad. A 'procedure' they call it. No big deal. It's set for Tuesday. I will be shooting hoops on Wednesday. I'm all for it. I've had enough thinking about it and cringing every single time I life my leg. Over the past few days it's seem to have gotten worse as well, and I have golf to play as soon as our 11-month winter is over. What I really don't know is how long to figure that I should rest afterwards. I need to do something every day. I really don't want to be on the couch watching Bewitched in the middle of the day next week. I'm sure that I'll bounce back quickly. After all I am in supreme condition, years of working out and eating right, paying off big time. I'm certain that a lesser man would need longer time to recover, but I may just jump off the table, shake the docs hand and run the hell out of there. That's what I'm visualizing anyway. Ac

When you think back about World War II there's sort of a nostalgic feeling about the whole thing, right? People in their homes as reports of the war crackled through old worn-out radios. Photos in the paper of soldiers coming home, treated as true heroes, kissing their wives who wore those long dresses for all the world to see. How many countries are we at war with now? It's like filling out the NCAA bracket, isn't it? Iraq...that one still isn't officially over, is it? I know GW declared it finished back around the time Sam was born, but we are still fighting there, right? Afghanistan...making progress there, right? Don't you picture it in your head as a barren land of rock and soot? Libya...we had to make the strike, right because of a complete lack of cooperation? Not sure...a very Republican friend of mine (yes, I have plenty of those) told me that it was because Obama had a beef with Qadafi's father and that is all about the oil. I laughed. But not one bit

My brother loved March Madness. The NCAA college basketball tourney was made for Jeff's competitive juices. He came up with about ten ways for us to bet and it drove me crazy yesterday as the tourney started this year because I wanted to have as much fun as I did in the past... Seen a man standing over a dead dog lying by the highway near a ditch. He's looking down kind of puzzled, poking that dog with a stick. Got his car door flung open, standing out on Highway 31. Like if he stood there long enough, that dog'd get up and run. So we poked the dog with a stick. Jeffy, Millie, Pops, Johnny and Chuckie all came by to choose the teams out of the hat. Sam provided the spark as his enthusiasm for all things betting rivals his uncle. I won the pulling out of the hat pool for the very first time last year. First time Jeff wasn't in it. Coincidence? Now Mary Lou loved Johnny with a love mean and true. She said, 'Baby I'll work for you every day and bring my money home

So, my wife is 26 today. I didn't miss-spell the name of the blog. That's how Sam wishes his family and friends Happy Birthday. Kind of original. The problem that my wife has today is that the NCAA Basketball Tourney is starting today. Since we are all engrossed in the games she is being cheated out of a little attention. To top it off it's also St. Patrick's Day, right...although that doesn't mean corned beef and cabbage around here. Yet despite the fact that the games are on we are all certainly appreciative of the efforts of my beautiful wife. In fact, she made her own dinner today. But I think of the first time that I gave up some of the basketball tourney games and went to have a birthday drink with my wife. I didn't want to go, but she did. So I went. That was 17 years ago. Which that means, by the fact that she is 26 today, that she was only 9 years old. We had a lot of drinks that night. What the hell was she doing drinking so much at that age? Hey, wait

I've needed a new computer for quite some time now. Just the thinking part. My monitor and keyboard and such have been replaced through the years, but the old computer was so freaking sllllllllllooooooowwwwww. Still, I wouldn't do it. No matter how much I wanted to, I wouldn't bite the bullet and buy a new one and its not because I couldn't find a deal, or that I didn't want the comfort of something that runs a little faster. It was because I was dreading the changes. The menus would change. How I clicked the buttons to save the file....all of it. Change, change, change. I hate change. My boys hate change. My freaking dogs hate it too. So, my beautiful wife did it on an impulse. She went out, while I was working and bought a new computer. She seemed hesitant to announce it even. I couldn't exactly grumble about a change that was going to make my life easier, could I? Yet that is the rub of being truly mentally ill. As Kathy worked to hook everything up, I sort o

Yesterday I did make it to the hot tub at the YMCA. There were two other old, balding men in there with me, and we got to talking. (The other two guys can start the story the same way). About Japan, of course. "Man, I'm not complaining about our weather anymore," I said. "Snow and cold is fine with me when you start talking earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, and nuclear meltdowns." The other two guys kind of agreed with me, but then the older of the two gentlemen nearly caused me to disappear into the bubbling water. "I hate those people anyway?" he said. I didn't think I heard him right. "The Japs," he said. "I was in the marines and my brother was too. We hate all them bastards. The Japs, the Chinks, the Koreans. They are all gooks." I felt like I was tubbing with Archie Bunker. In fact, I couldn't even formulate an answer to such a statement and he was looking right at me. "Did I shock you?" he asked. "Sort

Things have been hectic lately at work. A lot of standing in front of people doing presentations. Sleeping in the usual fitful state as if I am fighting someone in that damn bed. So, I decided to take a mental health day. The break in the training schedule told me that this would be a good day to rest up a little, go to the hot tub at the YMCA...a nice long steam...massage if I could get it...finish up stray paperwork on the book and "work" work. I was looking forward to it. Problem was, as you can see from the photo above, my schedule was thrown askew by one simple factor. Kathy was off too. That is what a husband looks like when his wife asks him to take her photo for something or other that she was applying for...I didn't even ask. "Take my picture," she said as I was packing my gym clothes. Photo one...her hair was too messy. Photo two...not a good smile. Photo three...I cut off the top of her head (a lightbulb went off when she said that). Photo four...too

It had to be about 1976. The Sabres were great. Their players were superstars. I was a huge fan of the game, the team, and most especially The French Connection. Rick Martin, Rene Robert and Gilbert Perrault. Perrault was everyone's favorite, but Martin was the best goal scorer on the line. He had the best shot, and the go between the legs of the defenseman deke move. I used to pretend I was Rico when we played hockey in the driveway. Rick Martin died today at the age of 59. While I thought all of the usual things...too young, such a shame, you never know, celebrate the kingdom of your own days...I also thought about the open practice back in 1976. We got into the open practice for free. It was just Mom, John and me. We stayed all through practice with some of our other friends back in North Collins, and when the practice ended we were allowed to get autographs. In a case of 'it would never happen today' the players just stood in the hallway, mingling with the fans. They si

This week I was honored to speak at a great school...North Collins High School. I was asked to address the honor society students, and it was so weird to be back in the auditorium. As I sat in the chair, waiting for the students to join me on the stage as they were honored, I wondered a lot about what I might say. I wanted them to laugh. That was for sure, so I relied heavily on my brother Jeff, telling just one story that was in the book. It had them rolling for sure. I wanted them to think. I told them that life isn't just about making your dreams come true and that life would shatter their heart somewhere along the way, and that the trick was moving forward. Suck it up and tough it out. I wanted them to laugh some more. I told them about raising kids, and falling asleep during Judge Judy. I asked them to be nice to their parents. Of course, I wanted them to continue to chase their dreams in light of their honor. I was proud of each of them. I told them to keep working because th

Man I read through the NFL labor problems last night and I find that I am going to have a real hard time garnering up any sympathy for the downtrodden millionaires who've had to really tighten their belts by holding off on any new car purchases and re-do's on their mansions. I'm serious. One of the player reps was talking about informing the players that expensive jewelery purchases should be really considered at this time of true economic strife. I like football. Like everyone else I spend Sundays watching the games and betting on their outcomes. I honestly couldn't possibly care if they come back at all. There is 9 billion dollars there. Figure it the hell out. Or take some of it and donate it to the poor victims of everything all around the world. Haiti, Japan, hell, freaking New Orleans, or the poor oppressed cities like Detroit, Pittsburgh, Cleveland. Donate some of your bling to the poor bastards who really toil. The same goes for Charlie Sheen. Who the hell isn&#

A review that meant the world to me: Cliff, As an avid reader I read a wide variety of books. My favorite books are generally nonfiction accounts of people who have survived life's struggles and end up stronger and happier in the end. These days I often find it difficult to turn on the evening news to see how horribly people treat each other in the world, our country, and even small towns like North Collins. I had wanted to pick up “Oh Brother” for months, but the thought of reading about the anguish of your beautiful sisters, meatball munching brothers and loving parents wasn't something I was looking forward to. I saw it as another reason to be saddened about this world we live in. Once I opened the cover, I realized I was Wrong with a capital W. It truly is a Celebration of Life. Jeff was put on this earth to help your family love and laugh. He fulfilled his duties and then some. He brought all of us to tears with his crazy antics. You were fortunate enough to be brought to

So poor old Lindsay is going to jail. At least there is that chance, huh? She certainly looks fetching though, doesn't she? Her last few appearances have been wonderful. Better than her movies. And it makes me wonder about her crackpot mother and her goofy freaking father. Are they helping her or just trying to figure out how they can scam a little more money out of her? And where does she go from here? I'm thinking that the Fazzolari's ought to open the door for her. I'm going to see if Kathy will go for the idea of adopting her. We can have her around the house, just looking good, helping with the laundry, that sort of thing. I'm certain that the boys would go for it. Then again, it may be more trouble than what it's worth, right? She'd probably rob us blind, and drink all of the grey goose that I have left from Christmas. Besides a lot of my buddies would be stopping by unannounced to catch a glimpse. Hasn't she been in jail before? Ah well, what a sh

Being a practicing Catholic, Ash Wednesday has always been a huge day. It is the day when ashes are applied to the forehead and then some sort of sacrifice is made in order to garner favor with the Lord our Savior, or to ensure that the groundhog sees his shadow and we have an early spring. I'm not sure, I get it all balled up. Somehow, somewhere I just made somebody cringe with my joke, but it's a joke! I always took the Easter sacrifice as something to be practiced. Not sure what I will give up this year. After all, Charlie Sheen and I have been on the wagon since mid-January so the clean living part has been handled. My Dad used to give up watermelon every year. That's funny. It truly isn't in season right now. Not sure why that joke was always in his Ash Wednesday program, but this is the first year I have failed to hear it. Someone please let me know that you are giving up watermelon this year. Catch me off-guard with it so I laugh, like I did every time Dad said i

I look up to my younger sister. She is one of my idols in this crazy world. Today is also her birthday. Don't ask me how many. To me, she's always just young. Through the last few years, Carrie has been on a real smooth sail through life with all the breaks going her way. Nothing but sunshine and happiness all around. At least that is how she "carries" herself. Despite being bit by a poison snake, she figured out a way to keep the poison out of her life. In the middle of all of the most tragic of life's offerings, she has "carried" herself remarkably well. Whistling through the heartache, swinging the hammer as she works on the dream. You see, I am in awe, because she has always sort of picked up and "carried" the load in the face of adversity all her life. When she was the youngest of six we used to chant her name in a singsong way until she cried. "Car-rie, Car-rie, Car-rie!" It was sort of like Boston fans shouting Straw-berry at D

Weird. Dreams are just plain weird sometimes. This morning the dream that caused my eyes to jut open was fairly vivid. I was standing around a picnic table, loading my cheeseburger from the grill with onions and pickles when the thunder rolled across the sky. "Get in the house before you get struck by lightning," my wife said. Everyone ran in the house but me. I continued to make my way around the table when BAM! wouldn't you freaking know it, I got struck by lightning! My eyes were wide open as a shiver of real fear rushed through my now awake body. "What the hell?" I asked. Melky was snoring beside me. What does it mean? I tell you what it means. It's all about my wife, and her constant warnings about being safe. You see, Kathy, along with her partner in all things scary, my mother-in-law, constantly badgers me and the boys with warnings of utter destruction. "Are you all locked up?" my wife asks my mother-in-law each evening. "No candles, n

A little while ago I wrote a book called In Real Life . It was about a kid, coming to age, who suddenly realized that he'd spent his life shielded from everything, and that when the world came charging at him, it wasn't anything that he could have prepared himself for, because it was all a hoax up to that point. I was in a decent position to write that one then because I felt that way. Now, I am seeing the shock, awe and disbelief in Matt's eyes. You see, Matt had a plan. A great, private college where he would dorm and party and watch the Division I basketball team. Hell he probably even dreamed of being asked to walk on to play, great grades, and upon graduation day a waiting limo to whisk him off to a job where all loans would be immediately paid, and in five or six years, he would be a millionaire. The perfect ten blond, hair, blue-eyed cheerleader would agree to marry him, and together they would immediately start their family. Could happen. In Candyland. Through his y

The rain is coming down, hard and cold. It's battering the window outside my room, and I woke at the usual time - around five - thought about the fact that I could sleep until noon if I wanted to, knowing that I don't have such a capability in my bag of tricks. Thankfully my wife forgot to turn her alarm off and it blared through the house, getting me out of bed for the day. There will be hell to pay later on. I tried to coax the dogs out into the relentless rain, thinking hard about the fact that the day I dread - March 4th - is in the rear view mirror...364 days until I am thrust back into that funk. And sadly, it was a horrific week for me. Too busy, too tired, too sore. Too aggravated to put in the same sort of driven effort of all of the days that are behind me. And I thought of the people that I still have on my side in this battle. I heard from all that I love yesterday...beeps signalling e-mails, Facebook messages and texts, from those wanting to share their love and th

By Bruce, of course We played king of the mountain out on the end the world came charging up the hill and we were women and men. Now there's so much time, time and memory fade away we got our own roads to ride and chances we gotta take. We stood side-by-side, each one fighting for the other we said until we died, we'd always be blood brothers. Now the hardness of this world slowly grinds your dreams away making a fool's joke out of the promises we made And what once seemed black and white turns to so many shades of gray we lose ourselves in work to do, work to do and bills to pay And it's ride, ride, ride and there ain't much cover with no one running by your side, my blood brother. On through the houses of the dead, past those fallen in their tracks always moving ahead, and never looking back. Now I don't know how I feel, I don't know how I feel tonight If I've fallen 'neath the wheel, if I've lost or I've gained sight. I don't even know

Started my day in the MRI tube as I got closer to the long-awaited repair of my knee. In and of itself that aggravates me. If my knee had been hurt in a car accident or at work, they would have given the okay for the MRI in 5 minutes. Since I did it in some other way I had to go to the doctors five times before they'd get the MRI done. Ah well, I decided on Norah Jones to accompany me into the tube. What other kid of music can you pick? Rap? Heavy Metal? Even the Beatles felt like too much. "Really?" the woman asked when I told her I'd rather listen to Norah Jones. "It's seven o'clock in the morning," I said. "Not exactly time for Van Halen." So, into the tube I went. And as much as I didn't want to do it, I traveled back two years in time. I absolutely hate even the mention of March 4th. It should be removed from every calendar. Next week I am making a couple of speeches in promotion of the book Oh Brother! One is to a group of profes

I have been officially over winter since about the middle of November. Now that it has stretched another few months I'm really tired of it. I watched a few innings of the Yankees a couple of days ago. I didn't get to see the stars...they play rarely as they get ready for the season...but I watched the kids anyway. They were wearing the greatest uniforms in all of sports, after all. And so the 27-time World Champion Yankees are getting ready to try for #28. It can't come soon enough. The Baseball magazines are already out. I picked up two of them so far, and not even one writer is giving the Yanks a chance this year. They are talking about the stars getting old and the fact that the Phillies and Red Sux are trying to buy a title. I tell you, those teams are ruining the sport. Anyway, I, as you may have guessed, believe that the Yanks have enough. Their infield is worth more than most countries, and they can still hit. Jeter is going to be ready to prove people wrong. Besides

So I heard a long interview with Charlie Sheen today. He appeared on the Howard Stern Show to tell his side of the story. Man, my head was spinning. First off, Charlie is a likable guy. That is what has made him capable of living his sordid life of debauchery. He is also hard not to root for because he is actually pretty funny. The problem is...he really is a sick man. The entire campaign that he is on now is to clear his name. The more he talks, the sadder it becomes...unless you're Charlie. Currently he is sober. His rehab has gone well because he made up his mind not to do drugs anymore. A lot of people who suffer from addiction find this hard to believe, but Charlie laughs at that...because he believes he has tiger blood and that he is better than all of those who have suffered before him. As for women. He currently lives in the same bedroom with two women. They each have their own bed, and they wait for Charlie to make his decision each night as to who he will grace with his p