Thoughts of a Common Man

Anywhoha... It's been awhile since we touched base. 1). Got a text from a friend of mine when the Marriage Act was altered with the Supreme Court vote. I mentioned that it would not change how I viewed my sexual appetites and that I wasn't arrogant enough to believe that I should be commenting on who another person appears to love. That is a helluva' hot button item though, isn't it? I don't much get it. Discrimination against humans based on how you feel is a tad arrogant, right? 2). The Aaron Hernandez thing really does blow my mind. Now they are thinking he may have known something or had something to do with a double murder from the year before?? This isn't much about football. It's pure, simple evil and if any or all of it is true he's certainly a messed up kid. I hope and pray that he doesn't wiggle free if he is indeed responsible. Because I know people will cheer him again if he does step back on the field. See Ray Lewis - they'r

You can't stay clear of the Paula Deen story, can you? Supposedly she uttered the magic n-word once in her life, and she admitted it during a deposition. She was fired. She has been skewered in the media. I've listened to her cry and apologize and absolutely butcher the old Popeye theme. "I is what I is," she said. Bad grammar aside I'm not quite sure if what she did was all that offensive. Once in her life she uttered something racist? I'm not sure how many people could lay claim to the fact that they have never said something that might be considered ridiculous when we think of it in rational terms. Have you ever been so angry or so upset that you've said something that you didn't mean? Of course you have. Have you ever called someone something so offensive that you wonder about your own sanity when it was repeated to you? I swear to God one of the funniest shows I've ever seen was a half-hour show by the comedian Louis C.K.

The New England Patriots cut Aaron Hernandez on Wednesday. They didn't wait for the murder charges to be levied. They didn't stand by him at the press conference and tell the world that he's innocent until proven guilty. They didn't make mention of how they would reserve judgement until all the information was in. They dumped his sorry ass. And I suppose that I'm supposed to be politically correct, and here in Buffalo I'm supposed to hate the Patriots, but I really don't. I like that they treat their millionaire stars like they do. How can you preach team concept when someone on the team is upsetting the balance? A bunch of years ago they had a player, Lawyer Milloy who held out in an effort to renegotiate his contract. Milloy was a Pro-Bowl player. He believed he deserved a raise over the pay that he had originally agreed to receive. So he marched in the office and made his demands. They cut him. I loved the story. Right up until the B

The kidnapped, handicapped, claiming that he caught the clap. I'm not quite sure that Bruce line was rattling around my brain as I walked the streets of New York but it was. There was every sort of person on the streets. The street fair stretched from 32nd street all the way to 42nd street. Just person after person after person. White, black, Asian, Indian, Iranian, Hispanic. Tall people, short people, skinny people, fat people. Ugly people, beautiful people. We were all hot. We were all tired. We all just kept moving. The smells were wide and varied too. The aroma of food from the carts. The odor of urine, and puke, and whatever else you can imagine. People on bikes. People skating. Horses. Sirens. And the car horns. Just blaring. And there was the not-famous guy from North Collins in the middle of it all. Just thinking of love and people and loss and love and the madness that can get you, and love, and loss. And Food! We all can cook. I'

June 22, 2013 - 02:30 p.m. "I'm not quite sure you know how funny you are," the filmmaker standing in the ballroom said to me as I exited the stage after being a part of the panel discussion about writing on your life. "I was the quiet one in the Fazzolari family," I said. The man howled. "I'm serious," I said. "I told a few Jeff stories up there, but if I told you stories about Corinne, John, Jim, or Carrie you'd be pissing yourself too. And forget about my Mom and Dad!" The man wanted my contact information. "The Fuzzy's!" He howled. "There should be a movie!" "There should be," I said. But truth be known, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. The photo above shows a good friend, Dr. Neal Hall, the Philadelphia-based doctor who'd also won a number of awards. The good Doc is brilliant, funny, and more brilliant. He also thinks I'm funny. And I had two goals as a

Saturday Morning - June 22, 2103 - 9:23 a.m. You're a long ways from North Collins. My publisher had once said that to me as I signed books in New York with Henry Winkler on my right and Gene Hackman on my left. "No I'm not," I had said. "I never will be." She'd thought I was crazy. I thought of that as I battled the mass of people in the terminal at JFK. I thought of yelling out Fluffy's question again: Don't you people have homes to go to? Instead I just kept walking towards ground transportation. I texted Kathy my usual 'plane landed' type of text: No insurance money. We're on the ground. Once more I thought of it all. The bigger picture. We'd all go one day. Every single person in this terminal. Terminal Don't be whiny. Get busy living. I headed towards the front door and a man came rushing towards me. "Where you going?" he asked in broken English. He wasn't wearing a uniform.

If you aren't getting busy living, you're getting busy dying. I spent part of the week thinking about the Bob Dylan original thought and despite the fact that I wasn't sleeping in the same bed on consecutive nights I knew that I had to unpack from Syracuse and immediately put a bag together for New York City so I could stand in front of an audience and announce Jeff's birthday. The book was being honored again. It's not my honor. It's our honor. All of ours. My siblings, my parents, my friends, my readers. The least I can do is show up. So we will begin this little ditty at 8 pm on Friday night: June 21, 2013 - 8 p.m. "I'm dressing casual," I said. "No matter what you wear it's casual," my beautiful wife answered. She was at the computer checking me in for the early morning flight. She was giving great consideration on how I'd get from JFK to the event near Times Square. "Remember when you paid a guy $50 to

I read an article the other day. It seems that kids have a new hobby these days. They snort condoms on video and then stick it on YouTube. Yep. Are you freaking kidding me? I clicked on the video so I could watch this brain-dead thing being done. The kid in the video looked to be about 16. He smiled wide as he made a grand gesture of opening up the condom. (I was slightly relieved that it was a fresh condom). He plugged one side of his nose and just as the article stated, he snorted the condom in his other nostril and as you might have guessed it didn't go real well. He snorted, coughed, and did his best to get the condom out of his nose and through his mouth. What the F%&K would make you do such a thing? The kids aren't getting famous pulling off this little feat because they are all doing it evidently. I wondered about my own kids and whether or not they'd be stupid enough to try such a trick. "What do you know about snorting condoms?&qu

The other night I dreamed of my Dad. I heard his voice. I saw his face. He was right there. The dream is actually sort of comical too because he was pissed at somebody and he got in the car and squealed the tires as he yelled: "I'll fix that son-of-a-bitch!" I told you it was lifelike. And still in the dream, moments later, he came driving back, followed by a cop who had the sirens blaring. I woke up then. Scared that something bad was gonna' happen to Dad. I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom (a nightly ritual). I tapped the photo of my Dad that is above the light switch in my bedroom. It's a photo that a good friend gave me that says: Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a Dad. It was 2:30 in the morning. "Damn, I miss him," echoed in my mind. And three hours later I was up and out to start my day. I headed to let the dogs out and stopped by the photo of Jeff that is hanging in the basement. As I d

I'm heading to New York on Saturday. It's June 22nd. Should've been Jeff's birthday. So I'm heading to New York and I'll appear on a panel as an honoree to talk about Oh Brother! The Life & Times of Jeff Fazzolari. And I'm going to make it funny. I'm not quite sure why this trip is so important to me. I've been to other cities to talk about the books. Jeff's book has made itself quite a name at ten out of ten festivals. But there's something about New York. My plan is to head in and make the appearance and then find a place to have a big Italian meal and perhaps a couple of shots of grappa. And then I'm going to get on the plane and come right home. It's Jeff's birthday. I'm gonna' spend it talking to total strangers about him. I can almost hear his voice whispering in my ear. "You better make those bastards laugh." I will. I promise.

There wasn't a better television show than The Sopranos . I've never been so invested in the lives of a group of people. I most likely never will be again. And it all started and ended with the actor who played Tony Soprano. James Gandolfini was made to play that role. He had the mannerisms down, the attitude, the voice. Damn, it was a voice that I heard all of my life. My grandpa had that voice. My uncles had that voice. My Dad had that voice for sure. The title of this blog is something that Tony Soprano said on the show and was isolated and is replayed on the Howard Stern Show almost every morning. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? Close your eyes and listen to Gandolfini say it. Damn! And 51 years old? There won't be a Soprano's movie. His wife is a widow. His kids are missing their Dad. None of us are going to make it out alive. The money you make doesn't matter. How great the show was doesn't matter. How much

It's weird when you think back on it. This has been a nice week in Fazzolari land as Jeff's kids came up for a surprise visit. They are beautiful, happy children with the Fuzzy look and spirit and wide smiles. The grace that they bring just blows through our lives and brings back a world full of wonderful memories. Rocco is always smiling. He reminds me so much of when Jeff was a child that I can't help but think that he has wonderful days of pure craziness ahead. And they all look at us so lovingly. I know that my siblings feel it. Just so alive. So wonderfully alive. And I took to asking them about their school. When someone mentioned the first grade I told the story of being beat with a ping-pong paddle by the nuns. Isn't that awful? That's what I remembered. And beautiful Farrah is heading to the fourth grade. "I was caught by a ring in the 4th grade," I said. "I was talking to Joe Mathis and his eyes got real big. I turned aro

A week or so ago someone posted a photo of their new baby. "Isn't she the cutest baby ever?" I've never really enjoyed looking at shots of babies. Especially newborns. It's like looking at the potato chips in the bag. They look the same. And a strange thing happens to me when I see babies. My skin crawls a little bit. You see, I'm not the handiest of fellows. I can't screw in a light bulb without feeling ultimately surprised when I try the light afterwards and it actually works. Back in high school I scored dead last in mechanical aptitude. Even behind every single girl in our class. It probably wasn't real close. So when the kids arrived way back when I was nervous to hold them. I could only consider that I'd drop 'em. "You wanna' hold the baby?" Kathy would ask. "Nope." And you know what was worse? Caring for them. I often think of the very first time that I was being thoughtful as a Dad. Ja

Recently I finished reading East of Eden by Steinbeck again. It's good to read it every five or ten years to gain a new perspective. Of course, the two words that hammer it home time and again are still there: Thou Mayest. It's the Steinbeck equivalent of 'It's no sin to be glad you're alive.' Thou Mayest live a wonderful life. Thou Mayest find love. Thou Mayest share that love without regard to selfishness. Yet what also is continually hammered home is the idea that there is a delicate balance between good and evil. We all know this one. We all carry the seeds of our own destruction. The things that tear us down are the same things that make us feel so alive. Think drinking, or sex-addiction, or drugs, or gambling, or being reckless, or being petty or mean. We all know the great sins. We all work to avoid them. But the original sin was that the seeds of destruction could not be ignored all those years ago in the Garden of Eden as

You know I have always said that the Rod Stewart song, Forever Young , is the most beautiful song written for a Dad to his children. Well. Rod Stewart has a new song. On his new record. This is Pure Love . As I was thinking about my kids and what it means to be a Dad I heard this again. My heart swelled. He's got it right again. Pure Love - Rod Stewart If an old friend lets you down And a true love can't be found Till the blue skies come around I'll be right by your side Journey far and travel safe Make this world a better place And keep that smile upon your face I'll be right by your side There may be oceans in between us now But I think about you every minute now No don't forget me now that we're apart Just open up that great big loving heart And you'll always be You'll always be You'll always be a part ... of me... Take your time to embrace romance Teach your children how to sing and dance Love may hurt but i

I guess that people are gonna' know when I leave this great planet. There won't be a blog posted. Well, that won't be today. I'm here! So many others comfortable with the schedule I've set, and I'm grateful for reading along! But I have been falling a bit behind lately. It's funny, but this morning I took the dogs for their ride and I stopped by the coffeemaker for my coffee and took 3 steps, and the dogs bounded up the stairs to settle down in my office. "It's pretty bad when they know the schedule in my mind," I said. "Yeah, you're not that hard to figure out," my beautiful wife answered. So here we are. Do you know that I spent a full day with my shirt inside out? Yep. Saw it at the end of the day. After visiting about 20 or 30 people. I wonder how many of them thought: "Look at that dumb f&*k." And life is certainly like that from time-to-time. We have those busy moments of absolut

Scanning through Facebook I saw that someone - an old friend - had posted: "Why does life offer so many challenges? What is the meaning of it all?" Well. That's a mouthful, huh? First off, I felt bad for the guy. Obviously the newest challenge in all of it has him a bit down in the mouth. Secondly, how the hell is that question answerable? Isn't it the question that we ask Siri, would ask Ghandi, and might even ask Springsteen if we had the chance to meet him? I often think about what Jeff told me just days before he was stolen from all of us: "Why don't you enjoy your life instead of trying to understand it?" When I was writing the book I was certainly intent on doing a lot more celebrating and a lot less thinking about things, but I'm not quite built that way. Some of the questions about how people live helps me to celebrate life. I sort of like trying to figure out behavior. I spend a lot of time reading the comment sections

Back a few years ago, Jake used to do a thing where he'd put his arm around you and say: "This is the guy I was telling you about:" And then he'd tell you a story. Jake is my funniest kid. It's not even close. He has the Fuzzy knack of ripping you apart while you laugh with him. Because he's not mean-spirited. Of course that's not to say that he can't be a challenge. He's strong-willed. He's loyal. He's my beautiful wife's number one nemesis. And we love the hell out of him. Every day. And we are proud of his efforts. Happy 16th birthday. This is the guy I was telling you about: He's a great guy.

Remember when we all laughed at Maxwell Smart and his telephone shoe? There has always been something interesting about being a spy, or spying on someone else. That's what makes the NSA story so exciting to everyone, I guess. Yet what gets me about it is how scandalous it appears on the surface. Just another example of Obama turning the constitution on its ear as he works to turn the United Sates of American into a Muslim country. Right? Whatever. It doesn't matter that the policy of monitoring telephone and other activities was started B.O. (Before Obama). Why let the facts get in the way? Yet the interesting part to me is that people are actually worried about it. Check all my crap. The daily blog, the Facebook rants, the Twitter remarks. I don't care. If it stops a terrorist attack we'll all cheer, right? And I don't think they're gonna' monitor any of us too long.How long do you think they'd monitor my nonsensical ravings? W

There are a lot of things to worry about on any given day, aren't there? What are the sorts of things do you worry about on a routine basis? The health or behavior of others? You can't control that. The outcome of the next big game? Think of how many big games you've watched. Sometimes your team wins..if you're a Yankee fan...other times, most other times, in fact, your team loses, SEE Bills and Sabres. You can't control that either. So why worry about that stuff? A lot of times worry is centered on what is going on at work. Quick, tell me what big case you were working on last year at this time. Things have a way of getting done. Either way, it'll go away before long. I haven't worried about losing my job in a long time. Show up and put forh the effort. Nothing to worry about there. Do you worry about your own death? Well, that's gonna' happen some day, some way. I was thinking a lot about those storm chasers who lost

So went to a wedding of one of my oldest friends. He's a happy man. This is his 2nd marriage, and he is ready to roll into another new exciting part of life. Good for him. He can have it. During the wedding vows, I whispered to my beautiful wife: "Can you imagine actually going through marriage again? I'd rather hang myself from a low-hanging beam." For an unknown reason my wife seemed to take my comment wrong. "Oh come on," she said. Yet it was way less about her but about the energy that is needed to put that much time and effort into something new. And as per usual I had to get up in front of the gathering to do a reading about love and say a few words. I guess what I said was funny, but I sort of didn't even mean to do it: "Tom is one of my oldest friends. I've known him for about 40 years. And Brenna, well...good luck." The gathering laughed. I'd really just meant to say 'good luck', but with marriage,

There's a moment when a man, hopefully, makes a decision to forge ahead, picking up the rock that his father had been carrying for years and years. I remember hearing this song for the first time. I was on a drive on Route 19 heading towards Ithaca. The words hit me hard. Your Life is Now Your Life is Now by John Mellencamp See the moon roll across the stars See the seasons turn like a heart Your father's days are lost to you This is your time here to do what you will do Your life is now your life is now your life is now In this undiscovered moment Lift your head up above the crowd We could shake this world If you would only show us how Your life is now Would you teach your children to tell the truth Would you take the high road if you could choose Do you believe you're a victim of a great compromise 'Cause I believe you could change your mind and change our lives In this undiscovered moment Lift your head up above the crowd We could shake this

I get to a lot of places for my job. One day I got to spend the afternoon in the Baseball Hall of Fame by myself as it was closed except for the construction work. Friday was almost as cool. I took a call late Thursday to meet one of my clients at the base of The Falls as they are doing some work at Goat Island. I never found the crew. Part of it was because I was suddenly amazed by what I was seeing. Of course I'd been to the Falls a number of times. It's only 20 miles or so from the house, but being that I've been absolutely consumed by work lately, the trip was different on Friday. As I moved along the river towards the Falls I was struck by the surging water. Go figure. I'd forgotten how awesome it is. There were tour groups all along the rail near the Horseshoe Falls and most of them were Asian. They were all laughing and talking and mugging for the camera. The Maid of the Mist was cruising slowly and a few people hung out in the mist letting it

I'm trying to figure out a way to broach the subject of Michael Douglas and his recent battle with throat cancer. Have you heard how he thinks he got it? Smoking? Nope. Drinking? Uh, nope. An industrial accident of some sort? Negative. In a recent interview he opened up about the true nature of the problem. HPV from the hazardous place he put his mouth and tongue. I immediately thought of his poor wife, Catherine Zeta-Jones. How can anyone not wonder if she is diseased in some manner? Is that really a cause of cancer? What will this do to the future of man-woman relations? Without digging too far into the subject what caught me by surprise by this announcement was that Douglas would come out and say such a thing in public. Isn't he sort of a well-respected actor? Why would he open himself up to such ridicule? Why would he make his wife or the women in his life answer such questions? I'm troubled. There are, I guess, a lot of ways to get

On Sunday we visited a different church as Mass was said for Uncle Jim. It's a very nice church with the seats sort of in the round so you get a true sense of community. The place is well-lit, the sound from the altar is good, and the choir was in fine form. A young girl was seated a couple of rows ahead of us. The kid couldn't have been more than two. "Can you imagine having a kid that age?" I whispered. "She's so cute," Kathy said. I've always rather enjoyed the community of it all. My beautiful wife, on the other hand, is of less of a mind to look around in a sense of wonder. Her A.D.D. seems to kick in a bit. "They changed the words," she whispered. The old automatic responses didn't work to some of the prayers. "Two years ago," I whispered back. We traded glances with our aunts and cousins. Smiles and nods and near-tears all around. As the Our Father started I sort of grimaced as they changed it to so

The last few weeks I've sort of been in an impossible situation at work. The department lost 50% of the work force and just before the reduction there were clients added and in the middle of it there was a cortisone shot that sent me wobbling. You can check the books, but we didn't miss a single appointment over the course of three weeks. There were days when I returned home not knowing where or how I'd visited so many places. Just one after another. 80 or 90 pages of reports going out the door. A day. "You're enjoying it," my beautiful wife said to me over the anniversary dinner on the day that wasn't really our anniversary. "It's an impossible situation and you're happier doing it then waiting for someone to help." And there's a lot of truth in that. When it's too tough, it's fun to give it a go. And it's not like I don't want the help, it's just easier to do it myself than hear the 101 reasons wh

I give a lot of my friends and family a really hard time about being fans of the Bills and Sabres. I do it because they really, really tie their emotions to it and I sort of like being on the other side of any issue. I'm sure that I've infuriated a whole bunch of people. I thrive on that. Yet I've always been a tremendous fan of all the sports. I watch the Bills and the Sabres still. I know of all of their moves. I get frustrated with their lack of direction because it shouldn't take 20 years to rebuild anything. But where I get really misty about all of it is when I think of the Bills in the early 90's. They went to, and lost 4 straight Super Bowls. There certainly is some angst involved, but a lot of pride too, and one of the things that really fired me up back then was when someone picked on Jim Kelly. He was great. Hall-of-Famer. He doesn't need me to defend his play. Yet Kelly and Mattingly retired the same year. I remember thinking that my

W ell, it turns out that our wedding anniversary is a day later than either my beautiful, dopey wife, or I thought. We celebrated it with dinner on the 30th and then were alerted by my brilliant sister, Corinne, that it was, in fact, the 31st of May when we were married. Unreal. Well, the anniversary talk got me thinking about what a nightmare it would be if I were actually back out there dating. I remember once asking my brother, Jim, how I looked before we headed into a wedding mass. "Are you thinking of attracting something?" he asked. Be forewarned - this isn't my usual tasteful, heart-warming stuff, and they are not meant to demean. Just a few old, funny pick-up lines from way, way back. I'm sure the savage cavemen were mumbling them to the fair women all the way back then. Here are the best of the best in rude, sarcastic...even mean pickup lines. I hope you find a favorite. If I flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head? Do you work at Subwa

Happy June the 2. Miss Him. He's smiling at us. I know he is. I'll have a bit of pasta to celebrate. And a pork chop.

That's not Yankee Stadium. It's Citi-Freaking-Field or something like that. Like all the rest of the money hungry lesser franchises, the Mets sold the naming rights. But I am putting the shot of the field up for the few dorky bastard Mets fans that I know. 'Cause the Mets won 4 straight against the 27-Time World Champion Greatest Franchise in the History of Organized Sports. And while it isn't much of a big deal, I can take it. So I'm setting up a tribute to those goofy people who call the Mets their team. Couple of numbers for you though: 1986. It was a long time ago. Yankee titles since then? Only 5. Including 2000. When they whipped the hapless Mets in one of the most boring World Series in the history of the game. 'Cause the Mets sucked. I could bring all of that up and toss it into the mix, but I'm the bigger man. I will stay quiet about that. I won't even mention the fact that the Yankees have a dozen more wins on the ye

The dogs and I drove by the Toys R Us store just around the corner from our house. I'd just finished reading the recap of the stabbing murder there from just a day previous. The cops don't have many clues. And it's different when it's less than a mile away, right? It's actually one of the greatest mysteries of my life. How one person can kill another. I am fascinated by all of it. The level of rage required. The feelings of guilt in the aftermath. The hate required. The mental deficiency of it all. We watch a lot of true crime around our house. The usual husband-wife sort of thing. I read true crime novels from time-to-time. All of it just mind-boggling to me. And they always do the time line. Saying that the perp had time to kill someone and then get in their car and go to their kid's piano recital or something. And I wonder. Wasn't the guy sweating a little? Did he just shake hands with the guy next to him, knowing what he did? They say