Time In a Bottle

It's hard to believe that another week has passed since I posted on this blog.  Believe me, I have been writing, just not here because there are some things that just need to brew in the brain for awhile before being shared.

I feel like chicken tonight, chicken tonight, chicken tonight...  How many people can recall their father dancing around the kitchen clucking and waving his arms like a chicken, singing this song?

I stood beside two very attentive children in church yesterday, holding hands and listening to them recite the Our Father without a hitch, shaking hands during Peace and smiling at all the old ladies who smiled at them.  I heard, "Your kids are so well-behaved" and when the priest touched their hands during communion and said, "May God Bless and Keep You,"  I had to hold back the hiccup of tears.

"I like Kool-Aid all year long!" 
"And I like saving money!"  We did that routine from the time I was eight years old until well after I had children.  Dad didn't miss a beat.

I painted pumpkins with the kids, crossed eyes, big eyebrows, red hearts for the lips and purple ears.  After an hour of adding to each other's pumpkins, my heart melted when I heard Paige say, "This is so much fun Mommy.  It has been a great weekend!" and Tony nodding like she had taken the words right out of his mouth.

"Two women are taking a cruise together, one woman has a lisp.  As they are standing on the deck, they see a man standing by a tri-pod, he puts his head under a black blanket.  The woman with the lisp asks her friend, "Whath thhat man doin?"  And her friend says, "Oh, he's gonna focus," and the woman with the lisp asks, "Boffofus?" Every time I hear the word focus, I hear my dad saying, "Boffufus?".

Tony was in need of a haircut.  The hair around his ears was nearly to his earlobe, and as I tousled his hair I whispered that we would be going for a haircut soon and he said, "If Papa was here he'd say, "Bah, you need a haircut like Papa's, let's go.'"  We got his haircut.  I cried.

"Dad, what song do you want to dance to at my wedding?  Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra?"
"Neither.  I want Jim Croce's If I Could Save Time in a Bottle."
"Really?"
"Really.  I missed a lot of time with my baby girl."
"Okay Dad."

It's been a week of tears and memories, writing and reflection; time spent enjoying the kids, falling back on the love of my family and a deep appreciation for what God has given to me.

If I could save time in a bottle

The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
Till Eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you


If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you


But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them


I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with


If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you


But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

Joy is a Gift

So I just laughed my butt off reading a couple of posts on my brother Cliff's blog:  http://fazzolari23.blogspot.com/ He writes about getting 99 cents in change because he owed the cashier a penny - how he made her count out a handful of pennies and told her to put them by her register so some other unlucky bastard doesn't have a pocketful of change.  A couple of days later he follows with a story of how one wrong turn resulted in an hour and a half session with Canadian customs.  Funny stuff.

The entire time I read them, I thought about my brother Jeff, who up in heaven, must have been cracking up; and then I cried too because I miss that boy like crazy and thought that he probably had something or everything to do with Cliff's aggravation.  He did it when he was alive, why stop now?

Cliff wrote about Jeff and Jeff's joy in a book titled Oh Brother! http://fazzolari23.blogspot.com/2010/09/oh-brother-all-points-bulletin.html  The book is phenomenally written and is written about a phenomenal family and the brother who brought laughter and joy and insight and beauty to everyone he met.  I'd love to have every book club read it; every family share it; every person who is struggling with how to live, read it and live.  Here is the order form: http://fs17.formsite.com/authorfazzolari/form094323136/index.html  All the money made will be going to Jeff's three young children:  Johnny, Farrah and Rocco.

Cliff will be doing signings anywhere and everywhere he can.  Do me a favor and share this post on your facebook page or your own blog;  stock the book in your virtual store; cut and paste into an email and send the news to everyone you know.  It is a book that will bring joy and change lives.  My family is that awesome - and my brothers' are that amazing.

I miss you Jeff.

Geeks and Music and Aggravation

My i-pod pooped the bed for the past few days and so I've been forced to either listen to the radio or fall back on the old ways and pop in a CD.  I spent three days listening to the radio and in a fit of impatience, I lost all control and rifled through my CD pile.  Tracy Chapman, Natalie Merchant and Sara Bareilles made the quick trip from my CD cabinet to the player in my car (which, by the way, records the CDs and features them permanently in the "Jukebox" of the stereo system; the car is smarter than George W.).  The good news is that I listened to Natalie Merchant before I listened to Tracy Chapman.  She (Natalie) got some face time but damn, Tracy Chapman's "At This Point In My Life" ruled the inside of my car for the good two hours that I spent in it intermittenly throughout the day.  And the funny thing is that I've written about this song before because it is simply phenomenal. Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9oIsfrC3msc  or this one that features motivational quotes along with the music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r4mi5AJEX9M&feature=related

The point of this blog wasn't supposed to be about Tracy Chapman, it's about how sucky my computer, i-tunes and my i-pod are.  I nearly threw all of them out on the side walk and had a stomping party this weekend.  How, may I ask, can my version of Windows 7 not be genuine when I bought the computer at Best Buy with it already installed, took the computer to the Geek Squad for a new motherboard and had it returned with an ingenuine version of Windows 7?  I asked that to Geek #1 and got a "Hmmm.  I don't know," and so I asked Geek #2 and he gave me a line of B.S. that was so long, I could've ridden it to Buffalo and back. 
"Just bring it in, we'll fix it." 
"You come here, you broke it." 
"Sorry Ma'am, we don't do that." 
"Don't call me Ma'am, and I'm not paying through the nose to have you fix something you broke." 
"Well, it's our policy to charge a diagnostic fee." 
"You can stick the diagnostic fee in your ear, I already diagnosed the problem." 
"What's that?" 
"You're a bunch of idiots." 
"Oh, well just bring it in, we can waive the fee, Ma'am." 
"I thought you might say that.  And please stop calling me Ma'am." 
"Oh, okay." 

Now I have to lug the PC to a pimply faced kid behind the counter and make the same argument again.  Bastards.

Oh, and Windows 7 is not compatible with i-tunes which is why my i-pod crapped the bed, and I nearly lost all my songs.

Yes, I can hear Chris now:  "Should've got a MAC, you wouldn't have this problem."  Yeah, yeah.  Bite it.

The only thing I can say about all this hardware, software, computer crap is:  At this point in my life, I've come to realize that on this earth, only birds and angels get the wings to fly.  I'm not a bird or an angel, so I have to face the Geeks and try to bite my tongue.  Thank God, I have Tracy in the Jukebox.

Oh, check out this song too: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoNtYC_XDC8  Amazing.

Happy Endings?

Poor Paige lives in the illusion that everything has a happy ending; that the trials of life can be resolved like they are on the movies; that the fear and anger and hurt and pain just disappears after an hour and a half of missteps and deep soul-searching.  I told her it was all a bunch of bullshit, though I didn't use the profanity.

My brother Jim was down this weekend.  Aside from cooking enough food on Sunday to feed the entire United States armed forces, he gave me a copy of the Springsteen concert in Buffalo from last November.  The only song that I haven't heard on a regular basis is Wrecking Ball which the boss wrote for Giants stadium's demise.  It is a pure work of genius - the writing is so intelligent and the message is universal and if I had the words available, I would have read them to Paige as a way of explaining away her illusions about happy endings.

Marriages, new relationships, family relationships, jobs - there is very little that stays the same.  Nothing gold can stay.  Robert Frost wrote it and it is quite clear that Robert Frost did not live in the la-la land of illusion.  The sooner Paige understands this, the sooner she'll succeed in becoming jaded and resentful and angry.  Isn't that where we all end up anyway?

Do I sound pessimistic?  Ah, I'm entitled once in awhile.

Anyway, Wrecking Ball kind of eases the pain of swallowing the bitter pill of life.  It doesn't make the pain go away, it just makes you strong enough to withstand the blows that bring the pain, and maybe, just maybe leaves a little hope for that happy ending.

I was raised out of steel here in the swamps of Jersey, some misty years ago

Through the mud and the beer, and the blood and the cheers, I've seen champions come and go
So if you got the guts mister, yeah if you've got the balls
If you think it's your time, then step to the line, and bring on your wrecking ball
Bring on your wrecking ball
Bring on your wrecking ball
Come on and take your best shot, let me see what you've got
Bring on your wrecking ball
Bring on your wrecking ball
Bring on your wrecking ball
Come on and take your best shot, let me see what you've got
Bring on your wrecking ball


Now my home was here in the Meadowlands, where mosquitoes grow big as airplanes
Here where the blood is spilled, the arena's filled, and Giants play the game
So raise up your glasses and let me hear your voices call


Because tonight all the dead are here, so bring on your wrecking ball

Bring on your wrecking ball
Bring on your wrecking ball
Take your best shot, let me see what you've got
Bring on your wrecking ball


Yeah we know that come tomorrow, none of this will be here
So hold tight on your anger
Hold tight on your anger
Hold tight to your anger, and don't fall to your fear


Now when all this steel and these stories, they drift away to rust
And all our youth and beauty, it's been given to the dust
And your game has been decided, and you're burning the clock down
And all our little victories and glories, have turned into parking lots


When your best hopes and desires, are scattered through the wind
And hard times come, hard times go
Hard times come, hard times go
And hard times come, hard times go
Hard times come, hard times go
Hard times come, hard times go
Yeah just to come again


Bring on your wrecking ball
Bring on your wrecking ball


Come on and take your best shot, let me see what you've got
Bring on your wrecking ball
Bring on your wrecking ball (bring on your wrecking ball)
Bring on your wrecking ball (bring on your wrecking ball)


Take your best shot, let me see what you've got, bring on your wrecking ball

Brave and Excellent

I started a new book by Paulo Coehlo called The Fifth Mountain.  As with all of his books, there is a vein that runs through it that pumps the concept of faith, love and hope through the storyline, and gives me moments of "Huh.  What a great thought."  He's a real simple writer: short sentences, straightforward story, and very little boom by comparison with other novel writers.  He helps me meditate and puts me in a completely different mindset, and I find myself dog-earing the pages so I can go back and think about what he is saying.

What is the point of this little plug for Coehlo, you ask?  I suppose I just wanted to share what makes me tick on any given day, and because of this line in the book:  "...oftentimes a man's fate has nothing to do with what he believes or fears."

The line spoke to me for a reason of which I am going to try to explain.  I'm 38 years old and spent 36 of those years with the idea that if I do good, good will come; if I am kind, I am invincible from all the pain and suffering of this life; that if I seek love - romantic or otherwise - with an optimistic heart, it will come to me tenfold; that if I believe I am protected, I will be protected.

I don't think I believe that stuff anymore.  I cannot control my fate - what happens on any given day around me and inside my world - I can only control how I react to it.  This leads me to another of my favorite concepts in the book.  The main character is speaking to a young boy.  The young boy says, "I'm afraid."  Instead of telling the young boy not to be afraid because it's ridiculous and a waste of time, the elder answers with "That proves that you find joy in living.  It's normal to feel fear at certain moments."

I never thought of fear like that!  It kind of takes this powerful, negative emotion - FEAR - and spins it around, doesn't it?  Jeez, how awesome to think that every time you are afraid you can feel blessed that 1) it's normal and 2) it's only because you find joy in living.  Joy.  So much more powerful than fear, isn't it?

It kind of goes hand in hand with what a friend of mine wrote to me in a sympathy card after my Dad died.  He said "Never forget that you are brave and excellent."  I don't know if I've heard more comforting words in all this time, through all these struggles I have faced.  Brave.  I have been advised to "stay strong", "keep your chin up", "keep the faith", etc. but I have never been told that I am brave.  I feel as though him calling me brave and excellent defines me as a warrior of sorts:  I am standing, shielded, and ready to face whatever fate throws at me, regardless of my beliefs and fears because I find joy in living.  It's all interconnected.  And that is why I have one more piece to share from The Fifth Mountain. Again, the elder is speaking to the young boy.  

"All life's battles teach us something, even those we lose.  When you grow up, you'll discover that you have defended lies, deceived yourself, or suffered for foolishness.  If you're a good warrior, you will not blame yourself for this, but neither will you allow your mistakes to repeat themselves."

I guess being brave allows you to understand this last paragraph because it is so filled with wisdom, and it recognizes humility and honesty with yourself as two very important factors in succeeding through all of life's trials.  It shuns the false bravado and understands that facing the pain, the struggles and the disappointments is what is necessary in order to overcome them and find that joy in living.  You need to be brave.

And excellent.

Kinda like Paulo Coehlo.

Meaningless

It has been one of those weeks where the gospel at Mass on Sunday threads its way into my weekdays.  The basics of the gospel were easy enough:  All the seemingly big stuff that happens on earth is essentially meaningless in heaven and so, Jesus might say to us today, "Don't sweat it, kid.  Just keep the faith. Peace out."

I talked to a friend who is still going through the rigamaroles of her own divorce and she needed advice on a property issue - a neighbor's tree fell into her back yard, making a mess and busting up her fence.  She wanted to know if there was anything she could do besides pay her homeowner's deductible and get it fixed.

"You're outta luck," I told her.

"Ah, I figured.  No biggie, it's just a blip."

It's just a blip. 

On the radio the other day the broadcaster was talking about the daily dramas of life:  dishwasher's busted, dog crapped on the carpet, insurance rates when up, a tire blew making you late for work - whatever the drama might be - and he said, "99.9% of everything that happens on any given day is meaningless."

I went through the week listening to the voice in my head that worried about the money I was spending on new sneakers and jeans for the kids because they've grown like wildflowers (out of nowhere and tall) in the past couple weeks, and I kept reminding myself that it was meaningless worry.  I also listened to friends complain about work, home, their cars and their futures.  Meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

And so yes, I have to agree with the broadcaster.

To a point.

Yesterday, I watched Tony pick up a blanket from the sofa and cover a sleeping friend of mine (who by the way, goes by the name of Jason, and is increasingly present in my life), and how it was just natural for Tony to be that thoughtful.  That's not meaningless.  And at one point yesterday, I laughed out of nowhere - a strong belly laugh that left me breathless, giggly and surprised.  Not meaningless at all.

Paige asked me the other day why I like to teach.  I haven't taught in over two years but for some reason, she brought it up out of the blue.  And all she said was, "I bet you're good at teaching."  I said, "Thanks Paige, I think I'm pretty good at it."  And she said, "You're good at everything."  Of course I cried a little.  It's nice to hear that once in awhile.  Meaningless?  Highly doubtful.  She got me thinking and I truly believe that she spoke a message I was meant to hear from someone else.

Maybe I'm putting too much into thinking about life.  Maybe the don't sweat it, kid stuff is all a bunch of hyperbole that is supposed to get us from one moment to the next without cracking.

Obviously, I don't believe a word of that.  There are very few things I am sure of on any given day.   I am sure of how it feels to love fully, I am sure of how my heart skips when I laugh hard, I am sure that God exists and I am sure that angels sometimes step into the shoes of strangers or friends and give love.  I am sure that life itself is not meaningless at all. 

Though, I suppose it all depends on how you define life itself. If it's about your water bill or the weeds in your front garden, or the dust in your wallet, or even the next step into your future then it is time to get a new dictionary because that ain't life - that's meaningless drivel.

Give love. Show love. Be love. Life.

Peace out.

Stick It, Skivvy

So much for the cool, crisp days of fall where the sky is a hundred shades of pink and the breeze blows across your skin like a soft sweater, and the sun shines bright across blue skies. 

This weather blows.  Period.  Cold, dark, rainy and incessant.  I often describe it as the devil's carnival (but then I think that giving the devil, hereinafter referred to as Skivvy, any kind of acknowledgement in any scenario is just plain stupid) because it puts people in dark moods, swearing at other drivers on the road, snapping at loved ones, and shortening patience all around.  I think about the guys that have to drive down the road picking up garbage cans and recycle bins, dump them, replace them at the side of the road, hop on the back and do it again and again, every ten feet or so for a full day. I think about how aggravating it is for me to even consider the fact that I have to, at some point, collect those cans, tip them over to get rid of all the water and drag them back up the road and driveway and put them in my garage until next time.  I curse this weather, and Skivvy loves that.

Skivvy can stick it. I'm going to find something positive in all of this, despite the wet feet, the cold-bone chill, the slippery roads, the cranky people, the tired eyes, the stuffed sinuses, the frizzy hair. There has to be something.

Last week, the rain was pouring.  I was on my way to lunch with a bunch of old co-workers.  After taking a shower and getting dressed, making up my face, I let my hair go.  I keep it wet in this weather and just let it dry naturally.  What's the point of blow-drying it?  So I left the house with wet ringlets and was on my way.  At the first turn, after leaving my house, I saw an old man - mid-eighties - pushing his car from an intersection.  He was huffing and puffing, holding up traffic and struggling to get a piece of crap car across a busy road. 

"Bah!"  I said as I looked around at all the warm people in their warm trucks.  I put my hazards on, parked on the side of the road and ran to help the man.  I caught eyes with a young guy in a pick-up who was sitting two cars behind the guy, watching and waiting for the old man to push the car alone.  I looked at him, raised my hands at him as if to say, "What the ??" and began pushing with the old man.  As soon as my hands touched the back of the car, it moved.  It was easy.  The rain was pouring, the roads were puddles but the physical labor was easy.   After we got it on the side of the road, I turned and saw the guy from the pick-up running toward us to help.  "Too late now, dude..."  I wanted to say it, scream that an eighty year old man compels a thirty year old man to get off his lazy ass and help, but I didn't say anything.  The old man hugged me and told me I was an angel.  And for a second, I felt like one.

Despite my awesome boots getting soaked, the hem of my pants dripping, my suit coat drenched and a whole lot of frizz on top of my head, I felt good inside.  An older woman, late seventies, pulled up beside me and said, "I would have helped but I have a bad hip..."  She must have seen the judgment in my eyes when I looked at the young guy.  I said, "No, you are all dressed up and you shouldn't have anything to do with that kind of stuff..."  She smiled and wished me a good day.  After that, it was a good day.

Skivvy can't stop that kind of stuff.  He can't stop it.  Ha!  The only thing Skivvy can do is love the rain and dreariness of Mother Nature (he certainly doesn't have the power to produce it) and hope that people give in to their emotions and moods of these dreary days, and then, like a lazy animal, find enjoyment in those sufferings.  I am sure he was giggling as the old man stepped out of his car to push it across the road.  Yet I like to think that he was so damn mad when he saw me get out of my truck to help.  That, in itself, is worth getting soaked day after day after day...  stick it Skivvy, you can't win.

So, on days like today when the weather is driving you mad, think about the old man pushing his car in the rain.  Things could be worse.  When you seen an ambulance with flashing lights racing by, say a prayer.  If the street light is out and an officer is directing traffic, find patience and endure.  If your boots get soaked and your skin is stone cold, so what, it's just water.  The sun will shine again, and Skivvy will hate that.

Lord knows what a good hard rain can do for a soul...