A Handsome Prince, The Love of the Lyons and Beautiful Queen Misty!

At midnight, my son Scott turned 16. I call him Bro, he calls me Da. He has a father named Bill and a Da named Tommy. I am very proud of him. That sentence is really pretty stupid! It's like saying a rainbow is pretty. My son is funny, good to his mom and sisters, respectful and a laundry list of the things that make a man a good man. Happy Birthday Bro. I love you. One of the most humbling and gratifying moments of my early sobriety was on my first 
anniversary when my SON took me to the side and said he was proud of me. The world says that speech is supposed to go the other way around, but I'll take it.

Lately, my passion has been reduced to a pilot light, due to life and the things life does to all of us. All along I have stated that there are no coincidences, as far as I'm concerned. We are all a part of a grand chess match that the great creator plays out daily in our lives using events and people to create our next move in the game. My passion was rekindled today.
I've always said that if I help one person avoid or get through the agony of self destruction, self abuse and self hate I went through for 20 plus years, it wasn't a life lived in vain. Today I found out it wasn't lived in vain. One down and I hope many more to go. A friend reached out to me in a message saying I gave her strength through my honesty. She gave me passion to write again and tears of joy flowed with inspiration from hearing her story. Don't you see the chess game? God moved her pawn in front of my rook today just when I needed it. I cried. It felt good letting off some of the steam of being me. She gave me permission to share this story. It is true but not told in her words.

In Mokena there were jocks, rockers and geeks. I was all three because I had 3 parties to go to, but was kind of a straight. Kerry Lyons was a rocker. We were friends. I remember her most starting freshman year of high school. She had great teeth, an amazing smile and a quick sense of humor. We didn't hang out but were always comfortable together when we were around each other. I know I hit on her because she was a "fox" in 80's lingo, but she just laughed at me. I pretty much hit on the whole town of Mokena that was female! She was always in a great mood and I really liked her, like a friend.

After high school Kerry got a job in the family business and got a party pad with Kim Martin, another old Mokena friend, and life was starting out pretty good. The work was steady, she was with the family. It was party hearty on the weekend. I was away at college getting arrested and doing LSD thinking I was going to write the next Tolkien series. Soon Kerry met prince charming. He was handsome, well respected, had a great gig and it seemed like they were on the road to the "American Dream." By now Kerry had begun working with kids with disabilities and other mental challenges. Between the two of them they were doing life right.

They bought a cottage in Wisconsin, so it was work, work, work all week and then shoot up to the summer digs in cheese land on the weekends. A little booze and beer, some weed, nothing too crazy. Then it was back to work 
Monday to start all over again. The marriage was great. They had friendship, love, comfort and it seemed like God had dealt them straight aces. But it's not cards, it's chess remember?

On a weekend, 8 days before their 2nd wedding anniversary, Kerry's husband was killed on the way home from the Wisconsin summer home. She had decided to stay home and do laundry. God changed the game for both of them and one more forever that weekend, not counting the many more lives he had touched.

More than 2000 people attended Kerry's husband's funeral. Hundreds of motorcycles and police escorted him to his final resting place, a reflection of what a truly respected and decent man he was to those who knew him or knew of him. Family, friends and loved ones comforted Kerry for a month, then came the crushing sound of silence and isolation. Being a hard working responsible man, her husband left behind a tidy sum of money to keep Kerry going. It wasn't long before she was REALLY going! Anyone who has been drunk does it for the instant relaxation, the freedom from fear and the escape from reality. In a healthy environment and clear state of mind, that is a fun and a common release. In a time of guilt, loss, emptiness and self-loathing it can set up a time bomb.

Soon Ms. K was downing a fifth of brandy a day to even out the copious amounts of cocaine that fueled the nightly parties. Big payouts bring out the zombies and hangers-on that stay around as long as there is a party, some booze, or dope or money to keep things going. When those things go, so do they. Kerry was spinning out of control and didn't know where to turn. She spent her nights trying to get high enough to finish the job permanently and join her prince and dreading the mornings waking up to see that she hadn't completed her mission. She had faith in God, but with the loss of her husband, the questions of why were pounding in her mind and soul.

Kerry continued to party, but less so, and some friends who were involved in Easter Seals introduced her to a young princess named Misty. She visited the fair princess who was the product of the fostering system on a few occasions. She was still hurting but drawn to this beautiful girl who suffered from serious learning and physical disabilities. Why did she keep going to see her? She couldn't answer the question herself. God was moving in for check mate.

After several visits Kerry decided to take the beautiful Princess Misty home with her. She was still struggling with her own demons. Misty was 2. Her mother gave birth to her drunk and high on angel dust. She was an IV Heroin user. Sweet Misty was born a Junkie. While Misty struggled with her new life, and physical and special needs learning challenges, Kerry began to see things differently in the chess game God laid before her. One night, while the now Queen Misty slept, Kerry questioned her ability as a mother, but knew she would not be an addict like Misty's birth mother. In recovery we call this a "spiritual experience."

Kerry weened off the poisons she was killing herself with an inch at a time, WITH THE HELP OF A FRIEND. She reached out for help and it was there. She worked it a day at a time as both mother and sober person. Queen Misty was soon reevaluated as "normal" and moved to regular classes. She went from the short bus to the long one. Kerry began to work with others in need of help in recovery and assist with special needs children. The love of this mother Lyons was fierce in her pride.

Through the love of a kind, patient, sober mother and gracious God and a fearless hard working daughter, Queen Misty graduated Valedictorian of her grammar school, graduated from Providence Catholic in New Lenox and now attends Illinois State University. She is studying to be a speech pathologist. The death of Kerry's husband is impossible for me to comprehend. To endure that and then turn around and take on the responsibilities of motherhood are mind blowing. She could have fallen apart and given into addiction and just melted into nothingness. She could have just shuffled through life in a fog. But she didn't. She jumped back in and did so with two feet and fists flying. She saved a child and a child saved her. Throw in the fact that the child was severely challenged, mentally and physically, seems like a storybook.

The happy ending to this story is not a fairy tale. It all came true and Queen Misty is passing on more of God's grace to those in need through her career choice in speech pathology. I cried when Kerry told me this story today. I am proud to call her my friend. I hope to meet Queen Misty soon. I have never met royalty. The problem with life is when we try to figure out God. It's like trying to measure the sky with our thumb and our pointer finger. It can't be done. Kerry, you are full of Lyons! Misty, you are a queen! I am honored to be court jester in such a noble kingdom. Thank you for sharing your story and making this world a better place for all of us. Every day is a gift!

I'm a Bozo Hater with Bats in My Belfry!

The fact that I had to put our yellow lab "Cooter" down Tuesday, 8 months after I put down our Pug Ruby, has devastated me and our family. Being the guy who takes our beloved pets on their last car trip is an unenviable task I dread. I love God's creatures. Most of them, that is. When talking about facing fears great or small, should I or shouldn't I, and what defines great and small?

I have mentioned in other chapters about my fears of clowns, dentists and bats. My ultimate fear is going to the dentist only to find him dressed in a bat costume with a rubber nose and rubber shoes. Those are real phobias. I use comedy to deflect real feelings of discomfort. Taking them one by one, I never took my kids to the circus. Remember that chapter? I still have no guilt! That phobia is easily managed. No circus, no problem. The dentist has a note in my file about my phobia and I get gas, even for a cleaning. Problem solved. That brings us to the bats.

Everyone knows of my love for rescuing animals! I like animals better than people for the most part. I know, not very Christianly. Giving it to you straight has been my thing, why change now? I know others who fear the dentist and clowns. Being a comedian all 3 phobias can be material for me. Animals are God's nonspeaking buffers between humanity that bring us happy. That is except for bats. I find these creatures to be the most vile creation in God's animal playbook. I know he was very busy during those days of creation. It is a part bird, part rat-like thing, part blood or bug sucking thing, it is blind and only comes out in the dark to prey on the unsuspecting.

I don't get it! Birds are beautiful! I adore hawks and birds of prey! I think bats are actually what people see when they encounter the chupacabra! Why is a bat turd called guano? That sounds like something I want to dip a tortilla chip into! Why do bat turds get such a prestigious name for a dump? Cows have pies, okay. Horses have apples, okay. If you've been on a farm those are pretty good visual descriptions of what they leave behind. Guano sounds like the latest hot spot martini bar on Rush and Division. Why does such a filthy, deplorable, rabid beast get a designer turd moniker? Stop the madness!

Growing up in Mokena and around Joliet we saw bats. I was horrified by them. The way they flew erratically, possibly carrying rabies, lice or bubonic plague or a chunk of cow hair they took off poor Elsie in the field next door was paralyzing. The articles I still read in the papers freak me out. "2 rabid bats found in Joliet Forest Preserve." Plainfield bat tests confirm rabies!" I know it seems silly, but is my phobia silly?

You may say "Tom you made it through 20 years of addiction, alcoholism depression, anxiety, panic and homelessness. Why are you worried about the bat phobia? The roaches didn't bother you that much." The answer is multi-layered. We all have fears and inner conflicts. My addictions and depression were massive obstacles that had to be faced. The clown and dentist phobias had solutions I created to get around or deal with them

We all have fears, phobias and things that freak us out which we don't talk about for personal or societal reasons. I had a bat experience that terrified me as a kid. It involved me, my sister, my mom and my stepfather. I remember it like yesterday. I can tell you details including weather. I called them both this morning. My sister vaguely remembers the incident, my mom not at all. I think I remember it because the incident was between me and my stepfather and this bat that I dreaded going near. If I didn't I felt I would be a sissy. To fear bats in general is feminine, not that there is anything wrong with a man being in touch with his feminine side.

I have let these little flying varmints freak me out since I had the ability to remember things. I have stories about Mammoth Cave Kentucky and the exhibit at Brookfield Zoo that almost killed me with a panic attack because bats fly free in the enclosure. Note to self: Read zoo instructions before entering.

I don't talk about this fear with people because I feel it's stupid but it genuinely effects me if there is a bat situation occurring. Do you have a silly fear that maybe isn't so silly? I have only taken my kids to the zoo once. We have never been to a circus and never to the forest preserve (particularly after dark) all because of this bat thing. It kills me because I love animals so much and I let this one bastard flyin' rat prevent me from showing my kids 100's of other species I adore.

I can face an inferno, but I am terrified by a match. Laugh. I make jokes. I have never turned to my friend Patrick and said "Bats scare the shit out of me." Dudes don't do that. He would probably push me out of the car. No, really. If you knew Patrick, he really would push me out of the car.

I submitted to an ad to appear on a program that deals with fear of animals. I did it on a whim, half joking, half secretly crying out for help for this insane phobia. They called me and are interested in my fear of bats. Now I have to decide if I want to apply or not and tell the world I don't like bats. God sure has a sense of humor. God bless us all. If you're looking for something to do tonight, head on out to Guano. They have a live band Billy Bozo and the drillers.

Hemingway...Bukowski.. and The Ol' Coot...

NOTE TO READER:  As you sip your morning coffee or down your dinner tea insert some incredibly humorous anecdote about life's challenges from Mike Royko or Erma Bombeck here. Then continue with this chapter. Your day will start with a smile on your face. You will dance out the door like Carol and Mike Brady. I loved the "Chicago Daily News" and "The SunTimes." As a kid I devoured the paper like a religion. When I try to be a writer like these iconic figures, I sound like Charles Bukowski discussing his optimistic views on humanity. "It always comes out exactly the wrong way!" It does so lately at least.

When you're a comedian you are in an enviable and unenviable spot. The nice thing is that you can say things others wouldn't dare to and not get punched out or taken too seriously. You can also take tragic human events and turn them into "jokes" to make them more digestible for public consumption. The bad part is that when you try to talk seriously about a subject people don't know if you are kidding. It is the paradox of comedic art.

As an addict I've spent 20 years in an emotional ice age. I didn't know how to feel and avoided feelings I couldn't understand. People who are "normal earthlings" don't sympathize with the breakthroughs of growing emotionally that recovery brings. They can't relate because they have been dealing with their emotions all along. They are quick to be judge, jury and executioner when an addict reaches a seemingly elementary stage of growth in emotional maturity. These people frustrate me when they say "suck it up", "be a man" and other belittling remarks when they have not walked a mile in my shoes. It is as if I were to say to a woman, "Quit bitching about child delivery being so painful, they gave you an epidural!"

It is like the non-addict judging the addict and the man convinced he knows the pain of child delivery. We can not judge another until we have slipped into their sandals for a day. If you saw a man steal a loaf of bread you would call him a thief. If your kid was dying, and you had no other means to feed them, you would steal that loaf of bread in a heartbeat and think of yourself as doing what you had to do to provide for your family. It's all in the sandals my friend.

I have a way of saying exactly the opposite of how I feel. I want to tell my wife how beautiful her new shirt is and some how she ends up going upstairs and changing, thinking I hate it. I am working on that. Sometimes my love comes out as cynicism or coldness. On other days someone who thinks I have no feelings for them thinks I'm a nut job when they find me sobbing to them about how brilliant I think they are. Dealing with reality is new to me. Saying things the right way is foreign to me. Those are my sandals.

When I drove my eldest daughter away from our home through my controlling, overbearing, speed and weed induced behavior at age 18 she fled to Peoria and then lived with my in-laws. There she became inseparable with Dakota, their yellow Lab. She renamed her "Cooter." I loved the name. I loved that she loved her dog so much. I was proud that I had passed my love for animals on to her, as well as the other kids. I hadn't been completely poisonous in my darker days.

When my in-laws were beginning to look for a new home about a year ago, I happily took her into our home. I somehow knew she was going to be our dog in the years she lived with my in-laws. I can't explain it. I just did. When we got her, her health was already failing. She had glaucoma, was half deaf, her hips were going and she had other classic Lab related conditions. She was also approaching 12 years old. That's like 90 in people years for a Lab.

Cooter slept next to my bed and laid by my feet when I wrote my chapters. She was glued to me and loved everyone in the house. She was one of those dogs that just wanted love. Period! With Hemingway in Germany and Cooter deteriorating I was faced with some tough decisions. She is coming home in a few months and I knew she was looking forward to seeing Cooter and being with her partner in crime, the companion who filled a void I created by my selfishness and insensitivity. I prayed that Cooter could hang on through Hemi's trip home.

In the last week or so Cooter stopped eating and separated from the pack. She cried 24/7 and groaned endlessly; pack behavior I am familiar with. Here I sat as the frog again. I knew it was time to let Coot go. By putting her down before my daughter had one last chance to see her, I felt I was being that insensitive prick shitting all over her again. It was about me not wanting to hurt her again, like I always seem to do. Yesterday Cooter was in good spirits for the first time in many days. My plan was to make the appointment with the Vet and do the right thing for Cooter's well being and take the hit from my daughter again. I would tell her after Cooter reached heaven.

Foolishly I posted a picture of Coot on my Facebook page and stated I was letting her go. My daughter saw the post in Germany and went into breakdown. I did it again. I was doing the right thing for Cooter by letting her go. Sometimes getting kicked in the stones by your kids is part of the parent thing. I know Coot wouldn't make it to June and Hemi would be destroyed to see her in such terrible shape.

Sometimes we learn more from our kids than they learn from us. After we talked Hemi understood and was understandably shaken. She didn't hate me. I had the doctor check Cooter out before her exit. She had developed a severe heart murmur and did not have much time left anyway. I had made the right choice. The guilt I have for taking something my daughter loved so much burns. I still feel like when I try to hand her roses there's a thorn there to make her bleed. Those are my issues. She does not make me feel that way. Maybe one day I'll get things right. Probably not! The guilt stuff will take time. I am glad I have a daughter who is brilliant and emotionally balanced unlike her old man.

Coot went peacefully. I know she is better off. Sometimes it sucks playing God, choosing life or death for a pet. The happy times they give us makes that unhappy decision difficult but possible. I would rather have loved Coot and lost her than never to have loved her at all. Hemi, I love you. Coot is with Ruby and my dad is probably saying Ruby is too fat and Coot's breath stinks in Heaven right now.

Why Do I Default to Stereotyping Things I Do Not Understand?

I was recently offered a leading role in an urban film being shot in Chicago by a bright, young film maker that I had to turn down to a scheduling conflict. The script was well written. The production team was well organized. The casting was carefully selected. The marketing and distribution was well thought out and I'm sure the project is going to be a success. I am honored that they chose me for the role and disappointed that I could not take the part.

The cast and crew was 95% African American. I was to play a single parent father who has inappropriate relations with his daughter. He is a dark, flawed character. I am not defending him or the actions he takes in the film but the few lines I just state are an oversimplification of the character, film and project as a whole. When I was presented with the opportunity to audition for the part my first reaction was "NO WAY!" My personal attraction to trying things "outside the box" and a great conversation with the director led me to audition.

The first audition, on film, was an ad-libed "personality" audition. I stepped in front of the camera and proceeded to act like a stereotypical urban white street thug. I "assumed" that was what a black urban film called for. I got a "call back" with a script and did my next audition which was of me talking to a telemarketer after a long day at work. This time I talked like a blue collar, foul mouthed, white trash idiot. Shame on me on several levels. I was offered the part because of my "acting" in the role and my anger in the scene, not my portrayal of the character. After I had to turn the project down I thought about the whole experience and came away very disappointed in myself.

I am not a racist. White people have screwed me over more than all the other ethnic categories put together. I can say that when I am leaving a Sox game at 35th and the Dan Ryan after a night game and I am at a traffic light where a group of black teens are gathered, I lock my doors. I also do the same thing at night in Plainfield when a group of teenage white kids are by my car at a light. My fear sees no color, only fear. Where I am disappointed in myself is that I made some predetermined assumptions about the urban project that I turned down.

First of all I was only one of about 5 actors who were not black in the production. It made me uncomfortable. Why? The money was just as green no matter what color the hand was that was giving it to me. Second, I used urban slang and gestures in my "personality" audition. Why? That is not my personality! I let the word "urban film" take me to "New Jack City" and "Boyz in the Hood" (both amazing films) to predetermine my approach when the director did not tell me to act that way.

Lastly, when I had my callback and had my scripted conversation with the telemarketer why did I play it like I was a "blue collar worker?" Doctors, teachers, scientists, cops, computer geeks and professionals live in "urban environments!" I defaulted to the steel mill worker or the tire shop guy. Shame on me! I place labels on things I don't fully understand to make them easier to cope with instead of asking questions or researching the other side of the story. I jump to conclusions.

What a horrible habit! I let media, TV, movies, music, magazines and the Internet shape my opinions instead of learning for myself in some cases. This is a very unhealthy way to see the world. It's the easy way out and the fast track to stereotyping. I know better. This doesn't go to just people of a color, it goes to how people live, where they live, what they wear, how they talk, what God they worship, what food they eat, what books they read and so much more. When I look at the outside of anything and predetermine the quality or morality of what's inside prior to investigation, I have failed my morals, my God and myself.

Big Guy Jumps In to the Match Of Mom of Two Knocks Out Big Mouth Irish Boy!

It has been a long day for me. I went to pick up some of my father's tools today from when I worked with him and found myself sobbing early in the day. My mentor is in the hospital and I got into a fight with my mother. That's life. Mine is no more or less challenging than yours. We all have different crosses we bare and baggage we haul around.

Yesterday I wrote and deleted a blog called "When Dreams Crash Into Realities," or something to that effect. It revolved around an argument I had with my wife, who at that moment thought of me as "less than a man" because I am unemployed and my acting and comedy combined with my unemployment are not enough to cover our monthly expenses currently. My child support is $600 dollars a month and my wife is mad that the government won't reduce it even though I am unemployed. I am happy to pay the money. I just wish I knew where my daughter is and I have tried to get a reduction twice. We got into a huge fight. We have about 3 a year. I questioned everything right down to our relationship.

I have always made less money than my wife and was the one who was at the kids' first day of kindergarten, first grade, 2nd grade, 3rd, etc. I am proud of that. I am proud of her career. I have been a salesman my whole life and was one the whole time I used. I don't think that a man's income should be the basis of his "manhood." I don't think the way a woman cooks is a reflection of her "womanhood" or "femininity." I stated that I was not going to go back to sales because it is a huge trigger for my addiction. The fight was worked out between my wife and I but today I am troubled by the fact that I deleted the blog and let someone else tell me what was right and wrong with my life without knowing a thing about it. I probably should not have posted the blog until I was cooled off but I definitely should not have removed it once I put it out there.

I have made many mistakes in addiction and sobriety and will continue to. My name is at the top of the blog. I share my feelings, deep feelings much more than the average bear. It takes some stones to do that. It took none to remove the blog. If you choose to follow great. I write for myself in hopes it helps you. I will never again remove a blog to be a populist or an apologist. I am a click away from soduku or Facebook. I love my wife. We have settled our differences. My next blog will be what I consider a man to be and a woman to be. Don't step into act 5 of a movie (my life) and think you have the answers. If you have read all 117 entries I may listen more be slow judge and slower to speak.

The following are the comments that created my retraction of the blog by "Mom of Two." I do not know who she is. I respect her opinion. Her comments are public as they were listed on my blog. Her remarks made me react. The second comments are from Patrick Bagdon a Comedian and friend whom made some very valid points about what I am trying to do with this blog. Charles Bukowski is one of my favorite writers, not role models. One thing he said is "don't be afraid to roll the dice." Most people are. I am not. When I retracted my blog I picked up the dice. I will never do that again as an artist or writer or blogger. God Bless us All!

Mom of Two Don't be angry at your wife for wanting you to become a husband and pay half of the bills. Everyone would love to do another job....unfortunately usually another you like less pays the bills. Suck it up....be a man, stop using "I'm going to go back drinking if I don't get my way" excuse for doing only what YOU want to do...hence....your wife not respecting you. You should now take ownership in your recovery and know that life is not easy and full of stress and that you will have to do things to get through without your crutch....Lets see if you can do it....Your daughter has every right to the money she gets. You chose the alcohol over her at one point. That will take years off her life as she begins therapy as a young woman. Take ownership Tom. Life isn't a bowl of cherries and pay homage to your wife for being strong, loving you, when most would have said "get out"......just saying....

Patrick Bagdon Comedy has left a new comment on your post "Mom of Two Knocks Out Big Mouth Irish Boy!":  
If you are going to do a blog this personal, sometimes people won't like what you say. In my humble opinion you shouldn't have removed any of your posts, if you didn't mean it on some level you wouldn't have written it. If this is the "Touchy Feely Totally Safe" version of your "True" feelings and only what has been approved by the public will get to stay, why are you wasting everybody's time and your own? Either bring it or leave it.I didn't get the chance to read what "Mother of two" said, but who cares what she said. It's only her opinion and if you are going to remove any content that gets negative feedback then this entire experiment is for nothing. I support your right to express yourself, but when you say something you can't let people goad you into pulling the plug on yourself. You have shown your soul here and that takes guts, don't let one person (Or 1 million people) with contrary opinions silence you. In other words, keep writing my friend. Only the living and the free have a voice, you're both-cherish it.

Mom of Two Knocks Out Big Mouth Irish Boy!

In addiction the addict stays camped out inside our head, ready to put its two cents into a situation whenever it can if we don't keep it locked in its cage. We do that through recovery groups, helping others in recovery, spiritual development and logical thinking. Logical thinking is the rub. An addict lives his life emotionally, feeding unwanted feelings with the drug of choice. He reacts first and then sorts out the damage. I let my emotions spill out on paper without thinking logically about what my wife's legitimate concerns were. I acted first and asked questions later.

Over the last few weeks I have been caught up in my daughter's problems,  theatre production, a comedy showcase and an offer for a film called "Sidetracked" while I await word on another project I am very interested in for later in the summer. There is also the renewal of "The Chicago Code" and some student projects I have volunteered for at Columbia College Film School, where I am a proud alum. Basically I have let myself get chaotic and emotional.

My wife is thrilled with my career and doesn't want me to stop what I am doing. I let an emotional outburst she laid on me effect me and I got defensive. "Mom of Two" was quick to point out that there were probably many times when I shot my mouth off when I was using or drinking. She is spot on. My wife made a comment that she knew would hurt me, to get my attention. This is another practice I used to participate in frequently.

I have no resentment with my daughter getting child support. You missed the mark there, "Mom of two." I am frustrated that I don't know where she is. I went wrong by not listening to my wife's lashing out and hear where she was coming from. There were some simple things she needed me to do. Going back to sales and giving up acting isn't on the list. I reacted defensively instead of compassionately. That is old behavior. I am still an alcoholic. I do not use alcohol but there is still some "ick" that pops out sometimes. Recovery is a lifelong process. My wife and I are wonderful. She is the next greatest thing to my sobriety.

God does not come down with fire and burning bush so much these days. He speaks through us. "Mom of Two", thank you for being a messenger for me to see things clearly. I needed your third party slap in the face to get back on page. I have passed on the film "Sidetracked" and will be managing my projects more efficiently to accommodate my personal universe. "Mom of Two", you never know when God is going to have you step up to the plate and be His instrument of change for the day or moment. I thank you for being mine today. God bless us all!

The Luck O' The Irish Aint All That Bad!

Last night was the 8th out of the last 10 St. Patrick's Days that I spent sober! There aren't many Irishmen who can say that and be proud, but I am. For many years every day was St. Patty's Day for me. I also want to clarify for those who don't know. If you tell someone that they have the "luck o' the Irish." you are not telling them they are on a streak of jolly tidings. The Irish traditionally have had shite for luck. To wish someone "the luck of the Irish," is to basically wish them hunger, loss of home, servitude, oppression and general misery. You're better off wishing someone no luck at all than to bestow upon them the "luck o' the Irish."

Last night the Micks beat the odds. We had one helluva night in the working town of Joliet, Illinois, a miniature Pittsburgh or Boston about 30 miles outside of Chicago. On an unseasonably warm night I was blessed to take the stage with 7 other Irish comics and 1 Mexican (minority requirements) for a night of laughter and friendship at the good old American Legion Harwood Post. It was the first show put together by Patrick Bagdon (soon to go national) and myself. I have to say for our first time out of the gate it was a huge success.

Being no stranger to self promotion myself, all of the other comics promoted the show for a month and the turnout was great. The crowd looked like part of the cast from "The Departed," some from "Happy Days," and the rest from "How the World Turns." It was the great American melting pot. The line up consisted of me, Patrick Bagdon, Horacio Ramirez, Kristen Toomey McLaughlin, Dan Brennan, Derek Miller, Sean Patrick Conroy, Joe Larkin and Patrick O'Hara. Everyone was on game. Everyone was in top form; a rarity when everyone in the lineup hits a home run.

Making people laugh is something that has always given me great pleasure and satisfaction. Last night was no exception. Comics are a rare breed and a unique species. We take the darkness of the world and turn it into light. We take our pain and let people in on it and get a chuckle out of it. There is no such thing as a well adjusted comic. We have to be a little off center to come up with some of the material that spills from our lips. Mostly we say the things that most people want to but don't dare to. We say what most folks dare to think.

Beyond making people laugh, I was touched to the center of my being by all the friends, old and new, who came out to support me. It would be impossible to name them all but I have to point out my friend Todd Brown. I've known him since we were in diapers. That's when we were little, not a freaky thing. Plus Lisa Koon. These are friends I hadn't seen in 20 years who I used to run with when I was about 5. Fond memories of Mokena and grade school filled my head. It was like we left off where we were during our last conversation. Nothing had changed.

There were friends from recovery and friends from high school and the comedy circuit. I actually had to take my set list with me onstage because I was afraid I was going to forget my routine! By the grace of God I didn't. I got some laughs. I got some groans. Both acceptable responses for a comic's happiness. My cousin, who just lost his mother, even showed up to support me. It almost brought me to tears. The whole night had me feeling like a big ball of mush. I just wanted to hug and kiss everyone in the joint, and I think I did.

I tend to beat up on myself for mistakes I have made in my life too much. Last night God showed me I truly am loved. He has blessed me with a talent I love to share. Seeing so many friends made me put the bat down and ease up on myself. I may not be a man rich in earthly treasure but when it comes to friends my cup runneth over. In one night many years of regret and insecurity was washed away and replaced by a feeling of love and real friendship. I was truly happy and grateful, two feelings I think I could really get used to. Thanks again. God bless us all.

If Life Is Serving You A Turd Sandwich You Don't Have To Eat It!

Every Day Is A Gift. I can see that more clearly now. The immeasurable fury of nature is awesome at the least. I think it's God's way of letting us know he may let us run the show sometimes, but he is the director. I do not say that lightly. We can put a camera on Mars, but we can't accurately predict the weather. Sometimes we are humbled by God's grace, other times humbled by his power.

For my brief political fact one of the first things that the GOP controlled Senate slashed from the budget was NOAH and the Tsunami early detection system funding. California, Alaska, Hawaii, Florida and the whole East and West coast take heed. Cutting spending in areas that could cost thousands of lives and billions in treasure is backwards thinking. The early warning system in Japan gave the population 30 minutes to reach higher ground. Thousands of lives were undoubtedly saved from the Noah warnings.

The devastation that continues to rock Japan, and the world, is a quick way in and out of the pity pot. My last few chapters have been dark and sad, yet starkly real. The challenges we are going through with our daughter's recovery is day to day. My Lab Cooter's health is day to day. My job search is day to day. Our economic health is on life support but we are alive. Every day is a gift. I see it more clearly daily.

Sometimes as humans we tend to focus on the things we don't have instead of rejoicing for the things we do. I know I do. Once my snowflake of self-pity starts rolling it can become a massive ball of icy chaos before I can say Frosty the Snowman. I don't know if everyone does it, but I can't be happy in my discontentment when there is one thing that is out of whack in my world. I tend to start searching for more of what's wrong in my life so I can have a big fat, sour life sucker to pout with.

My wife can make a simple correction or "suggestion" to me about how I am putting the plates in the dishwasher the wrong way and I'm off to the races. Suddenly I'm catapulted into a complete reevaluation of my life. Is our marriage failing? Should I move to Nassau? She probably has someone else! I'm joining the Peace Corp! I can go from not putting the coffee cups on the right rack to eating wolverines in the jungles of Nicaragua in the span of about 2 minutes!

If I don't catch the ice mass when it is still a snow ball I'm in for a very long day with myself. As if taking cues from my wife's remarks, the whole world seems to turn their focus on giving me a turd sandwich to munch on for the rest of the day. Drivers cut me off. I get flipped off for unknown reasons. It starts to pour as I open my car door. My coffee spills down my shirt on the last sip. It is like a universal conspiracy has been set in motion to insure my day goes horribly!

I know very little, but some things I know for sure. If I think that God takes time out of his day to mess with me it's time to reassess my size in the universe. I also know that people, places and things don't make us happy. We allow them to make us happy or sad, angry or indifferent. Feelings are an inside job. There have been times when my wife has called me a "big baby" and I laugh at her amusing observation. Yet other times when she has called me a "big baby" I have puckered my lip and said I AM NOT A BABY! YOU ARE TIMES INFINITY!

The key to healthy, right thinking is in my approach. I start my day by saying to myself "God, please get into my head before I do." That usually starts things out on a good note. If I roll out of bed and say it's gonna be "one of those days," it will be. If I find that my day is not going the way I want it to, I can stop, regroup, check what is really bothering me and start all over again. The choice is mine. When my day is filled with more thank you's than pleases I know I'm on the right track.

I Used To Play God, Sometimes I Still Have to...

When you are caught in the grasp of active addiction the addiction or "drug of choice" becomes your God. It is what has the most power over you and the first thing you turn to when you don't feel the way you want to feel. The God of Heaven is there to be filled in on our plans. He is wonderful when things go our way. He is heartless when he doesn't give us what we want. While I was using I forced my way through life kicking ass and taking names while leaving a huge swath of destruction in my wake. Although it was personal to the victims and hostages I took, it wasn't personal to me. I did what I had to do to survive in my parallel universe.

It always amazed me that I could perform so many tasks with self-control and success in my life, but when it came to alcohol a 12 ounce can of beer was stronger than me. I am absolutely powerless over mind altering chemicals. I have kissed the Blarney Stone in Ireland and driven carefree across that beautiful country. I graduated from college. I have seen success is earthly and spiritual growth is eternal. I have found a new God, or a new perception of Him. He is not there. He is everywhere. He gives us the choice to do as we wish. He is there to pick up the pieces. I know Him by His first name which is love.

My 2nd oldest dog Cooter is having glandular problems again. She cries so much and grunts when she lays down. I look into her eyes and I see the pain deep within. Her wagging tail gets slower by the wiggle. She is almost 12, half blind, half deaf and living in the whole of my heart. I am taking her to the Vet Thursday. I am grateful to be sober and spiritually fit for whatever he tells me that day. I wish Ole Coot could tell me if she's ready to go or wants to hang around. I have been in this spot before and the tears are coming already. I know that God will give me direction. I know I'll do the right thing even if it's the thing I dread most.

Whoever says "they're just pets" doesn't truly understand that these amazing creatures are from God. I would be a liar if I didn't confess that I like animals more than people on most days. It is that love that guides me, even when I don't feel very loving, that I must turn to. It is the love that my FAMILY of animals gives me and my love for them that makes that moment of having to play God so difficult. I'm grateful I'm not God because the decisions He makes make mine seem like child's play. Sometimes the truest gift of love is being able to let go, let God and trust that you did the right thing. I wish above all that our pets could talk just one time, and that one time be when they're ready to head to paradise.

Sometimes....

Sometimes I feel trapped, between a whisper and a scream,
my pant leg snagged in the chain of my life.
If I force my way forward with the pedal in MY hand.
I hear my heart tearing like cloth and lurch back.
But if I call out for some help from above,
I'll make it home dirty but covered in love.

God Bless us All!

Every Day Is A Gift That's Why They Call It The Present...

The catastrophic devastation that is ravaging Japan right now has to make you stop and think. As scenes of desperation keep coming in, the possible nuclear meltdown of 2 of Japan's 12 reactors is surreal. As Americans we see the images and it looks like a made-for TV movie. We tune in, watch with care, then switch the channel to our favorite show and make a sandwich. With the exception of 9/11 and hurricane Katrina we have been very lucky when it comes to acts of God and natural disaster.

In recovery the focus is on staying "clean" day-to-day. The reasoning is that  the addict has too many yesterdays and the regret and uncertainty of the future creates anxiety. Living in this one day at a time mentality has made my life better. Not only in reducing my desire to use or drink but in the total of my very existence. How many events like the ones in Japan, Haiti, Thailand, New Zealand, Iran, Pakistan, India and other countries devastated by disaster must we see before we change our focus from me, Me, ME to us, Us, US! Somewhere along the line we have thought of ourselves as unique and almost immune to catastrophe.

I'm proud to hear "God Bless America" and all the other patriotic songs that fill our stadiums and media. I wish we could open our minds and open our blessings to all nations in this world. The planet is getting smaller by the day through commerce, trade and communications. The impact of the tsunami in Japan will effect our world economy. The unrest in the Middle East has brought gas price up almost 30 cents a gallon. We are not isolationists in our Capitalistic goals. We need to think of ourselves as part of the earth. Not the center of the earth!

In addiction the addict thinks that the world revolves around them. It is all about their feelings, desires, needs and simply getting what they want when they want it. I sometimes feel like we have this it's-America-and-the-rest-of-the-universe mentality. America acts as if it's Earth and the rest of the world revolves in its orbit. Last I checked Jesus was born in Israel and grew up in Egypt and Nazareth. I have yet to read about him living in Cleveland. Some say he appeared in Utah but that is another blog. Christianity itself migrated from the Middle East to Western Europe to the United States. We live in the greatest country in the world but the last few words are "in the world."

We seem to have hijacked Jesus and God's blessings for America. When there is a crisis we open our hearts to other nations but we should be thinking about everyone all the time. In most countries when they say they have nothing to eat, they really have nothing to eat. When we stand in front of our fridge or pantry saying there is nothing to eat, that really means we have so many differnt items to eat but some particular one isn't exciting our taste buds. We take much for granted here. I do too. We have it pretty good here.

All of life is lived only a day at a time whether you're an addict or an earthling. Accidents, medical crisis, drunk drivers, disease and nature makes all of us viable candidates for death every day. If you're like me I always sat around talking about the things I would do "tomorrow" or when "I retire." The point is we miss a lot of todays due to yesterdays we won't let go of and tomorrows that may never come. How are you with those in your orbit today? Did you wake up mad at your mom, kids, spouse or neighbor? How important is it? I live my life thinking that each time I see someone may be my last so I try to leave it on a good note.

Recovery focuses on mending fences and squaring things with the people in our past and present. This is a great way to think for anyone. Maybe the addicts are onto a pretty good idea. We are also taught to give of ourselves to others first. We are all selfish at heart, wanting the most comfort for ourselves and families. Screw the neighbors. In today's world most of us only know a few of our neighbors. Most of them we see and wave politely as we drive past. We have gone from the United States to the What-about-me nation. I don't think there are nations and states in heaven. I think all colors and sizes have equal access. I feel that America is a part of God's great plan. I know we will all stand alone before our maker and I don't think Gabriel checks passports or bank accounts before our arrival.

Try living life like an addict, day to day. It really is a great way to live. It reduces stress and anxiety about tomorrow. It relieves us of guilt, shame and remorse of our past. Make things right with those you are fighting with. Even if they're wrong your happiness is being affected by the riff. Don't let people live in your head rent free. Love people. Play with your kids. Think of how you can add something positive to the universe today. We live in the greatest country in the world so we should also be the leaders in love, peace and understanding. The plans you haven't gotten around to with your kids should be done now. See the beauty in each sunrise. Give thanks at the end of the day for another day of life. Every day is the present. Spread the gift around. May God Bless us ALL!

Ashes, Ashes They All Fall Down....Father Nature Ain't Playing!

I spent much of yesterday applying for jobs and working with people in recovery. I used to be a Centrist Democrat. I am now an Independent because I am hoping for a 3d, 4th and 5th party to arise and be brought into the political system we hold as being so democratic. The fact is that when our forefathers drew up the Constitution they wanted all men to have a chance to hold office based on their political agenda, not their pocket book. The reality is that 9 times out of 10 the guy with the most cash wins. Period.

Talking about politics is a wound that runs deep amongst a lot of us. I was a political junkie until I saw that with only two choices, you have to vote for "either" or "or." That is not much of a choice. I see good and bad in both parties. There will never be true compromise until other groups are represented similar to the Parliamentary system of the United kingdom and a few Western European nations. Some guy said "Money is the root of all evil". Another quipped that "power corrupts". For the life of me, I can't think of two better phrases that summarize our political system.

The fault I place on Americans is that most are apathetic or simply uninterested in really finding out what's going on in the political arena. Most folks watch a few talking heads that work for corporations who have agendas. Getting the news directly from both sides is not part of that agenda. Corporate strategy is profit. Capitalism is the basis of our nation's creation. Somewhere along the line the desire to use Capitalism shifted from benefiting the masses to benefiting the board of directors.

I am amazed that the Democratic party is called "Godless" while they propose things to help the environment and those less fortunate. I find these things to be exactly the things Jesus taught. However, I don't agree with a free ticket for people. This is a time when we should be creating job programs that help America as FDR did during the Great Depression. Our infrastructure is crumbling and it is only a matter a time before our roads, power grids, bridges and communities fall apart.

The Republican party thumps the Bible and touts themselves as "the family values party". I think they are referring to their own families. Less than 20% of the population controls most of the money in the world. Profit comes before morality. Fiscal responsibility is touted unless it comes to war. There has to be regulation on big business. Otherwise safety and the well being of the masses will be compromised at the mercy of the almighty dollar. I'm also confounded by the party as being so "God" oriented yet they call environmental deterioration and global warming nonsense.

The proof is in the pudding. The killings in Darfur have been basically ignored by the U.S. because there are no military or natural resource benefits there. Turning our backs on them doesn't seem very Christianly to me. During times of war the U.S. used to prosper because all the manufacturing and peripheral jobs that were created made our economy stronger. Now we outsource or contract to a few companies. Imagine the jobs that would be created if we actually went back to producing and manufacturing in this country.

We have propped up dictators and then removed them when they were no longer useful to us. We have turned our backs on nations who truly seek democracy because there is no military or financial gain to be had in these places. Let's face it, we want world democracy only if there is something in it for us. We have gone from propping up the middle class to catering to the elite few. We are destroying our world in the name of profits.

When I was a kid there were several hardware stores, department stores, pharmacies, banks and local family businesses that were the fiber of small towns. Now the big box stores and banks leave us with fewer and fewer choices. Every town in America looks like the next. Whether I am in Mokena or Indianapolis all of these places offer the same handful of choices. America is losing its identity to the gain of the mighty and rich.

The tsunami that hit Japan is horrifying. Don't forget the devastation in New Zealand a few weeks ago or the floods in Pakistan a few months ago. When was the last time you heard about Haiti? It seems to me that the world is getting ticked off at us. God gave us mastery and free choice in being the caretakers of our earth. Until we put the health of our nation and earth at the center of our thinking things will continue to deteriorate. The point of no return does exist.

This is a world problem and I do not think the blame is to be placed on one party or philosophy alone. We all share the same world. It's crying out to us that something is desperately wrong with how we are running things. I pray for Japan. I pray for us, right here in the U.S. that we stop fighting and start fixing. There are no do overs. My dad used to say "You don't crap where you eat." From what I see we are doing just that. Until the day comes when we stop thinking about the prosperity of our own families and begin to think of ourselves as a world family, the corruption and destruction of our planet will continue. Who cares who's kissing who! Let's fix up the house we live in and then we can worry about what the neighbors are doing.

It happened during the flood. It happened when the dinosaurs went extinct. It happened to great civilizations like Rome, the Mayans, the Inca, the Babylonians, Egyptians and many more great civilizations that ruled the world. I love America and I feel like that commercial from the 70's with the Native American's tear running down his face as he sees the destruction of our planet. If you think we are immune to the same same collapse of other great civilizations you are fooling yourself but you are not fooling Nature!

Saying I Look Angry......Really Makes Me Mad!

I would like to welcome Hungary to the family as well as multiple check-ins from China. I have yet to reach Australia and Antarctica. Sorry about the re-posts lately. My blogge would not link to Facebook. Of course I am always thinking it's Big Brother out to censor. It's more likely the conspiracy theorist that I am. My theories on conspiracies are best left to Jessie Ventura. I wonder what the world would be like if we knew all the facts about the world we live in. I do know anarchy!

The blogs I have pasted have been on the down side lately. It's a part of living with depression and recovery. A lot of it has to do with my daughter, economy, politics, no jobs and all the other things dragging everyone down lately. I am feeling much better now that the sun is out. I know spring brings 
movie and TV filming in Chicago. I will be better prepared for next winter. Boredom is excruciating to me. Being a Type A personality, I like things fast and furious. When they are on cruise I just can't sit still.

The theatre gig I landed in "My Two Husbands" as Grant Griswold has been a positive experience. I play a smarmy flim-flam man and the cast doesn't seem to like me. When I asked the director why I was getting a chilly reception he quipped 'that I do play the role rather convincingly.' It is a strange paradox that my roles are all shady, dark or brooding. I got offered the roll of "Dad" in the upcoming film "Sidetracked" but as of now I have to turn it down because I have committed to a film in Indiana during August. "Sidetracked" has a 4 month shoot schedule. I have reached out to the director and producer to see if we can work something out to get my scenes done before August. I would be playing a controlling, abusive dad. For the film being shot in August I play an angry, vengeful, macabre character. In the Firestone commercial I played the "Angry Guy".

Do you see a trend here? In the play I am cast as "The guy you love to hate". It is a comedy and I play the part over the top. It's bizarre to me that I am a comic by trade and am cast as unsavory or unreedeeming characters. Anyone who knows me says I always look 'pissed off.' Maybe that is why. Jay, my director friend, says lots of guys have had a helluva career being a bad guy. I am grateful for any role that helps support my family and further my career.

Being the obsessive over-thinking addict and depression sufferer that I am, I try to analyze it. After a great deal of thinking over several cups of Dunkin Donuts coffee I think I have an answer. Those dark figures are a part of my past. When I was homeless I was living like an animal at night and working    9-5 during the day. My depression allows me to see deeper into the shallowness of the character, (insert laugh here).  There are a lot of different method acting devices and character acting tricks that can be employed. I need real life experience and pain or joy to come off as convincing in a part.

I led a dark life ridden with pain, isolation, darkness and selfishness for 20 years. Those characters live in me. I have just arrested them and don't give them access to my outer self unless it's on a stage or set. I am thankful to have the comedy to offset the dark side that keeps finding me in film and commercials. I am realistic that I don't have the looks to play a leading man in a romantic comedy. Maybe in the Phantom of the Opera but I can't sing and can't stand masks! Maybe my ultimate acting role will be as a Disney character at the theme park. On the outside I could be funny, fuzzy and warm and kick the little brats in the shins when they don't listen to their parents!

For those of you who are stereotyped, I feel ya. The important thing is that you don't have to buy into what people think about you. Who you are is between you and God. I hate the stigma that comes with depression and the disdain for the recovering addict. But I don't let those things hold me down. Ignorance is bliss! We all have our issues and people pick on the inhabitants of the "Island of Misfit Toys". It is easier to judge others than to take a hard look at ourselves. I know I did it through addiction. Being human, I still judge others. I try to work on it though. I am not a "drunk"! I AM a recovering alcoholic! I am not a "Dope Fiend"! I AM a recovering addict! I am not "crazy"! I have clinical depression.

Remember "Rudolph"? All the toys from the misfit island find homes. Be yourself. Accept who you are. Change what you can. Know the difference between the two. I am not an angry guy. I am a confident, often cocky, nice guy. I have lots to work on within myself. The work is never done. I can be anyone I want to. You can too! When I used to demand that God should give me what I deserve, I am grateful He didn't take me up on it. I am grateful that I get work as an angry guy and can be fun to work with. All I want at this point in my life is to add something positive to this dark world whenever I have the chance. Sometimes I buy into the chaos. Sometimes I ignore my chance. Sometimes I do just the right thing. I'm okay with being a "Charlie in the box."

I Was In a Funk.. But Sly and the Family Stone Never Showed!

It's been a few days since my last blog. Facebook didn't let me post it for some reason. It was probably the fact that I mentioned China and Turkey and love in the same blog. It obviously got picked up by Big Brother and checked out. Sorry but I'm a child of the Sixties. I was in fact a child in the 60's and some of my views mirror those times. I think the 70's get a bad rap too. At least until 1975. We had some great music in the 70's that gets overlooked by disco and bad clothes.

I have been going through a down time the last few days. No work. Family pressure abounds. I also suffer from depression but those days come and I know they'll pass. The worst thing I do when I'm in a funk is to isolate. Being alone can be a pretty scary place for me. When I am stuck listening to me all day it's like I'm stuck with a comedian and drama queen. Oh wait! I am a comedian and drama queen. Depression is not a dessert best served alone. It can be very cold.

 I know all the punchlines to my jokes so hearing them over-and-over in my head is not good. I always know what's coming. Of course I need to bring in the drama by posting heavy, brooding troubadours like John Prine, Johnny Cash, Tom Waits, The Cure and Kris Kristofferson. I love to share my pain. Ever since I was a little boy I always felt that songs could capture my emotions and express them better than my own yapping. I still feel that way. When I found myself listening to John Coltrane all day I knew there was a problem. Note to readers: Coltrane is great to chill out to but not recommended if your hamster just died.

I have learned from my depression and recovery that the best solution for keeping a healthy attitude is by getting out of myself. I picked up the phone and called some people in recovery. Unfortunately when two people in recovery try to make a plan of action you end up with 5 opinions. I went outside. I talked to a couple friends and I checked my Facebook.

Facebook takes a bad rap. I think it is ingenius. While I was feeling low I had words of encouragement from old friends, new friends, strangers, my grade school science teacher and folks who suffer from the same maladies I do. That is far out! That is technology at it's finest. When I get a friend request from "Hot Mama Waitin" things get a little dicey. I thank you all for being my friends.

The problem for me is when I get the strange notion that I can control people, places and things. Worry is not innate. We picked it up along the way along with anxiety. I can say that I have never worried my way into pleasant conclusions consistently. It's a wasted energy. I think the Buddhists got something there. Did you ever see a pissed off Tibetan monk? I didn't think so. I have yet to see the Dalai Lama punch a photographer on CNN. I have learned that I can't sit on the problem or I will slowly rot. If I take hold of the solution I grow and thrive.

Last night, Squeaky and I went to our first recovery group for people who have addicts in their lives. It was unusual for me to be on the other side of the table and hear what it's like to live with addiction, or more accurately, how it effects everyone. Addiction is like a bad potato. When one starts to rot it makes everyone around them rot to. It enlightened me and stung a little. There was a young girl who reflected on late night fights and broken dishes. Childhood incidents that I lived and can recall like yesterday were suddenly brought back to the forefront. My anger at my stepfather grew steadily. That was until I remembered he is dead now. You win some, you lose some! I have forgiven him.

The main thing to remember is every day is a gift. Sometimes the gift is G.I. Joe with kung fu grip, other days it's a turtleneck. Thats the way it goes. When I think I'm in the dumps I have to remember there are people all over the world living in dumps. I can only do my best. When I don't try to make someone smile or reach out a hand of encouragement I'm not showing God my appreciation for pulling me from the horrible pit, the miry clay that was my life for 20 plus years.

If you're not comfortable in your skin, if you're miserable or if you're at the end of your rope, then call a friend. If you don't you might throw that rope over the limb of an old oak tree. I have been to those depths. It wasn't until I reached out my hand for help that I was saved from myself. Sometimes you have to surrender the battle to win the war. Sometimes life is going to give you a turtleneck or worse yet, tube socks. I will always reach out for help because I know in my soul I can't handle this on my own or I will self-destruct and waste away.

Thank you again for being there for me. Sunny is getting stronger by the day. We are optimistic but realistic. I have to turn things over to God and the people around me. I can do many things by myself but I am never alone. There is strength in numbers. Sometimes you're the dog, sometimes you're the hydrant. That's the way it goes. Thanks for helping me back out of the pit. The air is much fresher up here. I have put away the Coltrane and have turned up the Beatles, Led Zeppelin and Van Morrison. Like Sly said in the Summer of Love, "I'm just here to celebrate!" God Bless!

Prayer for Dummies!

Praying for Dummies! Start with Hello!

I would like to welcome China and Turkey to my blog family. Keep the faith. It's been a few days since my last blog. Obviously my daughter has been the center of my attention, as it should be. I am scheduled to do comedy at a great venue in the city tonight and I'm not feeling very funny. I still haven't found full time employment and my acting career is pretty much on hold.

The title of the blog is a play on all those "Dummies" books they sell. It is not intended to hurt anyone. I won't say that I am a prayer expert but I have a lot of experience. In a Facebook statement I said that "BELIEF is knowing that there's someone to catch you when you fall. FAITH is knowing the guy who catches you." I believe in prayer. My friend Maria says she has 82 people or groups praying for my daughter. There is strength in numbers.

I believe that God made us all different because he wanted different relationships with each of us. I also believe that set rituals and prayers are a great start but a simple "Hello" or "Help" is a sufficient introduction to a direct connection to the almighty. He doesn't make prayer rules or require that we spin 3 times and click our heels together to get His attention. I pray often and when I am getting into a funk, I know I need to pray more. So here it goes:

Hello, Father Almighty. Thanks for another day of life and sobriety. Thank you for all the blessings you have bestowed upon me and my family. I am really grateful. Thanks for being with me right now when I am feeling so alone. Thank you for sending your son to die so that I may live. Please continue to look after Sunny, Squeaky, my family and the kids. Please bless those I remember in my heart and the ones I forget. Thank you for the gifts you have given me. Help guide me into using them the way you see fit. Help me to be a better person today. Allow me to be a messenger of your love. I know I'll snap out of this. I feel good knowing you're there. As I make mistakes and sin, forgive me and help me to grow. Please let me add something positive to your world today. May thy will be done. With your strength I know anything is possible. In your name I will always pray...amen

An Apology from the Author...I'm Still Me!

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to vent and whine about my blog and if I should continue it or not. I was basing my decision to stop or go based on the amount of readers that I had and commented that readers had fallen from 100 a day to 100 a week. That is the worst thing that I have ever said in this blog and I apologize for it. When I started the blog I made it clear that if I helped one person my years of alcoholism were not spent in vain. Maybe one of those hundred people who checked in to my blog this week got a little shot of hope. My rant violated the basic tenets of recovery assistance. My motives were selfish, not pure.

In alcohol recovery we say the alcohol is removed but the "ism" is always there. I have heard this as an acronym of "I'm Still Me." I am in recovery but the character flaws that drove my addiction are still in me. The drunk in me is always going to live in me. I just have the upper hand and have arrested its' development. These flaws get better, or less powerful in my personality, but it will be a lifetime of repair. There are terms that are taken from recovery literature that fit me to the letter. I am an "Ego-maniac with low self esteem." I suffer from "terminal uniqueness." I also still seek approval and want everyone to love me. It is okay for me not to love or approve of everyone, but I want everyone to think I am the swellest guy. What a great guy!

There are pure and selfish motives. Until a few days ago my blog was written with pure motives. My request to vote on the blog was an attempt to seek approval for my work. It was a selfish motive. My dear friend Linda got me to reassess my motives in writing the blog. I have shared the messy details of my life and from the comments and emails I know my work is useful to some. That's all that is important. It is also important to me to review and repair the wrongs I have done to society, friends and loved ones. Ultimately I am baring my soul to rid myself of the baggage I have carried for so long.

I have written about how addiction is an equal opportunity killer. I have droned on about how the disease doesn't care about money,class or race. When we found out about our daughter's struggles I felt like I failed her, my wife and myself. At the root of addiction is low self esteem or self-criticism. In a drunken rage or high an addict verbalizes and criticizes those around them. It's nothing like the number we do on ourselves. The thought that I did not see the "signs" of addiction in my daughter made me question a lot of things about myself. I reached out to you to pat me on the back and lighten my load of feeling like a failure.

It's easy for me to share the pain that I have endured and relate how I alienated my wife and family. When the subject turned to my daughter I had to see her from the view of a daddy and an addict. Both crushed me. Seeing my wife endure another possible addiction roller coaster was my first chance to see the look in her eyes that I created hundreds of times. I felt it to the depth of my soul. It was a moment of clarity in seeing the years of pain I put her through. As a blackout drinker I don't remember most of the horrible things I said to her and others. She remembers every mean, cutting remark I made. In the last few days I am on the other side of the addiction coin. I feel her pain. It is not only the pain and uncertainty of our daughter's situation but a sobering reminder of my past. Now I feel her pain.

At this point our baby is doing all the right things. I am an optimist cloaked in a realist. I know that I am powerless over other people's actions. That's the bitch of the matter! I have redoubled my recovery maintenance and am going to be starting on a new road with my life. I have blogged about the loved ones of addicts and now I am one. There are many recovery groups for the family members of addicts or the children of addict parents. My wife and I will now be attending these meetings together. She is also going to venture out on her own and work on her own recovery. Since addiction is a family disease it is also a family recovery.

I don't know why addiction picked our family. It doesn't really matter. Asking why, how come or where did I go wrong is of no value. The answer is in solutions, not reviewing the problems. It doesn't matter why. It is what it is. Obviously I won't be sharing intimate details of my daughter's recovery. That's for the family only. However I will share my feelings and experiences on the new journey we are taking with her as a part of family recovery. God works in strange ways. I have stopped questioning him. I stand by my premise that there are no coincidences.

If you are suffering with an addict or are enabling or co-dependent there is help out there. If God wanted us to handle life alone He would have stopped at Adam. There is strength in numbers. Sharing our experience, strength, hope, good and bad is how healing begins. It's also the reason recovery groups continue to exist and grow. My intentions are pure. My motives are right. I want to thank you for letting me share my life, my soul, darkness and light with you. I will continue on with my blog until God has another assignment for me.

Sunny Day's Returning..... Intermittent Smiles and Dark Clouds!

http://www.nbcchicago.com/news/local/Drugs-Labeled-Bath-
I would like to welcome Norway to the family. This is technically my 100th blog and I decided I'm going to continue it. I think my little "Should I Stay or Should I Go Now" rant was a byproduct of the emotional rollercoaster I've been on with the family and Sunny. Ultimately this is my journal so if no one reads it I feel bad but good for venting. I would also like to say that Mick Jones ruined the Clash. That's for the Strummer lover in Sad Seattle. Ian would like to fill Mr. Jones lap with a pile of Big Audio Dynamite!

Things are kinda touch and go here. Sunny is cleaning out and there are signs of my daughter peeking out every once in a while. I remember those first few days of living moment to moment, wanting to use but knowing you can't. It is hellish! The emotional swings or the inability to have feelings is hard to process. Naturally her phone is ringing off the hook. All the users, dealers, playmates and hangers-on are covering their tracks to make sure there will be no reprecussions from her visit with the police and the hospital. We're not out for vengeance. Just leave my daughter alone. If they continue to hound her I can be quite the Irishman protecting home and hearth.

She is spending the weekend with us and we are "babysitting" her for now. She has the right attitude so far. When people enter recovery there are two trains of thought. The first is let's do dis! The second is f**k this! She is open minded. That is huge. She knows it's out of control. That is even huger! She wants to seek treatment, that's the hugest! Sometimes I honestly wonder if Sunny is the one person who God wanted me to help get sober. I hope I help someone. Out of all my experiences the three most important things needed for a possible recovery is honesty, having an open mind and being willing to do whatever it takes to stay sober.

Tonight we are going to a recovery meeting together along with one of her friends who wants help. That is so cool. We have also found some young people recovery groups for her to check out. I know that she is on a good path. However the path of sobriety is more like a tightrope in the early stages. You have one foot on hope and the other on obsession to use. It makes the insanity of addiction all the more real. When you are getting high you know deep down inside that you are doing something wrong but the drug allows you to forget that you are risking losing everything. The desire to use is stronger than the fear of losing your loved ones, your kids, your house, your self-respect and your life.

I can remember when I was homeless. I considered it "character building" and teaching me survival skills. That is the sickest twist to addiction. The disease wants to kill you and you thank it for the ride. There were times when I would wake up next to a woman and not know her name, how I met her or where I was at. Yet somehow I thought it was an adventure. When I would eat from the leftovers hotel guests left in the hallways I would think, Wow they didn't even touch these fries. What a score. I'm like McGyver.

They say that recovery is a simple plan for complicated people. I know I fit that category. I like to complicate everything. As an addict your 3 steps ahead of a conversation when it's happening. All the positive first signs are there for my girl but I know that recovery is between her and God. We will continue to guide her in the right direction and pray that she stays strong. All the knowledge of addiction is useless if it isn't put into play on a daily basis. When she walks out that door it's just her, God and her addiction.

When you're in the middle of addiction it is your God. It is the omnipotent chemical. The God of heaven is feared or detested by the user. We feel abandoned by God, that He has singled us out for hell on earth. Out of the billions of people on the planet the almighty is going to pick on little old me. Addiction is all about "ME!" In active use the addict reacts to life emotionally, not logically. I often think that when addicts are born they are given half the logic and twice the sensitivity of the average person.

It takes a long time for the fog to clear. I felt like I was going crazy every day for the first 6 months of my sobriety. It's like being a baby again. Emotions and logic are clashing. The obsession is still strong but the body is healing. Addiction and recovery are an inside job. It's the chaos in our mind that we are either trying to escape or piece back together once we stop.

I have no false hopes. Recovery is a bitch in the beginning and needs to be maintained daily like managing diabetes. We are hopeful and pray for her continued strength. I also know the odds are stacked against her. Please pray for her and my wife Kris. This is the third time she has had to deal with an addict and I'm amazed at her strength. With God anything is possible. Never forget....You can fail miserably with God or succeed more miserably without Him. I love you guys. Make someone smile and remember every day is a GIFT.

The Sit Down...Partly Sunny With Patches of Fog and Tweeking!

Sometimes people ask me why I write so openly about my trials and tales of alcoholism and addiction. It is usually something a family tries very hard to cover up. My readership has gone from 100 readers a day to 100 readers a week. The stories are getting old to you. My point has been to bring functional addiction out into the open. I have shared my story to help you think about whether you have a problem. Maybe it's your husband, or wife or child. My feeling has been that if I have helped one person stop, or gain insight into this deadly reality, my years of pain were not lived in vain.

This is my 100th post. I told myself I would stop at 100, reassess the reach and impact the blog had, and go from there. The decline in reads tells me the facts. People are uncomfortable with my uneasy subjects. My wife has spoken about living with an addict, I have told you about my own lost years through alcoholism and chemical abuse, and now you have heard some of what we are facing with our daughter.

I am glad that autism and chemical imbalance have come into the light. I do have a problem with the marketing of quick fix pills that relieve symptoms but don't address the causes. You can watch any of these commercials and self-diagnose yourself between commercial breaks. I have watched commercials about menopause pills and felt I had at least four of the symptoms. These drugs are marketed like spaghetti sauce. Uncle Phil passes the bowl to his nephew knowing he's not going to wet his pants. Sleeping pill ads are filled with butterflies and well rested actors. Kids don't need to got to the street to score anymore, they can just reach into the medicine cabinet.

The availability of drugs is a huge problem that's growing by the minute. There are as many, or more, drugs available in your "cute" suburban neighborhood than the Northside, Southside or Westside of Chicago. It's not just weed like "back in the day." It is now crack, coke, meth, heroin, painkillers, Ecstasy, and the latest craze "Cloud nine," a mixture of cocaine and Egyptian bath crystals. The drugs are man made, cheap to produce and quick to destroy. The Internet has given our kids an unending resource for finding the latest get high craze, or "how to make it yourself" recipes.

In our desire to "keep up with the Jones'" mentality, and not wanting to appear dysfunctional to the world outside, we enable and embolden our kids. Addiction is the new "pink elephant" in the room. We deny or just don't know how to face the issues our kids deal with daily. It is new to us. We never had so much information and avenues to get high when we were growing up. It is only going to get worse. Money is the root of all evil, and death can be purchased for just a few bucks.

Being in recovery gives me some insight into what makes an addict tick or the signs to look for. That doesn't insulate my loved ones from the poison that's available at anytime, in anyplace. My wife and family have a new challenge with our daughter. She said all the right things and layed out the drama. She couldn't look us in the eye (a huge red flag). She is scared and remorseful. She is feeling all of the emotions that come with crashing or being caught.

She is being drug tested at school. She has agreed to go to recovery meetings. She understands that the next stop is rehab. The wounds are raw and the pain is fresh. The real test will come over the weekend. Quitting dope or booze is achieved by many. Staying stopped is achieved by few. We are not kidding ourselves. Addiction is stronger than love. It is an inside job. It constantly gnaws at the addict, begging us to give in to "feel better". It does make you feel better temporarily. Then comes the crash, the remorse, the shame, the self-loathing and all the pain comes again. This time with a little extra discomfort.

The cycle of scoring, using, crashing, feeling like hell and wanting it to go away becomes a vicious circle and dead end. Addicts are on a human hamster wheel, always running but only going around in circles. Words and threats mean nothing to an addict. When using, we are tuned into the "get high" channel 24/7. It is a lonely existence that few truly understand. I am in recovery but I still have to do things on a daily basis to "stay stopped." I talk to others in recovery. I have a mentor. I read about my disease. I help others with theirs. It is a lifelong commitment. I will always be an addict. I have just got it locked in a rusty cage inside my mind.

It is still working up in my noodle, trying to find ways to get out. Active participation is essential to my continuing sobriety. If I begin to isolate, and cut myself off from those addicts just like me, the time will come when my addiction says just the right thing to get me to pick up. My sick mind doesn't always give me sane advice. I need to share my feelings with people like me. If you are not an addict but a loved one with a problem says that you don't understand, you really don't understand, no matter how many times you have watched Dr. Phil or Dr. Oz. I know what it is like to have a baby, but I will never know what it's like to have a baby.

Our daughter is making some good decisions on addressing her problem. The follow through is up to her and our family. The only person who can get an addict clean is the addict, with the help of God and other addicts. Our hearts may be broken. There me be lost ground. There may be lies and broken promises. We are ready for all of these possibilities. We pray, we love, we support and we hope that she will make her way back onto the path of sobriety. There are no guarantees. We know that also. All we can do is our best. It is in God's hands. I hope I have helped you in some way. Keep the faith. Remember EVERY DAY IS A GIFT! GOD BLESS YOU!

Conversations about Life and Death...A Sit Down With My Sunny!

We all want to think our kids are perfect. We all want to believe that they tell the truth. We all pray for their safety when they walk out the door. We all pray harder that they will walk back in again. The fact of the matter is that we don't have to look very much farther than our own teenage years when it comes to our kids. They think we just hatched when they were born. They think we are clueless as to what really goes on in the world. When we think back to the idiotic things we did in those years we hope they don't do the same.

My Sunny will be over in one hour for a sit down about her "hospital experience" and I am afraid. I am afraid of what I know. I am afraid of what addiction can do. I am afraid that she will have the defiance, excuses, stories and "I promises" all ready to go. I remember all of the rehearsed stories I went over in my head when I had to tell my folks about a bad grade or some trouble I found myself in. Those conversations never went as planned. The one we are going to have in an hour is no different.

Out of all the conversations I have had with strangers and friends about the power and manipulation that chemical dependency has over our minds, I never thought I would have to do it with family. I have to deal with the emotions that come from having been through the battle myself and be staring into the eyes of our middle child. The supportive side is there but I also am fighting with the anger and terror of knowing what she is up against.

Remember when your folks would tell you not to go to a party? You often made up stories and went anyway. "You tell your Mom I am with you, and I'll tell my Mom I'm with you." When we were told about the "bad" kids we were instantly attracted to their "badness" even if it was from afar. If my Mom told me not to look in a drawer, I ran to it like a man posessed as soon as the coast was clear. If our kids knew of some of our prior holiday antics or college war stories those would be instantly thrown into our face.

I am by no means supporting the drugs of the past, present or future. However, the stuff they are making today is unbelieveable. They are mixing cocaine and soap crystals. Meth is made with battery acid, draino, cleaning products and cold pills. The drugs are getting more potent, more deadly and more addictive. When I was growing up smoking grass was like you were a drug king pin. You were a "stoner." There was some speed and that was about it. Now kids have synthetic death to get off on along with all the stuff us parents have in our medicine cabinets to fight insomnia or anxiety.

One thing I won't do is start screaming. It is the quickest way to tune a kid out and give them the fuel to go seek more chemical relief. The goals of the chemical of addiction are to isolate, manipulate then dominate the user. The more the drug gets a hold the more it fans the flames of teenage angst. It's tough enough being stuck between being a kid and an adult as it is. Alcohol and drugs make that angst all the more gripping and powerful. The teenage years are truly the crossroads or turning point of success or catastrophe.

The addict feel nobody loves or understands them. That is part of growing up. When chemicals are added to the mix the disease tells you it really loves you and is your only friend. It really wants you dead. The fearless, indestructable attitude we have in our teenage years is blind but deeply engrained. At that age 60 is like a million years old. The thought of living to 50 seems like a pretty good run. They/we feel like we are invincible. Kids think it won't happen to me (overdose). Parents tighten their blinders and think "Not my sweet little Johnny."

It is thirty minutes until she arrives. I will pray that God gives me the words to help her understand what she's heading for. I often say "Show me your friends and I'll show you your future." No truer words can be spoken. I will listen instead of talk. I will have a conversation, not deliver a lecture. There will be consequences and boundaries set. There will be love and understanding. I will share with her the pain I have endured and put others through. I will let her know she is not alone. I will do what I can to support her. The rest is up to her and God. Please pray for her and our family.

This is just the beginning. Hopefully it was a phase or experience. During my sobriety I have been to more kids funerals than in the 20 plus years when I was an addict and alcoholic. I don't want to go to another one. When it comes to drugs think the worst, not the best about your child's experimentation. Addiction doesn't care how good or bad of a parent you are. It does not care how rich or poor you are. It does not care if you go to church on Sunday. It is an equal opportunity killer.

I Know A Guy Who Is losing A Loved One To Addiction...That Guy Is Me!

The pain and despair that comes with addiction is excruciating. Every day that you wake up you feel like hell and you know you are going to do the same thing that day. It's like there's a guy with a sledge hammer standing behind a door and even though you know he's there, you choose to open the door any way. The power of addiction is merciless, deceitful and doesn't care who you are. It just wants you to submit to it's every command - and you do.

Being through addiction, part of my recovery is trying to help others to recover and make it to the other side. As a recovering addict I have done the lying, cheating, stealing and manipulation that makes addiction possible. Being an alcoholic or addict is a 24 hour job. You are either trying to get high, getting high or suffering from the last high. The paradox of addiction is that it convinces you that you are not an addict. It also twists your mind into thinking that your family and the world are against you. It reassures you that giving in and getting high is your only path to peace.

There is a person very dear to me who I see slipping into the jaws of addiction. Knowing the signs and games an addict plays is both a blessing and a curse. It's like you know the fastball is coming and you still strike out. The person I am speaking of is a beautiful girl. She is bright and intelligent and only 18 years old. She has her future mapped out and is only a few months away from graduating high school. But now, in the final stretch, she has found a new future with a dead end in the form of chemical dependency.

When I used "checking out" of myself was required. I had no choice. For over 20 years I continuously opened the door and let the guy with the sledgehammer beat my brains in. I lost everything from my self respect to my family. Those losses just added fuel to the fire and more power to the addiction's constant reminder that it was my only friend. It wasn't until I truly thought I was losing my mind and going to die that I got help. Friends, family, strangers and God Almighty can't help an addict until they get tired of the guy with the sledgehammer beating them to death. I was thrown life preserver after life preserver and my denial let me drown for years.

It is so sad for me to look at her and see the patterns I am so familiar with. There have been threats, sob stories, broken promises and I'm sorries. The patterns are all the same. Only the faces and places change. I see the pain in her eyes and the self hate she has for herself. The self hate is the ultimate master of destruction and obsession for an addict. As life gets more chaotic, the greater the drive is to escape. It is hell on earth.

As a loved one you can make threats, try tough love, beg, spoil and play every game you can think of to get an addict to see reality just for that one second. Sometimes it works. Other times it doesn't. Alcoholism and addiction are the only diseases that tell you you're not sick, that you can quit at anytime. An addict thinks they know all the answers and everyone else is full of shite! Prayers are important. Setting a good example is right thinking. Loving the addict who is suffering is vital.

The reality check is that all of the solutions, combinations of them, love, anger, compassion and punishment, may or may not work. It's a crap shoot. Some times you roll a 7. Sometimes you roll box cars. There is no perfect solution. All of us suffer from terminal uniqueness. You can do your best and keep the faith. That is all.

I am going to see this lovely girl tomorrow night. I can share with her my love, experience, strength and hope. I can pray for her. I can tell her the stories of living on the street or having cockroaches crawling all over my body. Maybe something will stick. Maybe it won't. We can control our actions but we have no control over the outcomes. When she walks out the door she will be left with my love and words of support and the knowledge that I will always be there for her. Once she hits the streets it's just her and her addiction. Until the scale tilts from misery to recovery I must accept I can only do so much.
When she walks out that door I will say "Sunny, I love you and I'm here for you."

Me a Cop? "The Chicago Code" Basic Police Code Course with John Folino, Jr.

I hope you guys caught last night's episode "Cabrini Green" on "The Chicago Code".  I was in the FOX episode 3 times. I am truly grateful to be a part of such a quality show that focuses on the real life portrayal of the life of a Chicago police officer. Detective John Folino, Jr. is the "go to guy" and technical advisor who works with show creator and writer Shawn Ryan. He makes the show authentic and insists on "respect for the uniform." He also embraces the importance of the brotherhood that is represented in the show. Sunday, I was lucky enough to take a basic police code course for the program with John, Henry Rush, a Veteran of the force, and a handful of "Chicago Code" actors.

It was surreal for me as I drove to the course which is taught in Elmwood Park, Illinois. In my years of active alcoholism and addiction, Elmwood Park was close to where I spent my year plus days of homelessness and total despair. Stone Park was my turf for 2 years as I struggled to find sobriety. When I say home, I was homeless living in my car, occasionally staying at one of the many transient motels along Route 45/Lagrange Road. As I drove by some of those old haunts, bars and liquor stores, I couldn't help but remember the pain I endured as an addict 14 years earlier. At that time, Lagrange Road in Stone Park was a playground for drunks, dealers, thugs and Vice. I blended in perfectly with the scenery, stumbling to my hotel, living my life in a loop of addiction, fear, pain and isolation.

As a person who made it to the other side of addiction and alcoholism, I couldn't help but thinking every day really is a gift. I knew then that each day that I hopped on the merry-go-round of hell that had become my life, might be my last. Folino pointed out to us that every day an officer leaves for work he realizes it may be his last. As I flashed forward to my participation in the class I was reminded that I am one of the lucky ones and sobriety is truly amazing. I was actually driving toward the police and was looking forward to spending my day with them. In those dark years, I did everything I could to avoid them. It would be more likely for me to dine with Elvis than to spend an afternoon with a guy and a badge.

The course is designed for extras and actors to learn some basic police vocabulary, weapon handling, cuffing and protocol. The goal of the course is to teach "respect for the uniform and the people who risk their lives to protect us daily." One of the interesting things John hit on was the city of Chicago flag and its meaning. The 2 blue bars represent the Northside and Southside. The four red stars represent the Great fire of 1871, the 1893 Columbian Exposition, Fort Dearborn (commerce), and the Century of Progress World Exposition. Thank John and Henry for that info when you win your next game of trivial pursuit.

       (Truly honored. Me and Det. John Folino, Jr., Technical Advisor "The Chicago Code.")

The thing that struck me the most about John was his passion and dedication to his profession and his insistence to keeping consistent, professional respect for wearing the uniform for the city of Chicago. As a full-time member of the force and his work on "The Chicago Code", Folino still makes time to teach actors how to "portray" an officer on his time off. John also works with families of fallen officers who gave their lives to serve and protect US! From the way a hat is properly worn, to the proper presentation of the uniform, no detail is too small for John to overlook.

Most "cop" shows pay little attention to protocol and the respect that should be given to the position of honor as an officer. We spent most of our day discussing that. We learned proper weapon handling, cuffing, searches and professionalism. John Folino and Henry Rush are two guys who represent the city, the department and "The Chicago Code" the way it should be, with integrity and honor. I look forward to future courses Mr. Folino rolls out for the cast of the show.

By participating in the show it opens up more opportunities for me in season two. You guys keep watching because the show only gets hotter from here. People have said I could be related to Jason Clarke's character Jarek. I hope casting thinks the same way. I will still pursue my dream of landing a speaking role on the show. That would be amazing. If not, I know that if I am cast as an officer or detective, I will treat the uniform and position with the greatest respect.

It's been 14 years since my addiction put me on the other side of the badge. Sobriety and recovery are a gift that I don't take lightly. Stressing the importance of how members of the Chicago Police Department are brothers and family, working with each other to make our world safer, reminds me of recovery itself. You can't do it on your own. That's the fact! You can start your life over any day you choose to when you are "sick and tired of being sick and tired." I am living proof of that. A few short years ago when I was lost in addiction and booze you could never get me to believe I would be taking a police training course and on a hit TV show. The fact that I have, is testimony that in sobriety anything is possible.

When your house is on fire and you see a huge red firetruck racing to save your home, there's relief. Your first thought is of thanks that your home may be saved. In most cases when folks like you and me see a police car with flashing lights we think, "Oh no, what did I do?" Both professions are there to make our lives better and our communities safer. I understand that now and will never look at a police officer the same way again. Thanks John, Henry and Darlene! Keep watching!