"This is the Radio Clash on Pirate Satellite..."....The Clash........My Crash!

I hope that title got your toe tapping a bit. I love that song by Joe Strummer and the boys. But sadly it was also when they started to edge towards the mainstream and away from the politically fueled anthems that made them the force they were in the early to mid 70's. I can relate to the song and it's significance to the band. At that time pirate radio was huge in Europe as enterprising "stations" set up anywhere they could, including the middle of the ocean, to be free from the restrictions of censorship that the Motherland was imposing on their musical content.

Today I began "Every Day is a Gift NOW!, the radio brother of this book. It was a smashing bowl of "uh's," "uhm's," and dead air. I learned a lot from the experience about the world of talk radio and myself. I am glad I did it. That is why I took the chance and made the leap into something new. I'm also glad that it didn't go swimmingly because it showed that it is easier to sit in front of a keyboard and gather my thoughts as I put them to paper or cyber print. Dead air doesn't play well on radio. It also showed me that the same amount of preparation that I put into developing a character for a film or commercial part has to be done for radio. I can't ad lib everything.

The two most important things it taught it me was that "it's not as easy as it look," and that falling on your ass can be the best thing for you sometimes. I have done radio and newspaper interviews about my "Story" before and have been a DJ on a 50, 000 watt radio station when I was 21. You can "hem and haw" during a newspaper interview and the reporter omits those leaving behind a nicely quaffed puff piece. When I had a radio show in mid-80's on WAUR I had music to drive the show and only needed bits of banter to sprinkle in between the Herman's Hermits and Buckingham's. During radio interviews there are breaks and half the time is covered by the host, so your 50 % covered right? The focus and direction is covered for you.

I don't know how many times I've sat and watched athletes and young actors or entertainers give an interview filled with "um's," "ya' knows," "uh's," and other silly talk and thought. 'Boy, you'd think these kids could learn to talk and think of something more intelligent to say.' Open mouth insert microphone here Tommy boy! The only thing that I didn't do at the end of the show was thank God for giving me the strength to win the game. I always find that fascinating in post game interviews. Like God has time to take out of His extremely busy day to pick an over and under in a football or basketball game.

I thought my "gift of gab" and my prior radio experience, combined with my knowledge of my own story would make doing my first talk show a huge success automatically. It didn't and doesn't work that way. God sent me a wonderful message today. Be prepared at all times. Don't take yourself so serious kid and have a plan B & C if plan A isn't going as you would like it to. He also humbled me a bit, a good thing for all of us from time to time.

I will be more prepared for my next show. No, I am not giving it up. It wasn't a catastrophe. It was still genuine and heartfelt. It was still me with the right motive and message. I just need to game plan better. I am looking for a sponsor of the program. I don't make a dime. It goes to Blogtalkradio. The cost is $360 for the entire year. It includes banners and impressions and lots of mentions by me. It will allow me to have up to 5, 2 hour shows per week, toll free numbers and up to 50 callers on line at once. I can't afford to upgrade the show. What I like most about the package is that it will allow me to pre-record shows and upload them to a schedule so they can be played at a predetermined time as to not interfere with the jobs I am soon to be getting.

When I was getting back into comedy and wrestling with whether I was going to include my addiction and depression history as part of my back story, I was talking a lot to two of comedy's big hitters, Tom Dreesen and David Brenner. Mr. Dreesen said, "Show them your pain," a piece of advice given to him by Carl Reiner. David Brenner told me that, "A groan is just as important as a laugh. Why? because it's a reaction." Both men have been very gracious to me and I am thankful for their support.

Today I definitely showed some pain and felt some. There were some groans on my side of the microphone and your side of the Internet dial. That's okay though. If everything went smooth all the time I would freak out. I learn more from pain and adversity than success. Today was a bump in the road. Now we get back up, realize all is well and continue on from here. Thanks for the support. I will have a new show scheduled by Wednesday. Talking about my struggles and the great city of Chicago is going to be fun. I can talk about walking some of the cleanest streets in America and sleeping on a few of them as well. God Bless! If you missed the show go to www.blogtalkradio.com/tommyconnolly The show is archived there. Everyday is a Gift! Be well!

Easter with the family.....Hope for Humanity...And A New Outlet For Da' Gift!

Happy Easter! I hope you spent it with your family. If not I hope you spent it happily, doing something that brings you joy. I am a Christian so the day had happiness and hope surrounding it for me. I also spent it with my kids and had a Skype call with my daughter in Germany. I saw or spoke with all the kids, with the exceptions of Kelly. I am confident, that wherever she is, her mother made her day special as well.

12 years ago today I was in rehab. It put the day in perspective for me. Easter 1999 was a family day at "SHARE" rehabilitation in Hoffman Estates. None of my family came to see me. I had lost that privilege. The lies and manipulation of my alcoholism an addiction had left me on the inside looking out and the outside looking inward. It wasn't a wasted day in my life. It was a painful one, yes, but I was growing and I know now that's exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment in my life. Why? Because it made this one possible.

The kids know everything about my past. It keeps me honest with myself and them. I hope it also provides them with insight into the pain and horrors I went through to reach the gifts of today. Squeaky made a wonderful ham and chicken dinner and we gave "Da' Schmutz," our Pekingese/Chin, a shave. She didn't care for it all that much. After we ate and were done with the grooming I reflected on where I was at this moment. I realized that what I have is beyond thousands of people's wildest dreams. By American standards I am middle class. By third world standards, I am a king!

I am grateful for what I have. I am more grateful for what I haven't been given. Starting tomorrow, "Every Day is a Gift NOW" will move to the world of talk radio. Specifically it will move to www.blogtalkradio.com/tommyconnolly  

The first show will be on at 9:30-10am Central time. Click on the link and enjoy the show. The time slot is temporary. I will be taking the program to an "on demand" format almost immediately. Filming season is beginning here in Chicago and I will know in the next few days if I will be part of a new pilot. There is also the rumors of a second season of "The Chicago Code" and a few projects I have brewing. Acting and comedy is not a spectator sport. If you want to get in the game you have to be constantly looking for opportunities where players are needed.

The show will go beyond addiction and depression issues. I want to break the fourth wall and bring your stories into the show. I also want to talk about chasing your dreams and making life happen TODAY! The radio format will also open up the chance for me to bring in guests from the film, TV, radio, comedy and acting industry to share professional and personal inspiration with you guys. It's time to kick this thing up a notch!

I will continue to do this show on "Blogtalkradio." I like that the radio blog will allow for dialogue. There is nothing more refreshing and provocative than two minds or more engaged in creative problem solving. I am looking forward to the challenge.

That's all I got for now. I hope you tune in. If not, keep reading. Remember Every Day is a Gift...That's why They Call it the PRESENT. Peace and Love.

"There'll Be Jelly Beans For Tommy..Colored Eggs For Sister Sue!"

Monday is going to be a very big day for me. We will get back to that because I am hoping that it will be the start of a new era and growth for the direction of my mission and intention of where I wanted this chapter to go.

I am not apologizing for any of my chapters. There is no need to. I share my story; that's what makes it mine. I tell it like it is as it comes out of me. I certainly am not Hemingway or some wordsmith. I am just a guy trying to stay sane and sober in a crazy world. I share my pain and the mundane, maybe the inane. The point is that I lay it out there. I share what people strain and fight desperately to hide from the world and deny to themselves and their family. I am an easy mark. I will continue to do exactly as I am doing. This is not required reading. Snookie's blog and Charlie Sheen world is right down the Internet dial.

Sometimes I do chase my tail. That is life. Sometimes I do fall into old thinking, I make mistakes, I get angry, I cry, I pout, I am a human. I have been around recovery long enough to know that you can't live in chaos for 20 plus years and come out of it the picture of ideal mental health in a few short years. I live and work on my weak points daily, sometimes moment to moment. I would like to point out that I have never mentioned how or where I go to recovery. I spent too many years, not walking away. That brings me to Monday.

Starting Monday, "Every Day Is A Gift NOW" is moving to the wonderful world of Internet talk show radio. The show can be found at www.blogtalkradio.com. The first show will run for 30 minutes from 9:30am to 10am central time. Enter "Every Day Is A Gift NOW" w/Tommy Connolly and the show will pop up. Then you can call in and TALK LIVE. I am looking forward to the comments, experiences, success stories and recovery that my readers can bring to the show.

I will also be bringing on guests who have dealt with addiction and depression, plus I will be making a complete left turn. The show will also talk about the possibilities and new life that sobriety brings. I will be interviewing comics, actors, filmmakers, real folks with inspiring stories like Kerry and Misty. I will also address the stigma and misinformation that surrounds addiction and mental disorders. I am really stoked about it.

God sends us messengers with messages. I look forward to what God has in store for me in this new season. I remember when we were kids we would play "ding-dong-ditch." We would ring the bell and run. The owner would come to the door frustrated that there was nothing he could do. The new radio show will end the "ding-dong-ditch" syndrome for "Every Day Is A Gift." I lay my opinions on the line and my passion flows deep and real. Now all of you can call in with questions, criticism, answers, ideas or inspiration. The possibilities are endless. Happy Easter. God Bless Each and Every one of you. Talk to you Monday.

April 18th... Birth, Death, New Hopes and Old Fears...

Simply waking up I was glad to be alive. The two week run of "Meet My Husbands" was over and I was going to miss Grant Griswold in some strange way. Even more so, I was going to miss the incredible group of actors that taught me so much over the 6 weeks we worked on the production. We put a lot of work into the Fred Michael creation and judging by the crowd reaction, the Director's vision translated nicely through our interpretation on stage. A few of the players, I am sure, will become long time friends. Some I am hopeful to run into on other stages in other places. After the production wrapped we struck the set and I stayed for a Stage Combat Workshop offered by the guild with fellow actors Sean Nordsell and Devon Ford.

April 18th is the date of my departed grandmother's birthday. You may remember from my earlier chapters that she was like a mother to me, while my mom worked, and that she passed in my presence. Monday, April 18, 2011 was also the day that I was going to be attending the memorial service for my aunt Kay. She was my grandmother's niece. The morning was cold. The sun was out and I was exhausted and hadn't even gotten out of bed.

My feelings were drawn to what my cousin Johnny must be feeling. Aunt Kay had passed a few months earlier in hospice care, like my father. She went home with dignity and grace, surrounded by loved ones and never felt sorry for herself once. My aunt loved the color black and could give Johnny Cash a run for his money when it came to the color. From clothes to napkins, furniture to dishes, Aunt Kay had the "black market" covered. Johnny was stoic and hid behind smiles as we arrived at the memorial in Evergreen Park. I drove up there with my sister and mother. It was a nice trip, reminiscing and talking about Aunt Kay and singing theme songs from old shows like "The Magic Door" and "HR Puffnstuff."

My sister Chris said I was still grieving over the death of my father. I was confused. She pointed out that I was frequently posting pictures of him at Bear games and uploading "deep" songs from YouTube. I shrugged it off, but didn't disagree. When Johnny brought in the urn and photo of his mom and dad it all came rushing back to me. I was right back to my dad's service and standing in Johnny's shoes. I felt my heart race and my skin get clammy. Tears welled up in my eyes and I wanted to burst out of the chapel and run, to where I don't know. The service was beautiful. Family and friends told stories about Aunt Kay and we laughed and cried. I saw her smiling in heaven and chuckling a bit. She always snorted at the end of her laugh. It was priceless.

We returned to Aunt Kay's and Johnny's place for the post memorial party and everyone began to eat, drink and be merry. I ate and decided that as emotionally fragile as I was feeling, I had better go or I might decide to have "just one." If I took a drink there would definitely be more, that I was certain of. I said my goodbyes, hugged Johnny and began the journey back to Plainfield. A nap was sure to relax me and get me back on a level plane.

My phone rang. It was a Chicago number. I had been waiting for a call to do a film being shot this weekend called "Lo Stronzo" and was certain that was who was calling. I pulled the car over and called back the number. To my surprise and amazement it wasn't a call for "Lo Stronzo" but a "rush" call for a new TV series being shot in the city. They wanted me in the city immediately to audition. The day was getting crazier by the second. I flew home, changed clothes, prepaid for gas, forgot to put the gas in and made it up to the city for the audition. I think it went well. I did my best. I met a lovely group of people and the rest is up to casting and directors.

Inching my way through rush hour traffic I couldn't help but think of what a bizarre day it was. I was glad it was coming to an end. I arrived home to 3 pee filled psychotic dogs. As I checked my emails I saw that I had gotten the role in "Lo Stronzo." Being unemployed, a callback from the TV series would have made the day perfect but God had a different curve ball to toss at me that night. My happiness at landing the film was replaced by fear, anger, sadness and helplessness.

My son was making lots of calls on his cell and was angry. I stopped him and made him sit and talk with me. Sunny, my middle daughter, who was just coming up on 6 weeks of clean times was with some
"friends" that weren't a great influence on her. My first instinct was to go grab my Louisville Slugger and try some "Walking Tall" justice on these guys, but that only works in the movies. I told my son to cool down and wait for Mom to get home. We would go get her together. I was talking like a big boy. Wow, what a concept.

Of course I played the conversations over and over in my head. The "why?" and "how could you's?" flew through me. I knew why; because she has a problem. Yelling wasn't going to make it better or go away. It was going to make her shut down or run. I've been there and I've done that. We picked her up and took her home. We talked about her withdrawing from recovery meetings and people in recovery and that she was setting herself up for that day long before it got there. I gave her my infamous "Show me your friends and I'll show you your future speech." This time she understood. I didn't rush her to rehab and scream at the moon. Yes, there are some consequences and rules she must now follow by our demand, not suggestion. When a duck acts like a duck I have learned not to be surprised. We set ourselves up for unrealistic expectations when we expect the duck to become a swan, especially in such a short time.

That night, as I lay in bed, I truly felt as if I had spent an entire lifetime that day. There was birth, death and reliving the loss of my father in July and my aunt in December. There was the hope and excitement of a film landed and a possible long term job on a TV series. I felt the temptation and urge of taking the first drink after the memorial service and saw my daughter slip into a temporary set back. It was one heck of a day and I made it through sober.

No where in the bible or spiritual book does it promise that life is going to be easy. It doesn't promise that we will always get what we want or that people will do as we wish. It says nothing about our hearts not being broken a thousand times. They all lived happily ever after is for fairy tales. These books do say though that we can make it through life reasonably sane and happy on faith and love and that we are not alone. That is the key. We have each other to laugh, cry, fight and love with. I am truly grateful that I am not alone any more. God Bless....

"I'm Sorry,"..."Thank You,"..PC Reactions or Heartfelt Epiphany!

Before I dive into the 700 mile an hour salt flat speed testing site, known as the inside of my mind, I want to say a few HEARTFELT "I'm Sorries." The first goes to my wife Kris, the second to my good friend LT in AZ! I'm sorry and thank you  for being the focus of today's trip into Tommy's recovery and depression fun house. Please put your seat belt on. Do not stand up while the ride is moving and you must be taller than Frodo to take the trip.

An addict, a depression sufferer and a human will say "I'm sorry" and/or "I thank you" for many reasons daily. I will speak for myself. I hope you can relate. When I was drinking "I'm sorry" and "I promise" were the two phrases that came out of my mouth most. That is after I had poured booze and whatever down my throat and hurt feelings and did rotten things. I used "I'm sorry" as a way to get out of things, to avoid shouting out how I really wasn't sorry, or because "it's the right thing to say" after a disagreement or when I was wrong. Sometimes, it was to avoid my own feelings.

"Thank you" and "please" are two more beautifully cobbled simple phrases with a lot of power packed into a syllable or two. I used these to appear grateful, look good, show temporary superficial happiness and put on a good show. Of course, there were occasional times I meant all of these phrases but they have now become so over used that they are losing their power. I/maybe we, just say them because we are supposed to. I can honestly say that I have had a girl spill my coffee all over me at the gas station at checkout and thanked her for it! I have been conditioned into some of these responses. They have lost their heartfelt, soul based meaning that they are intended to partner with. I have also said "THANK YOU!" in an almost demonic tone to some rude register lady to show her how civilized I am. HUH? Earth to Tom!

There are so many of these phrases in the English language. American style has the best, which we have beaten down into meaning less innocuous, droning reactions instead of feelings. When my kids come home from school I ask them how their day was and they normally respond with, "it was great" or "it was cool" or "it was fine". In all honesty I am relieved because I think to myself that I am glad that there won't be a crisis to settle that evening. That should be the time I jump up and ask them what made it "great" or "cool". I don't do that nearly enough! Why? Because I accept the simple word of contentedness as affirmation that all is well. When they come home and say their day was "horrible," rotten," etc.,. I won't lie. In my head I think, "oh no, here we go..." Shame on me!

My depression medication had run its course and was no longer working at an effective therapeutic level for me. I switched to a different medication. When you switch medications that are manipulating the wiring in your melon there is a transition. The switch is accompanied with yet more depression, mood swings, sleep problems and a list of symptoms unique to the med and the patient. Depression, like alcoholism and addiction is never cured, it is merely arrested, controlled and managed.

My new meds are evening out now and I feel great. I feel motivated again and have put my NIN CD's back and gotten my Ramone's back out. I have had some moody outbursts with a few friends, and especially my wife, over the last few weeks. I know it's the meds. They know it's the meds. As always I must remember the world judges me by what comes out of my mouth, not what goes into it.

I learn more and more about me each day and it's getting much easier to live with me and within me. I find the more sober I get the more alcoholic I realize I really am. I have come to accept and surrender to the fact that I have some conditions that are real and forever. It ain't so bad. I am growing and happy for the most part. I make mistakes and can admit them. It sure is nice not having to be right all the time. As for those words we use like hello's and goodbyes.

I am truly sorry to Squeaky and my friends for shooting off my mouth, new meds or not. The best solution for big mouthitis is keeping it closed. As for thank you's. I thank you for taking time out of your day to read my ramblings. I hope it helps you. I know it helps me. I know I am getting somewhere down the road of life because my prayer life is less frantic and more grateful. I don't seek comfort in things I can wear, drive or eat, drink or show off. I have a prayer list. I have friends I pray for daily. When I hit my knees at the end of the day I thank God for giving me another day of life, even if it was a rotten one by human standards. You see, it wasn't too long ago those same prayers were begging him to not let me wake up the next day. Now when I do wake up, I jump up and say "What are we doing today!"

That is after I say "Dear Lord, please get inside my head before I do." Have a Day!

COMING NEXT WEEK!   PROCRASTINATION

Facing Fears...Showing up....and facing the Pang's of Life...

Last Friday I did my first stage production in Joliet with the Theater Guild! The last time I was in a play was in third grade when I played a rabbit. Oh, and in first grade, I was Santa! We are doing Fred Carmichael's "Meet My Husbands." It is a comedy and very much like "I Love Lucy". It has been well received. I play Grant Griswold, the spoiler, the guy you love to hate. I haven't gotten one laugh or a peep from the audience so I must be doing okay. THEY HATE ME! The character is crass, rude, vain, smarmy, manipulative and a player. Obviously a complete polar opposite from the way I was when I was using on the streets for twenty years.

Two things really struck me about the part and doing live theater. First of all, on opening night I was absolutely terrified to the point of a panic attack. There were only 30 people in the crowd! Four days earlier I was perfectly comfortable telling jokes and my story of addiction to 300 of the toughest dudes on the planet and it didn't phase me. Now I'm in front of the neighbors and freaking out. I realized that I was out of my element and I had 8 other people on stage with me. If I fail doing stand up, it's me against the world. I can beat myself up and move on. I was afraid I would let the other actors down and it was really freaking me out. Robin Christopher and Mo the Stage Manager, Luke, Yvonne, Michael, Jacqueline, Devon, Laurel and Joe all helped me as a team. They were all there for me.

Saturday, I also did my first real speaking role in a film called "Chasing Hollywood" being shot here in the Windy City. Check YouTube, there are trailers up. My role was a lot of fun. I made my way back to the theater in time for my role as the hated Grant Griswold. I also made contact with an extraordinary woman over the last 10 day that will put this into perspective, I hope. We are all messengers and we all have roles to play. Some, we play unwittingly and deliver the message not realizing we are doing it. Some messages we deliver like diatribes, preplanned and packaged to be dumped on our loved ones, friends or co-workers.

Sometimes we know we have a tough job or message to deliver or road to go down and we face it with dignity and grace as best as we can. Kerry faced the death of her husband with grace and took it farther by taking in sweet Misty, a foster child with truly special needs. They saved each other's lives. Kerry could have walked away. Apathy is humanity's most pervasive sickness as far as I'm concerned. I was an inch away from cancelling my gig with the Comedy/Faith Outreach at Statesville but the reasonable voice in my melon said I couldn't do it. It ended up being one of the most memorable and inspirational days of my life.

Being a messenger can be just being there. Sometimes it's huge. Other times it's just a smile. Sometimes it's adopting a foster child. It might be giving hope and a laugh to some guys who may never see freedom again. It may be being with someone you love, knowing in your heart that the story is going to have an unhappy ending and staying anyway. My wife stayed with me when I was drunk, pissing the bed, screaming, useless and pathetic. She saw something in me I didn't have the capacity to grasp. She calls it an aura. I'll let her explain that in another blog.

Everyone knows that I am a Beatles fan but I'm a John Lennon Freak. His music was light years ahead of its time. His activism unmatched, his complexity noted, his genius real and his passion to the bone. Through some luck and some messages I became friends with May Pang, Lennon's companion and love during the so called "Lost Weekend Years" of 1973-1975. May was hand picked by Yoko Ono to look after John and keep him out of trouble for a while. She did all that, and more. I had a "Lost Decade." May inspired John and was much more than a personal assistant. They were the real deal. From everything I have read, John was playing pretty hard out in California and May kept him growing, writing and getting himself together for creating some of his best stuff.

The point of bringing her up is to first thank her for her generosity in the memorabilia we have spoken of that she is sending me. I truly loved John. I feel her love for him. She had to know there was going to be an end of the line. The proverbial crash into the brick wall was inevitable. I wouldn't dare ask her that but she knew. I feel he loved her too. Look at the pictures from then of him with her and Ringo, George, Harry Nillson, Keith Moon and the whole crazy crew. John looked really happy again. May stayed for all 15 rounds until the knock out and still walks around with dignity and grace, respecting his memory and legacy straight down the line. Her new book "Instamatic Karma" is filled with her photos and cool insights. Hopefully, she will be in Chicago soon. She has also inspired me to launch the "Every Day Is A Gift Radio Blog." Coming soon! Details by May.

From Kerry to May, to you, and you, and you! We all have something positive to add to the world. Sometimes it's saying the right thing or nothing at all. Sometimes it's climbing a mountain or having the cocoa ready at the bottom. It may be building a castle or holding a nail. It can be just being there when you don't want to be. It can be facing your fear when you're dying to run. It can be sticking it out when you know there's a chance you're going to run into a brick wall. Karma is simple. You get out what you put in. If you live in apathy don't be shocked that no one cares what's going on in your world. MAKE LIFE HAPPEN! HAVE A DAY! That felt good. Let's try that again after we go make someone smile.

STATESVILLE! My First Invitation to Prison and I Didn't Want To Leave.....

I was part of the "Comedy Faith Outreach" Ministry Tour that did a show at Statesville Prison. The program was conceived by comic, and spiritual leader George "Milkdud" Poe, and coordinated on Statesville's end by the unforgettable prison Chaplain Adamson. The Comedy/Faith Ministry has already visited Dwight Women's Correctional Institution and will be heading to Danville Prison a week from today. I was honored to be a part of that show. It changed the direction of my career dramatically and I hope it changed some young men's future choices as well.

I have been in a jail before. I have even spent a night in one or two before. No, it wasn't for a charity fundraiser but the jail did raise some funds from my personal overnight stays and the required fees for me to be released. PRISON is a different universe. Statesville Prison is another dimension. Let me put it this way. Statesville is an enigma wrapped in ah....whatever that thing Churchill talked about during the war, but just add some really heavy vibes, killers, thieves, murderers, rapists and some guys who made some really poor choices. It was an unforgettable day for me and I hope it was for them too. I was one of 7 comedians and a headliner, plus an emcee and Minister. Lets start from the beginning.

Pulling into Statesville, you are quickly deceived by the tranquil drive outside of the massive maximum security that stands a quarter mile from the perky entrance. I felt like I was heading down Forest Gump's driveway. The words Statesville are written out neatly in big stones. I wanted to grab a couple of the big fellers and put em' in my drawers because I realized trying to humor 300 inmates, who may never see freedom again, was like having a mild stroke at a morticians convention. They would all just be staring at me, waiting for their moment. I pulled into the staff lot and could see the armed guards waving down at me. I wish it was with their teeth. My smile was much more disarming as I was unarmed.

I went into the visitor center and checked in with a sergeant who didn't know about the show. Government didn't work on the inside either. That gave me comfort in my choice to join the band of merry makers. Chaplain Bishop came out and greeted me along with Tom Dykstra, Ray Fisher and Salty Peters. Milkdud Poe, our emcee and minister for the show's end, wasn't there yet. We were waiting for Poe, Patrick Bagdon, Jay Washington and headliner Lady Lunchabell.

I really wasn't as nervous as I thought I would be. I had been in cuffs a few times, was comfortable around weapons and hung out with some bad guys back in the booze and dope days. The cool thing was that back then, I would spend the night hopped up and paranoid that I could get busted for an assortment of things that I was doing. I was clean the day of the show. I knew I was going home and I was eyeing up a couple of the weaker comics like we were gazelle in the Serengeti. If someone was going down it wasn't going to be me. I had been doing leg crunches all week and had a reverse chastity belt made for the gig. The only thing I feared was a skeleton key.

Chaplain Adamson was not what I pictured. I was the idiot picturing Spencer Tracy in a collar and whites. No. Adamson was part Jeff Bridges, part Chuck Norris and part Dennis Hopper, but with a theological bend instead of an existential one. He was cool, all the way from his pony tail to his snake skin boots. I wanted this guy on my side if I was dying or in a bar fight. After we left I saw why he needed all these characteristics to survive, and thrive, with a positive message in a pretty dark place. The chaplain also had a great sense of humor...I think. Being April Fool's Day he told the 300 inmates we were performing for that we were theologians from around the country, coming in for a round table discussion.

Our fearless leader George Poe, Patrick Bagdon and Jay Washington arrived and we began our walk to the gymnasium for the "theological symposium." The walk took about 4 days. I would have been thrilled with a "Green Mile." This was a "Red faced 2!" I walked the line and hummed the Johnny Cash song, keeping my head down. The chaplain kept us cool with funny stories and the guys we met were very respectful. I tried to act like I was just one of them. I was for a couple years as I recall. I was proud to be part of a show that was sending a positive message to these men and glad that I had the stones to commit to doing it. I will do it again. Milkdud, you have my word.

We entered the gymnasium to a largely minority group of males, who at first looked pissed that we weren't imams or monks or bishops. I thought I would piss myself but I didn't want to rust the chastity belt and create a possible weakness in one of the hinges. Adamson had a podium and 8 chairs sprawled out in front of our captive audience. He is a truly inspiring guy with the perfect demeanor for a difficult job.

As I sat and listened to the first few comics do their sets, I was people watching. I can't speak for other comics or actors but I literally could watch people for hours on end. My favorite part of air travel is the terminal, not the flight. Human behavior is fascinating. I saw these guys as men, not inmates. I wondered to myself what they had done to get there. Out of the 300 I saw, one young man was barely 20. I have belts that old. A haggard old gentleman of about 90 sat calm and chiseled with life experience. I also saw two people I recognized from recovery groups I had attended with in the past. I was floored. My life's troubles seemed like whining suddenly. I won't speak on the morality of the deeds the men did but they were paying their dues to society.

It EASILY could have been me sitting there and one of those guys telling jokes. I just didn't get caught. I got the breaks. I was leaving that night to have a nice dinner not mystery meat and beans-n-rice. You become very aware of how blessed you are after being in a prison. We were allowed to bring in a piece of paper and an I.D. That was it. No Tic-Tacs, Chapstick, Blackberry or bubble gum. We take for granted how we can just reach into our pocket for some Bazooka or an Atomic Fire Ball. These guys would love to have that just once in a while as a TREAT.

After Tom, Ray and Salty did funny, well received sets. Then it was my turn. A calm came over me. I opened with a bit about this being my first sold out gig and that after reviewing all the restrictions on material, I was left with only Knock, Knock jokes. I told a few more and went on to talk about my alcoholism at 17, homelessness at 32, 4 marriages and now an acting and comedy career starting to take off at age 45! I'm in "The Chicago Code" with "Flashdance" knock-out Jennifer Beals, blah, blah. The point being that I never gave up, even when I wanted to die.

Hell, I used to pray to die! Literally, as the roaches crawled on me. I told them to have faith in the goodness of their God because He saved my ass for some reason. I am nobody special but we all have our burdens to face each day and we have to keep our chins up and move forward. I didn't make light or try to intimate that I had a clue as to what they were facing, but I did tell them that we all are in prison within our hearts and minds. Some of us do it in jail. Some at Walmart. Some of us alone in our bed. Life is for living, no matter what your circumstances are. No man is better or worse than the next in God's eyes. We have all failed. We will all stand before Him and account for our actions individually.

Jay Washington came out and tore the house down. He is one of Chicago's hottest! Patrick Bagdon was feeling a little under the weather but I admire the fact that he showed up to the gig and kept his word. That's a pro. Of course, Lady Lunchchabell had them rolling in the aisles and I just soaked it all in. George "Milkdud" Poe wrapped up with his words of faith, surrender, hope and redemption. He hit all the good stuff. He has a gift for comedy but more importantly, faith. It was the most memorable show I have ever done. Then came the twist...

As we finished it seemed like, we/I shook hands with all 300 men who were in that sweaty gymnasium. I was not concerned about why they were there. I was glad I had made them laugh and given them a moment or two of hope. It might have been the high point of their day. As I said earlier, the restrictions on our material made me take a hard look at my set and write comedy that could play anywhere from a church to a nursing home and it felt good. It also taught me that we are all screw ups, some just get caught. Some of us are screwed up and live in a prison of our own, in our own private universes that we call our lives.

About half way through the hand shaking, a young man stopped by and said he was inspired by my message from addict to actor/comic, faith and hope and asked if I would give him my autograph. Any comic or actor remembers the first time someone asks for their autograph. At least I will. This was my first. It was not an ego feeding moment. He asked me to sign his bible where he had written some encouraging, sad, desperate and cheerful thoughts over the years for inspiration. There were a lot of notes. I was moved to a little tear, and certainly wasn't going to take that moment to scrawl in 2 inch letters, "GREAT TO MEET YOU MY MAN, ALL THE BEST TOMMY CONNOLLY", especially in a Bible. I took it as a message to keep my ego in check and that I can deliver a clean show and message that is funny and uplifting. God has a sense of humor. For the first autograph request in my career, I merely wrote next to his notes "Faith Not Fear." I printed it like it was for a 1st grade school paper. That's how humbled I was by the moment. I was proud that my words touched the young man. I was moved to humbly print in pencil a word of encouragement to him and pray that he finds a new path when he gets back on the other side of the wall - if he gets to the other side of the wall.

I was glad to be a human on this earth, trying to get along on this troubled ball of pain and confusion we know as Earth. God Bless. Never did I think, EVER, that my first request for my John Hancock would be in the words of God! I had a goal of reading the Bible cover to cover the first year of my sobriety. I had a Gideon's Bible from one of the crack hotels I lived in during the late 90's. Every night I would scribble a line or two about my feeling after reading a few pages. It became a sort of diary in the footnote of that Bible from my "Lost Years." I finished reading it from Genesis to Revelations that year and I have a journal of my first year of sobriety.

That young man saying I gave him inspiration and putting a few words of hope in his Bible made that whole thing come full circle. My pain wasn't wasted years fully realized in a moment. Good luck to all of you. Bishop Adamson, keep slinging the word and riding that white pony. You are a tribute to the profession, a great messenger and I am amazed you can walk around with a Bible in one hand and 50 pound cahones weighing you down all with a smile in your heart.

To Milkdud, The Bishop, Jay, Lady, Patrick, Salty, Tom, Ray and "The Comedy Faith Outreach" Tour and Ministry: thanks for letting me be a part of such an amazing day. I will never forget it. Amen.