When Prayers Aren't Enough To Save A Friend

When Prayers aren’t enough to save a friend

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 prodding 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 friend 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 away 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 except say "I love you, and I'm here for you."

I Want My Sausage AND Peppers!...I Want What I Want, When I Want It!

I Want My Sausage WITH Peppers AND Onions! (Original Unedited)

As a person in recovery, long after the booze and dope is out of your system you begin to live life the way it's really coming at you.  The years of escaping are gone. You begin relearning who you are. There are incredible moments of growth and personal victories as you discover life on its terms. When your emotional IQ has been frozen in time by the effects chemicals have had on it,  it takes time in catching up with your body and actual age when you get sober. There are times when as a recovering alcoholic-addict, or maybe just as a human, I see myself regress. The difference between the using me and the recovering me is that I can reflect on my actions and be confident that I don't have to use over the rush of emotions. Then I review my day to search out the real cause of my emotional  backslide.

I had one of THOSE days yesterday. I am working on a benefit for a dear friend and things were not going MY WAY. This is the great distress of any addict. It was one thing after another. With each rejection for a donation I was getting more irritable and I did not sleep well the night before. I have been nursing a pain in my side that I am convinced is either a twisted fallopian tube, Tay Sachs or Sickle Cell. As I made my calls and was pummeled with unsympathetic replies I was making notes for my memorial service.

My son came home and asked if I wanted him to start dinner. As a budding chef, I jumped at his offer. The menu for the night was to be hot Italian sausage (sossage for those outside of Chicago) with onions and peppers on hoagie rolls. This is fine dining in my world. Soon the house was filled with the sweet smells of the "Holy Trinity" of cooking and the crackling sounds of what would be a culinary combination that rivals only corned beef and cabbage and surf-n-turf.

I was feeling a little better as I prepared to sit down at the table, knowing a great meal was moments away, and the nearly extinct family sit down was at hand. My boy was starving and had one of the tasty creations as we waited for the queen to get home. I started wrapping up my work and waited for the dogs to rush the office door downstairs, a sure sign that Squeaky was home. Within minutes there she stood ravenous and beat. She had been through a similar day at the office as I had.

I know my wife has had a rough day when she drops her things, grabs a plate and a drink and makes her way straight to the table. I finished sending out some follow-up emails. I could see my son was already sitting down with yet another sausage slathered with peppers and onions. Squeaky made hers and asked me if I wanted her to make mine. From behind the screen, as I was hitting send, I eagerly replied, "yes".

I logged off  my computer. I took my usual spot at the dining room table and folded my hands for grace. I thanked the LORD for his blessings, and some other points I needed to hit, and opened my eyes. I looked down at my plate to see a poor naked sausage shivering alone on my hoagie roll! I was horrified! Speechless! I looked at my wife and son stuffing the falling bits of pepper and onion back onto their sandwiches. Then glanced back down at my lonely, naked, orphaned pork delicacy.

My emotions ran rampant! I was filled with jealousy, hurt and deep resentment. I was left out. Why hadn't I gotten any peppers and onions? Upon questioning my wife dryly replied, "Sorry I finished em'. There weren't that many left. You can have some of mine if you want." 'IF YOU WANT.' The words rang in my ears like I was taking the last dime from a starving orphan! I was doing the math in my head and concluded that my son had TWICE his allotted share of peppers and onions! I sat for a moment at the  wiener mocking me from my plate with disdain. Who are these people at this table? Are there pods under their beds?!

You can't have french fries without ketchup! There is no peanut butter without jelly! I will not eat green eggs and ham! It was all there and I was pouting. I didn't say a word but my face spoke volumes. Eating the naked sausage felt like sacrilege. I didn't make a peep. That's a rarity for me.  They both knew I was unhappy but munched along in happy oblivion.

After dinner I mentioned to my wife that my feelings were hurt. When I was using I would have made a scene or stormed out the door with my excuse to get high completely rationalized. I realized I was tired. I knew I was smarting from the donation rejections from earlier in the day. Trying to help a friend with little success was the real thing that was making me agitated. The peppers and onions were just my emotional tipping point. I went up to bed early and spent some time talking to Squeaky. Addicts like me tend to dwell on the sausage not on the pig.

When I woke up today my message box was filled with offers of donations from friends and strangers from around the country. There were paintings, golf rounds and financial support. The response was overwhelming. Who needs PEPPERS?!

Everyday I learn more about myself and I'm growing.  Sometimes I take a few steps back, but that's okay if I don't dwell on the negative and continue to move forward. My addictions want to draw me back into dark thinking where it can thrive. I am grateful I have no desire to use but I am sorting through a lot of the "ic" that comes along with being an alcoholic. WE recovering addicts don't get our panties in a bunch over death, divorce and calamity. We do when there's no peppers and onions.

Whitney "Had It All" LAY OFF! ADDICTION is an Equal Opportunity Killer!

I am a recovering alcoholic and an addict. If you follow this blog you know that it revolves around addiction, recovery and the complicated mind of the addict. I have never spoken out on the death of a celebrity. I have written before about friends who have died in recovery, or lost their battle against the cunning and baffling grip that  addiction has on us.

I am not a Whitney Houston sycophant with posters and Cd's. The picture above is of the two 45 RPM records I have of her music from my DJ days. They are both from the mid-80's. Her 1991 performance of the "National Anthem" is the BEST VERSION I have ever heard. I believe she had one of the the greatest voices ever. I, like you, watched her slowly fade away on reality shows and gossip TV moments.

Addiction is more powerful than any person who is a REAL addict. WE can not beat it on our own. I was a full blown drunken addict by 1982 and did not find SOBRIETY, and lasting recovery, until 2009. There was a time when I had alienated all of my family and lost all of my possessions. I slept winters in my unheated car because of the destruction my actions, while high, brought upon on my family and friends. In 1992 I had a DUI with a blood level of .32. I was in a clinical coma and driving. I said I didn't have a problem during my alcohol assessment. That did not stop my drinking.

 I had to drink and use. PERIOD! The devious triangle of the allergy, compulsion and obsession of addiction convinced me to turn my back on loved ones, dreams and even self-preservation to drink and use. I spent years on the merry-go-round of using, coming down, guilt remorse and shame and dreading the fact that I was going to do it again at the next sunrise. Do you really think I would made that choice of freewill? I watched helplessly as a dear friend died of poisoning from spraying insecticide on himself in his flea infested home. He did it so he could drink. He refused to go to treatment. He had been in rehab at least seven times. Is this simple choice? NO!

Would I urinate and vomit on myself, steal, eat garbage and live in an unheated car if it were as easy as just stopping?! Are these the actions of a person of sound mind? Imagine trying to commit suicide daily, but only an inch at a time. That is what addiction IS at the bottom of its' run for the addict or alcoholic who is suffering. It is a horrifying existence filled with isolation and insanity. I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy.

I entered rehab in 1999 and drank 5 years later because I did not do the things REQUIRED to maintain my long term sobriety. I failed to go to recovery meetings, find a spiritual power bigger than myself to guide me and the power of my DISEASE drew me back. I felt after 5 years I was CURED of my addiction. Once an addict like me takes a sip or hit an obsession and compulsion kicks in that we CAN NOT CONTROL. We also can't stay sober alone. There are those who stop using but usually live discontented lives because they have not treated the fears, traumas, insecurities,  resentments and baggage that ALL addicts are plagued by.

I have sat in recovery meetings with surgeons on my left and drunken street people on my right. Both were at different phases of their sobriety. Addiction doesn't care if you're Whitney Houston or if you sleep on heating grates on State Street. It ravages the wealthy and the penniless.

Whitney had fame, money, fast cars and vacation homes. She also suffered with the DISEASE of addiction. She was trying to get clean. She may have failed, but she was trying. No one would trade the comforts I have just listed for the misery of addiction. Thousands of people die a year from this disease. The Holy Bible is the "Most Published" book in the world. The book they use in alcohols 12 step program is NUMBER TWO.

If she had cancer you would have sympathy. If she had diabetes you would say,"how sad it was that the disease took her so young." Her death is tragic. She was young, beautiful and had an amazing gift from GOD. Drugs and Alcohol becomes more important than ANYTHING in her world. The gift of recovery elluded her. America has a problem with addiction from both illegal and prescribed drugs and alcohol. It is nearing epidemic proportions.

Do me a favor. The next time you have the runs hold it. That's it. Just hold it for 5 minutes. That discomfort and pain, that verges on insanity in your mad dash to get to the washroom, is what I used to feel like when the urge to use came upon me. It was bigger than me. I had no choice, even when I tried to quit alone, I always got pulled back in! Educate yourself on addiction. I'm sure you know a drunk or an addict. You may be or live with one. Is it funny? Take their picture and post it on FACEBOOK with the horrible, misguided comments you have seen.

Whitney does not get a free pass. If she was working a recovery program, honestly and fearlessly, she should have taken proper steps. She should have avoided certain places that were addiction triggers. Hang around the Barber Shop too long and a hair cut is guaranteed. Do not judge what you don't understand.

Pray for Whitney Houston and her family, particularly her young daughter. Pray for all the other addicts and alcoholics who die alone or are living in the daily tortured existence of addiction. Then pray that it doesn't happen to you, your kids or a loved one. I assure you that if it does the jokes won't come as easy.

Rally's and Ally's and a "BOSS" Day!

Rally's and Alley's a "BOSS" DAY!

Time: 8:00 am. I'm sitting in Joliet's Hotel Plaza restaurant in the heart of the city, just across from the library. It's been here forever. I'd call it a diner. This is my kinda joint. It's no frills, good food and great prices. The place has a feel about it. It breathes. You can feel the history as you slide into your booth, sticking halfway into place. 

There's a handful of tables and the prerequisite single stool bar. A couple of regulars checker the place. The waitress knows everyone by name and what they want as they sit down. She treats me like she's known me for years as she offers me coffee, a menu and my choice of newspapers. That's service.

I know what I'm going to order. I am a creature of habit. It'll be two eggs over medium with hash browns and ham well done. She takes my menu and flashes a smile while tucking it under her arm and spinning toward the kitchen. It's waitress ballet. I have been here, and by here, before as both an alcoholic/addict and in recovery. In a few short hours I will be standing in front of the Will County Board, the County President and State's Attorney. I feel my nerves and blood pressure beginning to build.

The men's room is just around the corner from where I am sitting. I can't help but notice a group of photos hanging in a bunch along the way. They have shot an episode of "Boss," the new Kelsey Grammer series debuting this fall on STARZ here. There is a picture of Kelsey and an autographed pic of Director Mario Van Peebles on a bulletin board along with some other celebrities. I smile, grateful that I have been blessed to work on a 4 episodes of the show. Several of the episodes are directed by Mr. Van Peebles. I am a featured extra as a school teacher in one episode. The irony is staggering knowing that in years gone by I have bought drugs not far from this very spot. I have also talked to struggling addicts here trying to get their lives together.

I return to the table and my food awaits. The egg whites are cooked but runny. Perfect. I have no idea what I am going to say when they present the County Proclamation to me as Spokesman and Emcee of "Rally Round Recovery 2011." I know God will give me the words when my moment comes. I just hopes he gives me good ones. Whatever they are, they will be grateful ones. I skim the newspaper and am careful not to get food on my clothes. I am a slob. I am the guy who drops a meatball down his shirt even when he's not eating a meatball.

I pay my tab and tip the waitress. I begin to make my way toward the courthouse only to realize that the event is at the county building. Joliet has changed so much in the last 20 years. The downtown area is gorgeous. I stroll past alleys where I once looked for "dates" or chemical escape, happy to be alive and sober. The sun is shining and I am on the right side of the street. I have a choice today not to use. There was a time when I had no choice. I begged my addiction to spare me for the day but it always managed to find a reason to beat me into submission again and again. Not today.

I arrived at the Will County Commission building before nine. One of the beauties of sobriety is I am not late. I greet Robert Snipes and Paul Lauridsen, organizers and bigwigs from Stepping Stones Recovery home and Southwest Alliance for Recovery. We sat in the gallery amongst the political elite. It was fascinating watching the District Commissioners talk in millions like you and I would talk in hundreds. I loved the fact that a prayer was done before the session. Forget Church and State. I want God to bless any meeting that has to do with my money!

As they called us up and Commissioner Dralle called me to the podium I was still shaking. Representative Larry Walsh handed me the plaque recognizing "Rally Round Recovery 2011" and September as National Recovery month. I thanked the commissioners and council members for their support and for having me there by invitation, not by SUBPOENA! It was a truly humbling moment, and one I will never forget.

I can't recall what I said beyond the joke. My recovery mentor says if I don't remember when I speak in situations like that it came from the heart or GOD, not me. I like that. In a few moments we were whisked off and the next group to be recognized was ushered up to the podium. I was still shaking.

David Brenner told me if you don't get butterflies before a performance get out of the business because it means you've lost your passion. I believe that. I have a genuine passion in sharing my story to let people know they are not alone but can not do it alone. The 28 years I suffered through and put my family through were hell. I see more and more in my sobriety as I help others in recovery and those with depression issues that those days were not spent in vain. I would not wish that hell on ANYONE.

As each day goes by and I share my message of hope, faith and the wonders of sobriety I am giving away what was given to me by those who came before me. I am a garden variety drunk and addict with a cool job. I am grateful to GOD that he continues to give me work in the business. I love both acting and comedy. I get my greatest satisfaction showing people the wonders of sobriety and living with the choice not to use

HEROin is an Epidemic and it's your Neighbors not just the HOODS!

There's a HEROin Epidemic and it's NOT JUST other NeighborHOODS!

This is an unedited version of a blog I wrote in September 2011 after "Rally Round Recovery in Joliet, Illinois. It came full circle this last week. Government can work. People don' speak out enough when it does. It did with the passing of SB 1701!!



 "Rally Round Recovery 2011" was a huge success. There was a lot of hope, strength and love in the air that afternoon. I was humbled and honored when asked to be Spokesman and emcee of such a special event. I was thrilled to speak with Senators, Congressmen, Commissioners, Judges and public servants who genuinely care about the addiction epidemic gripping our county, city, state and nation.

I will never forget meeting the Dr. John Roberts' Family who lost their son BILLY to a heroin overdose while friends unknowingly left for a baseball game. Billy was not an addict or junkie lost on the street. He TRIED heroin. Does he look like your child? Does he look like the boy next door?

Dr. Roberts' family is fighting for legislation (SB 1701) that grants temporary immunity for those who try to help save the life of someone overdosing on drugs or alcohol. There are those who shout, "they are breaking the law!" I say, "yes they are, but they do not deserve to die over an addiction or poor choice."

 It's a family affair. His beautiful wife and daughter Amanda worked the rally making certain that every person within earshot got information about heroins leaching onto suburbia. Dr. Roberts visits schools and civic organizations to inform parents and school officials on the rampant use of heroin by suburban CHILDREN today. He is a tireless advocate. He has turned his pain over the loss of his son into a mission of hope and change to let other parents know, YES IT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU.

Their organization "Be a HERO save a life", (Heroin Epidemic Relief Organization) is fighting to change legislation. Check out BEAHEROFOUNDATION.ORG. Donate to this worthy cause. Drugs are illegal, but if it was your kid wouldn't you want the kids with him or her to call the police instead of watching them die or dumping them in a field to die alone? That is what happens now in Illinois because the caller and the kids with an overdosing person are arrested or are afraid of being arrested.

The plague of Heroin, Bath Salts, Prescription drugs and designer pills is running rampant. America has a pill for everything and our kids see that. They need only go to our medicine cabinets or Grandma's for a couple of pills to trade at school for whatever they need. Wake up! Educate yourself.

You can have a great kid. He or she can get good grades. They may say all the right things. They may go to church. They may walk out the door and do drugs and never come back again. It only takes one try. This is the new reality. If you think it can't happen to you. Call the Roberts family. Billy was an amazing human being. He is saving lives today.

I am pleased to say that both chambers of the Illinois Legislature signed SB1701 the first week of January, 2012.

Governor Pat Quinn Signed it into Law last Monday....Way To go Dr. Roberts and family! You guys are all HEROES! Billy is smiling....

Kudos to the Illinois State Legislature and all those involved with getting this life saving law enacted. You too are heroes....

There's a HEROin Epidemic and it's NOT JUST other NeighborHOODS!

This is an unedited version of a blog I wrote in September 2011. It came full circle this last week. Government does work. People don' speak out enough when it does. I'm saying it right here!



 "Rally Round Recovery 2011" was a huge success. There was a lot of hope, strength and love in the air that afternoon. I was humbled and honored to be Spokesman and emcee of such a special event. I was thrilled to speak with Senators, Congressmen, Commissioners, Judges and public servants who genuinely care about the  addiction concerns facing our county, city, state and villages.

I will never forget sharing the painful story of Dr. John Roberts' Family who lost their son BILLY to a heroin overdose while friends left for a baseball game. Dr. Roberts' family is fighting for legislation (SB 1701) that grants temporary immunity for those who try to help save the life of someone overdosing on drugs or alcohol. For those who say they are breaking the law! I say yes they are, but they do not deserve to die. It's a family affair. His beautiful wife and daughter Amanda worked the rally making certain that every person within earshot got information about heroins latching onto suburbia.

Their organization "Be a HERO save a life", (Heroin Epidemic Relief Organization) is fighting to change legislation. Check out BEAHEROFOUNDATION.ORG. Donate to this worthy cause. Drugs are illegal but if it was your kid wouldn't you want the kids with him or her to call the police instead of watching them die or dumping them in a field to die alone? That is what happens now in Illinois because the caller and the kids with the overdosing person are arrested or are afraid of being arrested.

The plague of Heroin, Bath Salts, Prescription drugs and designer pills is running rampant. America has a pill for everything and our kids see that. They need only go to our medicine cabinets or Grandma's for a couple of pills to trade at school for whatever they need. Wake up! Educate yourself.

You can have a great kid. He or she can get good grades. They may say all the right things. They may go to church. They may walk out the door and do drugs and never come back again. This is the new reality. If you think it can't happen to you. Call the Roberts family. Billy was an amazing human being. He is saving lives today.

I am pleased to say that both chambers of the Illinois Legislature signed SB1701 the first week of January, 2012.

Governor Pat Quinn Signed it into Law last Monday....Way To go Dr. Roberts and family! You guys are all HEROES! Billy is smiling....

Kudos to the Illinois State Legislature and all those involved with getting this life saving law enacted. You too are heroes....

There's No Extra STEPS in Parenting....

SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself (PREVIEW)

Amazon-Kindle-soulparole.com MARCH-2012

Step Parent? Stepson? There Are NO Steps, Only Parents and kids...

Sometimes I think there should be a recovery program for being a stepparent, or the child of one. I am both. It has been both the most difficult and rewarding experience of my life, more so than my battle with addiction and recovery.

The word "STEP" in front of “parent” or ‘child’ is as ridiculous as the term "holy war," or "amicable divorce,” because it implies a barrier between the parent and child and sets up a preconceived notion of separation between the two. When someone mentions, “stepmother,” I remember poor Cinderella being run ragged by hers. As for "stepfather,” I think of those horror movies where the guy is all cheesecake and smiles when his wife is in the room and pure evil when he's alone with her child.

My first experiences with a "stepparent" happened when I was six. I thought my father’s new wife was pretty and polite, but she brought along three daughters. I was the only boy, so I was either the lucky one or the odd man out. There were feelings of envy and jealousy at the thought of sharing my father, but I think that is pretty normal for a little kid. I also had a "stepfather," for a short time, and he would be a good candidate for the nasty character I described earlier in this posting.

After enduring the loss of two children to miscarriage in my previously failed marriages, I was angry with God for not giving me kids of my own. I prayed over and over, but the answer was always, “No,” or so I thought at the time. Little did I know He had a plan for my life, and when he didn't follow "my" plan, I thought I was getting a raw deal. My father never called his new wife's daughters "step," just daughters. I noted that early on, and it made a lasting impression on me.

When I moved in with Squeaky, I became "instafather." The position has advantages and definite disadvantages. When things were great it was, "I love you DA!" When things weren't so good, the ever popular, "You aren't my Dad!" flew like death darts. I would be less than honest if I didn't point out I pulled the same trump card early in our marriage with comments like, "YOUR Daughter “and “YOUR Son...."

As a parent to my kids, I have made lots of mistakes, both when I was drunk and when I was sober, and I always will because I am human. However, there were benefits from my “dad once removed, DNA-free relationship with my kids.” When they were small, I told them they had a father, and I wasn't trying to replace him. They adopted an affectionate nickname the Irish use, “DA,” instead of the American "Pa.” I told them they could talk to me as a friend, rather than their dad, but that I wanted their respect as the man of the house and their mother's husband.

I have different relationships and memories with each of them. I was there for Bro's first day of school. I will never forget his adorable look of excitement mixed with a touch of terror as I left him behind on that first day of kindergarten. Bro has referred to me as his DA and stepdad, depending on his entourage, and I am comfortable with either title. I know he loves me.

My middle daughter, Sunny was, and is, close to her father. Once, when Sunny and I were at a doctor's office, a man commented that she "looked just like me." We smiled and thanked him for his kind words, then laughed our butts off in the car at the congenital comparison. We had many challenges during our years of growing up together. Now we are the best of friends.

Hemingway, my oldest, calls me, “Dad,” and that makes me feel good. I was proud to take Hemi to the "Daddy/Daughter" dance her senior year. Her father has little interest in her, but I hope that changes some day. I will be happy to share her with him, but she will always be “Daddy's little girl” to me.

Growing up, my relationship with my "stepmother" was up and down. She was patient and always cordial to me, but I could sense her frustration because I always ran to Daddy when I was in a pinch or needed money. She was the “tough love” type, so I’m sure my frequent requests caused disagreements between Dad and her. I am grateful my father assisted me, yet, in my addictive manipulation, I often took advantage of his willingness to help.

During my father's illness (He was in the hospital nine times during the last two years of his life), my second mom and I grew very close. We spoke freely of my addictions and the challenging personality my father brought to their relationship. She loved him, and I could see why he spent his life with her. Today we are close friends, and I love her deeply.

If you are a "stepparent" I feel ya! If you are not, please don't judge us until you have walked a block in our shoes. I do not see my biological daughter as much as I would like to, but that is a story for another day. That will work itself out in God's time. I have two mothers, four sisters and four kids. There are no "steps" between us.

God often gives us what we want; it's just not the way "we" want it. I am blessed to be a second father to my wife's kids, and I have adopted my father's policy of no "steps" when I speak of them. Dad, thanks for the life lesson. I miss you! God, thanks for giving me the children. I have given up on trying to figure you out, but am grateful you understand me….

Sailing without a Compass IS for Dummies....

In recovery WE learn straight away that using was a symptom of our thinking problem. We get ourselves so "overthunkified" that life gets unbearable and we need to escape our minds and discomfort of our own skin. The world and its occupants don't seem to understand us and OUR order of things, so WE go mad trying to change the universe and everyone in it. Strangers are included. People on the TV, or halfway across the planet, catch our attention as equally as the old lady standing next to us at Piggly-Wiggly.

As we work through our baggage and find peace within and outside of ourselves we have flashes of serenity. When I have it,  MAN I love it! It's all CONTINGENT upon how well I am keeping in touch with my GOD, my moral compass. When I am good with him everything is alright. Being good with him means PRAYING, asking for guidance and help with my shortcomings as a human.I've got quite a pile. I also have some pretty cool stuff to work with. I have to trust him. He's got the plan. I do the foot work. The small still voice is clearly audible now.

As an addict I need repetition in recovery like I did in active addiction. I used to rationalize my own
self-destruction daily for over twenty eight years. Along the way I obviously developed some unhealthy thinking about the world and myself. Three years clean and I'm just starting to crawl.

In the last few weeks I've been restless, irritable and discontent. I can see it in every corner of my world. My desk is covered with half finished projects and piles of books and CD's. It is an accurate snapshot of the chaos that is building inside me. My comments and jokes to friends are sarcastic. I'm isolating. That is a premeditated recipe for misery at the best and using to death at its' worst.

Recovery is a really simple design for living for people who really love complicating things. I sure do. If you break recovery down to it's simplest elements beyond NOT USING its:

TRUST GOD!
Worry About YOU!
Try to HELP OTHERS!

It is so simple and I can blow em' all before I get out of bed! I am grateful that I don't have the urge to use. I still very clearly have a lifetime of work to do on me and in helping others. I LOVE HELPING OTHERS! I can get so paralyzed by ME that I do nothing. When I get to these points I need to get back to the basics and the 3 SIMPLE rules of living above.

Sometimes doing the right thing for me is just getting out of bed and taking the time to say, "Good Morning God! Thanks for waking me up. You take it from here." Then going to a meeting or work. It gets that simple or that complicated. If I think beyond that I get "overthunkified" and I want to crawl back under the covers and I get nowhere....

STATEVILLE PRISON-"You Make Those Guys Laugh You're Funny."-Brenner

STATEVILLE! My First Invitation to Prison and I Didn't Want To Leave.....(original unedited copy 12/10)

 Soul Parole:Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself  (PREVIEW)

I was part of the "Comedy Faith Outreach" Ministry Tour that did a show at Stateville 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. Stateville 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 startfrom the beginning.

Pulling into Stateville, 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 Stateville 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 seefreedom 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.

SQUEAKY HAD A BABY at the "Chicago Code" PREMIERE!

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the.........Chicago Code Premiere!

A funny thing happened on the way to the Chicago premiere of "The Chicago Code." The show starts Monday February 7, 2011, at 9pm on FOX. The first month of ratings will determine if there is a season two. I'm sure there will be because the show ROCKS! It has obvious appeal to Chicagoans, being shot entirely in the city and 'burbs. The story line, edgy feel, great writing and acting by Jennifer Beals, Jason Clarke, Delroy Lindo, Matt Lauria and the rest of the cast, create a dynamic that is attractive to any audience, in any market.

I pray for a second season, not only for the work, but because the cast and crew are amazing. We need your support for this show, every week, so we get picked up for a second season! I ended up on the editing floor in the pilot, but that's show biz. I am proud to have been a part of several episodes, starting with episode 2. From the first day I walked onto the set I could feel that I was a part of something special. All the cast and crew bonded immediately and working 14 hour days became fun, no matter how physically exhausting.

   Photo Courtesy Twentieth Century Fox Television

The premiere party was held at Hollywood Boulevard Theatre in Woodridge. The place was packed with cast and crew and local news crews were on hand to interview some of the VIP's. Hosted by the amazing Darlene Hunt and daughter Rachel, we were greeted with gifts and an air of excitement. It was my first official premiere as an actor and my head was bobbing like a kid in a candy store. I can't tell you much about the show but the shots of Chicago, great acting and fresh plot are sure to make the show a hit. I am truly grateful to be a part of such an amazing project. But that is not where the story begins or ends.

A good friend of mine, and fellow "Chicago Code" actor, Edward Majka doesn't drive. He called me early in the afternoon to see if we could pick him up at the Downers Grove train station and get him to the premiere. I obliged and we set out early to gather up my friend. On the way I asked Squeaky if she wanted Starbucks - her liquid crack. She said no and we navigated the icy streets of Downers Grove to rendezvous at the train station. I have mentioned I have O.C.D. about being late and we arrived 30 minutes before Edward was due to arrive.

There is another Starbucks strategically located on Main Street, right across from the station. I told my wife I wanted a cup of Joe and that it was a great place to meet Edward. We purchased our coffees and I picked up the new Greg Allman CD "Low Country Blues." Four stars I might add. It is a must for Blues aficionado's. As I added sugar, cream and cinnamon to my steamy beverage, my wife spotted a flyer with a picture of a cute, wee puppy named Fiona. I was busy ripping the plastic off my Cd and stirring my coffee, running through our time table to make sure we would make the premiere on time.

Being the cynical, losing faith in humans, kinda guy I am, I thought the poster was for a missing dog. I remarked that "Some idiot probably stole the dog and has it up for sale on the Internet as we speak." My wife went on to tell me that the pup, named Fiona, was from a family that had an old dog that couldn't handle the rambunctious little Japanese Chin/Pekingese playmate. They also had a nephew who was allergic to her and it limited his ability to visit his auntie regularly. My wife looked at me. Her eyes spoke volumes. I had seen it before when we rescued Grace! I called the number and asked the owner to meet us back at the coffee shop at 8:30.

We grabbed Edward and shot to the premiere party. Squeaky was speaking in the present tense about Fiona, the 1 1/2 year old, 8 pound Pekingese/Chin. "Do you like her name?", "How do you think she WILL get along with Grace?" I played the straight man telling her to slow down and we would talk about it later. Inside, I am as squishy as wet sand between your toes when it comes to animals. It's humans that seem to rub me the wrong way. As we watched the premiere I could tell Squeaky was already picking out places to put her bed and how to configure the feeding stations in the kitchen. 

After the premiere wrapped up Squeaky began the Ali, "rope-a-dope" on me. "Something called us to that Starbucks. You know that." "She is the same breed as Grace!" I knew that unless the pup was ridden with ticks and fleas, and hungry for the fingers of Italian women, Fiona would be coming home with us. Even if she had all those conditions, we probably would have taken her out of pity and nursed her back to health. When I met Kris, she didn't even care much for dogs. Now we have four. Stay tuned to Hoarders because I see myself in a guest shot soon. I am glad I passed on my love and kindness towards all of God's creatures to my wife and kids. They share the same passions for critters as I do.

At 8:30pm the deal went down in the vestibule of Starbucks. The owner handed my wife the tiny pup, who instantly licked her nose. A Hollywood director couldn't have written it any better. It was over. I had a new pup named Fiona. We got her home and our other female Pekingese/Chin, Grace, was dominating her right from the start. I officiated and introduced Fiona to the pack correctly. As the Alpha Dog I placed her between my legs and the butt sniffing parade began. 

Just like when our kids were small, Squeaky passed out for the night and I was left to comfort our tiny guest. I think I got a total of about 2 hours sleep. Fiona slept between the couch and my back. My fear of squishing her miniature frame had me contorting my body to accommodate her comfort. I'm like butter when it comes to creatures big and small, except bats. We made it through the night with all troops alive and accounted for.

I really do not believe in coincidence. I had the call from Edward for a ride, the stop at Starbucks after my wife turned down my first offer earlier. I also did an episode of "Shameless" where the lead actress is named of course, Fiona. What a night, my first movie premiere gala, the pride of being a part of what is sure to be a hit series, and a new baby in the family. See ya on Animal Hoarders Chicago soon. Until then I would like to welcome, Fiona Apple Schmutzy Connolly!