Two Slices Of Pickle And A Dose Of Reality

A Sliver of Hope, a New Direction and a Genius Idea!

As of this writing Squeaky is cancer free. We have been through some other medical hurdles she has been presented with. We are tighter than ever. This entry was written in September, 2011 when she was facing Kidney Cancer surgery. I am grateful to say she made it through a tough season. She's got game! I am blessed to have her as my BFF.

As an addict my default thinking is usually me. I want the universe and all of its' atoms formed, or random, to revolve around my plans. Whoever came up with the expression "there is no ME in team" was not an addict. I can say that with almost complete certainty. It is not that we don't have feelings for others but that our addiction demands 100% percent of our attention. Once the booze is gone the melon needs to be rewired for healthy thinking.

In recovery I have found that the biggest problem that fueled my years of self-destruction was the love-hate relationship I had with myself. I would wake up each day and hate myself more and more.  My addiction LOVED it. The more I hated me, the more I would turn to chemicals and booze to try and escape MYSELF temporarily. The next day I would wake up with an extra helping of self hate and some physical pain, guilt and shame to throw into the mix. Then the games would begin again for another 24 hours.

For years I thought I was using because the world was all wrong! I realize now that I was using because I was all wrong inside. It was my thinking.  I had a twisted perception on reality. More precisely, I used because the people and atoms of the universe didn't act in a way that met with my satisfaction. As I grow in sobriety I have learned to like myself by accepting the fact that the world will do what it is supposed to do. I accept others as they are. Most importantly I try not to spend too much time alone in my head. It can become a Wall Street riot up there in a jiffy.

Now that I am sober I work with other alcoholics and addicts new to recovery. I perform for fundraisers and causes because I am grateful to give back this gift that was freely given to me. I will never give back enough. God and recovery groups gave me my life, family and a purpose to live back.

Squeaky and I had been going through a rough season leading up to the "Rally Round Recovery 2011." I was working on a film. I had just returned from California after a week of therapy and a shoot for an "Animal Planet" series. I am in final editing of my book Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, God and Myself. I am about to start 2 new films. I was working to promote the premier of "Chasing Hollywood." I was in hyper "ME" mode. This happens in sobriety and reality.

Squeaky's kidney surgery was scheduled for 2 days later. The doctors were not sure if they were going to take a portion of her right kidney or the whole thing. I cleared my schedule of EVERYTHING. I thank God for giving me the sense to do that. I did bring a galley copy of the book that I intended to read as Squeaky lay in recovery. I made arrangements to stay with her while she was in the hospital. They were very accommodating. I never once opened the galley.

As the time passed all I could think about was the stupid arguments leading up until that day and question God about putting her through this instead of me. I was the idiot! My heart was shifting back to center. Why is it that we have to be in a big pile of shite with a loved one,  they're in an operating room or funeral parlor for us to look at how truly dear they are to us? It boggles my mind! We fight about wrapping paper and who ate my cereal? For the love of GOD who cares?!

The surgery went better than we could ever have imagined. They were able to use the Da Vinci robotic surgery method on her, and as the doctor said, "if her kidney were a hamburger we only had to take two pickle slices." It was the greatest horrible analogy I had ever heard.  It did make me a bit crazy that they assign patients numbers now during operations. They have a television you can check like an arrival board at the airport to see if they are "boarding," "on the runway," "ready for takeoff," "inflight," "on the tarmack" and "safely on the ground." Her flight was near perfect.

He said she would be staying for 2 nights. That was okay with me. They would know if it was cancer later in the week. She was medicated.  Her family was there to support her, and me, during the day. It kept me calm. In post-op she smiled and mumbled in tongues. She looked glorious. Every time she moved I jumped afraid she was in pain or going to fall out of bed or needed the nurse. I contorted myself up in the tiny Hobbit like chair and slept with one eye open grateful we dodged a bullet.

Being the real alcoholic I am I spent the hours beating myself up a bit. I also reviewed my behavior and realized I was not sharing enough of the projects I was involved in with my wife. I am proud she appeared with me in "Chasing Hollywood." It can be seen in its entirety on youtube. My Squeaky is on IMDB as Pina Connor. That is the Cats Pajamas! But I used to read scripts to her. I used to read all my blogs to her. I used to consult her on every career move I was making as I was making them. Her opinions played into my decisions on what road to take.

I can't tell you what we talked about during her 60 hour stay there. I honestly don't remember. We just talked and laughed like things were early in our relationship. We were focused on each other and I was in the NOW, not so danged worried about the future. We laughed at stupid stuff. She made me stop goofing around because the laughter made her side ache. I fetched ice chips and cups of coffee. I started calling her sliver kidney. She chuckles at the nickname.

Everything I try to do is for the betterment of the family and marriage. When things are going wrong in my life, I need to look at myself first. The problem I often have is that I have a grand plan inside my head. It is carefully crafted. We will work together spreading a message of hope and recovery to alcoholic/addicts and their loved ones. She can't see my thoughts. ACTIONS speak louder than thoughts. God calls the shots. I just show up for each DAYS game and worry less about the season....

Another Beer With Dad....

Another Beer with Dad....

TODAY IS THE SECOND MEMORIAL DAY WITHOUT MY FATHER. I WILL BRING HIM A BEER, LIKE I DID LAST YEAR. IT WILL BE NICE TO WATCH HIM HAVE A COLD ONE....

There are certain concepts that I, as a recovering addict, have to keep at the forefront of my thinking if I am to maintain my sobriety. The most important one is to remember at all times that I am just one drink or drug away from the hell I went through for nearly 28 years. When I wake up in the morning I ask God to get into my head before I do because if I get in first it can be a very long and difficult day.

It doesn't mean that I am going to drink or take a drug. It does mean that addiction is a thinking problem. More specifically it is an over thinking problem. At least for me it is. If I wake up and get my melon into overdrive before my first tinkle, the day is likely to be filled with worry, anxiety, frustration, fear, anger, resentment and all the negative emotions that drove my addiction and depression for years.

I used to escape me, not you. Although I don't use any longer I still find myself following me wherever I go. I have had to forge a new relationship with me based on the things I have learned in recovery. My life is for the most part exactly what I want it to be. I am grateful to be alive and thriving in the acting and comedy world, something that was impossible while using. More importantly, I am a trusted friend, husband, father and son. I also try to help others find their way to the gift of sobriety that I have been given so freely.

That being said, I love days when I am just about to crawl under my Scooby Doo sheets and I realize that I went the whole day NOT realizing I was an addict, alcoholic or depression sufferer. In other words, I made it through the day like an earthling! How cool is that?! It doesn't mean that I take my disease for granted. It means I am getting stronger in my sobriety. I spent 28 years using. It will take the rest of my life untwisting the mess inside my head and those I tried to rewire along the way.

Yesterday was the paradox of that feeling. If you watched the video I posted above, Squeaky and I went to Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery yesterday to "have a beer with my Dad." I stopped at the liquor store and was thrilled that the one I visited allowed for the purchase of just one. It has been two and a half years since I have purchased alcohol and it really had no effect on me. I was on a mission to get my dad a beer. My family knows I am McGyver-like in my focus when there is a mission at hand.

The funny side note to that was I stopped at the local corner store to try to get a can earlier in the morning, having forgotten the Sunday selling restrictions, and the store owner looked at me cockeyed when I asked what time they were open for liquor sales. I quickly said it was for my Dad. I am surprised they stayed in business after I quit the stuff. I know their profits went way down for sure!

The memorial was beautiful. It stopped raining long enough for us to toast Pops. The birds were singing and he has a great view of the forest and a pavilion where they honor the latest Vet to be interred there. In an ironic twist he is right next to a soldier named Jones, my wife's maiden name. That soldier was only 46 years old.

As I spilled the frothy beer into the gravel, the earth seemed to gulp it down with vigor. The soldiers all had a sip along with my dad. As I said my goodbyes I could smell the beer on my hands and it brought memories flooding into my mind; some good, many bad. The good ones were of the many laughs I had with my dad over a few cold ones at many a Bear game and when I worked for him. The bad was for the months, and at one time years, I missed in my alcoholic fog that we didn't speak because he couldn't bare to see me self-destruct.

There was no sadness in the time with him. I spent many hours with him at the end of his life making up for those lost years. I am at peace with my past mainly because I can not change it. I have learned from it and know what not to do so I don't have to live it again. I always like to point out in my blog that I am not anti-alcohol or anti-anything. It's just not for me because I can't stop once I get rolling. One is too many and a thousand isn't enough.

Squeaky chuckled as I wiped my hands in the grass to get the smell off my hands. It was like I was trying to wipe bird poop off my hands. My few moments of discomfort were worth the symbolic enjoyment I am sure my dad got out of that beer. He was probably laughing at me with his unit in heaven while I squished my nose at my skunky, beer soaked hands.

I know how he must have felt during those lost years when he didn't know where I was but knew I was hurting and slowly destroying myself. My middle daughter hasn't been around in a week. She dropped our son off today and didn't even stop in to say hi. She had a hangover. She is lost, but she's an adult. There is little I can do. I can be grateful for my sobriety, pray and have the confidence and faith that I will be of clear mind to help her when she's ready for it. My dad was there when I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I'll be there for her too.

You are what you think....

FOOD FOR THOUGHT....

The Enlisted Protect YOUR FREEDOM! Say THANKS!

My Dad and I had a lot in common. We both shared a passion for the Bears, America and Ireland. We both wore our Irish-American Pride on our shirt sleeves. Making other people laugh made us laugh. I can't count how many Bear games we endured in the 70's, and cheered through, in the 80's and 90's. Lastly, we both served in the United States Armed Forces. My Dad was an Army Sergeant, I spent a short stint in the U.S Naval Reserve between the ages of 40 and 41 during the current conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan.

There were also some stark contrasts. My Pop liked the Cubs. I love the Sox. He was a staunch Republican. I am a little more moderate. I guess you could call me a late blooming hippie with centrist views. He was pro-military period! I saw things from a different perspective. I see now that sometimes conflict is unavoidable.

My Dad loved his days in the service. He did most of his tour in Georgia, and was a radio instructor. He was a model soldier in uniform, He believed in the brotherhood, in and out of it. In a twist of irony his best friend from kindergarten ended up transferring to his base. That's my Uncle Bob. They were so close I was born on the same day as his daughter Kim. Now that's friends!

After the service they remained tight buddies, and Bears season ticket holders, until my pop passed on. Uncle Bob, and I took some of his ashes to the Seattle game in 2010, two months after he went up to hang with Halas and Sweetness. He is a part of every game from the North End Zone. Pulling that off is a story for another day. He would have been proud of my stealth mission.

He is interred at Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery. Some of them were held back for me to take to Ireland's Ring of Kerry. If you ever wonder about the sacrifices that our men and women in uniform give for this country it's worth the trip. Visit ALNC in Elwood, Illinois or Arlington National Cemetery, in Arlington, Virginia. I have had the honor of visiting both. When I was 12 I saw the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Even as a kid it left me awe struck. The sea of white headstones, perfectly sized and in exact formation will drive my point to the center of your soul. It is awe inspiring. The silence is deafening. The sacrifice displayed is humbling.

My stint in the Navy was short. I served out of Glenview. I was in for just over a year. I wanted to serve. My body couldn't handle it. My desire to serve my country was stronger than the demands serving it put on my body. I am grateful for that time. I was honorably discharged shortly there after. My Dad and I weren't even speaking during the time I served. My booze and addiction issues had driven him away. My self-destruction pushed him away. He couldn't bear to see me crash and burn any longer.

I don't care if you are pro-military or pro-peace. No soldier wants to go to war. I believe war should be fought only as a last resort. It should be fought for protecting our country, and the oppressed. It should not be fought for resources or economic gain. In WW1, WW2, Korea and Vietnam thousands of jobs were created with American sweat and pride. Now our country is in the worst shape it's been in since the depression and we don't create jobs HERE?!  It's been over 10 years! Where's Rosey the Riveter?  MADE IN THE USA has been traded for Made in China, or some third world nation. I will never understand that. Feed your family...then feed the world.

Every time I see a person in uniform I take the time to thank them for their service to our Country, AMERICA! I don't care if you are the most ardent anti-war protester on the planet. They fight for your right to speak out. They protect your FREEDOM! Take the time to say thanks for doing, WHAT YOU COULDN'T EVEN DREAM OF!

My Pop would have fought for this country at age 80, in his pajamas. I feel the same way. Thank you to the men and women who proudly serve in the ARMY, NAVY, AIR FORCE, MARINES, U.S. COAST GUARD, and all the RESERVE UNITS. You guys miss time with your families, while I enjoy mine. You eat in tents, while I wonder where I should eat. You die...to protect...Me. Thank you is a gross understatement for the gratitude I have for what you do. You are AMERICAN MADE! On Memorial Day when you're cooking hot dog,s and sucking back suds, take time to give thanks for those who make those good times possible. If a vet needs a hand...give him two. If you are anti-war, thank the man for giving you the right to speak out about hating it....
GOD BLESS YOU ALL! I miss ya Pop....

NOTE TO THE GOVERNMENT: The men and women who protect and serve the greatest nation in the world NEED to be taken care of when they return!  PERIOD! I see too many KIDS with addiction and PTSD issues in recovery. I see yet others wandering the streets in oblivion. Open up the coffers and pay them back for what they gave DEARLY and FREELY to protect us!
They paid their dues...Pay them back with your interest....

One of THOSE Days....

Every day I try to make people smile. I try to post an uplifting picture or quote to get people off to a positive start in the morning. My posts usually revolve around catching dreams, and not giving up. To be completely honest, there are days that I post encouraging words when I'm feeling discouraged.

When I think I'm going to have "one of those days," I DO! Today is a perfect example. I woke up with the world on a string. I was sitting on a rainbow. I posted a few quips, and sent out my "Happy Birthdays," as I sipped my coffee. I was scheduled for a commercial audition that I was looking forward to. I was waiting for the final proof to come back on Soul Parole. I was grateful to know I was going to work tonight. Things were just peachy. Then it happened!

I opened the door to the basement and saw it had flooded from the heavy rains that passed through last night. I knew I had electrical cords on the floor so I had to wait for the sump pump to catch up out of fear of becoming a Crispy Creme. I contemplated building an Ark but didn't know where to get 2 lemurs and 2 sloths! I had to cancel my audition.

As I checked my emails the proof did not come through for the book, and one of the venues that I had hoped to share my message with took a pass. The email I sent to the agency that booked me for the audition came back to my email. I had replied to my own message! It appeared as though I just blew it off. That's not the way I roll. I went from Mr. Sunshine, to Dr. Doom.

When I have days, like today, I always think God is testing me. If not it's the devil trying to kill my spirit. During these moments of uncertainty I have to intentionally stay positive. If I dwell in the negativity over my day I want to go for full blown destruction. I begin to question every facet of my life! Is my marriage good? Should I go to California? Maybe, Tibet! Do the kids like me? That bump on my face is not a zit. It's a tumor that's gonna kill me. Man, it becomes a three ring circus up in my melon!

I tried to put on my game face and called a couple of friends. I have been taught that if I get out of my head, and into helping someone else, I forget my problems in a jiffy. Every call I made was greeted with an answering machine recording. The volcano of self pity was about to blow like Peter Brady's did all over Marcia!

I needed fresh air. I love birds. Hawks are my favorite. I can't stand crows! As I sat looking out of my garage biting my lip, and questioning the heavens, a crow landed on my fence! He was staring right at me! Good Lord! What are you trying to tell me here?! As I feigned a panic attack, a fly the size of a humming bird flew in. I HATE FLIES IN MY HOUSE AND AT RESTAURANTS! It freaks me out.

I slammed the door shut after I got the flying pterodactyl out of my space, and sat down in a lawn chair to catch my breath. As I peered across the lawn to see the ugly crow, he was gone. At that instant a dove landed on the same spot the dark menace had just been. It began to coo. The sound of doves cooing takes me back to summers in Carlyle, Indiana when I was a kid. I would sit on the porch swing for hours in the tiny town just listening to their calls. I dialed another friend that picked up the call. I was coming down off the ledge.

My mind has such a hold on me sometimes, that I think it's the strongest organ in my body. It over takes my heart sometimes. I know it's doing it, but I let it get me anyway! I had to redirect my thinking to pleasant thoughts. I reflected on how lucky I was. My son came home with good news about a college he wants to attend. I looked at my dogs and thought about how happy they make me.

I have learned that life is not "mind over matter." It's mind over WHAT really matters!" I create my own days. No one MAKES us happy. We let them make us happy. Bad days happen. They can be just bad days. I don't have to react like I'm stuck in the steerage level of the Titanic. I just have to make it through the day. The sun will rise tomorrow. The basement will dry. The success of the book will be, or not be. I am alive and have all my needs met.

I can choose to look at the doves and smile, or focus on the crows and flies. It's all in my mind, and I can change that. If that doesn't work I can always go to bed and pray for a dry, crow and fly free day tomorrow. 

FEAR-Face Everything As Real

Fear is a powerful foe. We all have it. I think, it is the second strongest four letter word after love. When I was drinking and using, for 28 years, it ruled my life. Sometimes, it still tries to. Fear stood for "F" Everything And Run! I was afraid of success. I was obsessed with failure. I was paralyzed from reaching out to find sobriety and pursue my passions. It seemed safer to deal with my notions, than knowing the realities.

Before I got out of bed I was gripped with the FEAR of something. Was I gonna get fired? Does my wife love me? Do I love her too much? When am I going to die? Is it gonna hurt? I could conjure up fear over things that were ten years down the road, or ten years past. I was terrified of change. That is, change that I didn't like.

Facing my fears was out of the question. When I didn't feel right, I was sure I was dying. If I saw a person talking, and they looked at me, I was positive that I was the subject of their conversation. They were looking at all my faults. They could see right through me.

When I got sober and accepted the fact that my depression and racing thoughts had to be addressed, I was at a crossroads. I had dealt with it for my entire life. I did so by not dealing with it. I was convinced that if I sought treatment I would be labeled a fruit loop and tossed into the loony bin. There was no way I was going to be called a nut, even though I was going nuts.

When I finally went to see a professional, a funny thing happened. I was told I had a chemical imbalance that could be treated with a mood stabilizer. I wasn't crazy. I just had a condition that required medication, like high blood pressure. I learned that it is quite common.

After I overcame that hurdle I was convinced that my heart, liver and kidneys were shot. My grandfather died of a heart attack at age thirty nine. If I experienced a thump or pain in my chest I was positive that I was going to drop right on the spot. I was better at self diagnosing myself than any specialist in the western world! I chewed on it, day after day, hour after hour. The fear of the unknown kept me from finding out the truth. I almost died of terror at the thought of the visit!

What would Squeaky do without me? I obsessed about the POSSIBILITIES instead of seeking CERTAINTIES. It finally got to the point that SHE couldn't bare my Fred Sanford mentality any longer. "You hear that Gram? I'm coming to join you honey! I got a bum ticker from drinkin liquor!" I made the appointment and scans and tests were scheduled for enzyme analysis and a stress test. The enzyme test was just a blood test. The heart check was an ultrasound and a jog on a treadmill.

All of the tests came back clean as a whistle. After twenty eight years of self destruction I was surprised that I didn't have any battle wounds. I think blessed is more like it. I was healthy as a horse. It didn't hurt. I didn't have the Grim Reaper standing over me with a sickle. My fear was all for nothing. All those years of obsession and discomfort of wondering were pointless. Even if I had found out something was wrong, at least I WOULD KNOW!

My mother hates to go to the doctor as well. She darn near has to be stricken with the plague before she'll even consider the trip. She was diagnosed with cataracts recently. For over a year she was suffering from blurred vision, and said nothing. When she relented and sought a doctor's opinion the news was mixed. He said she would need surgery and clear vision would return. He also said if she would have waited another few months she would have lost her sight for good. She is doing great. She said colors are more vivid than she ever remembered.

We all have fears. Some are real, others are trivial. All of them can be devastating. It seems to me that our fear of knowing the truth is harder to face than the reality. I can look at my life now and realize, that in most cases, my mental picture is 100 times worse than the facts when I eventually face the problem. I am amazed at how much pain I put myself through from my thoughts!

There is another acronym for FEAR. It is Facing Everything As Real. I like that. If I would have continued down the path I was on, FEAR would have driven me to the grave! That's not living! It is being a prisoner in our own melons! Do me a favor. If you hurt somewhere go to the doctor. If you need to fix a damaged relationship, pick up the phone and fix it! If you need help ask for it! Don't be a hostage. Remember, nothing changes...if nothing changes. The only thing you have to lose is your mind!

What a Mutha!

Happy Mother's Day! I hope you all take the time to say that today to your Ma. If they are in heaven, don't worry, they just moved from their condo into your heart. If your adopted send well wishes into the cosmos.

Most, if not all of us have had issues with our Mother at some time in our lives. Some of them are real, deep seated wounds. Yet others are because we wanted things our way and had a strong woman in our world to say "NO!"

If you haven't talked to your mother in a while, today is the perfect time to do it. You may say, "after what she did, and said to me...forget it!" Family conflict is real and sometimes brutal. That's called life. Mom's are human, just like us. Why is it that we think that our folks should allow us to make mistakes, but we think they should be the ones accountable for theirs?

Without your mother you wouldn't even be thinking about their faults! Why? It's simple. YOU WOULD NOT BE....Mother's gave us life. They carried around a watermelon in their belly for nine months! Would you do the same for her?! I hope the answer is yes. They fed you when you were helpless. They clothed you and did the best mothering they could do. It may not be the way you want the picture painted. Maybe your not the way Ma wanted you to be. What's the difference?

I hope two things happen on this Mother's Day. The first is that you tell your ma you love her. The second is that you tell her "THANK YOU," for giving me life. WE don't have much time here. Eating a meal of crow is a lot easier than guilt gnawing at you for what you didn't say or do. You don't have to be right, even if you are. That's not the point. Without mothers you would be...NOWHERE! Thank GOD for their sacrifices!

Apologizing isn't admitting your wrong. It's recognizing the fact that your relationship is more important than your pride....God bless you and your Mother....To my Mom, second Mom and wife,,,thanks for being a Mutha!

The Devil Made Me Do It...

I have a habit of telling people, "GOD BLESS YOU." No, not just when they sneeze, all the time. I like to add "MAY YOUR GOD BLESS YOU," as well. I am a Christian but feel faith is a personal issue. The key to spiritual contentment starts with a personal relationship with GOD.

Wishing blessings upon people is a beautiful thing. However, I think as Americans we are blessed beyond our wildest dreams. We take our freedom for granted. When I see rude angry people on the street I am puzzled by how they could think we have it so bad. Don't get me wrong, the economy and job market is horrible. I just can't see why everyone is so miffed. Spend a few days living in the streets and your outlook will change in a jiffy. On your next trip to the islands or Mexico have a guide take you outside the tourism district. You'll see people living in boxes...literally!

Why is it that when good things happen we say,"Thank God," but when something bad happens, we blame it on the devil? I don't know about you but I grow the most through pain. As a parent I can be a great guy for twenty-nine days of the month and be in a bad mood one day, and that's what the kids remember. GOD puts us through terrible things to change our direction and give us strength.

I believe in the devil. I just don't think he's the source of all the bad things that happen in our lives. GOD doesn't micromanage. I think GOD says "NO". HE says, "Not Yet," and "I have another plan." We have to keep our eyes out for dark forces, but freewill and, GOD's will need to be considered. When we don't know what his will is, doing the next right thing is usually a pretty good choice.

When my father died it devastated me. It still does. When he passed I was grateful to GOD for relieving him of his pain. His passing gave me the motivation to pursue my dreams of being a comic, actor and writer. This was a painful time that changed my perspective on living. I am more afraid of not living my life to the fullest, than I am of dying.

We can pray to do "GOD'S WILL." However, WE have to do things that are adding to the goodness here on earth...as it is in heaven.  He won't parallel park my car in the city. He won't call me up with job opportunities. He will send messengers. We are to get it, then get it done. We do the footwork.

There are times I have thanked GOD for teaching me a lesson. Sometimes I need to be redirected to the path I think he wants me to travel. I can't do anything to impress him. I can do things that would please him. Mostly, I can do good things for others as a way of saying thanks for all that you do for me BIG GUY!

When I mess up unintentionally that is my humanity. When I act like a jerk because life isn't going MY WAY, I can't blame it on the devil! If I don't work at being good, and helping others, how can I be surprised when things turn bad? When tragedies happen I don't need to blame it on the devil. I'm not going to give him that much credit. Sometimes I have to look in the mirror and decide if the devil really made me do it...or not do it, or was it me. Sometimes I just have to keep the FAITH in knowing the answers will come. I just have to let them in....

DEATH...IS IN THE CARDS....

Death used to cripple me with fear. It gnawed at me before I found sobriety, going back to the time I was a little kid. I would dwell on it. Mostly, I trembled at the thought of how bad it was going to hurt. I obsessed about HOW it was going to happen. I thought about it 24/7.

When I began to use I had a death wish. At the end of my run my fear of dying hospitalized me with horrific panic attacks. Then my thoughts turned to wondering who, if anyone, would show up at my memorial service. I pondered about who would cry or be unaffected. I hoped there would be lots of people, sympathy and drama. It consumed me to the point that I was afraid to live. That is part of the reason I turned to chemical escape.

A friend of mine died of alcohol induced coma last week. It was yet another tragic outcome from the unmerciful  ravage of addiction. Like most folks a death brings my own mortality back into focus. I consider every day I am given in sobriety a gift. I tried to kill myself daily. When I demanded that GOD "give me what I deserved," he ignored my rantings. Boy am I thankful for that!

We all have rituals and ways that we remember those who have passed. I wear a piece of jewelry or clothing  that was my father's at every comedy and acting performance I participate in. It gives me comfort. I wear his cross from Ireland. That is a gift from both of my Fathers.' I think of him several times a day.

When someone passes I collect a few of their mass or memorial cards. I put them in my visor. I place them in my Bible. I carry them in my wallet. I don't know why. I just do it. Whenever I open my Bible or sit in my car I am reminded of my mortality. I no longer fear it. I hope it doesn't happen for a while. I have a message to spread about hope and sobriety. When it comes, I'm ready.

I know I am going to heaven. I have realized that obsessing about death is the same as worrying about the sun rising or having enough oxygen. I try to live EVERY day like it is my last. I hope I leave a legacy of peace and love. I will see all my friends in paradise.

Last night I was flipping through my Bible and it slipped from my hand. I was taken by the fact that that a half-a-dozen memorial cards fell out onto the floor. I looked at them and thought of my friends and family fondly. There were a few tears and plenty of smiles. As I began to place them back into the pages I had marked with them, it dawned on me. I don't have a card collection of the dead. I have sweet remembrances of the many friends I have made on this earth. It's not a sad pile of cards. It's a display of love.

I no longer fear death. I focus on living. I suck every minute out of it! The more friends I make, more cards will inevitably follow. I have prayed for peace for those suffering near death. I have been devastated at the loss of someone unexpectedly. I keep them alive in my heart. I am grateful for my cards. I know that they are markers of tickets to a better place. They are not alone. I also see that I am not living alone down here as well. Now on with the living! Tomorrow never knows. May God Bless YOU!

What About Bob?

It has been a long time since I have felt the urge or NEED to write two blogs in one day. If you had a chance to read the entry from this morning the ending revolved around my gratitude for my sobriety. I checked out by saying I was going to a recovery meeting. It was one that changed my mood from happy to sad. It further ingrained in the deepest depths of my psyche that EVERY DAY IS A GIFT!

I hope the readers who regularly follow the blog have realized that you don't have to be an addict to relate to my message. We all have fears and habits that we are slaves to. Some use food, envy, relationships, greed, work and a myriad of other things as their means of escape. The justifications and denials are the same. The pain runs as deep. It effects ones' ability to live comfortably, without guilt. Because it is not a drug, or can be easily concealed, it is dismissed as being just a "BAD HABIT."

To escape the grips of any obstacle that is impeding your ability to live a guilt free, fear free life is my goal. Addiction is what I know best. The other examples I listed are a few of the other things that kept me lost in myself or codependency for years. The joys of being free of self, and at peace with GOD and my fellows is what I hope to drive home.

You can't do it alone. The deeper an unwanted habit or fear is driven the more it tells you to keep it a secret. The less likely we become willing to talk about it. It also becomes nearly impossible to reach out for that help. Once you are freed from the ties that bind you, anything is possible. Life, family and life being "YOU" is amazing!

While I was at my meeting I found out about the death of a friend who was my age. His name was Bob. Bob was a fun loving, highly intelligent guy who loved his family. He had eyes that were piercing. Bob could not escape the grips of alcohol. He died last week. He was taken to a hospital with a blood alcohol level of .70. His organs shut down. Then he did. I am glad he is no longer at war with himself.

People who find the miracle of sobriety are few and blessed indeed. The guilt and shame of living a lie and in a secret world are crushing forces to have to relive day after day. Being said that I have been given a second chance would seem paltry to the miracles I have seen since I turned to GOD and friends for help. My life is anew. I am living a dream. I can deal with me as me. I can cope with reality and have stopped beating myself up emotionally. That is where all these habits center. The euphoria of experiencing our drug of choice is brief. It is really the self loathing, and emotional self beatings, we become addicted to.

When Bob was sober he was like a lamb. I used to see him sleeping in the streets. I gave him clothes and a winter coat. He drank. He was arrested over and over. He drank. He got to a point where if he stopped drinking he would have seizures. I was talking with him once when one occurred. It was terrifying. He jumped up in a moment and was ready to fight. He lost the fight last Week.

Overcoming yourself is the hardest thing a human can do. We get so caught up in chasing after money, material success, and escapism, that we are soon lost.

When I say I try to leave every meeting with a friend or loved one with a good feeling, I MEAN IT! Every day is a gift because we only live moment to moment whether we like it or not. I don't want to leave any regrets on the table when I split for paradise. Guilt is no longer a feeling I can live comfortably with. Anger is an emotion that is toxic for me. I avoid it at all costs.

Wherever you are in your world please realize what you have is so much more than you need. We have it so good in America. Even in these dark economic times. Take a trip through the shacks of the Caribbean Islands or Mexico and see what shanty life is.

Take time to enjoy the simple things in life like smiles, hugs and sunsets. The next time you eat an apple, marvel at its natural beauty. Laugh at the laugh of a child. Most of all, make peace with yourself and the people that surround you. Live like there's no tomorrow. There may not be one. Eventually we all will have a last moment. I do not want my last day to be wasted on fear, hate, broken relationships and wasted negative energy.

The greatest thing about life is that you can start over any time you want. Take time today to thank GOD for what you HAVEN'T been given. Call that lost friend or shunned relative. Your last day may not be tomorrow. Theirs may. Nothing in life is as precious as...LIFE....

Eating Garbage In A Three Piece Suit

The more time I spend in sobriety, the clearer my mind is becoming. My using days created huge blank spots that are starting to fill back in. I blacked out EVERY time I drank. That's the whole idea right? I have mentioned that I don't remember the early nineteen-nineties. I have little recollection of my first year and a half at Illinois State. I do remember being arrested twice and being placed on academic probation for all three semesters.

I also had a radio show on WZND, the campus radio station. In a bit of Irony the show was called "The Happy Hour." It opened with the Ramones, "Rock-n-Roll radio. I never did a show sober. Not one. After I split for Columbia Chicago, out of necessity, and a harsh warning from the judge in Bloomington, I graduated in 1992. I don't have a single photo from my days at Columbia. I do have the sheepskin. I guess that's all that really matters.

I loved that there were 2 bars next door to the college back then. I would drink or smoke between classes and made few friends. They didn't drink like me so I had no use for them. I was so desperate to get high that during renovation of the original Michigan Avenue campus, I would sneak up to the construction area and use. I would return to class out of my mind and only half conscious.

Not long after I graduated I got a job in the gaming industry. They had opened up the first casinos in Joliet. I conned and schmoozed my way into a position in group sales. My job was to go to bars and organize bus trips for gamers. I spent more time in the bar drinking than getting groups signed up.

The job was a suit and tie gig. I felt like a big shot. I was really gripped with fear and a hundred insecurities. The chemicals just dulled the self-loathing. As my production in the department faded I knew my days were numbered. As an alcoholic I always had another job, and woman, on back up if things didn't work out when they discovered I was an addict.

One of the memories that has returned was the first time I ate garbage. The casino sent me on a tourism road trip through Michigan and Ohio with a bus company that promoted tours. There were speakers from the other area casinos and attractions. During the days we would travel to a city hotel and do presentations on why groups should visit our area. I was always able to pull off a funny presentation with a massive hangover. Every moment that I was on the job I was either recovering from, obsessing about or using alcohol. It consumed me until I consumed it.

After we would wrap up our presentations the group would meet for dinner. I was on a tight budget. Purchasing alcohol was my priority. Food was optional. As dinner hour came I would have a few drinks with the group and dismiss myself stating that I wasn't very hungry. I was. It was for alcohol. I would high tail it to the nearest liquor store and slink back to my room.

As I made my way back to my room loaded with liquid courage I noticed all the room service trays that had been placed in the hallway. The thought dawned on me that this is where I could find food! Booze first! I only wanted a small amount of eats as not to kill the buzz. My disease created enough denial in me that the thought of eating someones leftover garbage was easily overcome. I thought I was a survivor.

I would move with stealth, from floor to floor carefully lifting the aluminum food covers from the delivered plates. I didn't want to be caught with the occupants left overs in my hand! I carried napkins or the tiny garbage can liners to carry my bounty. Rolls, a piece of uneaten chicken and crackers were major scores. Taking a potato peel that had its' delicious center devoured was not below my station. I took them.

I was careful not to be seen. I was wearing a suit. When a passerby sauntered by I would merely smile and continue back to my room. Once there I would eat my leftovers and gnawed on bounty with smug pride, proud that I had saved my money for more booze. As the next day dawned I would slip back into a suit and feel invigorated that I had eaten garbage while they dined like respectable people.

This week I auditioned for 2 casino commercials. One looks pretty promising. I think those experiences are what triggered my flashbacks. I have been to casinos with Squeaky. I enjoy our time together there. Gambling addiction is one of the few I didn't fall into.

Looking back at my past is important. It helps me to remember where I was, and where I pray not to return  to. I learned a lot. It is just another chapter of the insanity that ruled my life for 28 years. It also helps jog my memory to anyone I may have wronged or harmed so I can seek them out and try to amend the situation. I learn from pain. It makes me stronger.

Today I am catching my dreams. It is only through the grace of GOD and those who helped me that I am sober today. I thanks the heavens for every day of living I am granted sober. Now I pass on my experiences to those who are fresh in recovery. That is how the circle works. I am grateful to share my story of pain to happiness to those newcomers. I see their pain and get further reinforcement that I don't wish to return to that misery.

I don't leave any regrets on the table now that I have been granted this new life. My motto is go for it. There are no such things as dreams, only unmet realities. I have to say goodbye because I have a recovery meeting now and there may be a newcomer who can relate to someone who has already fought the war. God Bless you all! Thanks for giving me a reason to live...sober. Every Day IS a Gift!

May Day! May Day! I AM HERE!

May Day is a date that is permanently etched into my mind. When it rolls around each year it marks a dark anniversary for me. On April 30, 2004, Squeaky left me. I had started to mix drugs and alcohol. After 4 years of being alcohol free I went back to my old stand by. Pills and pot no longer relieved me of the self torture that was ruling my mind and empty soul. The pain of watching me self destruct, and the thought of me taking down the whole family was too much for her to bear. After a terrible argument...she left. I would have left sooner.It is the day I tried to take my own life.

I was no longer homeless. We had built a beautiful home. I had a good job. There were two cars in the garage. My addiction didn't care. It doesn't discriminate. I had sobered up for a while after living in my car and losing everything. Now, just 5 years later, I was living the "American Dream." 

It wasn't enough to satisfy an addict like me. Nothing was ever enough to satiate my need for escape. I couldn't  take another day of being drunk and high against my will. I was a slave. Booze and drugs were my god. The thought of trying to face reality sober was just as terrifying. How could I face my feelings? The baggage of my past was impossible to bare without chemical fortification. 

I had turned my back on therapy. I refused to accept the fact that I had depression issues. I figured if you had my life...you'd be high too. Chemical imbalance? I didn't think I was crazy! The insanity of addiction becomes what's normal to the user after years of practice. 

I didn't see that God had given me the life I dreamed of ! I was living in an unheated car in Stone Park just a few years before that. My addictions knew me longer than anyone. God's words went in one ear and out the other. When my addiction demanded my attention, I always heeded it's call, willfully, and often, even when I dreaded the thought. I tried to fight. It always won.

When the car stalled in the garage after I had set up my mobile gas chamber with vacuum hoses and duct tape I woke up completely sober. I had taken a bottle of prescription meds and drank a half a bottle of rum. When I slid into the car I carried a Bible, a family photo and had hung a rosary around my neck. I knew I was going to hell. I figured, just maybe, the props would be a great con to try to make my way to heaven.

When I came to that morning it was May Day. I couldn't believe I was still alive. Something had sparked in me. I was sober as a judge. There was no hang over or headaches. I went to a recovery meeting and broke down. I spent a long time on my knees begging and thanking GOD for the break. I would drink and use again in a few months. Addiction has a short memory of the agony and the race is on again if you try to go it alone.

This is my third sober May Day. I am active in my recovery and therapy for my depression. As the Beatles sang, "It's getting Better All The Time!." When it's not so good I turn to God and my friends. Not trying to figure out everything on my own is the key to my happiness and serenity these days.

Today I woke up SOBER and spent a lovely morning with Squeaky. Then I went to an audition for a commercial.  I spent the afternoon with my son. I talked to two people in recovery. I confirmed the date for "Rally Round Recovery 2012." I will be hosting it again this year. I also committed to emceeing at the "Recovery Walk" at Governors State on September 22, 2012. I got a call for another audition on Friday. Tomorrow I will be taking my Mom to the doctor. None of those things were possible high. Anything is possible now!

But for the grace of GOD I have been given chance after chance to make my life right and make peace with myself. I am glad I have turned to others in my recovery and faith to get me to where I am today. It was when I began to listen to the tiny voice inside of me and the sober friends around me that life began anew. I tried to go it alone for years. My ways got me drunk, high, afraid, crazy and alone.

God has a plan for me. He has one for you. If you are trapped in any situation that you think you can't bear...YOU CAN! Reach out to a friend and your God. He will always pick up the phone. He sends directions. We have to do the walking. There is NOTHING in this world that you can't overcome with hope, faith and the hand of a friend. 

I gotta go now. Squeaky and I are gonna watch some History Channel and fall asleep together. That is after I get on my knees and thank God for another day of living, another day of sobriety. I will also thank him for the privilege of serving him and trying to make my brief time here a testament to his grace. I wish you all well. May your God bless you. He's always willing to give you a second chance. If you cry, "Mayday, Mayday,"... he'll be there for you..

The Harvey Kid, Sinatra and Living Right!

om Dreesen, The Chairman of the Board and My Pops

Tom Dreesen, an amazing person and legendary funnyman will be at The Laugh Factory, Chicago on May 6, 2012. THe Show is at 5pm! Don't miss it. Tom's stories of his days with Sinatra, and his hilarious reflections on growing up in the business are priceless. This blog was written shortly after I met Tom for the first time. See You Guys Sunday!

(original post 10/11 unedited)

I have mentioned many times in past posts that I don't believe in coincidence. I feel that God has a grand plan for all of us. We just don't know what that plan is until we're looking back in the rear view mirror of our lives. How many times have you been thinking about a friend and they call unexpectedly? Haven't there been times when you were at your wits end and a stranger smiled at you or extended a compliment at just the right moment? Coincidence? I think not.

After my father passed away in July 2010 my world was shaken to its' foundation. I was sober for a year and a half when he died. GOD, and the help of others like me, helped me get sober 18 months prior to his death. It was so that I could be there for him. I had not been the greatest son during some pockets of time during my 28 years of alcoholism and addiction. I had used, abused and taken advantage of my Pops.' That's what addicts do. In those last 18 months we were able to reconnect and become father and son again. We also became best friends and confidants.

As he deteriorated in mind and body I would bathe and shave him and make him laugh. My dad had a laugh that made you laugh. It was difficult to see the tough Irish, self made guy who ran with "The Son's of Italy" as a kid melt away in front of me. God gave me the strength to be there for him, and second mom, when I was just beginning to get my own mind together. If I was still drinking the pain of seeing him so frail and disoriented would have been too much and I would have avoided him like a cop with a breathalyzer test.

 HE got me sober when he did to fulfill his plan of reuniting us and granted me the grace to make things right and be there when dad needed me most. I didn't see that when I was smack dab in the middle of the pile. I was an emotional wreck. I was still having panic attacks and learning how to cope with life without chemicals. I learned a lot about myself, my dad, my family and my God during those 18 months. Although it was the most difficult time in my life it is also one of the seasons of it season I treasure most.

After Dad was gone I decided I was going to go back to comedy and give acting a shot. I wasn't going to leave any dream or regret on the table. Two days after his memorial service I was on the set of "The Chicago Code." As for comedy I got pretty lucky. The first time I ever did stand-up the Chicago Tribune was at Barrel-O-Laughs in Oak Lawn to write a feature story for the METRO section about people taking chances at midlife. I had already joined the Navy Reserve at 40 and was one week away from my 41st birthday when I decided to follow a lifelong dream of being a comic. Yeah I know! We'll get back to the Navy thing another day.

 Not many comics get a front page spread in the Tribune Metro Section on their first gig. Most never do. It was God's plan and after they laughed at my first joke I was hooked. The bad thing was that I blanked on what the "flashing light" meant and my 7 minutes became 20! Bill Brady, emcee at the Barrel let me roll because the crowd was laughing and I had brought half of them. It was liking climbing Everest! As I saw the pictures of famous comedians on the wall like Steve Allen, Drew Cary and Jackie Mason I was star struck. As I stood on the same stage they had and people laughed at words I had cobbled together I was blown away!

I had been acting for 2 months. I hadn't done comedy in ages and sent out my act via facebook to Tom Dreesen, David Brenner, Marsha Warfield and Mike Toomey asking for some feedback. I got responses from everyone except Marsha. We have since become friends. She is out of the comedy game but is still a force in Chicago as an activist in educating people about tolerance, racism, equality and history. Dreesen, Warfield and Toomey are all from Chicago.  EVERYONE knows David Brenner is pure New York with an open run show in Vegas. I love his insights. Mike is a staple around Chicago on WGN, HBO, Comedy Central and anywhere he can talk about TV shows. He is a 10 year old trapped in Mike Toomey and a great guy.

I had the most feedback from Tom Dreesen. Here was a guy who had toured with Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. and he was taking time to help an unknown like me. I was familiar with Tom's story to some degree. As I learned more about his upbringing the parallels in our lives seemed similar. Knowing what I know now I see that God put Tom in my path to help me fulfill the mission I am on for HIM. The similarities are stark in our paths as far as our upbringing, our family friendly material and our desire to give back to the community through supporting worthy causes. We also both know catching your dreams is possible with faith, hope and friends. We differ in that he is a Comic legend and a Cub fan. I am an actor, story teller, writer and Sox fan who loves to make people laugh on a mission to share my story of delivery from addiction.

I knew Tom was from Harvey and part of "Tim and Tom" the first bi-racial comedy team. I also knew he did a lot of service work and fundraisers around Chicago. His reputation as a good guy is well known. His years with Frank Sinatra well documented. I loved Sinatra as a kid and still do. I had seen him on The Tonight Show and Letterman. That was where my education about the background of Tom Dreesen ended.

I got some good responses from Tom, David and Mike. I followed up my first message with a second one stating that I was in recovery and wanted to share my story of alcoholism, addiction, homelessness, hopelessness to recovery through hope, faith and the hand of a friend. Basically, I was doing a reverse in the classic show biz storyline. I was an addict who lived on skid row who was moving into show business and wondered if that would be committing career suicide by sharing that in my act.

Dreesen and Brenner are wonderful foils. Tom told me of Carl Reiner's advice to him as a young comic to "Show them your pain." Brenner pointed out that you don't wanna talk bad about booze in front of a crowd full of people enjoying a drink and a guy who is paying you with the money they bought them with. I am not anti booze. It's just not for me. I've had my share.

I continued to check in and my acting career was on the rise. I began to write my blog "Every Day is a Gift" in December as a cathartic diary about the pains of sobriety and the grieving over the loss of my father. Each entry, including this one is done in one sitting. It is one stream of consciousness. It keeps it real and honest. The grammar and punctuations suffers but I think the message is what counts. Within a few months the blog was named one of the "Top Addiction Blogs Online." As of today it is read in 52 countries on 6 continents. Addiction is universal. It is an equal opportunity killer and loves to destroy everybody in its' path.

The parallels began to align when I learned that Tom had family members with alcohol issues. He also started one of the countries first drug awareness programs in schools for kids as a Jaycee. That was what introduced him to Tim Reid and was the precursor to his comedy career. Coincidence? I think not. When I was named spokesman and Emcee for this years "Rally Round Recovery" I reached out to Tom for help in recording some promotional commercials. he didn't hesitate. He recorded 2 and the event was a huge success. I was grateful to be a part of the event and have been asked to return for "Rally Round Recovery 2012." Good Lord willing I'll be there.

As the blog got more popular someone suggested I turn it into a book. I had always wanted to write a novel. Sharing my stories of 3 failed marriages, living homeless, eating garbage, lving with undiagnosed depression issues and trying to take my own life was not the block buster I wanted out there. More loved ones of addicted people reached out. I shared my experiences in recovery and my belief that catching your dreams is possible no matter what the obstacle with faith and the hand of a friend. I decided to do it and that I could donate proceeds to recovery, homeless and mental health programs.

Soul Parole Productions, Inc. was born on July 7, 2011. The name is taken from the title of my book Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself. It will be released December 17, 2011 on AMAZON. That is one year to the day from when I started the blog. I have chosen the recovery, homeless and mental health programs and institutions the book will help support. I hope to find a corporate sponsor to help me get on the road and share my story with as many people possible.

Last night Squeaky and I met Tom Dreesen after a fundraiser for St. Scholastica School for girls in Chicago. After countless emails, messages and phone calls I felt like I already knew him as we shook hands. It was a firm comfortable grip. He was set to meet with the alumni and special guests and made time for Squeaky and me.  He's just a working stiff in a tux with a heart of gold. He is exactly as you see him in the media. Tom is Tom. Knowing his story and what his mission in lifehas been, I KNOW, I know him. He was warm and welcoming. I thought Squeaky was going to hug him to death. He took time to take pictures for the book.

In my short career as an actor and comic I have been blessed to work in a lot of films and tv series in a very short time. I have passed on the name of my agent and casting directors to a handful of acting and comic hopefuls along the way. A few of them have already passed me by and are SAG actors and landed regular roles in cable series. I am grateful that I could help them on their journey. People helped me get sober and to where I am in my career and life. Holding your hand out to a friend is what I think the whole purpose is to us being here.

People are put in my path. I was put in the path of others to help them in God's plans for them. We all are messengers and have gifts to share. Tom  has shown me that helping others up the ladder is something that should never be forgotten no matter how far you climb or don't. At this point not helping others would leave a void in my life. It's my career that may suffer. I think that sharing my story, addiction and ending the stigmas that go along with it and depression is going to be my career. God will let me know.

Tom wrote the foreword for Soul Parole. I am grateful for that. His words are touching and I feel a little unworthy of them. Tom has become much more than a reviewer or advisor in these last several months. He has become my model for my act and my mission to give back to the community. I am sharing my story of pain, hope and catching my dreams. If one person hears my story and it helps them act on their addiction, gives them courage to face a fear or inspires them to catch their dreams... then my 28 years of pain was not spent in vain... it was just part of God's plan.

Tom Dreesen, The Chairman of the Board and My Pops

Tom Dreesen, The Chairman of the Board and My Pops

Tom Dreesen, an amazing person and legendary funnyman wii be at The Laugh Factory, Chicago on May 6, 2012. THe Show is at 5pm! Don't miss it. Tom's stories of his days with Sinatra, and his hilarious reflections on growing up in the business are priceless. This blog was written shortly after I met Tom for the first time. See You Guys Sunday!

(original post 10/11 unedited)

I have mentioned many times in past posts that I don't believe in coincidence. I feel that God has a grand plan for all of us. We just don't know what that plan is until we're looking back in the rear view mirror of our lives. How many times have you been thinking about a friend and they call unexpectedly? Haven't there been times when you were at your wits end and a stranger smiled at you or extended a compliment at just the right moment? Coincidence? I think not.

After my father passed away in July 2010 my world was shaken to its' foundation. I was sober for a year and a half when he died. GOD, and the help of others like me, helped me get sober 18 months prior to his death. It was so that I could be there for him. I had not been the greatest son during some pockets of time during my 28 years of alcoholism and addiction. I had used, abused and taken advantage of my Pops.' That's what addicts do. In those last 18 months we were able to reconnect and become father and son again. We also became best friends and confidants.

As he deteriorated in mind and body I would bathe and shave him and make him laugh. My dad had a laugh that made you laugh. It was difficult to see the tough Irish, self made guy who ran with "The Son's of Italy" as a kid melt away in front of me. God gave me the strength to be there for him, and second mom, when I was just beginning to get my own mind together. If I was still drinking the pain of seeing him so frail and disoriented would have been too much and I would have avoided him like a cop with a breathalyzer test.

 HE got me sober when he did to fulfill his plan of reuniting us and granted me the grace to make things right and be there when dad needed me most. I didn't see that when I was smack dab in the middle of the pile. I was an emotional wreck. I was still having panic attacks and learning how to cope with life without chemicals. I learned a lot about myself, my dad, my family and my God during those 18 months. Although it was the most difficult time in my life it is also one of the seasons of it season I treasure most.

After Dad was gone I decided I was going to go back to comedy and give acting a shot. I wasn't going to leave any dream or regret on the table. Two days after his memorial service I was on the set of "The Chicago Code." As for comedy I got pretty lucky. The first time I ever did stand-up the Chicago Tribune was at Barrel-O-Laughs in Oak Lawn to write a feature story for the METRO section about people taking chances at midlife. I had already joined the Navy Reserve at 40 and was one week away from my 41st birthday when I decided to follow a lifelong dream of being a comic. Yeah I know! We'll get back to the Navy thing another day.

 Not many comics get a front page spread in the Tribune Metro Section on their first gig. Most never do. It was God's plan and after they laughed at my first joke I was hooked. The bad thing was that I blanked on what the "flashing light" meant and my 7 minutes became 20! Bill Brady, emcee at the Barrel let me roll because the crowd was laughing and I had brought half of them. It was liking climbing Everest! As I saw the pictures of famous comedians on the wall like Steve Allen, Drew Cary and Jackie Mason I was star struck. As I stood on the same stage they had and people laughed at words I had cobbled together I was blown away!

I had been acting for 2 months. I hadn't done comedy in ages and sent out my act via facebook to Tom Dreesen, David Brenner, Marsha Warfield and Mike Toomey asking for some feedback. I got responses from everyone except Marsha. We have since become friends. She is out of the comedy game but is still a force in Chicago as an activist in educating people about tolerance, racism, equality and history. Dreesen, Warfield and Toomey are all from Chicago.  EVERYONE knows David Brenner is pure New York with an open run show in Vegas. I love his insights. Mike is a staple around Chicago on WGN, HBO, Comedy Central and anywhere he can talk about TV shows. He is a 10 year old trapped in Mike Toomey and a great guy.

I had the most feedback from Tom Dreesen. Here was a guy who had toured with Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. and he was taking time to help an unknown like me. I was familiar with Tom's story to some degree. As I learned more about his upbringing the parallels in our lives seemed similar. Knowing what I know now I see that God put Tom in my path to help me fulfill the mission I am on for HIM. The similarities are stark in our paths as far as our upbringing, our family friendly material and our desire to give back to the community through supporting worthy causes. We also both know catching your dreams is possible with faith, hope and friends. We differ in that he is a Comic legend and a Cub fan. I am an actor, story teller, writer and Sox fan who loves to make people laugh on a mission to share my story of delivery from addiction.

I knew Tom was from Harvey and part of "Tim and Tom" the first bi-racial comedy team. I also knew he did a lot of service work and fundraisers around Chicago. His reputation as a good guy is well known. His years with Frank Sinatra well documented. I loved Sinatra as a kid and still do. I had seen him on The Tonight Show and Letterman. That was where my education about the background of Tom Dreesen ended.

I got some good responses from Tom, David and Mike. I followed up my first message with a second one stating that I was in recovery and wanted to share my story of alcoholism, addiction, homelessness, hopelessness to recovery through hope, faith and the hand of a friend. Basically, I was doing a reverse in the classic show biz storyline. I was an addict who lived on skid row who was moving into show business and wondered if that would be committing career suicide by sharing that in my act.

Dreesen and Brenner are wonderful foils. Tom told me of Carl Reiner's advice to him as a young comic to "Show them your pain." Brenner pointed out that you don't wanna talk bad about booze in front of a crowd full of people enjoying a drink and a guy who is paying you with the money they bought them with. I am not anti booze. It's just not for me. I've had my share.

I continued to check in and my acting career was on the rise. I began to write my blog "Every Day is a Gift" in December as a cathartic diary about the pains of sobriety and the grieving over the loss of my father. Each entry, including this one is done in one sitting. It is one stream of consciousness. It keeps it real and honest. The grammar and punctuations suffers but I think the message is what counts. Within a few months the blog was named one of the "Top Addiction Blogs Online." As of today it is read in 52 countries on 6 continents. Addiction is universal. It is an equal opportunity killer and loves to destroy everybody in its' path.

The parallels began to align when I learned that Tom had family members with alcohol issues. He also started one of the countries first drug awareness programs in schools for kids as a Jaycee. That was what introduced him to Tim Reid and was the precursor to his comedy career. Coincidence? I think not. When I was named spokesman and Emcee for this years "Rally Round Recovery" I reached out to Tom for help in recording some promotional commercials. he didn't hesitate. He recorded 2 and the event was a huge success. I was grateful to be a part of the event and have been asked to return for "Rally Round Recovery 2012." Good Lord willing I'll be there.

As the blog got more popular someone suggested I turn it into a book. I had always wanted to write a novel. Sharing my stories of 3 failed marriages, living homeless, eating garbage, lving with undiagnosed depression issues and trying to take my own life was not the block buster I wanted out there. More loved ones of addicted people reached out. I shared my experiences in recovery and my belief that catching your dreams is possible no matter what the obstacle with faith and the hand of a friend. I decided to do it and that I could donate proceeds to recovery, homeless and mental health programs.

Soul Parole Productions, Inc. was born on July 7, 2011. The name is taken from the title of my book Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself. It will be released December 17, 2011 on AMAZON. That is one year to the day from when I started the blog. I have chosen the recovery, homeless and mental health programs and institutions the book will help support. I hope to find a corporate sponsor to help me get on the road and share my story with as many people possible.

Last night Squeaky and I met Tom Dreesen after a fundraiser for St. Scholastica School for girls in Chicago. After countless emails, messages and phone calls I felt like I already knew him as we shook hands. It was a firm comfortable grip. He was set to meet with the alumni and special guests and made time for Squeaky and me.  He's just a working stiff in a tux with a heart of gold. He is exactly as you see him in the media. Tom is Tom. Knowing his story and what his mission in lifehas been, I KNOW, I know him. He was warm and welcoming. I thought Squeaky was going to hug him to death. He took time to take pictures for the book.

In my short career as an actor and comic I have been blessed to work in a lot of films and tv series in a very short time. I have passed on the name of my agent and casting directors to a handful of acting and comic hopefuls along the way. A few of them have already passed me by and are SAG actors and landed regular roles in cable series. I am grateful that I could help them on their journey. People helped me get sober and to where I am in my career and life. Holding your hand out to a friend is what I think the whole purpose is to us being here.

People are put in my path. I was put in the path of others to help them in God's plans for them. We all are messengers and have gifts to share. Tom  has shown me that helping others up the ladder is something that should never be forgotten no matter how far you climb or don't. At this point not helping others would leave a void in my life. It's my career that may suffer. I think that sharing my story, addiction and ending the stigmas that go along with it and depression is going to be my career. God will let me know.

Tom wrote the foreword for Soul Parole. I am grateful for that. His words are touching and I feel a little unworthy of them. Tom has become much more than a reviewer or advisor in these last several months. He has become my model for my act and my mission to give back to the community. I am sharing my story of pain, hope and catching my dreams. If one person hears my story and it helps them act on their addiction, gives them courage to face a fear or inspires them to catch their dreams... then my 28 years of pain was not spent in vain... it was just part of God's plan.