"Signs, Signs Everywhere There's Signs"....

I love the song SIGNS. We sang it in Mr. Lamb's music class when I was in grade school. The original version was written by The Five Man Electric Band. A lot of people think it's a Tesla song. It reminds me of the sixties. The lyrics that revolve around accepting change, and seeing the signs around us, are profound.

For the better part of my life when the world said zig, I zagged. It was intentional. I hated conformity, and being one of the crowd. I was fiercely independent. My definition of independence meant defiance. I thought rules were suggestions. If I liked a rule, I followed it. If I didn't care for it, I dismissed it because I knew better.

Recently, I was issued a ticket for pausing at a stop sign. I paused. No one was around, so I interpreted the sign as pause instead of stop. It was clearly marked. I know what a stop sign means. It means stop, not pause. I had my reasons for the infraction. My wife was in mid-flight on a trip to Germany to visit our daughter. I was praying for a safe flight. I was making deliveries and needed to get back to work. My reasoning for committing the violation were my perceptions, not the reality. It was not what the sign read.

We all have a small still voice inside of us. Before I have said or done anything hurtful or wrong, the small still voice warned me for a split second before I acted. I used to dismiss it. Sometimes I still do. Once again, I knew better. The voice was wrong! Some call it conscience. I call it GOD.

My third marriage was a disaster. My ex wife and I were toxic together. In our abbreviated  marriage we never lived together for a week. We were very much alike. That's what made things so volatile. I was trapped deep in addiction. She had a violent temper. We were not on the same page. I dismissed our troubled beginnings. I thought they were growing pains.

There were signs all over the place before we got married. I saw her instantaneous anger rear its ugly head towards her two year old daughter at Christmas. The little girl opened a present and didn't like what was inside. Her mother became enraged and tossed all of her gifts into a garbage dumpster. After I left the house I returned to the dumpster to retrieve the toys and wrapped packages.

I figured I could change her. I felt as if the insanity is what I deserved. My addictions, and low self esteem talked me in to, what I knew I should run from. I ignored the signs. I jumped in to marriage with her against the advice of my friends and loved ones. I drew closer to her because I thought people were attacking her. Nobody knew her like I did! They were right. I reacted in spite. I knew in my heart that it was a mistake. My drive to zag overtook me. It was going to be me and her against the world. She threw my belongings out into the street the night we were wed.

If I had listened to the voice, heeded the signs I witnessed, and listened to the people observing the situation from the outside, I would not have made the choices I did. Nobody needed to tell me. I knew it, but tossed it, out of the window.

When I get into an argument with someone, in that split second before I say the words I'm going to regret, the tiny voice warns me not to do it. In my younger days I told the voice to SHUT UP and out spilled the venom. On some occasions it still does. I pay the price, often after wounding someone I care for deeply. Then I ask myself why I didn't listen.

As I mature, the tiny voice has gotten louder. I don't ignore it anymore. I realize that the voice is my gut feeling. If I went with that early warning system all the time, I would find myself in better places, with more positive outcomes. I realize the tiny voice is usually right. I can not recall a time when it was wrong.

There are signs everywhere, inside and outside of us. From getting a new job, to buying that shirt I can't afford, there are always signs I can follow or dismiss. I am glad that I can see, and hear, them now. I listen to them when I am unsure. Acceptance does not mean that I am compromising my independence. It proves that I am growing in it.

I now know that zigging doesn't mean I will always like doing it. The outcome is usually to my benefit. Now, I halt at stop signs, and look both ways. The cost of the ticket was enough to teach me it's a stop sign, not a suggested pause. There will be a price to pay...If I don't read the signs....

SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is on sale NOW  on Amazon and Amazon Europe. Personalized copies can be purchased through PAYPAL at tommyconnolly.com. 


Proceeds benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health programs.

Beauty and the Beast....

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

This blog is an updated version from September of 2011. It did not make it into SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself. It will definitely appear in SOUL PAROLE: I Was and I AM.


SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is NOW available ON Amazon.com, KINDLE and Amazon Europe. 

Proceeds benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health programs.


My baseline thinking as an addict 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 we are so focused on survival when we use it's a challenging mind set to overcome in recovery.

In my sobriety 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.Chemical escape enabled me to cope with my crushing self criticism   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 party mix. Then the mental "rope-a-dope" would begin again for another 24 hours.

 I realize now that I was using because I am wired 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 fashion that met with my satisfaction. As I grow in sobriety I have learned to like myself by letting the world do what it is supposed to do. I try to accept others as they are. Most importantly I try not to spend too much time alone in my head. I'm cool in a crowd, but when I'm alone a fight always breaks out.

Squeaky and I were 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 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. It was crystal clarity. I made arrangements to stay with her while she was in the hospital. They were very accommodating. It was one of the most fearful yet enlightening times.

As the time passed all I could think about was the stupid arguments leading up to that day. I questioned GOD about putting her through this instead of me. I was the idiot! After 28 years of trying to destroy myself an inch at a time, my health was perfect. 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, or 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 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 have 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. Whatever she needed I would be there. They would know if it was cancer later in the week. She was medicated.  Her family was there to support her. It kept me calm. In post-op she smiled and spoke in tongues. She looked glorious. Every time she moved I jumped up, afraid she was in pain or going to fall out of bed. I was asking if she needed the nurse every time she winced. I contorted myself up in the tiny Hobbit like chair and slept with one eye open grateful that we had dodged a bullet.

Being the real alcoholic I am I spent the hours beating myself up. I also replayed my behaviors over and over. 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." 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, while I was making them. Her opinions play 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. I was right there and not so danged worried about the future. We laughed at stupid stuff. I fetched ice chips and cups of coffee. She's a java junkie. I can live with her addiction. It creates the jitters at worst. 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. Sometimes I can't differentiate between what is best for me or us. That is an honest assessment of myself. She can't see my thoughts. She sees my head hunkered down in front of this laptop like a man possessed. Period. ACTIONS speak louder than thoughts. God calls the shots. I just show up for each DAYS game and try not to worry about making the playoffs.

We have some new challenges facing us now. We made it through one war, now there's another one shaping up on the battlefield. I know we can get through it if we keep our faith strong. I know that if I am sure that I'm doing the right thing, I do it. If I know it's a poor choice I don't make it. When I honestly don't know the road to take I sit back and wait. The answers will come when it's right, and I'm willing to listen to the messenger....

Married Four Times Makes Me a Marriage Expert Right?

Today is my 9th wedding anniversary to my wife Kris. Most folks know I call her Squeaky. The nickname is a reference to how she sounds, more than that of the strange woman who tried to whack President Ford, but being from Berwyn and Italian, my Squeaky is up for anything. This is my fourth marriage. Based on experience alone that makes me an expert, right?

Now that I am at the ripe young age of 45, and sober, it is a lot easier to look back on my 3 previous marriages and see where they failed. They failed because of 2 people who were not realistic about marriage and one who wasn't ever consulted. The 2 people who were not realistic were me and my addiction. The one never consulted - God.

I get a lot of heat from people saying I'm too hard on myself. I know that is true to a point. Self criticism is a problem that goes way back for me and is deeply rooted. I work on it daily. I can say that I don't use a bat any more to smack myself. It's more of the "socker-bopper" type these days. Coming from a critical upbringing, it is just a part of my being. Not passing it on to my kids is the key to breaking the chain. I am doing a pretty good job in that department. I praise my kids whenever possible. If they make a mistake I am always quick to point out the sunshine along with the clouds, not just the clouds.

That being said my first marriage lasted about 4 months. The second one lasted maybe 6. The third lasted a year, but we never lived together for a week straight. In my first year of marriage to Kris I had already surpassed the cumulative total of my previous 3 marriages. I take full responsibility for the failure of the first 3 marriages because I was not in a place of physical, emotional or spiritual well being to be married but did it anyway.

My first marriage was at age 26. My father was married to my mother at 26 and I was drinking and using speed quite heavily. I thought that by getting married I would "slow down." I thought that with marriage a switch would be flipped in my head which would turn me from an addicted boy into a responsible man. My wife to be was a great lady who wanted a wedding and had some idealistic ideas of marriage herself. She didn't fully understand the impact full time life with an alcoholic would take on her. I was functional outside but dysfunctional emotionally. To her credit, she left after 4 months.

My next two marriages were "shotgun marriages" so to speak. What I really wanted out of marriage was a child. A wife was just an addition and a means to an end of me getting what I wanted. Wife number two got pregnant, we got married, she lost the baby. We found out we were unable to have children together so that made the marriage disposable to me. She was out of there in 6 months. She is happily married now. My first wife went on to have a family of her own and I had the pleasure of meeting her son. I am happy for the both of them and grateful that they escaped me and my addiction.

Wife 3 and I were married for about a year but never lived together for a week straight. She got pregnant and lost the child. I married her before the miscarriage out of manufactured nobility and ended up empty handed. By the end of the marriage she did give me a beautiful daughter, but they have since disappeared. Kelly pops in and out of my life. She is 11 and I have learned to be patient and leave things in the Lord's hands when it comes to seeing her. I know that she is getting to the age where I hope she is getting more curious about spending time or talking to Dad. I used to obsess about it and it only made me sick. It will work itself out in God's time.

When I met Kris I was alcohol free but on the herbal life program. Not the healthy one. Since I was still using mind altering chemicals I wasn't growing emotionally or at least not as fast as I could have been if I was completely clean. She came with a ready made family so I jumped in and tried to fix things. One of an addict's or a man's biggest challenge is that we always feel the need to fix or advise, even when fixing or advising hasn't been requested or isn't needed.

The first few years were rough. The first one the roughest. We spent 3 years together before we got married. I was scared and I think she was too. It gave us both a chance to grow. 12 years together,  I can say that we really are best friends. Here are some of my observations on my marriage and why it works. I've also thrown in some general observations about marriage that I have surmised over the last few years.

1. When you see a couple and think that they never have a disagreement about anything, ever. This couple either doesn't talk, has separate bedrooms, one is a pushover, they don't talk, one is a pushover or they don't talk.

2. I don't need to be right. For years I did. What the hell do I achieve by being right? I prefer peace to right. Being able to say I am wrong gives me a lot more peace and satisfaction in my house than gloating over when I am right.

3. Just because I think that clearing the blinking time from the microwave, putting the dishes in the dishwasher in a particular order and wiping the water spots from the sink is stupid, the extra 30 seconds it takes for me to do these things to make my wife happy, is worth more than the grief I get from pointing out how silly it is. Am I the expert on silly and sane? I think not!

4. When my wife gives me 2 choices of what she should wear to a function I pick the one I don't want her to wear. This ensures that she will undoubtedly wear the other one: the one I want her to wear.

5. I don't have to fix her problems after work unless directly asked. Usually she wants me to sit like one of those plastic dogs with the bobbing heads while she vents. If I jump in and try to fix stuff, I'm done. The head bob and occasional ummm hmmm works perfectly here.

6. Sometimes even when I'm right, and I have been hurt, it's better to bite the bullet and move on than to waste the day on a silly fight. Life's too short for pouting.

7. Shoe shopping with my wife is a sure way to show her I love her and a great way to grow my patience with her and Vera Wang. I dislike shopping.

8. Shopping is when you go in a store and buy something. Looking is when you go in to stores and look at things. I don't like when my wife takes me looking. Shopping is okay...sometimes.

9. Sometimes the best thing to do is hit the pause button and walk away. There comes a time in a relationship when the discomfort of disharmony becomes stronger than the argument. We argue about dumb stuff like wrapping paper and what kind of cheese to buy, not money and the kids. Fix it and move on. I get heartburn from disharmony. Life's too short for heartburn.

10. God is at the center of our relationship. That has made it all work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahh! Alone At Last....The Truth About Sex And Marriage!

Valentine's Day is Tomorrow. I thought I would take this sacred day of romance and break it down into the reality of what the sex life of a married couple is reduced to over the years of bliss spent together. This chapter is directed toward those married couples who have been together for 10 years or more. Those of you who are reading this, and thinking about tying the knot don't get discouraged. The outcomes of your intimate marital encounters remain the same. It's the before, during, after, when and where that changes.

When a man and a woman switch from dating to becoming a couple the world is their oyster. The chemical pheromones that attract them to each other is fierce, almost magnetic. The way he brushes back his hair with his hand makes her hot. That little laugh and come hither glance sends him into a frenzy. The moment is "always right" and the answer is always yes. Creativity, endurance and effort are achieved effortlessly and the excitement never ceases to end.

After these early intimate encounters comes the cuddling and sharing of a Ben and Jerry's pint in bed, playing footsie and then round two or maybe three. Everything is like a scene out of "The Notebook" or "9 1/2 Weeks." It might even have a little of the flare that "Wild Things" had. But just as these classic movies have become distant memories, that don't lose their excitement when reminisced about, they do lose some of their zing as time ticks by.

Fast forward to 10+ years with that same couple. That irresistible thing he does with his hair makes her secretly want to shave his head. That cute laugh she does is irritating to him. That come hither look isn't seen as often. One round is normal, 2 rounds a rarity, 3 rounds an impossibility. The fire that once roared between you is still beautiful but it has smoldered with an occasional flare up. It is not the flaming passion that was consistent and intriguing just a few years earlier. Life has set in.

 There are jobs to be worked, bills to be paid, houses to be cleaned and THEN......comes the kids. Suddenly the focus of your every waking moment switches from the "act" to what you've created from it. The baby years, toddler years, the terrible two's and grade school years consume time and energy. There are practices to get to, games to attend, activities to be endured and with that the flame is reduced to a spark. By the time the little cuties make it through high school angst and have decided that we popped out of our parents at age 30, the spark is reduced to a pilot light. Not due to lack of desire, but lack of motivation.

I know there are exceptions to these rules but these are my experiences. I can also say that where the physical attraction was the strongest in the early years, the later years are filled with deeper friendship and true partnership. I am writing this next to my wife as we chuckle at our reality. This blog is not a complaint it is an observational piece. It's like watching NAT GEO and seeing a couple of older lions sprawled out in the plains of the Serengeti.

The "I want you right here, right now!" is replaced with "We have 20 minutes before the kids get home." Passion is replaced with release. Heat is replaced by need. Spontaneity is replaced by "Hey, you wanna...you know?" I will illustrate with an example that may create a disturbing mental picture for some, a laugh for others, or "Yep! that's it" by others. The following is a true story. Rated M for Married.

When I was a younger "manscaping" was nonexistent for the male species and a novelty in the female species. Today it is common place for both sexes. I personally don't care if my basement carpet looks like Tito Jackson's afro from the 70's. My wife however likes a neater cleaner, modern Tito cut.
The kids were gone this morning and we both felt the pilot light kicking up the oven temperature. We smiled and giggled and devised our intimate rendezvous.

The spontaneous "Take me on the table" demand is now, "Where do you wanna do it? Here? How about the bathroom counter top or upstairs?" We decided on the bathroom and held hands making our way with excited anticipation. We kissed, our temperatures were rising. My wife gave that rarely seen naughty look and suggested she would trim my hedges before we got down to it. She made it all sound so inviting I was up for anything. I was on fire now and ready to go. As she took the trimmer from my shaving drawer and slid the tiny garbage pail into leaf collecting position - Boom! The magic stopped. "Why are these cans in here instead of the recycling?" Between you and son I am tired of taking soda cans out of here."

She slammed down the clippers and retrieved the cans, taking them to the recycle bin in the kitchen. I boyishly muttered "We always put them in recycling at the end of the week." I now picked up the clipper and decided to finish the topiary work myself. I didn't realize that this was a delicate procedure. I thought it was like how they shave a Marine's head on all those old war films. After one swipe of the trimmer I ripped out a few hairs and decided my Afro was back in style.

After a few moments my wife returned. Style and creativity went out the window. We did our thing quicker than you can change a furnace filter then quickly put our lounging clothes back on. We hugged and exchanged "I love you." The Ben and Jerry's was replaced by a couple bowls of Raisin Bran and an argument between watching Brad Pitt in "Fight Club" or "House Hunters International." We ate our cereal on separate couches. I took a short nap and all was well. It was another day of romance in the 10 plus year love making club. We are due for another hook up in a week or so - right on schedule.

Honey? I'm Calling From A Phone Booth in Ireland! Will You Marry Me?

Alright boys and girls, moms and dads. It's time to nestle up next to your honey, or faithful pet, and hear the tale of how I finally got the marriage thing right. My last few chapters have been heart tuggers but I needed to get them out of me. If I didn't I would probably have taken a job as a groundskeeper at a closed, seasonal mountain lodge somewhere in the mountains to write a book. That didn't work out well for Jack Nicholson or Scatman Cruthers in "The Shining" so we are now switching gears.

We all know the old adage "The third time's a charm." Well for me it is, "Number four didn't show me the door!" My wife Kris was, is and always will be a saint. I am not in trouble or the dog house and I haven't forgotten a birthday or anniversary. She truly is. I would have kicked me to the curb a long time ago.

On February 21, 2002 my Father and I left for a 7 day trip to Ireland. After the horror of  9/11, international travel was at an all time low from the USA abroad. We booked our tickets and my dad said, "F&*k the terrorists! We are Americans and we're not afraid of them!" I did take a moment to remind my dad that Ireland was probably the last country the terrorists would "hit" right before Jamaica. My dad was a proud Vet and wore his patriotism and a USA emblem on his coat sleeve every day of the trip.

We arrived to cold and rain, mixed with colder, harder rain and accented with some occasional stinging, frozen sleet. Ah! Eire, I see you at last. It rained everyday we were there but we had some sunny spots occasionally. We weren't in for the touristy side of the country of my ancestors so we rented a car and just started to drive. We left Dublin with only one planned point on the trip and that was to visit the town of Connolly in County Clare. One of the funniest things on our trip was my first dinner in Dublin. My dad suggested Indian food! Indian food? In Ireland? He didn't eat the it in America and we flew 3000 miles to try the stuff! I hated it then and I still do now. I will fill in the rest of the trip later, but let's skip ahead a bit.

The Ring of Kerry winds and climbs along route N-70 on the southwest coast of the Emerald Isle. I loved everything about the awe inspiring island. The coast was heaven like. Every 50 feet was a spectacular panorama of peat bogs, inlets, hills, fields, stone fences and breathtaking flowers. The vast Atlantic lay beyond. God truly was inspired when he painted Ireland. Every scene is a giant green postcard and I would recommend a visit to anyone, except those pesky terrorists.

Driving takes exceptional skill for visitors and townsfolk alike. Sheep run free on the roads in herds, color coated so the owners can recognize their stock. Driving on the opposite side of the road there are no railings or shoulders and deep cutting cliffs and slopes. If you slide off the shoulder you will be greeted by eternity. There are also roadside chapels, painstakingly crafted in the middle of nowhere! Amazingly ornate statues and seats for prayer are placed there for those driving by to give praise for the beauty or thanks for making it around the sheep.

As we were moving through the last few days of our adventure we stopped in a tiny coastal town called Sneem, population 600. Here was Ireland complete. There was a church, a pub, a petrol station, a general store, a feed store, a couple quaint shops and a few more pubs and a few bed & breakfasts.
As we parked our tiny Renault in front of a pub of my father's choice, there wasn't a soul to be found. Nothing, nobody, zippo. It was like that ghost town in the Brady bunch episode with Jim Backus (Mr. Magoo and Thurston Howell 3rd) as the crazy miner. Thank God Mr. Brady was able to knock the jail cell key down with that rope made of belts. Ooh! I get the chills remembering the intrigue and ingenuity of Father Brady.

Anyway, there was no one around and we walked from colorful shop to colorful shop. All of them were trimmed in bright reds, brilliant greens and eye catching hues to draw the attention of passersby. All of them were locked. We returned to the car and sat perplexed at the silence. It was as if the whole town vanished. A few more moments went by and were planning to move on down the road. At the end of the main street we began to hear the gong of a church bell. Gong!......Gong!......Gong! The doors flung open and the whole town began to spill out into the street towards where we sat awestruck. Someone had died and I think all 600 of the townspeople showed up for the funeral. They scurried back to their shops and went about their business in the colorful town. They reopened for business as if the funeral closing was not an unusual occurrence. It was part of their daily responsibilities.

We asked for directions to the best B&B and drove back to check in. It was a quaint home with a spectacular view of a lake and the ocean beyond. I could have stayed there forever. We returned to the pub for dinner. I have mixed emotions by confessing I only had nonalcoholic beer in Ireland. The selections they had were quite good and I managed to stay free from the attention of the Guarda during our entire visit. The most memorable part of the night was when a homeless man entered the pub with a puppy. He placed the puppy on the floor and the little nipper ran right to my father and leaped into his arms. He licked and pawed at my dad and it remains one of my fondest memories of the trip. I have included the picture of that moment and another in the columns to the right of this blog. It is my favorite picture of my dad.

My dad enjoyed a few beers and I was intoxicated by the country as a whole. The people, sights and charm of the Emerald Isle live up to the hype. Still very much sober and full of nonalcoholic beer, I told my dad I was going to go exploring. That expedition was a street about a quarter mile long. At the end of the way was a typical English phone booth, bright red and stark sitting on the edge of Sneem. I walked toward the booth and saw it butted against a tiny bridge with a bubbling creek snaking and crawling underneath and through the idyllic village.

As I followed the course of the river it flowed gracefully into a lake, then into the ocean beyond. Even though it was 10:00 pm sunlight was still cracking through the skies above. The vision is burned in my mind and magnificent. I thought of my roommate, partner in crime and best friend sleeping soundly back in the states. She was everything I had ever pictured and my perfect foil. Where I was weak, she was strong. When I was miffed, she was relaxed. She was a great mother and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. We had been living together longer than my 3 other marriages combined and I was inspired by the beauty and grace the moment filled me with.

I can be impulsive. It comes with my nature. It was 4 am back at home and I knew Squeaky wouldn't be waking for another hour, but I was consumed. I was driven! I felt my heart leap and sing that THIS was the moment, even though I was an ocean away from her. I dialed the States direct and she answered the phone slightly startled and a wee bit irritated by the late morning call. She accepted the charges and I rambled endlessly about the beauty of Sneem and the events of the day. After a few minutes of rambling like a kid who downed a bowl of sugar my focus returned to my mission.

I started to sob as I confessed my unwavering love for her and the kids and I said the magic words, "Will you marry me?" She had begun sobbing too, the good sobbing of course. Her first response was, "Are you serious?" I gushed as tears spilled around me shouting, "YES! I have never been more sure of anything!" She shot back excitedly, "You traveled to Ireland, you're standing in a phone booth at 4am and you're asking me to marry you?" I caught my breath, slowed my tone and replied, "Yes, I am." She cried a sweet sigh and said with complete assurance, "I would be proud to be your wife." God I love Ireland!

If You Love Someone Dump Them Before They Break Your Heart!

When I reference being married 4 times it's a source of discomfort and to a lesser sense, a point of shame. Coming from a family of divorce I promised myself that when I get married it's gonna be forever. That statement of Biblical defined marriage obviously didn't come to pass for me. Divorce is a part of many of our lives, not just addicts. My multi matrimonial scorecard is just another reflection of how my addictive mind twists perception to fit its purpose.

The relationships I am in, and have been in, range from healthy to absolutely sick. Squeaky, the nickname of adoration I have for my wife, and I have a fairly healthy and functioning marriage. She is my best friend. We have been through a lot together. She has had to deal with the pains of my addiction and recovery, relapse after relapse and has some extremely big stones. My insane, controlling and irrational behaviors displayed in the early and later years of our marriage were enough to drive the strongest partner away.

I can honestly say that if I was the earthling and she was the addict I don't know if I would have stuck around for all the chaos. I can say with sincerity that my wife knows everything about me. We have no secrets between each other and never let the sun go down on our anger. In the beginning it was not so simple. There are difficult todays but in the early years I had the emotional I.Q. of a 15 year old. Some say that when you transition from casual user to addict your emotional maturity is suspended or retarded. I can say for myself that was definitely true and I can still act like a big, dumb baby when the world doesn't do what I want it to do. I have matured in the last few years more than I did in the several years before them.

I had my first "steady girlfriend" in third grade. I didn't know what that meant but I bought her a smiley face ring from the gumball machine at Mokena Pharmacy and she presented me with a plastic yellow bulldog. We were a match made in heaven. We would play house at recess and she was the bulldog and I was her proud owner. Our master and man's best friend arrangement worked marvelously as long as she did what I said and agreed to play the way I wanted to play. It also took great pains to tell her how she could be a better bulldog and improve herself. This was a pattern I repeated late into my adulthood.

A relationship to me was an opportunity to share romance, avoid loneliness and help my partner better them self. I offered my self-improvement advice whether it was welcomed or not. Long before I used my fear, self-loathing and hyper self-criticism were solidly forged. I got better and better at not trying to change my shortcomings by working harder and harder at telling everyone around me what was wrong with them. I didn't have to look at myself as long as I was focusing my attention on where others were defective.

One of the innate characteristics a lot of addicts share is the ability to read people. In the first few moments of meeting someone I can usually determine how confident they are with themselves, their vulnerabilities and the best way to manipulate them into giving me what I want. It is uncanny. For a casual acquaintance or work associate my unique skills were limited to a few hours a day. For family, friends and significant others I honed in on their tender spots and beat them to death with my recommendations on how to overcome them.

The more I cared for someone the more I feared they would eventually hurt me. Since I was certain that a painful ending was assured I would jab and poke at my partner's insecurities with my relentless advice and criticisms. I would slowly bleed out each partner until they told me it was over. Once my prophesy was fulfilled and I was alone again I could beat myself up some more and reflect on how I knew they would have hurt me all along.

I ruined countless relationships repeating this destructive behavior but I would always find another victim willing to take me on as their man. In the almost 40 years of dating and relationships the longest I have been single is probably three months or less. I needed to latch on to women to take the focus off of how badly I hated myself. By making others feel bad about themselves I took comfort in their discomfort. The words of an alcoholic or addict go straight for the kill shot. There is no preliminary round. We go for the verbal knock out with the first few words.

My recovery has helped me recognize this defect and a multitude of unhealthy behaviors I have participated in. I am longer to think and slower to speak now. I try to build up people instead of tearing them down. The funny thing is that in the past I would cause pain to feel pain. Now when I make others feel good, I feel good. The more time I have in sobriety the easier it becomes to be me. When I am okay with me I play nice with all the other kids in my life sandbox. With the help of God, other friends in recovery and continuous dedication to my sobriety I am confident that the day will come when I wake up content spending each day with myself.