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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

The Luck O' The Irish Aint All That Bad!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Open Mic Comedy is Like Slowly Dying in a Room Full of Morticians!

Everyone knows I am a comedian and actor. I call myself a comedian but I may be just a comic. The difference between the two confused me until one of my best friends cleared it up for me. His name is Patrick Bagdon. Check out his website at : http://www.betterwithketchup.com/

I should let you know that Patrick considers no subject taboo. He could make Freddy Krueger blush. His stuff is brilliant. I don't recommend you watch it with your toddlers, or while eating a big bowl of spaghetti, but his material would make George Carlin and Lenny Bruce smile. I am proud to call him a friend.

As we were driving together to an open mic on the Northside, I asked him about the differences between the two. He explained the distinctions as this. "A comic is someone who stands up in front of a microphone and tells jokes." A comedian is someone who is full time funny, through acting, theatre and performance. That makes me a comic. My acting gigs have not revolved around my humor. I actually googled the question and Patrick was right on the money.

Being a comic is a unique experience. Comics themselves are in a category of humanity alone. I have never met a comic who grew up in an idyllic, fully functional family, where they experienced no trauma growing up, and were amazingly well adjusted. Some of them appear quite together now but something was amiss somewhere between birth and the stage. The few that I have met who met this criteria were not very funny. We all bring some pain or baggage with us as we step up under the lights and spew our humorous musings and observations. Self-deprecation is a favorite subject for all of us.

You obviously know my story of addiction and chaos. Many of the comics I met have had similar chemical dependency issues. Some have suffered through horrifying childhoods, molestations and tragedy. The stage gives us an opportunity to indirectly vent on these issues and turn the tragedy into comedy. When someone laughs at one of my jokes which references some of the insanity I have made it through, their laughter seems to lighten the load I carry. Making someone happy for just those few seconds, while I am recounting my pain, makes having lived them validated and not just wasted grief.

Doing stand-up comedy is like a form of therapy for me. Instead of laying on a couch and being asked over and over, "How does that make you feel?" I can stand in front of a group of strangers and be relieved of my anxieties through their laughter and groans. It saves me a hundred bucks and adds a little sunshine to someone's dark day. When people laugh at words that I have cobbled together, it is like the smile someone gets while looking at a beautiful painting. It is appreciation of my artistry.

Open Mic nights are a part of any comic's performing life. They are a chance to tighten up existing material and try new bits on the guinea pig audience. Some guys are "Professional Open Micists." They work as a plumber by day and at night morph into another persona for personal satisfaction or to vent their frustrations at life through humor.

Most of the comics are trying to make it in a really tough business with the dream of having their own special on Comedy Central or HBO. I think I fall into this category, but acting is hedging its way towards the top of my career path. The great thing is that they are compatible. I have worked on a series or film and then rushed to a club to rant about my latest collision with society that night. It's a double dose of artistic expression.

On Open Mic nights one of two phenomena occur. Either the place is jumping and a good crowd is there to feed my comedy fix or it ends up as just a room full of comics and their boyfriend or girlfriend. The first example is great. Funny feeds on laughter. The second example can be like slowly dying in a room full of morticians.

Being the eccentric creatures that we are, performing in front of a group of only comics is both challenging and sometimes unbearable. Comics look at other comics in a couple of different ways. The first is like we are all contestants in the Miss America Pageant. We listen to Miss Alabama and think we could have written a better speech concerning the clubbing of baby seals. We watch Miss Ohio pace back and forth knowing our dance routine is better. We look at Miss Arkansas and say to ourselves "What is she doing here? She ain't even pretty." No offense to the women of Arkansas. You are all beautiful. Then we see Miss Rhode Island and are stunned. Her beauty, grace, speech and charisma are amazing...and that hair! You never want to do your set after Miss Rhode Island because you know she was brilliant. Doing your thing after Miss Nevada just fell on her butt is a dream come true. All you have to do is stay on your feet and you got it made.

Usually the reception a comic gives another is chilly or emotionless. When we make one of our fellow jesters laugh that is the ultimate homage of our work. It's like making the Mona Lisa smile. I laugh at all the comics I see just to pay respect to them for their courage. It takes some big stones to stand before a group of complete strangers and try to tickle their funny bone.

All in all the Open Mic is a necessary tool for all comics. Whether venting emotion or honing our featured appearance skills, the open forum provides comedy at its creative best and amateurish worst. I will be doing an Open Mic again tomorrow at Walter Payton's in Aurora. It is a preview for a feature spot down the road. I love watching other comics work their magic even if the trick doesn't work.

I learn what to do and what not to do when I see guys just like me trying to carve smiles into the stone faced observers. I have made friends with some of the country's hottest new talent and brushed elbows with guys whom I wanted to run from like the wicked witch of the west runs from a pail of water. It takes all kinds. I would say this though: when you go see live comedy, cut the performer a break. Don't heckle or jeer. If you think you're funnier try it yourself. The 7 minutes of time you interrupt while that guy is performing may be the most important 7 minutes of his day, week or life. Laugh loudly and enjoy your evening. Save the critique for your drive home or just leave it to the rest of us comics.