"The Quiet Man" and My Dad....

I woke up at exactly midnight today. It is the one year anniversary of my dad's death. Before you read on please understand that I am sad inside but glad that he is at peace. My life has changed dramatically in the year since his passing. Some of it good, some of it bad but all of it sobering and real.

I've heard it said that time heals all wounds. I didn't take the time to look up who said it. I disagree with the quote at this point. It seems harder now than when he went to meet his maker. He was in pain then and I prayed for him to be relieved of his human suffering. At 7:27pm July 21, 2010 God answered my prayers and brought him home.

I was watching "The Quiet Man," the John Wayne/Catherine O'Hara classic, set in Ireland, when I got the call from my sister at the hospital that he was gone. It was his favorite movie. Squeaky and I were watching the movie at the time because she had never seen it. I wanted to share Dad's favorite with her. It was kind of befitting that we were in the middle of THAT film when he passed on to paradise. Pop was big on making grand entrances and exits.

Tonight when I woke up at the stroke of midnight I actually called out his name hoping he would answer. I wanted him to give me a sign that he was here and safe up there. I wanted so desperately to know that he woke me up. Maybe he would knock a book off my night stand or rustle the blinds in an acknowledgement from the other side. He is here. I need only look in the mirror and see him. I resemble him more and more each day.

I am grateful that I was a good son in the final year and a half of his life. I was humbled to shower and shave him and help my second mom and sisters look after him whenever I could. I didn't do much but I did what I could. I can say that I was able to tell him all the things I wanted to say to him and heard all the things I wanted to hear from him in that last year and a half. I know he was proud of me. I know God got me sober when He did to be there for those days he needed me most.

At his memorial I did what amounted to a stand-up routine about him and his life. That is what he would have wanted. It was a celebration of his life. We laughed through tears and stories about his mannerisms and quirks. It was my best gig ever. I owe my sense of humor to him more than anyone. My Pop could tell a joke about darned near any subject. His laugh was a blend of Curly from "The Stooges" and Arnold Horshak from "Welcome back Kotter". It was infectious.

2 months later, in the first week of October, we had most of his ashes interred at Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery. The service was grand and patriotic. The twenty one gun salute was deafening. Each shot rattled me to my core. I broke down. All the emotion and stoicism I tried to display the previous 18 months collapsed and I imploded. My eyes flowed like rivers. I crawled around on the ground frantically searching for each of the ejected shells from the rifles that were fired in salute to SGT. Joseph Robert Connolly.

The remaining part of his ashes are to be returned to Ireland just as soon as I can get there. It will complete the wishes of two things my father was passionate about. He loved America and being a Vet and he loved Ireland. A bagpiper played Danny Boy and Amazing Grace as the tribute was ending. Danny Boy was his favorite Irish song.

The military service was held on a Friday. My second sister Chris Jaksy had been telling me for years to try acting to compliment my comedy. My feelings about mortality were sensitive and raw. I didn't want to leave any regrets on the table. She gave me some names of Chicago casting agents. I sent out my stats and thin resume to a few on Saturday. On Sunday I was contacted by Darlene Hunt, CEO and president of Extraordinary Casting in Chicago She wanted me to play a featured extra role in "Ride Along." It would later be renamed "The Chicago Code" the following day.

My head was still spinning the next day as I sat a few feet from Jennifer Beals and Jason Clarke on my first day in show business. I thought about my dad and was bitten by the acting bug BAD! I loved everything about it. I wear my Dad's cross and carry a memento from him on every movie or TV project I do. I figure we are going to Hollywood together. I was not nervous about working with celebrities. My father's death showed me that mortality is for everybody. Some jobs are just more glamorous than others. That takes us back to now.

Since that day I have appeared as an extra in 5 TV series and 2 films. I have had speaking roles in 5 films and have done 2 commercials and an industrial film. That's a busy 9 months. I have been blessed and driven. My comedy career has put me on stages around Chicago and at Statesville Prison as a part of Comics for Convicts Faith Outreach. Saturday I leave for Northern California for a week to do a project on a reality show. It is my first Hollywood gig on the west coast.

I miss the Big Bopper more each day. Not less. I owe so much to him. He never gave up on me but did lay some tough love on me at the right times. I do not mourn his death. I mourn for his life and wish we could talk about the Bears just one more time. I feel him sometimes. I see him every time I shave. I thank God for my sobriety and his timing for it. My dad gave me so many gifts and bailed me out of jam after jam. I will make it through today moment by moment. I will watch the Duke and I will listen to Danny Boy endlessly and give thanks over a tear or three for having known Bob Connolly. I am proud to be his son. Thanks God for your grace, mercy and my dad.

The Navy, One Brief Chapter and a Tribute to Those Who Fight for Freedom.

Shortly before turning 40 in 2004 I joined the United States Naval Reserves, based out of Great Lakes Naval Station, Great Lakes, Illinois. Assigned to command NPSTRU 1326, Unit 87740, I came in at a Rank of SA(SN). The unit is made up of men and women who did not serve in the NAVY or RESERVE. Once you are trained you are attached to a unit and the ships, bullets and wars are the same. I had almost joined the Army at 18 but my family convinced me to try college first. At forty the Navy was the only branch that took an enlisting man of my age. This has changed as the wars of Iraq and Afghanistan have stretched the regular troops and Guard thin.

I scored very high on my ASVAB test and rushed for entry. I was not attached to a specific job specialty as my test score was so high. I went in general classification. I was in the complete grip of my over indulgence for booze and depression and was hammered when I signed on the line for Uncle Sam. My recruiter was a good man. His job is to recruit sailors, not smell their breath. I answered his questions honestly about the many broken bones, mishaps and dark spots I had encountered along the way to that day. He helped me fill out the paperwork in an acceptably worded manner.

I was in no physical or psychological shape to be a sailor. My heart was! I was not pro-war. In fact I was anti-war and pro-freedom. I do love America! At that time I thought we were spending too much treasure on Iraq and not enough on Afghanistan. After all, that is where those responsible for the 911 attack had come from. I also knew that there was oil and strategic advantages to a war in Iraq. That is one of the sad facts of war. They are fought for ideals and additional contingencies. No matter what you think about it, we all like to drive cars and Iraq is right next to Iran, a genuine threat under the current regime. I was joining to help protect the freedom of my son's sons.

I reported and was thrown head first into military life. Most of the officers were younger than me. A few of them saluted me thinking I was an officer in my Civies. The base was like a self contained town. You didn't need to leave the gated area to find a pizza, bowling alley, bar or a bottle. I found a few of those. They put you up in hotel-like rooms instead of barracks for monthly training. I would drink enough to get my nerves satisfied but not too much that I couldn't handle PT or classroom study the next day.

Running was almost impossible. I have broken my right ankle 3 times and my left knee is shot from sports. My panic attacks were occurring regularly and I was realizing that although my patriotism was that of a 25 year old, my body was that of a 50 plus year old. That was due to the abuse I had put it through. I stuck it out for a year. At some point along the way I realized I could not handle it physically or emotionally. I also didn't want to put a brother sailor or soldier at risk because I wasn't up for the mission and was falling apart upstairs and downstairs.

I called my recruiter and explained that the ankle and physical ailments that plagued me were really taking a toll on me. The unit allowed for an administrative separation. It broke my heart. I am still technically under contract until April of 2012. This is the first time I have really spoken or wrote in detail about the experience. For a long time I felt like a failure, like I let my country down by not being able to cut it.

I know if I had been more forthright in my application they never would have taken me in the first place. To this day I am still uncertain if I am supposed to check off "veteran" or "military service" on applications. I have never tried to take advantage of any program the government offers veterans because I did not complete my contract. I left the service "honorably" by the paperwork but not by my "code book."

I am proud of that year now. I owe it to Fred Tormey, a high school friend, former U.S. Marine and current Arizona police officer. I still gave a year. I still gave it my best for that year. I took a risk that many will not or could not. My family thought I was nuts. My wife knows how I feel about this country now and forever. America is the greatest place on Earth. Our freedoms can lead us down some destructive paths but we are free. I can write this book. I can go where I please. I have the right to be me.

In my year I learned why guys re-up and go back for another tour in Hell after they just got out of it. They have left family there, dead and alive. When you are with your unit, your family becomes everyone in the units' family and vice-versa. You literally have each others backs. When one falls or leaves it creates a break in the chain that makes it feel strange or wrong for a while. I never saw action but I did see the brotherhood.

Do me a favor, not just this weekend. I do this every time I see a Vet. I don't care if you hate war. If you like your freedom, Starbucks and the right to say f**k the president, then follow my instructions. Pass this on to your kids. When you see a Vet, walk up to them no matter how young or old they are and say "Thank you for serving our country." That will mean a lot to them. Shake their hand and feel the rough grip of war. Look into the tired eyes of combat. Stop and realize that these fine young men and women are part of an all VOLUNTEER military. They are part of the greatest fighting force protecting the FREEDOM of not only the USA, but giving hope to millions around the world.

God Bless America and the World.