A Beauty and a 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.

NOTE to reader: I write about addiction, recovery and depression. Those are my challenges and issues. Please replace the word ADDICTION with the word that best suits you. Fear, insecurity, envy, jealousy and materialism are just a few. Facing the things that are holding us back from reaching our potential and finding peace within is my purpose... 


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....

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....

Overcoming Fear is Over Exposure

Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself will be hitting the shelves in late May. It will be available on AMAZON, KINDLE, and personalized copies at soulparole.com. It was a labor of love and pain. I had over 150,000 words of writings to comb through. My hope is that the book inspires addicts, and those with depression issues to seek treatment. You are not alone. I also hope that it gives the loved ones of addicts some insight into the way we think. Ultimately, I pray that it is a catalyst for anyone who has a fear or obstacle standing in the way of their ability to move forward. Dreams can become realities if you can get around your fear that they will come true. If you believe... they will.

The book was arranged loosely in chronological order, not by the date they were written. In Soul Parole I mention that in July of 2011, I was going to California to face a life long phobia. I feel that if I am going to make my mission on earth to encourage people to face their fears, I better face mine. I felt that it was hypocritical to speak of victory through adversity when I was not practicing what I preached. I am glad I faced it. As new ones' pop up I have the tools to overcome them. It will be the starting point of Soul Parole II: I was and I AM.

To me, fear is what holds us back from reaching our potential. There are healthy fears, and irrational ones. It is the power of our minds that discourages us from taking a leap of faith, not the real obstacles that stand in our way. Fear is paralyzing. It can override our rational, logical thinking. At the end of my using days I feared the thought of getting sober. The thought of living without a chemical crutch was even more difficult to imagine. It left me trapped in limbo between death and the fear of living life on its' terms.

I have three deep seeded fears that have gripped me for life. They are dentists, clowns and...bats! I have overcome the issue with dentists by finding one that uses gas and music to relax me during visits. That's one off the list. My revulsion of clowns is still with me. I can easily avoid them by not taking the family to the circus. The whole face painted, on a face, by a mime with big shoes thing will always be with me. I'm confident I can out run any of them.

My fear of bats goes much deeper. I hate EVERYTHING about them. My phobia revolves around the fact that I was uninformed about the grace of these misunderstood creatures. The terror bats created in me started when I was about seven, and I was Forty-five when I finally made peace with the winged devils. For years I was consumed with the fallacy that they were going to attack me or my family and give us all rabies. I feared for the dogs. I obsessed about them landing in my hair. There is a massive bat population in the county that I live in. I am one of the rare people who used to look for bat reports in the local paper. I have never taken my children to the zoo. I did not hang around wooded areas after dark. As I would find out through therapy, my fears were completely irrational, and centered in a deeper trauma.

Through a friend I heard ANIMAL PLANET was looking for people with deep seeded EXTREME animal phobias. I sent an email explaining my obsession with the filthy flying rats. I did not expect a call back. I figured it was like entering a sweepstakes. I was surprised when they emailed me back and set up a phone interview.

Through the course of my conversations with the therapy team, I was told of a treatment plan that Dr. Robin Zasio. from HOARDERS, was conducting. It was called exposure therapy. I thought I was familiar with it. I have heard of smokers who put butts into a jar when they are trying to kick the habit. When the urge to smoke comes along you take a whiff from the jar. They told me little more. I was to be flown to Sacramento and spend a week in a center for people with lifelong phobias of animals. I was hesitant but wanted to reclaim my nights, and NEEDED to get to the bottom of why they ruled me so long. The terror was very real. I had no idea what I was in for.

When I arrived at the center I was introduced to my housemates. They were younger ladies from the east coast. Laura was terrified of cockroaches. Roxanne freaked out at the sight of rats. Over the six days we were there we cried, and laughed, and shared our feelings about the pain these animals were creating in our lives. Without their support I would never have made it through the journey.

When we met Dr. Zasio she was all business! She is beautiful inside and out. She looks like a California blond. However, she is FAR from the stereotype. She is strong inside and out. She is also an amazing doctor and compassionate therapist. I am blessed to call her a friend. I didn't think so highly of her at the start of my therapy. She brings a full court press, but encouraged us  into making our own decisions in progressing through our phobias. She has a way of finding a persons, "I CAN DO IT," button. Her ability to read a person is uncanny.

I am glad I made the trip to the west coast.

My preconceived notions about exposure therapy were quickly dashed. This was hard core therapy squeezed into a week. The usual span of time for this treatment takes place over several months. It was the intensified, no holds barred version.

On the very first day we were given words, pictures and posters of our most feared animal. Our jaws nearly dropped when we were told to decorate our dorm rooms with them. We were all ready to bail after the first day. Each time I walked into my room I was assaulted by bats of all shapes and sizes. They were ALL staring back at me. Dr. Zasio was just warming up.

On the second day, irritable from a lack of sleep,we visited a Southern California college to face our demons. They were dead but as real as real gets. Each one of us was cajoled into touching them. I was out of my mind! I was physically sick as I approached a table full of dozens of preserved bat corpses. I  sobbed as I reached my hand out to put my finger on the beast that reminded me most of the one that had scarred as a small boy.

As each new day dawned we were pushed to a new level. During that day, my room was redecorated to resemble a cave. Rubber bats hung at eye level so that no matter where I walked bats would be hit me in the head. This was the therapeutic way to get me over my fear that living ones were going to land in my hair. Slowly, I was becoming desensitized of the nasty beasts. The girls were angry but moving forward. To say that each day was emotionally draining would be a gross under estimation. It was a daily barrage of fear then triumph. Each waking moment had me reliving memories I had spent years trying so desperately to blot out. The obsession was real. The memories flooded back in like I was a kid again.

After a week of getting closer and closer to live bats I was feeling less threatened by the greasy, winged critters. The final exposure was one I will never forget. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to face. The thought of intentionally seeking out the home of thousands of my lifelong nemesis was insanity.

My final exposure took place in "Old Sacramento." It is a quaint touristy area with riverboats, old time candy and souvenir shops. The 1800's era village covering several blocks. I had visited the area with Roxanne and Laura. I had no idea that the parking garage situated less than 100 yards from the downtown area was home to several thousand bats.

We waited until dusk. I was brought into the garage with Dr. Zasio. She was calm and reassuring in telling me that it was my final exposure. My fear level had started at about a nine. When I got out of the car and began walking towards the designated exposure area, I was on the verge of a panic attack. My discomfort was at about an eleven. Just more than ten for Spinal Tap fans.

Bats navigate with sonar, and have an amazing sense of timing. They are blind. Just like a grandfather clock chiming at midnight, the bats began to come out as the sun set. Through tiny crevices in the parking garage the black winged creatures spilled from the man made dwelling. First it was by the dozens, then hundreds, then thousands. There was no where to go. The funny thing was that not one of them hit me or brushed me. I could feel the whoosh of their wings as they darted by me. I was frozen, but invigorated, by the adrenalin that was rushing through my veins.

In one of the most beautiful scenes of nature I have ever been witness to, the bats flew from the garage and fell into formation with thousands of others. They were coming from the trees and buildings along the Sacramento river. They formed a perfect aerial formation. It was like a military fly over. It makes the line of geese formations pale in comparison. Hundreds of thousands of bats followed the river, and as if on cue, turned and made their way around a skyscraper in downtown Sacramento to search for food. They like mosquitoes and bugs, not full grown men. It was breathtaking.

After the initial shock and awe, I was directed to a baby bat that had fallen from the safety of the upper ceiling. It was no more than two inches long. I didn't like the little devils but I do not want to see any of God's creatures suffer. After being given special gloves, I held down my hand and the tiny bald creature crawled into the glove. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. My lifelong fear was arrested in that moment. I was given a chance to help a defenseless baby. God has a funny way of helping us sometimes. His methods of teaching me new lessons no longer surprise me. I am free.

During my therapy with the doctor it became clear that I associated bats with my stepfather. He didn't like kids very much. When I was small we went to a park. He tossed a can in the air and a bat flew into it. He had me stand at his side as the ugliest creature I had ever seen, staggered from the container and flew away. He thought it was funny. He saw my discomfort. I was ingrained with a fear that would plague me until my work with Dr. Zasio.

I can say with complete honesty that I still don't care for bats, but they no longer rule my behavior. I can take my family to the forest preserve or zoo. In the episode of "My Extreme Animal Phobia," Squeaky and I revisit the park where my stepfather had tormented me. Some bats even flew around us. I did fine. I no longer fear the nights in the country setting where I live. It reinforced my theory that irrational fear is usually tied to a deeper issue. Mine was.

You can see the episode on ANIMAL PLANET. I am blessed that they gave me such a life changing opportunity. If you go to Animal Planet.com enter "My Extreme Animal Phobia, then, "Man Faces Lifelong Fear." The video of the parking garage exposure will come up. Roxanne and Laura also made peace with cockroaches and rats.

Fear plagues all of us. Some of it healthy, a lot of it irrational. I am grateful to ANIMAL PLANET for the opportunity to experience exposure therapy. It is further testimony that you can face any fear. There is no obstacle that stands in the way of your dreams or unloading the baggage of your past. All you need is hope, faith, and the hand of a friend.

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....

Da, Can I Have A Sleepover?...Hey, Da Come Check Out My Tattoo!

When I was growing up I remember the adults in my life telling me things like "Slowdown! Life is gonna pass you by," or "The older you get, the faster the days go." I remember shrugging off these crusty old sayings and hurrying off to my next girlfriend or place I just had to be. Now I find myself saying those same things to my kids. The things I told myself I would never say to my kids come flying out of my mouth like Andy Rooney on a "60 Minutes" rant.

Some of my favorites I use are, "Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, all you have to look forward to is work." "Things were a lot different when I was a kid! We couldn't chew gum or wear shorts." "If you think you're wearing that to school, you better think again." These nuggets of wisdom seem to be in our parental DNA. Sometimes when I hear myself saying them, it seems as though they are coming out of my mouth like my father was saying them for me.

All parents, whether they admit it or not, decide the future of our kids or label them in the toddler to Elementary school age. "This one is gonna be the genius." "This one's gonna be the Go Getter." "This one is gonna be the teenage nightmare." "This one is heading for disaster." We seem to think we have them all figured out by how well they pick up their toys and how they play with the other kids around. They haven't even made it into kindergarten and we have figured out if they're heading for Harvard or as the head fry cook at Burger King!

Most of the time we are wrong. The genius is the troublemaker. The slacker is a straight A student. The one headed for disaster is organized and mature. Every once in a while we nail it right on the head. I certainly have seen that the time is flying by and the last 12 years with my kids seem like 12 weeks! When they were little I would get frustrated at how much they bothered me. Now I wish they would bother me more.

Amanda is our middle daughter. The Jan Brady if you will. I call her Sunny, because she has a smile that can light up a room. She also reminds me a lot of myself. I see the same patterns of thinking and impulsiveness that was a part of my life for so long. She is a free spirit. Just like the "Ol' Man," she definitely would have made it to Woodstock and Haight/Ashbury if she was born a few decades earlier. Thankfully she doesn't share the chemical connection with me. I can read her like a book. The good thing about our similar personalities is that when I talk to her about "grown up stuff" she usually relates to me pretty well.

Sometimes the transition from kid to young adult seems to happen overnight. This was definitely the case with Amanda. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I rolled out of bed and headed downstairs for a cup of coffee to get my day started. To my shock and surprise there was a strange woman eating Cocoa Crispies at my kitchen table. She was beautiful, curvy and the "Boob Gods" had visited her overnight. I remember pouring my coffee and acknowledging this woman at my table with a simple greeting and then went racing up the stairs to find my wife.

I found my wife in the bathroom putting on make-up and slammed the door behind me, frantic and out of breath. "Squeaky, there is a strange woman eating cereal at our kitchen table," I cried as she curled her eyelashes with some horrible looking contraption. She glanced, unmoved in my general direction and said "Honey, that's Amanda." I was horrified. I told her she had to be mistaken. This woman was built well on the top and the bottom. Our daughter is built like a board!

My Amanda is a "Tomboy" who prefers tee shirts and sweat pants to girlie stuff! Again she remarked, "Our baby is growing up." NO! I cried. Take this one back! What happened to the little, brooding, innocent child who used to play Guitar Hero and snack on bags of Doritos! I want the sleepovers and the all night giggle fests as I cooked frozen pizza and officiated the overnight festivities. I was in a tailspin, my mind was racing. I agreed that the young woman could stay but the boobs and bottom had to go back.

It all happened over night! Like the "Boob and Butt" Fairy visited my daughter's room in the dark of night and waved her magic wand, transforming my baby girl into a WOMAN. If I ever get my hands on that little so and so, I am gonna give her a good swift kick in her big Fairy butt. For the first few weeks I could only look her in the eye or shoot my gaze left or right. I couldn't bear to see those nasty boy attractors pointing my way. When she turned to walk away Bam! Right in the kisser! Her JLO bottom was following her everywhere she went.

She is 18 now. A woman by the letter of the law. Last night she came over with her boyfriend Chris and I made a wonderful spaghetti dinner for the whole brood. Remember, I am the Irishman who can make better red gravy than my Italian wife. Before we sat down to break bread she asked me if I wanted to see her tattoo. It was no big deal. I had bought her packages of Britney Spears and 'N Sync tattoos before. They were harmless fun that could be easily cleaned up with some soapy water and a little elbow grease.

I knew I was fooling myself. It was real. I was grateful that her permanent choice was that of a Celtic cross. It was done tastefully on her back shoulder and is really quite beautiful. No anger or "Daddy speeches" would make it disappear. I have 3 of the darned things. One is a Spirit shield, a tribute to my Cherokee blood. One is the earth with Celtic wings, symbolizing the world's endless possibilities and the third is a hawk flying into the moonlight. Hawks and birds of prey are my favorite animals.

She did it to me again. My baby girl is a woman now. I can give my advice but whether she takes it or leaves it is up to her. I am grateful that it is a cross, making a statement about her spiritual life. I have to bite my tongue sometimes. I want them to snap into line like when they were little. Now when they walk out the door I lose control of the decisions they make. We have raised our kids the best that we could. She didn't call from a jail or school office. She works and goes to school. She is beautiful and respectful. Most of all I am grateful that as we sat down to dinner last night she didn't say,"Da, I'm dropping out and heading for California!"

Acceptance and faith are the key to parental and personal harmony for me now. I have done all I can to raise her right. I have showed her things in life that will help her succeed and have been a living example of how to become a drunken failure. I am glad we both made it safely to the other side. She is a smart kid and I know that as parents we do our best, then roll the dice. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't. I can live with her Celtic cross. Sometimes when I get angered by a boy or man looking at her in an un-Christianly way, I wish that darned "Boob and Butt" fairy would come back to our house and refund my little girl. God Bless!