There's a HEROin Epidemic and it's NOT JUST other NeighborHOODS!

This is an unedited version of a blog I wrote in September 2011. It came full circle this last week. Government does work. People don' speak out enough when it does. I'm saying it right here!



 "Rally Round Recovery 2011" was a huge success. There was a lot of hope, strength and love in the air that afternoon. I was humbled and honored to be Spokesman and emcee of such a special event. I was thrilled to speak with Senators, Congressmen, Commissioners, Judges and public servants who genuinely care about the  addiction concerns facing our county, city, state and villages.

I will never forget sharing the painful story of Dr. John Roberts' Family who lost their son BILLY to a heroin overdose while friends left for a baseball game. Dr. Roberts' family is fighting for legislation (SB 1701) that grants temporary immunity for those who try to help save the life of someone overdosing on drugs or alcohol. For those who say they are breaking the law! I say yes they are, but they do not deserve to die. It's a family affair. His beautiful wife and daughter Amanda worked the rally making certain that every person within earshot got information about heroins latching onto suburbia.

Their organization "Be a HERO save a life", (Heroin Epidemic Relief Organization) is fighting to change legislation. Check out BEAHEROFOUNDATION.ORG. Donate to this worthy cause. Drugs are illegal but if it was your kid wouldn't you want the kids with him or her to call the police instead of watching them die or dumping them in a field to die alone? That is what happens now in Illinois because the caller and the kids with the overdosing person are arrested or are afraid of being arrested.

The plague of Heroin, Bath Salts, Prescription drugs and designer pills is running rampant. America has a pill for everything and our kids see that. They need only go to our medicine cabinets or Grandma's for a couple of pills to trade at school for whatever they need. Wake up! Educate yourself.

You can have a great kid. He or she can get good grades. They may say all the right things. They may go to church. They may walk out the door and do drugs and never come back again. This is the new reality. If you think it can't happen to you. Call the Roberts family. Billy was an amazing human being. He is saving lives today.

I am pleased to say that both chambers of the Illinois Legislature signed SB1701 the first week of January, 2012.

Governor Pat Quinn Signed it into Law last Monday....Way To go Dr. Roberts and family! You guys are all HEROES! Billy is smiling....

Kudos to the Illinois State Legislature and all those involved with getting this life saving law enacted. You too are heroes....

Facing Fears...Showing up....and facing the Pang's of Life...

Last Friday I did my first stage production in Joliet with the Theater Guild! The last time I was in a play was in third grade when I played a rabbit. Oh, and in first grade, I was Santa! We are doing Fred Carmichael's "Meet My Husbands." It is a comedy and very much like "I Love Lucy". It has been well received. I play Grant Griswold, the spoiler, the guy you love to hate. I haven't gotten one laugh or a peep from the audience so I must be doing okay. THEY HATE ME! The character is crass, rude, vain, smarmy, manipulative and a player. Obviously a complete polar opposite from the way I was when I was using on the streets for twenty years.

Two things really struck me about the part and doing live theater. First of all, on opening night I was absolutely terrified to the point of a panic attack. There were only 30 people in the crowd! Four days earlier I was perfectly comfortable telling jokes and my story of addiction to 300 of the toughest dudes on the planet and it didn't phase me. Now I'm in front of the neighbors and freaking out. I realized that I was out of my element and I had 8 other people on stage with me. If I fail doing stand up, it's me against the world. I can beat myself up and move on. I was afraid I would let the other actors down and it was really freaking me out. Robin Christopher and Mo the Stage Manager, Luke, Yvonne, Michael, Jacqueline, Devon, Laurel and Joe all helped me as a team. They were all there for me.

Saturday, I also did my first real speaking role in a film called "Chasing Hollywood" being shot here in the Windy City. Check YouTube, there are trailers up. My role was a lot of fun. I made my way back to the theater in time for my role as the hated Grant Griswold. I also made contact with an extraordinary woman over the last 10 day that will put this into perspective, I hope. We are all messengers and we all have roles to play. Some, we play unwittingly and deliver the message not realizing we are doing it. Some messages we deliver like diatribes, preplanned and packaged to be dumped on our loved ones, friends or co-workers.

Sometimes we know we have a tough job or message to deliver or road to go down and we face it with dignity and grace as best as we can. Kerry faced the death of her husband with grace and took it farther by taking in sweet Misty, a foster child with truly special needs. They saved each other's lives. Kerry could have walked away. Apathy is humanity's most pervasive sickness as far as I'm concerned. I was an inch away from cancelling my gig with the Comedy/Faith Outreach at Statesville but the reasonable voice in my melon said I couldn't do it. It ended up being one of the most memorable and inspirational days of my life.

Being a messenger can be just being there. Sometimes it's huge. Other times it's just a smile. Sometimes it's adopting a foster child. It might be giving hope and a laugh to some guys who may never see freedom again. It may be being with someone you love, knowing in your heart that the story is going to have an unhappy ending and staying anyway. My wife stayed with me when I was drunk, pissing the bed, screaming, useless and pathetic. She saw something in me I didn't have the capacity to grasp. She calls it an aura. I'll let her explain that in another blog.

Everyone knows that I am a Beatles fan but I'm a John Lennon Freak. His music was light years ahead of its time. His activism unmatched, his complexity noted, his genius real and his passion to the bone. Through some luck and some messages I became friends with May Pang, Lennon's companion and love during the so called "Lost Weekend Years" of 1973-1975. May was hand picked by Yoko Ono to look after John and keep him out of trouble for a while. She did all that, and more. I had a "Lost Decade." May inspired John and was much more than a personal assistant. They were the real deal. From everything I have read, John was playing pretty hard out in California and May kept him growing, writing and getting himself together for creating some of his best stuff.

The point of bringing her up is to first thank her for her generosity in the memorabilia we have spoken of that she is sending me. I truly loved John. I feel her love for him. She had to know there was going to be an end of the line. The proverbial crash into the brick wall was inevitable. I wouldn't dare ask her that but she knew. I feel he loved her too. Look at the pictures from then of him with her and Ringo, George, Harry Nillson, Keith Moon and the whole crazy crew. John looked really happy again. May stayed for all 15 rounds until the knock out and still walks around with dignity and grace, respecting his memory and legacy straight down the line. Her new book "Instamatic Karma" is filled with her photos and cool insights. Hopefully, she will be in Chicago soon. She has also inspired me to launch the "Every Day Is A Gift Radio Blog." Coming soon! Details by May.

From Kerry to May, to you, and you, and you! We all have something positive to add to the world. Sometimes it's saying the right thing or nothing at all. Sometimes it's climbing a mountain or having the cocoa ready at the bottom. It may be building a castle or holding a nail. It can be just being there when you don't want to be. It can be facing your fear when you're dying to run. It can be sticking it out when you know there's a chance you're going to run into a brick wall. Karma is simple. You get out what you put in. If you live in apathy don't be shocked that no one cares what's going on in your world. MAKE LIFE HAPPEN! HAVE A DAY! That felt good. Let's try that again after we go make someone smile.

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.

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.

Angels and Dreamins'.....Near Death Experiences and Visitations! Part One!

By the end of the chapter you will think I'm a few coins short of paying the Ferryman or right on the money. Either way I am dedicated to sharing it all. The subjects I am going to breach are often dismissed as wishful thinking, hopeful delusion or just plain nutty imaginations. I have firm conviction in the areas of dream interpretation, spirit visitation, guardian angels and dimensions beyond the 3 we currently experience as humans. I very much enjoy programs like, "I Survived...Dead and Back," "Ancient Aliens," and "Celebrity Ghost Stories."

 I believe them or many of them. At the least I am open to the possibilities. I have experienced some unusual,unexplainable spiritual encounters personally. I also know there are hucksters and manipulators out there who manufacture their so called "psychic abilities" to pray on weak and hopeful. The bottom line is that it is ludicrous to think that me or scientists can say that these experiences are hooey! Darwin himself said that if there were more components to his single cell theory that the whole theory must be thrown out. We now know there is much more to a single cell organism than the one Darwin peered at in his 100x magnification microscope. If you are a Darwinist read up on it. While you're at it cover the "missing link" for me. I know what the missing link is. It is God! I refuse putting limitations on the creator of the universe and I know that with God anything is possible. More importantly, "to not lean on my own understanding."

My belief in these other dimensions and experiences are based on the fact that we use very little of our brain's capacity. It's less than 10% I think. That leaves 90% of sensory ability most of us have not developed. It has got to be there for a reason!  My personal beliefs do not conflict with my Christian views because there are frequent references to "angels being among us" and "visions" by the messengers of God. There is the appearance of the Nephilim and their procreating with humans. Virtually all cultures describe objects in the sky and encounters with creatures not of this world.

Ultimately I am okay with it because I do not try to define God. He is eternal and omnipotent, no beginning or end. No where in the Bible does it say that earth and sky were all He created in this universe only. He created the whole shootin' match. Earth was just a part. I believe there is much, much more. To think that we are the only intelligent life in a universe that grows daily is putting man's conception of God's limitations on Him. I can not fathom how one can put parameters on an omnipresent, all powerful force that we do not comprehend. The small mindedness of man and his narcissistic thinking creates this hog wash!

I am going to share 3 "unexplainable" experiences I had with "the other side," and mental connections that I know are not of this earth. Terra Firma is a spec in an ocean of galaxies. I know these experiences were as real as puddin' pie and I am grateful to have had them. If you disagree, start your own book. It wasn't so long ago that man thought the earth was flat. Galileo was almost executed as a heretic, Einstein a fool.

My grandmother and I were very close. My mom worked hard and Gram stepped in to play a life shaping role in my early youth. We had a connection beyond conversational. I felt her all the way through from my inner core to hers. In 1991 she was in the hospital suffering from emphysema and a myriad of terminal conditions. On her last day here, I was home for lunch from my job and received a call from my mother. She said I should stop after work and see Gram because the doctors didn't think she would make it through the night.

She was at Silver Cross Hospital in Joliet. I was working in Shorewood a few miles away. I finished my lunch and headed back to work. I would stop at the hospital at the end of the day. While driving on I-80, just before Larkin Avenue, I was overwhelmed with an inner feeling that I had to go to the hospital THEN! I exited at Larkin and headed back to the hospital. The voice was powerful and non-negotiable. I entered the room to find my mother pacing, as she had been there for hours. I suggested she go grab a smoke and a Coke and I would sit with Grams.

Mom left for a break, exhausted and emotionally drained. Grams was propped up in her bed with tubes and drips stuck into all the veins available for pumping in medicines. Her eyes were open and moving but she was unable to communicate verbally with me. I sat at the edge of her bed and took her hand. I told her I loved her and that she was like a mother to me. I expressed my gratitude for her always looking after me and accepting me unconditionally. She knew of my alcoholism and had suffered through years of it with my grandfather. I cried and rubbed her hand, thanking her for being such a bright light in my universe. She was a huge Bulls fan and I told her she had to get better and come home because she couldn't miss their first championship.

As those words spilled from my lips she peered at me. Her eyes darted left and right searching into mine. She took a deep breath and exhaled. It wasn't an exhale I had ever heard before. It was complete, a full expulsion of all the air in her lungs. The sound seemed to go on for a minute. I know it was much shorter than that and that she was gone. I told her I loved her and kissed her forehead and then completely lost it. My mother returned to find her mother had passed and me in hysteria. It was one of the most difficult yet beautiful things I have ever experienced. The sounds that a person makes on that final breath are not like Hollywood. It is chilling in its finality. I think of her daily.

What I experienced that day was not of this dimension or plain. The feeling that pulled at me to go immediately to the hospital instead of later in the evening was unrelenting. It wasn't a quick and easy way to end my work day. My inner spirit was guiding me to my grandmother and told me she needed me right then! Her passing in my presence explains the urgency. The confessions of my love for her were not a staged drama with a climactic ending. God put me there for her and for me! I drank a lot that night and cried about losing my rock. Then my anger at her death turned to thankfulness for God allowing me to be a part of her last moments here.