Welcome to Zanie's for the First Time Tommy Connolly!

In the last chapter Ain't Life Zany?, I mentioned that performing there represented a closing of the circle for me from addiction to sobriety. It was also opening a door of comedy opportunity and a milestone in my new life. It nearly didn't happen at all.

Bert Haas is the "man" at Zanies. Average in size with an infectious smile, he is all business. When he says be on time it's not a California suggestion. It's a Judge's edict. I was coming in from Plainfield and left the house at 6pm thinking 90 minutes was more than enough time to reach the club with time for a quick bite. Squeaky and my oldest daughter Andrea were accompanying me on my peacemaking journey and we were in for the ride of our lives.

Every conceivable traffic snarl, accident and construction slowdown was thrown up in front of us. The trip down the double nickel usually took 40 minutes. 40 minutes into this trip we were only at Harlem Avenue. Thankfully God graced someone with GPS design and technology. We shot through Berwyn and Cicero and all of the back streets that shot off of Ogden Avenue. We literally pulled up to the club at 7:30. I double parked in the bike only lane, kissed Squeaky and made a mad dash for the front door.

The wonderful girl at the door must have been expecting me because instead of a "Hello" I got a "Through the kitchen and up the stairs." I arrived at the top of the club out of breath, sticky and panicky. Mr. Haas was there too. He curtly greeted me with a "I was just coming down to look for you." I was the last guy to make it. I have been told if you are late you are out of luck.

I have done dozens of showcases in comedy clubs around Chicago. Loosely speaking a showcase is a show that features a variety of comics. There is no feature or headliner, just an emcee and a parade of hopefuls. This was a true SHOWCASE. It is where you are showcasing your talent for the booker to play at the club or other clubs the booker handles. Bert gave a great crash course on comedy, expectations, jokes, being a pro, rejection and life. It was priceless advice for a comic or anyone trying to achieve any goal in life.

I was the old guy in the room at 45. The average age of the other comics was about 25. The mix of size and shape of my fellows was diverse in race and ethnicity. It was a comedy melting pot. My head was spinning but I wasn't nervous. I really didn't have heady expectations about the performance. As I sat looking at the talent around me I was grateful to be among the few who get the chance to play such a legendary venue.

I was performing tenth or there about. The walls were covered with signed pictures from all the greats. I could fill the rest of this page with names alone. I smiled when I saw David Brenner's photo hanging across from the bar and a short distance from the ladies room. He had a ringside seat to all the action. He would like it that way. I snapped a picture to send him as a memento. It was also a reminder of those days when I walked by in a different dimension. In that moment I was in crystal clarity.

The house was packed and many of my friends came to see me perform. The youngsters that hit the stage before me were good. Some of them amazing. A couple of them will be stars. I sat with my wife and daughter at the rear of the club waiting for my number to come up. I was lucky. My number should have been up a long time ago.

I stroked Squeaky's hair and looked at my beautiful daughter and some new realities hit me and old ones were solidified. As for the new, I am a good comic but it is becoming a young man's sport. These boys had game. I will not become the "next big thing." I am cool with that. The new breed is faster and sharper. I didn't start performing comedy until I was 40! There is a market for guys like me. I have come pretty far pretty fast in five years, two and a half of them sober.

I am a story teller. I look forward to the release of "Soul Parole" and getting out on the road and telling people the story of my life as a depressed drunken caterpillar and my new life as a sober, functional, husband, father, actor and comic butterfly. I enjoy my work with Comics for Convicts. I will never stop performing. It's in my blood. Making people laugh is my greatest high and no one gets hurt when I use it.

The true reality of the night was seeing new friends and old school mates in the audience there to cheer me on. I have a great wife and kids. I have wonderful people in my life that I can have true working, functional relationships with. Addicts don't have that luxury. I may not make it as a big star or play Vegas. I have appeared in and been featured in some great films already with some amazing actors in just 10 months. I have played Zanie's. I am rich beyond anything Ben Franklin's can provide.

I held my own on stage. I did not slay 'em nor did I bomb. I held my own. I hugged my friends and I thanked Mr. Haas. Then I thanked God for all his grace. I got in the car with my beautiful wife and daughter, the true riches in my life, and headed home. The ladies were dosing off as I reviewed my performance. I always think I can do better.  I don't know where things are headed but I trust God. He's been doing a great job running my life when I let him. The sounds echoed in my ears..."Please welcome to Zanie's for the first time Tommy Connolly." It was the first. It may be the last. But it was.

"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.

Roll The Dice! Even When The Odds are Against You!...

Every Day is A Gift. I use that statement in direct relation to my own experiences from how I used to live my life to how I live my life now. For 28 years I took life for granted. I assumed I would wake up the next day no matter how much booze and drugs I put into my system. I did insane things with insane people. I risked my life over and over again. I carried around massive amounts of emotional baggage created from my yesterdays. I obsessed and fretted through anxiety ridden days wondering what the future held. I did not have the capacity to live in the moment.

Now in my sober life I have found myself and made friends with me. I have mended, and continue to mend, the damage inflicted from years of chemical abuse upon my family, friends and loved ones. I do live in the "now." It is a lot less stressful. I have learned a lot from my past and it is useful information for what not to do in the future. I have also been able to share my experiences of addiction, homelessness, recovery, faith, hope and new found success.

That being said, I am not gonna blow sunshine up your a** when a tornado is coming. Sometime life is excruciating. I lost another friend yesterday. I know he is in heaven. His name was, and is, Eddie Garcia, a film director, writer, producer, father, husband and everything I aim to be. He was confined to a wheel chair but lived life like a marathon runner. He cast me in his next film. God had other plans. We spoke many times and he taught me about life and acting. He sucked every moment out of life like juice from an orange. Today he is directing the stars in heaven. Please pray for his family. He was a warrior when it came to faith. I have seen more people pass in this year than in the last 20. My faith is strong. I know they are free from the insanity of life on Earth. Maybe this is Hell! Earth that is!

It wasn't a gift when Japan got devastated, or New Zealand or Alabama more recently. Reality can be a bitch. The translation of Every Day is a Gift is that "The sun shines and the rain falls on the good and the evil of this world." We have to make the best of what we have. Not what we have not. I wish I could sit at this keyboard everyday and write a beautiful piece about how grand things are. That would be a lie from me and an injustice to you.

When life is serving me a s**t sandwich I have to either be thankful for the meal or keep the faith that a better one is coming. I know life moves in seasons. Just like depression and addiction. When I start to focus too much on what's wrong with the picture I have to make a concerted effort to look at how lucky I really am! I am truly blessed. The pity pot is full. I don't choose to sit there any longer.

God gives me what I need. Not what I want. Sometimes He gives me more than my wildest dreams. Other times He takes away things to humble me and keep me right sized. All of these things keep me growing. As long as I am growing I am alive. If I slow down and stop trying to grow I slip back towards the old me and that leads me to the bottle and self-destruction.

The most beautiful flowers start out in a little pile of shit!

Poem: Bono written by Charles Bukowski, "Roll The Dice."