In The Navy and Outta My Mind!

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.

The I Haven't Kicked The Bucket Yet List

Thank you to all of you who have purchased my first book SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself (AMAZON). The feedback has been positive so far. I am humbled that people have said it has inspired them to seek treatment, or to catch their goals. I bared my SOUL in the book on my path to rediscovery.

In the chapter, "I Was Dead But Didn't Die," I share a candid look at the day I tried to take my life in April of 2004. I am glad I am still here. It is frightening to reflect on the fact that even a near death experience didn't stop my drinking and using. It would be five more years until I surrendered and found sobriety.

While I was going through boxes to find items for the garage sales. I ran across some journals and poems I had written over the years. The first one begins in 1983, my year of High School graduation and entry into college. I am reviewing them all now and am certain there will be stories to share based on where I was "at" during those years.

The last diary I found was from August of 2003. It was eight months before I attempted to "off" myself. I was surprised what the pages held inside. There was a list of "100 things I wish to do over the next 40 years." A year later death moved to number one on my "to do" list. If I would have succeeded in my death mission I would have been 2 years short OF 40.

Some of the goals, and wishes have come true. That is, in sobriety. I was out of my mind when I wrote the list. I was employed with a company that delivered medicine around five states. It was just me, my drugs, the car and the medicine. Some of the goals are no longer important. My new bucket list will be much different.

Here are a few of the thirty-two listed out of the planned hundred. I was so high back then I couldn't even find 100 things to shoot for in my life. It saddens me. The fact that many have come to fruition over the last 4 years is gratifying.

Here we go:

1. Do God's will and find peace within myself (trying to do that every day)
2. Work better with Squeaky ( We go through seasons like everyone. Things are WAY better than in 2003)
3. See my daughter Kelly regularly ( I still don't know where she is. She is 12. I have left that to GOD.)
4. Have acceptance ( I am glad I accepted the fact that I am a REAL addict. I try to live life as it is)
6. Try acting and comedy (Those dreams have and are coming true)
7. Teach others ( I share my testimony of overcoming obstacles with the help of friends wherever I can)
8. Publish something I write ( Soul Parole and a Poem about Bill Murray have made that dream come true)
12. Work for myself (that one has been realized in sobriety)
14. Save a life (I have been told the book has inspired people to change their lives for the better, That's cool)
17. Donate to charity more ( The 2012 "Extra Hands of Hope" clothing drive for Urban7 begins soon)
19. Get paid to be funny (I have been paid to do comedy. Performing at fundraisers pays me more)
32. Sign an autograph (Dreams of stardom then and something I am uncomfortable doing each time)

There are plenty of material goals on the list. Those are not as important to me in sobriety, as they were lost in addiction. I always thought things, people and different circumstances would spark my desire to get clean. Nothing could, or would, until I surrendered and realized I couldn't get clean on my own.

As I look at the list of 32, I see that I made it past 40 with God's help. I got sober with the help of others like me. I achieved personal goals because I worked hard, and found faith in my sobriety. I don't have to go it alone EVER now. I achieved over 30 %. That is really cool. I am starting another bucket list now. I have also written out a gratitude list. As long as I have gratitude for what I have the other stuff is just icing on my life cake....

But for the grace of GOD...There go I....



SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is on sale NOW at Amazon.com and Amazon Europe. Please visit tommyconnolly.com by clicking the link at the top of the page. The book will be available on Kindle in September, 2012.

Proceeds benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health programs.

Which Way is Up?

In every chapter that I post about my day to day life I try to keep it real. I have done a fairly good job of that. I have been very candid about my journey to today. I share my triumphs and tragedies, as well as the silly and the insane. In every entry I try to give a piece of myself that readers can identify with.

When addiction is active in a household roles are formed and the family adapts around the addict. The Mom or Dad step in and make decisions on their own to cover for the user. Enablers are confused when the user gets sober because they no longer have a codependent partner. Kids who had to be grown ups all of a sudden are given the chance to be kids again. The whole family dynamic is thrown into flux when sobriety is introduced. Roles need to be redefined and there are growing pains that go with that. The whole family dynamic has shifted on its' axis.

I am an alcoholic-addict in recovery. I have the emotional I.Q. of a young adult. I will be 46 in a few days. I began a relationship with a woman 13 years ago that came with three children. I instantly became a stepfather a word I loathe. I have tried to do my best with the job but quite frankly I don't really know what I'm doing.

When it comes to being a good husband and father I don't know how to do it very well. That is an honest assessment of myself. At least it is my perception. I didn't have a traditional upbringing. I grew up in a single parent home. My mother worked very hard. My father had a family of his own. My sister went her way. I went mine. My grandparents were our neighbors, so they were in the middle but from the teen years on we were pretty much on our own. That's not a knock on anyone. That's just the way it was.

My first 3 marriages were not even marriages. I was so far gone. I was barely human. Now I AM a husband and stepfather. Some days I am a champ and on others am clueless, jealous, thoughtless and selfish. I often wonder if I'm fit for either job at all. I am just learning what I am all about and I seem to make mistake after mistake in the "other people" category. I don't do it intentionally. It just happens.

I have grown in my relationship skills over the last 33 months but I still have gaping holes in my "big boy" abilities and growth. I see my wife with the kids and feel left out sometimes. I understand they are her babies. They will always be held in a different light as they should. When they disrespect me because "I'm not their Dad" it burns me up when she says nothing to them about me being her husband. She just lets it go. I feel she should demand respect for me from them. It is beginning to wear on us, her and me. She says it's me. I say it's her and them. I don't know where it's heading but I pray to God for direction and correction. It's definitely not funky town.

She has expectations. I don't meet them. I don't know how to quite honestly. I know I have a big mouth. I need to learn to keep it closed more often. It doesn't open as much as it used to.  I have said and done many stupid things as a husband and stepfather. I will again. This is new to me. Each day I learn positive and negative things about myself and the world around me. Being sober is truly like being reborn. It is like I have had amnesia and am being reintroduced to my family and friends. I really don't know how I feel or which way is up. The old me says run. Just run. The new me says go ahead you will be waiting there when you get there.

Hey God! I'm the Frog! Why Mess with the Queen?

My world seems to be running at a frenetic pace lately. As a person with bipolar issues it always is at differing degrees inside my mind. Add my addiction issues and how I am working my recovery program and my melon can become a fun house. Not an actual house of fun. More like something that Stephen King would conjure up including the clowns everyone knows I'm SO fond of. At times my mind is like the center lane of the Dan Ryan at about 7:30 am and everyone is running late.

Professionally I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams. Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, God and Myself is still on track to be released through Amazon/Kindle in mid November. I just finished a film called "Family" that is going to rock the festival world. "Chasing Hollywood," My first costarring film is premiering next week at the Naperville film festival. I have two films lined up back to back "The Fruit of Andersen Farm" shooting here in Chicago in October and "Beneath" Shooting in L.A. in November. As an actor I couldn't ask for more.

I have been speaking to civic groups about my story of addiction and depression and the list of appearance requests is growing. I am the Spokesman for this years "Rally Round Recovery 2011" in Will County taking place this weekend. All of my goals seem to be right on track. I feel I am doing the right things for the right reasons. I am grateful to be working with other people newly sober and facing depression and addiction issues. God is using me as a messenger. I am happy to be of service. I was a user, hostage taker, mind bender and scar tissue on this beautiful place we call earth for 28 years too long.

Squeaky whom I have put through the wringer emotionally, financially and everything else that ends with "LY"  is facing surgery Monday. They will be removing half of her right kidney. There is a mass at the top that is unusual. They will biopsy it for disease on the operating table due to its' positioning in her body. I will sleep by her side while she is there and we will get through this season and trial, no matter what the outcome. The doctors have assured us that the long term prognosis is great but there is always concern for this type of major invasive procedure.

I haven't written about it because I have had more questions than answers about the whole thing. Quite a bit of it has left me speechless. I have been supportive and there for her and have tried not to "Fix" things. As a recovering "Fixer" that takes a lot of work to keep a cork in my big fat pie hole. I used to always have an answer or an insecure need to provide one to people even when it wasn't solicited. When she told me she was scared the most brilliant thing I could come up with was that I was scared too. It was an honest answer and I think It's the best bit of husbandry I've done in a while.

I've had to pull over and cry. There have been calls to friends weeping like a fool gibbering that I knew I was powerless and it was in God's hands that I was scared witless. Recovery has taught me how to use new coping skills.I have had to walk out of the room so that I didn't fall apart like a cheap watch. Treating my depression and bipolar symptoms with a professional helps me recognize my own mood swings and emotions and adjust accordingly. There have been times when I have held her and we have fallen apart together. We turn to God in those moments and ask for strength.

The thing that gets me is that I tried to destroy myself a drink or drug at a time, over and over daily for 28 years. On one occasion I tried to do it all in one garage swan song. My faith is strong. I would be a liar if I didn't tell you that I don't get mad at God. I still want things my way. I always will. I probably have spoken about this before. I will undoubtedly again. I don't have to like the way things are in life. I only have to accept them to be reasonably happy and sane. I tried to fight reality for 28 years and it still did it's own thing it's own way. I just got high along the way because it wasn't my way.

The projects, films, speeches, books, jokes and ME things are on hold as of Monday. I am grateful that I can be there for MY WIFE. For the 12 years we have been together I couldn't always say that. I am human and there will be days in the future when I will fall short again. Monday will not be one of those days. Her days of recovery won't be those days. I will be there clear minded and at FULL attention. Sobriety gives me that gift and opportunity. Drunk I would call her mother and have her deal with it. That is the sad truth.

As I grow I ask God WHY less. That is good. I still ask sometimes. I don't know why he does what he does. I will find out someday when I reach the Great Woodstock Festival in the sky. What I can do is the next right things NOW. Sorries don't cut it any more. I will SHOW my wife my love for her through my actions not my intentions. It is my turn to take care of her.

I'm pretty sure that is how friendship and marriage is supposed to go. It's not a 50-50. One is strong when the other is weak. Marriage is a complimenting of each others strengths and weaknesses. One dog has to take the lead of the sled team each day. That dog changes depending on the situation. Both dogs keep the team and sled on track. I ask that you keep her in your prayers. She will be fine. She is Italian and from Berwyn. She'll probably grow a new kidney by the time we get home...

Ring Around The Rosey...

It's been said that I chase my tail in my writings, that I go around in circles. Some say that my writing is  inspiring. Yet others say they are predictable or that I share a simple every day occurrence and wrap it up with a warm and fuzzy ending. To all of my readers I want you to know that my chapters come from the bottom of my heart and are done in one sitting. That is why they are occasionally a little rough around the edges. When it comes to chasing my tail, or going around in circles, that may be true but each circuit is a new trip for me.

I have read in some of my addiction literature that active addicts don't have the capacity to form true bonds with other people. I am not stating that as a fact or expert. I do believe it. I would take it a step farther and add that this would go for any kind of "ism" or "ic." From the workaholic to living with an "ic" of any kind, the condition demands 24 hour attention from the sufferer and unfortunately often at the expense of those around us.

I grew up in a family where my dad was a definite workaholic. My mom worked as a single mother and had my step dad's issues to deal with. As a kid that left little time to squeeze me in. I don't say that with self pity. That was just the way it was. I knew they loved me. They were just wrapped up in their own thing and my troubles, worries, triumphs and ramblings were not at the top of the honey do list.

As I got older and formed relationships with friends and women, I had the capacity to engage but was riddled with insecurity and fear. There were jealousy and abandonment issues. Control and anxiety flourished. Ultimately things revolved around ME and my feelings. I could be the greatest guy in the world as long as you were reacting the way I felt you should be to my actions and needs. I always felt I deserved or didn't deserve more love or attention. Often I felt I deserved nothing so chaos or self destruction was a logical response for everyday interaction in any relationship.

I had all the scenes played out in my head for the people in my life. As long as you were in character and on cue I was thrilled. If you had different reactions than those I expected I pouted, got angry, ran away and was generally miserable. I did not have the capability to take others' feelings fully into consideration or to appreciate what they were going through in the moment. The disease of alcoholism and addiction centers in the mind. My mind was working full time trying to force the world to be what I wanted it to be. Since it only worked out like I wanted it to, occasionally I was miserable and looked for escape! I lived in a parallel universe that was not reality but very real to me. The world isn't filled with trained poodles. We are all human and that burned me up.

At family get togethers I couldn't wait to escape and get drunk the way I wanted to drink. At my kid's parties I watched the clock praying for the parents to come get their kids so I could go get high. I did not appreciate their happy faces as they tore open gifts and played pin the tail on the donkey. I rushed through every moment of my life chasing something that I couldn't catch. I was running from me, myself and I so I certainly couldn't fully relate to you or anybody else. I loved and spent time with the kids and loved ones but my fears of them getting hurt, or hurting me or the world not matching my grand plan left me one click away from completely connected.

I was sure I knew how everybody should lead their lives best and doled out advice like Dr. Phil. But I couldn't even balance a check book or separate the whites and the darks. I would half listen to all the people in my life while internally judging, convicting and passing sentence on them for all of their weaknesses. My mind would not shut off so I did what I had to do to slow it down a few notches. In that state I was neither here nor there.

Sobriety is about living life in the now. Right now. I love it. I have only been living in it for a few years now. It is like I have been Rip Van Winkle for the last 28 years and have just been awakened. I try not to take anything for granted because I used to take EVERYTHING for granted. What you may find inane I find fascinating. I was blind but now I see! Imagine not remembering a decade or more of your life. Can you do it?

If you can, imagine how your children have changed. You have gotten older. The world is different but your mind is what it was when you fell asleep. I may be going around in circles but they are new and fascinating trips each time. I am growing. I was stunted in my emotional development for years. I was a middle aged teenager. Drugs and alcohol stop you dead in your tracks upstairs. I am grateful to have a chance to "see" again. There are many who don't get the chance.

Sometimes I feel recovering addicts and alcoholics are the lucky ones and earthlings are the unlucky. In recovery I have learned to treasure life. I have learned that trusting God is way easier than worry. Worry doesn't get me anything but sick. It has also given me the chance to repair some damage I have done along the way to today. Most folks just carry the baggage. My load gets lighter by the day. I have learned to forgive because whoever I hold a grudge towards isn't at home thinking about me so why should I let them have power over me?

Mostly I have learned that every day is a gift. I can't change the past. PERIOD! I can make an honest attempt to make things right. If I want folks to forgive me I certainly have to return the favor. I also know tomorrow will take care of itself. I can make plans but I can't plan outcomes. Worry is not a God given emotion. Today is where it's at. Each day is exciting. Sometimes they're shite! All of them I feel exactly as they are meant to be.

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.

Ain't life Zany!

I'm just back from the left coast. Man I dig California. There is nothing I can think of that I don't like about the Golden State except the traffic during rush hour. As a Chicagoan even that was just an irritation, not a real frustration. While I was there I sought professional treatment for a phobia I have had for 30 years. I'm not ready to talk about it yet but I am grateful to say that the therapy worked.

When I woke up in my hotel room after my 17 hour odyssey from Chicago I was greeted by an email I have waited and prayed on for years. It was an invitation to perform at the "Rising Star Showcase" at Zanie's Comedy Club on Wells street in the heart of Chicago. That particular Zanie's is the original location and the jewel of the franchise. It is THE comedy club a comic shoots for coming up in the Chicago circuit. It is one of the elite comedy franchise names in the country.

I had been trying for several months to get a spot on the showcase but was coming up short with every email of rejection. Last Sunday, July 24, 2011 Bert Haas confirmed a slot for me in a simple to the point reply. Be at the club at 7:30 August 1, 2011. Clean Material. Bring a Press Kit. That was the gist of it. I was thousands of miles from Squeaky and had no one to share my elation with. That is with the exception of the big guy upstairs.

During the 4 on and off years I went to Columbia College I would walk up Wells Street and stop by the famous club where the greats had performed. I knew Carlin and Brenner, Williams and Martin had stood in the doorway and on the stage just behind the locked doors. I imagined myself doing jokes there. The roar of the crowd deafening. I would slay 'em.

The reality of my life was that I was high or drunk and was on my way to the porn shops that were farther up Wells, beyond the sterile area where the comedy shrine stood. I had never picked up a pen and put it to paper. All my dreams of comedy and acting and simply living life as a responsible human being were in my head. It was all about what I was going to do tomorrow or someday. Not today. Today I was high. I just wanted to be high.

I flipped my way through the pages of the magazines feeding darker addictions that took me out of myself and my racing thoughts. It wasn't the pictures. It was the rush and the naughtiness, the long walk and the anticipation of what awaited me. Addiction is just as much, if not more ritual, than the actual using. It is the whole package, not just the high.

On the way back down to the school I would pass by the club and dream some more unrealistic dreams and hop on the train back to Mokena downing a six pack for the hour ride home. Zanie's always stayed in my mind. It was just in my mind like everything else. Little did I know that the club would come back into my reality when I was working for Harrah's Casino in Joliet.

In 1991, as a member of group sales, it was my job to go to bars and restaurants and set up trips to the casino. My drinking was at an all time high or low depending on perspective. My boss gave me a lead which  was Zanie's on Wells. I met a limo driver named Paul A. He was trying to set up trips from the club to the casino. We met and went to the club. I was mesmerized. My eyes went in and out of focus from awe and a killer hangover. I had made it back, still no jokes and a bigger drunk. My follow up was terrible with Paul and Harrah's and both relationships ended on poor terms.

Tonight I return to Zanies as a performer. At 8pm I will be humbled beyond words. I am sober. I am a new creature. By the grace of God and other alcoholics, addicts and those who suffer from depression I no longer feel alone or that I am a victim or martyr. The beauty I see in women is in my wife. I have put my pen to paper and have written jokes. I have also put my soul into these pages. I hope I have shown others that there is choice. You don't have to use. You do need to ask for help. You can't get sound advice from an unsound mind. When the light hits my face tonight and I stand where the legends have stood I don't care if a single sole laughs. I caught the dream and will remember it.

"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.

My 180 at a 360 Degree Tour!

Anyone who knows me is painfully aware that I am a music nut! I take great joy in sharing the sounds that man creates from native chants to rock classics with anyone who is willing to listen. This has been the case since I was about 4. Sometimes it is easier for me to express how I am feeling through a song than trying to speak the words myself. I usually say exactly the opposite of what I am trying to convey.

My combined album, CD, and MP3 collection easily surpasses 30,000 songs. I am a true audiophile. I can talk for hours on end about the most useless rock facts. I dream of going on Jeopardy and Alex reveals an all music clue board. My bets would be full boat on the daily double every time. Along with hearing great music I enjoy seeing live performances as well. The three artists I have seen most are Elvis Costello, Bob Dylan and U2.

From the list you can see that my big three share a common thread. They are all good musicians, great song writers and complete artists. I love artists who are devoted to their art, regardless of the critical response. Dylan is not a singer. He is a poet who delivers the poetry via a rough, acquired taste voice. His songs are meant to be experienced, not enjoyed for their aesthetic vocal quality. It's in the word cobbling. If you are looking for just sound Josh Groban is he ticket. I am a lyrics guy plain and simple.

U2 is one of my favorite bands of ALL time. They are my modern Beatles. Larry is Ringo, Edge is George, Adam is Paul (bass playing only) and Bono is John. I started listening to them in 1982 when "WAR" hit the airwaves. It was their third album. I told everyone to check them out and that they would be huge. I wish I would have kept my mouth shut.

I first saw them in 1986 on the Amnesty International, "Conspiracy of Hope" Tour with, The Police, Peter Gabriel, Lou Reed, Joan Baez, The Neville Brothers, Robin Williams and Bryan Adams. They were surreal live. The Police were breaking up and U2 was the new guard. I was hammered and hopeful and ate up the show like pablum. Who wouldn't with that line up? They wrapped up the night with Pete Seeger's "I Shall Be Released." I was in musical nirvana.

I would end up seeing them a year later on the Joshua Tree Tour. They were growing. The songs were getting deeper, more spiritual and they oozed with raw charisma. It would be 5 years until I would see them again but I made up for it by seeing them 3 times on the Zoo TV Tour. Once indoors at the Allstate Arena, twice outdoors back to back at the then World Music Theater. Public Enemy opened for them and traffic was so bad they flew the band members in individually by helicopter. As the choppers set down and each of the guys hunkered down under the spinning wind blasting rotors I felt like I was at Woodstock. I was behaving like I was as well. It was 1992.

My next experience live with the boys from Dublin was in 2005 during the "All That You Can't Leave Behind Tour." I took Andrea/Hemingway with me. I had passed my love for U2 onto her and they were common ground for us in an otherwise shifting plate existence. The band was great and she loved the show. I felt like a small crack was formed in our complicated relationship. Squeaky went as well and it was a nice family night out beyond the $300 price tag. That made it a mini-vacation. I was "DRY" but had some herb before the show so was not sober.

Fast forward to the current day U2 and me. They were playing a gig at Soldier Field with tickets upwards of $275 dollars. They had sold out to Big Brother in my book. How much money did they need? I don't know how much they donate and do know that Bono's work with AIDS and hunger in Africa earned him the Nobel Peace Prize but come on! A few days before the show I checked online and some $30 tickets were available. I toyed with the idea of going. The best available were behind the stage.

The morning of the show I checked again and a single ticket was available dead center. Like Charlie ripping open a Wonka Bar looking for a golden ticket I ran for my wallet and entered my info carefully watching that demon clock counting down the time in the corner to complete my transaction. I swear my ability to enter information is cut in half while that doomsday device is determined to prevent me from buying me my seat. I made it. Barely! I printed my ticket and was off to see the boys for my seventh and decidedly last time.

Things were different this time. I went to the show alone and did not drive. I took the train downtown then caught a bus. I didn't buy the forty dollar shirt. I bought the $20 version from the parking lot guy. I didn't realize there was an opening act, Interpol. They are very good, 4 stars in my book. There were 2 trains back to Joliet that night 9:45 and 11:15. I had to drive my wife to Oak Brook at 5:15am the next morning and had a full day engagement. The show started at 7pm promptly. Interpol played the usual 40 minutes. I assumed that U2 would hit the stage about 8:00.

I love people watching. It is a hobby I adore and one that adds to my acting skills...I hope. The booze was flying. Old familiar smells wafted by. I was sober. You see that was part of my quest. I had never seen the band sober. I wanted my fascination with the band to come 360 with them. Just like the name of the current tour. They approached the stage to the booming sounds of Bowie's "Space Oddity," one of my all time favorite songs. It was like God knew I was looking for closure. It was also 8:40pm.

They opened with a handful of songs from "Achtung Baby." They had aged as I had. Bono was less flamboyant. Their hair was white or salt and pepper like mine. They were just men, human like me. They're just guys who have really cool jobs. The bubble had burst. The music was still great but the hypnotic chemical fascination gone. I realized it was the music that had drawn me to the band and I do recommend seeing them once if you have the chance. I had seen them all those times so I could rationalize getting hammered.

God sent me a final message. It was coming up on 9:30. The band had been playing for 45 minutes and Bono started talking about his wife Ali who had been with him through thick and thin and was there that night. He then introduced "Out of Control," their first minor hit in America. He said that she stayed with him even when things were out of control. I listened to the song, picked up my things and headed for the train. I called Squeaky on the way home. She was in bed. She had stuck by me when I was out of control and needed me in the morning. 45 minutes sober was quite enough for this ol' boy. I caught a cab to Lasalle street and just made my train.

On the way home I felt blessed to have gone to see U2 one more time. I had $48 dollars left in my pocket from the hundred I bought. In my wild days I would have brought home dust and IOU's. I put the song "40" on my MP3 player, U2's reference to Psalms 40 and my life verse. I fell asleep, stirring as we rolled up to Mokena, my boyhood home. I made it home and into bed by midnight. I kissed my wife and gave thanks to a truly merciful God. I reviewed my day then was out like a light.

I was as fresh as a daisy taking Miss Squeaky to Oak Brook the following morning. There was no hangover, regrets or tired eyes; only thankfulness.

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.

My Christmas Gift 2010

In a previous chapter I mentioned that I spent Christmas in 1998 alone, drunk, lost and covered in cock roaches, wishing God would end my life. Boy how times have changed! It is 10:30 pm here in Plainfield. I am sitting at my coffee table with my back just 20 feet from the attached garage where I tried to force his hand at my exit and he chose to let me live.

Fabian, my black Lab, and Grace, my Pekingese, are laying by my wife, who is sawing logs on the couch across from me. My son Scotty, or Bro as I call him, is in bed or more likely killing zombies on Xbox. Cooter, my yellow Lab, is laying near the bedroom of my eldest daughter, Ange and keeping watch over that part of the house. Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse.

I have so much to be thankful for on this Christmas. This is the 12th Christmas with my pre-made family. 2010 has been rough with the death of my Dad, putting down my Pug Ruby, having a cancer scare, losing my job and trying to get through all of that sober. Those life challenges are what we all face and for an addict with depression issues, it feels great that I have friends who help me deal with things sober minded. I have finally realized I can do very little alone.

As I write I am comfortable being me right now. It isn't like that every day. The face that stares back at me sometimes bugs me. But I can look myself in the eye. I can look at others in the eye. When I was using I would look at me and others then quickly redirect my gaze. The amazing thing is that the better I get along with me, the better I get along with the world around me.

Even when I was using I got flashes of peace, especially on Christmas Eve. Did you ever notice how quiet it gets outside around midnight? As a kid I would look at the nativity scene and be fascinated and uplifted at the story of Jesus' birth. If you haven't experienced it open a door and listen to the sounds of silence. It seems to me that for a few moments the noise and commotion of the world gets muted. I can feel a tinge of "Peace on Earth." I can feel the good of the universe edging out the bad in that rare and precious moment.

I am so grateful that in 1998 God said no to my pleas. I am so grateful that God said not yet in 2004. I am so very humbled at the friends I have found in you and the many people I have met on the set or on the stage. It feels comfortable and I almost feel normal. Normal isn't a word thrown in my direction very often.

I don't know what stands in the road of my life between now and next Christmas, or between tonight and tomorrow, for that matter. I do know I can face life sober. It feels good to feel! It feels amazing to have emotions instead of living emotionally. I have learned from my ghosts of Christmas and May Day's past that God does answer our prayers. It isn't always when we demand the answer. It is in his time.

I have also learned that sometimes, when I ask for what I want, God says NO! I have also been blessed with a God who gives me everything and more than I really need. MERRY CHRISTMAS to you all. I am glad I have, God, you, family, friends, sobriety and HOPE in my life tonight. Happy Birthday Jesus and I hope some of you join me outside in a short while to hear the sounds of silence ringing in your ear. Peace! God it's Good to be alive.

Hey Pop's I'm in a TV Series with Jennifer Beals and so are You!

My father's ashes were interned at Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery on October 8, 2010. It was a beautifully patriotic ceremony that included a bagpiper playing "Amazing Grace" and a 21 gun salute. He was listed as "ashes divide" so I can return part of them to the Ring of Kerry in Ireland. I was asked to tell a brief story about my dad during the service and I completely lost it. I had been so stoic and swallowed all my feelings instead of booze and they all came flying back out in that moment. I could not stop the tears as I stumbled along the pavilion picking up the spent shells from the tribute.

I was grateful I was sober for the last two years of his life. We shared many deep conversations about death and God and I even gave him communion. If not the only time he took it, it was one of very few. His passing changed something in me permanently and profoundly. I had many dreams and aspirations growing up but didn't achieve very many because addiction is all about getting high today and taking care of life tomorrow. The next high becomes another tomorrow and the dreams never come. I would live in delusions and never attempt anything. High is a full time job.

I had done stand up comedy with some success on and off since I was 40. I decided I was going to get back to the stage and really make a go of becoming a professional comic. My sister Christine is an actress, and model and soon to be Chaplain. She encouraged me for a long time to submit my photos and try commercial print and acting. I always let my low self esteem, hatred for my physical appearance and fear of rejection prevent me from giving it a shot. These traits are shared by addicts. On the outside though we look like we have big egos and are fearless. Never let 'em see you sweat.

I decided I was going to take the chance. Life is short. No one lays on their death bed and says "I wish I had another drink" or "I wish I had another hundred bucks." Christine had taken some pictures of me and my youngest daughter the year before and gave me some contacts in the business to send my head shots to. On that Sunday night, October 10, 2010, I got a call from Darlene Hunt from Extraordinary Casting here in the city.

Darlene wanted me to report to the Cook County Courthouse early the next day. It was closed for Columbus day and the shoot was utilizing the courtrooms. I had a contact name for when I checked in and about 10 changes of clothes. I was told to bring 3. Overcompensation, another obsession! I checked in and was cast as an attorney. Wardrobe looked through the menagerie of pants, shirts and coats I dragged along and I was set.

The show was tentatively called "Ride Along." It would later be renamed "The Chicago Code". It stars Jennifer Beals of "Flashdance/L-Word" fame, Jason Clarke from "The Brotherhood," Delroy Lindo from too many things to list and Matt Lauria from "Friday Night Lights." I paid careful attention to the dynamic group of other actors in the room and asked lots of questions. I made some fast friends and learned what to do and not to do on a movie set.

I was placed in the scene and had an on-camera role with no lines but an important role in the story. We rehearsed the scene a few times and then the "First Team" actors were brought in.  It was surreal. I was sitting 10 feet from Jennifer Beals, strikingly beautiful and naturally graceful. Jason Clarke was cool and very Irish. I was surprisingly comfortable and fell in love with the film business instantly.

In a twisted irony I reflected back on when I had seen the movie Flashdance in the theater. I had taken LSD late that afternoon in anticipation of going to see Led Zeppelin "The Song Remains the Same" at the midnight movie in Orland. My buddies dropped me off at home to shower and were to pick me up later for the film. While I was getting ready another buddy called to remind me that I had set up a double date for that night to see "Flashdance" in Park Forest and that I couldn't let him down.

I cancelled the midnight movie date and headed to Park Forest for my evening as a wing man, tripping all the way. It was April of 1983. I was already a drunk at 17 and messing with any mind altering drug I could get my hands on. I made it through the film fairly normal but almost jumped out of my skin during the strobe scene when the girl rolls along the wall. I got pulled over by the police that night for a burnt out taillight and felt so cool that I didn't get a ticket while I was flying! It was twisted thinking then and sickening to me as I sat next to Ms. Beals.

I had reached out and grabbed hold of one of my dreams. I was in a scene with Jennifer Beals and it was one of the most amazing days of my life. But it was bittersweet knowing that I had been under the influence when I first laid eyes on her. Part of recovery is facing the mistakes of your past and cleaning up the baggage it piles on the addict.

 I had the prayer card from my father's memorial service in my pocket. I thought to myself "Pops, look at me, I'm in a TV series and so are you." The remorse of my past slipped away as I thought of the sober days with my dad at the end of his life. I was sober on that set, that day. Yesterday is gone! I am sober today and that's all that matters! We can't change our yesterdays but our tomorrows bring endless possibilities. My love for films and acting was set and it was just the beginning of many exciting days to come.