IRISHMAN FOR HIRE

“There’s not a day goes by I don’t feel regret. Not because I’m in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can’t. That kid’s long gone and this old man is all that’s left. I got to live with that…” said Red in Shawshank Redemption. Powerful words! I feel for Red every time I watch that scene, but that movie also conjures up questions about my own life.

A few years ago, some friends and I were sitting around, drinking a couple of beers and telling war stories of our youth. We covered all of our triumphs, our glory days, our conquests and even some of our bigger mistakes. At one point in time someone asked me, “If you had a chance to go back in time and change one thing in your life, would you do it?”

“Yes,” I said. “I would.”

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A couple of weeks ago, I closed the final page on the sixth book of my life. I know people call each significant segment of our lives a chapter but I believe a “year in the life” equates to a chapter in our personal history. Three hundred sixty-five days covers a lot of love, drama, highs, lows, laughs and memorable moments to fill out one whole chapter. Significant periods of time lumped together is the equivalent of a good book.

My latest book encompassed a period of fourteen years; almost to the day! The impact of the past fourteen years won’t truly be known for years to come but I would be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to reflect upon the time I spent in Bean Town. I don’t believe in goodbyes because we will see each other again, but I do want to take a moment to pay tribute to the people I met and the accomplishments I have attained over the past fourteen years.

I married my wife in Chapter One and to be completely honest, Stephanie is more amazing today than she was fourteen years ago. And every day I know her, I love her more than the day before. I am blessed to call her my wife. And although I don’t know how many more books our life will encompass, I eagerly look forward to many more amazing stories, laughs and blessings over the next fifty (or more) years.

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Stephanie and I were sitting on the couch watching Parenthood on TiVo last week and in one of the scenes, the entire family had gotten together to spend a routine evening together. While the parents were in the kitchen washing the dishes, cleaning up and talking about a new boyfriend who had been invited to join them, Stephanie turned to me and said, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have regular family dinners like that?”

“We do, Stephanie,” I replied.

“No, Doug,” she said forlornly. “You know what I mean.”

“I do and we have them,” I said as the commercial break ended and the show started again.

Ever since Stephanie’s mother passed away, some of our family members have dispersed like dandelions in the wind. Kathy was the glue that kept those traditions alive and made sure routine dinners as well as holiday celebrations were the foundation for a cohesive family unit. Since her passing, life has scattered many of the family members to the four corners of the universe for one reason or another.

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In 2008, I decided that at the end of the awards season (The Golden Globes, The Oscars, The Grammy’s, etc.), I am going to give out a single award here at Irishman For Hire called the Blarney Stone Award. The Blarney Stone is a block of bluestone atop the Blarney Castle in Ireland and it is widely believed that anyone who kisses the Blarney Stone (different link) will be endowed with the “gift of gab (great eloquence or skill at flattery).”

The criteria for the Blarney Stone award is simple, “Thank those who have had an impact on my life before it’s too late to express the gratitude that I have for them.” I cannot guarantee that the recipient will become eloquent or a great speaker but the fact of the matter is that it was the eloquence of their actions that has spoken volumes to me in my life. We always intend to tell those important people in our lives what they have meant to us but more often than not, we never get the chance to say to our friends and family members what we truly feel in our hearts until it is too late.

The inaugural Blarney Stone Award was given to my Aunt Renate and last year, the award went to my Mother-in-law.

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Do you hear what I hear? Do you hear roars of jubilation, celebrations, singing and cheering?! Do you hear the frustration, the heartbreak, the disappointment and the angry outbursts?! Have you heard it lately? Well if you have, you are not alone; ‘Tis the season for the fantasy football playoffs! The time of the year that is filled with the “thrill of victory and the agony of defeat!”

Depending on the rules of the fantasy football league, the playoffs either started last Sunday or they kick off this weekend. It is the point in the season when an entire year of research, preparation and super fandom come down to one week, one match up and ultimately, one do or die situation. Win the game and continue towards a championship! Lose the game and end another year of one’s life dedicated to building the perfect fantasy football franchise.

I have been a New York Giants fan all of my life. I joined my first fantasy football league in 1987 and from that first season, I have been hooked on this extremely addictive game. But it wasn’t until the mid 1990s that fantasy football really started to grab the enthusiasm of the American public. And when ESPN created an entire gaming division around fantasy sports, fantasy football exploded onto the scene as the premier attraction for men, women and children of all ages!

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A couple of months ago, I caught up with a friend of mine from my old college radio days. We talked about a lot of things but mostly, we reminisced about our days on air at the old college station. And as always, our conversation eventually drifted to comparisons of the musical styles of the past thirty or forty years. His main point was that modern music is missing the storytellers, the great musicians who can write a lyric that tells a story and combine it with a quality piece of music that leaves the listener yearning for more. And although I didn’t fully agree with his assumptions and I could point to some bona fide exceptions, I realized that they were the exceptions to the rule and not the rule itself.

Last Tuesday, P.J. Pacifico released his second record Always & Everywhere and within moments of listening to the album on my IPod, I knew that I was listening to the next great storyteller. With a soulful and inviting vocal range, P.J. has created an album full of great stories and phenomenal melodies that are based on the past four years of his life as he has traveled around the country in support of his first CD. And the more I listened to his songs, the more mesmerized I became.

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“Are you okay?” Stephanie asked as we sat around one night last month watching television.

“I’m fine, Steph. Really, I am. I think I’m just tired,” I said as I tried to avoid the conversation.

“No, it’s not, Sweetie. Something’s bothering you, I can feel it,” she said as she grabbed the remote and paused the TiVo. She could tell that something was on my mind and I knew she wasn’t going to let the conversation drop until we talked about it.

“I just have one of those feelings, Steph, and I can’t put my finger on what it is.”

“Really?” Stephanie asked concerned. Stephanie knew that at random times in my life I would get hit with this inexplicable feeling that normally led to bad news or to something bad happening. So my proclamation that ‘I had a feeling that I couldn’t explain’ was not something that Stephanie ever took lightly.

“It’s not one of those feelings, Stephanie, honest. It’s different this time,” and it was. This was the first time in my life that the weird pit in my stomach wasn’t my usual feeling of impending doom. It was atypical and that made it even more concerning to me.

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Last weekend, we spent a leisurely Sunday afternoon at a friend’s house. They had invited a group of us over so the kids could play. It was a nice diversion on a cold and rainy day to be able to sit, relax and catch up with one another.

At one point in the afternoon, I was having a conversation with one of my friends and as I was trying to make a point, Stephanie loudly proclaimed to everybody in the room, “Come on, you know Doug; he has to make a big deal about it so he can turn it into a great big story!”

And with her declaration; the room burst into laughter. I tried to make a case for the fact that I was standing firm on the grounds of principle but no one accepted my explanation. They acknowledged Stephanie’s proclamation as a statement of fact and that was the end of the conversation. The stone had been cast; “Doug has to make a big deal about things so he can turn it into a great big story!” Stephanie had to know where this was going when she made that statement and if she didn’t, shame on her!

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It was a brisk and snowy winter’s eve. The family was sitting in the living room watching television when from the far reaches of the Universe they heard a sound that they couldn’t quite decipher. It kept getting louder and every few moments, the noise seemed to get closer to their home. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” The husband asked as he got up from his chair. The woman, her husband, and the kids curiously wandered to the front door to see who was there. And just outside, they were greeted by a choir of carolers spreading Christmas cheer throughout the neighborhood.

A few years ago, I had a nagging idea that was tugging at the back of my brain. I kept having a fuzzy memory from my childhood that was trying to surface from my subconscious and make itself known. As hard as I tried to shake the idea, it just wouldn’t go away.

When I was a child, my mother, brothers, and I would meet other families in the center of our town to go Christmas Caroling. We lived in the small town of Roxbury, CT and it seemed like a rite of passage to meet in the center of town every year and give the one gift at the holidays that couldn’t be exchanged, returned, or considered the wrong item. All you needed was a heart filled with the spirit of the season and the willingness to spread cheer and joy among your neighbors, friends, and strangers.

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Last month, Stephanie and I took the kids to North Carolina for a long weekend. After a long summer, we were all on the mend emotionally and physically, so it was critical for us to take the children away for a weekend of fun and frivolity. So Stephanie and I decided that our anniversary gift to each other was a family trip back to Raleigh, North Carolina to have dinner once again at the Melting Pot restaurant.

As we planned our trip, the hotel we wanted to stay at was close to full and had very few non-smoking rooms left. As we perused other hotels in the area, I went back to the original hotel and realized that for an extra four dollars per person, per day that we could upgrade our reservations to the executive level. The cost was irrelevant at the time because it was still a better deal than all of the other hotels we had been considering.

When we arrived at our hotel on Columbus Day weekend, we realized that there was a conference being held in our hotel. As it turns out, the conference was the reason we had to elevate our reservations to the executive level and I am glad that Stephanie and I chose this option.

Our floor had an executive lounge that came with many amenities that ultimately lowered the cost of our stay and gave us another place to unwind besides our hotel room. The executive lounge hosted a free breakfast each morning, free snacks and soft drinks all day long and an evening “cocktail reception.” For me, the large screen television and the couch were a great benefit. After the children went to bed, I was able to leave the room and watch television elsewhere so I didn’t keep the kids up all night. And, as luck would have it, I was in the executive lounge when I inevitably met the “Mississippi Girls.”

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