Friends,

Alright — here we go. And yes, I’m smiling as I write this.

I’m running for office again — for my home. For New York State Assembly District 145, which stretches from Grand Island through North Tonawanda and Wheatfield, up to Niagara Falls, and north to Lewiston and Youngstown.

Some of you know me well. Some of you know someone who knows me. And some of you have watched over the years as I’ve taken on powerful politicians and insiders on both sides of the aisle — from Andrew Cuomo to Donald Trump — and come out the other side with my sense of humor mostly intact. This isn’t a talking point. It’s real life. And you’ve seen it firsthand.

They tried to crush me more than once.

But I’m still here.

Still standing.

Still optimistic.

So why run again?

Because I’ve seen what good government actually looks like. I’ve seen what happens when leaders show up, do the work, and refuse to accept excuses: better health care, more opportunity for families, and more freedom.

We deserve more than survival. We deserve progress. And I’m not done fighting for it. Not just incremental change—we can do big things!

At a time of pessimism and pain, I want to show something that feels rare right now: public service can still be joyful. It can still be hopeful. It can still come from a belief in what’s possible — not just an endless catalog of what’s broken.

Some of you remember my runs for Congress — when we came closer than anyone thought possible in races that weren’t supposed to be competitive at all. Those campaigns took on enormous money and deeply entrenched power. Both opponents ultimately resigned. One went to prison and was later pardoned by Donald Trump. And twice, we nearly won.

More importantly, twice we proved something lasting: people will cross party lines, people will show up, people will fight — if you believe in them and give them a message worth fighting for.

Given that history, you might think I’d choose a different race — something national, or a political job handed down from above.

No thanks. I’ve chosen a race that means far more to me. It’s another tough one — but it’s worth fighting for. Right here, in my own backyard — against a system that’s accepted mediocre leadership and endless excuses for far too long.

Look around.

Look at Niagara Falls.

Look at the people leaving.

Look at your own family’s pocketbook.

This isn’t right.

At a time when Washington feels loud, performative, and disconnected from real life, I’ve come to believe something simple: the clearest way to lead right now is to fight for the state and the communities you actually live in. To prove that change doesn’t have to wait for permission from the capital. That it can still happen locally — close to home, close to the people.

I love all of Western New York — truly — from the edge of the Finger Lakes to the villages of the Southern Tier. To those who have supported me in the past, I’m forever grateful. But this race is about home.

I love Grand Island, where I served as Supervisor and where I’m proud of what we accomplished together — protecting thousands of acres, building the West River Trail, creating the Welcome Center, and transforming a long-troubled industrial site into a thriving hotel. From Beaver Island to Buckhorn, Grand Island isn’t just where I live — it’s part of who I am.

I love North Tonawanda and Wheatfield — where I grew up, where much of my family still lives, and where many of my ancestors first came to America to work at the Buffalo Bolt and Wurlitzer factories. I walked those streets every day — down Webster, along the canal. That place shaped me, and I carry it with me everywhere.

I love Lewiston and Youngstown, and the broader Niagara Frontier — the gorge, the river, the old French stone castle at Fort Niagara. Across the great inland sea, the lights of Toronto glow on the horizon, reminding us how connected this place is to the wider world. If this were anywhere else on Earth, people would cross oceans to see it. In fact, they do.

And I love Niagara Falls — its story, its opportunity, and its people — sincerely, and with all my heart. This is home to one of the greatest natural wonders on Earth, a pilgrimage site for millions — yet far too often it’s treated like an afterthought. That contradiction isn’t inevitable. It’s a choice. And leadership is about choosing better.

This was once a land of daredevils and dreamers — not bureaucrats and backroom toadies.

This is where Nikola Tesla helped power the modern world.

Where Charles Dickens stood at the Falls and ran out of words.

Where Ely S. Parker and Frederick Douglass imagined a more just nation.

I don’t claim to stand among those greats — just someone shaped by this place, grateful for it, and willing to step back into the current.

Now the reality: it’s still a tough race. But it’s a hopeful one. The powers that be will resist. They always do. That’s okay. I’ll keep smiling — and moving forward.

And if you believe this region deserves leadership equal to its history — leadership that doesn’t bury its head in the sand when things get hard, that doesn’t go along to get along when something is wrong — I’m asking you to join me.

I promise no quick fixes. But I do promise real change.

If you believe we can change this region for the better, we can. But we cannot do it by doing what’s always been done — by drifting with the current and calling it leadership.

If you know me, you know what I can do.

I don’t look away when the water speeds up.

I don’t pretend the current isn’t real when it’s dragging us toward the edge.

I show up. I tell the truth. And I fight for my people — ready for the risk, built to survive it.

Still smiling. Together.

Now please read my ideas.

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Let’s build something worthy of this place.

Let’s go!