The more I trust, the harder it becomes...

"I'm breaking inside
My head's above the water but I just can't fight the tide
Till the pressure subsides"
Threshold-"Pressure"

Can't hide it anymore. I can sit here and pretend everything is OK because no one likes to hear negativity, but that is dishonest.

All truth, all the time.

Well, dishonesty does not live here. Honesty will always be on display when I write, because that is the way I like it. I have no room for dishonesty in my life. That is why you must accept me, warts and all, because that is who I am. Rest assured I will give you that same courtesy.


I do my best to come into work everyday with a positive outlook and a plan on how to tackle all of the tasks before me.


Yet, by the end of the day, I leave work with a "thousand yard stare" on my face like a soldier who has seen too much senseless slaughter. I lose all ability to care or to feel.


Yes, my personal life is wonderful. My family is wonderful. My musical career is wonderful. I am growing closer to God, and that is wonderful. I am a blessed man and I cannot stop saying that. Yet, that doesn't mean that I have to smile every single second of the day. When weight keeps piling up on your shoulders, unless you are Atlas, chances are your knees are going to buckle every now and then.


Oddly enough, this always seems to start happening to me when I make a concerted effort to try and put God first in my life.


Challenges arise, and I do my best to handle them with grace and poise, whilst I keep reminding myself that He won't give me anything that I can't handle. The cross gets heavier and heavier, but I don't have Simon the Cyrenian to help me carry it. After a while, it wears on you. Soon, you want to just give up and put the cross down. It's much easier to walk without that heavy piece of wood to carry on your shoulders.

Even when things suck, I have to remember this

So many good things are happening in my church life now that I am doing my best to put God first. My daughter Lily is about to have her first Holy Communion. I'm getting more involved by volunteering to be a catechist for religious education. I'm starting to feel more at home at a parish I never thought I would feel comfortable at. This is all a wonderful thing and I praise God for it and thank Him for it. I've finally found my niche. (You can read more about it in a previous entry that can be found on this blog)


I keep telling myself that this is going to make things easier to manage and easier to shrug off, and roll with the punches. If anything, it has made the punches hurt a little worse. All of this seems to counter what our Lord said in St. Matthew's gospel: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”


I am weary and I do labor, and I come to Him for rest in the spirit. Yet, the challenges at my labor become harder and harder instead of lighter and lighter. Is our Lord speaking in oxymoronic terms?
That verse from Matthew has always been a challenge for me. The more I trust in Him it seems the more gets thrown at me. The better things become in my spiritual life, the worse things become in my professional life. Why is that?


I believe I know why. I have a theory that when you try to do your best to put God first in your life, the evil one does his best to try and make you fail at it. He throws everything at you to make you want to give up and despair. He wants you in misery. He wants you to fail. He's got his gun loaded and he has you in his sights. The evil one is targeting your soul and your happiness.


As I write this, I stare over at the crucifix that is sitting on my desk, and I want to say "Lord, you know I love you. Why does this keep happening? Why do things continue to get harder and harder in my professional life? I'm trying my best to serve you now and be a good disciple." Then, I tell myself "I'm telling this to a guy hanging from a cross. He dealt with much more than I ever will". I know He hears all of my complaints and all of my challenges. He probably facepalms a lot as well! Yet, that doesn't mean that it becomes any easier to deal with.


I think I know what I am supposed to do and that is continue to persevere. Maybe I can try to dig into being spiritually stronger at work. I just hope it doesn't make things even more difficult, because as I said earlier, the more I try to be more spiritually active and involved, the more challenging it becomes.


One thing I do know is, that service and becoming closer to God is bringing me an immense sense of accomplishment and joy. 

Movie Review: Downfall (Der Untergang)

"Call me stupid, call me mad
Question my faith, watch me laugh
Mock the courage of one
The many speak, your time will come
Burn me, scorn me, meet me and my downfall
Break my will but leave me and my downfall"
DeeExpus-"Me and My Downfall"


"All these horrors I've heard of during the Nurnberg process, these six million Jews, other thinking people or people of another race, who perished. That shocked me deeply. But I hadn't made the connection with my past. I assured myself with the thought of not being personally guilty. And that I didn't know anything about the enormous scale of it. But one day I walked by a memorial plate of Sophie Scholl in the Franz-Joseph-Strasse. I saw that she was about my age and she was executed in the same year I came to Hitler. And at that moment I actually realised that a young age isn't an excuse. And that it might have been possible to get to know things."


-Traudl Junge, personal secretary to Adolf Hitler, 1942 to 1945, in a statement made after the movie Downfall (Der Untergang) is concluded.

I've never written a movie review before, and I am not enough of an expert to know whether I am a good enough judge of motion pictures to do so. But first:


Spoiler alert: Hitler dies, the Nazis surrender to the Allies.


Oh come on, you took history in high school, right? This should all be common knowledge to you.


So, watch the movie anyway.


Downfall ( German title: Der Untergang) was released in 2004 and is a German/Italian/Austrian co-production, directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel and produced and written by Bernd Eichinger. The film recieved excellent reviews at the time of it's release and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. It also spawned a viral video phenomenon (go to YouTube and type in "Hitler complains about XBox Live" for a few laughs). In fact, the viral videos made me want to watch this movie, because it looked like such a well done film. Also, one of my favorite parts of 20th century history to study is the rise and fall of the Third Reich, because you wonder how one man can basically flim-flam his way into power and achieve so much of it, and brainwash a country and its people.


The movie is based off of the books Inside Hitler's Bunker: The Last Days of the Third Reich (1945), by historian Joachim Fest; Until the Final Hour: Hitler's Last Secretary (1947), the memoirs of Traudl Junge, one of Hitler's secretaries (co-written with Melissa Müller); Inside the Third Reich (first published in German in 1969), the memoirs of Albert Speer, one of the highest-ranking Nazi officials to survive both the war and the Nuremberg trials; Hitler's Last Days: An Eye–Witness Account (first English translation 1973), by Gerhard Boldt; Das Notlazarett unter der Reichskanzlei: Ein Arzt erlebt Hitlers Ende in Berlin by Doctor Ernst-Günther Schenck; and Soldat: Reflections of a German Soldier, 1936–1949 (1992), Siegfried Knappe's memoir. This was another factor that drew me in to watching this film. Historians like myself want to know what was going on inside the mind of the mad Fuhrer and inside the Fuhrerbunker during those final days of his iron-fisted rule and the Battle of Berlin. You also wonder what was going on in the heads of the people that were closest to Hitler; like his closest staff, his generals, and his girlfriend Eva Braun.

Bruno Ganz as Adolf Hitler

Alexandra Maria Lara as Traudl Junge.

The role of Traudl Junge is played by Alexandra Maria Lara, whom I first became familiar with in the 2013 movie Rush, where she played the role of Marlene Lauda, wife of F1 legend Niki Lauda. Lara puts on a subtle, yet emotional performance as the young secretary who does her level best to stay loyal to her employer, but also sees the pain and turmoil going on in those closest to her and her fellow staff members. One minute she will be close to tears when she thinks about the chaos around her, but the next she will put on a happy face for her boss and others around her. I was already a fan of her work due to her role in Rush, so I am interested in seeing more movies starring Lara.


Interesting fact: Lara is not the only cast member of Rush who played in a role in a film about Nazi Germany. Daniel Bruhl, who played Niki Lauda in Rush, was also in the film Inglorious Basterds.


Adolf Hitler is played by Swiss actor Bruno Ganz, who painstakingly prepared for his role for over four months, and also studied in depth the only surviving recording of Hitler in private conversation so he could properly perform Hitler's Austrian-German dialect. The preparation and hard work paid off, as Ganz delivers a breathtaking performance. Ganz succeeds at making even the coldest, most evil man the world had ever seen into a man that you almost can feel sorry for...ALMOST! We are shown moments of compassion and warmth that are not expected from a man like Adolf Hitler. He seems to truly care for Ms. Junge as an employee and a person, loves his dog, and enjoys the company of children. But then, like any masterful actor playing the role of villian, he takes all of his redeeming qualities away and shoves them down your throat in a rage. From compassion to evil in a short measure, from sadness to violent anger, from praising bravery to wishing death on his generals and the country he claimed to love. Ganz captures the hair trigger mood swings that Adolf Hitler was known for with chilling accuracy and depth. I have to say it is one of the finest performances I have ever seen on film.


Some film critics felt that Bruno Ganz made Adolf Hitler seem too "human" and almost "likeable". Poppycock. If Ganz would have portrayed Hitler as a stiff, robotic, one-dimensional villain, it would have been farcical, comic, and just plain stupid. The best portrayals of villains are the ones that ALMOST convince you that they are in the right, but then prove without a shadow of a doubt that they are clearly in the wrong and continue to be unrepentant even at the bitter end. The writers of the film and Bruno Ganz leave the viewer no doubts that Hitler is clearly a villain of the most disreputable nature who is losing his mind as his "empire" crumbles around him. This movie does not play hard and loose with the facts and does not mince words. Hitler's two-faced megalomania is clearly on display for all of us to see.


The most chilling performance of the film has to belong to Ulrich Matthes, who portrays Joseph Goebbels, the Reich Propaganda Minister. In the film, it seems that Goebbels was the tail wagging Hitler's dog in the final days in the bunker. Never wavering and continuing to propagandize his leader to the bitter end, Matthes gives us a dark reminder of just how blindly loyal he, many members of the Nazi party, and the nation of Germany was. He was cold, ruthless, and unyielding. When asked about whether he felt sympathy for the German people, he bluntly states "I feel no sympathy. I repeat, I FEEL NO SYMPATHY!! The German people chose their fate. That may surprise some people. Don't fool yourself. We didn't force the German people. They gave us a mandate, and now their little throats are being cut!" Ooooh...ouch. I bet when an autopsy was performed on his body after the war, I think one organ they did not have to analyze was a heart, because I don't think he had one.


Corinna Harfouch, who portrayed Magda Goebbels, his wife, gives us a picture of loyalty that is almost even more shocking. In one scene, Albert Speer (played by Heino Ferch), sees Magda lying in bed, crying. During the conversation, Magda chillingly says "My children cannot grow up in a world without National Socialism" and talks about how she also cannot live. Her loyalty is even scarier than her husbands. How did the German people allow themselves to be hypnotized to the point of a thousand-yard stare by this "cause", this "Fuhrer"? How?

The staff enjoys a party in the Fuhrerbunker

In a film like this, which has so many villains, you try to find someone with redeeming qualities who you can kind of root for, and in my case, it was Ernst-Günther Schenck (portrayed by Christian Berkel), a doctor whom was working for the SS in Berlin. When orders were given to evacuate Berlin, he stayed behind and brought needed medical supplies to wounded soldiers and civilians, and also assisted in operations despite not having surgical training. His courage and his deeds when all of his superiors turned tail and ran is truly admirable. Yes, even in Nazi Germany, there were good men.


Yet, sadly, it is hard to find "good guys" in this film. The bulk of the main characters were all working for or affiliated with the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei aka NSDAP aka Nazi Party, a regime responsible for the deaths of 50 million people. Watching the film, there were parts where I wanted to feel badly for the people of Germany or the soldiers who fought for the German army who were dying. I wanted to feel bad for the generals who were taking instructions from a madman who had zero grip on reality and was ordering troop movements for armies that didn't exist! I did find myself feeling sympathetic towards Traudl Junge, because she was just a young girl who wanted a job who was brainwashed into the Hitler Cult of Personality like every other person in Germany. I also felt somewhat bad for Eva Braun (played by Juliane Köhler), being she was just a young, naive woman who seemed to care more about having a good time and was oblivious to what went on around her. While she loved Hitler, and seemed to blindly obey his every wish, there are moments where she wishes things we different. Yet, her childish enthusiasm and ignorance make her very difficult to like.


There really is no hero in this story. This isn't about a heroic last stand of a virtueous nation fighting for their freedom. This is the just desserts for the big bully who tried to push around Europe and the world, but could not take it when Europe and the rest of the world pushed back. Instead of repenting for his wrongs against the world, the bully takes his own life rather than face justice or his own come-uppance.

In a famous scene due to a YouTube parody, Adolf Hitler berates his generals.

I wish I could go into every single detail: the shock and horror of a parent seeing their young child saying that they will fight to the last man because Hitler ordered it. The infighting and tension between the generals as they argue about whether orders should be followed or should they think for themselves. The sadness and emotion any parent with a heart would feel watching children being put to death by their own mother out of loyalty for a lost and terrible cause. If I went into all the details of the film, it would take away from the experience of watching it.


All in all, Downfall is a brilliant, brilliant film that any history buff or fan of good filmmaking should see. Incredible acting, excellent detail, and great historical accuracy. Like Schindler's List, I consider this a MUST WATCH if you want to learn more about the terrible history of Nazi Germany and Adolf Hitler. Remember, those who fail to learn about history are condemned to repeat it.


4.5 out of 5

Metal and Catholicism...the struggle is real

"No stop signs, speed limit
Nobody's gonna slow me down
Like a wheel, gonna spin it
Nobody's gonna mess me around
Hey Satan, paid my dues
Playing in a rocking band
Hey mama, look at me
I'm on my way to the promised land, whoo!"


AC/DC-"Highway to Hell"


I declared my belief in Christ in mid-2006.


I started going to church again later that year and nearly became a Sunday School teacher in the Lutheran church.


After months and months of reading, research, and prayer, I entered the Catholic Church in 2007/08. Now, I am declaring my intentions to be a catechist for Religious Education classes at my parish. I feel the Lord is calling me.

Like Stryper, I am a soldier under God's command...

All the while, I had continued to be the same rock and roll personality I had always been. Yet, over the years, the image has softened. I have a family, a wife and a daughter who need me. I can't be the same concert goer and club hopper I used to be. Frankly, I am OK with that. I prefer a meal out with friends in a relaxed atmosphere as opposed to having to yell into someone's ear to have a conversation with them. The occasional night at a club is fun, but experiencing drunk people getting into fights, having my wife getting hit on, and going home with my leather jacket soaked in beer because people keep spilling it on me makes me not want to overdo it.


I enjoy playing the clubs in my current band as it is a lot of fun, but I only go out to shows now when we have a gig or there are other bands I want to build a personal connection with that will lead to more shows and opportunities. I can't do it every weekend. Once again, I have a family. If I did go back to my lifestyle before our child came into the world, I would be served divorce papers. My wife would have every right to do so as well. A good husband has to be there for his family.


However, a night out at a show is still a damn great time. My wife and I went to see a friend's tribute band last week (a friend who also sings in a metal band with a Christian message), and it was like old times. We had lots of fun and enjoyed making connections with one of the opening bands that my own group hopes to perform with in future. Plus, it really felt good to don the leathers again and be that person I was before my daughter was born. I've always enjoyed making personal connections with musical artists and last Saturday proved I still had it in me to be that outgoing person trying to build connections. The old man's still got it. Thank God, because I thought I had lost it. It gave me confidence.


I'm telling you that story to tell you this one. It felt great to be the heavy metal Matt again. I enjoyed it so much. So much so that I have been listening to more heavy metal than I have in a long time. Slipping back into those songs is like slipping into a warm bath, very easy.


Until, I decide I want to listen to a favorite Arch Enemy song, "Diva Satanica":


"Blinded by her infinite beauty
You are lured into the temple
The smell of incense burning
This carnal pleasure yearning
Bride of Satan
Transgress the rules of this world
Too late you realize
This love is ripping you apart
Medusa... abuser... both beast and beauty
Seducer... she'll use you... as fodder for her dreams"

My favorite Arch Enemy album. "Diva Satanica" is a bonus track

It hits me...I should not be listening to music like this any more. Why? I'm going to be volunteering to be a catechist at my church. What kind of example am I setting? I'm supposed to be a Christian, not a Satanist. Why do I still have CD's by Emperor and Burzum in my collection? Not only have members of those bands burned churches, they also have a strong Nazi-esque Germanic heathenism in their lyrics. Hypocrite, I am.


I am guessing it is time for another confession haha.


In fact, why stop there? I have albums by Amon Amarth, who are also pagan heathens. Good heavens, I still enjoy AC/DC, who have songs like "Highway to Hell" and "Hell Ain't A Bad Place to Be". I'm supposed to be a Christian, why do I still listen to them or own any of their work?


Come to think of it, why do I still do the Ronnie James Dio "devil horns"? What the hell is wrong with me? I'm not exactly acting like Catholic Church catechist material. Shame on me.


Yet, I still enjoy heavy metal and progressive rock. More often than not, most lyrical content has nothing to do with evil or Satanism. I find many songs in the genres to be spiritually uplifting. Many Bible Belt Christians lambasted Iron Maiden in 1982 when The Number of the Beast was released, but the song is only about a nightmare that bassist/songwriter Steve Harris had. Most Iron Maiden tunes are about history, literature, and sometimes going through spiritual struggle i.e. "Heaven Can Wait" or "Sign of the Cross". There are many heavy metal bands who's lyrics may not even be Christian in nature, but can still be spiritually positive and uplifting.


My own band, while not a metal band, consists of members who are all fans of the genre in one way or another. Lyrically, our music does not make me uncomfortable. I get great joy out of playing and performing our songs and I thank the Lord before each and every performance, even though our music is secular. While dark, it is dark in an introspective way and an atmospheric way. That's my kind of darkness. Our main songwriter/frontman is a master at setting amazing moods with his lyrics, almost like a movie for your mind. As a lyricist myself, I do try to shape lyrics that fit my Catholic worldview without saying "I'm a Catholic rah rah rah", and in turn can be relatable to people without being in their face. No matter what state my faith is in, it still shapes me.


Yes, faith has shaped me.


I am not sure I can still enjoy songs I have always loved like Opeth's "The Moor" or anything by Tobias Sammet's Avantasia. The Nighwish album Endless Forms Most Beautiful, while a tour-de-force, makes me uncomfortable with its lyrics rooted in the secular humanism of Richard Dawkins. Even classic rock standards like "Legend of a Mind" by The Moody Blues feel uncomfortable due to the song being about Dr. Timothy Leary, a noted acid enthusiast. Jeez...maybe even Rush is off limits now (see "Freewill" and "Faithless").

Nightwish

Why? Simple. Faith. I am a Christian. I am a Catholic. I do not feel comfortable endorsing views that go against the views of Holy Mother Church, especially if I am going to be serving it.


Lord Jesus, please tell me. You brought me to a point in my life where I want to be. I have a wonderful family and friends and a talent that I thank You for. I give thanks to You before every single show I play. I give thanks to You for the friends I have made in music. I give thanks to You for calling me to volunteering in the Church. Am I doing the right thing by being put into doubt by some of the music I enjoy? Can I still be considered Your servant even if I listen to groups that spread a message that You don't approve of? Do I have to give that music up? I know You are not telling me to stop playing music and enjoying music and doing what I have been doing in my music career, but am I doing You wrong by listening to music that endorses any heathen or Satanic messages, even if they do not influence my thinking?


What next, Lord?


Coming back to metal has been healing and reinvigorating and exciting me for what influences it can give me in my own musical life and musician life. I just want the rock and roll side of me to coexist peacefully with the Christian side of me, because I am not giving either of them up.


I'm Catholic. I'm Rock and roll. I'm ME.

H & R Writers Block

"Tell my brother I tried to write and
Put pen to paper but I was frightened
I couldn't seem to get the words out right
Right, quite right"


Thin Lizzy-"Got To Give it Up


Welcome to H & R Writers Block.

Yeah, I feel ya, kitty!

It's a place where all who try to come up with a good story or a good journal entry eventually end up once they are exhausted of inspirations. There is no handling fee and no service charge. For the writer, it is Purgatory, stuck in a limbo world of no ideas and ideas that you do not want to share.


Writing about my childhood took every bit of my heart and soul. It wiped me clean of inspiration.


Yet, I felt it needed to be done.


I have hid most of my childhood thoughts and recollections from my friends and family for at least 19 years. I was trying to make a clean break from my past and run away from it, because my childhood feels like it was lived by a completely different person. I wanted to hide away from it. I didn't want anyone to know the bullied and ridiculed person I used to be. For all intents and purposes, the years 1976 to 1994 were to not exist.

Yet now, thanks to a brilliant therapist and keeping in contact with the first friend I ever had, I have revisited the past. It needed to be done. Deep down inside, I am still that same kid. I still have a lot of those same dreams. I no longer wish that I did not go through the past. Everything happened for a reason, and those reasons helped shape me into the man I am today for better or for worse.

Shut up and take my money!

I wish I could dive more in depth into them with all of you, but I am not comfortable with that yet. I've shared things in therapy that I will not even share with my own family of things that happened all those years ago. First, I have to recover. A goal of 2018 is to come to terms with my past and all that happened. Slowly, but surely, this is happening.


As for now though, I have nothing more to say until the sweet scent of inspiration captures my nostrils.

Rainy Day Remembering...

"If the rain comes
They run and hide their heads
They might as well be dead
If the rain comes
If the rain comes"
The Beatles-"Rain"


After reading this entry, you may find me strange.


You may find me contradictory.


Frankly, my dears, I don't give a damn.


I detest the rain when it is cold, murky, and windy. When a winter refuses to release its grip on us, like it is this year, rainy days usually compound any feelings of anxiety and depression I have. It makes me long for the spring, for the April Showers we are supposed to have which help bring about new life and a new beginning.

...unless it is 2018 in Pennsylvania

April showers bring May flowers. That is what is supposed to happen each and every spring. Rain is not supposed to bring despair, but renew the land.


I remember a friend I had as a small child who's name was April. I don't remember much about her other than we were friends enough that I was invited to a birthday party she had. She moved away when I was still in kindergarten or first grade, but learning her name and the month of April helped me remember the old saying in my early school days. April showers bring May flowers. I think her old house is still standing on North Second Street in Wormleysburg.


I digress so much it should be an art form. Oh yes, rain.


Why is it that a certain meteorological phenomena causes me both severe bouts of the down-in-the-dumps, and also memories that I will always hold close to me? One of my first good memories I mentioned briefly in my previous entry about growing up in Wormleysburg. That good memory was my first day of 1st grade.


There is a picture of me from that day that survives somewhere. I am not sure if I have it, or if my mother does. I have not seen it in years. Yet, there are certain details that stick out to me. One detail, was that it was a rainy day. I remember being very excited for this day and being very optimistic. It was the first day of a new school year. In later years, it was a cause of panic and terror. In this first year, it was a new beginning. New life. New places to see. It was raining. Looking back, I believe that God himself had lowered his hand to cleanse the Earth of the former school year and to make it clean for a new school year to take hold. The rain was washing the ground to pave the way for a new start. First grade.


When you are a child, you don't want to burden yourself with an umbrella. Too much to carry. My mother had bought me a yellow rain slicker with a Smurf on it, sitting on a cloud, to keep me dry on that rainy first day. I remember that I loved it because it had a Smurf on it, and I was a massive Smurf fanatic at that age. Other than that, it looked like the classic style donned by Gene Kelly in Singing In The Rain. Instead of a zipper, it had those metal buckle-type fasteners. I remember also thinking that those fasteners were kind of neat. The inquisitiveness of child's mind, finding fasteners on a jacket interesting.


Despite the rain, I recall it being a pleasant day. Maybe I am coloring it a little bit, but I'm amazed I remember this much almost 36 years on! I remember my mom with her umbrella raised and me walking along happily in my yellow jacket. The rain drops would hit my face gently and I felt the pitter-patter of the drops hitting my shoulders and rolling off, leaving slight trails as they rolled away. It was raining, but I was happy! I was going to go to a new school for the first time. Once again, I think God was washing me clean to prepare me for a new year. Of course, that wasn't on my mind as I joined my similarly attired neighborhood kids at the bus stop. I was probably thinking "hey gang!" Now, as a 41 year old, and a man who believes in God, I think that is what He was doing for me, my fellow kids, and the Earth on that day. Wash away the old, prepare for the new.


Herman Avenue Elementary School in Lemoyne, PA. That was where I went for grades 1 through 3. Mrs. Scarlato was my teacher in first grade. I remember her telling me how adorable I looked. I adored her. I wonder what happened to all of my old teachers from elementary school. Probably all either retired or passed away now.


When we were young, we wanted to ignore our parents and play in the rain anyway. We wanted to splash in puddles and have fun. Nothing was to stop us from making the most of any day, even a rainy spring or summer one. I think our colorful rain gear represented that fact. Yellow, light blue, light green, pink, and purple. Colors that say "we are going to have fun, even if it is raining". The optimism of children represented in bright colors that we donned almost in anticipation of the rainbow that we hoped would follow. That optimism goes away with age, and the dour colors of our trench coats and umbrellas that we don on rainy days on the way into the office kind of represents that loss of innocence and optimism. Bright yellows, blues, and pinks are replaced by depressing brown and black. When we once tossed our slickers and wellies on to go outside and splash around like ducks, we now don our boring brown trench coats and slog on off to the office. As a child, a rainy day could still be seen as fun. As an adult, it is a sentence to another miserable day as a cog in the machine.

Rainy days as a child, full of carefree puddle splashing and fun



Rainy days as an adult, full of pressure and stress

Maybe that is why rainy days depress me so anymore. Instead of splashing in puddles with my neighborhood buddies like I did at the age of 6, we have to spend them in the office, taking orders from some schnook. It also doesn't help that the rejuvenating spring rains have not started falling yet. We still have the cold and raw winter rains, which serve no purpose other than to make mud and mire. Today is another one of those days.


Happy rainy days are less existent when adulthood hits. If you start acting like a child, people start to laugh at you or want to call the police. You are a part of the herd...act like it! Don't walk in the rain. Don't splash in the puddles. Don't dance like you don't care. Be a cog in the machine. Your childhood days are done. Fun is an illusion.

Yet, twice in the last couple years, I had a couple moments that made me feel like I did that first day of school all over again. Moments of reflection. Moments of closeness to God.


The first time, I was driving down to Maryland to perform an odd combination of things: make a small pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Grotto of Lourdes at Mount St. Mary's University in Emmittsburg, and then drive to Baltimore for a metal show. Two actions normally not mentioned in the same sentence. In fact, I don't think they have ever been mentioned in a sentence together before! A bad thunderstorm came through the area on my drive down to the Grotto. I remember stopping at a gas station for a refreshment and heard a tornado warning was in the area, so I got back in my car and drove down the Emmittsburg Road to get south of the dangerous storm and out of its path. After driving through a torrential downpour, I made it to the Grotto. By then, the rain had tapered down to a nice shower, so I decided to get out and walk to the Grotto after donning a rain jacket I had stowed in the trunk in case I needed it.


Suitably attired, I prayed the Stations of the Cross and the rosary while the rain came down. The area of the Grotto never looked more beautiful than it did on that day. Everything looked as if God had washed it clean. The leaves glistened on the trees. The sound of the creek and the sound of the rain pattering off of the leaves on the trees created a pleasing serenade for the ears. I felt the drops on my face and saw the rivulets roll down my sleeves. God was also washing me clean. In those moments, I felt that no only was the Earth around me being renewed, but I was being renewed. I felt like I was being baptized all over again. My sins were being purged and my spirit was being awakened. I continued to walk around the grounds with a huge smile on my face and child-like innocence in my heart. I felt almost like the way I did on my first day of school all those years ago. It was a happy rainy day. A year after that, I got to experience a similar day at the Grotto. It was another faith awakening experience. I even remember just taking a moment to stand there, to be silent, and listen to all the sounds, to feel the healing waters of heaven fall upon me.

Picture I took of my rosary at the Grotto spring

I don't think I ever felt more at peace with God, or with myself. I left there wishing I could bottle that feeling and drink it up on days where my faith was tested and my anxieties made me weak.

On a day like today, I tend to forget about those happy memories. Instead of a pleasant show for the senses and the spirit, I get a chill breeze in my face and numb feet. I get a spirit that is crushed instead of a spirit that is invigorated. It is time for that to end. It is time for God to tell Mother Nature to stop fooling around and give us our proper April showers, instead of cold December drizzles. I want to appreciate the spring rains again. I want to savor the summer showers again. For a moment, I want to be the 6-year old me walking to school in his yellow Smurf rain jacket and splashing around with his friends when the day is done. I want to walk and pray in the rain like I did on those days at the Grotto. It is not just precipitation, it is God helping to wash the world and our spirits clean and call forth new hope and new life.


My prayer for today is for more chances to experience that innocence and peace once again. My prayer for you all is to also have the same. Don't be afraid to walk or dance in the spring showers once they come, because the sun comes out afterwards that will bring forth a rainbow to a new beginning.

Remembering Wormleysburg, the half-horse town that I called home.

"It's just as if some restless wind blew their dreams away far away
It's just as if those dreams had never been but oh-
I feel their ghosts around me now- I hear them say
They've come back home to dream those dreams again"
Kansas-"Ghosts"

From 1981 to 1994, I made my home with my mom and dad in Wormleysburg, Pennsylvania.


It's motto was "A Capital Reflection", as it is right across the river from the capital city of Harrisburg. This town, although pleasant enough, was not a reflection of the capital. In 1994, the population was 2,643. Today, it is a little over 3,000. To me, it is the strangest town ever.

Keystone marker for Wormleysburg, PA

There is no Main Street, no downtown area, no real industry or economy to speak of. Not many businesses call Wormleysburg home. Only two churches exist in the town. Growing up, I went to service in both of them, and my parents were married in St. Paul's United Methodist Church on Front Street in 1972. Both churches were, and probably still are, quite blah. I think that is why I disliked religion so much until my conversion in my late 20's.


Despite it being a suburban borough in a well-to-do county, Wormleysburg was not idyllic. It still isn't. Even little Wormleysburg had it's street kids, ones who dominated certain neighborhoods and you did not pass through them if you were not accepted. Sometimes I got on well with them, other times I did not. I was beaten up my fair share of times. Honestly, I don't think I ever won a fight in my old neighborhood. Nowadays though, I could hold my own as the scruples I had as a child are gone.


When I return to my old neighborhood, I can drive my car through it in what appears to be only a few minutes. Yet, when I was a child, riding my bike up and down the streets, it seemed huge. As I drive up and down Second Street, the street I used to live on, I still expect to see the same street urchins in the lower end of town playing basketball or street hockey in the court down near the borough hall, police station, and fire house. I know now, that most of them have probably moved on and away. There is really no future to be had in that small town.

North Front Street, Wormleysburg, PA

Yet, I still feel the ghosts and hear the voices from my earlier days.


My old home, in the 200 block of North Second Street, is still there, albeit painted beige as opposed to the blue color it was when my parents and I lived there. A large pine tree, one of the largest in the town, used to be there in the backyard. Now, it is gone. I mourn it's loss, as it truly was the tallest tree I had ever seen. I could see it from the second floor window of my aunt's house, which was a good 3 blocks away in the 400 block of North Second.


For some strange reason, I want to stop at my old home, knock on the door, and pleasantly greet the occupants and tell them I used to live there, so I can see what has become of my old home, and see my old room. I want to feel those innocent memories again. Is that strange, or is it normal?


I feel tears well up in my eyes when I think about the house that used to be next to mine. My first childhood friend lived there, whom I still keep in touch with. Memories, both good and bad, are ones I associate with my house and her house, and the yards that were in back of our homes. Happy memories and painful ones. Yet, to all of the memories, I look back with a smile on my face. Now, there is only an empty lot where that home used to stand. I don't know why it was torn down to this day. Yet, I mourn it's loss. It was my best friend's home.


My best friends growing up...I don't talk about them much. I don't really feel the need to. I don't think I could re-establish a regular relationship with any of them. Other than my neighbor/my first and best friend, whom I love like a long lost sister, I don't even really give much thought to them. The body is not the only thing that grows and changes. The mind also grows, and when the last things you have to talk about are tackle football games you used to play, you aren't going to have much to build on. So, I do not mourn the loss of the friendship of my other friends from the neighborhood. Yet, I look forward to a re-union with my neighbor/best friend, because we have lots of things to talk about, both good and bad, and respective families to meet. I have a wife and daughter, and my friend has a family of her own.

Railroad bridge over the Lemoyne Bottleneck that I used to walk over

I also miss another friend terribly to be honest. We became best buds growing up through high school and spent lots of time together, mostly playing and watching football, playing video games, and going to sporting events. I also became good friends with his wife-to-be. I figured if anyone would become a friend into my adult years, it was him. Yet, we lost contact with each other, and even though we went to a Washington Redskins game in 2006 and I received a call from him about a mutual friend who died a few years later, we lost contact. I wish him and his family the best and pray that God watch over them. Hopefully time or social media will help us reunite one day.


Then, there was another person I was friends with. I took a liking to him because he had a great sense of humor and did lots of things that made people upset with him. I saw in him the defiant personality I wish I was growing up. He ended up becoming my worst influence and someone whom I do not miss. Thanks to him, I got in trouble with my parents a lot, became a thief and a vandal, and took part in many misadventures. He was a manipulator, who was good at holding things over your head and forcing you to their will. In fact, his friendship is prime territory for a discussion with my therapist tonight. We haven't spoken in about 24 years, and to be honest, I have been trying to repress the memory of knowing this cancerous personality for just as long. The only prayer I have for him is that he has changed his ways and made a better person of himself. Other than that, I wish we never would have met.


When I also think of Wormleysburg, I think of the times I've left my blood on those streets. Be it through a fall on the bicycle or being hit by a rock thrown at me, I've left some on the asphalt there. I have been beaten up many times on those streets. To this day, I could walk you to exact places where I was beaten up and tell you who did it. I can even remember the last time it happened, by a wooden fence behind the old convenience store on North Front Street towards West Fairview. That fence is still there, and looking over towards it when I drive past it makes horrible memories flood up.

John Wormley house. My home was two blocks behind it.

I smell the dirt on my face and the grass on my jeans from the football games in the yard. I feel the rain on my face and the sound of the raindrops hitting my yellow raincoat and rolling off my shoulders during the walk to the bus stop on my first day of school. I hear the wheels on my old Schwinn bicycle turn and the gravel shoot from the tires as I would pedal my heart out while riding my bike on another adventure. I feel the aches on my body from the time I was attacked with apples. I see the blood red stain on my shirt from when someone punched me in the nose. I taste the great hamburgers my dad made on our backyard grill. I see the boat we used to have on the trailer in the backyard. I see my first neighbor/first friend for the first time, coming out of her side door. I feel the pain in my skull when someone slammed my head into the sidewalk once while I they were giving me a pounding. I remember hearing the trains on the railroad tracks behind the house and how that would help me sleep at night. I remember many walks on those tracks on summer days. I remember taking the train tracks home to hide from people who wanted to tease me and use me as a punching bag. I even remember two fights I got into on the tracks, and I time I wish to forget that involved the railroad tracks, my manipulative "friend", and stolen baseball cards. I remember riding my bike to City Island to sneak into Harrisburg Senators baseball games, and a time when a bunch of bullies chased me off the island and back home. I never went to the ballpark alone for a while after that.


On days where there is a cold chill in the air, my mind often turns towards my old hometown. There are many bad memories, but also many good ones that I try to wrap myself up in when times get cold. I want to return to the empty lot that was my first friend's home with my wife, daughter, and my first neighbor/friend and her family, so we can talk about the good and bad times.


Wormleysburg. You weren't much. You still aren't. Yet, you were my home.

We're ignorant, so we're condemned, unless we have the courage to learn history

"Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."
Loki-The Avengers (2012)




I have been reading a lot about Adolf Hitler and Nazi Germany as of late, and have picked up several books on the subject at a local second hand bookstore (Cupboard Maker Books, Enola, PA. Best bookstore in Central PA!). I have already been diving into The Life and Death of Adolf Hitler by Robert Payne, a very fascinating, educational, and chilling biography.


If you know me well, you would not think much of it. No, not because my close friends think I am a closet Nazi, but because history is one of my passionate pursuits. Yes, I enjoy the history of theology, but I am not too interested in much else when it comes to pre-18th century history. Not because it is not interesting, but because of time. I don't have the time to delve as deep as I would like to go. Also, it is easier to follow more relatively recent world history simply due to the fact that there are more eyewitness accounts and more documentation. In the case of Hitler and the Third Reich, you have a small but substantial amount of people whom are still living that can share their stories.

Educating yourself about historical villains and regimes is the best defense from ever letting them happen again. To quote George Santayana, "Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness. When change is absolute there remains no being to improve and no direction is set for possible improvement: and when experience is not retained, as among savages, infancy is perpetual. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." Well, if that is the case, then we are in trouble as a society. The way I see it, there are many out there today who do not know history and are not willing to learn about it. Why do I say this?

Because the same thing happens over and over again. Over and over again. People get swept up in the storm of the personality cult. We unite behind one person who we believe can save the world, or the country. We mount them on a pedestal and give them almost super-human characteristics. Why do we do it?


We do it because I think we ignore Santayana's advice...a lot. We ignore it because we are scared of history.


But I digress. Anyway, if you know me well, me walking out of a second hand bookstore with 2 feet of Nazi books is not surprising due to my love of history. However, if many of you are reading about this for the first time, you might be shocked, appalled, offended, or wanting to cut off communication with me. If you mention anything Nazi related today, you get a lot of curious looks and raised eyebrows. Hell, I felt like a dirty old man leaving a 7-Eleven with a couple of copies of Penthouse and Playboy when I bought several books about Hitler and Nazi Germany. Why would you think like
that? Do you think I want to join an SS reenactment group? Do you think I carry a photo of Heinrich Himmler in my wallet? Do you see me talking fervently about Lebensraum? Do you think I want to see the Jews wiped off of the face of the Earth? If you answered "yes" to any of these questions,
please stop reading this and don't ever talk to me again, because you are very small minded to think that learning about history is akin to racism and anti-Semitism.


I think many younger people today are ignorant of learning history because they do not want to be "offended". Well, prepare to be offended and "triggered". History is full of people you are not going to like, but you are going to HAVE to learn about, so you don't REPEAT their mistakes and commit their sins. Learn about them so you don't follow a leader like the Germans to Hitler, or the Italians to Mussolini, or the Russians to Stalin, or Cuba to Castro, or Cambodia to Pol Pot, or Venezuela to Chavez. I'd mention other names but that sentence would have run on for ages.


First off, I am reading about Hitler and the Reich because I think the phrase "Nazi" is overused and misused nowadays, and the name "Hitler" is used too much in arguments, especially on social media. To me, if someone compares another to Hitler, you have lost the argument already. Unless the person
you are arguing with is responsible for the deaths of 50 million people, then it is not applicable and is an insult to someone whom is probably a responsible and upstanding citizen who would not hurt a fly, let alone 50 million people! Save it for anyone you know who might be a dictator, and unless you are bosom buddies with Kim-Jong Un, you have no reason to use it. They aren't a dictator, they just probably *gasp!* voted for a politician you didn't like. THE NERVE! Everyone must think like you, of course! Unless you see people goose-stepping and wearing red arm bands with swastikas on them, chances are they are not Nazis. Voting for the other person doesn't make your dissenter a card carrying member of the NSDAP, a party that was banned in 1945. Republicans, Democrats, you both do it. Wrong, wrong, wrong.


Secondly, I am reading about Adolf Hitler because I want to get inside his mind. I took a psychology class in college and while I never pursued it as a field, it gave me a hunger to learn about why people do what they do and why they think like they do. If you want to find out what drew people to Hitler's message, you need to find out who he was. What was his family like? What was his childhood like? In what type of environment did he grow up in? Where was he born? What events happened that might have transformed him into the despot we all know and despise? They are all important things to know. So, research him and find out.

Adolf Hitler

Thirdly, I think Adolf Hitler was a fascinating individual. Once again, relax! You can totally despise someone and still find them fascinating. Why are books about serial killers best sellers? Why are specials about Hitler so prominent on the History Channel? Because the public still finds him to be a
fascinating individual after all of these years. How could a book or a documentary about someone who was a failed artist and a lay about, who somehow became one of the most powerful leaders ever NOT be fascinating? He wasn't a General. He wasn't rich. He wasn't from nobility. Yet, somehow, he became feared by, revered by, and hypnotizing to the masses. He came within a hair's breadth of conquering all of Europe. Yet, he was not a strategist like Napoleon or Alexander The Great. He was just an errand boy for the German Army, a lowly corporal. If ever there was a someone who should not be, Hitler was it.


Fourthly, I am reading about Adolf Hitler because he was a human being. Yes, it is considered a cardinal sin to "humanize" Adolf Hitler. However, if you want to learn about a historical figure, no matter how reprehensible they are, you have to see them as just another human being. We have a tendency to dehumanize people who have committed sins and crimes against humanity and our human emotions have every right to do so! Yet, under it all, they are human beings too. So, even if you find it difficult, you have to look at Hitler as a human being who had real emotions and feelings and things he enjoyed. You might not like doing it, but if you want to dig into history and learn about the worst parts of it, you have to humanize the worst dictator despot as well as the most heroic and virtuous of role-models. Yet, no one has the guts to do that anymore. We're too afraid to be offended. Are you afraid to know your enemy?


We ignore history, much to the chagrin of people like George Santayana. As such, instead of learning from those lessons, we repeat them.


Stalin. Ceausescu. Mussolini. Hitler. Franco. Castro. Hoxha. Pol Pot. Peron. Hirohito. Mao. Ho Chi Minh. Kim-Jong Il. Kim-Jong Un. Hugo Chavez. Ferdinand Marcos. Idi Amin (apologies for being out of order with these names)...and the hits just keep on coming! All of them are lessons repeated by a world population that you'd think would know better. Why? Maybe Loki was right. Humanity craves subjugation, instead of freedom. Maybe it is desperation, as many of these aforementioned names took advantage of a weak populace that was dealing with mass hunger, poverty, and unrest. People crave order as well as freedom, and so we should! Yet, we keep letting order and control override freedom. That needs to change.

Loki as portrayed by Tom Hiddleston

We do the same here in the United States as well. Every 4 years we pick our sides and unite behind one person as if they define our hopes and dreams and act as if our candidate loses, the country, and the world, is doomed. And, for the next 4 years, the winning side struts like a peacock and the losing
side acts as the "resistance". All because we put our hopes and dreams on one man or woman and get emotionally involved. We think our guy/gal tells the truth and the other guy/gal is a lying sack of snake feces. In reality, all politicians are lying sacks of snake feces. Why, oh why, do we keep getting
charmed by their lies and repeating history instead of learning from it?


What is so scary about it, is that politicians, while not approving of Hitler or his worldview or his politics, somehow follow his playbook. The following is quoted from Mein Kampf, and it is chilling: "Propaganda must not investigate the truth objectively and, in so far as it is favourable to the other side, present it according to the theoretical rules of justice; yet it must present only that aspect of the truth which is favourable to its own side. The receptive powers of the masses are very restricted, and their understanding is feeble. On the other hand, they quickly forget. Such being the case, all effective propaganda must be confined to a few bare essentials and those must be expressed as far as possible in stereotyped formulas. These slogans should be persistently repeated until the very last individual has come to grasp the idea that has been put forward. Every change that is made in the subject of a propagandist message must always emphasize the same conclusion. The leading slogan must of course be illustrated in many ways and from several angles, but in the end one must always return to the assertion of the same formula."


Sounds like every political campaign, ever. Once again, I am not accusing any sitting or former US president of being in league with the Nazis or even approving of their views. I am just saying how scary it is when you compare Nazi propaganda to modern campaigning. It's too scary.


Yet, around the world, we keep repeating history instead of learning from it. Whether it being hypnotized by a dictator despot or a Senator from Ohio just running for president, we keep falling for it. When will we understand that freedom is better than subjugation? Why do we seek a political messiah to save our nations, our world from despair? When will we learn that the power lies in us?


We do not remember, nor learn from the past. Therefore, we are condemned to repeat it. THAT is why we cannot run away from or ignore history, no matter how ugly it is. So, stop running, stop being offended, and start reading. Use it as an excuse to support your local library or your local independent bookstore.

Home...sweet parish home...why did I wait so long?

"Train up a child in the way he should go,
and when he is old he will not depart from it."
Proverbs 22:6


I am a Catholic parent.


I am not a good one. For a long time I believed in an "eighth sacrament" that was very much in force in the Church in the 1960's and 1970's, when the groundswell of the Vatican II reforms led Church leaders to severe misinterpretation of its wishes. The "eighth sacrament" I speak of is the Sacrament of Holy Osmosis. The "Sacrament of Holy Osmosis" is the one where you let the Religious Education department at your Church teach your child, but your own attitude is quite lackadaisical or you just feel that you don't have the knowledge or the ability to teach your child in the faith. For a long time, I "believed" in that "eighth sacrament". How wrong of me.


Now, don't get me wrong. I feel, and have always felt, the Catholic faith is the greatest gift I can give my beautiful daughter. Yet, due to my own anxieties and my displeasure at raising her in a new parish as opposed to the one my faith was formed in gave me an almost lackadaisical attitude towards it. This new parish was not my spiritual home. These people were not my friends that I had bonded with through RCIA and my early years in the Church. These people were strangers. I did not want to get close to anyone. I did not want to be a part of the parish. I just wanted Lillian and I to go to church on Sunday and class on Wednesday night and go home.

Good point.

For a while, I felt that was the right attitude. She's a KID! Kids don't like church! And this is the CATHOLIC CHURCH! We don't have Sunday School or other things to take things down to a more "kid" level while we parents celebrate the Mass. This is going to be doomed to fail from the beginning. Whenever her "Godmothers" (I consider my God-sister as her "deputy") are around, it was easy to get Lillian to be more enthusiastic. However, due to us all having different lives and schedules, they can't always be around to help. Plus, it is not right to always depend on others to pick up the slack. YOU are the parent. YOU are the one who has to do the job.


I have always called anxiety the Devil's marionette strings. Well, he has worked them so well in that regard.


As time has gone by in this first year of her Religious Education, she has proven me wrong. She has done an excellent job in her studies and knows a heck of a lot more than I could have hoped. She seems...interested! How do you like that? Amazing! I am so proud of her! Her intelligence never ceases to stop surprising me.


She has also started chastising me for leaving church right after Mass is over! Hey, she's a kid. I thought she would be hungry and bored. But no, she wants to get to know people! She wants to be involved! She wants to be a part of the Mass!


OK, maybe I need to start warming up to other people in my parish and get to know as many people as I can. Lord knows I have been beaten over the head many times about it. It's time to stop being a stranger. Even my Andrea, who is a Lutheran, started encouraging me to do so. She has been getting more involved in her own church life and it has done her a world of good. I am very happy for my lovely wife in that regard!


So, with nothing to lose and no trepidation (yes, no trepidation), Lily and I went to her class as normal yesterday. But I did something different this time. I opened up.


Lily saw Fr. Smith, and I encouraged her to say hello. I introduced myself properly as well for the first time. The three of us talked for a few minutes and I told them that we were fairly new. We had a nice little conversation and then I took her back to her class. Her teacher was late due to picking up some audio/visual equipment for the class, so I stayed in the classroom and watched over the other children until he arrived. When he did, I warmly greeted him and said I wanted to talk to him afterwards. It was time for her class to start, so I decided to go upstairs and say a prayer in the sanctuary. I don't remember what I prayed for, but it must have been something about helping us "find our place here, because we want to serve You".


Her class ended and I came in and joined them all in a Hail Mary. After everyone other than Lily and I were left, I started letting it out. I mentioned how I joined the faith and how I missed my old parish and how I have not felt like I was at home here, but told him I was hungry for Lily and I to truly be a part of this parish and how can we get involved. We ended up talking for almost 45 minutes after her class about opportunities to serve, and one of those opportunities was one I thought I would never have again after leaving the Lutheran church: teaching!


Flashback (cue the harp music):


When I was in the Lutheran church, I was close to becoming a Sunday School teacher. I was enthusiastic about doing it and thought it could have led to a fruitful second "career", and I would have been serving Him. However, all of the reading and research I had been doing ended up leading me out of the Lutheran church and leading me to Home Sweet Rome. So, when that was over, I thought I would never have that chance again because I wasn't a nun or a priest and I didn't have 50 years of seminary. So, I shoved that to the back of my mind, but it always ate at me. I love theology. I love talking about it. When it comes to the faith it is my passion to learn about the ins and outs of it. However, since I figured I had no chance of being a teacher because I have no degree and I am just a lay person, I filed it away, but I still held on to the dream.


Yeah, I also thought for a long time that lay people could only play a part in the Protestant church and not the Catholic Church, at least a part that would be ministry related. That's what I feel called to, some form of ministry, because I don't look like your typical church goer, and younger people seeing someone like that minister to others would be a powerful statement that, hey, the Church is not just some building that old people go to on Sunday. The youth can play a part, too, and still be who they are for the most part.


Back to yesterday: Lily's teacher told me to talk to the REP Coordinator about teaching, because they are always looking for people to help! I said that "Oh my goodness, YES! I would love to talk to them about it!" and I told him how I nearly became a Sunday School teacher. All this time, Lily is studying the materials used on the altar at Mass (a mock altar was set up for her class), and her teacher and I happily told her what they are all used for. This was great! She's INTERESTED in this stuff! So, I asked, how old does she have to be to be an altar server? He said, you can sign her up after her first Holy Communion! Hello! Consider it done.


With one 45 minute conversation, two long years of frustration and unhappiness in my new parish melted away like snow. It was like the voice of Jesus had come down from Heaven and said "Why have you not listened to your wife and your godfamily for all this time, you moron! It was all right there for you the whole time! All you had to do is ask. I wasn't blowing smoke when I said 'Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.' " When I picture Jesus talking to me, I figure He talks to me in a no bullshit manner, because I've always been pretty petulant and stubborn. I'm sure Our Lord face palms a lot when He looks down on me!

Why did I not remember this advice sooner?

We left the parish in an excellent mood, and Lily asked me a question, and after I answered it I told her of my hope to be a deacon in my retirement years. So, we talked about why priests do what they do, and I told her a priest's bride is the Church, which is why they don't marry, but they wear wedding rings. It was the first REAL conversation we ever had about anything Church related, and I felt I was talking to a child who was actually interested in what I said!


We made a connection. I honestly thought it would never happen.


Even this morning, I am beaming. The world seems a whole lot lighter, and the Lord seems a whole lot friendlier and happier. I feel the proudest I have ever felt as a father, and a Catholic. I truly cannot wait until next class to declare my intentions to the REP coordinator about becoming an instructor and helping young minds discover the joy of the Church. I cannot wait for Lily's First Holy Communion on May 5th. I look forward so much to this new chapter in our faith journey, where we become part of a new parish and a new parish family.


So, I ask you all, no matter what your faith and no matter what your belief, to pray for Lillian and I as we begin a new chapter. Pray for her that she continues to grow in her faith, and for me as I begin the journey to becoming a Religious Ed teacher. Pray for my dear wife as she grows in her faith, and pray for Lily's Godparents and my own Godfamily as they continue to watch over us with love.


God bless you.

"Germany...(I want to get) Lost in Germany"

Listening to all the gibberish around me.
Wonder, how much longer can I stand it?
Looking for a phone I cannot find.
Ohh woe is me. Like a politician in disguise,
you know I had to look you in the eyes and
smile, while I crawled another mile in Germany.
Lost in Germany"


King's X-"Lost in Germany"

"Deutschland, Deutschland uber alles!"


My mom recently did one of those Ancestry.com DNA tests. When she said she wanted to share the results with me, I was thrilled. Finally, I would at least know half of my true heritage. When I learned most of my roots were in Germany, I was not surprised, but now at least I knew part of the story.

I've always downplayed the German part of my heritage. One, because it is so common in my region of the United States. It's not exactly a revelation or something to celebrate because it is not unique. If you say you are part German, no one bats an eye. So is about half the people in your family and your circle of friends if you are a south-central Pennsylvania native.


Reason two is because Germany has a few enormous black marks against their history: World War 1. World War 2. The Nazi Party. The Holocaust. Rudolf Hess. Hermann Goering. Heinrich Himmler. Josef Mengele. Adolf Hitler. Dachau. Auschwitz. Bergen-Belsen. The Berlin Wall. Who wants to be associated with a country that has infamous people, places, and moments like that associated with it? Doesn't exactly want to make someone jump up and say how proud they are to be of German ancestry. Especially me.


However, due to my mom's discovery, I am more interested in studying the history of Germany and visiting the country. I know for certain it would be a country I would enjoy visiting.

First off, I love good food, and I have always wanted to have proper German cuisine. I know some might say "You are in PA Dutch country. You already know German cuisine". No, I know Americanized versions of German cuisine. I want the real deal. I want to have proper German beer and go to a proper Oktoberfest. I want to drive on the Autobahn at 150 miles an hour. I want to visit the Black Forest region. I want to go to Berlin and have my picture taken by what is left of the Berlin Wall. I want to see all the quaint little towns, country villages, mountains, hills, and fields that dot the landscape. I want to go to Hamburg and see where the Beatles honed their skills as a live band. I want to go to Munich and visit the Olympic Park and Stadium, and the Olympic Village so I can pay my respects to the Israeli Olympic team members that lost their lives in the Munich Massacre.


Is it wrong to say I want to visit the sites where the concentration camps were? I want to pay my respects to the victims of the Holocaust as well as the memory of a couple of Catholic saints who were also victims: St. Edith Stein and St. Maximilian Kolbe. I feel weird saying I want to do that, because it was one of the biggest genocides in human history and I don't want to treat that as some "tourist attraction", because it isn't. Am I making any sense? I hope so.


I'd love to visit the town that 6-time Formula One world champion Michael Schumacher came from, Kerpen. I'd love to visit the town that current racing superstar Sebastian Vettel is from. I'd love to go to rock concerts like Rock Am Ring or Wacken. I'd love to see if I could drive a lap of the legendary Nurburgring Nordschleife. There are so many things I would love to do in Germany.

One thing I want to see is streetscapes like this! So cool!

Mostly, it would be to find out if I still have roots there, or living relatives, no matter how distant. If I met them, I would want to know what they saw and what the felt about all of the big world events that shaped our planet and our respective homelands. I would want to know if they ever knew that they had distant relatives and if they had searched for them. I would also want to know if any of them lived through the horror that was Nazi Germany and the Third Reich. Let me just say I would have a lot of questions. I would be talking to people who have a bit of my blood in theirs, and they in mine, so yes, there are many things I would like to know.


One day, I hope my family and I will make the trip. It is important for me to hopefully visit all of the lands that my ancestors called home.

Self-Improvement does not end with mistakes

"You got to grow, you got to learn by your mistakes
You got to die a little every day just to try to stay awake
When you believe there's no mountain you can climb
And if you get it wrong, you'll get it right next time, next time"
Gerry Rafferty-"Get It Right Next Time"


Don't worry, you will get it right the next time.


There is a problem with that old maxim: Sooner or later there is no next time, and it has to be this time or bust.


We are an impatient people. We want everything here and now. We are not equipped to wait for it patiently. People slip up all the time and make so many mistakes or say the wrong thing so many times that they might as well just keep that foot in their mouths. We used to think our mistakes were our greatest teachers. Now, we think our mistakes can be corrected instantly. In our current culture, it is easy to think that. We can erase whole paragraphs in the blink of an eye on a computer. We have functions on our smartphones that auto-complete words for us. Mistakes have almost become a
blight on a society that is obsessed with perfection and speed.

I think that is wrong. Dead wrong. Making a mistake is not a sin. Please note I am talking about mistakes, not sins. Don't start a murderous rampage or start sleeping with multiple partners behind your spouse's back (those are sins, not mistakes). Know thy difference.  Even the good book says that a just man falls seven times a day. When Jesus was proclaiming the word during His public ministry, he upped that number to seventy times seven! Even the perfect man had to admit that man is an imperfect creature. Yet, the mistake prone among us are sentenced to a life of being told about how sick and tired others are of our mishaps.


Accidents happen. Mistakes are a part of being human, and it is time that our so-called modern minds understand that once again.


I have been trying very, very hard to change things about myself that I do not like. Some behaviours are easily corrected. Others take a longer time and constantly need to be adjusted. It is very difficult to change many things about yourself all at once. It might be difficult for you too. It might be
difficult for us all. Yet, we are still expected to change and improve right away. The human psyche cannot change itself that fast. Bad habits and behaviors become ingrained in us and need to be worked out with time and adjustment. That is happening, just not as fast as I would like it to.

Even when I get something right, it seems like I get two things incorrect. I'll get A down to perfection, but mess up royally on B and C. So, then I will focus on B and C, but then A suffers. It would be nice to get all A, B and C correct the first time out. Or, I will start getting everything
correct, but instead of doing it in a rapid manner, I will make something a little bit better each time around. But no, that is not good enough. There is no next time. One and done. If you fail, you failed. Don't even think of trying again.


Well, I am proud of the small steps forward that I take in my self-improvement journey. Lots of small steps eventually equal big steps. They are steps I would not have felt the need to take if I did not have a family that loves me and friends that love me and a therapist who listens to me instead of just
going all Freudian. Improvement is improvement even if it is not at the speed of sound.


And yes, like it or not, I will keep making mistakes. Because I want to? No, because I am human. I hate making mistakes. I don't like making mistakes the one least bit. Yet, each mistake serves to teach a lesson to be learned and a chance for personal and spiritual improvement.


Now, hold on one second. Am I saying that you should DELIBERATELY make mistakes? NO! What I AM saying is that you should not beat yourself up when you make an error. There are many times where I want to punch my own brains out for making mistakes. However, that is not healthy. Or, I usually want to sulk for a little bit and feel like I am in a no-win situation. Also, not healthy. There is nothing wrong with being contrite. There is something wrong with being self-destructive. Tell yourself that "I screwed up. My fault. I accept responsibility. I will do my best to learn from this mistake and not do it again". Yes, that might be a simplified and secularized form of a Catholic Act of Contrition, but that is a wonderful model for expressing regret for making a mistake. It is also spiritually uplifting.

Also, I believe that those who criticize the ones who make lots of mistakes should definitely ease up and be more understanding. Don't chastise someone too vehemently. Unless your name is God, chances are you have made a whole comedy of errors in your lifetime. So please be fair, but don't be afraid to be firm. Firm does not have to mean austere. Also, if you call yourself a Christian, I hold you to an even higher standard. ALWAYS FORGIVE. ALWAYS FORGIVE. ALWAYS FORGIVE. How can you call yourself a Christian if you withold forgiveness? My apologies if I offend anyone who reads this who is a Christian and has trouble forgiving, but I didn't write the rule book, someone much higher than me did.


If the road of life was muddy, I'd be coated in mud from head to toe, as I have slipped and fallen so many times that I should just lay there and get used to it. Yet, I will not. I will get back up and clean that mud off and continue to try my best. I will not give up. What I ask of my family and friends, the ones I love and care about, and everyone else on this planet, is to bear with me as I bear with you. Yes, sometimes I will make a wrong turn or get something wrong or be in a bad mood or misspeak.

So. Will. You. What will I do when that happens?


I will forgive you. Please do the same for me.