Longing for the English countryside...I might have distant relatives there.

"Hear the lark and harken to the barking of the dog fox
Gone to ground
See the splashing of the kingfisher flashing to the water
And a river of green is sliding unseen beneath the trees
Laughing as it passes through the endless summer, making for the sea
In the lazy water meadow I lay me down
All around me golden sun flakes covering the ground
Basking in the sunshine of a bygone afternoon
Bringing sounds of yesterday into this city room"
Pink Floyd-"Grantchester Meadows"

The British countryside. I long to one day see it with my own eyes instead of just seeing it on television. It's dramatic beauty has touched my heart.


In addition, there is a strong personal reason to set off on a journey to England, but more on that later.

First, I need to say something.


I have nothing against city life and more power to anyone who likes to live that way. There are many advantages to living in a thriving metropolis as opposed to a sleepy country town. Yet, the disadvantages are many. Most notably, everything is packed in close together, there's lots of pollution, noise, and crime. Sure, it's nice to visit the city and get caught up in the adventure of it all. I could not live that way though, full stop. Noise and chaos versus peace and tranquility? Peace and tranquility wins, no question.

You don't see views like this in the States. Magnificent

Yes, I do love country living. I love the wide open spaces and the acres of farmland that bring us God's bounty. I love the starry nights and the sound of crickets chirping. I love sitting on the back porch with a cuppa and staring out at a patch of land that belongs to you. I love seeing my daughter play with her friends in the huge field behind our house. I love going to the local greenhouse and the local farmers market. I love having to use a tractor to mow our grass. Everything just feels more down to earth and real in the countryside.


There is a difference between country life in the United States and country life in England that makes me very jealous of our former motherland.


The baggage.


The pastoral lifestyle (pastoral meaning "country") in the United States is often ridiculed and maligned, and honestly, I can see why. Country folk in the USA are mostly seen as ignoramuses who drink beer all day and say "YEE HAH!" and are not very tolerant of different views and lifestyles. While I personally know that it is just a stereotype, there is a lot of truth to the stereotype. Dilapidated houses, auto parts in the front yard, news stories of people cutting off a man's beard and forcing him to eat it...you name it, it seems to have happened. The "redneck" stereotype has ruined the allure of country living in the eyes of many. Sadly, many "rednecks" wear that name as a badge of honor.


In England, the lifestyle is a complete opposite. If you are a country person in the UK, you are seen as a dignified gentleman farmer or landowner who takes pride in his crop, his family, and his community. Country towns in the UK appear to be elegant yet simple with family owned restaurants, simple but nice accomodations for travelers, and pubs that seem to put the nicest pubs in the USA to shame. In those towns, everybody knows everybody. Country life and sophistication go hand in hand.

I want to go to England and visit a country town and stay there for a few days. I want a taste of the sophisticated country life that I have gotten a glimpse of in the hit British mystery series Grantchester. I want to see the beauty that was captured in pastoral Pink Floyd songs like "Fat Old Sun" and "Grantchester Meadows". I want to take a walk to the village square, have a pint at the local pub while throwing a game of darts, sit in a field and listen to the cows mooing and the sheep bleating and the chickens clucking. I want to walk in a meadow and feel the morning dew on my fingers and smell the tall grass. I want to fish in the Cam. I want to take a trip to Cambridge and see the university and walk where intellectual giants once walked.

The Green Man pub, Grantchester

I want to see ancient castles, to be awed by the majesty of the White Cliffs of Dover. I want to touch and feel pieces of ancient history, to connect myself with my ancestors. Yes, my ancestors.


I never thought much of my last name, Bankes. For years, I have hated it with a passion. No one ever pronounces it right. Some of my longtime friends even have trouble with it. It was twisted into laughable terms by schoolmates who disliked me. Having a grandfather who was a fall down drunk and a father who was successful in his own business but could not escape his inner demons and ended up taking his own life made me feel that no one who has ever carried my last name amounted to a hill of beans. Hell, sometimes I think the fact that I have this last name is a curse towards the band I am a part of. For many a moon I figured this last name was the last name of mediocrity.


Then, one day, I Googled my last name and found out that a family with the last name of "Bankes" was an important family of aristocrats who lived in the south of England, most notably in the town of Dorset.


WHAAAT?


Yes. According to Wikipedia "The first (Bankes) family seat was in Corfe Castle which was destroyed during the civil war when the Bankeses, who were cavaliers (royalist followers), were besieged by parliament forces. After the return of King Charles II the Bankeses again rose to political power. Their new home, built at Kingston Lacy has survived until the present day, under the guide of the National Trust. The family vault is located in the Church of Wimborne Minster, not far from their Kingston Lacy estate. In the late 19th century the Bankeses built a summer beach house at Studland in Dorset. The manor house as it is named is now a hotel. A large pub in the village, frequented by beach visitors, is known as the Bankes Arms Inn. The family church, St Stephen's is on the far edge of the Kingston Lacy estate at Pamphill. The road up to the church is lined with a row of trees planted in 1846. The 19th century rebuild of the church replaced a decaying ruin of a church that had existed since 1229. The church has several monuments dedicated to the Bankes family, as well as a window and five pews decorated with the family coat of arms."


So, people with my family name lived in Corfe Castle, which was built by William The Conqueror. They controlled large portions of land throughout Dorset and were a prominent family for over 400 years. They built and lived in an extravagant home that is protected by the National Trust to this day, which is Kingston Lacy. A pub and a hotel bear my last name in this town.


Oh. My. Goodness.

Bankes Arms Hotel. My last name....always mocked, mispronounced, and made fun of...on a hotel?

My last name is not very common. I have a strong feeling that I could somehow be connected to this family by a very distant relative. I could come from aristocratic blood. After discovering this, I do not have the strong feelings of hatred and dislike towards my much mispronounced last name. I have a mission now, to get to England and visit Dorset and try to discover a part of my roots. It burns within me like a lust in my body.


So, you could say that making a journey to Dorset, England is not just an excuse to see the English countryside and seaside. It has become personal. I pray I can do this within the next few years, before I am too old. Yet, despite having a passport and having conquered my fear of flight, I still have a small fear of crossing an ocean in an airplane because at least over land you can set the plane down if you have a problem. I would love if my family could join me as well, because they have that name via marriage and my beautiful daughter has part of my blood coursing through her veins. Plus, my wife and I have always considered visiting England high on our list of European countries to visit.


No wonder the English countryside is calling to me! There could be a long lost family connection to be made and a history to be learned about, and a birthright to be claimed.

Testimony (Part 1)

"Did I promise you a sky
Where rain would never fall?
Or did you listen to a lie
Did you radio to base?
I waited for your call
But you left without a trace
But I could stop your plane (stop your plane)
From drifting out of range (far away)"


Threshold-"Pilot In the Sky of Dreams"


A few years ago, I planned to write a book about a very important milestone in my life, but I never got around to it. So, I feel like sharing the condensed version of that story right now. I feel the time is right to do this, and I feel anyone who reads this, even if they don't share my views, will still find it worth a read to see where I am coming from.


It's my testimony. You might as well cue WWE Hall of Famer D-Von Dudley saying "OHHHH TESTIFYYYY!"

D-Von Dudley as Reverend D-Von. TESTIFY!

If you are not familiar with churchy or religious lingo, testimony is when someone tells the story about their faith journey and what led them to their relationship with Jesus Christ.


As for testimony, I have given chunks of the story over the years, but never the whole kittenkaboodle.


You are reading a "diet" kittenkaboodle.


Here we go...


I was born on July 24th, 1976 at Holy Spirit Hospital in Camp Hill, PA, to Catherine and Anthony Bankes. My mother was raised by a strong Methodist household and my father was raised in a dysfunctional and down on their luck Catholic family. My mother's side of the family lived fairly comfortably in Wormleysburg, PA, while my father's side of the family lived in near poverty in Lower Paxton Township, PA, in a house that resembled a tenement. At the time I was born, my parents lived in Harrisburg, PA, near John Harris High School (now Harrisburg High School) in a two story apartment. Mom was employed by Dauphin Deposit Bank and dad worked for a roofing contractor, as well as part-time as a mechanic.


For years, I thought I was baptized as a baby into the Methodist church, but years later I found out from my mother that my parents never baptized me due to a small dispute over what faith I should be baptized in. My father wanted me baptized into the Catholic church and my mother wanted me baptized into the Methodist church. Because all of this happened when I was an infant, I obviously have no recollection of it, so it remained a mystery that I would not discover until 2007.


So, once my parents moved out of Harrisburg and into my grandmother's house in Wormleysburg, I was taken to church on Sundays to St. Paul's United Methodist Church on Front Street in Wormleysburg. My faith, or my first impressions of faith, were received in that old brick church. Those first impressions were not good ones. All I knew about church at that early age was that you could not have any fun there. My neighborhood friends went to that church too (other than the Church of God on 2nd. Street, St. Paul's was the only church in Wormleysburg, and it was the biggest), so I always wanted to play and horse around with them. Nope, not allowed. Just sit in Sunday School and learn about some guy named Jesus. Then, go upstairs and sit with your parents and listen to some guy talk about this Jesus guy, and stand up and sing the hokiest songs I ever heard. Even at that early age I decided that most church hymns were not my bag.

This book had some very lousy hymns in it. As a child, I hated seeing it.

Good night nurse, I hated church hymns with a passion throughout my youth and singing those flaccid lyrics as a child made me dislike church even more. The church building itself also lent to my dislike of going to church. It's walls were white on the inside, and the carpet was a deep dark red. The pews were hard and uncomfortable. The stained glass windows were simple, and it was a very plain sanctuary. It felt like a school or a prison and not a house of worship where all were welcome. The people who went to the church also did not help the cause. Everyone seemed so uptight and strict. One church member went ballistic when a few Sunday school students and myself rang the church bell just to see what it sounded like. All we wanted to do was play, and the people who went there looked like they never had a day of fun in their lives.


Then, there was this Jesus fellow. At around the age of 8 or 9 I started to question whether he was real or not. Even at that age I was questioning everything. How did Jesus do all of these amazing things? Why is he only documented in this book called "The Bible"? If he died, how did he come back from the dead? Why did so many people follow his teachings so blindly? If he was someone who believed in love, why did the church goers seem so joyless and strict? Why was the church against anything that us kids would call fun? This Jesus dude just seemed like a major sourpuss to me, and just reminded me of a rigid authoritarian who loved to whip his children into shape. Follow his teachings? Forget it. I'd rather watch MTV.


My parents were not avid churchgoers, but my Mom always held a staunch belief in God and hoped that her son would believe in him too. I never talked to my dad about faith, because the subject never came up when I was growing up. It was always sports and other things with dad and I. In fact, religion was one thing I never talked about as a child, because I literally had no interest in it. However, in a conversation I had with my mom at the age of 11 or 12, I recall telling her I did not believe in God because science could not prove his existence. After that, it was no more Sunday church services for me.


Yet, there was an influence in my life who never gave up in trying to get me to be a good Christian. It was my aunt Esther. She was probably the most devout Christian I had ever known, but a woman who seemed like she never had a day of fun in her life. When I stayed with her, it was prayers before every meal, even though I did not care. She insisted I go to Vacation Bible School classes during the summer, and at that age when an adult tells you to do something, you don't have a choice. She never married and I don't think she ever even dated. If there was a Methodist version of a nun, she was it.


However, even she did not succeed in getting me to tow the Methodist line. So, my family wisely gave up on faith formation with me. I was overjoyed. Besides, faith was for old people who had nothing better to do in my mind. I had too many other fun things to do, like ride my bike, play football and baseball, and watch TV. I did not need church, and I did not need this Jesus dude in my life.


Around the age of 13, I met a friend who swore like a sailor, but was a good dude, and I started hanging out with him a lot. We became like brothers. Me, coming from a background where my dad could swear a blue streak, made me want to talk like my dad. However, my mom forbade me from swearing.  So, I began cursing in conversations with my friends and I still do to this day, but I was really fond of saying "Jesus Christ" and "God Dammit". Now, when I would say those words around my friend, he would tell me not to say those phrases around him. That experience taught me not to say those particular curses at all, up to the point where even as an agnostic teenager I would tell people not to say those words around me. You could say that was the first time anyone "ministered" to me in a way I could understand, instead of telling me through some boring Bible story or a cheesy hymn.


I didn't really know anyone who was a strong, church going Christian in my age group. Most of the neighborhood kids were out causing trouble on Sunday mornings instead of darkening the doorstep of a church. It was a thing to me mocked, to be made fun of, because it was not fun and it was not cool. To me, I also think rebelling against church was a small way to be the rebellious and bad ass youth that I wanted to be but wasn't allowed to be.


Frankly, if all church was to offer was boredom and austerity, I did not want to be a part of it. While I had no open hostility towards Christians, I wondered how anyone could be so moronic and simple minded to believe in an invisible guy in the clouds watching over us. I felt bad for them. In my childhood, all things scientific were of interest to me, and there was no scientific proof of God, so he did not exist to me.


(Bear in mind, I am looking at past events with the gift of hindsight. Please do not be offended if you are a Christian at the strong language I use. That is me looking back at how I felt at that time.)

Don't be offended. This is how I felt at one time. I have to be honest.

Until I started attending community college, religion was not even a thought to me. It simply did not hold a place in my life. It was unnecessary, it was just window dressing. Other than a use of the word "God" in a news article I wrote for our school paper before graduation (and I have no idea why I used the word to begin with as I was not spiritual in the least. Maybe it just felt right for what I was writing as I was trying to write something poignant), spirituality did not mean a thing. It was an alien world to me.


In community college, more specifically Harrisburg Area Community College, I started to morph into the person everyone nowadays is familiar with. I started to grow my hair, became more interested in the heavier side of music, got my first leather jacket, started smoking, and became friends with the most interesting people I could find. I was able to start to be that person I always wanted to be. The bad ass. The rebel. I did fine in my studies for the first two semesters, but then I became more interested in socializing, so I was basically wasting my parents money.


However, in college, I would meet a few people who would introduce Christianity to me. A couple were solid examples, a few were not. A seed was planted though, yet it was a seed that would take a long time to be watered and an even longer time to bloom.


...To Be Continued

A typical work day...

"Woke up, fell out of bed
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
And looking up I noticed I was late
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Made my way upstairs and had a smoke
And somebody spoke and I went into a dream"
The Beatles-"A Day In The Life"


What is a typical day?


Lately, it has been a struggle for survival and a struggle to keep your head above the water while fighting the tide.


I challenge anyone who deals with this environment day after day to keep a positive attitude. You can't. Unless you are injecting yourself with serotonin infused heroin I doubt anyone would be able to keep smiling after the day is done here.


So, what I have decided to do is to take you through a typical "day in the life" of a "normal" weekday. Maybe then, you will understand why it is such a challenge to keep a sunny disposition. You will get the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.




La la la la la.

4:45 AM. I wake up. Why do I wake up so early? Well, my Dad was always an early riser due to his roofing job and I guess it rubbed of on me. I get up early on work days so I am not rushing around and have some time to relax in front of the television. I cannot rush around in the morning. It is too
stressful. I have to have that "buffer time".


6:15 AM. After showering and dressing, I go upstairs to say goodbye to my wife and daughter, and our dog. Both are still asleep usually. I leave at this time so I do not have to fight traffic going into Harrisburg. While I love where we live now, the biggest thing I miss about living on the East Shore
was the quick commute, and no bridges to cross. At times of high traffic volume, bridges become bottlenecks and waiting 'til 7:00 AM to leave for work usually means arriving late, despite having an hour to drive only 7 or 8 miles.


6:30-35 AM. I arrive in the parking lot at my building. I sit inside the car for a little while listening to the radio. I used to listen to my favorite albums, but after I had a few days of bad luck at work and arguments at home when I would let myself relax and enjoy music, I do not do that anymore, so
it is usually a local talk station. Due to superstitions and bad things happening, hell, I rarely listen to rock, metal, or prog music anymore at all other than when I am playing it in my band or practicing. I so want to let myself go and enjoy music again, but I keep thinking what if this will be a bad day, or something bad ends up happening? Lord, please help me find a way to enjoy what I love again.


6:40 AM: I walk into the building. It is also difficult to keep a smile on your face when you see the group of people who come to work here every day. It also doesn't help that we have armed security guards at our building. These same people see our faces every damn day and recognize us, but still ask to see our badges. It makes me feel like a criminal. Honestly, I know they have to do it and it is their job, but still, as someone who is a strong believer in common sense and logic, it still annoys me. So, thank you Al-Quaeda and ISIS.


6:45-8:00 AM. I nap at my desk while listening to a podcast, usually a talk show I am a fan of or a wrestling podcast.


8:00 AM. I pick up secure materials from a secure area. The fact that I am the guy chosen to do this gives me a sense of pride. It means they trust me. It is also the beginning of the day, officially. (NOTE: Forgive me for being vague in certain things. I am doing that to protect my duties and what we do here)


8:00 AM-9:45 AM. This is the time of day I am the most productive. It usually flows pretty well until...


9:39 AM. Surprise meeting with no warning. Usually it is to discuss something pointless, like a fundraising campaign. Yesterday it was some "employee recognition" malarkey. We were all given stainless steel travel coffee mugs to show appreciation for the "good job" we are doing. To me, it's just another version of the cheap gold watch. Want to show us appreciation? Hire more people. Streamline the process. Give us a raise. If you are going to have a meeting: schedule it, so we can plan our day around it and not have our work pattern interrupted. As the 1980's R & B hit by The System goes, don't disturb this groove.


10:30 AM. I am handed something from the executive offices that needs done ASAP. I'm working on something important for a customer that really needs me to come through on. I have to shelve my important task to work on something "more important" because it is a "priority". I don't think it is right that another area can hold so much power over another to the point that we have to take their words as gospel and do their bidding immediately no matter what. Bye bye groove, hello stress.


Noon. Lunch. I usually take a nap or write during that time.


1:00 PM. Someone from another area comes up with a task that needs to be done right away because a customer is waiting for it. Once again, it seems like someone is getting special treatment. The other person waits and hovers over me until I am done, even though hovering over me makes me nervous to no end and reminds me of my school days when someone would sneak behind me and hit me or start to beat me up. To this day, I still jump a foot when someone comes up behind me. Now, I am really on a short thread.


Throughout the day: Customer phone calls. Many of them come from people who do not know how to clearly read instructions. Some are from people who are waiting for something and it hasn't came yet. Some yell. Some scream. Some threaten your life. Precious few are understanding. Even precious fewer are thankful for your help. All of them are stressful, and some of them are outright scary and nightmare inducing. I have had nightmares where an irate customer tracks me down and murders me, no joke.




2:30 PM. Our supervisor comes up to us and tells us to stop what we are doing, because management has a task for us that needs to be completed by the end of the day at all costs. It almost seems like the fate of the world hangs in the balance. Usually it is a mistake another area made that we need to fix. Did anyone in the other department have to fix it? It is their mistake, after all! Once again, we shelve everything we do just to concentrate on one thing.


4:00 PM. Frazzled and stressed to the point of madness, I finish the aforementioned task. No thank you, no job well done, no raise for going above and beyond, no recommendations for promotions. I'm drained and hating everyone by this point. Thank God 4:30 is the end of the day.


4:30 PM. I get in my car to fight the army of other commuters on the way home. Once again, I don't play any music like I used to because I don't want to give myself bad luck and have something bad happen on the way home or at home. God, I wish I could just relax and enjoy music again.


By the end of the day at home, I am totally drained of all motivation and don't want to see anyone but my family. I usually have a screaming headache and my neck is usually in great pain. This job has made me very introverted and not wanting to deal with people, even though I love meeting new and cool people.


After dinner, a few hours of enjoyment with my family is all I get, including an hour of "me" time where I practice, play games, or spin a record, until it is time for bed and the whole routine starts all over again. It seems like we spend more time at our jobs than we do with our families. That is wrong.


Some may understand and sympathize, some may not. But now that you know what a typical day is like, maybe you will at least understand. I hope that you do. This job has pushed me to the point of almost contemplating suicide, but it beats sitting in an unemployment line. If you want to know what makes me a happy employee, here it is: give me a task to do and leave me to it. Don't bug me or bother me. Don't micromanage me. Our old supervisor made us work hard, but never micromanaged us. We were so well oiled as a machine we could run ourselves. Now, we are micromanaged to the hilt. I'm to the point I think I need a stronger anti-depressant. I also think I need music back in my daily life, but then stressors and bad luck need to stop whenever I try to enjoy myself for me to spin lots of music again. Music truly makes me happy, so I can't associate it with bad moments in my life.


I also pray once again for patience. I do not like being this person that I become when I walk through these doors. Outside of them, I try my best to be friendly, caring, compassionate, quietly strong, and charismatic. Inside them, I am moody, temperamental, snippy, quiet, and guarded. I know God wants me to be the best I can in all parts of my life. That is why I hope I can keep trying to make a change for the better.


I am tired of drowning here in this sea of overloaded work.

I miss pop music the way it used to be.

"Far beyond the rising sun I ride the winds of fate
Prepared to go where my heart belongs - back to past again"
Gamma Ray-"Back To the Past"


The last two days, while very positive, have also been dreary and cloudy and murky.


That also means that it has made me a little blue and a little wistful.


By "a little blue", I don't mean down about my situation or anything important. I mean that I miss the way things used to be, when everything used to be simpler and better. People who reminisce about the past these days are usually maligned by people who say "You just want to go back to a time where segregation was legal and blablablablabla". Shut up. Now. That's not me by a longshot. I was born in '76 and I watched so much news as a child and did so much reading I was socially aware before being a socially aware kid was cool. So, just stop. We're not talking about social issues or norms.


I'm talking about music.


What happened to all the legends? What happened to all of those who paved the way for the young hopefuls of today?


Most of them have either retired, passed on, or if they are a legendary band, are touring with no original members left.

I want this album. Don't laugh. Many happy memories I associate with this album.

Us fans who enjoy older forms of rock and pop music are staring to become less and less as well. I love to listen to songs from the late 1970s and early to mid 1980s, even if I don't particularly "like" the song or the artist. Why? Because they bring back happy memories. They remind me of evenings riding with my mother in the car and listening to the radio. (If anyone knows where I can find a copy of the K-Tel compilation Night Flight, please tell me. My mom and I used to listen to that tape all the time.) The music coming out of the speakers of our Chrysler Newport, Chevy Luv, or Pontiac Trans Am was like gold to me. It made me wish and dream about one day making it big. For someone who didn't have many friends either, it was also a means of escape.


The radio shows, the music videos...I loved them all.


At the risk of making people laugh and completely embarrassing myself...shit, I'm 41 years old, happily married, and have a family. I don't give a fuck whether you laugh or not. Anyway, when I was a kid, I would spend many Saturday nights in front of a big mirror in my bedroom, dressing up and pretending to be a pop star, and I would dance and lip-sync along with all of the songs I would hear. Once again, music was a means of escape.


I wonder if kids still do that, and if they even have artists that are worthy of emulating anymore?
Let's be honest with ourselves. Will Katy Perry be legendary in 25 years time? Will The Jonas Brothers be legendary? I think we can honestly say no. In 15 years, their music will be consigned to the discount rack of history along with other novelty acts of the past like the DiFranco family and the Osmond brothers. I can't see any artist today being one day mentioned in the same breath as the Beatles or Elvis.


Confession time: I am a fan of the Bee Gees.


That's right. I am a fan of the trio that became the faces of the disco era. Nowadays, people would probably consider the Bee Gees a manufactured phenomenon like the latest boy group or teen idol, and if you look back at the years 1978 and 1979, at first glance you would be right. Their music was everywhere and their faces were all over the place. You could not escape their reach, almost like Miley Cyrus in her Hanna Montana days. However, that was the only similarity. While most pop artists today are told what to play by their producers, the Bee Gees wrote and produced their own albums and actually played instruments. They also sang without the help of an auto tune machine. The Brothers Gibb became a phenomenon not because of marketing or hype, but because they actually penned and performed great songs with infectious melodies, grooves, harmonies, and hooks. Their success was totally on merit. In 25 years, "Stayin' Alive" will still be an iconic song but "Dark Horse" by Katy Perry with it's dental drill beginning and annoying vocals will be chucked into the dustbin of the past. Yes, Barry Gibb's falsetto is an acquired taste, but how many of us can actually do that? That takes talent.

Yep. I am a Bee Gees fan. This is a great album.

Last week, my daughter performed in a chorus concert at her school. The songlist was cuts by The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Elvis, Queen, Kansas, and Kiss. That is a testament to the staying power that timeless music has, that even today's children can get a thrill out of performing those songs. It brought a smile to my face and warmth to my heart to see those kids perform music that has stood the test of time. Will kids be singing songs from today's charts in 30 years? Doubt it.


Yet, at the same time, I do not like to see older bands touring long after they have jettisoned most of their original members. Now, if you still have one of the central lead vocalists or musicians (like Jeff Lynne with Electric Light Orchestra or Philip Bailey with Earth Wind and Fire), then it is still credible. Yet, in the case of the Little River Band, none of the original members or members from their heyday are with them anymore. To me, that is false advertising. So, if you go to an LRB concert with a copy of their smash hit album Dyamanthia Cocktail in hand, chances are if you get to meet the band, no one will sign it due to none of the current members being on the album. You are essentially seeing a cover band in that case.


So, buyer beware if you buy a ticket to a favorite band from the past, because you might not be getting the same band you grew up enjoying.


Now, I do enjoy a lot of newer bands and artists from the heavy metal and progressive rock genres. Yet, they are not known by anyone outside of the community. Ask a regular man about town who Haken is, I'll be you dollars to donuts they won't know who they are. So, I do not close my mind to newer music. However, when it comes to pop music, and I do enjoy lots of pop music from my younger years, I cannot be bothered to listen to new pop music. A few catch my ear, but I care not to hear the current airwaves. Nothing on the air inspires me like in my school days. It's all novelty tunes written for the lowest common denominator. Yes, the 70's had "Disco Duck" by DJ Rick Dees, and the 80's had a few novelty songs, but nowadays they are almost omnipresent. Who writes pop songs with a message anymore? It's all canned garbage.


So, if I want some classic hooks, I'll reach for a pop song I grew up with. When I hear those songs, I will start to wish I was back in those times once again, but at the age I am now and with my wife and daughter. The 1970s and the 1980s were an embarrassment of musical riches. I want to experience those times.


Now, excuse me while I go back to listening to an episode of Casey Kasem's American Top 40 from 1982.

Will there still be stars to reach for?

"Begin the day
With a friendly voice
A companion, unobtrusive
Plays that song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood
Off on your way
Hit the open road
There is magic at your fingers
For the spirit ever lingers
Undemanding contact
In your happy solitude"


Rush-"The Spirit of Radio"

Ahh...the smell of grooved black vinyl. The scratch of a needle on a record. The hiss of the tape recorder. The crackle of your favorite station coming up on the dial and having it tuned in just right. The frustration when your CD skips and you have to buy a new one.


This was all part of the musical listening experience when I was growing up. It was fun, it was communal, it was community. Friends borrowed other friends records, tapes, and CDs. They took them home and dubbed them onto Maxell cassettes or ripped them onto their computers. If you had a hot album that you wanted your friends to hear, you brought it over and played it on the huge stereo system, because your parents usually had a pretty bitchin' stereo in their living room.

Face it. The 70's had cooler stereos.

If you had to take a ride in the car, unless you had a tape deck or a CD player, you would listen to one of the many radio stations on your dial. There was a taste for everyone: rock stations, pop stations, country stations, adult contemporary, urban contemporary, oldies, classic rock, whatever you wanted was there waiting for you on the airwaves. Also, if it was the weekend, and you wanted to know who was burning up the charts, you listened to Casey Kasem or Rick Dees count them down for you all the way to Number 1.

The memories I have. The musical dreams I had were born on those lonely and lazy Saturday nights listening to the countdown on the radio. While dancing to Linda Ronstadt in my playpen planted the seed, it was people like Casey Kasem and Dick Clark who made me want to be a rock musician with their stories of how the artists worked hard on the way to the top. Those DJs were true pioneers in every sense with their home spun stories as well as spinning the hit parade.

Every week, Casey counted them down for you

Hell, I go as far to say that if you did not grow up hearing Casey Kasem or Dick Clark on the radio at least once, I weep for you. You were deprived of the joys of hearing their on-air talents bringing you the best music. Who knows how many young musicians and performers were inspired by Kasem saying "keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars"? Heaven knows it rubbed off on me a little bit.


We grew up with legends. All the current generation gets is Ryan Seacrest.


I believe in the days of hot airwaves and records and tapes, it was easier to be successful as a musician, but it was harder to get your material out there to the masses....I hear you all saying "what is he on about?" Follow me...


Yes, it might have been harder work, but success was easier to attain and the odds were more in your favor. Think about it. There was no digital recording back then. Wanted to record a home demo? 4-track mixer was all you could use, or a mic hooked up to your tape deck. You had to have a lot more money and a lot more patience to make a recording back then. So, your odds for success, if you could get to that level, were slightly better.


Now, while I love YouTube and internet radio for making a whole cornucopia of amazing music available to people all over the world with no frequency limitations, it does mean that your art, while it has a better chance of being heard and available, more easily gets lost in the shuffle and melts into the background. More exposure has unintentionally led to more anonymity. Releasing a recording might be a million times easier than in 1980 or even 1990 or 2000, but as you jockey for position among other hopefuls also releasing the fruits of their labor, the chances of success drop like a boulder from the skies. Yes, recording is and always will be hard and demanding work, but doing a session in a modern studio with modern software is a world easier than working with reel to reel tape. That's a give-in.


So, the odds of getting your music out is very much in your favor and that is awesome. As an artist myself I am eternally grateful for the opportunities it has given us. Yet, if you want to be a big rock star and drive around in a new Bentley and have a huge house, don't get your hopes up. Stardom is much harder to achieve in the modern day.

Don't count on chilling on a private jet like Led Zep, those days are gone.

So...then, less opportunity to be heard, but a slightly easier time to get noticed for at least 15 minutes of fame. Now, more opportunity to be heard and to record and to release your work to millions, but to achieve stardom is nigh on impossible.


In the 1970's (I confess I missed all this! I was born in '76), there were rock concerts on TV networks almost every week, and what a way for young artists to get their name out there! Be it Don Kirschner's Rock Concert, The Midnight Special, The King Biscuit Flower Hour, or The Old Grey Whistle Test, rock and roll bands were on the stage for you, coming through your TV screen, and many of them were young and hungry. Musical variety shows could be hokey, but you had top name talent and up and comers on the same stage every week on your TV screen.


What do we have now? American Idol? The Voice? That's good if you are a soloist, but if you are a band, you are shit out of luck.


What needs to be done to help the rock community get noticed by the mainstream again? I haven't a clue. All I know is something needs to be done to help not only the internet music community become more vibrant and more accessible to the people, but a revival is also needed on radio and television. We can't just leave those two mediums behind. We need a Midnight Special or an Old Grey Whistle Test for a new generation. We need a new Casey Kasem to help inspire us all to keep reaching for the stars. We need heroes to look up to, like what many of us had growing up. Frankly, I look on the charts nowadays and don't see many inspirational artists. Who finds Justin Bieber inspirational? Sure, there are talents and bright spots, but they are hidden among an assembly-line glut of pop artists. Us fans with discriminating tastes for more sophisticated and heavier forms of rock music are being pushed aside in favor of the flavor of the minute.


Thank God for the internet music community.


The internet music community is an absolute good. It is life for the artists who are struggling to get noticed when traditional mediums are ignoring them. It needs to become a powerful force like the airwaves and the TV used to be. We need a lot of new technology and a little bit of old-fashioned thinking. I could see an internet version of a show like Don Kirschner's Rock Concert being a wonderful thing, or internet TV shows in the vein of American Bandstand...it could be a wonderful thing that could expose new and hungry rockers to millions around the world.


One thing does not change though: We as musicians have to stick together. We need to be a brotherhood. We need to build up other artists around us and not hold them down. Our art form is dying. Gibson guitars filed for bankruptcy. Guitar Center might shut down. Clubs are closing. Do we rally and do all we can to reverse the trend, or do we fiddle like Nero as the art of music burns away around us?


I love music too damn much to let it die. We can't let it die. Let's fight to keep it alive, so future generations have stars to reach for. I want to see our children be able to have big dreams to make true like the big dreams I used to have listening to Casey's countdown. I want them to have the same starry-eyed wonder.

"And now, our long distance dedication..."

“You know, they do this to me all the time, I don’t know what the hell they do it for, but goddammit, if we can’t come out of a slow record, I don’t understand. Is Don on the phone? OK. I want a goddamn concerted effort to come out of a record that isn’t a fuckin’ up-tempo record every time I do a goddamn death dedication … I want somebody to use his fuckin’ brain to not come out of a goddamn record that is, uh, that’s up-tempo, and I gotta talk about a fuckin’ dog dying.”


-Casey Kasem


We all have the days when we lose it.


Something happens and it could either be a huge crisis or death by a thousand cuts, but the result is the same. The temper is lost and friends, family, and co-workers who had nothing to do with your issues are on the receiving end of a tirade of anger and profanity. I don't know why it happens, it just does.


Over the past few weeks I have had some moments at my job where I lose my head in front of my co-workers. I feel terrible about it, and it probably means a trip to the confessional for penance and absolution. I'm a Catholic. Guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders if you are Catholic hahaha.


A positive did come out of it, though. I got to have an off the books conversation with my boss and I unloaded my concerns about the direction the department is taking, and I now know he's got my back. So, much good did come out of it. No disciplinary action, either. The best thing to do for employees who are overburdened is to give them a chance to get frustrations off of their chest.


It was one of those days where I felt like Casey Kasem.

Casey Kasem in 1957.

Some of the younger readers of this page may not know who Casey Kasem is, but I am sure that any Gen X'er who grew up with Scooby Doo and Transformers will know, as will those of us who listened to that old fashioned invention of music radio. Kasem was the host of the radio countdown show American Top 40, and was also a voice actor in cartoons like Scooby Doo and Transformers. In Scooby Doo, he was the voice of Shaggy, and in Transformers he was best known as the voice of Cliffjumper. In the 1970's and 1980's, whether it was Saturday cartoons or American Top 40, the voice of Kasem was most likely a part of your weekend. Kasem retired from American Top 40 in 2009, being replaced by Ryan Seacrest, whom I have developed a dislike for due to him taking over all the spots vacated by childhood icons like Kasem and Dick Clark.


Casey Kasem passed away on June 15, 2014.


Now, I am always tardy to the party when it comes to viral videos. Hell, I'm tardy to the party when it comes to all internet phenomena. I'll see something new and go "what the fuck is this? Why is this a thing? Why is this funny?" However, other internet memes and viral videos are as plain as the nose on your face and it is easy to see why they became a phenomenon. One of them, is a compilation of outtakes of radio station identification bumpers being recorded by none other than the legendary Kasem.


The compilation has become legendary, and it was already well known in radio circles before it went viral on the internet. In the compilation, we hear the iconic voice of Shaggy and countless other voices from your morning cartoons going through the long process of recording station ID bits for the hundreds of radio affiliates of American Top 40. When we normally hear the voice of Kasem, we hear that gravelly yet soothing voice telling us "On with the countdown!" and "Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars". It seems so smooth and effortless, like the legendary DJ could do his show in his sleep. You could not imagine someone as professional and as skilled as him having trouble recording simple station IDs.


View video here...


Then you play this compilation for the first time (Note: the phrase "goddamn" will be read many times in this post. I do not approve of using this term and try to stay away from it, as well as encouraging my friends and family whom are Christians not to use it. In this case, I am quoting someone, so I have to use the term for the desired affect. Apologies to anyone I offend).


"The countdown will begin this morning at 9 on WMNS...goddamn, what a call letter..."


"...on Maine's most listened to radio station...I'm not going to say all that shit. How do I know they're the most listened to station?"


"stay tuned for American Top 40 immediately following the Trailblazer Game...hey what the fuck am I doing? Promos inside the fucking game?"


"...on Music Radio 138...OH FUCK!"


"...We got another hour to do? Thought we were almost finished. Good golly, Miss Molly. It's ponderous, man. Ponderous, fucking ponderous!"


"...Latrobe. It's getting set for Westmoreland County...what? What the fuck does that mean?"


"Hi, this is Casey Kasem. American Top 40 is moving to a new time. I hope you join me this Sunday morning and every Sunday morning at 2...TWO?!?"


"I want somebody to use his fuckin’ brain to not come out of a goddamn record that is, uh, that’s up-tempo, and I gotta talk about a fuckin’ dog dying.”


Not only is it a laugh riot to hear one of the all-time great disc jockeys and one of the all-time great voice actors stumbling through a recording session, it should also be an inspiration to you.


In fact, I don't think he is stumbling at all. He's showing his dedication and his passion for his job. He was one of the top disc jockeys in America, so you can bet he did not want to do anything half-assed. Whether you are a disc jockey recording promo spots, or a musician trying to nail a challenging part in a song, you are going to have moments of frustration. You want everything to be perfect. You don't want to spend 50 takes trying to get one thing right. You want it right the first time, every time.
It is an inspiration to hear that even people in the tops of their respective fields have moments where they are brought back down to Earth, where we can see that they are human after all. Even the best don't look like the best sometimes.


Back to my meltdown last week: I was informed that one of my co-workers was afraid to approach me because of my temper as of late. I did apologize to that person and everything is good. I was not in trouble for anything. I just had a boss who was concerned because he likes me as an employee and thinks I am a great guy and does not want to see me being frustrated. We're all down to the bone right now in our department. Frustration is expected to boil over, so we are all being given a wide berth. I am grateful for that. At the same time though, I will use it as a lesson to be better.


I also learned that I should not let it get me down. Even the legendary Casey Kasem had tough days, as that recording testifies. You will have tough days, too. We are all entitled to them. I hope if you listen to the recording I share, you will think "Even a legend has a tough day, so I should not feel bad about having one."


So now, in the words of Casey Kasem...on with the countdown!

There are days we want to be a kid again...

"You set sail across the sea
Of long past thoughts and memories.
Childhood's end, your fantasies
Merge with harsh realities.
And then as the sail is hoist,
You find your eyes are growing moist.
All the fears never voiced
Say you have to make your final choice."
Pink Floyd-"Childhood's End"




This morning, I nearly had a breakdown.


I felt my heart beat out of control and it felt like my body was starting to shut down on me. I was close to calling a doctor, but after a minute or two everything started to calm down and I felt better body-wise at least. The daily pressures that squeeze us all into mental oblivion.


Do not worry for me or about me. I am fine. It is just the reality of living with anxiety. When too much water fills the river of the overwhelmed, the levee will eventually break, that is just a fact of life for me. I do my best to live with it.


On days like this, I wish I was still a child.

Sledding in my old Harrisburg neighborhood of Taylor Park, circa 1980-81

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my wife and family and friends. I would not trade them for anything. Everything happens for a reason and that is why things are the way they are for us all.
But yes, some days I wish I was still a child, but there are a few caveats I would like to add to that.
I wish I was a child with the hindsight and wisdom that I have earned with age and learning. There are so many things I wish I could do over again, looking back.


I wish that I cared more about church as a child. Knowing who God was and why He has a plan for us would have done me a world of good at that young age. I wish I would have paid attention in Sunday School more. I wish I wasn't such a practical joker in Vacation Bible School. I only went because my Mom and Aunt made me. Paying more attention would have done a great service to me, and made me more prepared for situations as I got older. Whenever I drive by old St. Paul's United Methodist in Wormleysburg, I say "I regret I didn't have more respect for you as a child."




The former St. Paul's United Methodist Church, Wormleysburg, PA. My parents were married there.

I wish I had a chance to go back to school and thank all the teachers I had in elementary, middle, and high school that taught me anything that made a difference in my life. Most of them are all probably dead, moved away, or retired now. I had some wonderful teachers who loved and cared about me and truly wanted me to succeed, but as I got older in my school years I didn't appreciate it. I thought I knew better than them. To re-unite with old teachers would be a truly wonderful thing, and I would wonder if they remembered me.


I wish I could stand up to those who pushed me around. I wish I could look them all in the eye and tell them that you are not stronger than me and I will fight back. Not standing up to my tormentors is one of my biggest regrets. It gave me an inferiority complex I still nurse to this day. How different would life have been if I punched back, or shoved back, or just plain fought back? I would have been respected and/or feared. That gives a lot of street cred in the schoolyard.

The former Herman Avenue Elementary School, Lemoyne, PA

I wish I could go back to the rainy spring days of my childhood and appreciate them more. A few weeks back, I wrote my remembrances of my first day of first grade and all the good memories of then. A chance to run around in the rain and splash in the puddles like I just don't care. Now that I am older, I miss stuff like that a lot. It was fun, it was carefree, it was crazy. Try that nowadays and people would laugh at you and point. Stop being so childish, people say.


I wish I could go back and make better decisions when it came to bad things I did as a teenager. I was a thief. I wish I could confess that sin to my priest nowadays. I regret that so much, but I was influenced by an unhealthy friendship. I carry emotional scars deep inside of me from those days and that friendship.


I wish I took better care of some of the toys I had! Some of them would be worth some serious money now!


I wish I had a chance to go back and do a lot of things differently, so yes, being a child again would be great to have a chance to re-visit events that affect my life and the lives of those around me, because you have to put up with my nonsense and a lot of my axieties and issues today were caused directly by problems with my peers. Maybe I could come back the same man, but different in knowledge and wisdom that would help make a better person.

I am too big to have fun on the swings anymore :(

Not just for that, though!


Some childhood activities were just plain fun and it would be great to do them again without having to worry about pain and being too big. As a child, I could get tackled on the football field and get right back up. Now, I twist my neck and I am in agony!


It is a shame that childhood's end has to come.

Think before you libel...

"Why should we be blond and blue-eyed
Chanting a 'heil', living a lie
Evil surrounds us, we lost our way
Darkness will lead us through fire and hell
We're not waving the same flag
Or going down the same road
So use your brains, just for one time
You can't rule mankind"
Masterplan-"Crystal Night"


Nazi.


That word is used so much nowadays. On a few occasions, it is legitimate, especially when speaking about hate groups like the Aryan Brotherhood. Hatemongers like them deserve to have that label being tossed at them, because that is what they are. It's calling something what it is.


Yet, the term is also used for other purposes. In that case, it is libel and defamation of character. Why? Simple. It is a slur when it is used to describe anyone who is on the political right, just like Stalin or Mao is used on people on the political left. We could say they are painting with a broad brush, but in this case, the brush has been cast aside and a Wagner paint sprayer is being used.


Mandy Potemkin in the legendary film The Princess Bride says the following when Wallace Shawn keeps using the word "inconceivable": "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

Words to the wise from Mr. Potemkin

Lots of pundits and social media commentators keep using the word "Nazi". I do not think it means what they think it means. Like someone who uses the word "Hitler" in a debate, when I hear those terms being bandied about, I move on because to me that is a sign that they have lost the argument and have nothing intelligent to say. Same with communist, Stalin, or Mao. It doesn't take much effort to yank a name that you heard in history class and use it to describe someone who disagrees with you.

Let us look up the definition of the term "Nazi", shall we? Dictionary.com definition of Nazi: 1.a member of the National Socialist German Workers' Party, which controlled Germany from 1933 to 1945 under Adolf Hitler and advocated totalitarian government, territorial expansion, anti-Semitism, and Aryan supremacy, all these leading directly to World War II and the Holocaust. 2.(often lowercase) a person elsewhere who holds similar views. 3. (often lowercase) Sometimes Offensive. a person who is fanatically dedicated to or seeks to regulate a specified activity, practice, etc.:
a jazz nazi who disdains other forms of music; health nazis trying to ban junk food.


The dictionary also contains a usage note: Nazi in the extended sense of "a fanatical or domineering person" has existed at least since 1980 and parallels the use of the word police in the language police/the grammar police . Though this usage of Nazi is usually intended as jocular, it implies being intolerant of other people’s views and practices. And many people consider any extended use of the word Nazi to be offensive, in that it trivializes the terrible crimes of the German Nazis."


Count me as one of those people, especially after reading all I have read and researched over the past few months, and have learned about for years in school and after school in my own time. Comparing someone who disagrees with you to a person who was part of a regime that caused the deaths of 50 million plus people? A bit of a stretch, isn't it? Holding a different view doesn't make you akin to someone who supports or participated in mass murder or crimes against humanity.


Frankly, I'm getting tired of it being used to label people who are on the other side of your argument or the political aisle. If you want to use it to describe the lunatic fringe groups such as the Aryan Brotherhood who devote themselves to keep the racist policies of the NSDAP alive, then by all means do so. Just don't use it to describe your Republican friend. Chances are pretty close to certain that he/she doesn't preach about Jews in bars, have a mountain chalet called The Berghof, and a close associate named Rudolf Hess. Last time I checked, being a Republican (or a Democrat, or any other party in this country) is not a crime.


Just because you're offended, it doesn't mean you are right, and just because you are offended, it doesn't mean that the rest of the world gives a damn. The idea that "I'm offended, so I'm granted automatic, absolute, ideological superpowers to cancel out the beliefs of others" goes against the very reason the First Amendment was established: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances." I see no clause or fine print saying "unless someone is offended". Maybe it was written microscopically in the parchment by James Madison or someone. That right there is fodder for a future series on the History Channel.

Truth.

I have no issues with spirited disagreement, but I do have an issue with terms not being used properly. Calling your liberal/socialist friend Stalin is way out of line, unless your friend committed genocide against the Ukrainians or makes his family work on a collective farm. Calling your conservative friend Hitler or a Nazi is also way out line, unless of course they had a hand in the Holocaust and have nude pictures of Eva Braun on their walls. Honestly, I don't think any of us knows people who do either of those things. Be glad you know people with opposing viewpoints.


Before you use it, learn about it. Read about the Nazi party. Learn about the life of Adolf Hitler. Don't be afraid to do so either. I have a good feeling that many people who use the term "Nazi" don't even know the half of the atrocities they committed. The Holocaust is only scratching the surface, that is as plain as the nose on your face and well documented. Only a fool would deny the Holocaust happened. Do you know about other heinous acts committed by the Nazis? Have you ever heard of the Night of the Long Knives? The Night and Fog Decree? Kristallnacht? The Sudetenland? The Anschluss? If you do, very good. If you know more than just what you learned in history class, even better. If you don't, educate yourself. Know all about the crimes against humanity the Nazi Party committed. Learn every gristly detail. The more uncomfortable it is for you, the better.


Read about Joseph Stalin. Read about The Bolsheviks. Read about the Soviet Union and their crimes against humanity. Read about collective farms. Read about the Holodomir. Read about the gulags. Once again, learn every detail no matter how unpleasant it is.


After that, maybe you will think twice about calling your friend such a strong insult just because they are a Republican or a Democrat. Thank the Lord that you live in a country that is NOT Nazi Germany or Soviet Russia. I'd rather live in a nation where freedom of thought and opinion is tolerated and encouraged, and not a capital offense.




A personal note: I know I write about this issue so much like it is almost a personal crusade, and that is because it is. I am guilty of this behavior. I used to call people with a liberal point of view things like communists and worse. I feel horrible about it and I feel guilty because of it. I wish I could take back all of the things I said a few years ago. Sure, I never used any epithets or slurs, but to call someone a communist or a Nazi is to trivialize the crimes of said ideologies and to libel a friend or an acquaintance who doesn't deserve it. An insult that strong is not to be used on someone who is a good, honest, upstanding person just because they believe differently than you. As a penance for my regret, I feel I must speak on this until it comes to a dead stop. I have seen too many friendships ruined and families torn apart because of this. If you are my friend, I care not your ideology. I care about YOU. I like YOU. I love YOU. If you are a part of my life you have made an important impression on me that I refuse to throw away. If I ever had a harsh disagreement with anyone over anything, I am truly sorry. I feel I have to keep writing about this issue until the winds of discourse become more calming.

Name-callers on both sides of the aisle, I am calling you out. This ends now.

Psalm for the frustrated

"You see the world through your cynical eyes
You're a troubled young man I can tell
You've got it all in the palm of your hand
But your hand's wet with sweat and your head needs a rest
And you're fooling yourself if you don't believe it
You're kidding yourself if you don't believe it
Why must you be such an angry young man
When your future looks quite bright to me
How can there be such a sinister plan
That could hide such a lamb, such a caring young man"


Styx-"Fooling Yourself (The Angry Young Man)"


Yesterday, I vented some frustrations. Today, I decided to take those frustrations and turn them into a prayer. Call it a "psalm for the frustrated". True story: Five minutes after I finished this prayer, I once again lost my patience. Fortunately, I apologized to the person I lost my patience with and explained calmly what I was feeling. Thankfully, they understood and shared my frustration. Still, it shows the challenges in keeping your patience in this environment. It's not for the faint-hearted.


Maybe if you are having a rough day, this prayer can be for you too. Read on...

Amen. When I pray for patience, that is what I want!

In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.


Dear Lord, Please help me calm my anger at my situation. I need you now, more than ever.


Why do you continue to make things hard for me here? Why do you continue to put barriers and challenges in my way?


What is your deal? What are you trying to say to me? Do you want me to serve you and do the best for you or not?


Each day in this office as of late is like running a gauntlet. The minute you accomplish two things, 10 more tasks are handed to you.


I am at the mercy of people who know not what they are doing, yet they tell me what to do. Those in charge are supposed to know more than you, right? When the leader knows not what he does, how can they lead?


We get new management in, and they become acclimated, but then they interview for another position and they leave. We are then handed over to another management team who knows even less than the people before. Our office has become a weigh station for management and not a place anyone wants to stay at and help make better. What would your Church be like, Lord, if a Pope died or resigned, and a new one took his place, but decided to quit, and it kept happening? The Church would fall into error and chaos would grip your faithful. At this job, we have no firm leadership and we are spiraling out of control.


The more this happens, the more my work ethic spins down the tubes. I start to care more about working to the rule instead of going out of my way to do as much as I can. Lord, it is so hard to stay motivated and keep my morale up.


Merciful Jesus, I have tried so hard to enter each day with a grin on my face. For a while, I kept it up. I can't hold onto it anymore. I'd be lying to myself and to you, my Lord.


I know it means I am failing you as a disciple. I know it means I am not setting the best example of one of your servants. I am angry here every day. I talk back and I lash out. I refuse to be pushed around so I push back. If someone higher than me asks me how I do something, I say "You tell me. You are the one in charge. You should know these things." I know it is wrong, and I know it is not showing humility. Yet, I keep doing it anyway. I am ashamed and sorry, my Lord. By not being a humble servant I have sinned against you.


Today, once again, I am praying for patience and calm, and a clear head so I can serve you the best I can even when I am here, and I really am not in the mood to be the best me I can be for you. For once, please give it to me. Please.


Merciful Jesus, please protect me and cover me with your precious blood. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for me to your son that I can change things here and start to be a beacon instead of a black hole.


I thank you, O Lord, for opening my heart and removing the scales from my eyes, and using servants you have on Earth to convince me of the errors of my ways. I am trying hard to make up for lost time and make it right. I am yours, use me for what you want. Use me to be an example of what not to do. Embarrass me. Shame me. Do not let up on me until you know I am on the right track, and even then, please keep up the pressure and motivation.


Lord, I want my energy back that gets sapped from me every day I am here. I am tired of being a doormat for people in this office. I know you understand anger, Lord. You drove the money changers out of the temple in a rage. Even you have gotten angry. You must understand why I am angry.


I know well that Satan is trying to take hold of my reigns once again and turn me away from you, Lord. Give me the strength to persevere, and I am closer to you that I have been for awhile now, and I want to start living my life according to your letter and spirit. It is very difficult when you are fighting a war like this, with no allies and no friends. I have no one to reach out to, no one to turn to. It's just me and you Lord. Please guide me.


Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the malice and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.


In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.