Born in Rochester, NY during the Depression Era, I was unaware of any lack of creature comforts. I had no standard for comparison. There were no "Rich and Famous", "Do you want to be a Millionaire" programs on the ether waves. But we did have radio. The advantage in listening to this subjective medium, I believe, fostered my imaginative thought processes. We carved our own guns, swords, emulating the idols we heard over the air. "You're dead. I shot you!" "No, you didn't. I got you first!" Who knew? To this day it remains a moot point. No laser detectors, or paint balls. It's funny how I'm able to recall trivial gems in growing up when I have such a hard time remembering the names of people at church. Let's not even go into remembering lines in my scripts.

     Growing up at Our Lady of Perpetual Help School were golden years. For my choice of discretionary behavioral patterns and deportment in general, I paid dearly under the watchful Gestapo eyes of the nuns. Seriously, they were wonderful, devoted women. Upon graduation from grammar school, my early religious training couldn't sustain me after my hormones kicked in. The only thing I got out of high school was athletes foot. My own fault, really, my walk being what it was. The world looked just too good, even when I couldn't focus them properly while imbibing. No longer forced to live under the Law, it wasn't until much later in life that I found the real reason for its existence, the real reason why we are here, the true source of our salvation, the sacrifice for my sins upon the cross. 

     My current goal is to serve the Lord, utilizing whatever gifts He has bestowed upon me, at the same time acknowledging that these works are but the manifestation of His presence indwelling, nothing worth commenting on or to be boastful thereof. The first thing the Jewish carpenter asked me to build as a journeyman was to construct a cross and nail my flesh onto same. Ouch! 

     At my age they tell me I'm supposed to have some advice to offer. One thing I do know: be careful as you grow older that you don't develop the mossy-butt syndrome (lot of it going around) by merely sitting in your own pew every Sunday. The Good Lord will let you know when He's through with you, ready to receive you to take you home. In the meantime - occupy!

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