FOR UNTO US A CHILD IS BORN!

For unto us a child is born! It's Christmastime. War-weary, battered by partisan politics, struggling with a sluggish economy, stressed out, burnt out, worn out, and on edge, and now we've got winter coming and holiday shopping to contend with. Ice and snow and crowded malls, keeping up with the Jones', and adding to our collective debt.

For unto us a child is born! Christmas really is about something more than debt and presents and stress. He really did come to save us all, to make us right with our Creator, to blot out our sin. The gifts of the wise men pale in comparison to the gift He gave us, a gift so many of us still refuse to accept. Priceless and precious, there for the taking.

For unto us a child is born! Maybe this year I can break away from Madison Avenue's call. Maybe I can slow down, catch my breath, and not be cheated out of what the season is truly a celebration of. Maybe this year, I can relax and revel in the glory of my Saviour, the Christ child, come to save us all. Thank-you Jesus. I'm nothing without you. Happy birthday. Thanks for the gift!

With that, I'll leave you with the first six verses of Chapter 2 of the Book of Luke. It's well worth reading:

¹In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. ²(This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.)³And everyone went to his own town to register.

⁴So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. ⁵He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. ⁶While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, ⁷and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

DIVIDED WE FALL

You know the old American mantra, "united we stand, divided we fall"? Hey, people are people. All the way back to our founders, we didn't see eye to eye on every problem or every solution. We're a nation of individuals. We're not supposed to line up like lemmings and think alike. Doesn't mean we, like our Founding Fathers, can't sit down, talk it out and try to work together for the greater good.

I wish I was watching the debate on Health Care Reform with amusement, instead of dismay. It's like every other major issue our society faces today. We divide up along partisan lines, check our brains at the door, start cheering for our side and booing the other side like it was some meaningless sports event, demonize the opposition, and drag the whole country (and ourselves along with it) a little further into the gutter.

Watching and listening to what I've always considered to be normal, intelligent human beings on this issue I've come to realize that, merely by association, as a person of conservative leanings, I'm apparently a wealthy, racist, sexist, evil Nazi who would gladly jeopardize even the health of my own children for another dollar or two. I'm apparently completely devoid of compassion, empathy, intelligence and, for all intents and purposes, humanity. It's as if we on the right actually created all the problems our society faces intentionally, as part of some evil plot to destroy the world. Amazing particularly since, like all my conservative peers, I am also a stupid, uneducated buffoon incapable of thought.

Then again, I suppose all the liberal leaning people I know are communist, God-hating, arrogant elitists out to destroy God and Country, usurp the constitution, eliminate individuality and personal accountability and, by any means necessary, enforce their utopian vision over the will of the people. I'm sure my friends on the left can articulate the false taunts they hear better than can I, but I know they get it, too.

Lost in all of the hyperbole is the fact that, despite our disagreements, we all want to make things better across the board and find real solutions to some daunting issues. I know where my heart is and, unpopular as it is to think this way, I suspect my friends on the left aren't that different. They've just come to different conclusions than I have.

Is that going to be an easy hurdle to clear? Absolutely not. I've put a lot of thought into this. I'm a student of history. I'm a huge champion of our Founding Fathers and the Constitution that they crafted, and I do believe that limits on government are a good thing and that government isn't going to solve many problems. I get that we disagree on this and it's going to take a lot of work to get us closer. But we're not even doing the work.

We might as well literally paint our faces in red or blue, strip off our shirts and write giant letters onto our collective chests spelling out the names of the political philosophies we subscribe too, load up on overpriced beer, pack into opposite sides of some giant stadium and jeer each other, because we've already been doing it figuritely for years.

Sports fans don't go at it to resolve conflicts and come together. The battle is the whole point. They vicariously attach themselves to one side or the other just for the fight. It's okay. The fight doesn't really matter. It's just sports. Who really cares who wins the Super Bowl? But the real issues our society faces are a different matter entirely. So why are we dealing with them like we deal with the Bowl Championship Series?

It's easy, I suppose. Makes it a lot easier not to give these heavy issues any real thought. Just paint on the team colors and toe the party line. Nobody thinks, nobody solves anything, and we always get the status quo. A little name calling, some demonizing, play the blame game, and life goes on.

I'm so sick of false premises, political spin, one-sided rushes to judgment, generalizations, watching strawmen get beaten to death and being demonized by people who don't even know me. I suppose I'm not the only one. And I suppose it's not just on my side of the political aisle.

Do we want to fix this thing or not? Does anyone on the left want to know why I don't support the current administration's plans for health care reform (and yes, like every single individual I've heard address it, I think our current health care system is a mess - despite being told Republicans say it's fine as it is). Anybody over there care why I distrust politicians and the government, and would argue that it's prudent and patriotic to do so. How about my side of the aisle? Do we ever wonder why the left trust government to fix these things? What's the rationale behind the philosophy. I'm sure there is one, regardless of whether or not I come to see eye to eye with you.

This isn't a game. I'm not playing. I've got a wife and kids, and I'm probably going to have grandchildren and great-grand children and so on. I passionately care about this, and alot of similarly important issues. I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt that you do, too. We might disagree on the solutions, but I suspect we share a lot of the same concerns. So do you care what I think? Or do you just want to call me names?

FLOORED BY MY OWN SON!

My oldest son, David, loves baseball. He's good at it. Really good at it. Lightning fast - he didn't get his speed from me and, if he did, he didn't leave any behind. With an amazingly quick swing, he's a consummate lead-off hitter. That same speed and naturally good instincts serve him well as he patrols centerfield. He's a pleasure to watch on the diamond, and he loves the sport so much he gave up all other sports (he's a heckuva wide receiver/cornerback, too) to focus on his diamond skills.


My son David is also, much to my pride, delight and joy, a committed Christian. As a believer myself, my most pressing desire is to see all my children come into the Kingdom. Mid-way through his high school career, David has come to the conclusion that he's being called into the ministry. And he'll be good at it.

But here's where those two loves collided in a weird way, in a way that makes me all the more proud of this kid. Last August, after finishing off a spectacular first year on the J.V. team at his high school, and nearing the end of the American Legion and Teener seasons, David's left shoulder (he's a lefty) began to ache - badly. He figured it was just sore from playing on three baseball teams and figured he'd play through it. Didn't complain. Went at it. Then, with those three seasons complete, he was selected to play on a Fall American Legion team, a hand-picked group of players. With their first game approaching, the pain became too much for him. He 'fesseed up, we shut him down, and a medical excursion that hasn't fully ended began in ernest.

Neurologists, Orthopedic Specialist, our family pediatrician, local doctors, doctors from the University of Pennsylvania, everybody saws him and everybody had an opinion. Meanwhile, the syndrome had moved beyond mere chronic pain. David literally could not lift his left arm above his shoulder. When he tried, his shoulder blade flared out, backwards from the natural movement you'd expect. Nerve damage, herniated discs, rotater cuff problems, you name it, we had a doctor that diagnosed it. Finally a spinal specialist at Penn figured out the limited range of motion was a product of the body, compensating for pain, retraining itself to do the wrong thing. David was able to overcome that, regain full use of his arm, and even go back and play JV Baseball gain this year. He even signed up for the Summer American Legion team, and made the cut, but the pain started in on him again. We shut him down.

David was frustrated and angry. This is a kid who dreamed of going to college on a baseball scholarship, and a kid who some baseball minds thought, if he continued to develop, had a chance at doing just that. A kid who played baseball year round, hung out with baseball players, just loved the sport. A kid who would freak out if we skipped our annual pilgrammage to Williamsport to see the Little League World Series. And he was growing increasingly concerned that he would never play again. That concern continues. And David was angry with himself, his condition, and with God.

But here we are almost a year after this strange dilema began, and David's done a lot of thinking. I know he takes his faith seriously. I know he takes his calling seriously. And the kid has hit me with enough wisdom and maturity over the years that I should never be suprised by it. But he still can blow me away. And he has.

David just returned from a two-week mission trip with the youth from our church. He spent a week in Birmingham, Alabama building houses with Habitat for Humanity, and another week at a Christian youth camp in Panama City, Florida. He came back with a strong sense of accomplishment, and speaks of how much it meant to finish the house, and to meet and work with the family that will be living there. That's typical David. But what isn't so typical is what he told me, and told me ernestly. David informed his mother and me that he's past thinking he might not play baseball again. He doesn't think he's going to be able to. (I hold out hope that he's wrong about this, and we continue to encourage him). But he went on to say that he's okay with that. In fact, he tells us he's thankful for the injury. He credits the entire ordeal with bringing him closer to God, and in no uncertain terms let us know that that is what really matters.

My jaw is still on the floor. I grew up in a Christian family, not a go through the motions, attend church on Sunday and forget about it until next Sunday Christian family, but a real-live, no-jive praying, Bible reading, walk the walk and talk the talk Christian family. But at fifteen I was as spiritually shallow as they come. There must have been a thousand things more pressing, more important to me, than my walk with God. But this kid of mine...man!

Hey, look. I'm not saying my son isn't going to make mistakes. I know he'll have bad decisions to contend with. He'll stumble. He'll fall. Afterall, that's the point of Christianity, right? We're saved by grace, not by anything we do. The fact that it's not about how good we are is one of the unique things that seperate Jesus's gift from all the world religions out there. He does the dirty work, we undeservedly reap the benefits. The change in our lives is a result of our salvation, not the cause of it. So I hope you won't sit around and wait for my son to do something wrong. He will. So will I. So will everyone. That's why we needed a Saviour in the first place, our own futility. But the fact that my kid can look at this dilema in his life at this young age the way he's looking at it...how can I be anything but blown away?

What Are You Packing On Your Next Fishing Expedition?

One fine spring day Jeff takes his two young sons, Billy and Timmy, fishing. It's trout season, a nice warm day, so they pack a lunch, a couple rod & reels, some power bait, bobbers, hooks, the whole nine yards, and spend a fine day on the lake. As a bonus, they bring home a cooler full of fresh rainbow trout.

It was a memorable day in both boys childhoods, and they'll both remember it as the day dad taught them to fish. Not an uncommon story. I'm sure something like that has happened to all of us. But the story doesn't end there.

Years later, the two decide to take another fishing excursion. They're grown men now. Dad's long gone. Billy goes about planning, using everythnig he learned from dad. Timmy, independently of Billy, does the same. The two plan to meet on the docks of the charter boat on the following Saturday morning.

In the meantime, Billy uses his dad's lessons. He checks the weather conditions, the tide report, even goes on line to see what the charter boats are bringing in. He invests in some new equipment, the heavy duty rods and gear he'll need to bring in blue marlin, which are biting. Spends a lot of time talking to the old salts about what bait to use, the best techniques - he watched his father to plan and prepare thoroughly for their trout fishing expedition years before and knows to leave as little to chance as possible, and to bring the right equipment for the right job.

That long-awaited Saturday arrives and Billy's first to the docks, anxiously waiting for his brother Timmy to arrive. He spends his time checking his gear, and talking to the local fisherman for last minute tips and advice. Finally, Timmy pulls up with a big smile on his face and everything he needs for the excursion, too. Afterall, his dad taught him how to fish. Which is why he's got that same rod & reel that worked so well on the lake all those years earlier, a few jars of powerbait, some hooks and bobbers, and he even packed a lunch.

It occurs to me that most of us think we're learning how to do things, but we're only learning how to imitade a system. Regardless of the circumstances, regardless of the weapons and resources at our disposal, we just try to do the same thing the same way over and over again. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't , but that's our expertise. We plug in the system we learned and see what happens. Only a few of us get the big picture - and learn to step back, analyze the situation, and see why what we did worked in the first place, which is where we get the real expertise to figure out how to succeed in any situation, or at least improve our chances.

So what are you packing on your next fishing expedition?

(I'm no fisherman and wouldn't be surprised if the terminology and techniques I described in this blog are way off base. But then again, it's not really about fishing, is it?)

GETTING MISTY AND SENTIMENTAL FOR A GAME OF BALL

I love baseball. Don't get me wrong, like alot of people I'm way too into a number of sports, but there's something different about baseball. I'm not just into the games - I'm enamored with the history, with the sights and sounds and smells, with the ballparks and uniforms and legends. It's on a totally different plain for me than the NFL or March Madness or the Olympic Games.

Funny thing is, when I was younger, I didn't like baseball at all. 'Thought it was too slow, too old-fashioned, and boring. I guess that's before I realized that 80% of the game is going on inside the players and managers heads. You start to play along and you can hardly believe all that's going on at the same time!

Of course, big time baseball has let me down. The player strikes, free agency, multi-million-dollar utility players, steroids - they've taken their toll. Not to mention the clueless marketing moves of Bud Selig, the owner turned "non-partisan" commisioner. Then, when he finally succeeded in getting TBS to drop Braves coverage, I almost dropped out. 'Still watch an inning or two here or there. I'm sure I'll tune in for the Sunday Night Opener this year. But the Major Leagues to me are like an old love that I occasionally find myself flirting with but, for the most part, don't really care about.


Then my kids got a little older and I discovered baseball in it's perfect form. Little League! Kids playing for the love of the game. Talented kids - kids who turn plays, throw nasty pitches, hit a ball a country mile, and want to win - bad! But kids - no contracts, no free agents, no millionaires, no steroids. Yeah, there's always a parent here or a coach there who wants to wreck it with their unfulfilled dreams of their own frustrated youth - but nothing's perfect. Little League Baseball is close!

It's everything I was missing in the game - the smell of fresh cut grass, the crack of the bat, a dugout full of passionate players chatting it up, celebrations after wins, tears after losing - real baseball, with heart and soul. I don't care whether you've got kids or not. If you want a treat, find a Little League park somewhere this summer, buy a hot dog and a coke from the concession stand, and take in a game. You'll finally remember why this game used to be our National pasttime!

CHASING FIRE ENGINES WITH RUBE WADDELL

I'm an avid fan of baseball, and as much as I love the strategy of the game, I'm even more enamored with it's rich history of glorious achievements and colorful characters. One of my favorite characters from baseball lore is the legendary turn-of-the-century (Okay, turn-of-last-century) pitcher, Rube Waddell.

Rube pitched for Louisville, Chicago and Philadelphia in the Senior Circuit, and moved to the American League when it began, pitching for their Philadelphia franchise, as well as the old St. Louis Browns. In 13 major league seasons he won 193 games, and finished with a career ERA of 2.16.

Rube was, to say the least, eccentric. In fact, many historians now believed he was mentally handicapped. Great stuff on the mound, a welcome presence in any team's rotation, but he also took quirky to a whole new level. The ballparks in his day were build within the confines of crowded city streets, and when the horse-drawn fire departments happened to race by the ballpark, Rube's teammates knew they had to pour out of the dugout and literally tackle their fine hurler, or he'd bolt from the mound, tear out of the park, and chase the fire department through the city streets. Who knows what Rube would've done had he caught them? Opposing teams soon figured out they could break the pitcher's concentration and distract him on a nice sunny day just by catching the sun rays with their watch, and flashing the reflection his way. He would literally stop pitching and freeze, staring into their dugouts at the strange and perplexing light.

Obviously, all the high jinx weren't enough to stop him from having a fine career. In fact, the Veterans Committee saw fit to put him into the Baseball Hall Of Fame back in 1946. How could you not love a guy like this?

It's silly, of course, for a a grown man being distracted by the glint of sunshine off of someone else's watch is, or the idea of that same man abandoning his post every time he heard the clanging bells of a 1900's fire wagon roaring by. No doubt, the historians are on to something, and all was not right with our illustrious hero.


It's a refreshing story though, in times like these. The economy, partisan bickering, the haves and the have nots, we're stressed to the max and at each other's throats. Our 401-K's disappearing before our eyes and people see themselves ruined overnight, while the media pursues pop singers and Hollywood actors like they were Churchill and Roosevelt during WWII, and we hang on every word that drips out of their mouths.

Business people sell out their partners for a bigger share of the pie, husbands leave wives (and wives leave husbands) to deal with mid-life crisises, teenage girls get knocked up "proving their love" to dimwitted boys who wouldn't know what love was if it slapped them silly. We exhaust ourselves and add to our fame pursuing financial wealth, political power, fame, expensive toys, sexual conquests, socail status, designer wardrobes and countless other things that have one thing in common - they'll all end up on the garbage heap one day. Temporary, worthless things - things that will never live up to the promise they make, the promise to somehow fulfill us.

This isn't what it's all about. 'Can't be. This isn't the American Dream (in fact, it's the stuff most of our founding fathers risked and often lost to pursue the real American Dream - but that's another story). This is an illusion, a distraction, a lie. There's got to be more to life than chasing this stuff down. Hey, I'm not pessimistic. I don't think life is pointless. I relish it. I just think it's easy to get off track and chase stuff that doesn't last - that doesn't matter. I think we need to put more thought into the logical conclusion of the things we pursue, the things we do with our lives. Otherwise, we might discover that Rube Waddell wasn't so bizarre at all. Maybe he is us and we are him - pointlessly chasing fire engines down the street and staring off into a beam of sunshine!

OPPORTUNITIES IN THE STORM

Growing up on the coast of North Carolina I heard all kinds of stories about shipwrecks of old, and why not? The coast of my home state is universally known as "the Graveyard of the Atlantic" due to the inordinate number of ships that have gone to their watery grave there - from lost colonial explorers, 18th century pirate attack victims, hurricane casualties and even World War II era U-Boat casualties. Yes, the reasons for the wrecks are various, but the most common culprit has always been the weather. The three capes of North Carolina that jut out and produce south-facing beaches just lie in wait for coastal hurricanes, the warm water of the Gulf Stream collides with the frigid Labrador Currents coming down from Canada off our coast, creating unstable jetties, sand bars and channels that shift and change overnight, making nautical charts obsolete before they go to print, and the massive size of the planet's second largest body of water has a meteorological impact all it's own. But here's the thing - no sane sailor has ever set sail for the storms. They just find themselves in them. It's what you do when it happens to you that matters. It's not a situation you relish, but throwing your hands up in the air guarantees a death sentence. You're left with no choice but to navigate through the storm.

The storm clouds have been brewing around our global economy for some time. Now the crashing waves and thick black sky is upon us. Our first, terrified instinct is to throw our hands in the air, look for someone to blame, and cry woe is me. Which is, of course, a death sentence. If you've got a job, you've got to protect it. If you don't have a job, you've got to get one. If your finances aren't in order, better late than never. I'm no financial expert, and I certainly don't find myself in the midst of this storm anywhere close to being as prepared as I'd like. That's not the point. The storm's here. Let's navigate through it.

This isn't a financial advice blog - if you're taking financial advice from me you've got bigger problems than any blog's going to address. This isn't a pro-business, or pro-government, or even-pro little guy spiel. The situation upon us is difficult, scary and dangerous, and it's not to be taken lightly. I guess this is about perspective. The storm's here, period. So what do we do now?

Be realistic. Your job is going to change. You're going to be taking on new responsibilities, new challenges - truth be told, new opportunities. Yes, opportunities. It's all in how you react to whatever gets thrown your way by the wind and the sea - regardless of how fair it is. In fact, it's not going to be fair. Count on that.


You can gripe about, or seize the day. It doesn't matter to the storm clouds. Remember that, in the midst of the storm, the unexpected is the one thing you should expect. Take nothing for granted. You can't afford to let your guard down. You also can't afford distractions - it's not time to wander down to the galley to see what there is to eat. This is about survival. And when you come out the other side of the clouds, if you've successfully navigated, you'll be a wiser, more prepared, more skilled sailor than when the storm came upon you. You've weathered the storm, learned the lessons it had to teach, and survived to be a better, stronger, wiser you. Opportunities, indeed.

HOW ABOUT A NICE, HEAPING BOWL OF LOGO SOUP?

How often have you had some entity - charities are particular good for this - call you up, try to get you involved in some event, and offer as some great value to include your logo in the print ads, the t-shirt, the poster, whatever? It happens all the time, and most of us jump at the offer. Especially when it's an established, well-attended event? "You know how many people are going to see our logo? That's great branding!"

I believe there are two issues with being an ingredient in this logo soup. First, people seeing your logo IS NOT BRANDING! Branding is when you manage to associate your name with a word, an attribute, in people's minds. I say hamburgers, you say Mcdonalds; I say soda, you sayCoke; I say toothpaste, you say Crest; I say beer, you say Budweiser - that's branding! (and you have to ask the question that way - it's the first thing that comes to mind when you mention the service or attribute, not what service or attribute you associate with the business name. I could whip out most any fast food joint and you'd associate them with hamburgers, but when you just say hamburgers, it's amazing how many people's instintive response is "McDonalds".

The other issue is, even if being part of the soup was branding (and it isn't!), how valuable is it. When your logo is spotlighted it may stand out. Many who look will actually see it. But the last time you had a piping hot bowl of seafood gumbo, did you notice all the ingredients - every single one? Or did you just see the soup as a single entity, noticing a couple of key ingredients (hard to miss the jumbo shrimp, right?) but instinctively letting the bulk of the "stuff" blur into one?

So the next time someone pitches including you in the print ad, the t-shirt, the poster for their big event and you excitedly state to your peers "You know how many people are going to see our logo?" the answer well may be darn near zero, and, futhermore, so what if they do?

NERO FIDDLES WHILE DIALOUGUE BURNS

So Obama's in, and full control has been handed to the Democrats. Regardless of what you think of this most recent election and how it turned out, there may be a greater issue out there we're not dealing with. I've never seen so many strawmen set up and beaten down, so many false arguments and hypothesis, so much spin and re-positioning. The networks, the newspapers, the web and conversations in the hallway over the water cooler - there's no more dialogue between the right and the left, the religious and the secular, ownership and employees, or any other groups. No, we would all rather set'em up and knock'em down. Let me tell you my position, and the position of my rivals - who needs them? Then you can clearly see that I'm in the right, right? If you go and actually drag the other guy into the conversation it's possible my arguments won't win the day, and we can't have any of that. On the campuses of academic institutions founded by our forefathers, unpopular speakers are shouted down. The thinnest examples of hand-picked evidence are presented as proof of this or that position on cable news networks every night of the week. And any other cable network, or host, who disagrees, is clearly in bed with the other side. See, they're partisan, but I'm not. Sad, what's become of free speech, open-minded debate, and lively dialouge. It seems to be the unnoticed corpse lying in the gutter of our time.

AT LEAST I KNOW WHAT I DON'T KNOW

I should probably be in bed and instead I'm sitting here in front of the laptop, with no clue what's going to come out of my head. Lately it seems the weekends are busier than the workweek - running kids around, odds and ends and errands, traveling out of town for various family things. What happened to rest and relaxation? I'm running a taxi service for a fifteen-year-old who doesn't tip well. (Who am I kidding, he doesn't tip at all) Meanwhile the kids get along like they were raised by wolves, giving my wife and I pause to question our parental competence. Maybe we don't know what we're doing. Maybe I'm off in never, never land, refusing to grow up.

In the meantime, we're re-doing the bathroom. By re-doing I mean paying someone to re-do the bathroom. Yeah, I'm aware of the whole do-it-yourself home repair movement and I've tried it. Really I have. And I've learned alot from these attempts, so they haven't been fruitless. Mainly I learned that when I do it myself, I'm going to spend a lot of time and a lot of money, and manage to pick up one or two unique physical injuries, so I can scream at the kids and mutter under my breath at my wife and bleed and apply band-aids and then, when I'm finally done, pay someone to come in and re-do the job I've just botched. So by cutting to the chase I figure I'm saving time, cash and heartache.

It's funny, but one thing I've learned in life is you're no idiot if you just know what you don't know. It's the guys who can't figure out what they don't know that create most of the problems. Limitations. We've all got'em. There are any number of things I'm pretty good at, and in some areas I excel. Home repair - not my bag. But at least I've figured it out. Now if I can just get a grip on this whole grown-up, parenting thing.

BACK ON THE RADIO AGAIN (FOR ONE DAY ONLY!)

You forget how much fun it is. D.C. took a vacation day and I filled in on Rock 107. Funny, from the time I was 16 years old until just a couple years ago, I was on the radio all the time. I've been up and down half the eastern seaboard and all around the dial (both of 'em). It's easy to take it for granted. But I had a good time.

It got me to thinking about how far I'd come since I first made it on to the radio - back at 1260 WCDJ, a 1,000 watt daytime only AM station on Paradise Road (not aptly named) in Edenton, NC. I started there as the guy who mowed the lawn, hoping my proximity would somehow lead to my on-air debut. Inexplicably, this stupid plan worked, and the last two years of my high school career included getting out of school and dashing across town to the radio station, where I would play Barry Manilow and Ann Murray records until sunset.

I did some college radio, and spent six months working part-time at WKNS in Kinston, NC (home of Kings' Barbecue!). That was the voice of Kinston, a 5,000 AM that made me feel like I'd arrived until I landed a part-time job at the 100,000 watt FM blowtorch that was WSFL in New Bern, NC - the first station I worked at that I actually willingly listened to BEFORE becoming an employee. Worked with some great characters and jocks at 'SFL...Rick Stix, John Peace, Fast Eddie, Jim Starr, Smoke (who remains a cherished friend), Gary Lee.

Landed my first full time job when my friend, Steve Kirk, pitched the old Satellite Music Network service to a new class C FM that was about to sign on in Beaufort, NC. Ben Ball didn't want a satellite service, but asked Steve if he knew of any promising young radio people that would't cost much, but would bring some potential and Steve was kind enough to pitch me. That's how I became part of the original Z103 airstaff.

Three years later I was off to WHCN in Hartford, then WPLR in New Haven. After that, I went to Charlottesville, Virginia for my first programming job. Tom Evans from Harris & Associates gets the big assist for landing me at 3WV. An old competitor, Harve Alan, brought me back to Connecticut to handle operations and programming at I05 in Danbury. Then I returned to WHCN, where I had mixed feelings about flipping my old station to the River, although it was a most successful move. I tried getting out of the business after that, but "everytime I think I'm out they pull me back in". And here I sit, in Scranton/Wilkes-Barre, programming Rock 107 and working with one of the finest teams I've ever had the pleasure to work with...and I've been blessed to work with good people most of my career! See what kind of memories five hours on the radio can dredge up?

Frequencies I have populated: 90.5, 95.1, 99.1, 103.3, 105.9 (twice-WHCN and Rock 107's Hazleton frequency), 106.5, 106.9; plus 960, 1260 and 1400 AM. Like the Kinks, I really have been "all around the dial".

IF ONLY IT WERE JUST THE BRITISH WHO WERE COMING

How did we ever let ourselves get so busy? Whatever happened to downtime? ...silence? real rest and relaxation?

Before the cellphones, Internet, cable TV, mp3 players, etc. we actually survived vast stretches of life incommunicado. Remember when driving somewhere in your car meant no one could reach you? When leaving the workplace meant leaving the boss, your co-workers, and the stresses of your job behind until the next day? When payphones were a necessity in case you had an emergency? Remember what silence sounds like? How is what we have today an improvement.

When did our jobs become 24/7 affairs? When did the entire nation go "on call" like a gynecologist with pregnant patients? What's the point? Why the rush? Why the urgency? We're stressed out, burned out, running around like madmen, ignoring the familys we cherish and the dreams we have to feed the tyranny of the urgent. We're so busy making money we don't have anything of value left to spend it on (and we're certainly not taking it with us?)

Somewhere along the way we bought into a lie that this was the American Dream...the good life? Does this really seem good to you? We've got more toys, which serve to distract us from the fact that we have less life. We've got short, tiny little spans of attention...taking our news in soundbites and elevating celebrity, and everything else superficial and disposable, to significance while we ignore everything that really matters. We grow more self-serving, impatient, inattentive, restless, tired and in debt.

Meanwhile our Founding Fathers, men who probably knew something of the American Dream... men who, for the most part, were of some status and wealth, risked all of that to break from the tyranny of the crown. You don't risk wealth and status to pursue the dream of wealth and status. That's contradictory. Now we're chasing a cheap imitation of the American Dream. In the words of Pogo, "I have seen the enemy and it is us." We've gone full circle...from fighting the tyranny of the crown to gain freedom, to sacrificing our freedom and surrendering to the tyranny of the urgent! Where's the modern day Paul Revere? If only it were just the British who were coming. Unfortunately, it's worse than that. It is ourselves!