A Life In Motion: Looking Back From 64

When I look back now, at 64 years old, widowed and living in Bowling Green, Kentucky with my Australian Shepherd dog Mr. Jude, it doesn’t feel like a straight line. It feels more like a long road with a lot of turns I didn’t see coming — but each one mattered. It really starts back in Hernando High School in Mississippi, where I graduated in May of 1982 as senior class president. I didn’t know it then, but that early responsibility — being involved, being present, being trusted — was going to follow me for the rest of my life. But even before that foundation fully formed, there was another quieter thread already being woven into my life. In 1980, I lived for about six months in Savannah, Tennessee with my sister and brother-in-law. That’s where my sister first introduced me to the Catholic faith in a meaningful way. It planted an early seed — something I didn’t fully understand at the time, but something that would stay with me. From there, I went straight into the University of Mississippi in Oxford, where I attended from 1982 to 1987. Ole Miss wasn’t just college — it was a defining chapter. I joined Sigma Pi fraternity, Beta Mu chapter, where I served as pledge class president my freshman year and later as treasurer my sophomore year. I also worked with the Daily Mississippian as a reporter and entertainment editor which shaped the journalist in me more than I realized at the time. And I was involved with Campus Crusade for Christ, where faith, service, and purpose started to take deeper root. One of the most powerful experiences of that time was KC83 in Kansas City, Missouri, where 27,000 college students gathered under one roof. The event featured speakers such as Billy Graham, Christian author Josh McDowell, and Bill Bright, who was the founder of Campus Crusade for Christ (Cru). From there, students went into surrounding neighborhoods working alongside outreach efforts and the Salvation Army. That experience left a lasting impression — faith wasn’t just something you talked about, it was something you lived and carried into action. Somewhere in those Ole Miss years, I met Patty when I married her in April of 1986. Faith continued to grow in the background of life, but it became more personal and intentional when Patty came into my life in 1986. She became the one who helped deepen that early foundation my sister had planted years before. Together, we began attending St. John's Catholic Church (Oxford, Mississippi), where my faith began to take clearer shape in daily life. After college, life shifted quickly. Patty and I moved to her hometown of Russellville, Kentucky in 1987. For about six months, I worked as a sports writer for the Logan Leader-News Democrat. That was a return to journalism in a small-town setting — covering local sports, people, and community life. During that time, our Catholic faith continued through Sacred Heart Catholic Church (Russellville, Kentucky), and it became a steady part of our life together. When we later settled in Bowling Green, we became members of Holy Spirit Catholic Church (Bowling Green, Kentucky), and have remained connected there since around 1988. I was confirmed in the Catholic faith in 1990, and I have remained faithful and active in the Church ever since. From Russellville, we moved to Bowling Green, where a long stretch of working life began. I went into life insurance sales with Commonwealth Life Insurance, based out of Louisville, working through the Bowling Green branch. After that, I worked for Kentucky Central, headquartered in Lexington. That job came with a lot of training — a week in Louisville staying at the Brown Hotel, and another week in Lexington at the Hyatt, with classes at Kincade Towers. It was structured, intense, and built around learning how to serve people through something as serious as financial protection. After that chapter, I stepped into what I’ve always considered my dream job — working for The Daily News in Bowling Green, Kentucky. There I served as a reporter, book reviewer and news clerk. It brought me back to journalism in a deeper way — not just covering stories, but shaping them, editing them, and living inside the rhythm of a newsroom again. It felt like coming home to the work I was meant to do. After that period in journalism, I transitioned into pest control — first with Orkin, where I spent 11 years. That career took me all over the Southcentral Kentucky, including training schools in places like Atlanta, Georgia. It was hands-on work, long hours, travel, and steady responsibility. You learned discipline quickly in that field. After Orkin, I moved into Ecolab, which brought another chapter of training and travel — including flying up to St. Paul, Minnesota for training at the Ecolab tower. There was lots of training also with Ecolab that seemed to come with classrooms, airports, hotels, and new faces — learning, always learning, adapting, always adapting as well as the strict demands of taking care of the customer. Altogether, those years across Orkin and Ecolab became about 27 years in pest control and service work — a long stretch of providing for my family, building stability, and staying in motion. Somewhere in that life, my son Tony was born in Mississippi before we moved to Kentucky — another anchor point in the timeline that changed everything about what mattered. After retiring from that long 27 year pest control career in 2021, I didn’t really stop working. I began working part-time at Walmart as a door host in asset protection. I’ve been there going on almost five years now, minus the time I stepped away to care for Patty. That period of caregiving — about 20 months as her full-time caregiver — is one of the most defining parts of my life. Nothing in all those jobs, schools, or travels compares to that time. It changed how I understand love, responsibility, and presence. Patty passed on May 1, 2025, and that absence never really leaves the room. It just becomes part of the quiet you learn to live with. Now, I live in Bowling Green with Mr. Jude, my dog and man's best friend and companion as they say, and I fill my days with work, walking, writing, and karaoke. Singing covers on social media isn’t about performance — it’s about expression. It’s about keeping something alive inside me after loss, after change, after all the miles. And looking back across all of it, I’ve come to believe something simple but steady: that everything in life happens for a reason and a purpose. Even the hard things. Especially the hard things. The good and the bad both teach us something if we’re willing to see it. Sometimes life feels like a road where you hit a dead end, have to turn around, and find a different path — learning along the way what fits and what doesn’t, and learning patience in the process. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve also learned that wisdom might be one of the greatest gifts that comes with time. Not because life gets easier, but because you begin to understand how to carry it. You learn how to deal with crisis, stress, disappointment — and still keep moving forward. That’s one of the quiet gifts of retirement, too. After decades of working, traveling, training, and responsibility, there’s something meaningful about finally being able to slow down, breathe, and reflect. To rest the body and quiet the mind after years of motion. Of course, I miss Patty deeply. That kind of loss doesn’t leave you — it just becomes part of who you are. And as for the dating world, it feels like uncharted waters at this point in my life. Even after a year as a widower, I don’t think I’m fully prepared for that chapter yet. There are people I care about, people I find myself drawn to, but I also understand that timing matters. I try to trust that God knows what’s ahead, and I’m simply trying to walk in His will for whatever comes next. When I put it all together — Hernando High, Ole Miss, Savannah, Russellville, Bowling Green, journalism, insurance sales, pest control, caregiving, Walmart, and everything in between — I don’t see separate lives. I see one continuous journey of learning, working, loving, losing, and growing. It wasn’t a straight road. But it was a meaningful one. And I’m still walking it.

Seeing Kiss And Def Leppard At The Bridgestone Arena With Patty in 2014

Some nights just stick with you forever. Patty Smith (my late wife) and I headed to Nashville to see Kiss on their 40th anniversary tour in July of 2014, with Def Leppard opening. I could tell Patty was worried about her knee — she had that big brace under her shorts — but we were ready for a night of rock and roll. Little did we know how perfect the night would turn out. An usher noticed Patty having trouble with the stairs and came over. “Go to the ticket booth and tell them I sent you,” he said. Next thing we know, we’re moved down front, probably 25 feet from the stage, low level, right off to the side. Perfect view. Perfect timing. Small acts like that make a huge difference. It made me think back to the first Kiss show I went to — the Love Gun tour back in the late 70s. Nobody I knew in North Mississippi cared much for Kiss, but I loved them, so I went by myself. People would say, “Kiss sucks,” but I was blown away. Fire, smoke, lights, hydraulics — I’d never seen anything like it. And years later, I got to meet Paul Stanley here in Bowling Green when he did his book tour. Told him about that first show, and he said he appreciated it. Gave me a fist bump, posed for a photo — and I still have that picture. Back in Nashville, Patty laughed the whole night. I think she felt like she was at a circus. Kiss was doing their thing, fire shooting, Paul flying across the stage, and Def Leppard opened with that energy — the song “Animal” just hit perfectly. Patty smiled, laughed, and carried on like she’d never seen anything like it. She loved it, and I loved seeing her that happy. That night wasn’t just about the music. It was about laughter, joy, and being together. About small kindnesses from strangers and perfect timing. About sharing a moment that we’d never forget. And even now, when I hear “Animal,” I’m right back there in those seats, watching Patty completely caught up in the magic. Some nights are just for the soul. That was one of them.

Powerful Overwhelming Emotions At The Movie Theatre

Yesterday I did something I hadn’t done in quite a while. I went to the movies. It was the first time I had stepped inside a theater since my wife Patty passed away last year. I had been wanting to see the new Elvis movie Epic, directed by Australian filmmaker Baz Luhrmann, who also directed the earlier Elvis film that received such high praise and rave reviews. So I decided it was time to get out of the house and go. The theater I went to was the Regal Bowling Green in Bowling Green, Ky., the one off Industrial Drive on Great Escape Court, not the one out at Greenwood Mall. That place carries a lot of memories for me. Patty and I went there many times over the years, even while she was battling Parkinson’s. She still enjoyed getting out when she could, and going to the movies together was something we held on to as long as possible. The last movie we tried to see together was Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Unfortunately, Patty started having some medical issues during the film, and we had to leave before it was over. That was the last time we sat in a theater together. Walking back into that same building yesterday brought back a flood of memories. That theater has been there since the early 2000s, and my son Tony even worked there when he was younger. It was his first job. He used to walk to work from the house because it was so close. As for the Elvis movie itself, from what I saw of it, it was very well done. There was some powerful concert footage from Elvis’s Las Vegas years, and it really captured the energy of those performances. Elvis, of course, is still known as the King of Rock and Roll, and that legacy hasn’t faded a bit. But partway through the movie, something unexpected happened. Sitting there in that same theater where Patty and I had spent so many afternoon movie matinees together though the years, the emotions started to hit me. The memories came rushing back, and I began feeling overwhelmed — missing her, feeling a little anxious, and just dealing with that strange mix of grief and nostalgia that widowers know all too well. So I ended up leaving before the movie finished. Still, I’m glad I went. It felt like a step forward in some ways, even if it was a hard one. Being from Memphis originally, Elvis has always been part of the cultural backdrop of life for me. I’ve visited Graceland, and I even have a small connection to Elvis through his longtime physician, George C. Nichopoulos, who people often called “Dr. Nick.” My father saw him as a doctor, and I once visited him myself for a medical issue years ago. I’ve also seen Elvis’s massive exhibit at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. It’s one of the biggest displays there, and it reminds you just how much influence he had on music and culture. Even decades later, he still holds that throne as the King. So yes, I do recommend seeing the movie. Go with your spouse, your girlfriend, or even by yourself like I did. Just be prepared — sometimes places and experiences carry memories you don’t expect until you’re right in the middle of them. For me, it was another reminder that life goes on, even when we’re still learning how to walk through it without the people we loved most.

Remembering Mississippi: A Place That Never Leaves You

I haven’t lived in Mississippi since 1987. That’s pushing forty years now—four decades since I packed up my life, left the Magnolia State, and planted myself in south-central Kentucky, mostly Bowling Green, where I’ve been ever since 1988. But every now and then, something stirs the dust of those old memories, and suddenly Mississippi doesn’t feel far away at all. It feels like yesterday. What brought it all flooding back this time was the news about Lane Kiffin. The Ole Miss football coach decided to bail on the Rebels and head to LSU for a whole lot more money. The move left the players hanging, the administration scrambling, and the fans and alumni feeling sucker-punched. And as a proud Ole Miss alum myself, it bothered me too. You don’t abandon the people who poured their hearts into you—not without leaving a bruise. I ended up talking with a former fraternity brother of mine, Dr. Donald Simmons, who now lives in Tupelo. He’s a chaplain down there, still connected to the heartbeat of Mississippi. We reminisced about the old days, and that simple conversation unlocked a whole room full of memories—college days, journalism classes, long nights at the Daily Mississippian, and the people who shaped my young life. Mississippi may be poor in dollars, but it’s rich in soul. Oxford, Ole Miss, and the Spirit That Lingers Oxford was where I became who I was going to be. I studied journalism at Ole Miss, worked at the campus newspaper, and walked the same streets that so many storytellers had walked before me. It was also where I met my wife, Patty—a meeting that would define the rest of my life. Funny how a single place can carry so many beginnings. There’s something about being a freshman at Ole Miss—the buzz on the Square, the Grove on a Saturday, the faces you meet who somehow stay with you long after you leave. The Ole Miss spirit doesn’t fade. You carry it with you. It becomes a part of how you talk, how you laugh, how you remember. Willie Morris and the Writers’ Bench One of the brightest memories from those years was Willie Morris, the late writer-in-residence at the university. Most folks know him for My Dog Skip, but to us journalism and English students, he was something more—our literary uncle, our storyteller-in-chief. Willie was a Southern writer who had lived big in New York City—editor of Harper’s Magazine, Rhodes Scholar, a man who knew both the Delta and Manhattan. And somehow he made Oxford his home. I was one of his groupies. A lot of us were. We’d sit with him at the Hoka, sipping coffee that may or may not have been strengthened with a little bourbon. We’d follow him over to The Gin, drinking White Russians while he talked about life, writing, and Mississippi. Sometimes we’d wind up in his house on Faculty Row—No. 16, if memory hasn’t tricked me—where he’d read to us or listen to whatever half-finished stories we were working on. Those nights had a magic of their own. Dr. Simmons was the one who first introduced me to Willie. I still have several of Willie’s books, all autographed, plus some letters we exchanged through the years. He was generous that way—generous with his time, his words, and his whiskey.

Family Roots in Mississippi Mississippi is also where our son Tony was born, in Pontotoc. Hard to believe he’s 38 now and living his own life up in New Jersey. Funny how something as simple as thinking about Oxford can make the years feel like a stack of old photographs sitting in your lap. And speaking of people from those days, I’m looking forward to reading The Dean by Sparky Reardon, one of our former deans at Ole Miss. Sparky is retired now, but he was a legend when I was there. My stepdaughter, Misty Hale from Taylor, asked what I wanted for Christmas, and I told her plain and simple—an autographed copy of Sparky’s book. That’ll bring back even more memories, I’m sure. Time Moves On, But Mississippi Holds Tight I may have built my life in Kentucky, raised kids, worked different jobs, and grown older, but Mississippi still lives quietly in me. Those eleven years—from 1976 to 1987—were long enough to shape a lifetime. They were good years. Formative years. Years full of friendship, learning, heartbreak, joy, and the unmistakable Southern charm that only Mississippi can produce. Lane Kiffin leaving might sting for a while. Folks in Mississippi have a way of taking loyalty seriously. But coaches come and go. Players come and go. What stays is the spirit—the memories, the people you met, the stories you lived, and the feeling you carry long after you leave Oxford. And even after nearly forty years away, Mississippi still knows my name.

Mr. Jude Takes Manhattan

(This is a fiction story) Mr. Jude, the proud Australian Shepherd from Bowling Green, Kentucky, had always heard his dad, Galen, talk about far-off cities and big adventures. But nothing could have prepared him for the morning his dad knelt beside him, scratched behind his ears, and said, “Buddy… we’re going to New York City.” Mr. Jude tilted his head, tail thumping. New York? He didn’t know what that meant, but he liked the excitement in his dad’s voice. Flying High At the airport, Mr. Jude became a celebrity immediately. Everyone stopped to admire him as he marched along with no luggage whatsoever — a perk he took great pride in. When it came time for his ID, he simply lifted his paw and placed it neatly on the scanner pad. Approved. A paw print was all he needed to soar. On the plane, he curled into the window seat beside his dad. As the jet lifted into the clouds, Mr. Jude pressed his nose to the glass, watching the world shrink into soft cotton shapes. Every now and then, he’d glance at Galen as if to say, Are we really doing this? The Big Apple Welcomes a Southern Dog When the plane touched down, New York greeted Mr. Jude with a whirlwind of sounds — honking taxis, chattering crowds, the rumble of trains under their feet. But he walked proudly, tail high, as if he owned the place.

First stop was the 9/11 Memorial, where Mr. Jude seemed to sense the heaviness and reverence of the space. He stood quietly with his dad, feeling the cool air wash over them both. Then it was off to Times Square, where the neon lights bounced off his fur. People snapped photos, thinking he might be a movie dog. He didn’t mind. Attention was attention. At the Empire State Building, he rode up the elevator like a pro. At the top, he poked his nose through the safety rails, taking in the whole city — millions of people, and he was the only Australian Shepherd from Bowling Green among them. A Dog at Katz’s? Oh yes. Katz’s Deli was next, where the smell of pastrami nearly made him melt right there on the tile floor. He sat politely while Galen ate, knowing any second a little piece might “accidentally” fall his way. It did. Subways, Buses, and Jersey Trains — Oh My Mr. Jude learned that New Yorkers didn’t blink at much, but seeing a dog ride the subway, then hop onto a bus, then take a train to New Jersey — well, that got a few raised eyebrows. He handled it like a seasoned commuter. The train clacked across the river, and Mr. Jude’s nose glued itself to the window again. So many new smells in one day! Onward to Philadelphia The next morning, the adventures continued south to Philadelphia. When they reached the famous Rocky Steps, Mr. Jude sprinted up them like he’d been training his whole life. At the top, he posed proudly beside the Rocky statue, chest puffed, ears perked. Tourists cheered. Phones came out. For a moment, he was the champ. At Max’s Steaks, where “Creed” filmed a scene, Mr. Jude watched Galen enjoy a cheesesteak the size of a small log. And once again—through the grace of gravity—little pieces made their way to his paws. Heading Home On the flight back, Mr. Jude curled up in the seat again, this time tired from everything he’d seen: skyscrapers, trains, statues, cities he’d never imagined. He rested his head on Galen’s arm and sighed deeply — the happy sigh of a dog who had lived a whole chapter of life in just a few days. And Galen looked down at him and smiled. “Not bad for a Kentucky boy,” he whispered. Mr. Jude thumped his tail once, as if to say, "Best trip ever, Dad. Let’s do it again!"

The Immaculate Deflection — Egg Bowl 1983 (The Day the Wind Became a Rebel)

Some football moments feel scripted by ESPN. Others feel scripted by God Himself. And then there’s the 1983 Egg Bowl, which felt like it was scripted by a mischievous Ole Miss ghost with a sense of humor — a moment now immortalized as The Immaculate Deflection. Back then, I was on campus at Ole Miss, up in my Sigma Pi fraternity room, listening to the game on my radio — the kind that crackled like bacon grease anytime the announcer took a deep breath. Honestly, the place was practically empty. Maybe one or two other guys were around, but it was basically just me, the radio, and the sound of my own heartbeat. Mississippi State lined up for the game-winning field goal. Easy. Routine. Practically a formality. The announcer got quiet. I leaned closer to the radio like I was trying to hear a whisper from heaven. The ball went up… …and then the wind decided Ole Miss deserved better. That Mississippi breeze reached out like an invisible Rebel hand and pushed the ball away from the uprights like it had someplace else to be. Just like that — the kick missed, Ole Miss won, and I almost knocked my chair over in that empty frat room celebrating by myself. That miraculous gust sent the Rebels to the 1983 Independence Bowl in Shreveport, Louisiana to go against Air Force — and my dad, my brother-in-law, and I packed up and headed down there to see it in person. Now, let me tell you something: Mother Nature did not go easy on us that night. It rained so hard it felt like we were sitting inside a car wash. We had plastic sheets draped over us, trying to keep at least a few drops of rain out of our beers — but the rainwater kept winning. By halftime, our beer had turned into a sort of “Shreveport Light.” We watched as Air Force grounded us 9–3 in a cold, soggy slog where the ball probably gained more yards from slipping out of players’ hands than from actual plays. Meanwhile, my dad — bless his short, easily-frustrated stature — kept hollering “DOWN IN FRONT! DOWN IN FRONT!” every time someone taller stood up. Which, of course, was everyone. I’m pretty sure he spent more time yelling at people’s backs than watching the game. Still, soaked to the bone and losing or not, it was a trip I’ll never forget. The miracle in Jackson, the monsoon in Shreveport — it all blends together into one of my favorite Rebel memories. 1983 will always be the year: the wind blew left, a miracle was born, and Ole Miss blew our minds. The Immaculate Deflection. A Rebel legend — with a punchline only football can deliver.

Finding My Voice at 63: Karaoke, Grief, and the Healing Power of a Song

Grief shows up in strange ways. It sneaks into the quiet hours of a morning walk, it lingers in church pews, and it settles in the empty chair at the dinner table. After my wife Patty passed away from Parkinson’s this past May, the silence in my home felt heavier than ever. Even with my good dog, Mr. Jude, padding around the house, the rooms echoed with memories. Somewhere inside that silence—somewhere in the middle of trying to keep going, trying to find rhythm in a world that felt off-beat—I discovered something unexpected: I started singing. Now, let’s be honest. I’m 63 years old. I’ve lived through classic rock, disco, New Wave, and all the wild and wonderful noise of the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s. But despite all that music around me, I never once had the confidence to sing in public—or even in church. I was the guy who mouthed the hymns and hoped nobody noticed. But grief has a strange way of rearranging your fears. When you’ve lived through something as heavy as watching the love of your life battle Parkinson’s, the fear of singing a little off-key suddenly feels pretty small. So one day, in the quiet of my living room, I cued up a karaoke track and started to sing. It wasn’t pretty at first. Mr. Jude promptly walked out of the room—probably wondering why his dad suddenly sounded like a one-man rock opera. Dogs hear music differently, so maybe all he caught was my voice bouncing off the walls like a siren. I told him he didn’t have to be my biggest fan today. (He still isn’t.) But something happened inside me. I felt lighter. I felt a little freer. I felt, for the first time in a long time, like I could breathe again. What started as one song became two… then ten… then dozens. Classic rock ballads, soft rock, the songs that shaped my young adulthood—and the ones Patty and I used to hear on long drives together. At some point, without really planning it, I began posting the videos on my social media accounts under Galen’sWorldBG. And here’s the surprising part: People watched. People listened. People responded with encouragement. What started as a private moment of healing turned into a small community of folks cheering me on. Some were friends. Some were strangers. But the more I sang, the more I felt myself slowly stitching together pieces of a heart that grief had torn open. Singing has become my therapy. It’s become my companion. And it’s become a reminder that even after loss, life still invites us to create. I’m not trying to win a Grammy. I’m not trying to be the next YouTube sensation. I’m just a widower in Kentucky, singing rock classics in his living room, finding comfort in the stories and melodies that helped shape who I am. Patty may not be here to hear me sing, but I like to think she’d smile at the idea. Maybe she’d shake her head a little, laugh the way she used to, and say, “Galen, sing your heart out.” And that’s exactly what I plan to do. So here’s to late-in-life beginnings. Here’s to music that heals old wounds. And here’s to singing—even when the dog leaves the room. Below are a few of my recent karaoke covers. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed making them.

College Town At Christmas 2025: "Healing & Comfort In Work, Family, Friends & Travel To Places I have Never Been Before"

There’s a quietness that settles over a college town at Christmas as I look to the holiday season in Bowling Green, Ky. The students leave, the traffic thins out, and the same streets that buzz with life in September feel suddenly gentle, almost reflective. This year, that quiet will feel deeper to me than ever before. Maybe it’s because 2025 has been the hardest, longest year of my life—a year that reshaped me in ways I’m still trying to understand. When Patty’s (my wife of 39 years) Parkinson’s began taking more from her, caregiving stopped being a choice and became a calling. I didn’t know then how much strength, patience, and love a human heart could hold. I didn’t know how much it could break, either. Parkinson’s is a thief—slow, steady, unrelenting. Every day it stole little pieces from her: her strength, her independence, her voice, and finally her life on May 1st, 2025.

Those last months, I learned what real devotion looks like. I learned how quiet a house becomes when the person you love most slips away piece by piece. I learned that grief begins long before death ever arrives. And when the moment finally came, when Patty took her last breath, the world didn’t just feel emptier—it felt rearranged. After she passed, I found myself needing purpose again. Something to ground me. Something to get me out of the house. So I went back to Walmart, part-time, working the door in asset protection. Greeter, door host, security—call it what you want. I call it rebuilding. Every shift pulled my muscles of discipline and routine back into shape. Every customer reminded me that life keeps happening around us, even when our hearts feel frozen in place.

And then came the trip—up to New Jersey to see my son, Tony, and his wife, Danielle. My anchors when the seas get rough. Patty always loved that our boy built a life for himself, and being around his family lets me carry a piece of her with me. There’s comfort in watching life continue—in their home, in their conversations, in the way they include me without hesitation. Grief doesn’t disappear, but love can still surround it. The other day, for the first time in my 63 years, I stepped into New York City. December lights, skyscrapers, crowds, the 911 Memorial, the Empire State Building, the roar of Penn Station—all of it overwhelming and beautiful. I thought about Patty as I walked those streets. She would’ve smiled at me taking it all in like a wide-eyed kid from the South. She would’ve said, “Go on, Galen. You deserve to see things.”

She was right. I did. And I still do. Christmas this year will feel different. There’s an empty space at my side that no season, no trip, no celebration can fill. But there’s also a warmth that comes from knowing Patty’s love didn’t end—it just changed forms. It lives in the memories. In the stories. In my son. In the journey she set me on long before illness knocked on our door. This holiday, I’m holding sorrow and gratitude at the same time. Sorrow for the woman I lost. Gratitude for the life we shared. Gratitude for Tony and Danielle, for New Jersey hospitality and her family-my new family for the warmth and love as well as for acceptance that they have extended to me on my trip. And for all the new experiences in New York City, and for the quiet of a college town waiting for me back home at Christmas. I carry Patty with me into every place I go. And this Christmas, in a season built on hope, I’m learning how to carry myself again too.

Making A Beeline For Buc-ee's BBQ Beef Brisket Sandwiches In Smiths Grove, Ky.

I have to admit that I did not pay a visit to the new Buc-ee's, one of our most talked about businesses in our county or even the region until this month. Our Buc-ee's is located about 19 miles up the road from us here in Bowling Green, Ky , on I-65. I went once in the afternoon and once in the morning, both on weekdays. The Texas based chain, Buc-ee's is the Wal-Mart of all super gas stations anywhere in the country and they offers tons of fuel pumps, their famous BBQ Beef Brisket sandwiches, beef jerky, Beaver Nuggets, fudge and glazed nuts among thousands of other items. And no semi-tractor trucks are allowed either. Only passenger vehicles and RV's are allowed. And they have many, many clean restroom stalls and urinals to offer too. Our Buc-ee's, which is nestled in Northeast Warren County, has been in the small town of Smiths Grove, Ky., for over a year now.  I first heard a lot about Buc-ee's, especially the buzz when it was announced that they were coming to town. Then it was the grand opening buzz.  Since my two visits there, I have determined that it's really not a place for locals to go.  It's for the interstate traveler.  That's who they have in mind and designed it for as well who they cater to.  It's for people who are traveling and who need to stop to fuel up and who want a nice place stop rather than having to deal with a truck stop and all of the diesel fuel as well as the black smoke in the air.  It's for people who are looking for clean restrooms and who don't want to wait in line to use one either.  It's for people who want to take their time looking around and shop. Mainly, it is for people who are hungry and thirsty.  Even though, I am a local, I wanted to stop out of curiosity just to see what all the buzz was about.  And I saw it with my own eyes.  Yes, it's everything they say it is and more.  To me, it's like going to Disney World. Everyone appears to be on vacation or at least traveling to a certain destination. It's extremely crowded. It's impossible to walk a straight line inside the mega giant gas station/retail store because everyone walks in front of you or they think you are walking in front of them.  I didn't try the fuel pumps so they I don't know what that experience is like. I used their restrooms during each visit. Yes, it is true. They are very clean and there are a lot stalls and urinals. And after I poured me Arizona Tea Watermelon flavor fountain drink, I also made a beeline for the Buc-ee's BBQ Beef Brisket sandwiches, paid for them and got out of there as quick as possible.  I repeated the same thing during each visit. And by the way, there's no place to sit down to eat or drink. So you have to go to your car, to do that. There BBQ Beef Brisket cost around $9.00 and they are worth it because they are delicious. 

So if you have never stopped at a Buc-ee's, you need to do it at least once, just to see what it is like.  Then you will see what I mean. 

Newsroom Chronicles No. 2

30 years ago yesterday I rebooted my pest management career on Feb 1, 1995. I had worked for Orkin, a nationwide pest management company prior for six months in 1989 before going to work in the newsroom at the Bowling Green Daily News in Bowling Green, Ky., in May of 1990. I worked there as an editorial assistant, staff writer and book reviewer for almost five years. Print journalism was my major course of study when I attended the University of (Ole Miss) in Oxford, Miss., from 1982-1987. However, after several turn of events and circumstances in my life where I pretty much hit a dead end in my newspaper career, it was time for me to move on. I decided to go back to Orkin. After I made a phone call to someone who I knew at the local branch and who apparently still believe in me, he was able to help me get back on. Also, a couple of other people I knew who also worked there, were a big support to me too. But during the first two years, I have to admit, I hated it. I had an ego problem. So I had to learn to shed my ego and so I checked out some self help tapes from our local library and I began to listen to them in my work truck as I drove down the roads and highways of Bowling Green and Southcentral Kentucky to my accounts. Mainly, I came to understand that we “we are not our jobs.” It’s just a label and it’s how we get our money. The real person is on the inside. It’s how we treat other people that really matters in life. So that’s how I learn to be successful in the pest management business which was to be nice to my customers. That’s what customers want the most is for their service person to be somebody they can trust, be nice and be respectful. And of course, take care of their pest issues too. So after 11 years with Orkin, I left there and went to work for Ecolab, a global corporation (commercial accounts only) working in the Bowling Green and Southcentral Kentucky market still. Again, those same principles applied with my customers for those last 15 years with Ecolab. When I retired from my pest management career after 27 years altogether, I worked in the retail world at Walmart for two years and then I tried my hand as a school bus driver for eight months for Warren County Public Schools. Unfortunately, I had to quit abruptly in order to stay home with my wife as her full-time caregiver not long after she was diagnosed with Parkinson's in April of 2024. I have been at home with her 10 months now and I can honestly say it's the toughest job that I have ever had. However, as I look back at all the years in my working career now that I am retired, it was my communication skills that I learned in journalism school at Ole Miss and my five years of work in the newsroom at the Bowling Green Daily News that gave me the confidence to excel in my pest management career with Orkin and Ecolab. Not to mention it was my education and newspaper experience that helped me greatly in that vast unknown and unchartered territory in life that we all experience in our working careers. And somehow by the grace of God, I have been able to find my way to get to this point where time has become my best friend.

"It Is Better To Light A Candle Than Curse The Darkness"-Eleanor Roosevelt

Newsroom Chronicles No. 1

I figured I wrote at least 5,000 obits for the Bowling Green Daily News from 1990-1995. For the first couple of years, I had to

Galen working in the newsroom in the early 90's.

transcribe them over phone from the funeral home while typing them into the computer. Then we advanced to having them faxed to us by the funeral homes with the latest technology at the time. However, at one point, I got to where I was making a lot of mistakes in the obits because of my dyslexia or learning disability. I was on the verge of being fired by the managing editor who had a notorious reputation of giving you hell if you got on his bad side. Needless to say, I got on his bad side. He gave me two weeks to straighten up or be shipped out. I even tried to make a deal with him like they do in politics in Washington, D.C. these days. He told me that he doesn't make deals. He was a former military man and he was strict. Anyway, I buckled down learned to focus on my work and concentration skills while I was at home at night and on the weekends. Mainly, I learned to slow down and read over the copy three times before I sent it on. After two weeks, he called me back into his office stating that I had improved and I was able to keep my job. I also apologized to him about trying to make a deal with him (I don't remember what the deal was about but he accepted my apology. He could be really firm when he had to be. In my case, he was really firm with me. He has passed away now) Instead, I took responsibility for my mistakes. If you are having problems at your job. No. 1.) Be respectful of your boss and take responsibility for your mistakes. Apologize and tell him or her that you will work on improving. Your attitude towards your boss and job is very important. 2.) Slow down and learned to do the job right. 3.) Practice and study your job skill set in order to improve. Practice your job requirements when you are off duty. In other words, practice your job on your own time at home. If you do these steps, you will be able to keep your job.

College Town At Christmas 2024: Making A Gratitude List Does Not Cost You A Dime

 What is free in life?

Air, water (sometimes), the ability to walk around in public places or freedom of speech? Now, let's look even more deeper.  With Thanksgiving approaching fast, what do you have gratitude for in your own life this holiday season? Your spouse, your children, your dog, your cat, your home, your cars, your job, your community or your church? What about your freedom to worship in a particular church or having faith in God? How about your local government, leaders, police force or fire department? Or what about our country (America), our national leaders or our military? How about our schools, college and universities across the country? What about our doctors, hospitals and have access to medicine? What about food, grocery stores and retail stores? But remember money is not everything in life (I know. But it sure helps to have a job and money of course). As the old saying goes (which is very true) having lots of money will not buy you happiness, that's for sure. We have all heard stories of people making millions and then losing it all.  Or people who win the lottery and they get the lottery curse loosing it all or something bad happens to them. I think you get the picture.

Yes, having gratitude does not cost us a dime when we begin to do our own inventory of what we are thankful this holiday season.  To be honest, I have had a tough 2024 this year already especially since my wife was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease in April.  As her full-time caregiver, I have had to learn to take a daily inventory of my own gratitude list. I always come to the conclusion that I am very blessed.  Oh, I could sit around and feel sorry for myself for many different reasons.  And I have to admit some times I do have bad days just like my wife does.  We are fallible human beings. But that's part of life.  Nothing will ever make you totally happy.  It's the little things in life that make you happy. Nothing is permanent either.  Everything changes sooner or later.  Nothing stays the same. When life throws you a curve ball, you learn to adjust.  It's in our DNA as human beings to learn to adjust and make changes.  We are always adjusting to new things and new situations whether we like it or not.  We learn to make the best of it-one day at a time. We are always striving to find routine in our lives day in and day out.  Routine is the key to what helps us survive in this world.  Just like holiday traditions, It is a time to be together as a family and a community in order to be thankful for what we do have in our own lives.

So with that said, do yourself a favor and do your own gratitude list this season.  Think of what you are thankful for-big or small.  And I bet that you will find that you are blessed like me.  And it will definitely take the burden of stress off your shoulders. God Bless and Happy Thanksgiving as well as Merry Christmas!

My Thoughts On The Homeless in Bowling Green, Ky.

I think the older I get, I have more empathy for the homeless in our city of 80,000 in Bowling Green, Ky. But on the other hand, I have more gratitude and appreciation for what I have too in my life (my home, my family, my dog and my car among other things in my life). It makes me think how lucky I am to have the life I have had at age 62. I think about the homeless in the path of Hurricane Helene down south right now. I hope and pray that they did not get swept away into the Gulf of Mexico. There are ways of helping the homeless in Bowling Green and other towns across America without even leaving your home. You can give to the Salvation Army or Goodwill online. Or give to your local church. I am sure they have a mission to reach out to the homeless. I think two positive things that Bowling Green has going for right now is that a brand new intake center is being built with several agencies involved including law enforcement as a place they can be taken to instead of jail when picked up off the streets. They will be evaluated and then determine what the next step is for them. And the other great thing that has happened recently is that the Salvation Army has remodeled one of their older buildings across the street from their newer one where the homeless can take a shower and wash their clothes. They probably have some other things that the Salvation Army can do to help out at that point also. When you see the Homeless on the street corner holding up a sign or panhandling people for money, don't roll down the window and yell "Get a job!" I admit, I am guilty of that many times through the years. Instead of giving them money to them on the spot, give them food items, bottled water or clothing items according to the season. As far as money goes, give to your favorite charity who has a mission to help the homeless. (Disclaimer: Recognize that there are some people on the street corners posing as homeless. They are not homeless. They treat it like a job and they are scammers. I have been scammed before. That's why the experts who work with homeless or government officials say there are better ways to give to them such as giving online to your favorite charity who help the homeless directly in our community).

Reptile Brains And The Road Ragers In Our Midst

     I have to admit, road ragers make me nervous.

    Actually, I call them "Reptile Brains" because they are not thinking rational by taking high risks and driving extremely dangerously using their vehicle as a 3,000 lbs. weapon.  I have been seriously road raged a couple of times in my 47 year driving career (I have been driving since I was 15 years-old).  Both of them have happened in the last ten years of my life.  The first time that I remember was down in Nashville probably about eight or nine years ago.  My wife and I were going to eat at a restaurant in Madison, Tenn., and my son and his girlfriend were following us in his car. Apparently, I pulled in front of somebody at a red light.  But when I looked into the rearview mirror, I did not see a car coming my way.  I know is that he must have been speeding and because he was on my tail before I knew it. All of sudden, he was honking his horn, cussing me, giving me the finger and edging up to my bumper.  The red light turns green and then he swings around the side of my car and does the same thing.  I just ignored him and kept looking forward trying to stay calm. But my heart began racing and I was trying not to have a panic attack or react.  My wife, fortunately was looking down at her phone and I did not tell her what was going on. That's what I was trained to do in all my years of taking professional driver training courses in my 27 years of working in the pest management industry. Mainly, we were trained to stay calm and not react. Then the road rager pulls in front of me and slams on the breaks a couple of times.  Again, I did not react and stayed calm.  Finally, I guess when he realized that he was not going to get a reaction out of me so he decided to move on.  I was incredibly relieved but shaken up.  I didn't tell my wife about it until we arrived at the restaurant parking lot.  My son pulled in right behind us and jumped out of his car. He was concerned about me and asked if I was okay.  I told him I was but it had shaken me up and he said he understood.  It took me a little while to relax even to eat my meal. My son said that it would have done the same thing to him.

    Then last week basically the same thing happened to me again in Bowling Green.  Except this time, I was slowing down to see where a pothole was so I could report it to the city in order for it to be fixed.  I looked into the rearview mirror and there were no cars behind me.  Again, all of sudden, this particular driver in a car was on my tail, honking his horn, cussing, giving the finger, swerving and trying to go around me. In my neighborhood, drivers have a bad habit of speeding, driving 50 or 60 mph in a 30 mph speed zone.  It's scary sometimes to witness this especially when I am sitting on my front porch or walking the dog on the Greenway. Finally, I pulled off on a side road in order to get home.  If he followed me, I had a Plan B.  I would drive away from my house and start heading toward the police station or call 911 on the way there.  
Thank God, he went on.  I was shaken up again. However, I used my training by remaining calm and not reacting.  That is your best defense when being road raged.  There is a couple of other things that you can do also. (Please watch the video below that I have posted).  Thank you for reading and be safe out there!

The New "Bob Marley: One Love" Movie Is Jamming While Bringing Back Good Memories For His Fans

 Nowadays there's so much to watch on TV. Actually, there's really too much to watch in my opinion. 

We got internet streaming flat

screen TV's with built in apps that have taken the thunder out of me watching my large collection of DVD movies that I have been collecting these last several years.  We have Dish Satellite TV also.  And I am really scratching the surface on that too.  Half of the buttons on the remote, I don't even know how to operate. Lol. To be honest, I think I have gotten too lazy to get up put the DVD's in the machine lately.  It's just much easier to flip on the TV and start pushing buttons on the remote and began chipping away at the tip of the iceberg on the tons and tons shows, documentaries and movies available to watch on the internet streaming TV apps and Dish Satellite TV. 

But every now and then a new movie comes along that is being shown at our local theatre.  And usually if it's a rock music biopic, I am very interested in going to see it.  In this case with this latest biopic, it's a movie about reggae music legend "Bob Marley" which is currently being shown here in Bowling Green. The movie is called, "Bob Marley: One Love." My wife (Patty) and I went to see it last Monday and I thought it was a great movie and really enjoyed it.  And course, I always have to sit on the outside seat in in the theatre just in case I have get up to use the restroom. And we always purchase a large popcorn with butter and a large Pepsi at the concessions stand beforehand that we share together to enjoy our movie with.

I won't spoil the details of movie by talking about what happens or how the movie is portrayed.  However, the movie brought a lot of good memories back to me while watching it. It reminded me when I was in college at Ole Miss in Oxford, Miss., in the early 80's and I was in the Sigma Pi Fraternity.  We played a lot of Bob Marley back in those days at the frat house especially during parties.  Also, Patty and I owned a Bob Marley greatest hits CD and we wore it out playing it over and over in the car in the 90's and 2000's. Especially when we would drive down to Pensacola Beach at the Gulf of Mexico where we go on vacation for several days at the beach.  I thought the movie was well done and I loved the music.  Patty and I have started getting back into Marley's music here at the house on the Amazon Prime Music app on my Android phone with the JBL bluetooth speaker lately I have noticed. 

One major thing about the movie I will say, Bob Marley and his band members definitely loved their "Ganja" (marijuana) down there in Jamaica. I supposed that was to be expected. He and his family and some of his bandmates were members of the Rastafari religion. The smoking of "cannabis" is part of their religious ceremonies. It is legal for their religion in Jamaica to smoke it but illegal for others on the island. If someone is caught with a small amount of marijuana is not a criminal offense but they do have to pay a fine. And if it's over a certain amount, it is considered a criminal offence. In just about every scene of the movie, Marley and his bandmates had several joints of Ganja lit up and passing it around.  The only thing that I didn't like about the movie, is that I had to go use the restroom and unfortunately I missed the scene where the Rolling Stones met Bob Marley backstage.  Just my luck, right? Lol.  Oh well, I am sure I will catch the movie again next time on a streaming internet channel app or Dish Satellite TV very soon. No doubt.

The Man Who Made Me A Kentucky Colonel: The Late Dr. Lee E. Elias

Every once in a while I think we all come across one of those particularly amazing individuals in our lives.

I met once such man several years ago when I was working for a national corporation here in Bowling Green, Ky., when I was a sales and service professional.  I had met him once before in town prior to him coming work at our place of employment. But I didn't really know him or much about his background. Needless to say when he came to work for us, I got to know him pretty quickly and I witness him "set the woods on fire" as they say in the sales and service industry. As a service professional, he took me into new places that I knew what they look like from the outside but I had never been on the inside of them before. Because of his astonishing connections with people in our community and incredible sales capabilities, he made those things happen.  A lot of those places were government buildings and entities where the general public was not allowed. One such place was the TVA Paradise Fossil Fuel plant in Drakesboro, Ky., in Muhlenberg County. That place was daunting! I was overwhelmed when I entered the gates to service. I had no clue where to go or what to do because that place was humongous. Plus the workers always seemed preoccupied with their work and seemed to be bothered in order to take time help out a third party service person. Another place was a dynamite manufacturing plant in Muhlenberg County also. I had to have a security clearance to get in there plus wear booties on my shoes while I was escorted around because I go into rooms where they had top secret high tech water jet laser cutters and things of that nature. Once there was a scientist from Israel there inspecting products as I was working.  I was always the one man in a uniform driving a white Ford Ranger pickup truck around Bowling Green and Southcentral Kentucky entering these places on a mission.  He was able land some high dollar service accounts and quickly rose to be one of the top sales person in the company. He won all kinds of sales awards in his short career with us.  In the meantime, he helped me make a lot of money during those years he was employed with us I remember.

His name was the late Dr. Lee E. Elias. The following was taken from his obituary in the Bowling Green Daily News. "He was originally from Atlanta and was a highly decorated Marine and Army Vietnam veteran.  He served three tours of combat duty with the 3rd Marine Division in Force Reconnaissance. He later entered the Army as medic in Korea and Hawaii.  Among the many honors head had received was the Soldier's Medal for saving a life at the risk of his own.  He was also Southern Baptist Minister and for many years he ministered to college students on the campus of Baylor University, Texas Christian University and Western Kentucky University."  I remember Dr. Elias fondly and I remember we had several civil debates on being a Protestant vs. being a Catholic since I was a former Baptist and then Catholic convert. But I stood my ground with him and he respected my beliefs about being a Catholic. I also tested my faith too during those conversations. One day he offered to make me a Kentucky Colonel.  He said he had connections with the charitable organization in Louisville since he was a Kentucky Colonel himself and that he knew the Kentucky governor personally. I thanked and then asked him why he wanted to do that for me. He said he respected me and that I was a hard worker for our company. He also said I had helped him achieve his sales goals.  I thanked him again and a few weeks later, I received my certificate in the mail.  I had it framed and it still hangs on my wall in the den at home to this day where I have lived for 25 years now. And proudly tell them world that I am Kentucky Colonel thanks to Dr. Elias.

The last time I saw Dr. Elias was the parking lot of where we worked in 2005.  He had just gotten back from ministering to the people in need in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina had hit down there in Louisiana and along the Gulf Coast. He was a solid man of God and fearless. He was also a highly educated man with a keen sense of intellect and humor.  Apparently, he passed away about four years later in 2009 from complications of an illness that had lingered on for years after the he time he spent in the Vietnam during the war. R.I.P. Dr. Elias. I am sure you are missed by all who knew and loved you.

College Town At Christmas 2023: The Holiday Season Is For Dogs

    I am a dog walker and dog lover.

     And I also an observer of dogs. Especially when I'm walking my eight year-old Red Merle AKC Australian Shepherd named "Jude." on the Greenway close to my house. I pretty much walk him every morning. I think a lot and wonder about everything especially dogs. Mainly, I watch Jude walk and sniff.  I see him smiling and how happy he is when he goes for a dog walk with his human. He loves to go for walks on the Greenway. (A dog's sense of smell is 10,000 to 100,000 times more acute than a human's. According to Wikipedia 'For every scent receptor a human has, a dog has about 50.')  As I walk Jude in his harness and a retractable leash, I can keep a close eye on Jude and close to me.  The street that the Greenway is located next to the CSX railroad tracks and is very dangerous because vehicles tend to spend up and down the road and they do not obvisouly go the speed limit of 35 miles per hour as posted with the proper signage. It is very dangerous if a dog is not on a leash. Plus we have a leash law in the city of Bowling Green.

     However, as Jude walks, he keeps his nose close to the ground sniffing the grass and blades of long grass stems that have turned brown and dried out from the fall weather not far from the railroad tracks.  He always sniffs the dried leaves too laying on the ground and the remnants of dried out dog poop too from other dogs as well as their markings of dog pee I am sure.  I wonder what Jude is thinking and what calculations are adding up in his little doggie mind. Is he thinking about the time period that the other dog was just there? Are the dogs sending him some sort of signal or message?  Those are the things I wonder about.  Just what is Jude thinking? I wish I knew.

  I have read that dogs can communicate by other dog's poop and pee left on the ground. (Again, according to Wikipedia, "Dogs have a keen sense of smell and use their urine and feces to mark their territory and communicate with dogs. This marking behavior helps establish their presence in their environment.) Jude thinks he owns the Greenway apparently just like he thinks he's the boss of our house.  I admit, we have spoiled him rotten.  He probably owns more dog toys than any other dog in Bowling Green.  And he always gets the best vet care, dog food and doggie daycare and overnight boarding that money can buy. Remember, "The Puppy Rules!"

   Dogs have a strong sense of belonging. Especially to a human family or to "a pack" as I like to say.  Jude gets extremely excited when the Christmas season arrives.  The day after Thanksgiving, I go to the attic pulldown stairs in the hallway of our house and pull the stairs down.  Then I climb up into the attic and take down the artificial Christmas tree and decorations. He starts to run around the house huffing and puffing and begins to bark. He gets real excited! Then we play Christmas music and he gets even more excited. I made the mistake that of telling him early this year that Santa Clause was going to bring him some Christmas presents like he always does and he started looking to the top of the book shelf where we always try to hide his presents.  He kept looking and whining. Eventually, he just laid down on the floor and kept looking up at the top of the book shelf and whining into the evening.  But there were no presents to be found. This went on for several hours. Poor little fella. Now my wife and I have agreed not to bring it about the presents again until it gets closer to Christmas. 

   We treat Jude like he is our child.  Our only grown son is grown and lives in Nashville plus he is married now.  So Jude came into our lives eight years ago and filled the empty nest syndrome. This Christmas season be sure to share the Christmas spirit and joy with your pets whether you have dogs or cats or any other critter. Be grateful for them because they know too when you are happy because they can sense how you feel. They feed off your vibes and energy.  If they sense when you are happy or not. If you are are happy and feel happy and loved.  Plus they feel safe and secure in the furever home. God Bless you and Merry Christmas to all from Galen, Patty and Jude!


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Jesus Revolution Reminds Me Of My Own Christian Faith Journey

     Yesterday as my wife, Patty, and I sat in a dark movie theater among many other moviegoers here in Bowling Green, Ky., tears started to well up in my eyes as I watched a man in a wheelchair on the big screen screaming "I'm dying, I'm dying" from a bad LSD trip.

     Lonnie Frisbee, the longhair Jesus looking young man and assistant pastor of Calvary Chapel in Southern California comforted the man in the big tent next to the small church that they had outgrown.  Frisbee said a prayer over the man in the wheelchair and then asked the congregation to also to get close to the man and pray over him.  He was afflicted with drug addiction as many of the young people in the congregation who had been addicted or experimented with drugs at one time or another in the late 1960's and early 1970's. Some of them had been a part of the Haight-Ashbury hippie scene in San Fransisco where the counterculture movement started and the Southern California acid rock music culture began.  The new movie "Jesus Revolution" starring Kelsey Grammar as Calvary Chapel Pastor, Chuck Smith, Jonathan Roomie as Lonnie Frisbee and Joel Courtney as Greg Laurie among many others is a great movie in my opinion. It's about the true story of a national spiritual awakening in the early 70's and its origins within a community of teenage hippies of Southern California.  The story and message of the movie is based on a book by one of the movements leaders called "Jesus Freaks" written by Pastor Greg Laurie. Laurie is currently serves as the senior pastor of Harvest Christian Fellowship based in Riverside, Calif.

     Even though, I did not grow up in Southern California back in those days, the movie hit home for me. I grew up down South in Memphis, Tenn., and North Mississippi. I was just a kid when the Jesus Revolution or Movement was happening.  I remember when I was eight, nine or even 10 years-old watching the Vietnam newsreels on the local news, the Moon landings, the Manson murders, the Watergate trials involving President Nixon and I remember, of course, the hippie movement and the rock & roll drug scene and culture of its day. Mainly because of mainstream media such as television, newspapers and magazines, I was able to keep up with what was going on the world like most Americans did back in those when we only had three television channels, one telephone line and Saturday morning cartoons.  However, I was personally affected by the Jesus Revolution when its tentacles stretched all the way to the American South in the early 1970's and early 1980's. My older brother had attended a big revival somewhere in Memphis where the Jesus movement speakers appeared and he brought home a printed t-shirt home with a hand on the back of it with a finger pointing up with letters that stated, "One Way." I used to wear it all the time while riding my bicycle on the streets of Memphis and he did not know about it. Lol.

    I was not much of churchgoer while growing up in Memphis in the 1960's and early 1970's. Also, neither when I first move to North Mississippi as a teenager in the late 1970's.  However, I did get a taste of the Catholic faith in 1980 when I lived with my sister and brother-in-law in Savannah, Tenn., for six months. Then I was baptized as a Baptist at my mother's church in Memphis but I did not make a full commitment to the faith.  I attended some but not regularly. However, when I attended Ole Miss (the University of Mississippi) in Oxford, Miss., for five years in the early 1980's, I joined Campus Crusade For Christ for a semester in the fall of 1983 which is now known as just simply "Cru." Campus Crusade For Christ had joined forces with the Jesus Movement in 1972 and organized a week-long International Student Congress on Evangelism at the Cotton Bowl Stadium in Dallas known as Explo '72.  It featured evangelism and discipleship training and contemporary music events. It was attended by more than 80,000 college and high school students and was nicknamed as the "Christian Woodstock" in the media.  At the end of 1983, I attended KC 83, a Christian conference organized by Campus Crusade For Christ where 27,000 college students had gathered under one roof at a convention center in Kansas City to hear Billy Graham, Josh McDowell and Bill Bright among many others speak as well as attend contemporary christian music concerts on New Years Eve.  We even went out into the City of Kansas City to knock on doors in neighborhoods to share our Christian faith with city residents. Later on, after I met my wife in 1986 while at Ole Miss, we were married civilly and later married in the Catholic faith when I converted to Catholcism.  I have been a faithful Catholic and married to the same woman for the last 37 years.  Sacramental marriage is an institution in the Catholic Church and I honor this with high regard with Jesus Christ being in the center of our marriage I can honestly say. "Til Death Us Do Part"-1549 Book of Common Prayer.

     Needless to say, the memories from growing up down South came flooding back to my mind while watching this movie at the theater reminding me of every step of my faith journey throughout my lifetime. I highly recommend this movie regardless if you are Christian or not.  It might just reignite a spark in you.