If A Friend Asks For Help, You Help Them

Anyone who has watched the TV series Letterkenny knows the show is full of great one-liners. The kind that make you laugh, rewind, and repeat them for weeks, maybe even years.

But one line from the show has always stuck with me more than the others:

“When a friend asks for help, you help them.”

It sounds simple. Almost too simple. But the older I get, the more I realize how rare that mindset actually is.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I take certain things in life a little more seriously than most people. But when it comes to helping friends, acquaintances, or even complete strangers, if someone needs help, I get up and go.

I wasn’t always like this. Somewhere along the road of life, something changed in me.

I think a big part of that shift came after my best friend took his own life. Losing someone like that forces you to look at the world differently. It makes you pay attention to the quiet struggles people carry. It makes you realize how important it is to show up for people.

I know one thing without a doubt, Mikey was always there. No matter what, if anyone needed help, he showed up.

I just wish we all could have been there for him when he needed us the most.

That’s when I started my Acknowledge. Care. Tell. page and got my QPR certification so I could help others who might be struggling. Most of that work focuses on mental health, but the truth is helping people doesn’t stop there.

If someone needs help, physical, emotional, whatever…. I try to be there.

A best friend bought a new house and needed a massive stair chair lift removed. The kind of job that makes you question your life decisions halfway through it. Heavy, awkward, and absolutely miserable to move.

But he asked for help. So I showed up.

Another time a friend got his truck buried deep in a mud hole in the woods in Fernwood Forest. His call for help came at 2 a.m. Most people would roll over and let that phone go to voicemail.

Instead, I grabbed the keys to my old Toyota 4×4 and headed out into the forest to pull him out.

I even helped my brother-in-law shovel his deck after a snowstorm while I was still in a sling after surgery. Mostly so my sister wouldn’t be mad.

Because that’s the rule. When a friend asks for help, you help them.

Now here’s the part I’ve noticed over the years. Not everyone lives by that rule.

Some people won’t get off the couch. Some people suddenly become “busy.” Some people are great at accepting help but mysteriously unavailable when the roles reverse.

And I’m not saying that to complain. It’s just something you start to notice if you pay attention. You quietly keep a mental note of who shows up… and who doesn’t when the bat signal goes out.

But here’s the thing. You shouldn’t help people because you expect something in return. You help because it’s the right way to live.

And if there’s one piece of advice I can give anyone reading this, it’s this:

If a friend asks for help… you help them.

It might be inconvenient. It might be heavy. It might be 2 a.m. in the woods.

But showing up for people is one of the simplest and most powerful things we can do in this life.

The Blurry Photo Epidemic

I recently stumbled across one of the local town pages on social media.

Originally, I joined for practical reasons. Local information. Waterline breaks. Events. Maybe the occasional “black bear crossing the road” post.

But I stayed for something completely different. The comedy.

If you’ve ever spent time scrolling through one of these pages, you know exactly what I mean. It’s a digital circus of half-explained stories, neighborhood debates, and posts that leave you wondering if the internet was a mistake. (This is a whole other story)

But there’s one thing that consistently stands out. Nobody seems to know how to take a picture anymore.

I’m not talking about professional photography here. I’m talking about the basic ability to point a camera at something and capture a recognizable image.

Someone will post about an incident…

“Did anyone else see this truck driving crazy down Main Street?!”

And attached to the post is a photo that looks like it was taken while the photographer was being chased by the bear at 200 miles an hour.

The image is blurry. Distorted. Possibly taken through cheesecloth.

You can’t tell if it’s a truck, a mailbox, or a UFO with all the distorted light.

Now, while that’s mildly frustrating, it’s nothing compared to the real battlefield: the online marketplace.

Imagine you’re looking for something simple. A used table. A bike. Maybe a grill.

You find the perfect listing. It’s local. The price is reasonable. The description sounds promising.

And then you look at the photos.

One picture shows a corner of the item from six feet away.

Another appears to be taken inside a dark cave.

The third photo… somehow includes someone’s thumb covering half the lens.

At this point, you’re not even sure the item in the listing actually exists.

I’m convinced we need a new public service program. Not for computers, but for cameras.

A simple continuing education class titled: “How to Take a Photo That Others Can Identify.”

Step one: HOLD THE PHONE STILL.

Step two: Make sure the object is actually in the frame.

Step three: Wipe the mysterious layer of pocket lint and pizza grease off your lens.

Graduates would receive a certificate… and permission to post photos on the internet again.

And yes, I have additional thoughts about who should be allowed to operate a smartphone in the first place.

But that’s a story for another day.

Managing Uncertainty

Are you superstitious?

I don’t believe I’m a superstitious person. At least… not anymore.

When I was younger, I probably acted like I was. But looking back, I don’t think it was because I believed in superstition. I think it was because the people around me did.

Spend enough time around athletes and you’ll start seeing some strange rituals.

Hockey players who refuse to wash their gear during a winning streak.

Baseball players wearing the same dirty socks every game because the team is “hot.”

People knocking on wood, refusing to walk under ladders, or my personal favorite from my Italian side of the family, tossing spilled salt over your shoulder to ward off bad luck.

And yes… I’ve done most of those things at one point or another.

But not because I truly believed they controlled the outcome. More likely, I was just following the crowd.

Superstition has a funny way of spreading like that. One person says something is lucky. Someone else repeats it. Eventually it becomes part of the culture. Before long, you’re doing things out of habit without ever really asking yourself why.

Somewhere along the way, I grew out of it. These days I see life a little differently.

The truth is, life unfolds at the pace it was meant to. Some days fly by. Others crawl along so slowly you wonder if the clock is broken.

But the outcome? The outcome is going to be what it’s going to be.

It doesn’t care what jersey you wore, what socks you pulled on, or whether you tossed salt over your shoulder.

Luck might make for a good story. But it’s never been in charge.

Building Culture or Tearing It Down

“A man’s character isn’t measured by the job he has, but by how well he does the job in front of him.”

There’s a silent problem happening in a lot of workplaces today, and most people don’t even realize it’s happening.

It’s not bad management. It’s not low wages. It’s not even the economy.

It’s culture.

And culture isn’t created by mission statements, motivational posters, or manager speeches. Culture is created by what people are willing to do… and what they refuse to do.

In today’s society, too many people believe certain work is beneath them.

The janitor is treated differently than the CEO.

The dishwasher is overlooked while the chef gets the praise.

The person sweeping the floor is invisible to the person signing the checks.

But here’s the truth most people miss:

The tedious work is what keeps everything running. Floors have to be swept. Bathrooms have to be cleaned. Equipment has to be wiped down. Prep has to be done. Trash has to be taken out.

These aren’t glamorous jobs. No one brags about them. But without them, businesses fall apart faster than people realize.

You can have the best leadership, the best product, and the best marketing in the world… but if the little things stop getting done, the entire operation slowly starts to decay.

I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count.

The Family Business Trap

In family-run businesses, there’s another problem that quietly develops.

When employees don’t do the small jobs, the family steps in and does them.

The owners start to clean, wipe and pick up, where employees don’t.

Someone stays late or comes in on closed days to clean and prep what should have been done during a shift.

At first, it seems like the responsible thing to do. You care about the business, so you pick up the slack. But over time, something dangerous happens.

Employees learn a lesson without anyone saying a word:

“If we don’t do it… the family will.”

And just like that, culture starts rebranding itself.

Not because employees are bad people, but because standards are no longer enforced. The invisible work always gets done… just not by the people who were supposed to do it.

The “That’s Not My Job” Mentality

One of the biggest cultural shifts I’ve seen over the years is the rise of the phrase:

“That’s not my job.”

When people start deciding which tasks are “beneath” them, the entire system breaks down.

Successful teams…. whether in sports, the military, or business, all share one common mindset:

Everyone handles the small stuff.

The small tasks are not punishment.

They are the foundation.

When the small things are handled well, the big things become easier. But when the small things are ignored, the big things start falling apart.

Pride in the Work

Some of the best workers I’ve ever known weren’t the ones with the biggest titles.

They were the ones who took pride in whatever task they were given.

Mopping restrooms? Dusting shelves. Raking yards. Shoveling walkways.

They made sure it was all perfect and spotless. They didn’t leave a trail behind them.

It wasn’t about the job itself. It was about pride in doing something well.

That kind of mindset is rare today… but when you find it, it changes everything.

Culture Is Built Through Standards

Here’s the reality most owners eventually learn:

Motivation doesn’t build culture. Standards do. Clear expectations. Accountability. Consistency.

Not speeches. Not slogans. Not empty promises.

If the soda gun needs cleaned, it gets cleaned.

If the floor needs swept, it gets swept.

If the fryer needs scrubbed, it gets scrubbed.

And when it’s someone’s responsibility, they own it. Not tomorrow. Not when someone reminds them.

Right now.

The Hard Truth

When a business starts struggling with culture, it’s easy to blame employees.

But the truth is a little more uncomfortable.

Culture is built or destroyed by what leadership allows.

If the small jobs are constantly ignored and someone else quietly fixes them later, the standard slowly disappears.

People don’t rise to unspoken expectations. They rise to enforced ones.

Respect the Broom

A workplace becomes a stronger place to work when people respect every job, from sweeping the floor to running the company. Because when people take pride in the small things, the big things take care of themselves.

But when the small things are ignored, the entire system begins to crack.

Culture isn’t built by titles.

Culture is built by the willingness to do the work that no one else wants to do.

And sometimes the most important tool in any business isn’t the computer, the fryer, or the cash register.

It’s the hands that hold the mop.

The Outsider in the Room

Self-doubt or Self-awareness

How do you see yourself?

When you look in the mirror, what do you see?

Confidence? Success?

Or do you see failure… discontent… and a long list of things you wish you had done differently?

I catch myself people watching a lot. Airports, restaurants, doctor’s offices, it doesn’t matter. I watch everyone. How they dress. How they sit. How they talk. How they present themselves to the world.

When I sit, I sit straight. No slouching. Head up. Making eye contact with everyone.

On the surface, I probably look confident. Like someone who has his life together. And in many ways, I do.

I know I’m successful, even after years of failures and wrong turns.

But I still wonder what people see when they look at me. If I were sitting across the room watching myself, what would I think?

Because the truth is, I don’t dress like someone people would assume is successful. I don’t wear clothes that signal money or status. Most days I probably look more like a guy who just rolled out of a garage than a respectable member of society.

Old cargo shorts. A worn hoodie. Maybe a grease stain or two.

Comfort wins over appearance every single time. Then add in the tattooed disheveled long hair and a crooked hat… I’m not one most would normally approach.

And I wonder sometimes… does that shape how people see me?

We all know the different types of people in a room. The polished ones. The confident ones. The ones who clearly belong. Or at least play the part.

When I look at myself, I tend to put myself closer to the bottom of the ladder. People say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. And honestly, I don’t judge others that way.

But I absolutely judge myself that way.

Sometimes I wonder if life would look different if I wore nicer clothes. If I put on decent pants and a clean button-down shirt instead of cargo shorts and a hoodie that’s seen better days. Possibly a hair cut and a time machine to not tattoo myself from head to toe…

Maybe it would. Maybe it wouldn’t.

The truth is, I never had a career that required me to look polished. Outside of my time in law enforcement, most of my life didn’t happen in boardrooms or networking events.

I didn’t build relationships in college lecture halls, fraternities, or business seminars.

My path was different. And because of that, I’ve always felt like an outsider.

But if I’m honest, that feeling of being on the outside probably started long before any career choices.

Even as a kid, I never quite fit in. I was always a little older than the kids I spent time with, and a little younger than the kids I actually wanted to be around.

Just out of sync. Close enough to be there… but never quite part of the group.

I didn’t really have that deep classmate bond with anyone growing up.

I had friendships, and some of them were great. But life moves on. People grow up, start families, go different directions.

When I became a cop, life shifted again. And eventually I found myself right back where I had always been.

Outside the circle.

Even now. Being a non-drinker makes it even more noticeable. A lot of social life revolves around sitting around with drinks in hand, talking shop and sharing stories.

When that starts happening, I usually feel like the odd man out. So I quietly excuse myself.

It was the same way when I was in law enforcement. I did the job. I respected the brotherhood. But I rarely spent time with coworkers outside the job.

They saw me as one of them, but I never quite felt like I belonged in those circles either.

Now I’m just the guy who used to be on the job. I’m a business owner, but I don’t feel like I fit in with most business owners either.

I don’t see myself as someone special.

If anything, I probably come across as a guy with a bad attitude and a negative outlook. I tend to call it realism, though others might call it pessimism.

Even with lifelong friends, sometimes it feels like we don’t have much in common anymore.

I’ve always been a bit of a loner. And over time, I’ve come to accept that.

Still… every now and then I find myself wondering: What would life look like if I had chosen a different path?

Pride in the Small Things

I was watching a scene from A Memory of a Killer recently that stuck with me.

In the scene, a young guy finishes washing dishes and thinks he’s done. The boss checks them and tells him to do them again because they aren’t clean enough. The kid protests, saying someone else doesn’t even do dishes. The boss responds with something simple but powerful: when his own son had that job at the same age, the dishes were spotless because he had pride in his work.

When the kid shrugs and says, “It’s just dishes,” the boss gives the real lesson.

It’s not about the dishes.

It’s about being given a task and doing it right.

That scene resonated with me because it reminded me of something I learned long before I ever ran a business.

My first job started at midnight.

I worked for the city park and pool from midnight until eight in the morning. While most people were sleeping, I was cleaning bathhouses and helping with pool maintenance. It wasn’t glamorous work. Nobody was applauding the guy scrubbing floors in the middle of the night.

But looking back, those hours taught me something important: the size of the job doesn’t determine its importance. The pride you take in doing it does.

Later on, when I worked for a tree service, I learned the same lesson again. After the cutting was done, I was told to rake and sweep the yard and the street. Nothing fancy about that job either. But I made sure that place was spotless when I finished. The yard looked better than when we arrived.

That’s when it really clicked for me.

Small tasks aren’t meaningless. They’re where character is created.

Anyone can step up when the moment is big and everyone is watching. But the people who take pride in the small jobs, the unnoticed ones, the ones nobody brags about, those are the people you can trust with bigger responsibilities.

Great responsibility isn’t handed out randomly. It’s earned in the smallest tasks.

Because the way someone handles a simple job tells you exactly how they’ll handle a complicated one.

The task may be small, but the character it reveals never is.

Debilitating Pain and the Mental Fatigue

I’m not sure where it all went wrong, but somewhere along the line my physical health took a giant shit. Most of it self inflicted. I was rough growing up. Whether an accidental injury or an injure caused during sports or drunken shenanigans. I was young, most of the time I healed fast or at least the pain and discomfort went away quicker than it presented itself..

Fast forward to my 50’s and healing quick is the equivalent of watching a tree grow. I can deal with ache and pains. I can push through some discomfort. What I cannot do is live a normal happy life with debilitating pain and hand numbness that stops me from being able to have any use of it.

My physical pain has officially become mental pain…. doctors appointments, X-Rays, MRI’s, CT Scans, more appointments, travel to Morgantown, travel to Pittsburgh, see this doctor, see that doctor… honestly, I’m tired of seeing doctors, and driving to different states and towns to be seen. What the fuck is the point!?!? When do visits turn into treatment? When do doctors say, I can fix you! When??? I don’t have the answer. I don’t even think doctors actually give a shit anymore. It’s turned into assembly line medicine…. how many patients can we see in a day and how much money can we make… all at the cost of people with serious issues.

I used to think I was a mentally strong person. But as thy say, everyone has their breaking point. Even typing this blog is an issue, my hand and fingers are so numb it’s near impossible to hold my phone and type.

I’m useless at work. I’m miserable staying home and doing nothing. I can’t look up, left or use my left arm and hand. Driving has become a dangerous game. I’m complaining. Not because I feel any of you care or want to hear about it, but I’m complaining because I’m scared if I stop, I’ll curl up in a corner and waste away somewhere. because mentally I am defeated and physically I am defeated. Pain has a way to break a human down…

I’m officially broken….

My First Grow

Purple Punch

Purple Punch

So I decided to grow my own marijuana plant. My goal is to successfully grow a plant I’ll be able to take nuggets off for smoking, cooking and infusing.

I don’t know the first thing about growing plants or gardening.

To start what I’ve learned so far:

Sow: To plant seeds in the soil.

Germination: The process of a seed waking up and beginning to sprout.

Seedling: A young, fragile plant recently sprouted from a seed.

Cotyledon: The very first, temporary “seed leaves” that appear, which are not true leaves.

Phototropism: the directional growth of plants toward (positive) or away from (negative) a light source, primarily blue light. Triggered by photoreceptors, the hormon

True Leaves: The second set of leaves that look like the mature plant’s foliage.

Taproot: The main, primary root that grows downward.

Yes, the key to learning any new skill or technique is to first learn the terminology surrounding the learned skill.

The Vivoson tent was pretty easy to build. However, the exhaust fan and grow light were a bit difficult to set up. The lights supposed to be able to raise and lower but I cannot figure out how to make that work. Guess I’ll have to keep playing around. For now though, I have one plant sprouted and showing good signs of life and three other seeds planted and assumingely going through the germination stage.

Heat and humidity are key in the beginning. Maintaining the necessary temperature has been a challenge. I’ve been using a hot water bottle to raise the inside temps when needed. Overall, the experience has been fun and when that first seedling popped through the soil, it was a relief and excitement of legit accomplishment. Patience and not overwatering or constant playing will be key to having these plants mature to fill adult plants, and who knows, maybe in a few weeks I’ll be relaxing with my own home grown bud in my bong…

If the City Manager Runs the City… Who Exactly Are We Electing?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how city government actually works, not how it’s explained in civics class, but how it functions in real life.

Take a city like Steubenville.

We have a city council made up of seven members. We have a mayor. We have a city manager. We have full-time police and fire departments that constantly need funding for equipment, training, and staffing, along with neighborhoods that need representation and real attention.

And like a lot of taxpayers, I keep coming back to one simple question:

Who’s actually in charge here?

Because from the outside looking in, it feels like everyone has a title, but nobody has clear responsibility.

In our system, the city manager runs day-to-day operations. They oversee departments, budgets, and execution. For all practical purposes, they are the CEO of the city.

The mayor? Mostly ceremonial. Runs meetings, represents the city at events, and breaks tie votes. Which raises an uncomfortable question: could those duties be handled another way and save taxpayers money?

City council approves budgets, passes ordinances, and hires the city manager, but they don’t run departments or manage operations. They create laws, yet they aren’t responsible for enforcing them.

So when residents see police officers needing equipment or firefighters asking for resources, frustration builds quickly. Taxpayers naturally wonder why solutions move so slowly when so many elected officials are involved.

And that’s where confusion turns into distrust.

Because when something goes wrong, responsibility becomes blurry.

Residents blame the mayor, who doesn’t control operations.
Council points to administrative limits.
The city manager, the person running daily operations, isn’t elected by voters.

Everyone holds authority, yet no one appears fully accountable.

To be fair, this system wasn’t created by accident. The council-manager model was designed to prevent corruption and political favoritism (unfortunately, these still exist) by separating politics from administration. The idea was simple: let professionals run the city while elected officials set policy and represent the people.

On paper, it makes sense.

But in smaller cities facing tight budgets and aging infrastructure, the structure can start to feel disconnected from reality. Essential services fight for funding while residents struggle to understand who is responsible for fixing problems.

And maybe that’s the real issue.

We elect council members to support, represent, and solve problems within their wards and neighborhoods. If residents don’t see that happening, it’s fair to ask why those positions exist at all.

The question isn’t whether these roles should exist…. it’s whether the people holding them are visibly leading, communicating, and owning decisions.

Because government works best when responsibility is clear.

Right now, many residents are left wondering:

If the city manager runs everything… who exactly are we electing?

And more importantly, who answers when things don’t get done?

Pet Peeves — The Sequel Nobody Asked For

Every once in a while I revisit my list of daily irritations, mostly to confirm that I haven’t become irrational… and unfortunately, the evidence suggests I have not. The world simply keeps providing new material.

My newest pet peeve?
People who know exactly what needs to be done… and simply choose not to do it.

At the restaurant, every storage room, prep room, and office door has a sign that clearly reads: “KEEP SHUT.” Not hidden. Not vague. Not written in ancient hieroglyphics, however, sometimes written in Spanish! Big, readable, impossible-to-misunderstand English.

And yet, without fail, doors are left wide open like we’re hosting a grand tour.

This isn’t a training issue. It isn’t confusion. Everyone knows the rule. They walk past the sign, open the door, do what they need to do… and then apparently lose all memory of how doors work on the way out.

What fascinates me isn’t the mistake, everyone forgets sometimes. It’s the consistency. Different people. Different shifts. Same result. It’s as if responsibility evaporates the moment someone crosses the threshold.

Running a business teaches you a strange truth: the hardest part isn’t big decisions. It’s getting people to do small, obvious things repeatedly.

My second pet peeve lives online.

When I post a rant, a blog, or ask for information, there is always an army of people ready to offer advice…. many of whom clearly didn’t read the original post or the twenty comments explaining the situation already.

Now, some advice is genuinely helpful. I appreciate thoughtful input. But a large portion feels less like helping and more like an assumption that I somehow arrived at adulthood incapable of basic reasoning.

Somewhere along the way, social media created the belief that reading something requires responding to it. Whatever happened to simply thinking, “Interesting,” and continuing to scroll?

Yes, I could avoid the irritation by not posting at all. But I don’t believe the solution to annoyance is silence. Sharing thoughts, experiences, and even frustrations is part of being human.

Still, I can’t help but wonder when we decided that every opinion requires an audience and every audience member requires a microphone.