Friend or Spectator?

I’m not exactly sure why Facebook was created. I suppose I could look it up, but I always assumed the idea was pretty simple: connect people. Keep in touch with family. Share life’s moments. Stay connected with friends.

Somewhere along the way, though, social media changed.

Now everyone wants to send a friend request or click “Follow.” The question is… why?

Is it because we’re genuinely interested in staying connected? Or have we become digital spectators, quietly watching everyone else’s lives unfold from the sidelines?

Let’s be honest, we’ve become a society that overshares. Vacations, dinners, political opinions, pets, workouts, birthdays, random Tuesday thoughts… it’s all out there. But if you’re going to be part of someone’s online world, shouldn’t you actually participate in it?

Every year, sometimes twice a year, I clean house on my social media. I scroll through my friends list and ask myself a simple question:

Why are you here?

You never like a post.
You never comment.
You never share anything.
You never start a conversation.

So… what’s the point?

Are you just keeping tabs on me? Watching from the shadows? Waiting for something interesting to happen?

Trust me, I’m really not that fascinating.

To me, social media was never supposed to be a one-way mirror. It was supposed to be social. That word actually means something.

Interaction. Conversation. Connection.

If you’re going to be part of my online world, then be part of it. Say hello. Leave a comment. Disagree with me. Laugh at one of my terrible posts. Tell me about your day.

Do something.

Otherwise, you’re not really participating… you’re just observing.

And here’s the funny part. If you truly want to keep in touch with someone, Facebook probably isn’t even the best way to do it.

Send a text. Pick up the phone. Meet for coffee.

Actually have a conversation.

I wrote another blog a while back about how we’ve forgotten how to communicate. Social media gave us thousands of “friends,” yet somehow we talk to fewer people than ever before.

Maybe it’s time we stopped collecting friends like baseball cards and started investing in actual relationships.

Because in the end, Facebook doesn’t make people social.

People do.

The Things We Don’t Know We Miss

Tradition.

According to Webster’s Dictionary, it’s “a system of beliefs or behaviors passed down within a group or society with symbolic meaning or special significance, originating in the past.”

That’s a nice definition.

But I think tradition is something much simpler.

It’s something you don’t realize you’ve been missing… until you see it.

On July 4, 2025, I stopped by a friend’s house. He was roasting a whole lamb over an open fire. Family and friends filled the backyard. There was food everywhere, conversations in every corner, and laughter that seemed to belong there. It was a great day.

A year later, on July 4, 2026, I found myself back in that same backyard.

This time, I paid attention.

Friends. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins, some who had driven from as far away as the Carolinas. Dogs running through the yard while the adults picked up conversations they’d probably been continuing for decades. Even the early morning ritual of getting the fire started for the lamb had become part of the tradition. It wasn’t just cooking—it was ceremony.

That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t just a cookout. This was family history happening in real time.

It instantly reminded me of my own childhood.

My family had traditions too. Holiday dinners. Summer cookouts. Gatherings where everyone knew where they belonged without anyone having to send out invites.

Somewhere along the way… those traditions faded. People passed away. Others moved. Life happened.

And I couldn’t help asking myself a difficult question. Did I let our traditions disappear too?

Could I have done more to keep everyone together?

I don’t know if there’s an answer to that. Maybe traditions naturally evolve. Maybe they end. Maybe they simply wait for someone willing to start a new one.

As for friends, I found myself wondering something else.

What kind of friend do you have to be before you’re considered part of someone’s tradition?

Not just invited once… But expected every year. The kind of person whose absence would be noticed.

I hope I’m becoming that kind of friend.

Because if there’s one tradition I know I’ll gladly keep, it’s spending every Fourth of July in that backyard with good people, great conversation, unbelievable food, and enough laughter to make you forget about the weather.

Well… almost.

A brief summer rain couldn’t stop America’s 250th birthday celebration.

The rosemary on that clams, however… That almost sent me running.

Maybe I don’t have many traditions of my own anymore. Maybe I don’t even know how to start one.

Life gets busy. Families spread out. Friends juggle careers, kids, and commitments. Building something that lasts year after year feels harder than ever.

But watching someone else’s tradition reminded me that these moments don’t just happen.

Someone decides they’re worth repeating.

Year after year. Until one day, nobody remembers who started it.

They just remember that it’s what the family does.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

So if you’ve got a tradition… a weekly poker night, a monthly dinner, an annual cookout, or some quirky family ritual you’ve kept alive, hold onto it.

You may not realize it, but you’re creating memories that someone else will one day wish they still had.

And if you’re looking for someone to help keep the tradition alive…

Don’t be surprised if I accidentally crash your party.

Facebook Friends List: An Explanation

I’ve talked before about what social media should be versus what it’s turned into.

With the recent wave of friend requests, it feels like the right time to explain my “80 Friends Rule.”

Here’s the deal.

Most of my Facebook friends are immediate family and a small circle of real-life connections. And honestly, if you have my phone number but choose to message me on Facebook… we need to have a different conversation. Use the number.

On the flip side, if you’re actively in my life… regular contact, real conversations, you already know what’s going on with me. You don’t need Facebook to keep up.

Now here’s where it gets interesting.

If you’re not in my inner circle but still enjoy my content, engage with my posts, and actually participate, then yeah, you might make the cut. But if you’re just quietly lurking? No likes, no comments, no interaction… you’re probably won’t be around long.

Facebook, to me, isn’t a spectator sport. It’s a participation platform.

And let’s address the wildest scenario… if you send me a friend request, then see me out somewhere like Kroger and have no idea who I am? Immediate deletion. No trial period. No appeal. Straight to unfriend.

Now, about the number.

At one point, I went through my list and landed on 80 people I genuinely couldn’t justify removing. That became the benchmark: family, close friends, and a few work-related connections who need access.

Anyone beyond that? Rotating roster.

I’m currently a little over 80, but give it a few days, that number corrects itself.

So here’s the deal. If you’re close to me, you don’t need Facebook to stay connected.

If you enjoy my content and engage with it, you’re welcome here.

If you’re just passing through or unsure why you’re here… that usually answers itself.

And if you were here and now you’re not. it’s not personal.

It just means you’re someone in my life who doesn’t need Facebook to know me.

If you do want to keep up with my blogs, you can always subscribe (for free) at https://baz0157.home.blog… no friend request required.

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.

What Is Depression?

Depression is defined as a serious mood disorder marked by persistent sadness and loss of interest. It affects how we think, feel, and function. Fatigue. Sleep issues. Appetite changes. Hopelessness. Brain fog. Difficulty concentrating.

Cool. Clinical. Accurate.

And also? That definition describes a hell of a lot of us.

But here’s the real question:

Can you actually identify what depresses you?

For me, depression looks like losing a health battle I didn’t ask to fight. Kidney disease has a way of quietly rearranging your life while pretending it’s no big deal.

Change… yeah, change is depressing. Losing porch nights because life shifted. Losing control of my business while still being responsible for it. Teaching, explaining, demonstrating expectations over and over… only to watch nothing change.

Depression is living somewhere you hate.

It’s having a child who wants to live with you, and being powerless to change his current situation.

It’s making money you can’t enjoy or use.

It’s worrying about a future that keeps getting closer instead of clearer.

It’s going to bed at 5 a.m. and waking up at 7 a.m. like your brain hates you.

To most people, these things sound small.

To me, they stack up. They linger. They haunt.

Self-diagnosed? Sure.

Still real? Absolutely.

So how do you cure depression?

How do you shut down the brain activity that manufactures darkness no amount of light seems to touch? Is the answer the very thing that depresses me, change? Maybe. But where? How? How do you change things you don’t control?

Do you stop caring?

Stop showing up?

Stop listening?

I don’t have those answers. What I do know is this: I make micro changes. Probably the wrong ones sometimes. But they’re the ones that let me survive my days.

For years, I preached that mental health is no joke. That we all need to do better. Somewhere along the way while trying to be strong, helpful, responsible…. I lost sight of my own happiness.

Now I move through life like an invisible observer. Watching everyone else unfold while I hover quietly on the outside.

Depression is all of this. And more.

I don’t have control of it , but I tug at the shirt tails of the things I can reach.

So what depresses you?

Do you feel in control… or like it’s slipping through your fingers too?

Some days the fight feels heavy. Overwhelming. Endless.

When that happens, don’t aim for perfection. Aim for tomorrow.

Make micro changes.

Find small peace.

Push just far enough to get there.

And then do it again.

What Sparks My Admiration

What is something others do that sparks your admiration?

There are a few things people do that hit me right in the soft part of my heart…. the part I pretend I don’t have, but we all know is there.

1. Family-Oriented People

Whenever I see those families out at dinner, laughing, talking, kids half-behaving and half-wild, I can’t help but stop and watch for a moment. There’s something about that tight-knit family energy that sparks admiration in me. Maybe a little jealousy, sure, but mostly admiration.

It’s that classic, picture-perfect “white picket fence” vibe, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s together. And even if I’ll never have that exact version in my own life, I love seeing people who do. There’s beauty in the simplicity of showing up for each other.

2. Humble, Successful People

Then there are the quiet giants… the ones who’ve built something, achieved something, earned something… and still treat everyone with kindness. The “treat the janitor the same as the CEO” kind of people.

Those people have my full attention. They’re the kind of people who remind me the world doesn’t need more loud victories, it needs more quiet dignity. I try to model myself after them, and honestly? I treat people with respect pretty damn well. Sometimes better than I treat myself.

3. Focused and Disciplined People

And finally… the focused ones. The disciplined ones. The people who hold their goals like a compass and somehow balance work, family, life, stress, and dreams without dropping everything on the floor.

Watching someone stay committed, whether it’s to their career, their family, or their own personal growth is inspiring. It reminds me that staying locked in is a daily choice, not a personality trait.

The Life I Built… and the One I Lost in the Process

Today I woke up, and for the first time, I think I finally know what it feels like to lose your mind.

Could I actually be going crazy? Or am I just caught in a life rut so deep it swallowed me whole and now I can’t remember how to climb out?

Growing up, we’re told “life is short, don’t let it pass you by.”

Well, I didn’t. I lived a damn good life for a long time.

Maybe not by everyone’s standards, but by mine, it was wild, adventurous, unpredictable. Every weekend meant something new, somewhere new.

Now, it feels like I’m stuck in the movie Groundhog Day.

Every morning I wake up and live the same script. I order the same beer for the bar, pick up the same liquor order, and walk my dog through the same neighborhood…. three, sometimes six miles a day. That’s about forty miles a month of déjà vu.

People say your early years are for being reckless, for chasing things, failing at things, figuring out who you are. Then you’re supposed to build a life, settle down, start the family, take the vacations, eat the dinners together, and actually live.

I want that.

I want normalcy. I want family vacations and dinners around a table that isn’t covered in receipts or shift schedules. I want to see places I haven’t seen yet, and do it all with my wife.

But what I want feels galaxies away from what I have.

I figured out success in business….. it has its highs and lows, sure, but it’s good. What I didn’t figure out was how to make it self-sustaining. Someone always has to be there. The business can’t run without a heartbeat inside its walls.

And that someone is usually me.

So I’m trapped. Trapped in the world I built, the dream I chased, the thing I thought would bring me freedom, but instead holds me prisoner.

I watch other people with other careers, other lives, and they all seem to share something I don’t: time.

Time for long weekends. Time for family meals. Time to breathe.

My wife and I trade shifts like ships passing in night. One home, one at work, keeping the machine alive.

That sacrifice? It’s what’s slowly unspooling me. Because when you see others actually living, laughing at dinner, taking trips, making memories…. you start to wonder when you stopped doing the same.

And that’s what eats at me. That’s what drives me crazy.

I’ve got money in the bank, cash in my pocket, but I can’t spend it, because I can’t go anywhere. I have more cancelled trips this year due to work than I actually have planned.

So where do I go from here?

Because I sure as hell don’t feel like I’m living life to the fullest.

Most nights, I just sit in the garage watching hockey, surrounded by the ghosts of friends past. The ones who got out, who moved on, who somehow figured out how to make peace with the ticking clock.

And me? I’m still here.

Walking the same streets.

Buying the same beer.

Trying to remember how to feel alive again.

Stop Judging, Start Living

The Villain in the Mirror

Nothing has changed. I’m still a nonbeliever…. in God, religion, all of it. What I do believe is that someone sat down, wrote a book called The Bible, and poured in some pretty solid advice.

But let’s be honest… it’s still a campfire story that millions of people decided to hitch their wagon to. And you know what? I get it. People need to believe in something.

Here’s the kicker though, if you’ve ever read the Bible, whether as a believer or just for curiosity’s sake, you’ve probably seen Matthew 7:1

“Do not judge, or you too shall be judged.”

Now, THAT’S a verse worth tattooing across society’s forehead. Before you bash someone, talk behind their back, or start some petty rumor… stop. Take a second to look in the mirror. And don’t just see the shiny version of yourself you want to believe in. Look hard enough to see the flaws, the shadows, the villain you don’t admit you are.

Because here’s the truth: if we spent half as much time lifting people up as we do tearing them down, we’d live in a completely different world. Better neighborhoods. Stronger communities. Happier humans.

And newsflash, different isn’t bad. People come from every walk of life. Different beliefs. Different styles. Different looks. Even identical twins aren’t carbon copies.

I’m not pretending I’m some influencer with millions of readers. Most of you won’t even see this. But if even one person does, and decides to stop judging and start helping, then the ripple begins. Positivity spreads the same way negativity does… but only if we let it.

So here’s my challenge: stop worrying about who doesn’t act like you, think like you, or live like you. That doesn’t give you the right to drag them down.

Be better. Be kinder. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find you’re actually living a happier life.

“God’s Plan”… Or Your Plan?

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts lately about people wondering what God’s plan is for them, or crediting (or blaming) every twist in their life on some mysterious divine roadmap.

But, hear me out….. what if there is no plan? Not trying to start a holy war amongst friends, but….

What if there’s no cosmic blueprint with your name on it, no puppet strings pulling you toward success or failure? What if you are the one holding the pen, writing your own damn story?

It takes more than prayer and patience to build the life you want. It takes thought, desire, and a whole lot of trust in yourself. You want a better job? Apply. Want to get healthier? Put in the work. Want to find love? Go where the people are and take a shot.

To seriously believe that a higher power made you fail or made you succeed, that’s pure hokum. If you believe God is paving the way for you, fine… but at some point, you have to step off the prayer rug, put on some boots, and start walking. Otherwise, you’ll eventually become a pile of dust waiting for that sign!

Because ultimately?

It’s not divine intervention that gets you there.

It’s you.

Porch Nights and Empty Chairs

Summer’s ending. The air is shifting… cooler, quieter. The night sky lingers a little longer, and everything starts to slow down. It’s this time of year I remember a ritual I used to love.

After a long day at work, I’d pull into my driveway and glance to the left. Like clockwork, there he’d be, my neighbor, posted up on his porch like a guardian of the neighborhood, cigar in hand and a grin that said, “You bringing the bourbon, or am I?”

I’d park, grab a drink, and make my way over. We’d sit for hours pouring whiskey, puffing cigars, and solving the world’s problems one smoky breath at a time. The bottle would slowly disappear, and eventually, so would we… off to bed, satisfied from the kind of conversation you only get with great friends.

But life, like bourbon, goes fast when you’re not paying attention.

My neighbor’s moved south now. His porch sits empty. Mine might as well. The ritual’s gone. No more late-night debates, no more shared smokes or spontaneous toasts to “just making it through the damn week.” The porch is still there, but the people are not. And porch nights without people? Just wood and weather.

I’ve accepted the change. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I still sit outside some nights, music low, drink in hand. But it’s quieter now. I wonder if those kinds of neighborly bonds even exist anymore. Is it just me? Is sitting on the porch and chatting with your neighbor a thing of the past? Some forgotten relic from when people actually wanted to be present instead of buried in their phones or hiding behind garage doors?

We’ve thought about selling the house. A fresh start, a new chapter. But finding something affordable is one thing, finding a community is another. Will the next neighborhood have porch people? Or just cold stares and HOA warnings for Coda’s excess barking.

Maybe I’m just stuck in the past. But the past??? Man, it had cigars, laughter, and the kind of connection that made even a Wednesday night feel like something worth toasting to.

So I sit, I sip, and I listen for ghosts of conversations past. Change is inevitable. I know. But damn, I miss when change wasn’t so lonely.