I stumbled upon a blog that was shared on Facebook this morning and was immediately intrigued. Not because of the title, but because the author is a priest at a Catholic church right here in my neck of the world. In fact, it is a church that many close friends attend. I myself have been a visitor in the congregation a number of times as a kid.

I know for a fact that, like in many churches, the St. Charles Borromeo Parish in Gladstone, Missouri is filled with kind, hard-working, middle-class Americans. They are salt-of-the-earth, family-oriented people who help out in their community, obey the law, and are just trying to get through the ups and downs of everyday life. They are like most of us. Simply put, they are just good folks. That’s why this blog post is so troubling to me. I encourage you to read it:


By Father Don Farnan

Like many citizens of earth, some days I battle the impulse to lash out at President Trump.  I usually hold it in check with a sarcastic remark or expression of bewilderment; my grief doesn’t even register on the scale of vitriolic criticism he receives daily from coast to coast and beyond our shores.  Granted, there are plenty of reasons to not like his morality or his personality for he is, at times, rude, vulgar, and insulting.  Many of us fear that this attitude is being normalized and trickles down to our homes, playing fields, boardrooms and classrooms.

Nevertheless, Donald Trump was elected president and is fulfilling commitments he made to voters, making America great again via a strong economy, low unemployment, and tough confrontation of terrorism.  We should be grateful for the ways he fights for our country and his desire to build it up.  At the same time, we can work toward other levels of greatness: how we treat one another with dignity, teach children respect and honor, sacrifice for causes greater than our own…

Like him or not, I think we all have to admit that Trump has been attacked and derided by people in ways never before seen for the simple reason that they don’t like him—and the dislike has escalated to hatred.  Even if he invites it through his brash tactics and unapologetic style, shouldn’t we be concerned about this level of hatred?  If we respond to bad behavior with bad behavior of our own, what does that say about the world we’re helping to shape?  Similar to attacking the president, a small minority of Catholics—some with power, prestige, and influence—target Pope Francis in ways unseen before.  I pray that this is not the way of the 21st Century.

I guess some people are simply hateful and compelled to tear down.  Hating leaders—hating at all—is not a good way to operate.  Doing our part to build up our civic community and faith community is.  It’s awfully draining to spread kindness when opposite forces are so strong.  I don’t have the answer, other than the one that Jesus gave.  In His time as in ours, hatred seems to overpower love because tearing down is much easier than building up.  But Christ gives us hope that it doesn’t have to be this way.  Kindness, goodness, generosity, compassion, respect for leaders, outreach to the marginalized, and doing our little part as best we can—these are the things that will make humanity great again and help us to build a society that, like Our Lord, can be a light to guide others in darkness.

I’ll conclude with Edgar A. Guest’s famous poem about building up and tearing down:                   I watched them tear a building down,

A gang of men in a busy town.

With a mighty heave and a lusty yell,

They swung a beam and a sidewall fell.

I said to the foreman, “Are these men as skilled

As the ones you’d hire if you had to build?”

He gave a laugh and said, “No, indeed!

Just a common laborer is all I need.

And I can wreck in a day or two

What it took the builders years to do.”

And I thought to myself as I went my way,

“Just which of these roles have I tried to play?

Am I a builder who works with care

Measuring life by the rule and square,

Or am I a wrecker as I walk this town

Content with the labor of tearing it down?”

I don’t know Father Don Farnan, but I get a sense that he truly means well by writing this piece. And, trust me, I agree with a lot of what he is saying. We do live in a world that seems to be filled with hate, and this is very unfortunate. However, I’m not sure if there is more hate in the world today, or if it has simply become more acceptable — and much easier — for people to make their voices heard. Social media, as well as the mainstream news media, has become a mountain top for people to shout from, their hateful words echoing down for all to hear, regardless of whether or not we want to listen.

Though there may not be more hate in America, there certainly seems to be a growing division among our people. This, of course, is largely a widening crevice between political party lines. Lies — or at least unverified “facts” — are rolled down both sides of this same mountain, and are equally damaging (and influential) to the bystanders below.

Sadly, it is President Trump who sits at the peak of the mountain, shouting as loudly as possible in an effort to make his voice the most audible. His endless name-calling and sucker-punching fuels the division and the hate on both sides of the mountain. I’m honestly not writing about President Trump, however.

Yes, I could debate Father Farnan’s belief that “Trump has been attacked and derided by people in ways never before seen for the simple reason that they don’t like him—and the dislike has escalated to hatred.” I would ask Father Farnan to go way, way back in his memory to the year 2009. This is when Barack Obama took office. Many people didn’t like him. In fact, many didn’t like him for one reason — the color of his skin. I have heard him called words that white people will never be forced to endure. Words like monkey, coon, and nigger, to name a few. Words that can’t be taken back. I ask you, Father, does this treatment qualify as hate? Our own current president (and countless others, of course) refused to believe that Obama was even an American. Why? Simply because Trump didn’t like him. But, honestly, I’m not writing about President Trump.

I will agree with Father Farnan that the economy is doing very well. A robust economy is critical to the well-being of the United States for many reasons that aren’t often considered, including lower crime rates, healthier citizens, and even longer life spans. But I would also remind him that many regulations put in place with the sole intention of helping to protect our environment, our people, and our country have been abruptly stopped by Trump, with seemingly little or no thought about future ramifications. I hope this all works out in the end… But, honestly, I’m not writing about Trump.

I’m writing because I don’t want the good people of the United States to become accepting of “wrongs” because there are some “rights.” I don’t want us to become okay with “good enough.” Complacency leads to failure. Father Farnan asks, “Shouldn’t we be concerned about this level of hatred (towards Trump)?” But I ask you, Father, shouldn’t we be concerned with the level of hatred coming from the President of the United States of America? And this is not fake news, but words coming straight from the mouth (or fingers) of Trump.

Again, I believe Father Farnan’s intentions are good. He is encouraging “kindness, goodness, generosity, compassion…outreach to the marginalized, and doing our little part as best we can,” all things that I’m a firm believer in. However, he also asks us to respect our leaders. While I will avoid being hateful, I refuse to respect a leader like Trump. Where would we be today if our Founding Fathers had respected King George? Blind respect of a president is not only incredibly careless, but it is extremely unpatriotic.

We must avoid complacency or we’ll never improve. We must not become so tolerant that hate (even when we abhor it) is overlooked. I see good people — people I love and respect — making a conscious decision to simply look the other way every single day. Father Farnan ends his post with a poem encouraging us to be builders, which is a wonderful ideology, but two decades in the construction industry has taught me that skilled builders must keep a close eye on every small detail.

The longer we, as a nation, look the other way, the harder it will be to regain our focus. What is taking place while we are told to only see the bright side? What will we allow our leaders to get away with tomorrow? Father Farnan, please keep spreading your message of kindness and goodness, but please don’t ask us to become tolerant of a hateful man who seems intent on dividing our nation. Please don’t support a person who is continually tearing down what you are trying to build.

Please don’t look away.


When the Houston Astros scored three runs in the seventh inning of yesterday’s game, giving them a four-run cushion over our Kansas City Royals, I truly believed we were done. I was so mad. We’ve been too good to lose this early. It’s not fair to these guys. It’s not fair to KC, I thought. Then the realization hit that the season was about to be over, and my anger was overtaken by complete sadness.

The baseball season is long, maybe too long. A month of preseason, followed by 162 regular season games can be absolutely brutal when the team you love is having a(nother) dismal year. Any fan of the Royals knows this all too well. With each new season comes renewed hope; hope that is typically crushed long before summer officially begins. But that wasn’t the case this year. Our Royals stormed out of the gates winning their first seven games, and they never looked back. We had seven All-Stars (counting Alex Gordon, who was left off the roster due to injury), we easily won our division by 12 games, and ended the season with the American League’s best record and home-field advantage throughout the postseason.

Many media know-it-alls predicted us to be average at best. They said last year was just a case of catching lightning in a bottle, that we shouldn’t have gone as far as we did then, and certainly didn’t have the talent to repeat as American League champs, win the Central Division, or even make the playoffs as a wild card team. We didn’t listen. We never had a doubt. We were so close last year, and we have unfinished business.

I say “we” because I’m talking about all of us. Not just the team, but this town. A relatively small city of passionate, down-to-earth Midwesterners who have spent every night over the past six months huddled around a TV or radio, giving our full attention not just to a team, but to the individual players who have become like family members. It’s not just about a love of baseball, but a love of the people who make up this team we call our own.

The players fit this town. They are no longer crusty, aging veterans looking for a few paychecks before hanging up their cleats. No, this is a bunch of mostly twenty-somethings who have cut their teeth together. They have shared more failures than successes. Yet somehow, against all probability, they have become winners in a town that is not accustomed to winning. It is obvious that these guys truly care about each other and the fans. It’s infectious and undeniable. They wear “Kansas City” on their chests, and carry Kansas City on their backs. Better yet, maybe we are carrying them. 

So when we found ourselves down by four going into the eighth inning yesterday, I admit I was angry. I was appalled by the Astros’ cocky celebrating, knowing of course that they were acting no differently than we did during our playoff run last season. I was mad at the announcers, I was upset with our players for seeming so passive and not being more aggressive. I was really acting quite selfish, but I suppose that’s probably normal for die-hard fans when the team they have invested time, money and sincere love in must finally meet their fate. I’m not used to the end coming sooner than expected.

The end…this is what I actually wanted to avoid. This was the source of my sadness.

In twenty years, I may not remember the plays and games that made this season so special. I doubt I will be able to recall our record, any statistics, or maybe even all of the players on the team. But I will remember the many nights spent simply hanging out with my wife and two children watching the Royals and talking about baseball — and about life. It isn’t easy to find something the entire family genuinely enjoys doing together, but watching our boys in blue has been that something all season long. From the first game, when my then four-year-old daughter sadly asked, “Where is Billy Butler?” to high-fiving, hugging, and hollering with joy yesterday, spending our evenings with the Royals has become the family routine. Losses were like a kick in the gut, while victories left us going to bed fulfilled and happy. We didn’t know what to do during off days or rain-outs. What will we do when it’s finally over? I don’t want it to end. Amazingly, it didn’t end yesterday. Just as in the wild card game last year, an incredible comeback in the eighth inning has given us the opportunity to continue rooting on our team, even if for only one more game. I feel very guilty for doubting such a relentless, tenacious group.

These Royals’ players, starting in the second half of last season, have not only been a source of joy for my family, but have transformed our city into a town that believes not just in our team, but in each other. Baseball — something that seems like it should be so meaningless in the grand scheme of things — has actually helped to inspire and unite us. The Royals have made Kansas City proud. This transcends baseball, and is an example of how beneficial and powerful a game can truly be. I’m not being overly romantic, but am just stating a fact. My wish, and belief, is that this pride will carry on after baseball, regardless of how the season ultimately ends. Until then, like the rest of my fellow Kansas Citians, I will be on the edge of my seat, making sure to enjoy each pitch. And I will never give up hope.

Beautiful Bodies gives their all to a sparse but appreciative crowd.

Despite beautiful fall weather, a solid line-up of local and national bands, a good venue in the heart of downtown, and a great cause, Fed Up Fest Kansas City’s inaugural event was a disappointment.

Presented by 96.5 The Buzz and Harvesters (along with several other sponsors), the festival was intended to raise money and awareness for Harvesters, the local food bank that distributes food and other household goods to thousands of people in 26 counties around the region. While it is too early to tally the proceeds, I can tell you that the turnout was not good. Based on the size of the crowd at the all day event, I would be surprised if ticket sales covered operating costs.

Some of these costs include money spent on marketing gurus who promised to provide festival-goers with “food trucks, cold beverages, and fresh conversation.” A total of four trucks made it out to serve food, and beer/liquor could be purchased. Unfortunately, you could not take alcohol purchased on the west side of the festival (an area with yard games and the “Homegrown” stage) into Crossroads KC (where the main stage was located). This would have been nice to know, since there was a beverage stand located right outside the Crossroads KC entrance. My friends and I were not happy to have to quickly down our $6 cans of beer so that we could get in to catch an act on the main stage. As for “fresh conversation,” well, I didn’t hear much discussion about helping the hungry. I also admit that I didn’t do any talking.

The festival did offer some very good music, highlighted by Kansas City bands Hembree and Beautiful Bodies (a local band making a name for themselves with national audiences), and Knox Hamilton, an up-and-coming indie act out of Little Rock. Unfortunately the late-ish start time (sadly, 10:45 is fairly late for those of us with baby-sitters), dropping temperature, and dwindling crowd caused my group to throw in the towel before the headliner, Wolf Alice.

My biggest disappointment was the lack of information about making donations to Harvesters. I couldn’t find anything on the Fed Up Fest website, social media or through festival advertising that mentioned bringing non-perishable food items. While there were not many people in attendance, asking for canned goods in addition to the price of admission could have really benefited those in need.

The idea of using music, food and drink to help support and raise awareness for a great organization like Harvesters is very noble. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite come together, and Fed Up Fest was left hungry for a larger audience. I hope organizers – and KC residents – will give it another go next year. With some minor changes, it has the potential to be both a fun and worthwhile event. Until then, you can find information about helping Harvesters year-round at harvesters.org.