May God bless Fr. Brady in his new role
as Parochial Administrator of St. Stan’s

“For everything there is a season… and a soundtrack.” – Ecclesiastes-ish

One of the surprising ways we come to know one another is through music. Songs have a way of embedding themselves in our memories and hearts—they help us celebrate, grieve, laugh, and remember. They mark key moments, link memories, and remind us of certain times in our lives. All of us have songs we love, even if it’s just in our heads, songs that play alongside the big and small moments that shape who we are.

As the new administrator of St Stanislaus, I thought a fun way to introduce myself is to share a few songs from my own playlist over the next few weeks—not the ones I necessarily play in church, but the ones that bring back stories, stir memories, or just make me smile. Some of these songs aren’t exactly sacred (a couple might even make you raise an eyebrow), but they are part of the story God has written in my life so far.

Each song comes with a little story. Some are humorous. Some are humbling. A few are deeply personal. But together, they give a glimpse into how I became the priest standing before you—and maybe they’ll spark some of your own memories too.

This Week’s Playlist Choice:

The monkeys theme song is not a great artistic piece of music but it’s a lot of fun – a light-hearted piece that serves as a musical calling card, introducing the band’s carefree, offbeat vibe right from the start. It was one of the first theme songs to function as a character introduction on TV. It became something of an anthem when I was a kid.

Early in my time at the seminary, a class competition was held.  Each class year at the seminary was asked to compete against each other in a three-mile run around the seminary grounds. Our best runner had just sprained his knee, so we had no chance. Rather than giving up, I had the bright idea to recreate the Monkees’ opening credits, where they push a bed through town.

We couldn’t find a wheeled bed, but we did find a wheelchair. We sat him in it, gave him a newspaper and a cigar, and entered the race. When we passed the judges on the front road, we were in the lead pack.  Then we took a shortcut around the back and rejoined the race near the stands. We placed—but no medal.