Sitting in Sunday school I almost cringe every time that Peter would raise his hand. He never said anything that was wrong, offense or even inappropriate, but it was the way that he would talk. His voice would immediately increase in pitch as he would talk. It would become very soft and airy, and the content would always turn to some mission story. I have nothing against return missionaries or having them impart of their wisdom, but the way that they go about it make them seem like they are the most holy person in the room. It seems almost degrading just to be in their presence and hear them speak. I don’t want to have to strain to hear them speak, and then I don’t even want to participate in the lesson anymore because I don’t have anything that can top them. Church over for me as soon as he starts talking because he is always going to have the final word, so there is no point in even trying. His intentions aren't bad, but it seems more like he have something to prove. Missions change people’s hearts, minds, and souls, but why does it change the voices so many missionaries as well?
Without every fast Sunday Brother Falcone would slowly make his way to stand with his hunched back, slicked back hair and black pin-striped suit. It was inevitable that he would give a monologue about his Italian heritage and growing up in the slums on the east coast. The story seemed to be the same every week with very little variation. He would talk very slowly without looking out at the congregation, but instead he would stare at the base of the microphone while fiddling with the actual mic with one hand. The mic would making popping and scratching noises has his wingers would continue to connect with the mics surface and he would speak very softly, almost a whisper for a very long time. Then he would slowly make his way back to his seat. No one ever complained, but no one was ever really surprised by his reoccurring appearance each month. I don’t ever remember seeing him on any other Sundays, but without a doubt he would be there on fast Sundays. I always thought it was cool that we had a mafia member straight out of movie in my ward. He was so cool that everyone was afraid to tell to go sit down because he would be talking for too long. I was living life on the edge somehow through Brother Falcone making his appearances in church.