Every 4th Sunday of each month, I am the piano accompaniment during the little church services held at Baywood Court, a senior center/retirement home located across the street from my parents' home in Castro Valley.

I volunteered for the duty around 10 years ago... maybe longer ago, I can't remember. I did it then for more than one reason. It pleased my parents, and perhaps God too, if he couldn't see my true heart - I was really doing it for my own purposes, and not for his; it forced me to make an obligatory trek home at least once a month, to drop in on my family; it helped keep fresh in my mind the option of religion; it made me feel good to be using my talents for a cause, to put smiles on people's faces, expecting nothing tangible in return...

None of the above reasons are good enough anymore. I can't stand to listen to the sermons. I can't stand the hypocrisy... indirectly promoting religion while my own heart and mind do not belong to God. My music sightreading has gone to pot, and I won't allow myself present half-assed, half-hearted performances. I don't need any additional reasons to drive the 30 miles to visit my parents at least once a month....

And it disturbs me too much to see the old people... the mobile ones feebly using walkers, those in wheelchairs hardly conscious, unable to do anything for themselves. Such a contrast they are to who I am now. I can't bear to imagine myself in their states. I can't bear to see people at the brink of death... wasting away, in pain, ignored, useless, mindless, secluded in a retirement home... Makes a shorter life due to death while still relatively healthy seem to be a more attractive option.

So now I have to write up a letter explaining why I won't be volunteering at Baywood Court next month or ever after. I don't have a "good" excuse other than I simply don't want to do it anymore... which is why it's taken me this long to quit. I hate writing this type of letter... and I sure do hope this wasn't the one thing keeping God from condemning me to Hell at the end of my life. (sarcasm, of course)