Do you have an Uncle Buck in your life? You know, that person who has offered support and mentoring throughout your life? Someone who's been there through thick and thin, giving you advice and a good ass chewing if so needed? If you do, consider yourself lucky. I have my own Uncle Buck and although I don't see or speak to him as much as I should, I know he's there for me if I need him. My Uncle Buck has taught me a great deal about myself and personal expectations; I attribute a lot of my success to his careful guidance.

I found my Uncle Buck about 22 years ago. He saw me through the days of mullets, spandex, bad boyfriends, and college applications. He started me on my career path and then maintained a thumb on the pressure point of my professional existance. He didn't sugarcoat his views nor did he hide the ugly truths of the profession I chose to pursue. He was just there; a solid rock in the ocean of uncertainty that I once faced as a young adult. Ok, I'm getting way too flowery with my word pictures, but I think you get what I mean and how important he was to me growing up.

If you haven't discovered your own Uncle Buck, try to find one. It's nice to have someone who's there to be a sounding board as well as a cheerleader minus the pom poms and annoying chants. Or better yet, become an Uncle Buck or Aunt Buckette to someone else. Find someone to help and become their biggest advocate. It will make them and you a better person because of it.

KING HENRY V

What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.