So Jonathon visited our favorite Cigar Bar in Paducah the other day. As he described the pleasures of the wafting smoke and lovely live music, I reminisced about my last visit. The furniture is cigar bar quality, and the ashtrays are majestic. There is a Skee Ball table that Aaron and Jonathon enjoy playing.

When I am in the Cigar Bar, I am lost in my thoughts. It is a time machine. The Vintage look and atmosphere remind me of a Noir Movie from the 1940s. I also can see President Kennedy and Frank Sinatra reminiscing and plotting over a fine Cuban Cigar.

Cigars are made to be savored. You do not hurry a good cigar. There is time to muse and contemplate the past and future.

‘Hello Frank, come on in, I have your cigar cut and a Johnnie Walker Gold is on the way,’ JFK said. ‘Nikita says he will meet us here…he loves cigars,’ JFK noted with a wry grin. ‘He wants to talk about Cuba and how we get out of the mess we are in,’ JFK continued. ‘I told Nikita that our worries will go up in smoke at my favorite Cigar Bar,’ JFK laughed. ‘He told me that the Politburo is on his ass and is crawling inside,’ Jack winked. ‘He is bringing a proposal, and I will sign it if I like it,’ Jack said. ‘I left Bobby at home with the kids and Ethel, he is well intentioned but gets on my nerves,’ Jack noted with a long puff of his Cigar.

‘Jack, I have been looking all over for you. McNamara is apoplectic,’ Bobby said. ‘He told me that we did not have long and General LeMay was ready to start dropping bombs,’ Bobby said. ‘Of course, LeMay is always ready to drop bombs,’ Bobby mused. ‘Nikita is coming through the door with a grimace,’ Bobby noted.

‘Jack, you did not tell me Frank was going to be here. I love his singing,’ Nikita said with a smile. ‘I am ready for my Cuban Cigar and a Vodka and to hear Frank sing Fly Me To The Moon which is what we are going to do before you Jack,’ Nikita took a long drag from his cigar. ‘Frank is the Boss in my estimation,’ Nikita laughed heartily!

Friday has arrived again. The neighbors are clearing brush. Mylo barked, and the little boy barked back. He is working like a little champ. Our trash removal is over a week late. Their Trash Day has been a movable feast for months. Usually from Thursday to Saturday. Now we have passed Thursday twice and no big truck. In the halcyon days of my youth, our trash man collected his money at the front door once a month. He was a pleasant old man, and he announced who he was when he knocked, ‘Garbage Man!’

We move forward in some ways and take two steps back in others. Now we are thrilled to hear a human voice on the other end of the phone. Sometimes it is hard to tell AI from a human. For efficiency’s sake, we have traded humanity. It was not long ago that a checkout person took care of our purchases in the grocery or department store. Lowes in our town has no checkout staff. You are basically on your own with minimal help. The AI experts all agree that millions of jobs will be lost to the emerging technology. They go on to say that people will have to be retrained for open jobs. This has the ring of a Marshall Plan that has not seemingly started.

The future is a bit frightening in its rapid change. We seek the familiar. Brooks Pond on a June morning. The Mowers are mowing. Plans for a pre-4th of July Cookout Saturday. Jonathon bought Brats. The unchangebul is comforting. Mr. Beaver is working on his Damn. The sound of mowing and weedeating is fun if your are not the one doing the work.

‘Welcome all come in and kick your shoes off and take your coasts off and throw them in the corner,’ Willie said with a big smile. ‘We are going to play a few numbers for you,’ Willie continued. ‘My friends are passing around some fine smoking if you know what I mean, Willie winked. ‘I know the news has been upsetting but we are not here to think about that,’ Willie strumed a cord on his well worn guitar. He sang the song I’ll Fly Away and tears came to many eyes in the audience.

‘We interupt this program to tell you that Russia has fired 100 nuculear warheads at the United States…all should take cover immeadiately,’ the newscaster said through a quavering voice.

Willie lay on the stage with wires protruding from his chest and head…

Mylo is surveying his surroundings. When he likes what he sees, he dances; when he does not like what he sees, he emits a low grumble/growl. He knows who he is and where he ought to be. Mylo is in the world and likes it. So it goes for us occupants of our Earth Home. The sooner we settle in, the better we will like it. A sense of place is rooted in our hearts. I live in Southern Illinois and find it captivating. A land of lakes and rolling hills. The Woods is just down the road. A pond in my backyard. A Great Blue Heron that fishes the pond, a Beaver, and a Bull Frog Quartet.

We seek satisfaction in places that have none. Doing what makes you happy is the key. When I retired, many folks said I would have time to fish. I do not enjoy fishing. Others commented that I would surely get another job to have something to do with my time. I am as busy as I want to be. I loved the honesty of Sam Goldman, who was retiring as Chancellor of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale, when he told me that he did not like to travel. Many say that travel is their goal when they retire. We travel and have done so a lot for the first few years of retirement. Travel is fun if you are into it. It takes work while you are having fun. It is expensive. Leave your preconceived notions of where you are going at home; you are in for a surprise. The same problems you left home with are waiting for you when you arrive. Wherever we traveled in Europe, people wanted to visit America. The stars in their eyes revealed they perceived the United States as a land flowing with milk and honey. A friend said regarding Israel that it was very hot…it is a desert. I had a long conversation with a disabled man in Edinburgh who said his life’s goal was to visit the United States. His Visa had not been approved, so he would try again. A fellow in the United Kingdom said that he was afraid to visit the States because there are so many tornadoes.

You can be happy as a pocket on a shirt if you enjoy being a pocket. Of late, there are many in our country who have lost their sense of place. They want us to have a national identity that squares with what they were taught by their elders as they grew up. If those around them wear cowboy hats and blue jeans, that is the attire they want to see. When they refer to true Americans, they mistakenly refer to people like them. It is a bit like the paintings and depictions of Jesus as a white man with soft features.

Home is where you make it. You carry it with you. You can not find it in a travel book. It is not in a national identity that agrees with your bias. It is acceptance. Home is hope. Home has an ethereal quality. It is difficult to hold in your hands; it is meant for your heart.

The Old Man was on a mission. Get MJ’s prescription and soup for lunch. When he exited the Subaru, he had to hold on to his outback hat with both hands. The Wind was surreal. People’s groceries were blowing about, and chaos ensued. We look different in the Wind. Our hair blows all over, and our clothes flap around us. The trees bend left and then right. If they were not flexible, they would break. The power is out in many places due to too much wind. Wind creates a dream-like state. Interesting yet frenetic. Hard to open the Subaru door and to hold it on the road. Wind governs much of our lives.

Winds of Change surround us. We are buffeted and blown around. We do our best to look our dignified selves, but the wind does not cooperate. It is hard to appear profound when your hair is in your eyes. Government is affected by the Wind of Change and political opportunity. We will bomb Iran and its weak government will crumble in a matter of days,’ the President says. ‘People of Iran, take to the streets and reclaim your government. This will probably be your last time for generations,’ the President says. ‘Iran was two weeks from a nuclear bomb, the President says. ‘We have won a great victory, the Strait of Hormuz is open, the President says.

‘Mr President, wasn’t the Strait of Hormuz open before you declared war?’ the Reporter asks.

‘Wind makes common sense not common,’ Neva J said. ‘In the swirl and eddy of the moment, the strange seems believable,’ Neva J continued. ‘We were so poor as kids that when the preacher said listen to what I say and do what I tell you if you want to get to Heaven seemed rational in the dust storm,’ Neva J cautioned. ‘When no one knows your name, and then you hear it called, you answer,’ Neva J mused. ‘When a leader, a preacher, or a president tells you they have all of the answers, it is comforting in the devastating wind,’ Neva J said. ‘When the Wind blows your groceries away, you will trust the first voice that promises to get the food back for you,’ Neva J added.

Wind danced on Brooks Pond. The Bullfrogs held on to their hats. The Great Blue Heron leaned against a tree. Geese honked. Bullfrogs sang of the mighty wind. The evening seemed dreamlike with the trees bowing to each other and the little dog and boy holding on to a tree trunk to keep from blowing away.

The sky is a blue winter blanket. Winter blanket when it is almost summer. Thoughts of coming attractions. The 4th of July is around the corner. After that, I imagine fall. Fall is a state of mind. I revel in it, I am at peace with it. The cooling weather sweaters and hats. I enjoy hats. I have since I was a kid. The sock hats or navy caps of my youth left something to be desired. I wanted a hat with character for a character. I wanted to be set apart, hats do just that. I despise being pigeonholed. I wish not to be understood by a job or words; I prefer to be a bit of a mystery.

Faith is a state of mind. I wear it like a favorite hat. It is comfortable and easy. Not grievous nor with a requirement for self-flagellation. A way of life and being in the world. I rarely am conscious of faith; it is with me all the time. Folks who question Faith’s existence, Faith and I laugh about on my Wood’s Walks. When you meet Faith, you will not let Faith go far from you. Faith is there in the hard times. The times you do not like yourself, Faith likes you.

In the quiet times of the soul, Faith brings her friend Wisdom. Now, Wisdom is a patient, kind sort. Never nervous or suffering from anxiety. Wisdom waits quietly, watches, and finds the right answer for the malady of the heart. When wisdom speaks, people listen. Wisdom waits for everyone to talk, then offers a few sage words. Wisdom is clothed in humility. Never brags nor boasts. Wisdom’s words are life apples of gold in pictures of silver.

Of course, the trio is not complete without Sense Of Place. Sense of Place is often seen with Faith and Wisdom. Faith and Wisdom are a good place for SOP. SOP is at peace wherever he is. He is never looking for what he does not have. Sense of Place is grateful for where he is. When stormy thoughts try to enter, SOP is there with contentment.

Saturday night I decided to make a solo journey to Paducah, Kentucky. Paducah has a downtown area that I love! A musician friend of mine, Leight July…

Solo Paducah, Kentucky Trip on June 13, 2026

Listen is the last word of Disclosure Day. A movie regarding the presence of aliens on Earth, at least since the Roswell Incident. The movie caused me to have an increased appreciation for the animals of the Woods. The animals communicate with me often, but do I have a clear understanding of what they are saying? A Nun in Disclosure Day summed up my shared belief question as to why God created such a vast universe only for us. What is our government hiding? Why are they hiding information regarding flying saucers and their occupants? It is said that a majority of folks believe in extraterrestrial life. President Jimmy Carter said he had seen a flying saucer. There is so much smoke, there must be a fire.

The Barney and Betty Hill incident on September 19 – 20, 1961, in New Hampshire. The Incident was commonly referred to as the Hill Abduction. Betty Hill’s notes and tapes have been placed at the University of New Hampshire. The Hill story captured my imagination as a young man. The Hills say that an object descended rapidly toward their vehicle, causing Barney to stop in the middle of the highway. The huge silent craft hovered about 80 to 100 feet above the Hills 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air…it reminded Barney of a huge pancake.’ The Hills go on to recount lost time and, under hypnosis, an alien abduction.

Barney and Betty Hill were not influencers, as the term was unheard of in 1961. ‘The ancient star maps shown at the beginning of the 2012 film Prometheus are based on the Star Map drawn by Betty Hill and depict the Zeta Reticuli System.’

‘Mr. Deer stared into the eyes of the Old man and said Listen,’ Mr. Deer remembered about himself. ‘I am your friend, and I will help you,’ Mr. Deer told the Old Man. ‘There are others like me in the Woods that watch you each day and want to help you in your quest,’ Mr. Deer noted. ‘I was with you in Chicago and watched over you in your cradle, ‘ MD explained. ‘You sure did love Laughing Santa and the humongous Christmas Tree with you and mom and dad under it for the 1961 Christmas Card Photo,’ Mr. Deer laughed.

‘I was with you when you projected cartoons with your Kenner Projector that you received for Christmas,’ Foxy said with a grin. ‘You saw me there by your bed and were not afraid as I talked to you about things to come, Foxy continued. ‘Neva J came into the bedrooms, and I hid under the bed,’ Foxy laughed. ‘I thought the Kenner Projector and the cartoons of Mighty Mouse and Donald Duck were mesmerizing and fun, Foxy exclaimed! ‘I told you that we bring peace and no war, hope and help to our human neighbors,’ Foxy remembered.

There used to be a commercial that advised to reach out and just say hi.’ This is a wonderful and needed goal. Pastor Meg mentioned in our service that why not speak to someone we have not spoken to before. I found this to be a valuable management tool when I was at University. My director, Phil, remarked that he wanted to emulate my reaching out to students. ‘Jay not only speaks to every student he meets but also inquires regarding what they are studying,’ Phil said. Phil and I shared a similar core to our personalities: we were introverted. In the theatre yesterday, a nice African American woman sat a couple of seats down from me, and I was pleasantly surprised when I realized she was greeting me. I have been accustomed to silence from strangers. Her cheery conversation made my day!

We live in a lonely world full of people. Jonathon, my son, never meets a stranger. People light up when he talks with them! A friendly person who picks us out of the crowd to grace us with their interest compels us. We feel unseen until we step out of the shadows. Media and fear of the unknown keep us shut in. What is happening in our minds is often quite different than our world.

Words make the difference. Christ spoke words and changed humanity. Communication is the key to understanding. At times, you may be thought of as unfriendly until you open your mouth.

The weather is temperate and soothing today. The family of crows was cawing in the Woods. They were saying there is the Old Man with his camera again. ‘When will he finally get enough photos?’ Papa Crow said. ‘He wears a big hat covering a big head,’ Papa Crow continued. ‘I think the Woods is his second home,’ PC continued. ‘The Old Man appears to be in continual deep thoughts,’ PC observed. ‘He is a friend and does no harm,’ PC said. ‘He thinks long about what he has heard, seen, and read,’ PC noted. ‘The Old Man is a seeker,’ PC whispered. ‘He seeks oneness with all of God’s creation, PC explained.

‘No one sees me, I am invisible, Abigail said. ‘I sit by the entrance of the Broadway Theatre because my parents kicked me out of our home,’ Abigail continued. ‘I look for kind eyes, but many are averted from my gaze,’ Abigail noted with tears coursing down her cheeks. ‘I wonder if I am already dead and do not realize it, as no one sees me as they laugh and talk about the fine steaks they just ate,’ Abigail whispered. ‘Peanut Butter and Jelly would be nice, I have not eaten in three days,’ Abigail continued. ‘I wonder if God in Heaven even knows I exist,’ Abigail mused. ‘My clothes are full of holes, I have no shoes, but I have a soul, I have a heart,’ Abigail said.

The Old Man was out for a day trip. First, the walk in the woods, then the long wait for a grocery order. Why not see a matinee movie? I was amazed to see the theatre almost full. Not a customary sight in these halcyon days. ‘Backrooms is based on the internet-born liminal space phenomenon, the A24 Backrooms (2026).’ Backrooms is an endless yellow-walled labyrinth. The movie is supposed to capture the uncanny dread of liminal spaces. ‘Reviewers note the movie excels when it leans into the inexplicable and inexplicable horror of an infinite non-Euclidean wasteland.’

So, Backrooms was a weird movie. It was a bit like life; the more you looked for the reason and rationale to the fluorescently lit liminal yellow-walled space… There was another hall to enter. Furniture sinking into the floor, rooms that just are not correct, and the sound of footsteps. Backrooms, like all of us have been in, and yet our memories of them are fuzzy. Where are we going and where have we been? Have we reached the end, or is this the beginning?

Life is a mystery that is fun until it is not. I did not like the Hall of Mirrors at the Carnivale. I ran into too many mirrors. We have some of the Labyrinth Lover in us. The Shinnings Hedge Labrynith was scary. Life can be scary. Memories deep-seated in our souls harken to times we were in the yellow-walled, fluorescently lit, strange rooms looking for the door.

The little boy is running with his dog. He called out to his grandmother that it was starting to rain. Now the dog is in the house, and the little boy is playing unashamedly. The dog knows that a trick was played.

A frog chorus has arisen. Sounds like twenty full-throated singers or more. The summer evening is as it should be. The neighbor’s house is where it always has been. The Bullfrog Quartet is where it should be on Brooks Pond. The Writing Porch is not sinking into the ground or resting on a 45-degree angle. Tomorrow is another day to search for the path home. We must not get lost in the Backrooms forever…

The other day I sat down with my dog Mylo and watched a movie. Mylo is a full eight pounds of Maltese! He’s a good boy. Honestly, he wasn’t all that …

Mylo and Me Enjoying a Movie