The leaves are a bit later in changing color this fall. They are like the Old Man…a little slower. Nothing wrong with slow. Slow has been the saver of many lives. Slow is comfortable for we introverts. It is a natural state for reflection and musing. Deep calm is a good thing. It is time to sing Christmas Carols…in my neck of the woods. After Halloween it is Katy Bar the Door!

Election Day is less than a week away. I grow weary of hearing politicians speak. Our government is a study of power run amok. We belittle our friends and embrace our enemies. An Outreach Plan for Disaster.

Pecan pie is good at Thanksgiving. MJ made a Pumpkin Spice Cake that was delicious. The grass is mostly brown. Nature is slowing down. Old hates fade. Life is much bigger than we give it credit for. We strut and preen on the stage of life and are soon forgotten. Statues and plaques grow dusty and green. Those folks who knew the person the statue represents are gone and their kids do not care. One day the Stature of Liberty will look similar to its rendition on the movie Planet of the Apes. We all will be gone one day and our memory erased…so enjoy the slowness of the fall and crisp hope of the air.

Hope is grown in the slow reflection and calm assurance of faith. We believe that this is only the beginning of the beginning. We are just getting started. Reality is in the eyes of the beholder I observed at the documentary showing regarding Elizabeth Holmes on Sunday. Elizabeth and Billy her husband are attempting to start a business somewhat similar to the failed Theranos. It seems that in her ‘Reality’ she was the hero. She was bringing home blood testing to the masses. People would now be able to catch diseases that could kill them at an early stage when there are therapies for the illness. Ms. Holmes convinced such luminaries as former Secretary of State George Schultz and General Mattis and well as Henry Kissinger to sit on her board. With no proof of the demonstrated efficacy of the nano container and drop of capilary blood being tested in the Edison blood testing machine…Elizabeth convinced these powerful astute men of her reality.

‘Halloween is less than a week away,’ Mylo said. ‘We shall visit New Orleans French Quarter to see the haunted restaurant and stay at the Monteleone, which is noted for the ghost of a child who died there at the beginning of the last century,’ Mylo continued. ‘Muriel’s Jackson Square is the place to go for ghosts,’ Mylo smiled

‘Pierre Antoine Lepardi Jourdan is still with us today in spiritual form on the same piece of property that is now Muriel’s. His ghost doesn’t appear in human form, but instead as a glimmer of sparkly light wandering around the lounge.’ ‘The Seance Lounges are so named due to Jourdan spending most of his time in them,’ Mylo said. ‘I love the French Quarter where a Maltese can be accepted for who he is,’ Mylo laughed and danced in circles.

‘I am excited to hear more jazz music,’ Chet noted with a wink. ‘I agree with Mylo; we shall investigate the ghosts of the French Quarter,’ Chet proclaimed. ‘When we stayed in the Monteleone in January, I did not realize the rich haunted history it has,’ Chet mused. ‘I remember when a beautiful lady tapped me on the shoulder as we listened to Jazz in at the Carousel Bar…I saw her in the mirror at the top of the Carousel…yet when I turned she vanished,’ Chet said. ‘I ordered another Vieux Carre, which was created by Walter Bergeron at the Carousel Bar inside the Hotel Monteleone…when the friendly bartender brought me the signature drink, Mr. Bergeron and the Vanishing Woman were standing behind him…this time I checked in the high Carousel Mirrors…but they cast no reflection,’ Chet said softly and with some trepidation.

Yesterday Jonathon and I saw the documentary, You Can See Everything.’ The story of Elizabeth Holmes. She founded the company Theranos. Having been valued at 10 billon dollars it is now defunct due to fraud. Nathan Fielder asked Ms. Holmes is she lied to investors and the American public when she said that the Edison a small blood testing apparatus could test for over 600 different things in a small box that at one time was distributed to Walgreens. She responded that she did not and that she told the truth when she attested the ability to perform over 600 tests when it had in fact only succeeded in testing for a handful. Her husband said that Elizabeth’s mind does not function as others do. Now Ms. Holmes prohibited any examination of her labs or the Edison. She took issue with a report from the New York Times that quoted her as saying when she was the CEO of Theranos she was, ‘Playing a role.’ Nathan Fielder showed Elizabeth a film of the famous Abbott and Costello comedy routing, ‘Who’s On First.’ She said that she found the skit funny but did not understand that the point of the routine was the strange names of the players on the bases being misunderstood. Nathan Fielder told her that when she told him that she believed she had not lied when she said the Edison could perform over 600 blood tests it caused him to think of Who’s On First.

We live in a bit of a bubble. Our words often do not convey what we think they are conveying. We hear what we are conditioned to hear. Communication is difficult when we speak different languages. The President tells us Affordability is a hoax. Perhaps that is believed when the price of a gallon of gas does not affect your Bottom line.

Elizabeth Holmes appealed to powerful men. Her wide eyed unblinking gaze captivated them. They sat on her board with little to no verification of her assertions. It was a trust me organization until it was not.

68 has it’s shoes on and a light sweater. ‘I was just a babe in the woods a year ago,’ 68 mused. ‘There were toasts to my health and an exciting year ahead,’ 68 recalled. ‘The Old Man felt he was nearly 70…now he knows the feeling,’ 68 laughed. ‘Oh the possibilities and wonders of 68th Year, 68 said with a little dance. ‘Soon retired 16 years…how did that happen,’ 68 reflected. ‘I am one of the Retirement Years,’ 68 said with pride. ‘My brothers and I have landed in many ports…seen many things…heard mysteries and solved riddles,’ 68 said. ‘Now, I join the back benchers…I will be a watcher and an active participant from the cheap seats,’ 68 promised.

‘I am in a hurry I have much to do,’ 69 said with exuberance. ‘I am the forerunner of 70…I am my own year and will do it my way,’ 69 promised. ‘Anything can happen and probably will,’ 69 laughed and winked. ‘The Old Man has plans schemes and a vision of his life as the page turns,’ 69 noted. ‘More Theatre I say…more pondering of the Mystic,’ 69 rose from his seat in the waiting room. ‘More love less judgment,’ 69 said softly. ‘The Old Man knows he has lived longer than his Dad and many of his contemporaries,’ 69 mused. ‘It is all a mystery…a riddle…a hope in the heart,’ 69 whispered.

‘How did it happen…when did it happen…was I asleep during important segments…did I take for granted the precious,’ the Old Man thought. ‘Days that seemed important fade in memory…days seeming ordinary stand out,’ the Old Man said. ‘What the experts said to focus on often was a dead end…my heart was my best guide,’ the Old Man smiled. ‘Now and again we get close to the answers to life’s persistent questions,’ the Old Man laughed. ‘Then, in the blink of an eye the answer to the mystery hides behind a rock and giggles,’ the Old Man observed with a wide grin.

The light had a strange ambiance. It was a soft golden hue. Things seemed different. Mr. Somnambulist was busy with his appointed mission. It had been a long time since he had been truly awake. October had the magic of awareness. Each October he suddenly woke up. The leaves were vibrant with color. As nature prepared for sleep Mr. Somnambulist started his day.

‘Halloween is just over a week away, Mr. S said. ‘I think it would be a good time to play a trick on the energetic,’ Mr. S laughed through heavily lidded eyes. ‘I enjoy watching people deciding who to spread my sleep dust on,’ Mr. S laughed. ‘The Sleep Walker has a rich history,’ Mr. S noted. ‘I have just the right recipe where most folks do not realize they are sleepwalking,’ Mr S continued. ‘Many walk slowly through life never comprehending the effects Somnambulism is having on their understanding of events,’ Mr. S danced a little dance. ‘Rip did not know when the desire for a nap hit him and lasted for years,’ Mr. S explained.

‘Now now let us not take all of the credit…I have been putting children to sleep for many nights,’ Sandman said with a yawn. ‘I have had stories written about me,’ Sandman smiled. ‘I have caused some mischief and lowered anger among men,’ Sandman noted. ‘Over confident despots and dictators require a little sand in the eyes to calm down,’ Sandman grinned.

‘There has been a change in the christian message since I was a lad,’ the Old Man noted. ‘Christ ministered to the poor…welcomed the stranger…’a friend of publicans and sinners.’ Now…among some circles it is the faith of white Americans with no mission or ministry to the poor…or welcoming of the stranger,’ the Old Man continued. ‘We are sleeping through the plot of our story,’ the Old Man proclaimed!

The Author wrote the Story Of Humans. The Quill moved deliberately across the page. A Story of love and forgiveness…a Story of hate and cruelty. The contrast was stark. The banality of evil. Shall we do evil…that good may come?