‘So…how are you today Old Chap,’ my daily companion asked. ‘So far so good…for a Medicare Birthday Boy,’ I answered. ‘I have been enjoying your recent photos…especially the ones of the little towns of Southern Illinois…or as you often refer to it…Little Egypt,’ G.A. said. ‘I also have been relishing your recent purchase of a Subaru…I like its higher profile and the leather seats are comfortable on my sore back,’ G.A. continued. ‘I did not realize that you guys got sore backs,’ I said. ‘My back has hurt ever since Joshua fought the battle of Jericho and the walls came tumbling down…I was on top of one of the walls,’ G. A. responded. ‘You mention your Medicare Birthday…I wish you could have met Methuselah…he harped about how old he was…for hundreds of years…he was a vegetarian you know…he did not like burnt offerings and refused to participate in them.’ ‘Met told I. A. that he was not going to burn any animals…and that if he wanted them barbecued…he could do it himself,’ G. A. continued. ‘What did I. A. say about that,’ I asked. ‘He said…well…okay,’ G. A. responded.

‘Are you with me all the time…you know…24/7, I asked G. A. ‘Oh I take a holiday every now and again…but I did go to Maine with you and the Fam…great trip…I like lighthouses,’ G. A. said with a wide grin. ‘What would you tell us, humans, if you had a minute to do so,’ I asked. ‘Don’t take yourself too seriously…things are not as they appear…each of you is going to be saucered eyed with surprise when you see what awaits you,’ G. A. laughed.

‘I am always with you when you are driving…you need the safety features of the Subaru…as MJ told you when you bought them,’ G. A. grinned. ‘I think that you should begin going to the movies again…I like movies…and Theatre Popcorn…but the Coming Attractions are a bit long,’ G. A. reflected.

‘What of Church…will it always be a part of serving I. A.,’ I asked. ‘You may not always refer to your Faith Community as Church…but people will always gather together…that is how I. A. made us…as you folks are fond of saying…’No man is an island,’ G. A. chuckled.

‘You seem relaxed and carefree,’ I observed. ‘Well the Plan is so much larger than any of us…and time is an illusion that we angels are not caught up in…and I. A. literally loves everyone,’ G. A. said with a satisfied look in his eyes. ‘Look at nature…it never really dies…it is timeless,’ G. A. said as he put his hand on my shoulder.

‘It will all turn out fine…Kiddo,’ a familiar voice intoned. ‘That sounded very much like Neva J.,’ I said with a glimmer in my eyes. ‘Yes…Neva J. insists on accompanying me every time I am by your side,’ G. A. laughed.

‘What would you tell my blog readers,’ I asked G. A. ‘Be yourself…that is how I. A. made us and love each other and accept each other…when one of you suffers…we all suffer…when one of you rejoices…we all rejoice…you know…all the angels in heaven…kind of thing,’ G. A. said.

‘Offer your hand in friendship and help…hold your tongue…laughed often and love everyone…’

‘You know I have often thought how nice it would be to sit down with you and to see you face to face,’ I said. ‘Oh my goodness…you have seen me many times…and you would readily recognize me now…I have many times smiled at you in a crowd of people…and given you a friendly wink at difficult moments…I rode with you in the ambulance when Neva J. had been told that you probably would not live to get to the hospital in Evansville…you asked me why I was so happy and I told you because you were going to be alright…’

Billy B. began Monday the 10th of October much as any other. He appreciated the rich and varied life that he enjoyed. He wondered how so much had happened to him in just…almost…65 years. He reflected on his friend, Dale, and what a nice conversation they recently had.

October 10, 1962, was a school day in Eldorado, Illinois…Billy B.’s new home. His family, mom, and dad and Billy B., had moved from Chicago to Eldorado and all that Billy B. had known had changed. Billy B. quickly became friends with Chet as he and Chet had the same last name and in fact, were born on the same day. Neva J., Billy B.s mom, loved President Kennedy. She thought if JFK said something…you could rely on it being correct. Many of the Halloween costumes in 1962 were of JFK and his lovely wife Jackie. Billy B. already had his JFK Halloween costume that he had purchased at the Ben Franklin Dime Store…and Chet was going as Daniel Boone. The house that Billy B. lived in looked as if it was tailor-made for Halloween. It was a large Victorian gothic-type structure that sat just across from the Eldorado High School. When they first moved from Chicago they had to share the house with Billy B.’s aunt Wanda and her family of Billy G. and Brenda and uncle Bill. Billy B. was relegated to the utility room to sleep and the room was so narrow that when he opened the door he had to climb onto his half bed and turn out the light. The old house creaked and groaned throughout the night and Billy B. knew that he had seen a ghost.

‘We will have our Halloween party at my house, Billy B. said to Chet and Jane, and Darryl. ‘We already have the ghosts that are necessary and Neva J. found a dead rat in our bathtub,’ Billy B. continued. ‘It is not still there…is it,’ Jane asked with a notable grimace. ‘No…dad put out several rat traps,’ Billy B. assured Jane. ‘You know they say that the High School is haunted,’ Chet mentioned. ‘Yes…custodian Watson worked his entire career at EHS and many have seen him roaming the halls both night and day…the students loved him and he was a friend and counselor to many of them through the years,’ Darryl added. ‘I wonder if we could slip in one of the High School doors that never fully lock and see if we can find Watson’s ghost,’ Neva J. asked. Yes…Neva J. was a kid at heart! She had a spirit of adventure that rivaled any youth…and she enjoyed a nice glass of red wine.

It was a frosty night for October the 10th…and a good night to go exploring for ghosts. The side door to EHS opened with just a little jerk. The hallway lights were on as well as several of the classrooms. ‘Come in and grab a mop and a dust cloth,’ said Custodian Watson. ‘Well for goodness sake…you are real,’ Neva J. exclaimed! ‘Why yes Neva J. I am,’ Custodian Watson answered. ‘Do you work here every night,’ Chet asked. ‘I do indeed…someone has to take care of the place,’ CW answered. ‘What is it like to be a ghost,’ Darryl asked. ‘Just like being alive like you are…it is as if I changed my TV channel and now I am on channel 6 instead of channel 3…the only difference is the channel that I am on now…appears fuzzy to you guys…most of the time,’ CW said with a knowing grin. ‘You mean that death is nothing to fear,’ Jane asked. ‘That is correct…Jane…it is simply the changing of a channel,’ CW replied.

A few days after October 10, 1962, the Cuban Missile Crisis began. Everyone was sorely afraid of nuclear war and dying and oblivion… Neva J. and Billy B. and Chet and Jane and Darryl…were concerned…but they were not afraid…

Billy B. remembered how he was hired at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale…44 years ago today…and hoped that he had helped some people along the way…

It is a lovely Sunday in October. Indeed you can sit and contemplate the beauty of God’s creation and wonder…as the Parking Attendant in Philidelphia asked me in the 90s’ ‘What you crying about Mon.’ A snapshot of many of our lives would reveal both clear skies and smooth sailing…and unlimited visibility on our horizon. The holidays are fast approaching and our hearts are warmed by the hearth of our memories of Thanksgiving and Christmas past. Our President says that we are closer to Armageddon than we have been since the Cuban Missile Crisis…60 years ago.

Poor people pray. Our history has taught us that if God does not help us…we will remain destitute in our penury. Money and a warm and inviting home and holidays in Maine and our short history of having every earthly convenience that we both need and want…cause us to sing, ‘Everything is

going to be alright…’

Sameness is what we crave. We want our churches to be the same church we joined 40 years ago. We are happy and our lifelong friends in the pews next to us…are happy…while others wonder where is the God of the Bible…where is Jesus and his compassion and primarily…’The peace that passes all understanding.’

The peace we crave as, ‘The deer panteth for water.’ Community is vital to our happy lives. We long to have other members of our human family who care about us…and who love us.

The church is the bedrock of a hungry and needy and hurting society. There are people who are contemplating suicide as I write these words… they need a loving church. A woman is crying by the bedside of her child who is dying of cancer…and when the child awakens the woman smiles and wipes her tears from her eyes…and tells her child that God is listening to their prayers. Mom and dad have lost their jobs and are desperately searching for employment and their children are hungry…and they wish they knew of a church that they could reach out to. There is an upper-middle-class family who lives in a gated community…but they grow old…and the pleasures of life are little more than nuisances and seem to have lost their one-time excitement…as they look for something beyond this veil of tears.

There is a woman who is blind…who for the majority of her life could see…who wishes that she had a Faith Family that she could reach out to…

There is a loving Gay couple who follow the Christian path and love God…and who wonder where the Jesus of the Bible is spoken of and where they can feel at home…

There is. a loner…a person with mental illness…who has sought a place to fit in and be part of the family…and to be loved and accepted for who they are and the gifts that they bring…

We can not see the forest…for the trees…

Yesterday a building at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale was named for my friend. Glenn Poshard is a friend to so many people of Southern Illinois and indeed all of Illinois. I first met Glenn when MJ and I saw him at a Glenn Miller Concert with our friends Faye and
Steve…sometime in the 1980s. The Concert was in Christopher, Illinois and Glenn greeted Steve by his name and told him that he did not realize Steve was a fan of Glen Miller. Years later, then Chancellor Argersinger asked me to take Glenn on a tour of Campus to meet the various directors of departments who would be reporting to him if he was chosen for the role of Vice Chancellor of Administration. Glenn was simply a delight to talk with and to hear his many stories of Little Egypt.

Throughout Glenn’s tenure at SIUC and as both the Chairman of the Board of Trustees and finally the President of the entire system he sought my advice on occasion…and I freely offered it at other times…although it was unsolicited. Glenn always had time for me. He began his career at the University in the 1960s working as a civil servant in the Physical Plant…Glenn loves working people…that was magnified by the standing-room-only crowd yesterday to see their friend receive his honor…

Glenn has a heart for the forgotten and the marginalized and for those who have no voice. He is a humble servant/leader and the only parallel I see to Glenn in Southern Illinois Univerity’s history is former University President Delyte Morris.

Those of us who know Glenn…have seen greatness clothed in humility…and the likes of him will not pass our way again…

Photos Courtesy SIU Foundation

‘Maine is magical,’ Jane said with a wistful look in her eyes. ‘I have been noticing that you are especially fond of Wiscasset,’ Chet observed. ‘Yes I love the little store that sells so many unusual and unique items…like the wooden pencil that is clad in leather and is very wide,’ Jane answered. ‘I purchased a Porcelain Bulldog from the store last year in September and this last visit…I bought a man with a goat’s head dressed in opulent regalia,’ Billy B. smiled with satisfaction. ‘I wrote with the mystical pencil and the woman who was helping me said for me to write somewhere that I would like to visit…and I shut my eyes and wrote Maine…when I opened them…I was there,’ Chet laughed. ‘Yes I saw your foray into the Secrets of the Pencil…but I want to write somewhere that it is impossible to travel to without special help,’ Jane mused.

‘So you three are looking for a bit of a paranormal adventure,’ asked the old lady who took the Pencil out of its’ special locked case. Yes…we want to determine if there is a bit of magic in the unusual-looking writing device,’ Billy B. answered.

Reverend George Burroughs stood before the three on Witchtrot Road in York. Beside him was a lady clad in black and with a large hat covering her eyes. ‘Who might you folks be…and where are we,’ Billy B. asked incredulously. ‘Goodness me…you are in Maine children and what are you doing out on such a foul night,’ the lady in black asked. ‘And what is your name little girl…you look at me as if you know me,’ the lady continued. ‘My name is Jane and you are who,’ asked Jane. ‘Well I am Sarah Good from Salem, Massachusettes,’ the lady said. ‘The good Reverend is helping me escape Salem where they want to try me as a…witch,’ Sarah proclaimed. ‘Are you a witch,’ Chet asked. ‘Why no I am not…no more than Sarah Abbey who accused me of being spiteful and malicious. ‘I take a little nip of Gin for my rheumatism…but then again…who doesn’t, Sarah said.

Jane opened her eyes and looked down at the word she had written on the paper with the Leather Clad Magical Pencil…GRANDMA…

‘In September 1963, before the Beatles were a blip on anybody’s radar in North America, ‘The Quiet Beatle’ was living up to his reputation by visiting his sister, Louise Harrison Caldwell, in Benton, Illinois. At the time the other three Beatles were vacationing in Europe, Paul and Ringo in Greece, John and his wife Cynthia in France. Harrison came to Southern Illinois with his older brother Peter, to hang out, play music, go camping and get a first-hand glimpse of life in the Midwest. While here he did an interview on a radio station in West Frankfort, bought a Rickenbacker guitar in Mr. Vernon, jammed with a local band at a VFW Hall in Eldorado, bought records at a Benton music shop, hung out with coal miners at a Bocci Ball Club, then lost (and recovered) his wallet, and turned heads and hearts with his ‘mop-top’ hair and Liverpool accent.’ Illinois Times

Benton is a lovely town in Southern Illinois. It is also the home of the renowned actor John Malcovich.

So…65 is barking at my heels and I continue searching for this Old Man’s role in the life of my Community. When I look into the faces of my fellow Southern Illinoisans I see The Forgotten People. We are infatuated with the happenings of the East Coast of our nation…and if the East Coast is having a dull news day…we look to the West Coast for valuable life lessons… the Midwest…Southern Illinois is forgotten. We people of Little Egypt have done alright with our hardscrabble lives and taking the lesson of Esther of the Bible and thus gleaning what the important or right people have left behind…and without a doubt, it has caused us to develop our own opinions of what is essential in life and our intrinsic value to our Creator.

Humble we are with a readily extended helping hand…when you know poverty and the struggle for bread…you recognize it quickly in others who are experiencing it. As I walk the streets of our little towns and hamlets and villages…I primarily encounter the poor and the marginalized and those who have effectively been forgotten by the affluent and the powerful. When we see each other…we know our brothers and our sisters…those who have come through the furnace of want and deprivation. Those who save all year in order to have a little money for Christmas gifts for their loved ones. Those who think before they drive somewhere…because they do not have the money for gas. Those who do not turn on the furnace but rather layer their clothing and wear mittens in their home…and wonder what those who have an abundance of money…will come up with next…

Money is the greater divider. Churches are no different. Many in our region look for a church where they feel that they will not stand out for their penury. The denominational churches did not seem interested in them…but the storefront missions…beckoned with open arms. Some of those with open arms have open hands for the hard-wrought earnings of their poor congregants. Many poor and needy congregations are proud of their ability to keep their pastor in the finest lifestyles…after all…they are giving to God…

‘It is getting bad on Aisle 5… I.A.,’ Giddy said. ‘No matter how often I visit the rebels…they still want to fight rather than talk,’ Giddy continued. ‘Told them that you are very proud of them and that they are an integral part of Home Department Store & Supermarket…but there

seems to be less and less of them that want to listen to reason, Giddy concluded.

Well, it seems like yesterday that I gave all of them a raise in pay and they were relatively happy for a while,’ I.A. mused. ‘Then they wanted shorter working hours and more holidays and to be off work every Sunday in order to attend church…but I see them everywhere but a church,’ I.A. said with a sigh. ‘Finally, they wanted their own manager that would be dedicated just to Aisle 5…and I agreed to that…until they killed him…

‘Each section leader in Aisle 5 wants to be the boss of the other section leaders…and they want an Iron Throne installed…you know like the one on the HBO television show House of the Dragon…and they want to be referred to as The Chosen,’ Giddy said in barely a whisper.

‘What do you think that the solution is…Giddy…is there any more that I can do to convince Aisle 5 that I care about them and have their best interest at heart,’ I.A.asked.

‘Aisle 5ers are set on lying about their colleagues and hurting each other with backbiting and slander and soon the knives will come out,’ Giddy said sadly.

‘Call Clarence and tell him that he has a clean-up on Aisle 5…and get my drafting table out and my T-Square and pencils and rulers…it is going to be another long night…’

‘Charles Dickens describes Scrooge as a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner. BBC Bite Size

Christmas is coming…of that, we can be certain. But what about us…what about how we treat our fellow human beings throughout the year? We go about our daily routine with tunnel vision to guide us. We see the needs of ourselves…primarily…and then perhaps we peer through a glass darkly…at the needs and happiness of those immediately around us…and finally, those who are not in our direct line of sight…do not exist and are not on our radar.

Sing unto the Lord On Sunday…we do…and heartily…that Jesus Loves The Little Children…and then we promptly forget them on Monday. The feelings or happiness of those around us matters not at all to us…as we know we are right…we are secure in that rightness…and the plainness of our perfection should be a beacon to all those around us.

Compare we do…those who we interact with. The manner in which we have lived our life is the gold standard…and all those who do not fit in the form…are rejected.

Laugh we do and mock and make light of those whom we hurt by our common sense economies. If people were more like us…would not the world be a better place…

Groaning and crying and gnashing of teeth we hear as our earth suffers under the Three Horsemen of; War and Famine and Climate Change. You need to look to other countries to find food insecurity…it is in your town or village…perhaps just down your lane.

Hope we have that the stock market will soon rebound…while others hope…for a crust of bread…

‘You can help yourself…but don’t take too much…’

What a lovely service at First Presbyterian Church @ Carbondale this morning. I attended by Zoom but the love and acceptance and unity came leaping at me through the computer screen! It was a special service for LGBTQIA+ – Affirming/World Communion Sunday worship service and coffee fellowship. Our church joined with Carbondale Unitarian Fellowship, the Church of the Good Shepherd, and the First Christian Church. Pastor Kerry spoke about how denominational churches are broken and many of us have been cut on the jagged edges. It seems to me that we have taken the words of the Bible and fashioned ourselves a ‘god’ of straw to appease our prejudices and biases and learned hatred for others who are not like we are. Or in fact, a straw god to take out our frustrations of seeing others live their life as God made them…and we realize our secret may be revealed…that they are like us…that they are us.

Photos Courtesy of Lisa Hollabaugh

I saw a cartoon by the Naked Pastor the other day where a sheep wearing rainbow colors was sitting by Jesus. The caption read that the sheep was thanking Christ for sitting with him…and Christ responded…’Thank you for sitting with me.’

So often we thrash about searching for the love of God to shine on us. Today the brilliance of God’s love is shown at First Presbyterian Church.

‘October is wonderful for riding horses,’ Jane observed. ‘I have been no closer to a horse than Johnny West’s faithful steed…Thunderbolt…and he is much too small for me to mount him,’ Chet said with a sly wink. ‘We will be with a trained Horse Whisperer and it is supposed to be safe for first-time equestrians,’ Neva J. announced. ‘We will drive the 57′ Chevy to Giant City State Park which is just a few miles from Carbondale…and we will put the top down on the way…if we do not freeze,’ Neva J. smiled with a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. ‘We will be riding on a Bridle Path that goes through the middle of the woods,’ Billy B. said casually. ‘If you have not been in the middle of Woods you need to be prepared for a bit of a unique life experience,’ Billy B. continued. ‘Due to the close-growing trees and the plethora of foliage it can be difficult to see the Sun…and the wildlife makes peculiar noises and sounds that are a bit disconcerting,’ Chet said matter of factly. ‘I thought that you had never been on the back of a horse,’ Darryl asked with a smirk. ‘I read Darryl…books…,’ Chet answered.

Exhilarating was the trip from Eldorado to Giant City. It was a cloudy day and the forest was naturally dark. Each sound from limbs cracking to squirrels scampering…produced visions of monsters hiding in the thicket. ‘I believe that we need to ride in a westerly direction,’ said the Horse Whisperer. ‘You believe or you know,’ asked Chet who had almost fallen off of his Appaloosa. ‘Well I have lost my compass and it is so dark today it is somewhat difficult to determine the path directional markers, the HW replied. ‘I saw a group of riders just up the trail… let us see if we can meet up with them to help us in finding our way out of this spooky place,’ Neva J. suggested. ‘It seems to me that we are going back the way that we came,’ Darryl mused.

Oh good…there are the hitching posts that we saw when we first entered the Bridle Path…but who are those people,’ Billy B. asked. ‘Greetings fellow horse riders…my you look familiar…is this the end of the Bridle Path…or the beginning,’ Jane said with fear of the unknown in her voice.

The HWs’ horse was riderless…