It is a lovely October day. As I perused the woods this afternoon I noticed a family who had representations from the young to the old. They were helping Grandma negotiate the uneven ground of the park as they held her hand. As they sat at a picnic table I could see the joy of nature in their eyes as they drank in the autumn splendor. I often listen to articles from the Washington Post on my iPhone as I walk and snap photographs…or multitask. An article caught my attention that was about the need for more atheists in our nation. Now, this seemed a bit obtuse until I listened to the piece’s thesis. The idea that Christians have inserted themselves into government and their quest and success in having the god they represent transfigured into laws that govern the rest of us.

The author’s contention is that there are many more atheists in the United States than are self-identified due to their fear of being persecuted or set apart by a fundamentalist tsunami of political/Christians. This assertion stirred my imagination and agreed with something that I have been observing for the past 50 years. First, if you demand that prayer be returned to school…are you speaking of all prayers or the prayers of your narrow faith? In addition…how do you know that you are right? If the John Wayne Gospel is the Gospel that Jesus preached why did he exhort us, ‘A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another?’ It is clear to me that with the surge in fundamentalist teaching and their current immersion in the political process the term Christian has been eroded into what people see in the media.

‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.’ Hate and hurting your fellow human can not be found in
Christ’s gospel. The disintegration of political/religious speech has damaged the cause of Christ. When those who claim no faith are motivated to help their neighbor and to battle global warming and open Warming Centers to keep the homeless from freezing to death and those of us who claim a direct line to God…worry not about the babies or the children who are hungry and say that the homeless should pull themselves up by their bootstraps when they do not have boots…what fruits of faith have we demonstrated?

Thoughts and Prayers we offer when there is another mass shooting. Mass shootings are more prevalent than a change in the weather…have the thoughts and prayers accomplished their purpose? Those who believe in the Dominion Doctrine…do you see evidence that God had asserted dominion over any aspect of life other than your peculiar religious doctrine? Do we really believe that to follow Jesus is to exclude everyone who is not exactly like us…and we have yet to define what that likeness is?

How do we Christians convince a suffering world that we have hope and peace and a morsel of bread and water to slake their thirsty souls…

‘I have not been this cold in some time,’ She said.

‘It is so dark that I can not see my hand in front of my face,’ He said.

‘Who took the Sun away…and how long did we sleep,’ She asked?

‘I think that we just napped. We closed our eyes just before landing at Portland, Maine and when we opened them we were here,’ He said.

‘Where is ‘here’,’ She asked with trembling in her voice?

‘It certainly is at least 30 degrees cooler than when we left…and the darkness is engulfing,’ He said.

‘Could it be the end of the world that we have been hearing about all of our lives…is this Armageddon,’ She asked?

‘Oh my God I feel something on my chest and now it is licking my face…is it the monster that eats your face off,’ He said with terror.

‘I see a crack of light and I am going to walk toward it…the light has to be the answer,’ She said.

‘Woof…Woof…lick…lick…lick,’ the monster uttered and did.

The door opened and light flooded in. It was the morning of their departure to Woolwich, Maine and they had slept in the dark basement and the fall temperatures had taken an abrupt downturn during the night…

Mylo looked from one to the next and wondered how they would feel when they woke up and discovered that he was their master and they were his slaves?

In 1973 I was in high school. It was the year of the Eldorado Centennial. I recall Mr. McRoy growing a beard for the special celebration. The thought of 50 years later writing a piece about the event did not cross his mind.

Billy B. thought of many things in 1973. The church work that he was involved in took up a large part of his time. Academics came easy to him and he studied little. Chet joined him at his little non-denominational church on the weekends. Chet seemed to like it very much. Billy B. often thought of him and Chet playing with Chet’s Daniel Boone action figure and eating Oscar Meyers Wieners directly out of the plastic wrap that they came in. Also their mutual affection for the Orpheum Theatre and trips to Pounds Hollow for summer swims. Chet had his cap set to become an accountant. Chet was good with accounting. His dad had passed away in the night a few years earlier. His mom Thelma was a no-nonsense woman. Thelma described Chet as a little fleshy.

Chet and Billy B. met on the first day of First Grade. They both were named Brooks and their birthdays were both on October 24th. Billy B. had the goal of moving closer to his church and becoming a minister. The day after graduation he moved. Billy B. either assisted in officiating at funerals or indeed was the minister for many of them.

Eldorado was a happening place. Fifty years ago the coal mines were still the best job around in Little Egypt. Eldorado Coal Miners had nice homes and often a new vehicle and a boat as well. They worked a lot of overtime. Those days were the days of the Wild Cat Strike. A miner friend told Billy B. that all that was required for a Wild-
Cat was for a miner to pour his water out of his two-tier lunch and water container…then everyone on the work shift walked out and went home.

In those halcyon days, every graduate was not expected to attend University. Many politicians did not have college degrees. People did not concern themselves too much about what their neighbors were doing except for what could be gleaned by front porch evenings or over the fence after hanging out the laundry to dry and fasten the wet garments and towels and sheets with wooden clothes pins to the clothesline. Communication was slow…almost like the Pony Express. If you wanted to know how your friends or family who lived a few miles away….you wrote them a letter or dropped them a postcard. The postage was cheaper on postcards.

Billy B. was focused on treating everyone as he wanted to be treated. He had dreams of a good life. He has had one and is grateful for it.

I sat and watched the hard rainfall in the woods this morning. I am a rainy-day person. The heat of September has broken. The pleasant sound of rain hitting the earth or the roof is a peaceful melody. I do my best thinking in the rain. Many leaves were falling with the gentle coaxing of the drops on them. Rain enables me to reflect on the beauty of life and its simplicity. No rhetoric or ravings or righteous anger.

I listen with some interest when I hear ministers or Christians exclaim that they are the example of what Christ taught and if we do as they say we will be alright with the Man Upstairs. Sadly when I look into their eyes I see a bit of sadness at their incapibility to measure up to the doctrine that they swear is from the mouth of God who uses the human mouth of the minister to proclaim it.

Society has grown increasingly virulent violent and mean in response to those with whom they disagree. God’s love and concern for his creation is much like the gentle rain that falls on all of us. He does not seem to pick or choose who to be good to or who is worthy of understanding and patience. Let us face our humanity. We are all living off of the Grace Of God and we are unique creations.

Some of us are angry people. Our preset is to be red-faced and smoke coming out of our ears. We search for someone to blame for our anger. It must be the dreaded and detestable…them…that is the cause for our high blood pressure.

Rain affords the opportunity to reset and endeavor to understand that each of us humans has a burden to bear. We are each a bundle of fears and doubts and questions. When no one seems to care we say that we do not need anyone. When in reality we are as the author G.K. Chesterton said, ‘We are all in a boat on a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.’

Billy B. and his cousin Brenda enjoyed watching the Friday Night Scary Movie. Brenda was a few years older than Billy B. and doted on him. She was his fun cousin. Neva J. was a surrogate mother to her niece. Brenda came from a religious fundamentalist background that allowed her to do very little that many girls her age were doing. Brenda spoke slowly like her dad Uncle Bill. She smiled often and enjoyed getting into mischief. Brenda did not possess the false artifice of holier than thou and was just what she seemed to be. Grandma A. thought she was a bit promiscuous…but that is what made her interesting. Billy B. thought of her as his sister.

October was a special month for Horror and Science Fiction movies. There was Frankenstein and Dracula as well as The Return Of The Mole People and This Island Earth and Steve McQueen in The Blob. The Blob came to Earth in a crashed space ship and it was indeed a gelatinous substance that a passing man found when he was investigating the crash and picked up the little Blob on a stick. As he watched the little glob of goo it suddenly climbed the stick in a rapid manner and attached itself to his arm. Soon the Baby Blob had consumed the curious gentelman and that is how after many human dinners it became an Adult Blob. The culmination of the movie was filmed in a movie theatre where the Blob, now gigantic oozed out of the Projectionist Room and began attacking the audience… The movie had a realism to it that was common in the scary movies of the day and the Blob seemed somewhat believable to the theatre audiences who already wondered what was in the Cry Room and what was the sticky substance on the floor underneath their feet.

As Brenda and Billy B. sat underneath their October blanket and munched Jiffy Pop Popcorn Brenda suggested that Billy B. go to the restroom and examine something she found on the sink. When Billy B. entered the bathroom he found a slime blob of gelatinous material resting on the sink and dripping onto the floor. At this same time, Brenda slipped up behind him and grabbed his shoulders and he let out a loud yelp! Brenda had placed a toy of the ’60s called Super Stuff on the sink and it looked remarkably like the Blob in the movie.

After the initial fright…Billy B. and Brenda laughed and laughed until it was time for her to go home and Neva J. was to drive her in the 57′ Chevy Convertible. As they drove to Brenda’s house…Neva J. insisted on enjoying the cool October air and left the top down.

‘Something is dripping on me,’ Brenda said with some apprehension.

‘Don’t worry my dear…it will be over well before we reach your house…, said Neva, J. with a Jack-O-Lantern smile on her face…

As I walked through the woods today I felt the nearly 90-degree heat. I have my new L.L. Bean fall clothes but so far it is too hot for Maine outerwear. Fall is here and fall weather is coming…perhaps later this week. We have enjoyed and endured an unusually hot summer both in temperature and in political rhetoric. I wonder if our political leaders do not realize that we know when they are lying to us? Politics has always been a rough and tumble sport but over the past few years, it has morphed into a slugfest. The reality of our three equal branches of government is that they are based on compromise. They do not function with nihilistic and narcissistic personalities.

Media has taken over our political system. Theatre and drama now rule the day. Who gets the biggest sound bite on the news. Who can tell us bare-faced lies with a straight face? Who can tear down the House of Representatives… and as far as we are in their hearts and on their radar…we can be damned. A basic principle of civic discourse is to not denigrate and malign anyone who you disagree with. When the former President is questioned or someone falls out of his favor…his caustic words cause danger and harm to anyone who would dare speak out against him. A day or two ago the Democrats saved the CR which enabled the government to remain open and ensured that thousands of government staff and our military could continue to receive their paychecks. I saw the Speaker of the House of Representatives in a new light as he appeared to be showing courage…until he blamed the almost shut-down on the democrats who had just saved his Bacon. Government shutdown never helps…it always hurts.

It has been asked what would you think if President Biden’s son is found guilty? He should be prosecuted like anyone else. The law is for the powerful and powerless. If the impeachment inquiry finds Biden guilty of high crimes and misdemeanors…let the process proceed to its logical conclusion. I do not think that I have been enamored with any man that has held the office of President… except for JFK…and I was a wee lad when he was cut down by assassination. Personalities are not the requirements for elected office…fidelity to our Constitution is.

Life is a bit musical. It has been said that music calms the savage beast. Perhaps music is what we need for our politician’s deliberations. I have observed that I feel much better when listening to some of my favorite music. My two favorites are Classical and Jazz. It is hard to disagree with your opponent when you are immersed in jazz. Jazz is innovation and hearing your inner tune and then displaying it for all to enjoy. Jazz is being yourself. Symphony relies completely on the cooperation of each musician. There is no room for a star in the show…each performer comprises the star which is the orchestra. Within these two musical art forms is the story of humankind. We are all unique individuals who must not only represent ourselves but be appreciated for our place on the stage of life while at the same time, we must come together and compromise to produce a heavenly sound…

Maine has music all of its own. That is why we keep going back. The melody is magical and mysterious. Sailing on the vast ocean reminds me of the unfathomability of our existence. The screech of the bald eagle was God calling out…Good Morning Friends… The lighthouses were the eyes of heaven upon us and lighting our way. On one of our last Maine Dinners at the Taste Of Maine…a man and what appeared to be his sons serenaded us while we enjoyed the delicious fresh seafood. The cool breeze wafted over us as we enjoyed our seats on the deck next to the ocean. The sun was setting. The sea birds were flying about preparing for bed…and all was right with the world…a lullaby of Maine…

I have had two months on my radar since youth: October and December. October because of my birthday and December because of Christmas. Things seem to go well for me in these months. I recall trying to remember my birth year when I was a child and it seemed difficult to fasten on either 1957 or 1958…they both seemed to be in another world as I lived in the ’60s. I read where one of my classmates was referring to her boys and how they were always there for her and her husband including through hospitalizations and I considered that I had reached the senior section of the life library. We were out for brunch at Fork And Vine courtesy of MJ… and Jonathon and I enjoyed speaking with Kathy and Pat with whom we attend church. What lovely people and fun to talk with.

My old friend Steve and I celebrated our birthdays together many years ago since they fell on the same day. We would find a restaurant and enjoy being with each other as we commiserated about the past and the future.

Birthdays are historical markers for me. I look back to where I have been and forward to where I am going. I have my tattoos from 60 and 65 and now the journey to 70. The Golden Years are funny times. Physically they are years of diminishment. Spiritually they are years of wonder. The salad makes the difference! MJ and I are eating a big salad almost every day. I have lost 15 pounds. I am astounded that in my senior years, I like salad! I have noticed over a bit of time that most seniors do not eat a lot of food. Now I have discovered that Intermittent Fasting is all of the rage! I grew up with the concrete motto to eat three square meals per day. I always found it somewhat difficult with round plates. In any case, I am never hungry when I first arise and often not before supper. Now I am one of the cool kids…

I kicked around the idea of doing something different for my birthday this year…but have returned to the traditional favorite of a movie in St. Louis and dinner on The Hill. The enrichment of life and the fun and happiness that we all seek is inherent in the eyes of the ones we love. I recall my birthdays past when I was in my 30s 40s or 50s and how much I relished that I had made it to those ripe old ages. Now I see that life is like a fine wine…it is meant to be savored and sipped slowly and thought about.

Night has fallen on the Writing Porch. Soon it will be October and the mystery will increase. It is inky black this evening. The fog is thick in the air and malice is hovering over the pubs and cobblestone streets.

Annie bemoaned her chosen employment. All she had ever seen of the brighter side of life was the Christmas Pudding on Christmas Day and a bit of baked Goose if she was lucky. She and her husband had three children and one died at the age of 12 while another was disabled. Liquor had become the comfort for her and her husband and soon they were no more a couple. Annie had not wanted to be a woman of the night but all of her visible means of support had dried up.

He was dressed to the nines…he carried himself with the air of importance and professionalism that his station in life afforded. He was more at home on the dark and damp streets than in his brightly lit office.

Catherine and John were together sometimes and at other times they were not. At this time she had to pay the rent. She was glad for the warmth of the jail cell…until she was put back out on the street at 1:00 A:M:.

He had the smile of a winner. His calm and friendly demeanor won the hearts of those he met.

Mary Ann whose friend called Polly. Her ex-husband and she split and he ceased to pay his five shillings child support. William was angry when he heard that Mary Ann was forced to seek additional money on the cold cruel streets of London.

‘Good evening Governor…my you are looking in fine fiddle this evening…,’ said the Bobby. ‘Good evening officer I am out for a stroll and a bit of fresh air,’ said he.

Mary Jane had dark hair. She enjoyed a drink and often more than one. She was asleep when she saw someone standing over her bed.

He loved to whistle. He whistled while he worked.

The haunting sound of a whistle is still heard on the streets of London where the poor live…

Today I met Marquez. Jonathon has been telling me about him for some time. He is an artist and a part of his art is jewelry making. I have heard of positive thinking and positive speaking people and on most occasions, I try to be one, but Marquez has a vision for his jewelry and when he tells you what it is…it is powerful. He assigns a positive word to each of the bracelets that he hand makes. Mine is Balance. When Marqueze speaks of his love of creating…you simply want to go out and create… Marquez and his wife Cree operate their own business Project Human X. He told me that he is having an art show at the Sharp Museum on the campus of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale. Now I have on my wrist a bracelet from each of my sons.

I had a lovely telephone conversation with my lifelong friend Jeff yesterday. He had just sent me a photo of my long-lost twin that I did not know I had. The photo had an uncanny likeness to me and I had to study it awhile before I could be certain that it was not me. Jeff is one of the most positive-thinking people that I know. He even told me that the famous author Norman Vincent Peale’s recordings on YouTube remind him of me at times. Jeff’s mission is to help people and inspire others to strive for success. He and I have been friends for over 50 years. Jeff is a Horatio Algier story…Rags To Riches…and thus has caused countless others to achieve in their lives what he achieved in his.

Marquez told me when I left him earlier today that he hoped that Jonathon and I and he could connect again and create together… I hope so as well…