Time flies when you are having fun. I still refer to the house I live in as ‘The New House.’ Sunday we will have been here for 23 years. Where did the time go?

I vividly recall driving to our address in Carbondale after a 12-hour shift at SIUC and parking in the driveway to ponder our new house…in the dark. I was driving my recently deceased step-father’s vintage Lincoln Continental car…a car that he had wanted all of his life…and I was smoking a big cigar. I thought that perhaps we had purchased a mansion when I compared it to our four-room dwelling. Now do not be dismayed the New House was far from a mansion and I no longer smoke cigars in the vehicles I own…but it was such a dramatic change for our little family which then included my Mom that it seemed like it at the time.

The idea of living in a new century took some time to get accustomed to. I often read of folks who were born in one century and died in the next and wondered how that must have felt…I never thought that I was one of those people.

I was so poor when MJ and I married that I felt like an outsider looking in the windows of prosperity. I watched while others flourished while I worked 16-hour days and had nearly nothing to show for it. I hoped there was a better future for my new bride…and by God’s grace, there was.

It seemed almost immediately after our move on March 10, 2001…9/11 occurred. I feared as did we all what type of century we were embarking on. My thoughts were consumed with my duties at work as the Superintendent of Building Services and the responsibilities that it contained. I had nearly 10 years to go before retirement.

The teens went by rapidly as we were able to take 4 trips to Europe and renew our lifelong friendship with Margo and Jeff. Europe fascinated me and I hope to return.

Aaron and Jonathon became adults in the New House. MJ and I are so proud of both of them and we are together often.

The pandemic came and altered all of our lives. It was a scary time and many people succumbed to the disease. The world changed for all of us.

I took up my desired hobby of writing and have stayed dedicated to it for 12 years. Few hobbies have afforded me more joy and satisfaction. One of my good blogger friends told me that I have a gift…of which I am humbled and quite sure that I do not.

When I think of 30 years ago I assume I am thinking of the 70s…instead of 94. The 90s were a time of transition for me moving from Assistant Superintendent to Superintendent. The leadership position gave me the wonderful opportunity to offer jobs that are careers and to do so to people who had been shut out of opportunities. Nothing was more exciting or fulfilling to me than this honor of facilitating an open door to such talent and ability.

Church and church government intrigues me. Church provides hope for those without hope in today’s elitist society. The poor, the marginalized, and those with no voice have a voice in the Church if it follows Christ’s teachings. If the church is looking for members…open your doors to those who have had doors slammed in their faces…

We purchased a pool table the first year we lived in the New House. It had been a dream of mine since I was a child in Eldorado. I received a miniature pool table for Christmas one year and spent countless hours playing pool on its tiny felt top. Later my friend Dennis would visit the local Pool Hall and enjoy a few games on the regulation-size tables.

We are almost 1/4 through our new century. What will happen in the next 24 years?

I listened to the President say that there was a time he was told that he was too young and now he is told that he is too old. Such is the rollercoaster of life and its magnificent ride…

I watched an intriguing movie last night called Mercy Road. In the movie, a visibly upset man was driving his truck at night and something traumatic had obviously occurred. His cell phone was ringing constantly; he took some calls while others did not. He took one from ‘Unknown’, and the caller spoke in a dulcet and pleasing voice. The driver had semi-regular bouts of screaming and beating the steering wheel of the vehicle and seemed to be on the edge of an emotional cliff. He had seen a photo of his daughter being sexually abused by her stepfather and had subsequently gone to the house of his ex-wife, daughter, and stepfather and murdered the stepfather. His bizarre journey was to find his daughter. Unknown assured him that if he followed his instructions he would reveal where his daughter was and that he could rescue her before she ran out of oxygen. The screaming man on the verge of going over the edge follows the instructions of the seemingly rational caller with the answers needed and at the end of the movie he is killed and his daughter is in the back seat of his truck.

Unknown’s ethereal voice told the daughter that it had been a pleasure to know her and he had enjoyed doing business with her as she smiled.

So it goes…we listen to what appears to be the voice of reason, calmness, and certainty while we drive headlong toward destruction. We are hearers of both the inner voice and of those to whom we listen. It is easy to succumb to an oily and skilled speaker.

Whether it be a habit that harms us, an attitude that is counterproductive to our success…or thoughts from others that we already believe and want to be reinforced…we like to listen to the banal voice of evil.

When a leader tells us to listen only to them and that they have the answer to our problems…watch out. Easy answers are usually wrong. We play the lottery and we take another drink of courage from our favorite vodka or our physician has prescribed a pill for our troubles…yet we have no peace.

Often I was exhorted to make things easier on myself when I was a manager/administrator at Southern Illinois University. I was advised that no one put the extra hours in that I did. After having my staff greatly reduced I was assured that the buildings ‘should’ be dirtier. I was told I need not offer opportunities to people who require extra effort and training.

Have you ever seen a cartoon of a person who has a little angel sitting on the shoulder of a questioning person and a little devil sitting on the other? Or perhaps the hiker who comes to a fork in the road and sees a luxurious green and pleasant trail and the other choice is full of rock and boulders and obstructions of all kinds…

The most memorable and frightening depiction of the devil was a movie that I saw many years ago where a little girl was bouncing a ball as a man and wife were driving a dark foreboding road. She had the look of innocence and love until the last scene where the couple had a car wreck and…and she was now bouncing the man’s head…

‘This is one intense hike,’ Billy B said as he wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘I see a clearing ahead where we can have our picnic lunch,’ he added.

‘I am reluctant to admit that I saw an old man pass us at the beginning of the trail and he just passed me again at the end of our journey,’ Chet said with some amazement as to how the OM could achieve such a mysterious two-time appearance when there was no foreseeable manner that he could have circled around the difficult trail and reappeared at the end of it.

‘His look was dour and he seemed preoccupied with his thoughts, Neva J said as she took the Merlot out of the picnic basket. ‘He looked a bit like my Dad Charles but that could not be possible as Dad has been dead for many years,’ she noted with a quizzical look in her eyes.

‘Have you ever experienced something in a new place and with people who you have never met and yet felt strangely like you had been there before and that you knew the people,’ Jane asked? ‘I visited Oxford and the Pubs as well as the University and felt the strangest sensation when I was in the University Libray that I had been there before,’ Jane went on to say.

‘Roger said just before he died that it had all been one big hoax…meaning life,’ Billy B said. ‘Is it a glitch in a simulation that produces de ja vu and repeating of meeting the same Old Man…or is it an alternate universe bleeding through our veil of reality,’ Billy B asked in earnest.

‘Welcome fellow travelers…please enjoy your lunch before I show you where you really are…look into the mirror and we will begin our enlightened discovery,’ he said with a smile and a wink…

‘You know it has been said that eye hath not seen nor ear heard what God hath prepared for them who love him…come and see your Heaven…Neva J take my hand…

It felt a bit summerish in Little Egypt today. The natural rhythms of Monday are subdued as compared to the weekend. Although Sunday is the actual beginning of the week…Monday is the functional beginning.

I often reflect on the idea of the scripture, ‘In your patience possess ye your souls.’ We are such a touchy and sensitive animal that a look or a word out of place can ruin our day. We hurry to finish our day’s mission. From our point of view, we are the star of the show…when in fact we may be the tambourine player in the large band of life.

Mylo is a kept man…or should I say a kept dog. He toils not neither does he spin yet he is arrayed in a glorious white coat, possesses a wining smile, and has ready kisses for all who desire 1…or 10. Yet as the evening shadows fall and his energies subside he becomes a bit cranky. He announces his displeasure to his mom, me, Jonathon, and Aaron with no apparent rationale or reason but rather a simple dissatisfaction at his belief that we have not seen or heard him adequately. Now…Mylo spends his days playing with MJ taking a nap at her side and then eating blueberries and some cucumbers. He then joins me on the couch where he immediately begins a lengthy nap before sleeping for the night. He stretches and yawns and surveys all of his holdings and knows that he is still master of all within his tiny stride and the sound of his massive bark…

It is a warm and windy Sunday. I always think of Bloody Marys’ on Sunday although the drink is a once in awhile pleasure. The ambiance of dinner with friends and family with some tasty Bloody Marys is a picturesque pleasure.

There is a reason that social situations are based on eating and drinking as they are two of our most relaxing activities. MJ and I had a lovely dinner with our friends Jim and Joan and our talk of the vagaries of age and the affront of its attack on us. I ruminated that when I began to feel the attack of the Golden Years I speculated that perhaps I was the first that had felt and noticed the insidious manner that the first salvo from the front lines of time had swirled over my head as the shrapnel hit me. Joan assured me that we all go through the piling up of birthdays and what they bring with them as we become senior citizens.

We Old Folks speak a language that only we understand…we know it when we see it and feel it. We wink and grin when we hear our youngers speak of their getting old and the maladies that ensue.

There comes a certain settledness with age. Accepting that it is time to make your own decisions without a boss or a commandment giver that we feel compelled to obey. In my youth, I endeavored to comply with silly rules and edicts that seemed harmless in themselves and have decided long ago to listen to the timpani of my own drummer.

Violated is how I feel when a politician or a preacher wants to tell me what my behavior should be according to their vision of my purpose as I see it.

Curmudgeon is not a dirty word when used as a seeker of their own walk in life. Indeed it is an honest outlook on the challenges that you have faced and your ongoing walk back to Jerusalem.

We, old curmudgeons and drummer followers, have much sympathy and empathy for those who are hurting and have been marginalized and forgotten and for those who have no voice. We remember how it felt to be the odd man or woman out. The one who is overlooked while others are sought out for their advice.

Truthful speech is as hard to find as hen’s teeth or perhaps the Gold of Ophir. If we inculcated the valuable lesson of speaking truth to power…we would not be in the precarious position that we find ourselves…

Look we do for the Oracle. We seek the one who will tell us the truth…we say. Truth-seeking is hard work. It requires a bit of digging…much as the Gold Rush miners did for gold. It seems that there is no lack of people who attest that if we listen to them they will reveal the allusive truth to us.

Contrary to public opinion the truth is not always what we want to hear. It is not what Grandma said or even what our parents told us when we were but wee bairns.

Truth-seeking requires some dedication. It calls for an open mind. It requires a settled spirit and a desire to learn.

I noticed somewhat early in life that I heard from some friends when after a lengthy conversation I found that they needed something from me. I took note that administrators at Southern Illinois University certainly knew my phone number when I could be of service to them…but seemed oddly absent when I needed something from them.

Our favorite politician assures us that they have the answer to our troubles. Our favorite preacher is happy to let us in on the secret that they have a direct phone line to God and he has shared with them the secret of happiness…for us…if we will only listen.

Curiosity is essential to the discovery. I was listening to the Fauni Willis Hearing today and the Defense said that the judge must disqualify Ms. Willis from being the DA that tries the Rico Case of which former President Trump is a defendant due to the appearances of impropriety. Not that the evidence proved impropriety but just the appearance. Now if there is an appearance of impropriety there most certainly is ‘The appearance of propriety,’ which is often laid at the Candidate’s feet. To accept his extreme battering of truth and then to cloak it as proper and right and if you can believe it…that he is an ambassador of God…strains credulity.

Many would have us believe that the old rules do not apply to our 21st-century norms. 2+2=4 no longer is true. Bullying name calling and demonization of your fellow human are now alright. Get your riches any way that you can with no regard to the ‘Old Truth’ and as Mad Magazines Alfred E. Newman oft times said, ‘What Me Worry.’

‘Humanists base their understanding of the world on reason and science. Humanists reject all forms of racism and prejudice and believe in respecting and protecting everyone’s human rights, including the right to freedom of religion and belief.’

Could what passes for religion in our seeking world learn from the Humanists…

Today has not been on our calendar for four years. If you are one of the fortunate few born on this day you have not had as many birthdays as the rest of us. Bombas Socks just texted me that I should not endure another second in sub-par socks…

‘If it comes in like a lion it will go out like a lamb,’ Billy B said with a wide grin on his face for his poetic acuity. ‘Spring begins this month, he proudly proclaimed.

‘Today is February 29…Leap Day,’ Jane informed Billy B. ‘I have heard that strange things happen on Leap Day,’ Jane continued.

My friend Horatio was born on Leap Day and I only see him every 4 years,’ Chet said. ‘He will be at school today and we will go out for his favorite hot dogs and I will bring my Oscar Mayer Weiners,’ he continued.

‘Where does Horatio go for the 4 years he is gone,’ Neva J asked? ‘Does he live overseas,’ she asked? ‘He resembles you a bit,’ Neva J told Chet.

‘Horatio says that he lives nearby but it is hard to explain the directions on how to get to his house…he told me that I would feel at home there,’ Chet replied.

‘Greetings my friends…I am enjoying the lovely temperatures in Eldorado. It is so much hotter where I come from,’ Horatio said as he wiped his brow. ‘At times we do not go out of doors because it is over 100 degrees and the air is nasty for breathing,’ he said.

‘Why do you only visit on Leap Day,’ Jane asked? ‘You seem so familiar,’ she noted with anticipation.

‘My Dad had a special admonishment that he said to me each morning when he woke me for school,’ Horatio said with a wink. ‘I am from the future…not the far off future but the near future…50 years from now,’ Horatio said. ‘I visit on Leap Day as that is the day that the Mirror Portal in Neva J’s bedroom will operate.’ ‘I come to eat hot dogs with Chet and see a movie at the Orpheum Theatre…and this time to warn you of what is coming for Eldorado and the world,’ Horatio noted.

‘Hit the deck you rubber neck…is that what your Dad said each morning,’ Chet asked with a tear in his eye?

‘The reason I told you that you would feel at home if you visited me is because we live in the same family home…separated by 50 years…Dad,’ Horatio said…

‘