Brock Aaron Jonathon and I remember actor Charlie Sheen saying that people were jealous of him because he had tiger blood and was winning. Sadly in those halcyon days of Mr. Sheen, he was in a world of his own making, and to the casual observer, he certainly was not winning.

Waiting for Godot is tiring. While waiting, we seek our object of enlightenment in the company of those who share our frustrations and worldviews. If we were raised rough we seek others who had the same experience. If we are misunderstood we misunderstand others who are a bit different than we are. Godot is elusive.

Our affinity to join a group that reflects our experiences is powerful. Acceptance is the prize as we want to proclaim…Winning!

‘I wonder why Sally sits alone each day at lunch,’ Jane said. ‘She seems to have no friends and Julia makes fun of her clothing and how her hair looks,’ she continued.

‘I saw her crying yesterday in the cloakroom,’ Billy B mentioned. ‘Her Mom passed away at the beginning of the school year and she must now care for her little brother while her Dad works nights,’ Billy B continued.

‘Have you seen her art, it is exciting,’ Chet offered. ‘Sally paints in the Van Gough style,’ Chet said with a broad smile. ‘It seems that she is friendless due to Julia and her entourage deciding that she was an outcast,’ Chet said with a downcast look.

‘Hi Sally, may we join you for lunch,’ Jane asked? ‘Chet was telling us about your fine art and we would like for you to show your pieces in our local Art Show later this month,’ Jane said as she put her arm on her shoulder.

‘I did not know anyone knew about my painting, I do it in the evening while I am watching Jimmy my little brother,’ Sally said with a tear in her eye. ‘Painting makes me feel accepted, I miss my Mom so much,’ she continued.

‘First prize is awarded to Sally S for her painting…Waiting For Godot,’ the Judge said…

Enjoy the moment. Billions of moments make up our lives. We seek the big event and it is in front of our faces. Moments are the snapshots of our time here on Earth.

I saw the movie Civil War yesterday and it was jarring. The idea of our Good And Pleasant Land being torn apart was difficult to watch. Americans are accustomed to peace and tranquility, we do what we want and act as we please. We assume that everyone is enjoying life as we do. Our favorite restaurant welcomes us and holidays are a basic tenant of our yearly calendar. We worship where we choose, stay at home, or visit the woods for spiritual nourishment.

Constructive criticism is our birthright we exercise it daily.

The sudden report and crack of a semiautomatic weapon is frightening.

I sit on the Writing Porch and feel like I am in Maine. The birds are singing. The Great White Heron is fishing. I have returned from the woods where no one interfered with my daily walk and photography session. I pulled into Aldi’s grocery and the nice lady brought my groceries to my car. Surrounded by peace in a land of many strifes. When these strifes boil over we are surprised and dismayed. Why are there so many unhappy people?

Who is winning? Why must life be a zero-sum game? When you are hungry there is no peace. Persecution brings no peace. Marginalization and prejudice make it difficult to see the Good And Pleasant Land from your blanket that is next to your shopping cart holding all of your earthly possessions.

Live vicariously through our good fortune we say to the poor and the hungry those who have no voice.

We are proud Americans fighting and dying for our brothers and sisters from Missouri, Kentucky, California, and Texas. If you look like the image we see in our mirror and you sound like us you are us.

Who are all of these people who make up the Melting Pot of America? We did not live next door to them nor know their mama or dad. Did we play stickball with them or were they at our high school prom?

We just had our boil water order lifted but our nation is boiling, we all want to partake of the Good And Pleasant Land…

It seems that only yesterday 2024 was a baby in the stroller. Soon she will be middle-aged. Kids grow up quick. Or as Jonathon’s Aunt Marcy told him over the weekend she remembered rolling him in his stroller and it seems like yesterday and now he is 40.

So life passes too fast. ‘Never put off to tomorrow what you can do today because tomorrow may never come.’ As I grow older I learn each day that I do not have the answers to life’s persistent questions. I am humbled by my lack of knowledge. Most communication should be listening and talking is overrated.

We are all fragile. We are all needy. We are all lonely. We live in our heads most of the time. Our life is in front of our eyes and we search for it on one of our bevy of screens.

We are changing. Talk about a pluralistic society but our understanding is limited. Talk solves little unless the words come from our hearts.

Folks have been hidden for too long. They want to be accepted. We all want to be seen. We want a seat at the table.

‘Come home come home it’s suppertime the shadows lengthen fast. Come home come home it’s suppertime were going home at last.’ Ferlin Husky

It has been a warm and pleasant Sunday. The conclusion of Jonathon’s 40th Birthday Weekend with a wonderful visit from Marcy and Brock to put the cherry on top!

A marvelous dinner last night and let me say that the crab cakes were king. When Brock and Marcy come to see us the time flies by so quickly it seems like a few minutes. However, this time afforded us some extra exciting plans. We will proceed with a writing project we first discussed in Maine last fall. The feeling of joyful anticipation was palpable as we brainstormed on the Writing Porch! There will be upcoming illustration collaborations and even media events on YouTube… It will be a Family Affair and will be a life-changing event. Every now and then the Muse sits on our shoulders. You experience clarity as to the next steps a few times in life, and this is one of those times.

Be on the lookout for something completely different and profoundly original.

It is a lovely day in Southern Illinois. We eagerly anticipate the arrival of Marcy and Brock. Or I as I last referred to him,’ Puddin.’ Of course by some stretch of the imagination I had achieved the nickname of, ‘Big Girl’ in Maine and I do not recall just how it happened. We had a wonderful time and stayed in a haunted house. We also had much fun with the word derivative, ‘Feckin.’ I think I had a bit more fun than even Brock, if possible.

So today will be a Holiday At Home for the Brooks. We have snacks, cool beverages, and Killing the Fatted Calf this evening at Global Gourmet.

Last night was the beginning of The Holiday with Jonathon’s Birthday Dinner at the Freight House in Paducah, Kentucky. The Shephard’s Pie was the best that I have had in a restaurant. At times I have taken to calling Aaron 42 and Jonathon 40. Where did the time go? MJ and I have been married for over 46 years and are planning on enjoying another Holiday when we reach 50…perhaps another Fatted Calf and a Dirty Martini.

As I looked at MJ last night I thought as I often do, how pretty she is. She is whip-smart and beautiful and she would do anything for her children. Aaron and Jonathon are fortunate to have such a mother…

In about 2 hours Jonathon turns 40. He was born near midnight and MJ and I thought he might be born on Friday the 13th. He was an explorer from the beginning and soon was climbing out of his crib and the sound of his feet hitting the floor and his infectious laugh!

Jonathon is a patient man. He loves everyone. I have never heard him gossip. He does not judge. When he is hurt he returns kindness. He like his brother Aaron illustrated for me what I wish I could have been at their ages.

Jonathon and Aaron are out with their friends as I am writing. They have a lot of friends. Their Mom is the love of my life and my sons and MJ are my entire reason for living.

I falter a bit but they do not remind me…they are kind and they are good. Birthday Dinner in Paducah tomorrow night and then a visit with Brock and Marcy on Saturday and Sunday or a banner birthday weekend…

Neva J sang the song, ‘We Are Marching To Pretoria,’ often and with gusto during my formative years. It seemed to be a song of inspiration in the 1960s and a motivational song for her to sing to inspire me.

Billy B understood when he heard Neva J sing the Marching song that it was time to get up and get going and do what a good man or boy needed to do. Excuses were plentiful but results were what she required.

Marching to Pretoria was a popular song in the ’60s and was in several school books and sung in music classes of the day.

‘The women’s March took place on 9 August 1956 in Pretoria, South Africa. The marchers’ aims were to protest the introduction of the Apartheid pass laws for black women in 1952 and the presentation of a petition to the then Prime Minister J.G. Strijdom.’

For Neva J the song’s meaning was to get up and make something happen. This included working by the sweat of your brow on many occasions. Manual labor was often referred to as the chosen career for untold midwesterners. College was not our first goal and perhaps not our second or third. There were the coal mines, farming, and many factories in our region where men and women obtained their wages every Friday.

The march to Pretoria was synonymous with our shared march through life with all of its vacillating vicissitudes and vagaries. Through the good times and those which are not so good we march on. Life is movement. Success is getting back up after you are knocked down.

Own your actions even those that in retrospect may embarrass you a bit. If what you have done represents who you are then it is original and unique.

There is no road map…there is the march to Pretoria…

‘To build your own, get a carton and cut a hole in one side, big enough to poke your head through. Paste white paper on the inside surface that you will be facing. Then punch a pinhole into the opposite side, high enough so that the little shaft of light will miss your head.’ Life magazine. ‘A final word from Life: ‘Don’t forget to come out for air.’

‘Well here we are in the year of our Lord 1962 and we are going to have a total Solar Eclipse in February,’ said Chet triumphantly! ‘Mr. Gray said that it must not be missed and gave us all instructions on how to safely view the Solar event that he got from Life magazine, he continued.

‘I hear that President Kennedy and Jackie will be using the Viewing Box to take in the bloting out of the Sun, Jane said. ‘Wouldn’t it be cool to watch it with your eyes directly, she added.

‘You do know that my friend Mylo gave me special glasses to see the Eclipse through that will enable the viewing of it without any danger,’ Billy B said as he smiled a wide toothy grin. ‘Mylo is from out of town and he told me where but I did not recognize the name of the place where he lives, Billy B went on to say.

‘Was it near Pounds Hollow as I recall you talking with a rather strange fellow when we were there last summer,’ Neva J asked? She noted that he was wearing a silver jumpsuit and removed a helmet from his head so that I thought he might have been diving in the lake.

‘Mylo told me that he was from Mars and had seen the Sun and the Moon close up and had even walked on the Moon,’ Billy B answered. ‘I thought that he must be from Harrisburg as you know they are prone to tall tales,’ Billy B laughed.

‘Can you get some more of the special glasses for Neva J Chet and me,’ Jane asked?

‘Your wish is Mylo’s command as he left a pair for each of you,’ Billy B exulted!

‘Oh my goodness I see the Sun perfect and the Moon gliding across its face,’ Neva J said as she laughed a giddy laugh.

‘You know this is a bit of a spiritual experience, Billy B said with a tear in his eye.

‘Have you looked around you as we are not in Eldorado anymore,’ Chet queried?

‘Welcome to Mars my friends and please do not take your glasses off until we return to my home as they are providing you oxygen, Mylo said with a smile.

There was quite a crowd at Blue Sky Vineyards today. Music playing and picnic on the ground.

As I peered through the Eclipse glasses I noticed that the Sun was reducing dramatically. Soon it was a sliver of itself. There were Eclipse T-shirts and Eclipse wine glasses.

The feeling of awe and inspiration during the almost 5 minutes of Totality was palpable. Crickets began to chirp and the birds headed for their nests only to see a very short night.

We discussed that the next solar eclipse is 20 years from now and were speculating about whether we would be around to see it. Although time goes by quickly. A bit like a Weaver’s Shuttle.

Life is like a rollercoaster, up and down and side to side. Somewhat like the Sun rarely is eclipsed but when it is it is a doozy.

Jonathon told me that the Eclipse Party is still going strong in Carbondale. After all, you do not have a total solar eclipse every day.

As I was snapping photos of the Chalk Art drawn by students from high schools across Southern Illinois there was a young man about college age who was merrily skipping between the masterpieces and photographing each. I had not seen anyone skip in a long time.

A total solar eclipse is a reason to skip. This is a special time. Our somewhat sleepy city is alive with people concerts and vendors of all sorts. Cannabis is legal in the Land Of Lincoln and it might aid in the skipping.

Help and hope come from mysterious places. We are a species who are addicted to extremes. Some of us are totally focused on what our minister and church believe and our literal interpretation of every word of the Bible… except those that we do not like. Some of us are extremely dedicated to science and what it tells us. Jesus is like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. Some of us seek to understand the infinite.

Solar Eclipse will mean different things to different people. It will be a harbinger of disaster for many. It will be a beautiful event for others. It will be a reality check for some that we live in a riddle wrapped in an enigma.

As we peer into space and the event of a lifetime we see ourselves looking back. We are constructed from atoms and atoms do not die. We are looking at where we came from and pondering the way back.