As we departed our church fellowship hall this past Sunday MJ and I encountered an African American man in a wheelchair. He had one leg with the pant leg tied at the knee. We passed and spoke to him whereupon he asked if I had 50 cents for him to go to a local store and buy some baloney. I gave him more than his request and wondered what store sold baloney for 50 cents. I have been asked for money but never 50 cents. When I gave him some money he rolled out the door and towards the market.

The degradation of poverty is real. I have often thought that a dollar is a lot of money when you do not have one. What goes on in the mind of a hungry person? How does it feel to be so hungry that 50 cents is a big ask?

Proud we are that we have worked hard and succeeded in our capitalist society. We pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps and discovered the blessings of America. Some faiths teach that to serve God is to become wealthy. That train does not stop at all stations.

When I was growing up I knew a lot of poor people. I was one. I wore shoes year-round but the kids the next street over saved their shoes for school and church. For a significant time after I moved out on my own, I survived on sparse rations and my clothes hung from my frame. I was working 12 – 16 hours per day. I understood the meaning of 50 cents.

When our land is beset by economic travail we seek the poorest among us to blame for the dilemma. If it was not for the fruit pickers we would have more. Have you ever picked fruit for a living?

Not long ago a couple of men got out of their pick-up truck and began to retrieve the rubbish from the trash cans. I greeted one and he stared at me. I have emptied rubbish for a living and some stared at me rather than speak.

Not everyone who extends a needy hand is a con. Many live in Dante’s Inferno while we live in Heaven on Earth…

July 4th is breathing down our necks. Time to get serious about fun! After the 4th it is a slippery slope to the beginning of school and then the holidays.

‘I am so excited about Pounds Hollow,’ Neva J said. ‘I have packed the Merlot and Uncle R has a cooler of Coors Light,’ she continued. ‘It is so hot and the water of Hollow is so cool,’ Neva J laughed.

‘On this trip, I will look for sharks,’ Chet proclaimed. ‘I saw some the last time we were swimming by the far bank of the lake,’ he said while grinning.

‘You know it will soon be Shark Week on television,’ Billy B noted. ‘I did not realize that Pounds H had sharks aren’t they found in the ocean,’ he asked?

‘Sharks can turn up in the strangest places,’ Jane said. ‘You remember Jaws,’ she asked? ‘One time I had a dream that a shark was in my bedroom and I invited him to sleep on the floor,’ Jane said laughing.

‘Jamie told me that the love of sharks is a permanent state of mind,’ Billy B noted. ‘She told me that if you imagine a shark it will appear,’ he continued. ‘Jaime has a pet shark in a giant pool in her backyard,’ Billy B said with a wink.

‘I see a fin above the water,’ Neva J said with trepidation. ‘She called out loudly…shark…shark…shark,’ and folks began to run in the water as fast as you can run in water as fear gripped the beach full of July 4th revelers.

‘I am swimming out to see if it is really a shark,’ announced Jaime. ‘I know sharks and if a shark is in this lake it will be a first,’ she proclaimed!

‘Hi Jaime,’ said Chet. ‘I thought I would add some excitement to the Independence Day Festivities,’ he said with a wink. ‘I purchased this shark fin from Universal Studios it looks real,’ he laughed.

‘We need to get out of here,’ Uncle R proclaimed! ‘I have seen shark fins before and that is attached to a real shark as he quaffed another Coors Light.

‘Do not worry about Chet with the fake Universal Studios Shark Fin…there is a real shark on the right side of the rope of no return and he is visiting with Jamie,’ Neva J announced.

‘Jaime you are a good friend,’ Shark said with a toothy smile. ‘No harm will come to anyone today we sharks know our friends and love to be around them, Shark continued. ‘I had a big lunch of minnows and sardines which are delicious but it takes a lot of them to fill up,’ Shark continued. ‘I had some eels as well but they are so spicy do you have any Tums,’ Shark asked…

Every time I feel like the old saying, ‘Let John Do It’ I remind myself that this is what we all want to keep continuing…life. We speak of it philosophically and theologically but the practical application is ‘Keep Moving!’ I spoke with a friend this morning at church and we talked of photography and art. I mentioned that I snap photos while I walk I have been walking daily for many years. She told me it was good that I could still walk for health. I pondered I did not know another way to live.

The temptation to move less and think more increases with age. Movement is life. Movement causes the synapse to fire and brain fog dissipates. I noticed in Paris that the elderly were as active as the young only slower and with determination.

Abigail slowly walked with her walker into the sanctuary. Each step was a determined effort of herculean willpower. Abigail smiled at each congregant that she encountered on her step-by-step journey. She sat down slowly in the pew of the church she had been a member of all her life. She and her husband Hershel were in their 90s. They always had smiles on their faces. They appeared beatific. Their eyes were the eyes of children. Their words were serene like the sound of many waters. Their voices were beautiful. When Abigail read the scriptures publically she had the bearing of a prophet. The same struggle to move and walk and negotiate the pitfalls that the young do not know of was Abigail’s journey that she took with the determination of a prizefighter. When she spoke it was as if you were there. The sanctuary evaporated into the words of the Bible. Abigail and Hershel were there with the baby born in a manger. They sat on the hay admiring the gift that only God can give…life…

On my Saturday walk, I tried a new filter on my camera that reminded me of old bright photos of my youth. It is amazing how color affects our senses. MJ and I discussed later in the afternoon what color we wanted to paint our front door. As I have snaped thousands of photos I am keenly aware of the Sun’s effect on the finished product.

We live on a majestic work of fine art. Artists become experts in En plein air painting which is painting outdoors. En plein air enables the artist to capture the changes in weather and light.

What if our animal friends are smarter than we think? They watch as we humans attempt to dominate and subdue them and our mutual home. As we strive to obtain the political power that will place our party and us at the zenith of the mountain they wonder as the parking attendant in Philedelphia told me, ‘What you crying about Man.’

We want to add to the story of life and for our part to be recorded as a major character. The deer fox squirrels and birds are happy with their role. They would be content playing the tambourine if they were in a band.

Jimmy Buffett was continually searching for his lost shaker of salt. He sang of the Caribbean and the peaceful beauty and lifestyle. So fully did he captivate the imagination of his fans that they created a facsimile of his music in their daily lives. Caribbean clothes and the barefoot look took them to their happy place. ‘He portrayed a lifestyle known as Island Escapism.’

Search we do for somewhere other than where we are. As my friend who had lived at the foot of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado said, she could see them out her living room window and soon they did not become so special. The old television commercial portrayed a harried mother saying Calgon Take Me Away…

We are inside the painting. So close that it is easy to forget we are a vital character in the fine art of the Earth.

Rich we are but poor in spirit. Looking for Armageddon and preparing for the end of the world. Focused on the protection of me and mine and no time to think of all of the others.

Protest we do for our rights as Americans. Our native clan sings in the chorus. We will return our country to God as he sits next to us taps our shoulders and says…times up…

‘I love a good monster flick,’ Billy B said with abandon. ‘I hope Chet does not forget that we are meeting at the Orpheum Theatre this afternoon for the summer matinee,’ he continued. ‘Frankenstein in June is a treat,’ Billy B said while laughing.

‘Where have you been,’ Chet asked Billy B? ‘It is almost time for the movie to begin. ‘Frankenstein and I had a chat,’ Chet continued. ‘He says that he is misunderstood and would like to be depicted as a loving cigar-smoking reanimated figure,’ Chet continued. ‘He said that when he threw the little girl in the water in the Boris Karloff movie he assumed she would enjoy it,’ Chet grinned.

‘You mean you spoke with the real Frankenstein,’ Jane shuddered.

‘Yes he was wearing a top hat and tails and is quite a singer,’ Chet noted. ‘He performed with Dr. Frankenstein on stage to thunderous applause,’ Chet stated.

‘Was he singing Puttin On The Ritz,’ Billy B asked? ‘No he sang I Can’t Give You Anything But Love and afterward, he did a comedy routine where his catch line was, ‘I can’t get no respect with a comedian in a rumpled suit,’ Chet said with a wink.

‘Why hello Frank what is the good word,’ Chet asked?

‘I just returned from the Cigar Store and bought you all some Cohibas,’ Frank N Stein said with a grin. ‘Cigars…good…,’ he said.

‘Did Mrs Stein come with you,’ Jane asked?

‘She was going to but was having difficulty fixing her hair I will never get accustomed to her scream,’ Frank said with a wry grin. ‘Come back to my house and I will make you my famous Old Fashioneds,’ Frank said. I will make a movie that will tell my story correctly and call it…’I Can’t Get No Respect,’ he laughed.

The first day of summer is upon us. Time for the department stores to begin displaying their fall selections. It is the time that I anticipate the ‘Ber’ months. The brilliant green of the woods is compelling.

In Eldorado, the parents encouraged their kids to go outside until the street lamps began to flicker. I enjoyed catching fireflies. Summer was the focused time to think and do all those outside activities I could not do in the cold months. There were fewer rules and sometimes none. Now would be the time to plan where to obtain firecrackers in Illinois where their sale was illegal. That made it all the more fun.

When I began at Southern Illinois University in 1978 my first boss told me that he enjoyed hot weather of the kind where the sweat rolled down his back to the crack of his ass.’ I thought too much information.

When we went to Pounds Hollow we were resigned to getting a sunburn and a tan. Tanning lotion was a hot commodity. We wanted to be as dark-skinned as possible. People lay on the hot beach for hours with the women undoing their bikini tops to have a uniform tan on their backs. I wondered what was on the other side.

Innocence was our permanent condition. Neva J lectured me to never use the Lord’s name in vain and the F word was not in our public vocabulary. Dennis W and I saw a Saturday matinee and then walked to Dairy Queen to purchase a pack of Marlborough cigarettes. We walked down the railroad tracks engaged in the mission of smoking ten Marlbourghs each in a rapid fashion.

In those early summers, I had a bicycle that looked like a motorcycle. It was 20 inches and with my long legs, it was a concerted effort to pedal. I imagined that the motor was running courtesy of the playing card fastened in the spokes. I was a unique cyclist with my bicycle/motorcycle.

Have you ever lit a Cherry Bomb? It is a firecracker on steroids. Half of the thrill was the fear of lighting it and throwing it before it ignited. Usually, our fun was limited to sparklers worms, and watching the fireworks display at the Starlit Drive Inn. We did not go to the Drive Inn we watched the show from Grandma A front porch. Safe and secure and enraptured with the light show.

Hot and hotter was our existence in our little rural home. We had no air conditioning. There was a box fan in the kitchen window and we opened our bedroom windows a few inches to facilitate the fan exhausting the hot air from our home and bringing in the cooler air through the cracked bedrooms. It was sweat city. We dreamed of a thunderstorm or a summer rain to cool the air. The sheets were wet with our suffering. We thought cool thoughts but they did not seem to help.

Pounds Hollow Lake was our savior. It was an aquatic world. The Sun had no effect on the cool water. Plans could be constructed in the murky depths. Thoughts of triumph and adversity melted in the peaceful surroundings. I learned to swim but not very well but I could float like a beach ball. I floated beyond the rope of no return to the scary other bank far away from the maddening crowd. I was the captain of my ship and the master of my soul.

Neva J and I sat with Aunt Guelda and Grandma A on her massive front porch and discussed family and friends’ faith and the struggle to survive. We knew that the Vietnam War was raging and not only Cousin Billy but Brenda’s husband Danny Doris was going to have to go, We feared the worst. Uncle Dutch had gone missing in World War II.

The Orpheum was an Oasis from the summer heat. Many Friday nights Saturdays and Sundays were spent in its cool confines. Elvis and John Wayne and Frankenstein and Dracula to keep us company. They did not like the heat any more than we did. We were comfortable in the air-conditioned dark with them.

The Pool Hall was air-conditioned. Dennis W and I went there after the Marlborough railroad walk. There were people there who appeared to have witnessed the seamy side of life. We shot some games and knew we were as big as any dog in the pound…

Jonathon and I saw a lovely movie yesterday called In And Out 2. It had been so long since In And Out that I did not recall it until I saw the characters illustrating the girl’s emotions at their control panel in her head. The famous angry comic Lewis Black was the red gremlin of anger.

We like to think that we are of sugar, spice, and everything nice when we all have some snails and puppy dog tails. Not that there is anything wrong with that Jerry Seinfeld would tell us. All of our emotions make us who we are. We are a complex creation.

We all make mistakes daily. We are residents of Assumptions, a vast city containing rooms hidden in rooms and doors that open into large falls. We are angry with others and do not remember why. We do not speak up for fear of embarrassment. We have anxiety based on our experiences both real and assumed.

It is not the falling it is the getting back up. In fact, most of life is ‘Get Up.’ Success is just within our grasp if we get up and continue down life’s magical and mystical road.

Emotions are our constant companions. Soon we will have a Presidential Election and many of us will vote according to our emotions. We rely on instinct and intuition. Facts are as dry as leaves in December. Emotions often replace the rudder of our ship. I have witnessed people quit good jobs because their instinct told them to do so.

Alice In Wonderland is the home for many of us. We enjoy living in our fantasy construct. If we could see inside each other’s heads what a vision of a pleasant land it would be.

One of my favorite movies as a youngster was The Wizard Of Oz. In those days it only came on once a year and that was a holiday.

‘Mylo we are not in Kansas anymore,’ said Jane. ‘That was a heck of a storm at one point it felt like it took the car that Earl was driving and spun it in the air,’ she continued.

‘Woof…Woof…Woof,’ said Mylo.

‘Look ahead three people are coming down what appears to be a yellow brick road,’ Chet announced.

‘Greetings I am The Cowardly Lion and I am looking for someone to wear this hot Lion’s Suit for an hour so that I may take a swim in Pounds Hollow,’ CL said.

‘I will wear it,’ Chet said with bluster. ‘I have always wanted to be the Cowardly Lion.

I will wear the Scarecrow outfit if you need a break for a swim,’ Neva J said. ‘I think I could be a good Scarecrow,’ she continued.

‘Oh I would love that it has been so long since I swam in the Hollow,’ Scare C said.

‘Take it off Tin Man I am your guy to give you a respite while I keep the Tin dry,’ Billy B said with a laugh.

‘Don’t the Cowardly Lion Scarecrow and the Tin Man look as free as birds on the wing,’ Neva J said as she removed a pesky piece of straw from her ear.

‘They are swimming all the way to the far bank I can barely see them,’ Billy B said.

‘I do not think that they are coming back we are the new ensemble,’ Chet observed.

‘Yes my pretties you are the replacements enjoy Oz,’ said The Wicked Witch Of The West…

‘June is Bustin’ Out All Over,’ says the rollicking song from Carousel. June always reminds me of the fleeting of each season. As a lad, I waited for summer break for nine months and when it came there was June in all her glory of endless fun days at Pounds Hollow. Sleeping until noon was an option along with BLTs for breakfast and bicycle rides to Eldorado every day I chose. Shooting my pellet gun and pretending I was Daniel Boone. Staying up past bedtime and even watching a late movie or Joey Bishop. June was a magical month…and then it was gone.

July 4th came, and it was almost time to shop for back-to-school clothes, paper, pencils, and good erasers. We returned to school during the second half of August and the Summer Clock was racing to the conclusion of nirvana. The old folks told me that time flies when you are having fun. So, after the 4th it was a slippery slide. The days seemed to grow shorter as they really were and the grin on Neva J’s face seemed bigger with each passing moment.

There were weekly visits to the Starlite Drive Inn and the special Drive Inn Food. The speaker felt like it was made of iron and we hung it on on car window whereupon you could not shut the window all of the way due to the massive sound device, bugs invaded the inside space of the car. Many entered the Drive Inn through their car trunk and did not emerge until it was almost dark.

Carnivals were attended. Rough-hewn people operated the rides and when you smiled at them they did not smile back. They had seen little kids before. The mystery of the Freak Shows was compelling. How did the headless man eat and speak with no head? What was everyone whistling and calling out about when the man in the pink pants invited adults to come in and watch the exciting show? Cotton Candy was as sweet as sugar. In those days we sometimes won kewpie dolls if we succeded at the skill of shooting the ducks off of their bank with the little tethered guns.

What cruel irony that summer or movies swimming picnics and being my own boss ended in a moment. Soon there would be demands and goals deadlines and pop quizzes.

Christmas was coming…

Many of us who have reached the Golden Years are familiar with the admonition Take Once daily. The instructions are also how to approach life. We live in the future. We live in the past. We have active brains. Our real-time life is occurring as I write this piece and it will transpire as you read it. A photo gives the subject of the picture the moment you snap it. It will look different a moment later. Each moment is important.

Each holiday I think about the holiday before. Those are not today. Today is unique. MJ and I enjoyed a movie the other evening where the character played a psychologist who told his class that they are made up of their experiences and thus different experiences would make them different. Later his life experiences proved his hypothesis.

So, life is new every morning and every moment. It is a wild ride and the ultimate adventure. Life is mysterious and we have yet to ascertain its depths. It morphs like a fun house mirror. It has the multi-colors of a kaleidoscope. It has the scares of a Stephen King novel. It has the thrill of a rollercoaster.

Happy Father’s Day…