We are told that it is all in how we look at something that yields perspective. Empathy is contagious. Caring for others is catching on.

It is either being wrapped up in our cares and woes or working to relieve our fellow travelers’ cares and woes…the latter is more fun.

‘We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted but not forsaken, cast down but not destroyed.’ II Corinthians 4: 8-9

‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.’ Proverbs 17:22

I believe we are heading into Good Medicine times.

It is a lovely sunshine day but often we live among the shadows. Life is a heady mixture of supreme joy and abject despair. We ride on the rainbow of life often at its zenith then plummet to the bottom only to find no pot of gold. Frequently we dwell in the shadows.

Feeling good one day only to be sick the next. Wondering what its grip is on you, fearing the mysterious Covid 19. Illness stops the Game Clock. When we are at the height of our revelry and all is right with the world we hit a brick wall.

‘Well I don’t quite know where we are the light is dimming and shadows are on the trees,’ Chet said. ‘Did you hear the whispering voices,’ Chet asked? ‘One said rest here while another said hurry forward,’ Chet explained. ‘I told the shadows that we were lost in the Dark Wood and needed a guide to assist us,’ he said.

‘I have been having the strangest dreams that seem like reality,’ Billy B said. ‘I am in conference with people discussing a coming calamity that I know nothing of,’ Billy B continued. ‘They speak of worlds to come and my place in the plan yet it sounds like gibberish,’ he continued.

‘I had the distinct feeling that someone was following me only to look behind me and see a shadow much larger than me with a trenchcoat and fedora hat on its head,’ Jane said with a quiver. ‘The Shadow said that things will get brighter around the corner,’ Jane smiled. ‘Dad has been sick and we are all so worried but the Shadow told me he was going to get better,’ Jane noted with a tear in her eye.

‘The Shadow told me to not forget when we leave their land and to show mercy to others who are still there,’ Chet said. ‘All must experience their land and from the lesson, they will learn the Secret,’ Chet said with satisfaction…

We have left the 90s for a while. It is a welcome reprieve. The Writing Porch is pleasant. Southern Illinois University begins classes today. When I was working there it was one of my favorite days. The excitement and energy was palpable. Opportunity awaits at every entrance to the campus.

During my 32-year 2 month 3 week career I became an inclusive internationalist. I had friends from all over the world. I realized that we are more alike than different.

University can afford you a sense of place and purpose. The dreams of others become your dreams. The hopes of others your hopes. It is a good model for world peace.

Friends ask a little of you. Friends are those for whom you want to do much. Friends look at you through the eyes of love not the judgment of doctrine. Friends do not give up on you when they disagree with you after all you are their friend.

I am on the Writing Porch and it is almost dark. Our year is proceeding toward its end. Not yet my writing colleagues will point out but certainly on the road to dark and cold nights. My kind of weather. My brother Brock told me he likes cloudy and rainy days. So do I. The sweater and jacket weather is good. The last four months of the year…the Ber Months renew my spirit. I have returned home. Walking today at the Woods, I felt like I was walking through water. I will not miss that feeling.

I did not care for summer when I was a kid. I did like summer vacation. I remember I was never cool. It was hot when I awoke and hot when I went to bed. The window fan in the kitchen did little to ameliorate the agony. A bit of respite came when a storm occurred.

We had bagels this morning courtesy of Aaron. He is a good boy! Many of my adventures are local of late. However, the Maine Holiday is just around the corner. MJ reminded me of what a nice life we have. A calm and serene home. Reliable vehicles. A relative lack of fear. A Holiday in-store and the money to pay for it. It was not always so. We remember the tough times. We remember that a few cared. We asked for nothing and yet were recipients of love. Life seems like a long story. It is short and sweet. Enjoy every minute…even summer…

I carry a Walking Stick that Jonathon gave me for Father’s Day. I think about the stick every day. The movie The Ten Commandments with Charlton Heston fascinated me. I was mesmerized by the story of Moses. He did not fear Pharoh. Moses had God on his side. His Staff transformed into a snake and ate the Staff of Pharoh’s Magicians, Moses placed his Staff into the water and it turned into blood. Moses held out his Staff and the Red Sea parted and the Israelites crossed over on dry land. Pharoh’s Army drowned all 666 of the chariots.

We seek answers to life’s persistent questions while the answer is within us. I have been in the Lodge at Giant City so many times that I am known. It is fun to be known. Our sense of place comes to us organically from our relationship with our community. A waitress pats me on the back while the owner calls out to me. I am part of the Tree River Wildlife community. I am the Old Man Of The Woods.

Reflect I do on my lengthy career at SIUC. Consumed I was by the machinations of the powerful elite. Study I did how to enter the unawares and incognito to the club just long enough to gain something for the people I represented.

So, September is two weeks away. September is the beginning of Meteorological Fall. It is time to place the Thinking Cap upon my gray-haired head. It is time to address the world as an Old Man sees it. It is time to help somebody…

‘I do not remember the desks being so small,’ said Billy B. ‘At times they seemed quite large,’ he continued. ‘Once there was ink left in the ink well and I got it on my new shirt,’ Billy B mused.

‘The desks with the lids where you could place all your academic gear seemed like my office,’ Chet laughed. ‘I relished the role of scholar,’ said Chet. ‘ The beginning of each school year I determined that this is the year that I set my sights on becoming a doctor, ‘ Chet smiled.

‘It was so hot when we began school,’ Jane observed. ‘I felt as if I would melt,’ she said. ‘ I loved twirling practice which began the first day of class,’ Jane beamed.

‘I do not think our teachers made much money,’ Daryl noted. ‘I recall Mr. Beard brought his lunch in a brown paper sack and that he worked pumping gas in the summer,’ said Daryl. ‘Mr. Beard greeted me one day when Neva J was getting gas for the 57′ Chevy,’ Daryl remarked.

‘The fear of guns never entered my mind in those halcyon days,’ Jane considered. ‘There were a few bullies full of hot air,’ she said. ‘Our school felt sanctuary and safe,’ Jane said with a tear.

‘I remember duck-and-cover,’ Billy B grinned. ‘There were 3 recesses a day,’ he chuckled. ‘The ice-cold milk from the machine was to die for,’ Billy B laughed.

‘I preferred the glue over the paste,’ Chet remarked. ‘I loved when the teacher rolled in the movie projector for a film,’ he smiled broadly. ‘Sometimes I napped a little while the lights were off,’ Chet winked.

‘Remember the day that JFK was assassinated the principal announced it over the speaker system,’ Billy B asked? ‘School was dismissed and I walked home to find Neva J crying,’ Billy B said sadly. ‘The world changed and we were there to witness the transformation,’ Billy B whispered…

‘I still fit at my desk there are my initials carved in the wood,’ Jane exulted! ‘I laughed all the time everyone was my friend,’ Jane said happily…

‘So many of our classmates are gone,’ Chet noted with dignity. ‘We were at the beginning of things now we are at the end,’ he said. ‘I would like to do it again,’ he dreamed…

‘Settle down please, Mrs. K. told the first-grade class at Hillcrest School please tell the class each of your names beginning with the first row,’ she said.

‘My name is Billy B and I know how to write my name on the chalkboard if you want me to show you,’ Billy B proudly announced. ‘I have been writing my name for some time ever before we moved from Chicago,’ Billy B ascertained. ‘Several people have commented on how well I write my name,’ Billy B assured Ms. K.

‘Please come forward and demonstrate your name-writing skill for the class, said Mrs. K. ‘While Billy B is coming forward Chet would you please remove your hat and place it in the Cloak Room,’ Mrs. K asked.

‘Billy B that is not your name but appears similar to Cuneiform Script interesting for further examination,’ Mrs. K. smiled. ‘You may take your seat,’ she said…

As a lad, I found talking to old men enjoyable. I was a member of a church that was almost all elderly people. Now I am a member of a church primarily comprised of senior citizens or members of the Golden Years Club. The difference is I am no longer a lad but a member in good standing of the Senior Section.

It is said that we old folks do not change. We are set in our ways. We no longer read the instructions. The familiar becomes precious. Surprises shock us. Change calcifies our resolve. Youth informs us of the new ways. The fresh as dew on the Lilly 50-somethings. We know they have not seen what we have. They have not heard what we heard. They have not felt what we felt.

The revelation is that the young tell us many things we have not experienced. Our youthful friends are multicultural and multiracial. They were born with a computer in their crib. They attend school daily fearing for their lives. They witness wars that last 20 years. They seek God but not in a hymnal. They have skill sets that are not for a 32-year career at one job.

Climate change is here. We oldsters know we will not live to see the worst of it. The generations behind us wonder where it will end.

Baby Boomers were taught to get a good job and a home car. Money is the answer. Riches erase dividing class lines. A vacation a year is the goal of the suburban dream…

We are on the train that is rapidly clickety-clack down the track. The Old Man watches with keen interest. He remembers when he was a boy. He recalls the mystery of the Old…

For many years I have been intrigued by cults. They come in many forms. The Jonestown Massacre caught my interest when on November 18, 1978, 918 people died at the behest of their Leader Jim Jones. I had just begun working at Southern Illinois University the month before. Suddenly I realized that good people could be brainwashed in mass by a religious leader. I wondered how many more of these damaging groups there were.

Raelians are members of the cult of Claude Vorilhon, a French singer and Journalist. They believe that ‘ humans originated from alien scientists who came to earth in UFOs.’

A red flag identifying a cult is demanded subservience to the group’s leader. This includes the giving of your money and time to the betterment of the cause with the leader being demonstrably the beneficiary of your efforts.

I learned that nothing succeeds like thinking for yourself. Questions to ask are; why is your leader lying to you, why is your leader rich and you and your fellow supplicants are poor?

We humans seek a cause to celebrate attach ourselves to and belong. To be a true believer we affix blinders on our heads ignore evidence our eyes reveal and associate ourselves with others who have made the big step into alternate reality. It is good to be a part of a group we say.

Cults are noted for those they do not include. All who do not accept without question the doctrine of the great leader are prohibited from entrance to the chosen. When the leader is involved with your personal life and family identity you may be a member of a cult. If the great leader tells you to give up your finances until it hurts you may be a member of a cult. When the great leader enjoys hearing gossip about your fellow church members…

Political cults exist. Hitler headed a political cult. Look at the photos of women and men with manic expressions as they listened to his speeches. As the Jews were ushered to their death in gas chambers most turned their head and trusted the macabre actions of the Nazis. Jews were Germans and loved before Hitler’s cultish decrees. They were patriotic Germans and respected in their communities. They loved Germany!

The political division in the United States has grown frightening. I have lost friends. People passionately take a political side at the cost of life and limb. Faith has not identified with a political party. Love for the country has become a love for a Presidential candidate. Some believe the flag is their domain…when all Americans love our flag. Some think that to be a Christian is to be a member of a political party.

We weep for the division of our Republic. ‘Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning…’

The Birds are singing, and the grass is green blue sky overhead with wispy clouds. I could have been a weatherman. The protocol gives purpose. Daily mundane tasks wrap up our sense of place and reason for being. Mundane is good when it adds to our route back to Jerusalem. Protest is fine at times as is devil-may-care attitude…but not always.

Days are filled with groceries exercise bills and repairs, with the daily time for reflection of the infinite. Habit settles emotions. Routine rejuvenates scattered thoughts. Peace emanates from a place settled secured and static.

I had a minister many years ago who admonished that when you have reached the end of your rope…tie a knot in it and hold on. A true directive for troubled times.

Throughout my 32-year 2-month and 3-week career, I noticed a few folks who had difficulty with the regularness of work. There were late-night celebrations and off-ramps to other pursuits that led nowhere. So many fruitless opportunities there was not the time to afford to make a living. I had a colleague ask me my secret for working so many years at the University and I replied, ‘One day at a time.’

Life hands us reversals. This happens throughout life. The loss of a loved one the loss of a job and stress can short-circuit our hard drive. What seemed so simple can be complex. Many of us suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. We need friends who will help us hold on to the rope of life.

The Paralympic Games are coming. Inspiring the wonderful humans who have not let go of the rope. No legs run on new ones. Such is life. We seek the extraordinary majesty of the world to come. Heaven is our throne and Earth is our footstool. Suddenly we awake from our deep slumber to see we are surrounded by Heaven…

Now that cleaning is out of the way I am free as a bird on the wing. The temperature is pleasant and the wind is blowing a happy breeze. Happy is good. As a manager/administrator at Southern Illinois University, I endeavored to have a happy workplace for my colleagues. We all shoulder burdens why make the load heavier with silly narcissistic rules for good people to follow for no reason. When you treat people like you want to be treated an excellent work product will follow.

Saturday says ‘Do You!’ Be yourself there is no one like you! The wind is a quartet of reed instruments. The music is mesmerizing.

‘Today I shall be a published author writer of mystery novels,’ You say. ‘Home will be the Woods with trees talking among themselves,’ You continue. ‘The world will look purple red yellow with a camera filter to enhance the colors,’ You sigh…

‘Time for an end-of-summer swim no clock watching no worries or cares,’ She said. ‘A little wine is fine,’ She continued. ‘Let’s go to Europe on a Tramp Steamer we will stay for the fall and return after Christmas,’ She winked and smiled.

‘You certainly have a lovely woods,’ Bear said. ‘I come from Tennessee with a banjo on my knee,’ Bear continued. ‘I love traveling could I join you on the Tramp Steamer when you go to Europe,’ asked Bear with a wide toothy grin?

It is Friday again. Yesterday school was out and now it is back in. We are planning our weekend. Friday has the weekend feel although you have to work. I remember the Friday Night Horror Movie when I was a lad. I waited all week to see it on one of our three television channels. Friday was special.

Often I would see a movie at the Orpheum Theatre on Friday night. We kids were in high spirits. The weekend had begun. Hope of adventure discovery and mischief swelled our chests. After the Friday night movie, our weekend was still a magnificent two days left. No more teachers no more books…unless you had homework.

Pounds Hollow Swim Adventure was a part of Saturday. At this time of year, we had one eye on the advent of Labor Day and the closing of the Hollow for the season. The Hollow had the scent of water. A different environment than the stodginess of the classroom. Devil-May-Care was our creed.

‘I think I saw a black bear on the far bank,’ Chet said with surprise. ‘I did not know that black bears were in our part of the country,’ he continued. ‘He looked a bit like Gentle Ben,’ Chet observed.

‘Let us swim over to the far bank and see if we can find him,’ Billy B said. ‘There have been 10 sightings of black bears in Little Egypt,’ Billy B noted. ‘Perhaps he is lost and is looking for his home,’ Billy B mused.

‘Do black bears bite,’ Neva J asked? ‘When they are grown they are imposing figures,’ she added. ‘I saw one in Gatlinburg many years ago,’ she said.

‘Hello Mr. Bear are you lost,’ Jane asked? ‘My friends and I are enjoying our Saturday we have Oscar Mayer Weiners hamburgers Merlot wine and later smores around the campfire…will you join us for some campfire stories,’ Jane asked?

‘Oh what a lovely invitation can my Dad Smoky come also we are on holiday from our jobs at the Great Smoky Mountains National Park,’ Little Smoky said. ‘Have you ever seen the pictures of Dad with his Ranger Hat on and his admonishment, ‘Only you can prevent forest fires?’

‘This is a feast fit for a king,’ Smoky said joyfully. ‘Little Smoky and I wondered if we would make new friends in Little Egypt,’ laughed Smoky. ‘We would be honored if you all would be our guest at Cades Cove for Christmas,’ Smoky said.

‘Be sure and bring your swimsuits and snorkel gear we will swim in the Little Pidgeon River,’ Little Smoky called out…