The weather is good for Halloween. Rain and chill with grey skies. When we moved to Eldorado I was five. My life had been disrupted. Mom and Dad were considering separation or divorce in Chicago. They came south to start anew. We moved into a Victorian house that had numerous fireplaces. It was heated by the fireplaces and a coal furnace in the basement. The Coal Man came regularly. On the first morning, my eyes were fastened shut by the matting, and cold at night. When I got them unstuck it was frigid. Neva J called out that Dad was starting fires in the fireplaces. Soon I heard the sound of shaking down the clinkers in the furnace. In those days much discussion ensued as to the best coal to burn. Bituminous won the competition with Anthracite. Eldorado was a coal mining town. My bedroom was a broom closet. To enter I climbed into the little bed from the doorway. I heard creaks and groans all night and people whispering as I watched strange shadows on the walls. Neva J found a large dead rat in the bathtub. We were not in our lovely ranch-style home that reminded me of Beaver and Wally’s house on Leave It To Beaver.

There was an ancient well in the backyard. It had a heavy round stone covering its opening. Eerie sounds came from the covered well. My aunt and uncle lived with my family for a month. We watched Eldorado High School Football from the wrap-around front porch. The bright football field lights cast an etheral glow as they illuminated the players. I looked for more rats. My cousin Brenda walked me to Hillcrest School. She was in eighth grade and I began first. I felt like I was living in a nightmare. Nothing was as it had been. Soon President Kennedy was assassinated. Neva J cried when I arrived home early from my first days in first grade. Cousin Billy loved Universal Studio Monsters. Frankenstein seemed comforting contrasted with my changed world. As time passed, I found the Orpheum Theatre, Frankenstein Dracula Wolfman, and The Mummy. Dracula had no defense when shown a cross. Dr. Van Helsing was my hero. I settled into Southern life. When I see shadows I turn the lights on…

At Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale, I heard from the crew supervisor at Anthony Hall that a Malaysian student worker had seen a ghost in Anthony. When she went to the third floor of Anthony she discovered a woman dressed in a white blouse and dark floor-length skirt sitting in a chair in the hall. The student called the woman as she sat silent. Anthony Hall is named for Susan B. Anthony beginning as a Women’s Dormitory. The Anthony Hall Ghost Story spread across Campus until the Vice President asked for a full report. The Crew Boss took me into the attic of Anthony showing me an old framed photograph of women in the building who looked like what the frightened student had seen. The Malaysian Student Community was large in the 1980s’ and the Ghost Story traveled through it quickly. No Malaysian students would work in Anthony Hall after the incident…

It is a windy wonderful day. The beauty is overwhelming. The World Series is in full motion. The Yankees are still alive. I am recording vintage horror shows on Turner Classic Movies and there is discussion of when we are going to erect the Christmas Tree.

Paducah, Kentucky is the town of our Black Friday desire this year. A wonderful Art Colony and a great Mall. We old folks seek closer drives for our day after Thanksgiving pleasure. The 2024 projects are done for this year. A major painting project and necessary landscaping were finished in October.

The Election is less than a week away. I marvel at the view through the Kaleidoscope is so different when we put it to our eye. Hate and fear do not rule the day. A sense of place of who you are of where you want to go is the GPS for success.

I enjoy silly. Humor brings me rest. A light touch is the key to leadership. Do not take yourself too seriously. We say we will not pass this way again…but what if we do…

Billy Crystal looked concerned the other night. Spike Lee did as well. Baseball is a fun game. One day you are heroes the next zeros.

Each year when I return from Maine I miss it. Margo and Jeff were much fun. When I see them I remember our beginning over 50 years ago. They look the same to me.

Miracles happen if we want them to. Hope is a powerful drug. It is natural no side effects. We can have happy joyous leaders. We do not have to be mad all of the time. People different than us can be our best friends.

Kindness follows me. People from many countries have helped me. I travel light. My baggage is not heavy. Fear does not color my actions. No need to explain no need to brag. I seek humility. The road of the humble is the road of Christ. I have followed him for 56 years.

Problems boy we got them. What is the cause of our dilemma? Is it impoverished people fleeing for their lives? Or is it greed? Are we the people of the Book as some Christians like to say? I have read the Book numerous times. I think in the scriptures. Did Christ focus on the rich? If riches are the manifest sign that you are doing the Christian Thing right…was Jesus rich?

Temperatures will get colder. Ice will form and snow will fall. Soon we will sit around the fireplace rejoicing in our pleasant lives. Christmas cards will be on the mantel the stockings are hung from. We will give to the poor hungry homeless. We will feel better.

‘We will walk together to school,’ Cousin Brenda H said to Billy B. ‘I am in eighth grade and you will begin in first,’ she noted. ‘What school would you have been in had you stayed in Chicago,’ Brenda H asked?

‘The School Of Hard Knocks,’ Billy B answered. ‘The house is scary,’ Billy B continued. ‘I sleep in a broom closet and I have to get into bed at the door because there is no room to maneuver once in the BC,’ Billy B exclaimed!

‘Shadows are on the walls of my bedroom and often when I awaken I see an old woman staring at me from the foot of my bed,’ Brenda H said. ‘Once the old woman gestured for me to follow her,’ Brenda H said with fear. ‘She led me to the backyard where an ancient well was…she lifted the round stone covering the well’s opening and cast me into the hole,’ Brenda H cried!

‘Did she have pupils in her eyes or were they all white,’ Chet asked as they sat in the first-grade classroom? ‘My night visitor Helen W has only white eyeballs and loves cats,’ Chet noted. ‘When I am in my upstairs bedroom I can hear her talking to her cat family, Chet shivered. ‘Billy B stayed overnight and although we were whispering she could hear everything we were saying.’ Chet said with trepidation.

‘Helen W is known throughout the town…she steals little girls and boys’ voices and gives them to her cats,’ Jane said with foreboding. ‘The Old Woman comes in the night and grabs the voices…she brings her cat with her to give the voice to,’ Jane continued. ‘Most of us have a talking cat or two,’ Jane laughed.

‘Brenda H what happened when you landed at the bottom of the well,’ Jane asked? How long did it take to reach the bottom and what was there,’ Jane continued to inquire?

‘I fell for the entire night it seemed when I hit bottom I was in my bed and the Sun was shining,’ Brenda H said. A kindly old woman came to my bedroom door and said, ‘Wakey…Wakey’…and then I was back in the well again, Brenda H continued. ‘At times when I doze off in class…I am in the well again…

The morning is inviting. October is fleeting. Happiness is ours if we get our minds right. Each morning brings new promise. As we prepare for the day we know that the winds of change are blowing. We do not see it with our eyes…we see its results. Action brings reaction. Movement creates inspiration. Inspiration produces results.

I say, ” Walk off the Blues.” In my younger days, if someone was down, they would say they had The Blues. Some would visit the tavern to alleviate The Blues. The next morning The Blues were still there.

A dynamic of hope and action produces wonderful results. We live in a fast-paced world that can be overwhelming at times. What we read, see, and hear influences our mood. Thought produces action action produces results. ‘As a man thinketh so is he.’

Make friends with someone unlike you. Have lunch with an immigrant. When a curse word enters your thoughts…say God Bless instead.

Listen to the words of the wind. It sings of love hope peace.

‘Why are you sitting by alone,’ Jane asked Tommy? ‘Come and have lunch with Chet Billy B and me,’ she invited. ‘We are telling Halloween stories and endeavoring to see which of us can tell the scariest one,’ Jane laughed.

‘I just finished telling about aliens surrounding my bed and escorting me outside and into their flying saucer,’ Chet said. ‘When I left the saucer I was back in our classroom, Chet said with eyes as wide as saucers. ‘I remember that you were the one who greeted me and told me to not be afraid,’ Chet said to Tommy L.

‘I had the same dream and was already in the saucer when the aliens brought you in,’ Tommy L. said. ‘They were operating on my legs and now I do not have to use a wheelchair…I use a walking stick that I bought at Giant City,’ Tommy L. said triumphantly!

‘The aliens told me that they had found the secret to happiness caring about each other and understanding their differences,’ Tommy L. said with a smile.

The leaves are falling fast. Each day I see changes. I met an old man who said that the area we were in had the best leaf colors. This old man agreed…

Nature is slowing down and preparing for a winter’s sleep. Snow will cover the fallen leaves, a white blanket. They will be safe and secure as they nestle into their cozy bed. Quiet will reign in the Woods. The trees will talk to each other. If you listen closely you can hear them whispering.

The Lodge will close. It’s time for a holiday. After Christmas Bells and good wishes, it will be cold. Trees lift their arms toward Heaven. Gray clouds will hover. Bears will sleep the sleep of the just.

We muck about. Each day is a new world for us. Lessons do not stick. We seek life lessons here, seek them there, and open our hearts to those who would use us, and dispose of us as rubbish. Our childhood lessons are forgotten for conmen and swindlers tripe. Perhaps they have the answers to the Secret. They look good on TV. They are confident. They are angry all of the time. We will hitch our wagon to theirs. They will pull us to safety.

The leaves rest secure under a blanket of snow. The trees whisper. The bear snores. All is as it should be.

No clues we cry. Someone should have provided a roadmap. Our GPS ceases to operate. Spring is coming. Better is coming. Hope is coming. There is much to be done. We have just begun. The mission is not a sprint…it is a marathon…

We went to Maine earlier this month, but the leaves are lovely here. The wind conducts a dance of leaves, signaling the end of one season and the beginning of another. We sip hot chocolate, wondering what is next. Pumpkins adorn the landscape. It is a time of slowing. A time of reflecting. A time for reassessment and renewal. Nature changes…we change…better is coming. We knew Better was coming when we were children. Each school year we understood that next year would be Better. University informed us on our first day that they were in the business of making us Better. Then there was marriage…we were Better. Then kids joined us and the joy of life made us Better. Finally, career and challenges physically and mentally sharpened our skills and honed our abilities. We were working for something and towards the great day of…Better.

Retirement brought delight. Was this the elusive Better that we had sought?

The golden years bring aches and pains. We look at the fallen leaves and consider them. We have searched for Better, for the Secret.

Yesterday was my 67th birthday. I was overwhelmed by my well-wishers, many of whom were people I had not seen in many years. I am honored and humbled. Life is a series of events. Some are joyous while others are difficult. Life is a seamless display of snapshots.

Home is where your sense of place is. Births and deaths. Love and loss create indelible images. Friends connect us. They expand our thinking. They broaden our horizons.

Hope within brings reliable peace. Life is a gradual climb to better things. America is a land of promise. The Dream of our nation is diversity. An oasis in the desert. Hope for the hopeless help for the helpless.

Soon, we will seek direction for our nation. Did God create humans and then decide he liked only a few of them? Are the rich the successful Christians? Are they the ones who are doing it right? Is the loudest voice…the voice of wisdom?

A young woman checked me out at Aldis today. She was in the middle of a conversation I assumed she meant for me. When I inquired what she was speaking about she told me a mentally ill man was outside the door and it was disconcerting. The mentally ill need friends like the rest of us…

We spend our days waiting for the next good thing to happen to us. We search for those like us. My friends are from all strata of society…including conservative and liberal, black and white, Asian…challenged folks who I called my kids when I was Superintendent of Building Services. All wished me Happy Birthday, yesterday…

I have Gay friends who I cherish. Many of my friends will vote for the Presidential candidate differently than me. November 6th they will still be my friends.

As much as is within us…’Be at peace with all men.’

Old #67 is chugging down the track. I am reflecting on my love for vintage Monster Movies. It began in my youth seeing them at the Orpheum Theatre in Eldorado. I loved watching scary flicks on Friday nights with my favorite cousin Brenda. Her brother Billy aided my affection for Universal Monsters with his Monster Magazines. Later he acquired Monster Masks from Universal Studios that looked remarkably like the real movie characters. He and I made an 8-millimeter film of me with the Creature From The Black Lagoon mask and Hands-on. It was worthy of an Oscar. In the dark safe seclusion of the Orpheum, all was well. Dracula Frankenstein or the Creature stayed on the screen while I enjoyed the vicarious thrill of their performance. At times they were safer than life.

‘I can not see where I am going,’ Billy B said. ‘I am looking through the nostrils rather than the eyes of the Creature Mask,’ Billy B continued. ‘Oh oh…I almost tripped on a big rock,’ he proclaimed.

‘Keep your eyes on the camera,’ Chet instructed. ‘You are looking authentic,’ Chet noted. ‘I am scared…a little,’ he said with a grin.

‘Who is that walking up the bank of the pond,’ Jane asked? ‘He is a big guy smoking a cigar,’ Jane noted with some trepidation. ‘He has a little girl by her hand and she is laughing,’ Jane said.

‘Frankenstein…do not throw her in after she throws in her flowers…throwing in little girls bad…cigars good,’ Neva J said.

‘Here Frank…you can hold the camera and I will take the little girl’s hand…later we will have some lochs and bagels,’ Creature said.

‘Jane is going to snap our picture,’ Chet said with a smile.

‘I learned a lesson…do not throw little girls in water,’ Frank said.

‘No…no Frank…do not throw Chet in the water…throwing people in water bad…cigars good,’ Jand called out.

Sixty-seven is biting at my heels. That is three years from seventy. Time flies when you are having fun. Born a week before Halloween. Autumn’s child. The trees are resplendent with color. Hope beats heartily. Time is seamless. Happiness is not contingent on others.

It is possible to be so enamored with life that the years seem like months and the months are but days.

Some seem to seek the bad, domineering know-it-all person. I can not relate to this, but I have observed its proclivity. I know that most people are smarter than I and am humbled to be in their presence. Treating others like I want to be treated is my axiom. Peace is my subject.

In the United States, we love money. We admire the strong man especially if he is rich. Money and bombast are equated with wisdom. ‘Wisdom is known of her children.’

Simple is my sense of place. We are here but a moment. This is lost on us. The Christian life has been a solace to me. Christ did not focus on money. He focuses on the poor among us. The poor are my people. I have been one of them. Their feelings of marginalization are keen. I remember the feeling.

We speak of mansions and streets paved with gold. Many hope to be kings or queens in heaven. They know the Big Guy wants that model. The homeless girl sits behind the Broadway Theatre. Her clothes are ragged, she is hungry, and she hopes for a few coins from the audience as they pass by after the show.

Adoration is fleeting. The sycophant moves on. There is another Con next door. Time is scurrying in our lives. We are pro-life until the poor child needs food. We move on to the next battle.

Praise is on gossamer wings. We seek it here and we seek it there. It is elusive. The old man holds out his soup bowl. He has not eaten in a few days. When the rich see him they cross over to the other side of the street… They are embarrassed to be seen with him.

It is easy to lose the plot. The quiet is not seen or heard. The noise drowns them out. The shut-in is lonely for the human contact they relished when they were young and healthy.

So, by grace, I have the luxury of celebrating my birthday. Many do not…