It is another hot day in the neighborhood. The Senate is debating how to sell the idea of cutting billions from SNAP and Medicaid to provide tax cuts to millionaires and billionaires. A task worthy of Houdini. The Bill adds $ 3.3 trillion to our over $ 32 trillion deficit. Marie Antoinette, when told that Parisians had no bread to eat, replied, ‘Let them eat cake.’ So it goes with our current government. The people are two to one against the Big Beautiful Bill, and yet the President and his minions are for it. They fear being primaried. Republican Senator Tom Tillis asked what he should tell over 600 thousand of his constituents when there is no money for their Medicaid in two or three years. At the threat of being primaried by the President, he said he would not vote for the BBB, and he would not run for the Senate seat he currently holds. A few of our political leaders have the courage of their convictions.

I do not know poor people by reading about them. I was poor and remember standing in commodity lines for government cheese. Neva J and I did not have hidden steaks at home. We did not eat meat as it was too expensive. We did not buy milk as we did not have the money. We drank powdered milk, and I saved my pennies to get a dime and go to the restaurant a street over from where we lived to purchase a glass. Millions of people work from cradle to grave and live in poverty in the richest country in the world. When I began first grade, school lunches were 20 cents per day, and I did not have the money. I was the only first grader who brought my lunch in a brown paper bag. A fellow student laughed when he asked me why I did not eat in the cafeteria and commented that everyone had at least 20 cents for lunch. I did not. All of my childhood and many of my adult years, I had either nothing in my wallet or a dollar. I worked every day.

The Poor of the Land are President Trump’s base supporters. What an extraordinary thank you for their support. Even the hog at the slop trough recognized its fellow travelers. Contrary to popular rhetoric, we are not the land of abundance. Few attain the promise from poverty and want. It is a different world in a family who have no experience with college or upward mobility. There is no glowing Christmas Tree in the corner of the Great Room, and familial dedication to see that the young do well in the capitalist milieu. Encouragement to attain economic greatness is a concept that is unknown in the history of the poor. The desire for a roof and bread is more in line with the poor’s reality.

White people have been discriminated against. Give me a break. There are pockets of white discrimination, but on a national basis, black people and people of color are the overwhelming people suffering discrimination. This is not even a logical contest. African Americans began as slaves. Have you ever been a slave? Then you probably can not empathize. We are a nation that seeks to distance ourselves from our creed of a Melting Pot. Many poor white people are looking for a White Saviour. President Trump and his sycophant Congress are saying Bend over and grab your ankles.

I grew up watching Superman in black and white. Although he had unlimited powers, George Reeves, who portrayed him, looked like a regular guy who was wearing a costume. Yet the bad guys could not match his herculean strength nor his dedication to fight against evil and for the good. Lois Lane loved Superman and did not know that she worked alongside him at the Daily Planet Newspaper in the guise of Clark Kent. Clark was an understated reporter, and I wondered why he was not recognized as Kent. Are glasses really that effective a disguise? Superman was not the chisled abdomen, hard as a rock superhero that is portrayed today. He looked like he had a bit of middle-aged fat.

We search for our Superman. Someone who vanquished our foes and protects our honor. Mighty Mouse was another television show of my youth. ‘Here I come to save the day,’ was the theme song. Most macho leaders do not attempt to identify with Mighty Mouse. I have seen glimpses of Might Mouse in many people. Many of us go unnoticed and are underappreciated. Yet we rise to the occasion. Brave people fight for ethics and to protect the voiceless with no thought of recognition. In the face of public humiliation, Mighty Mouse saves the day.

Political leaders tell us that they are the incarnation of Superman. They were sent to Earth to do what no man can do. Their deeds are done in darkness, and their self-congratulatory praise is in the light of the television cameras. The more vocal and laudatory praise these self-appointed Supermen receive, the more manic their actions. Ethics and the care for the poor among us is Kryptonite to them. Narcissism is the credo they live by.

Supergirl is a hero to me. Neva J raised me without a father. Strong women inspire me. It seems Supergirl is an afterthought in the Superhero Universe, but she is paramount in mine. Women are the unseen and unheard wonder of our lives. The women I know are stronger than Superman or Mighty Mouse, and they do it without fanfare or recognition. When men grow tired and weak from the struggle, women are just getting started. Most of my inspiration for leadership has come from strong women.

A self-promoting saviour is often a conman. When a leader is compelled to tell you daily of their strength and genius, you can be sure that neither is in their wheelhouse. A leader who seeks constant affirmation is troubled and dangerous. An unsettled mind and a wicked heart are not Superman.

It is cooler today, and still hot. I enjoyed sitting in one of the pavilions at the Woods that had been reserved for the weekend, but was empty. The rain repels some picnic participants. I like rain. We wait for something. We know it is coming. It is in the back of our minds. It is in our dreams. Summer life continues. Our time is so short, and God’s Calendar is so long. We see something in our peripheral vision. We look behind us to see if it is following us. There is a grand plan. We understood this as children, but life got in the way of our knowledge. The shadows of our youth follow us closely, yet remain just out of sight.

The Doomsday Preppers know something is coming. They gather food that will keep for years. They build carefully underground. Some laugh at their preparation. Others admire their preparedness. The Doomsday folks know something is coming and thus assign meaning to the shadows that follow them. The animals know. Mylo barks at an invisible entity. He looks perplexed when I do not see what he sees. Finally, he goes to sleep when I sit next to him, and all seems well. Political leaders manipulate our waiting. They know we are a bit anxious. We seek who our enemy is and who is our friend. We like the Preppers want to assign meaning to the nagging thoughts in the back of our conscience.

A moment of clarity is a revelation. The Waiters seek the moment of understanding. Among the baseball games, swimming, and 4th of July Celebrations, we wonder what is next. Life seems static when it is dynamic. We shake the sleep from our eyes and wonder where we have been. We are like Rip Van Winkle, who took a 20-year nap. Things are different in significant ways. For some of the Waiters, the path is clear, while others see through a glass darkly. The images are out of focus.

We wait for Godot. Our faith or lack thereof is of little importance. We came from the same place and are returning home together. Moments of hope and promise, and excitement invigorate the Waiters. We have taken a peek behind the Veil. We saw the Secret as it fled our gaze with a wide grin. Everything is going to be alright. What a test! Success in our journey is about remembering what we have already learned.

The sound of the mower is heard in our land. Heat is breaking. Birds are singing. The evening beckons. Peace grows in a settled mind. There is no time like the present to enjoy the wonders of summer. Listening for the still, small voice of God. It is a constant presence. The voice says ‘Be careful’ and we continue as if we did not hear. Then the voice says ‘Rest’ when we are anxious. ‘Time to go home,’ the voice says when we have lingered too long.

The drive-in was fun. A summertime treat. We sat in the car and watched our community around us. Happy people with happy kids. Others who seemed troubled and were looking for answers. Some who rode to the outdoor theatre in the trunk of the car. As darkness fell, trunks popped open all over the grounds. The speakers were made of iron. They hung on the window of your vehicle. If you wanted to keep the mosquitoes out of your automobile, you might try bringing the entire speaker into the passenger seat, but the cord to it prohibited the complete closing of the window. If you were hungry or thirsty, you had to leave the car confines and walk to the concession building. The concession building had a nightclub feel. There was a poster of the Pink Panther on the wall, and you could purchase a slice of pizza if you dared. Kids were sitting in front of the gigantic screen at picnic tables, and many stayed for the entire movie. You could see the screen from Grandma A’s front porch. Sometimes we just sat in the big porch chairs and pretended we could hear the dialogue of the flick being projected. Most Drive-In nights were still very hot, and most cars did not have air conditioners. You rolled the car window down and applied Off to your skin, and swatted bugs, which was a losing battle.

A week before the 4th of July, it was time for a young man’s fancy to turn to sparklers and firecrackers. The news on the streets of Eldorado was that Dad had been able to obtain illegal firecrackers. This required a clandestine trip to Missouri. Our Illinois Moms thought we would shoot our eyes out. If you had firecrackers, you were the talk of the town. It ranked up there with Marlboro Cigarettes or Charles Denby Cigars. Kids would pay simply to be near where the firecrackers were being lit and cavalierly thrown. Pitching pennies might suffice for unapproved excitement during school days, but paled in comparison to illegal firecrackers at the 4th. The sound of them made the neighborhood nervous. We were constantly looking over our shoulders for the police. Certainly, they must have extra officers on duty for the night of wicked abandon.

Starlight Drive-In showed movies you couldn’t see at home on the three channels available with either rabbit ears or a roof antenna. These movies were not on display at the Orpheum Theatre. You could not marvel at the 50 Foot Woman in a safe environment. You had to see her on the backstreet of Theatre…the Drive In.

It seemed everyone liked Dilly Bars at the Dairy Queen. The Dairy Queen in Eldorado was not the provider of Brazier Burgers since it had only ice cream-type offerings. Accept the occasional pack of Marlboros on the 4th of July. A great summertime sport was for those high school students who had a car to drive them slowly down the streets of Eldorado and honk and wave as they ate their Dilly Bars.

Lightning Bugs are fun. Have you ever captured lightning in a bottle? Then you have captured a lightning bug. We kids knew we were almost adults when we stayed out after dark and captured lightning bugs in a bottle while eating Dilly Bars.

It is a bit cooler today. Cloudy and 91 degrees. Clouds are comforting. Some look like cotton candy. Others are heavy with rain. We need rain regularly. When I was 11, I became a Christian. Attending church was a delight. I made many senior citizen friends. They seemed to like me with my adult persona and openness to them. All of the men wore suits and white shirts. You dressed for church. You had your work clothes or school clothes, and then there were your church clothes. Church was special, and you dressed accordingly. People cared about my welfare, and friendships were quickly formed. I learned that there were many different types of people who loved Christ’s message of love and acceptance. I felt accepted and wanted. Faith was a good place to anchor.

As I have become an old man, I have found that shiny things dull and the most proclaimed of human endeavours finally go back to dust. Too often, we buy the sizzle rather than the steak. Pepsi does not make our lives better. Drinking does not make a party. Happiness is found in us, and we must work to give it freedom from captivity. Our society sells ideas rather than substance. The power of positive thinking creates riches for the promoters of the books and tapes, while many are left with debt. Hungry for meaning, folks join churches for a chance to become a millionaire if they can answer the questions. The preachers become rich while the congregation holds on to the sizzle and the fizz.

Story compels our actions. We live in the story of humanity. It consists of stress and victories. Victories can be small but mighty. When our kids are happy, parents are happy. Problems that have real solutions rather than marketing hype. Success is incremental. All success is incremental if it is real.

‘I have wanted to go spelunking all summer,’ Chet said. ‘The cool darkness of the cave is inviting,’ Chet noted with a grin. ‘Please hold on to the rope so that we all stay together, and I will tie it here at the opening of the cave,’ Chet informed. ‘Many people have lost their hold on the rope and become hopelessly lost in the dark stalagmites and stalgtites,’ Chet explained as he held his flashlight to his smile. ‘I have seen skeletons in the cave of the lost who were never found,’ Chet winked.

‘It seems we are descending,’ Billy B observed. ‘The path is slick and I have slipped several times,’ Billy B said. ‘When I turn my torch off, I can not see my hand in front of my face,’ Billy B said. ‘Cave exploring is not for the faint of heart,’ Billy B observed. ‘I hear rushing water and someone singing,’ Billy B noted. ‘Could there be others down here?’ Billy B asked.

‘I think that it is time for a Merlot break,’ Neva J announced. ‘I explored this cave when I was a little girl and saw cave Sprites along the way,’ Neva J recalled. ‘Cave Sprites are little people with wings who live in the cave and help guide lost explorers,’ Neva J said. ‘The Sprites will play tricks on you if they detect that your heart is not pure,’ Neva J laughed. ‘Some are nice and others are bullies,’ Neva J explained.

‘A Sprite came up to me and told me to sit and rest awhile and let the rest of you continue promising to lead me out of the cave,’ Jane said. ‘They took the rope out of my hands, but I have a thread of it that I am clutching, Jane said fearfully.

‘Stay with us, our human friends,’ Sprite sang. ‘We will take you home later after we have danced and sung and smoked cigars by the lake,’ Sprite continued. ‘Many have chosen to stay with us, and you may have noticed their bones on the path down to the water,’ Sprite said. ‘We only seek your happiness and to help you in your faith journey,’ Sprite sang mystically.

‘One of the Sprites smiled at me, and her teeth were sharp like a razor, Chet said. ‘She told me that she was lonely and hungry as they get little company in the cave,’ Chet shuddered. ‘Let’s make our way back to where we began and do not stop for lunch,’ Chet laughed. ‘Do not let go of the thread,’ Chet exclaimed.

‘Although they constitute only 0.003% of the world’s population, billionaires hold 13% of the world’s total wealth.’ At least 13.8 billion dollars is the worth of President Trump’s cabinet. ‘Excluding Elon Musk, the net worth of Trump’s top appointees is estimated to exceed $460 billion, which includes other ultra-wealthy individuals beyond the core cabinet members.’

Public policy is often set by the wealthy and is designed to benefit them. This is not a new thing, but it is only getting worse. Poor people have the illusion of being part of the decision-making process. Richard Pryor spoke of the black man finally being a part of the television camera operation on popular white shows. When asked what his role was, he said he plugged the camera into the electrical outlet. So it goes with our government. We were told prices were going to go down, while they have steadily risen. We patiently await the tax cut revenue to trickle down to us so that we may all benefit from the government’s largesse. The Big Beautiful Bill cuts hundreds of millions of dollars from Medicaid, which many poor people benefit from and qualify for, due to not all of us being billionaires.

The number of billionaires has been rising exponentially. I wonder if cutting Medicaid to provide funds to give tax cuts to the wealthy has anything to do with it.

The middle class is shrinking exponentially. We have become the Story as old as time, of only two societal groups, rich and poor. Somehow, we love our rich leaders. They have the fairy dust sprinkled on them. Most of us are destined to be followers, and the billionaires must know what is best; after all, they are rich. We would buy their cryptocurrency if we had a job. It is like the television preacher with the private jet and several mansions who pleads for poor people to send God more money via his bank account. His many possessions illustrate how God loves him.

We want a hero, we need a hero. Someone, unlike us, and our meager fare. Someone who has their own jet with their name on it. A leader who will tell us that the immigrant is stealing our jobs. He informs us that the homeless and destitute are a drag on our economy. How can we have money to feed the poor children breakfast and lunch at school…they must work for their sustenance. The kids in Africa with their swollen bellies and hollow eyes will just have to die and decrease the world’s surplus population.

‘What a lovely evening,’ Mr. Billionaire said. ‘I especially enjoyed the cryptocurrency presentation,’ Mr. B said. ‘Well worth the price of admission and a bargain at $250 thousand a plate,’ Mr. B continued. ‘I think Junior will enjoy the Tennis Shoes with the President’s name on them,’ Mr. B laughed. ‘I like them so well I bought a pair for myself,’ Mr. B grinned.

‘Mr. B, will you be needing me anymore this evening? Hazel asked. ‘My feet are tired and I do not have fancy slippers like you do,’ Hazel observed. ‘Mr. B, did you really pay 250 thousand dollars for dinner at the White House,’ Hazel asked. ‘I could have fed you and the President for $100, and Rusty could have joined you,’ Hazel said with a shrug. ‘Rusty says the tennis shoes you bought for him do not fit, so I gave them to a homeless man who stays on the corner,’ Hazel informed Mr. B. ‘He said that the tennis shoes were an improvement since he was barefoot,’ Hazel winked.

A little rain is coming. I am glad as it has been hot. We are under a heat dome. Not the type of dome you want to be in. A bit like ants on the anthill. Labor is more noticeable in the hot sun of summer. What took little strength in the fall requires true commitment. A good time for a vodka tonic. A time to wonder at the wonderful. Each day is like the premiere of a first-run movie. No one has seen it before, and the mystery is palpable. The story begins each morning. What will today bring? What is my role in it? How can I make someone feel valued and a part of the story? We are on stage. Our lines are given to us each morning. The performance requires a quick study. The mission of the day involves singleness of purpose. Not for the faint of heart. Conspiracy theories only slow us down. The flood lights are up, and the curtain rises. No time for dilly-dallying, we must address this chapter of what is a very short, impactful play.

‘I am hungry for some Moo and Cackel hamburgers,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘Are we going to get them on the way to Pounds Hollow or on the way home?’ Chet asked. ‘They are the highlight of the Pounds Hollow trip,’ Chet smiled. ‘Today we will see if the Creature From the Black Lagoon is at the Hollow,’ Chet advised. ‘He told me to be prepared for a big surprise,’ Chet noted. ‘The Creature told me that he graduated from Eldorado High School in his disguise of being a human, which he often wore among the humans,’ Chet noted. ‘Creature noted that he came back to EHS to be the principal of the High School in the role of principal,’ Chet laughed. ‘I told him that we all thought the Principal was a bit of a monster,’ Chet laughed.

‘Well, there is Principal Issacs on the beach with a towel over him except for his head,’ Jane said. ‘He is watching us as if he were expecting us,’ Jane continued. ‘Let’s go over and say hi to the Principal,’ Jane suggested.

Greetings and salutations, Chet, Jane, and Billy B,’ Principal said with gusto. ‘I did not have time to put on my entire costume today, but the face and hands will suffice unless someone removes the beach blanket, and it is hot in this 90-degree weather,’ Principal said with a wink. ‘I am sent from Mars to interact with the humans and learn from them,’ the Principal said with a wide grin. ‘Of course, I love the water and live under the lake at night,’ the Principal offered. ‘Soon, Mars will be sending flying saucers to colonize the Earth,’ the Principal noted. I will function as their chief advisor, accompanied by the Principal. ‘You see, the Principal is still around, but I have had him doing research at Morris Library at SIUC for information to give my colleagues, the Creature said with a toothy grin. ‘I have a place for each of you in the transition from Earth to Mars II,’ the Creature From the Black Lagoon noted…

‘Scene that is a ten-minute break, the Director said. ‘Our production of The Creature From the Black Lagoon is going to be a big success,’ the Director said…

I walk by the mirror, and the Old Man is watching me. He looks familiar in a quaint way, yet ancient. I think I saw him many years ago on a calendar. It was of Old Man 1957 going through the back door while Baby 1958 crawled through the front door. The Old Man winked at me and grinned a sly grin.

June is almost gone, and with her, a month of summer. At this point in summer, my thoughts of school were never far away. Endless days at Pounds Hollow, swimming and floating and wondering what the rest of the world was doing. The Pounds Hollow Locker Rooms had a distinct smell of damp delight. Once you had purchased your little basket for your clothes depository for 35 cents, it was a quick change and off to the cool confines of a Billy B And His Large Lake. I felt at home in the water. Once I learned to float, I was cut loose from the bonds of earth and the Swim No Further Rope at the end of the safe swimming section of the Lake. A bit of a rebel, I was. I could float for hours, and the quiet of the experience was another world. I especially enjoyed it when the people on the beach looked like ants. I had given them the slip once again. I planned my future without the shackles of the past. I was an explorer going where no man had gone before.

Movies were another summer enjoyment. They were a pleasure year-round, but the air-conditioned comfort of the darkened theatre was a delight in the last days of June. I attended so many showings that I had a kinship with the owners of the Orpheum. The Orpheum was a grand and glorious movie palace. One screen and one theatre as it should be. You could lay your money down and stay all day if you desired. No muss, no fuss, no sweat in the Orpheum. You might be surprised how a movie reveals new plots and subplots the more times it is viewed. When I came outside, I remembered why the theatre was so pleasant.

Flash forward years to recent history for a mental picture of how hot Maine was on several of the 7 visits we made to our home away from home. Our first arrival was on the fourth of July, late in the evening. We had a four-hour drive from the Portland airport to Southwest Harbor. Then it was up three flights of narrow stairs to our bedroom at the lovely bed and breakfast. There was a fireplace in the room, but we did not need it. Maine is another world. The architecture is different, and the mood is peaceful. Having never been to Maine, we assumed that it was cool in the summer and cold the other three seasons. Not that year. Southwest Harbor is the town in the movie Storm Of The Century written by Stephen King. Walking through the town was like being in the movie. I just saw that the forecast for Portland, Maine, for tomorrow is 100 degrees. The innkeepers gave us wine to drink on their massive front porch, and we dreamed of a life by the sea.

Travel is an extension of my many hours in the Orpheum Theatre. There are so many worlds to see. We know less than we think we do. Our understanding could not crawl over a gnat’s whisker if it had a stepstool. Europeans think a bit differently than we do. Much of our shared culture is similar, and much is different. One human feature is universal…kindness. Everyone understands love. Everyone returns a smile. We all appreciate empathy. Tears are a universal language. Someone to dry them is priceless…

When my iPhone quit due to the heat, so did I. I wonder how I used to live without air conditioning. A lot of fans. They blew hot air, but at least it was air. Summer could not be escaped. You woke up in the morning with wet sheets and went to bed at night with your nose in the semi-open window, hoping for a breeze from the kitchen window fan exhausting the hot air in the house. A pop-up thunderstorm was welcome relief for a few minutes. In those halcyon days, kids spent the daylight hours outside unsupervised. Sweat was a fact of life from morning to night. Most adults spent the evening hours on their front porches sipping iced tea and hoping for some relief. Gossip was plentiful. It was believed that a little heat would not hurt you. Automobiles had a vent window next to the big roll-down window in the front. We gingerly opened the vent window in an attempt to distribute the air flow. Cars that came with air conditioning installed were few and expensive. Some folks purchased portable air conditioning units that fit on the hump in the floor board. Poor people did not have such luxuries. At times, we stood in front of an open icebox. Now we had a refrigerator, but my family referred to it as the Ice Box or, as my Aunt said, ‘The Box.’

We Americans have become accustomed to the finer things of life. Many of us have air conditioners at home and in our automobiles. We do not seek the cool breeze of evening on our front porches. Now we are in our cool houses looking out at our surroundings through our peepholes. Kids are engrossed in their iPhones and tablets with little thought of being uncomfortable. Many young people think that manual labor is for someone else. I reflect on the many hot and onerous jobs I have done in my life. Jobs designed for the humble, as many passed by and grinned and thought, but for the Grace of God go I. Or as one of my American student custodial staff asked me many years ago, who cleaned the toilets? When I told him that he had toilets in his area to clean, he noted that no one told him that he would have to clean toilets. I explained that the University did not have self-cleaning ones. The student employee quit on the spot.

Life teaches us that there are practical applications to all decisions. When Iran is attacked, and we say once and done, we are naive about history. There is the law of cause and effect. War is humans against humans. This is why the Bible speaks of an eye for an eye. It has always been thus. It is called escalation. The recipient of aggression responds at a time of their choosing. Not everyone pays their debts on Friday. Crowing about victory and the Obliteration of our foe’s ability to retaliate is a fool’s errand.

People are anxious. They are afraid. They want to know what comes next. They have questions without answers. If it seems that political leadership does things on the spur of the moment, you are not the only one who thinks so. The specter of nuclear arms is real and present.

My friend suggested that people forget the problems of the JFK years. Not at all. I was six years old when President Kennedy was assassinated. My mother wept as if he were a member of our family. My affection for the fallen leader stemmed from my memory of his assassination and Neva J’s love for him. The 1960s were a tumultuous time. I have no memory of living through a Golden Age, but I know we were not afraid of our President when Kennedy held office. He demonstrated his thoughtfulness during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Camelot was an invention of Jackie after his death. We were a hopeful nation that sent astronauts to the moon and established the Peace Corps. We looked to the future instead of dredging up the past. I have read numerous books regarding the Kennedy Presidency. It is believed that if he had not been assassinated, he would have withdrawn us from Vietnam. His morals were not good. Then again, if we apply the morals test for our political leaders, there would be a lot of new officeholders. Or, as my friend told me, morals matter when he was criticizing President Clinton, but when I asked if President Trump’s morals troubled him, he claimed ignorance of any problems.

Martin Luther King led the Civil Rights movement. The Movement was one of the best causes that advanced the condition of African American people.

Our nation made a significant turn several years ago. We now fight preemptive wars. Before this new policy, the United States refrained from using military force before being attacked. As the Vietnam War body count increased, I contemplated why we were fighting and what we were accomplishing that was worth the lives of so many of our soldiers. I had friends in Vietnam, and I almost was drafted myself. The second incident in the Gulf of Tonkin during the Vietnam War never happened, and yet we were lied to, and the draft increased due to the lie. The war in Vietnam escalated under President Johnson.

Church was cathartic this morning. Pastor Kerry asked the congregation a series of questions regarding how they feel about the bombing of Iran last night and the current political environment. Folks are experiencing anxiety. We are balanced on a knife’s edge. As there are differences of opinion on good Presidents, the world is not in awe of President Trump. It is easy to become a legend in our own minds. This is especially true for Presidents.

As the sword of Damocles hangs over your head, be careful to not swat flies cavilerly.