Senator Alex Padilla was forcibly removed from the Department of Homeland Security. The Senator was forced to the ground and handcuffed when he attempted to ask Secretary Noem a question. No, you are not having a nightmare, this is real in our America.

It has been said that power corrupts and ultimate power corrupts absolutely. The plow horse used to wear blinders to prevent the animal from looking to the left or right, thus being deterred from its mission of plowing the field. Or, as in one of my favorite television programs, Veep, with Julia Louis-Dreyfus portraying her as the Vice President of the United States, accidentally walking through a glass door. A political lobbyist hearing of the accident laughed heartily. We do not laugh when the shards are in our hair.

There is a reason that other countries have locked their political dissidents in gulags and thrown away the key. A lack of empathy and respect for viewpoints different than their own. Power shifts like the weather. It is hot today and cold tomorrow. The winds of change are blowing. It is easy to get caught up in the blame game. The coarsening of our society has been happening all of my life. The Southern Illinois Town I grew up in has a pool that was long sought by hard-working families. Recently, those managing the pool were forced to make a public statement that anyone caught using foul language will be asked to leave immediately. Why would there be a need for foul language at a pool in the summertime?

If we continued to poke each other’s eyes out, we would all be blind. Perhaps this has already happened. No matter who you are and the greatness of your knowledge and abilities, there is someone who disagrees with you. Such is life. Jackbooted Thugs took over a country in some of our lifetimes. I was born just a few years after the end of World War II. As Jews were marched into concentration camps, Germans hollered, ‘Goodbye Jew.’ When Supreme Allied Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower required German citizens to see what their military had done to the Jews in the camps, they averted their eyes from the horror. We like living in a Free Country as long as the freedoms are what we want. Remember, the weather is changing.

‘First they came for the socialist, and I did not speak out-because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionist, and I did not speak out-because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out-because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me-and there was no one left to speak for me. Martin Niemoller

School is out. It is time for life lessons. I have always loved learning. I did not have the same affection for school. The regimented structure of education bored me. The human element intrigued me. Air conditioning was not common in schools when I was a student. Multiple fans were the norm both at school and at home. We attended into June, and it was hot. I was wondering what Daniel Boone or Frankenstein were doing with their summer.

‘Let’s go to the movies,’ Chet said. ‘There is a double bill playing of Frankenstein and Dracula,’ Chet grinned. ‘Nothing compares with Halloween in June,’ Chet laughed. ‘Once I fell asleep and dreamed that Frankenstein walked out of the silver screen and asked me which way to the Men’s Rest Room,’ Chet winked. ‘When he returned, he had bought me a Coke and a bag of popcorn,’ Chet observed. ‘Frank is not a bad fellow, and he has a wicked sense of humor,’ Chet said. ‘He told me that he had to get away from his wife as she had a loud voice,’ Chet said. ‘He wondered if he could bunk with me for a night or two and said that he had cigars for both of us,’ Chet chuckled. ‘Cigar Good.’ Frankenstein said with a wide, open-mouthed grin.

‘Chet and I are buddies,’ Frank said. ‘It is so much fun at his house that I have yet to return to the Missus,’ Frank observed. ‘Chet and I eat Oscar Mayer Wieners out of the package and then smoke a stogie,’ Frank noted. ‘I sent a postcard to the wife and told her that I was away on business and would return in the fall after school starts,’ Frank said as he blew smoke rings. ‘I have been reading Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne,’ Frank said. ‘I have learned much,’ Frank offered.

‘So are we in your dream, Chet or is this really happening, as Rosemary will say in a few years in Rosemary’s Baby?’ Jane asked? ‘What about Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, have you read it, Frank?’ Jane asked. ‘I am reading it now as it was referred to me by Mary Shelly,’ Frankenstein noted with a wide smile.

‘I like Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll,’ Invisible Man offered. ‘The through-the-Looking-Glass world of the narrative reminds me of how I feel knowing that no one sees me,’ IM explained. ‘No matter what my needs are, they are ignored by those around me as if I am not in their midst,’ IM said. ‘I stood in the Commodities Line with many poor people and watched as the workers threw the food at them and treated them less than human, and I understood their suffering,’ IM noted. ‘When I picked up a brick of government cheese and it appeared to be floating on its own, the workers fled and I laughed heartily,’ IM said. ‘Really, we invisible people have little recourse but to protest our inhumane treatment,’ IM offered.

‘Let’s eat,’ Neva J announced. ‘Gracing our table today is Frankenstein and the Invisible Man, along with Rosie and Abigail, who many refer to as ‘One Eye’ due to her missing eye,’ Neva J said. ‘Today there are no kings nor crowns, just good people that have been unseen and unheard for too long,’ Neva J said through tears.

Today is a soothing day. I walked on Campus and a squirrel played hide-and-seek with me. The campus was quiet. Wildlife is bold among us humans as they see a lot of us in University confines. We are one of the animals. I thought of the sacred beauty of academic freedom. Freedom of speech in its purest form. Knowledge is advanced through the open doors of the Academy. Any attempt to stifle this promised freedom is an abomination. If we want our education to be more than just a credential, we must have divergent opinions. The sublime dignity of education in opening up human potential and thought is paramount.

When I first came to University, I was amazed at the diversity. Everyone is learning and living together. Hope was in abundance as we broke bread around the table. No authoritarian figures, but people hungry for understanding. Knowledge is its own reward. I soon realized that my life had been cloistered. There was a giant world that I had not availed myself of. I was honored to sit in the presence of people different than me. I was humbled to be accepted. An African student told me that the international students wanted to work with me because I had no prejudice. This high commendation has stuck with me for nearly 50 years.

Living and working together is nirvana. Too often, we seek just the opposite of what makes us happy. The university has a wide open door of acceptance. Not the faux acceptance of the Doctrinaire or the Authoritarian, but the real acceptance of all who enter here is welcome. Peace comes for a purpose that is greater than I. Hope ensues from love. Love is a universal language.

There is peace at the University in its purest form. Yes, dissent happens and is welcome and not verboten. Marching in lock step with an authoritarian leader is something to be afraid of. History has shown that first the Leader goes after the agreed upon enemies, and once they are brought under control, the Leader goes after his own followers. The mystery riddle of Authoritarian Leadership is simple in that it is always about what is best for the Leader…

Yesterday I was taken aback to see multiple ambulances enter the Woods with their lights on and sirens pealing. I have been going to the Woods for the better part of 4 years, and it is marked by its quiet and serenity. I just read about someone falling from a cliff at the Devil’s Standtable Trail. The woman slipped and fell 55 feet to the ground, according to WFCN News. The woman sadly succumbed to her injuries on a helicopter flight to St. Louis.

We are never really safe. Safety is a myth we wrap ourselves in. I think often of my surroundings and the danger inherent in the environment. During the Ice Storm of 2025, a limb hit me on the shoulder as I trekked through the ice and snow. Today, I saw a tree broken in half and wondered if it had been struck by lightning. As a young man, I developed a habit of looking at my surroundings, including who is in my line of sight, all the time. The Old Man in by head is constantly calculating the danger quotient. I am neither an anxious person nor apprehensive. I do pay attention to where I am and who is with me.

We live in dangerous times. Some folks’ emotions are off the charts. Conspiracy Theories are fueling the fire. Bob Dylan told us that we are going to serve somebody.

‘You may be an ambassador to England or France. You may like to gamble, you might like to dance. You may be the heavyweight champion of the world. You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls. But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed. You’re gonna have to serve somebody. Well, it may be the Devil or it may be the Lord. But you’re gonna have to serve somebody.’

We are living in the time of the lyrics of the song are playing out. Danger is inherent in lies and conspiracy. One of the first things I learned as a manager at Southern Illinois University was that my words had an inordinate effect on some. At times, what I said as advice was taken as gospel. Questions were assumed to be criticism. Words have power.

Today, we see the rise of Straw Leaders. Not leaders of natural ability or training but con men and charlatans. Their advice to their follower has danger embedded in it. We are being ginned up to fight and hurt each other. Not for cause but for effect on moving the Straw Leaders’ Political Agenda.

The Lost In Space Robot of the 60s popular science fiction show often said, ‘Danger…Danger Will Robinson, who was his primary companion. We need our own Lost In Space Robot today.

We are complex creations. We live with competing voices in our heads. Most of us begin with nothing. Altruism and empathy are valued. Then comes the jungle. We develop labels for those who have little. Lazy is a common brand we apply. Some in power tell us that empathy can be toxic. Our conscience is salved. Some become rich on the hard work of poor people. Isn’t life transactional? Did not God intend for us to avail ourselves of every advantage? Good business leaves many behind.

How did money become the measure of success? How did it become the goal of a fulfilling Christian Life? Political powers propose in their latest budget to cut billions of dollars in subsidies for the poorest among us. Many of these individuals argue that we should cut aid to impoverished people in foreign nations. They say we have to use the money for foreigners to assist Americans at home. The money proposed to be stripped away is Medicaid and food stamps, and insurance for millions of the poverty-stricken. The Bill provides billions of dollars for the ultra-wealthy in the form of tax cuts. Shall we do evil that good may come?

There are snares along our path. A corner cut here and a stop sign run there will enhance our portfolio. If no one sees the tree fall in the forest, did it really fall? Politicians enter politics with good intentions. Then there is the money and rubbing shoulders with those who have a lot of it. One thing leads to another, the song tells us. So many who have wealth look down their nose at the working poor if they have to pay the salary. Goodness, their health care is high and cannot be afforded by the elite. How could minimum wage be $15 per hour? That is a lot of money, the rich say. They should follow my model for wealth accrual; the 5% tells us. Acknowledge the magic of investments and the backs of the poor who labor in obscurity. God blesses his chosen, the top of capitalism tells us…the rest are there to facilitate our state of blessing…

As a lad, I do not recall so much heavy rain and daily significant wind. It rained down in buckets this morning. Before retirement, hard rain meant a call to campus for multiple leaking roofs. I wondered about my roof this morning.

Hard rain falls on all of our lives. Often, we feel overwhelmed. Problems do not walk in slowly on little kitten feet but rather with their Army boots on. A hard rain can make a person feel alone in a crowd. The person under the torrential downpour can watch their neighbors enjoying the soothing sound of peaceful rain while their house is being swept away.

Rain reminds us that we are all made out of the same stuff. We all get wet. Money and privilege do not protect us from the downpour. We may need a new roof and do not realize it. We are as confident as the little pigs in our homes. Hard Rain finds its way in.

The little girl sitting outside the Broadway Theatre begging for a crust of bread knows what Hard Rain is. She looks into the eyes of those who pass her. Many eyes do not see her while others avert their gaze. Her threadbare jacket is soaked through.

‘June is my favorite summer month,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘It is not too hot or too cold,’ Jane continued. ‘I prefer lukewarm as is spoken of in the book of Revelation,’ Jane laughed. ‘The beach is pleasant and accommodating,’ Jane mused. ‘There is still a long while before school commences,’ Jane offered. ‘I am excited that Neva J is taking us to Pounds Hollow today,’ Jane offered.

‘Let us load the 57 Chevy up with hot dogs and hamburgers along with an ample supply of Merlot,’ Neva J proclaimed. ‘I saw a groundhog come out of the tall grass and scamper across my path which is good luck I am told,’ Neva J said. ‘When the groundhog passed he winked and grinned as he said good morning,’ Neva J continued. ‘Mr. Groundhog told me that he was joining Mr. Beaver at the Hollow for a portion of summer joy,’ Neva J noted. ‘GH also told me to be ready for a surprise when we arrive,’ Neva J said.

‘Look over there where Mr. Groundhog and Mr. Beaver are roasting hot dogs,’ Chet directed. ‘They are joined by Freddy Fox and Sammy Squirrel,’ Chet said. ‘Let us join them and discover what the surprise is,’ Chet suggested. ‘Where you find those merrymakers there is always an adventure,’ Chet said with a wink and a nod. ‘Last June they showed us the underwater home of the Creature From The Black Lagoon,’ Chet reminded the group.

‘It is good to see you,’ Freddy Fox said. ‘Today we shall find Godot,’ Freddy continued. ‘Though we have waited for him for many days he is coming to our cookout,’ Freddy noted with a dance. ‘Godot has the answers we have been seeking,’ Freddy winked and grinned. ‘He is wise and has been likened to God,’ Freddy whispered. ‘Godot is elusive and no one has ever reported seeing his face or shaking his hand,’ Freddy observed. ‘We have been made to understand that he enjoys Oscar Mayer Wieners right out of the package and not cooked,’ Freddy disclosed. ‘We brought several packages of Oscar Mayer Wieners for Godot and Chet,’ Freddy observed.

‘Goodness the wind has increase in the last few minutes,’ Billy B said. ‘I hope the wind does not blow our paper plates away,’ Billy B continued. ‘It is getting as dark as night and there is lightning in the sky,’ Billy B said with trepidation. ‘I want to be able to see and talk with Godot when he arrives and I hope the storm does not scare him away,’ Billy B advised. ‘I hear a melody that I have heard before,’ Billy B cocked his ears to listen better.

‘Oh I wish I was an Oscar Mayer Wiener that is what I truly want to be for if I was an Oscar Mayer Wiener everyone would be in love with me,’ the song whispered through the wind.

‘All of the Oscar Mayer Wieners are gone….’ Neva J said with surprise!

We reflect on the good old days. Those days burnished by memory. The gauzy picture our mind sees is soft and pleasant. In those days, we were happy and free. Work was fun, and life was easy. Problems seemed light. Hope was grand. We walked all day and never got winded. Planting and prospering were the order of our days. Our snow globe world was perfect. What happened outside our sphere was dim in our vision as we climbed the ladder of success. The revelers of the holidays, rum cake and rum for Neva J. Earl, brought smoked meat. We gathered around the round table and laughed the laugh of the hopeful and blessed. Tomorrow was another day.

The encouragement of friends is a treat. Imogene passed away recently. She told me what a good deacon I would be when I passed on the ask. I did not realize Imogene ever thought of me in any regard. Her opinion made my day. Rob often tells me how much he enjoys my photos, and at times, he compliments my writing. Rob will never know how much I think of him and his encouragement.

I think of my friend and tell him that I love and admire him. Confusion is a dark companion. His smile lights up a room. He is kind and considerate, and I have never spoken with him that I was not the better for it.

We are on the master monitor. God is watching us. We are more interesting than the finest Hollywood movie. Performers, we are on the stage of life. We miss the halcyon days when we are in the midst of them and do not realize now is our moment…now is our Halcyon Days! Whoever you meet, you touch their life. A sacred gift. We see the corporeal while God sees the infinite. We are learning our lines. Shall we enter stage left and depart stage right? Who knows what gifts we harbor? Who understands the deep thoughts we feel?

Sparks fly upward. We are in our place on life’s stage, and our part is next. Play your part well…,’ dear God forever,’ we cry. It is a short play. The Acts are compact and meaningful. Before us is the unknown person whom we are on stage to help. Be careful that you entertain angels unaware. Beneath the dirt and grime is a brilliant diamond. The gold of Ophir walks among us. We become irritated when we kick against the role we have in the Great Play. We chafe under the yoke of our performance. God is watching…

The settling time has come. The activities of the day acquiesce to the calm of the night. The firing of the coal hopper for our steam locomotives has died down. The trains are in the train yard. Night winds blow over our heated lives. We humans require rest and recuperation. We cannot go 24/7. It is said that old folks have four or five good hours in them. A true statement, I think. We stand on a tightrope, and our balance is precarious. We must learn how to hold the balance pole to find our center of gravity. When you lose your long pole, you fall off the rope…hopefully, there is a net.

The Hollywood picture of effective living is a myth. In the MGM masterpiece, we see John Wayne fight off many bad guys without getting a scratch in his make-up. Mad Men advertising executives drink in their office starting in the mornings and continue all day and well into the night with a smile and a wink. June Cleaver fixes breakfast in pearls. Rob and Laura Petri kiss each other good night and retire to their own twin bed on either side of their bedroom. If you are not working eighteen hours a day, you are not trying. People brag about sleeping 3 or 4 hours a night. They seem to have boundless energy.

Somewhere along the way, we began to believe the myth that a human being elected to be President is endowed with superhuman powers. We decided to not trust our mere mortal eyes and lay our hopes in our conspiracy theories. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is a duck. This applies to both political parties. This bit of common sense also applies to religious leaders. We want our religious leaders to leap off the pages of the Bible and be the embodiment of excellent storytelling. The preacher who tells us God told him/her to become rich to illustrate the benefits of serving God with the tithes and offerings of poor people is working on The Ark…but it is for them and not us.

Night Winds bring rest. A time to recharge and reflect on what has been and our role in it. A senator recently commented on the diminishment of Medicaid that we were all going to die someday missed the point. Our primary goal should be to take care of each other.

We attribute the greatness of our nation to the wrong pillars of conduct. Having all come here from somewhere else, we shut the doors to all who do not fit our storybook ideal. This would be likened to the Native Americans meeting us at the shore and telling us to turn around and return home to England. I observed when I was a member of Southern Illinois University that some saw the University’s needs in light of their parochial needs. Others saw the big picture of inclusion as the answer for a strong University. Some wanted work-life to be an image of their lives in a rural environment. Everyone should look like them and attend the same few recognized churches. Others who had been raised in the same towns and villages wanted to accept everyone and make no distinction as to differences of faith or ethnicity. Indeed, many of the most open people to helping others different from themselves were from biased hamlets.

Each of us is our biggest mystery. We seek to fix those around us when we have no clue about what makes us tick. Words can be a healing balm or a burning fire. Such power comes from the movement of the tongue. At night, we consider how we can better utilize that power to help, not to hurt…

Summer is here. Eighty degrees and a cloudless sky. Purpose calls out from the trees in the woods. You are here for a reason, they tell the Old Man. Rest is needed, but purpose is paramount. Retirement does not mean rocking chair. You rock and rock and get nowhere. Goals are essential. Work is wonderful. It is especially fun when you pick the job. Autonomy is a wonderful gift that keeps on giving. To be free of the manipulation of others is enlightening. Reading and writing keep the Old Man’s mind open to the next mission. Thinking for yourself is its own reward. Advice is good, but fire in the belly is better. The Old Man’s life has been marked by the sound of his own drummer. The percussion is familiar and favored. Too many cooks spoil the broth. Cooking and life are more art than science. You know when something is right.

When working at Southern Illinois University, the Old Man was counseled to not rock the boat. Keep a low profile, they said. Don’t lift your head too high. That sounded wise until people suffered from the philosophy. Humility and courage are a winning combination. People first, then everything else falls into place. Always put people first. When you defend the voiceless and forgotten without thought of your own advancement, you are on a mission from God. During the Old Man’s career, he saw each person as a sovereign individual. The Old Man hated groupthink. Every person is worthy of being treated as a one-of-a-kind creation of God. Not part of a preferred or rejected group.

The Old Man worked in the Housekeeping Department. Precious people were often considered subpar or those who worked in cleaning jobs because they could not do any better. Nothing was further from the truth. Wise and brilliant people graced the Building Services Department. People who loved SIUC with an unparalleled passion. Dedicated individuals who could do the cleaning duties with one hand tied behind their back and have time to mentor and be a family to forgotten students. Professionals who had the answers to the University’s persistent problems if they were only asked. People of immeasurable intrinsic value.

No one cares about you more than you. No one understands you better than yourself. They do not hear the still, small voice you hear. They see a caricature and not a fully formed person. Revealing yourself is your task.

Manipulators are everywhere. They are puzzle masters, and you are one of the pieces. The genesis of their counsel is for you to facilitate their vision of you as a part of their master plan for their advancement. This quandary is found in all walks of life. Many financially successful people are master manipulators. Their perception is that they are the king on the chessboard and you are the pawn. Many of us strive all of our lives to advance to the rook or the bishop in the life of the Manipulator.

Look behind the curtain. The Wizard is pulling many levers and twisting numerous dials to achieve the goal. While many perform the grunt work of life, a few call the shots. Follow your heart. Find you. When you leave this mortal coil, know that you pursued your mission in life and not someone else’s. Contrary to common belief, we do not all need a leader to manipulate our actions. We must pursue who we are in humility and servant leadership.

Engage in what moves your passion. Be your unique representation of God. Money and titles are meaningless. Excitement in the joy of daily living is the map to happiness.