If I remember anything of July, it will be the Heat Dome. I can not recall a hotter July. Then again, isn’t that what all the old people say? Two fun events have happened at the end of this long, hot road. Marcy and Brock visited us, and Jennifer joined our festivities. I learned that Brock visited the Old West on a Switch game, and it made me want one. It was time travel amidst laughs. Last night we attended a reading by Jonathon of five of his works. The hosts were welcoming, and a nice crowd enjoyed the stories. The readings sparked my imagination. Now, school days are almost here. Time is moving quickly.

We live in a miracle of possibilities. Some events I have visualized, while others come as a surprise. Each day is a new adventure. We are the magicians pulling a rabbit out of our hat.

‘Just one more question,’ Detective Columbo asked. ‘I was wondering why the blood of the deceased is on your shirt collar,’ DC said. ‘Did you rub your shirt collar on the deceased wound before calling me?’ Columbo said. ‘Has my rumpled trench coat and unassuming manner caused you to underestimate my crime-solving skills?’ Columbo asked. ‘Perhaps my tousled hair and humble actions put you at ease while you forgot to clean up the crime that you committed,’ Columbo observed. ‘Being underestimated has always been a gift,’ DC observed. ‘While the smooth talkers and well-dressed detectives are applauded, I continue to shuffle along solving crimes,’ Columbo smiled and winked.

So it goes that we who do not occupy center stage are often ignored in favor of the glamorous and elite. If you do not look the part, many assume you must be a bystander on the road of life. The ability to marshal people to the cause of a leader who has nothing but his interests at heart has never been clearer. Lies spoken often have power. Panache and flash capture our attention and serve as acceptable to many who do not dig down into the reality of the promises given.

‘Oh my, what a luxurious wedding cake,’ the Bride said. ‘It has ten tiers and icing like I have never seen with gold filigree,’ the Bride continued. ‘My soon-to-be husband is a body builder and muscles like Charles Atlas,’ the Bride said excitedly. ‘My betrothed is taking me and his best friend Precious on a worldwide cruise for our honeymoon, the bride exulted. ‘Precious is his personal assistant and such a skilled person and so sweet,’ the Bride noted. ‘Often he and Precious work for hours in his office while I watch Life Styles of the Rich and Famous,’ the Bride informed. ‘It is time to cut the Cake,’ the Bride announced. ‘What is happening…there is nothing but sawdust behind the wonderful frosting,’ the Bride cried out in sorrow…

Look for the introverts around you. Look for those who say what they mean and have your best interests at heart. Who among your friends listens to you and seems reluctant to speak of themselves? Those who are applauded for their deeds and not their rhetoric.

‘I was on the unicycle tonight,’ Chet said with surprise. ‘Jonathon was reading about the Unicycle Man and suddenly I was balancing myself on the single wheel,’ Chet continued. ‘I tipped my top hat to my girlfriend and she blushed and waved her hanky at me,’ Chet demurred. ‘I fell off the Unicycle once, but my girlfriend was looking the other way, and I was grateful,’ Chet laughed. She had her Maltese with her, and he barked and barked when I fell,’ Chet noted. She told me that I had gotten off the tall Unicycle quickly, and I responded that I jumped.’ Chet laughed.

‘I remembered the Pug dog that David had when I was a lad,’ Billy B said. ‘He made a heck of a rucus when he ate,’ Billy B laughed. ‘His face betrayed eternal happiness,’ Billy B smiled. ‘Lexy has some awesome art, and she is so nice when she shook the tambourine, the readings became more powerful,’ Billy B observed. ‘I felt like I was home in her Art Studio,’ Billy B said.

‘The story about the coffee creamer illustrated the power of little things to demonstrate love,’ Jane said. ‘I considered why we judge a book by its cover instead of opening the pages and reading it,’ Jane explained. ‘What seems to be strange is often exceptional and a diamond in the rough,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘We must know people and not by first impressions,’ Jane said.

‘The man and his dog so perfectly describe Billy B and Mylo, Neva J said. ‘I agree that they look alike and at times act alike,’ Neva J proclaimed. ‘Jonathon’s writings pointed a spotlight on our assumptions and presumptions,’ Neva J observed. ‘When people are genuine, they are different,’ Neva J explained. ‘God made us all different like various spices in an Irish Stew,’ Neva J laughed. ‘Our differences bring the flavor to life,’ Neva J danced on one foot and then the other.

Billy B and Mylo sat on the couch. They were enjoying the television program they were watching. ‘I think we do look alike,’ Mylo said.

‘I am intrigued by time travel, ‘Jennifer said with a smile. ‘Backward or forward would be fine with me,’ Jennifer continued. ‘Just think if we could go back in time, we could see our departed loved ones and tell them things we did not have time to say before they left us,’ Jennifer said softly.’ ‘Or we could travel forward just a few years and see how our life plans worked out,’ Jennifer laughed. ‘If we had the benefit of looking forward in time, our current existence would no doubt be altered,’ Jennifer winked. ‘Where would we be today if we had the benefit of foresight?’ Jennifer grinned. ‘Perhaps our faith journeys would be altered,’ Jennifer continued. ‘Why do we do what we do and act in the manner we do?’ Jennifer observed. ‘

‘I would have changed some things, ‘Brock noted. ‘I would have gotten to know my brother from another mother sooner,’ Brock laughed. ‘We could have ridden ponies together,’ Brock winked. ‘I like ponies,’ Brock said. ‘I would like to travel back in time to the Old West, Brock observed. ‘I would travel throughout the land of the settlers and work to know them and their lives,’ Brock said. ‘If some inbred farmers told me to get off of their land, I would have challenged them, Brock laughed. ‘If an old man sitting in a chair asked me for my help, I would not kill him; instead, I would help him,’ Brock noted. ‘I would wear the Gambler’s hat my big brother gave me, and thus I would be a Gambler,’ Brock winked. ‘With my gaming skills, I would be a card shark in Dodge City,’ Brock assured.

‘I would learn about my ancestors in my Tennessee home,’ Marcy said. ‘I would participate in the lives of my grandparents and great-grandparents,’ Marcy continued. ‘I would tell them of their great-grandchildren that were in the 21st Century,’ Marcy said with purpose. ‘They would know better of Jeb and Jaime and how wonderful they are,’ Marcy said with a tear in her eye. ‘I would learn of the old ways and the healing paths of our forebears,’ Marcy said. ‘The better way has been lost in the din of modern life, and I would recapture it,’ Marcy said with a wide smile.

‘I would write for the Dodge City Times,’ Jonathon said triumphantly. ‘There was a lot of news that did not get reported in the Old West, and I would report it,’ Jonathon noted. ‘I would write pulp fiction,’ Jonathon said with a gleam in his eyes. ‘What was Wyatt Earp really like, or Doc Holiday?’ Jonathon asked? ‘What is the true story of Gunfight at the OK Corral?’ Jonathon said. ‘Were the Earp brothers altogether good or did they have a mean streak?’ Jonathon asked.

‘I want to see the universe up close,’ Aaron said. ‘I have always wanted to fly like the Jetsons,’ Aaron laughed. ‘I want to visit Mars and spend time with the colonists,’ Aaron winked. ‘I would like to attend a NASCAR Race on the Moon,’ Aaron said as he made a zoom zoom noise. ‘We are going to have to colonize other planets in the future, and I would like to be a part of the process,’ Aaron observed. ‘We must overcome the dysfunctionality of politics on Earth,’ Aaron said. ‘There must be a solution in the future for our present distress,’ Aaron said quietly.

‘Well, they have a time machine at Fugiyama, and after our Hibachi Grilled Dinner, we will avail ourselves of it,’ Mary Jane said with aplomb. ‘The Time Machine is included in the price of the Meal, and if you do not eat, you still have to pay five dollars for the Chef Show and the Time Machine,’ Mary Jane laughed a knowing laugh…

It is 94 degrees, and hard to imagine that it will not always be this way. That is the way of the heart of all the seasons. In the depths of winter, we wonder if we will ever be warm again. Then someone will ask what kind of winter we had, and we will say not too bad. Experiencing heat or cold at their zenith is a brainwash for what came before. So it goes with many aspects of living. When we are out of work, we wonder if we will work again, and when we work for some time, we hope for retirement. When we are overwhelmed, we pray for respite, and when we are looking for something to do, we think pleasant thoughts of the days when we were busy. We want a holiday vacation time in another climate and a place we have not seen. Soon we will be ready to go home, where we know the peaceful routine.

Kids see the handwriting on the wall. School starts in August. Was it not June yesterday? There is swimming to be done. There are hikes to take. Neva J loved badminton. She was a badminton aficionado. She loved to strike the birdie. The net was erected from early spring to late fall. She and our neighbor Ivy played daily. Ivy hit the birdie and puffed a Pall Mall cigarette. Ivy was worldwise and did not suffer fools gladly. She cursed like a man and smoked like a man. When she and her husband Bob were together, Ivy did all the talking Bob did all the listening. In the suburbs in the summer in the 60s in almost August, we all spent our waking hours in our backyards. George and Helen, our next-door neighbors, drank copious amounts of beer and barbecued daily. George called me Dr. Brooks. They had thick Chicago accents.

Dad played Jai Ali where you used a long curved wooden scoop to catch or throw a hard ball against a wall. The appearance of Jai Ali was mesmerizing. The ball reached high speeds. It became popular in the middle of the 20th century.

The thoughts of the classroom and the fine desks we had in the 60s became compelling at this point in the Dog Days. The desktop raised, and you could place all of your stuff in the compartment underneath. We even had ink wells, but no longer needed them. Pencils were the writing utensil of choice in those halcyon days. Big Chief notebooks were our paper, and they had big spaces between the ruled surface. A ruler and a bottle of paste were necessities. Writing on the blackboard was part of academic success. Immediately, I found that the classroom was hotter than home. No air conditioners, just big windows. When I looked out of the open windows as the fan blew hot air on me, I recalled fondly playing badminton in the backyard.

We just experienced a wonderful visit with my brother and Sister, Brock and Marcy. Jennifer joined us, who seems like my daughter. To be surrounded by people who love you is a refreshing, peaceful sense of place. I know who I am and where I belong. A thoroughly enjoyable dinner was enjoyed by all at Fujiyama Restaurant, where the food preparation is as impressive as a Broadway show. We played Cards Against Humanity and laughed until tears flowed down our cheeks. The fellowship felt like the Golden Years.

Laughter is good, like a medicine, the Good Book tells us.

We seek meaning in our lives and work ferociously to find it. We seek it on the mountain tops and in the valleys. We long for approval in the eyes of strangers. We listen intently for praise from leaders and bosses. Each day brings challenges and blessings. When we focus on the challenges, the blessings are hidden by the clouds of worry, strife, and care. Triumph is before us, beside us, and behind us. We did it our way, we say with a gleam in our eyes. Our Guardian Angel says, ‘With a little help from our friends.’

There is comfort in knowing who you are. When we meet someone authentic, we are refreshed and renewed. Someone who is in your life as God created them is a miracle. They do not wear society’s mask or conform to artificial prejudices. Their sense of place is inspiring. My friend Greg inspires me, and I love him for his courage and conviction. He has a smile that lights up any room that he is in. When Greg is in my corner of the world, I know I will be safe and secure. I will be alright…

Heal us, we cry. We have been broken, bruised, and forsaken. Let the weak say I am strong because of what the Lord has done. We have our place. Heaven help us that the blinders be removed from our eyes and we see the majestic road before us.

Jonathon put our family on to a wonderful Coffee experience in Carbondale. Our friend John Beyler is the co-owner of Lost Forest Coffeehouse & Pub. The first thing I noticed was the well-thought-out atmosphere. The Bar is simply beautiful. The staff make you feel at home, which is almost a lost art in today’s rush about world. John has greeted us like family, and his friendly, heartfelt greeting was special.

The coffee is simply delicious. I have often looked for a place where I felt welcome. A young lady brought me my coffee today, as the old man did not hear the announcement that it was ready. I will be back.

We are excited about the anticipation of Marcy and Brock coming to see us on Saturday. Jennifer will be joining us. She is a delight. The only addition that would make the Weekend complete was a Christmas Tree. At this time of summer, I see the end, I can see through my binoculars the approach of fall. I was born in October and love the fall. I feel energized and renewed. Fall begins for me on September 1.

I enjoy going to the Grocery Store. The choices are endless. I am humbled that I have the money to purchase almost any grocery item I want, while I recall the many days when I couldn’t. Prices are not going down, they are going up. Inflation is rising, and the fear of a recession is a genuine concern. I recall when MJ and I had a $20 grocery budget for a week. When you have to worry about every dime you spend, your outlook for the future is cloudy. Many people in our country don’t have money for necessities. Their world is full of the rich and the rest of us. The idea of taking the kids to a movie and buying popcorn and sodas is out of reach. Vacations are not considered. They are the realm of the rich from the poor’s view.

We stood in the Commodities Line at Eldorado. We were poor, like many of our neighbors. The workers opened the big back door of the semi-truck and began to throw the commodities to the poor people. Many commodities hit the ground. Poor people can not concern themselves with such niceties. We needed the five-pound block of government cheese and the dry milk flakes.

Millions of Americans work every day and do not have the money to buy food. They exist on Ramen Noodles or school food programs to feed their kids lunch and often breakfast. As a young adult, I was hungry. I had almost nothing to eat and no money to buy it. During those halcyon days, I worked closely with the church pastor who often bragged to me that he had enjoyed a T-bone steak the night before. I was proud and would not ask for help. Almost no one helped me as I became rail thin. We live in the bubbles of our making. When I hear christian people brag about how blessed by God they are, I wonder where the poor are in the blessing equation.

So we need a little Christmas right this very minute, as the song says. We have submitted to our basest selves. Now we say that the rich inherit the spoils. Let the rich say I am rich because of my demonstrated earning power, illustrating my holiness. If you are poor, we would throw you some commodities if we had not already run out of many, giving tax cuts to the Righteous Rich. There are 2024 leftover Christmas Trees for sale at Walmart. Perhaps we can buy one before the end of the month…

Jonathon tells me that people enjoy reading my reflections. He is a connoisseur of writing, and I listen to his advice. It is raining cats and dogs in honor of Dog Days. Rain fascinates me. I took a short Woods Walk. Perhaps the rain is a heat breaker.

Eldorado was a quiet place that seemed to be happening for me as a kid. I was a watcher of people. I picked up on many subtle nuances of my surroundings. When you are a closet introvert, it is amazing what you can learn by listening. I saw loneliness in the eyes of popular kids in school. Being a teenager is a particular challenge. I attended a church that my extended family was affiliated with, where no one seemed to smile. Faith was portrayed as a system of dos and don’ts rather than the love of Christ. Rules were designed for the congregation and did not apply to the clergy. The church had the most threadbare carpet I had ever seen.

Free thought was not encouraged. The hippie movement taught us that. Conformity was praised, and thinking outside the box was discouraged. These were the days of Dick Van Dyke and Father Knows Best or Leave It To Beaver. Eldorado was a blue-collar town with little thought of College. Churches had a profound influence on people’s lives. It was important for your resume to have a church affiliation. A high percentage of people were members of a church in the 1960s.

The television show Peyton Place was popular in my town. It was a secret pleasure of the residents. Affairs and Adultery were themes of the program. Many kids were married soon after high school graduation. Adulthood began the day after commencement. Some high school graduates were drafted to serve in Vietnam. I left home at the old age of 17. I was wet behind the ears, but I thought I was dry.

Pounds Hollow was a profound pleasure. With no air conditioning, it was the coolest you could be in the summer. The lake water was welcome and full of mystery. Jackie and I, along with Cousin Brenda and, now and again, Johnny, loved to ride in the ’57 Chevy convertible to the place of dreams. There were the town fathers and mothers in their swimsuits. Our teachers and we students all looked equal. Neva J told me that Johnny’s mother took money for love. I did not concern myself with her vocation. The Hollow had hidden secrets. There was the land far away from the Safety Rope that I floated to on numerous occasions. No one else performed this courageous maneuver other than Jackie from time to time. People looked like action figures on the sandy beach on the horizon. Finally, I could not determine who Neva J and Brenda were. Jackie and I were in no man’s land. Or at least no man’s lake. I realized I could do anything that I set my mind to. Pounds Hollow proved it.

Franny was the daughter of our neighbors, the Colemans, and was a magnetic personality. She and Neva J became friends, and her son Johnny and I did as well. I went with them to Clarksville, Tennessee, for an overnight stay. It was a fun time.

During our overnight stay in Clarksville, Franny changed blouses in front of the one mirror in the room, revealing more than I had seen in those formative years.

Today is a scorcher. The air is heavy with moisture. The grass never dries. Pop-up thunderstorms are a daily occurrence. It is the Dog Days of summer. When I was a kid in Eldorado, I did not like the heat of summer. I enjoyed summer vacation, but the weather was miserable. On the days Neva J and I did not go to Pounds Hollow, I asked if we could. My primary means of transportation was my bicycle. I first had a bicycle that looked like a motorcycle. It was fun to look at and difficult to ride. The wheels were knobby and interfaced poorly with the gravel road I lived on. When I got my three-speed bicycle, I was in nirvana. The three-speed cost $70 dollars which was a lot of money in the 60s. I rode it everywhere. I rode it to the little village of Wasson. I was a knight of the open road. It was almost like having a car. I loved to change the speeds and see how fast I could ride. Once in a while, I buy a pack of Marlboro cigarettes to smoke on the bike ride. I was standing in tall clover in those days. Me and the Marlboro Man had it under control.

Neva J smoked Salem cigarettes. She smoked one or two daily. She said that she did not like them, but that all adults smoke. I liked their menthol smooth flavor and took one or two into the restroom and smoked them quickly with the window open and my large canister of bug spray as my accompanying friend. After the sin of smoking Marlboros in the toilet, I sprayed an abundance of bug spray to cover the smoke odor. The canister was the 60s variety of a pump sprayer with the spray contained in a compartment at the front of the device. Neva J finally told me that if I wanted to smoke some of her Salems, I should stop hiding and smoke them in front of her. I did from time to time, but my conscience stung, and I went back to Marlborough’s uptown from the Dairy Queen.

I wrote and enjoyed it from grade school forward. Mr. Feazel and Ms. Barton complimented me and encouraged me. I did not find writing a burden, but a wonderful artistic release. Mr. Feazel said I wrote in a particular conversational style. Ms. Barton told the class that my paper was like none she had seen in Junior High School. As you can see, I never forgot a teacher or, later, a professor who complimented me.

I carried a load as a child, not unlike many kids. Neva J was fragile at times after her and my father’s divorce. She confided in me more than anyone. We were buddies. We were in it together. She began to lose blood from her colon. I feared she had colon cancer. I called her each day from the payphone at school. I turned out she had a benign obstruction in her colon. It took major surgery to remove, and she looked like she was dead when Earl and I visited her in her hospital room. Not long after this frightening event, we began attending church.

The friendliness of the people in the little white church in Elkville was compelling. Most were senior citizens, and it was like having 100 grandparents. I made a practice of shaking hands and speaking with everyone in the sanctuary. They were all glad to see me, and I was them. The preacher was an old-time Pentecostal minister who had a wonderful singing voice and treated me like a son. He was a World War II Veteran and fought at Guadalcanal. He called me Jaycifer, which conjured up images of Lucifer. Everyone in the church called me Jaycifer. What a nickname. I gained some great friends and a wife from my 18 years in the non-denominational church. Steve, who worked, went on to work for Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale a few months after I was hired. Jeff, who had been a homeless Jewish boy on the streets of Chicago and became a millionaire. Brent, who treated me kindly when I assisted him in carpet laying and was beginning to apprentice me into the craft. The little white church believed in raising up preachers from the congregation, and subsequently, I spoke many weekends. I later went on the officiate at over 30 funerals. There was a time that I believed that only God could make a minister and not a Seminary. I have since changed this belief.

In my middle years, I met Dr. Jo Ann Argersinger. I was a member of the Chancellor Search Committee who brought her to Campus for three days of Open Forums and interviews. I saw Dr. Argersinger had a heart for working with blue-collar people. What a tremendous addition her becoming the Chancellor of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale would be. Jo Ann understood the value of staff to the university’s success. Jo Ann would walk into the middle of a field being mowed by a Grounds worker to shake their hand and introduce herself, and inquire about their opinions regarding our Campus. Jo Ann inspired staff, faculty, and students. Jo Ann became the Chancellor only to be terminated for spite, as Jerry Seinfeld depicted in his wonderful comedy. The Campus had never been the same.

Life in Eldorado is life in middle America. Eldorado was a coal mining town. We are not all financial planners. Appalachia has an influence on us. We seek leaders who understand our lives. Not a gratuitous comment, but real understanding. We midwesterners live and die without hope of recognition by East Coast Elites. For some inexplicable reason, public policy seems to exude from where the nation began in the Revolutionary War. But we are here. We matter. We have a sense of place unlike any in the country. We are who you count on to populate your armies for your wars. We have been forgotten so many times that the words of an obvious conman resonate with our group.

Eldorado was a big town to me. There were many shops, including a great Ben Franklin Dime Store. The Dime Store had a plethora of things that I wanted. They had the Action Figure Daniel Boone molded to look like the actor Fess Parker, who portrayed Daniel Boone on TV. He was two dollars, and Neva J told me that we did not have the money. When we had the money, he was gone. My best friend Jackie had a Daniel Boone Action Figure, but when we played with our Action Figures… not dolls…Jackie insisted on playing with Daniel Boone, who looked just like Fess Parker.

Thelma, Jackie’s mother, taught me the efficacy of eating Oscar Mayer Wieners directly out of the package. Thelma said that Jackie had always been a bit fleshy. I told an airline attendant that I needed a seat-belt extender as I had always been a bit fleshy, and he laughed. I was happy that I could brighten his day.

Neva J was reading daily. She belonged to the Book Of The Month Club. Each month, you select a book from BOTMC, or the Club will send you its monthly choice. Neva J read The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by William Shirer. Books were important in our country home. Most people read. It was a primary component of entertainment. We read and listened to our long-playing vinyl records. We also carried transistor radios. I had a few during my youth. They were a bit magical, as you could have music with you wherever you were. Of course, there was nothing to compare with the reel-to-reel tape recorder. I wanted a reel-to-reel for some time and finally got one for my eighth-grade graduation. I recall recording the soundtrack to the movie Ben-Hur with Charlton Heston. I spent hours listening to it and marveling at the technology that enabled me to capture the majestic music on tape. My Aunt Vema had been an avid reel-to-reel aficionado and thus made tape recordings at family events, including Christmas. Vema reminded me until I was well into adulthood that I said, ‘I did not want ‘No’ ‘shoit’ for Christmas.

We had fried potatoes six out of seven nights…I assumed most people did the same. Liver and onions every week, as it was recommended for healthy blood. I despised liver but liked the onions. I loved pepperoni sticks from the Food Center. Friday was grocery day because it was payday. My request was two pepperoni sticks for dinner or Totino’s Pizza. Friday was a special night. There was the Friday night feature at the Orpheum Theatre. Often, there would be a monster flick or a science fiction thriller. All the kids went on Friday night, which detracted from the performance due to the noise and spitballs flying through the darkened Theatre. The teenagers would be gunning their hemi engines and peeling out with their slick tires in front of the Theatre for the entertainment of the teenage girls.

Grandma A and most of her girls were dedicated to church attendance. Neva J and I did not attend. We were bohemians. We followed our eclectic inclinations. We were not interested in a fellow human telling us how to live our lives. Neva J read Freud. I read Edgar Allen Poe and Edgar Cayce. We were on the outside and liked it.