Today holds promise. The blue sky is full of fluffy white clouds. July is moving along with purpose. We search for the answers to life’s persistent questions. Our hearts are full of the joy of the past and hope for the future. We remember the trail. We have tales from the trail. There were pitfalls and boulders in our path. Sometimes we held on for dear life. I recall when becoming 40 seemed old. I walked by a mirror we had in our four-room house and looked at the image of the old man staring back at me. He seemed happy and tired. As Neva J said, she was born tired and never got rested. Much of life has felt that way. There were Saluki Football games to attend. Jonathon explained to me how football is played. I enjoyed watching the people in the stands. Once, we attended a University of Illinois Football game and almost froze to death. I have never been so cold. We left early with numb and burning feet.

Christmas produces the fondest memories. Fernie said each year regarding me that I was a man who truly enjoyed Christmas. Fernie and I had the love of Christmas in common. We erected the seven-foot Christmas tree in front of our humongous picture window. It was like a wall of glass. When the curtains were open, the outside world was welcomed into our living room. Jason would knock on our door and ask if the boys could come out and play. They were more than ready for adventure. Aaron and Jonathon wile away hours enjoying the mystery of the Village of Elkville. I sat in the big red recliner in front of the picture window and dreamed of the joys of the holidays that awaited. Fernie sold Avon after her retirement and sold it to MJ and me at cost. I had Avon Cars and other unique decanters that held Men’s Cologne. The decanters were collectors’ items. I had an Avon decanter that was in the shape of a hand that I kept for years. At Christmastime, our little gas furnace would work overtime keeping our abode warm. It was an old house built in the early days of the last century, and there were a lot of cracks. One Christmas, when money was especially tight, I read a book about hunger and was hungry after the Christmas feast had concluded.

In those halcyon days, I was fascinated by the new idea of home computers. We bought a used black and white television to use as a computer monitor for a Texas Instruments computer. I thought I was in Heaven. I home-computed while in between reading chapters from The Hunger Book. We bought our first actual Home Computer from Montgomery Ward one Christmas. It cost two thousand dollars and was good for playing the Oregon Trail and word processing. It was not connected to the internet as the Village of Elkville did not have internet service. That was the year of Nintendo. Nintendo was a miracle. Aaron and Jonathon went to Eldorado to spend several days with Neva J and Earl, as was their custom. MJ and I played Baseball all night until dawn. Technology had sucked us in.

I watched Mike on Sunday at Ron’s Birthday party as he cooked the food for our enjoyment. What a study in quiet power and dignity. He and Tara have raised some wonderful children. Time after time, Mike has impressed me with his great father skills.

An old Christian Hymn is Remind Me, Dear Lord. We are subsumed by the great forgetting. We forget where we came from and who we were. Someone extended a hand of friendship and love to us when we had nothing to offer but goodwill. It is believed that our country will soon suffer from a lack of immigrants. We are an aging nation. I helped Berl roof his new home. Now I seek others to give me an estimate on hail damage. We need to be reminded to be our better selves. I remember the days when Aunt Lauretta and Uncle Merl took me under their wings and appreciated what I had to offer. Merl treated me like a father would a son. I felt warm in my heart and hot on my skin as we were in El Paso, Texas. We visited El Paso many times. MJ and I, and our sons, were treated like the Royal Family. Love does not have to be described. You know it when you feel it.

Somehow, we have forgotten our roots along the way to success. We think everyone eats rib-eye steaks and fillet mignon on the Fourth of July. Did not everyone have the opportunities we had in the world of work? Perhaps we ascribe more to our abilities than to the kindness of strangers. If we let hate take up residence in our hearts, we are lesser for the action. Many of us made the path to success with all of its massive holes and extreme drop-offs to oblivion. Others were not so lucky.

Hours to spend. How to spend them. We are rich in time one day and poor the next. Retirees often say that they don’t know how they found time to work. Is it possible to be penny-wise and pound-foolish with time? Or as my friend Jarvis told me when he first retired, that he was spending too much money, as everywhere he went, there was something to purchase. Time marches past us like a passing parade; we must jump in to keep time to the music.

The animals learn their roles in the ocean of time. From morning till night, they are busy spending their valuable commodity. Focus is vital to the enjoyment of time. ‘I must be about my father’s business,’ when Jesus was found by his parents in the temple.

Nihilism is growing in our land. ‘Friedrich Nietzsche said that modern society has destroyed God, stripping society of its value system and creating societal nihilism.’ People who ascribe to nihilism can explore the joy of the immediate experience and find joy in the moment. Many seek to create their own meaning of life. Others are not tethered to morality or ethics since nothing in their philosophy has meaning. These people in leadership political positions are dangerous.

I remember wanting a Kenner Projector for kids that showed a cartoon slide on the wall of your bedroom or on the ceiling from bed. When I got one for Christmas, I was overjoyed. I was in control of a cartoon that I loved. Life in Chicago was fun. Friends on both ends of the street and hours of watching Steve give Marionette shows. The Marionettes were alive to me. Puppets on a string. Oh, the predicaments they got in and had to extricate themselves from. At times, their strings would get tangled. Depending on the proficiency of the Puppeteer, they might go left when they intended to go right. When they attempted to sit, they might get their feet crossed and fall to the floor to finish the scene from the prone position. All depended on the focus of the Puppet Master. So it goes with our Look Through Time as we remember when our strings got tangled or our feet became crossed. The Puppet Master picked us up and we began again.

We struggle to fill our days with purpose until we focus on a purpose that inspires us. Once that calling is secure in our psyche, we are off to the races. The most satisfying of accomplishments come from helping others. Those who have no friend or advocate need someone to be their voice. Someone who cares if the marionettes are in a tangled mess on the floor.

The 4th has come and gone. It was fun, and the steaks were excellent from Chef Aaron. Cards were played, and Jonathon won. Jennifer is a quick study and a pleasure to be around.

We attended a wonderful birthday celebration for Uncle Ron on Sunday. Tara is a gracious host. The tranquility of the lake engulfed me. It was a perfect conclusion for the 4th of July Weekend.

Onward we go in the experience of summer. The rain comes in torrents. Flash flooding is now a reality across our country. The fragility of our existence is sobering. Many children’s lives are lost in Texas. It is beyond words of grief.

Christmas is coming, and where is the goose to fatten up? A day seems like an hour and a week like a day. ‘The best laid plans of mice and men suddenly go awry.’ The pages of the book of our lives blow in a stiff breeze. You have to hurry to read the pages. Politicians conspire and scheme on how to become richer and more powerful. It is all a poor man’s dream. Everything returns to dust, then to molecules, and then to the universe. We are made from cosmic dust.

The Bible asks us, ‘What has a man gained if he has the whole world and loses his soul?’ Thought-provoking as I am in the 50th year of my high school days. I remember wondering what life had in store as I stood in the Commencement line. I knew I was moving the next morning. I was 17. I hoped to understand faith better. I wanted to obtain a job that would sustain my needs. In those halcyon days, I wanted to be a minister. Faith had brought meaning to my life. Having seen people abused and criticized, I wanted to bring a balm of Gilead. To have words that would be a healing salve for wounds. I hoped to be a person who heard those who have no voice and saw those who are unseen.

‘There is the mayor,’ Thomas said. ‘She is kind,’ Thomas added. ‘Her staff passes me by, but she always stops and gives me some money and asks how I am,’ Thomas noted. ‘Mayor Carolin knows what it is like to be marginalized and forgotten,’ Thomas observed. ‘Mayor C understands words without works are hollow,’ Thomas said. ‘Mayor C offered me a bed in her home when I had nowhere to shelter from the freezing cold,’ Thomas noted. ‘She told me that community leaders passed her by many times without a glance or acknowledgment,’ Thomas whispered.

‘While I am Mayor of Carbondale, we will see the unseen and hear the unheard,’ Mayor Carolin said. ‘I remember Jim Crow and sitting in the balcony of the Varsity Theatre because I am black,’ Mayor Carolin said. ‘ All people and all races have my number and they can call me night or day,’ Mayor Carolin promised.

So it goes, we have a nation that has turned its back on the poor and homeless and those who are unseen and unheard. It has been said that money talks and bullshit walks. But not everywhere. Many cities, towns, and villages still believe in the Golden Rule. We still believe in the message of Christ. The lame were welcome at the table of Melchizedek. The hungry and needy are welcomed by Christians walking with the message of Jesus.

The cool breeze was welcome in July. Many middle-class Americans and the wealthy thought little of the coming fall and winter. I enjoy the bounty of the greatest country on the face of the Earth, those with ample resources thought. I will build bigger barns and stock them with the bounty of my abundance. I am a king among my community, and they recognize me for my accomplishments. Before you know it, we will set fire to the fireplaces and make spiced apple cider for the community. Our friends will praise our Good Samaritan Works. No one will suffer in our vision. We will give apples and pears and grapes, and cherries to the poor. They like those fruits. A Hoecake will be for the poor among us. Lively music and some ale for the Christmas Blessing.

It is humid. Rain has made it more humid. Aaron said, ‘As a young child,” It is really human outside.’ I liked the correlation between humidity and humans. We are all human. It is a strange state of being, and it is all we know. I have grown accustomed to humanity. The spiritual elements that comprise us are a miracle for a creature composed of dirt and water. We are spiritual beings in earthen vessels.

Sunday spreads its wings before us. Each day is an adventure and a particular challenge. Like snowflakes, no two are alike. Not knowing what awaits us, we prepare for eventualities. We have no GPS or roadmap. Our journey is by faith, not by sight. Eating food outside is fun. It reminds us of our past when we hunted and gathered. It was not so long ago that we were an agricultural society. Speaking of AI was Science Fiction. I recall my wonder at the internet. It was difficult to imagine what I was being told. The world was as close as your computer and your dial-up modem if you had the patience of Job. Video over the internet was unheard of in my world when I read that soon the primary conveyor of movies and media would be streaming. There would be little need for VHS Tapes or Movies on Disk. We visited Blockbuster Video regularly.

I could not imagine reading books on computer screens or devices sold for that purpose. I have hundreds of books. Now I listen to books on Audible.com. Times change. We grow in many ways while diminishing in others. The President’s Big Beautiful Bill passed. Now, fans of the legislation announce that you can no longer play video games and live on Medicaid. Medicaid is for poor people who are in nursing homes or receiving medical care that is not available to them due to their poverty. Many of the President’s supporters will lose their Medicaid. The Republican Party is full of poor folks, not just the rich. So it goes.

We used to help each other. Now we look the other way or cross to the other side of the street when we see a homeless person. Telling the disadvantaged to get up off their lazy ass and get a job is a myth that I have heard since a child. I know many poor people, and they are not lazy. I come from a poor family that worked hard for its bread. Before the internet, before home computers and cable television. I recall when baloney was a delicacy, and it was even better fried. There was a government program in my little town called Relief. No one wanted to be on it. It was not fun or a key to not working; it was a meager means to avoid starvation.

The Cubs will be playing today. It is Sunday of the 4th of July Weekend. We will laugh and count our blessings while many poor people are working their asses off to survive.

‘We are going to eat the hell out of those Oscar Mayer Weiners,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘You do know that I like them straight out of the package,’ Chet added. ‘Fireworks on the creek will be spectacular,’ Chet observed. ‘Perhaps it will scare the water moccasins away, ‘ Chet noted. ‘The Creature From The Black Lagoon is planning on joining us this 4th for our Independence Day Celebration,’ Chet informed. ‘Creature told me that he will show us the unique way they celebrate the Holiday. ‘Creature told me we should bring large fishing hooks, the kind you use to fish for Marlin, and that he would provide the bait,’ Chet winked. ‘I wonder what bait he will bring,’ Chet said.

‘Well, all I know is we will have Merlot and plenty of steaks,’ Neva J said. ‘I also have the makings for S’mores for the evening when we are watching the Fireworks,’ Neva J laughed. ‘Should we bring a pair of Trunks for Creature?’ Neva J asked. ‘I bet he wears extra large,’ Neva J said with a wink.

‘Look, there ahead is the Creature with a big ice chest that he is pulling behind him,’ Jane observed. ‘He is smiling a wide, toothy grin,’ Jane noted. ‘I wonder if he likes Oscar Mayer Weiners or if he is a steak Creature,’ Jane said.

‘Greetings, my friends,’ Creature said with a hearty wave. ‘I brought the special bait and some wonderful cigars to smoke around the campfire,’ Creature noted with aplomb. ‘I brought Stinky Bait for the big fishing hooks, which is what we use in the Ocean,’ Creature said. ‘You may want to hold your noses as humans find it somewhat objectionable,’ the Creature smiled. ‘I use five pounds of Stinky Bait on each hook,’ the Creature said with a wink.

‘Oh my god, what is that terrible smell? I can not stand it,’ Ms. Clarissa said as she gathered her beach towels.

‘Come, my dear, we will go to another beach that does not stink so badly, Dennis the Menace’s dad said with a frown.

‘Well, the Stinky Bait works every time, not always for catching big fish, but always providing ample space to watch Fireworks,’ the Creature laughed.

Whisps of cotton are in the air. As I sit on the Writing Porch, they blow languidly by. The blue sky is full of fluffy cotton clouds. Nature is resting. The explosions will soon start. Spirits will be high, and some will be filled with spirits. The 4th of July is a rite of passage in the United States. We live in a great country and tell ourselves often how great it is. Lee Greenwood sings, ‘I Am Proud To Be An American.’ The next line of the tune states, ‘At least I know I’m Free.’ Many of us sing those words without a thought that we are not all free. Poverty is a jail cell. Being different is a prison in a government that recognizes only itself. Diversity was once applauded, but is now hidden in the shadows. Americans are good-hearted people who do not want those less fortunate than they are to suffer or have food insecurity. Americans want every child to be well fed.

All Americans have shared the idea of a social safety net. All of us have mothers and fathers who have had to use the services of nursing homes and home healthcare. Our brothers and sisters, friends, and neighbors are good Americans, and many voted for the current President. Many are poor and work hard, fly our flag with American Pride. All races have fought and died for Our United States of America. Immigrants lie beneath the white grave markers of our military cemeteries.

Soldiers of all faiths and no recognized faith gave their lives freely for America. They believed in the concept that all men are created equal. They gave their ultimate sacrifice for the promise of America. In the foxhole, there was neither black nor white but only Americans.

‘When I see the colorful display of fireworks, I think of those who gave their lives for our freedom,’ Chet said. ‘Dad fought in World War II and Earl in the Korean War,’ Chet noted. ‘Neva J worked in the Armament Factory making shells,’ Chet continued. ‘Dad’s best friend was Homer Gibbons, a black man from Alabama,’ Chet noted. ‘Dad and Homer called each other brothers,’ Chet said quietly. ‘They got together each July 4th, raise the Flag and conduct a small ceremony,’ Chet said. ‘On alternate years Homer and his family celebrated Christmas with us in Illinois, and the next year we celebrated with them in Alabama,’ Chet mused with tears in his eyes.

‘I was reflecting on our time together in the field hospital in England,’ Sherrie said to Maude. ‘There was so much dying and amputations that I fled the operating theatre and you came to comfort me,’ Sherrie said. ‘The men loved us and treated us better than family,’ Sherrie reflected. ‘We held their hands and listened to them when there was no one else to hear,’ Sherrie said in a whisper. ‘We all were united as one because we were fighting for America and the right of our struggle,’ Sherrie offered.

‘Remember when we had Christmas for the men in the amputation wing,’ Maude said. ‘Those that could not feed themselves we fed and we created a choir for Christmas songs that sounded better than anything I have heard on Bing Crosby’s Christmas Specials,’ Maude laughed. ‘I told some of the men that we hoped to have a child when we returned to the states, and several offered to be a sperm donor with tears in their eyes,’ Maude reflected. ‘They loved us for who we were and we loved them like our fathers and brothers and would have died for them,’ Maude reflected.

So there you have it, Proud Americans are a Rainbow of colors and birthplaces. We are Gay and Straight, we are black and white, we are Jew and Gentile. The re-writers of history have come too late to change who we are as we salute our wonderful Flag.

The old man woke and thought he must have slept a long time. It had been a few minutes. There is a bit of magic in sleep. One minute you are here, and the next you may be a spy in a mystery. Suddenly, you look around you for your fellow spies, and they are an assembly of grinning clowns. As you pick the lock of the secret door, you enter and are back in your bed, looking for the night light. Such is the dream world and our present reality. Have you ever experienced a dream that was so real you wanted to go back to sleep to see what happened next? Or at times do you feel you may be dreaming when the lights are on and there is no bed to be found.

Ethereal thoughts follow us. All seems right and well until a spectre appears that we recognize from our subconscious. It is always with us, yet just outside our peripheral vision. We see a thousand faces throughout our days, and yet one or two stay with us. We connected yet know not how. Is a person we have loved our unseen companion? It is someone interested in our well-being. The stages we performed on had characters we loved at the time of our mutual performance. Then the show was over and we went our separate ways for the next Gig. What happened to our friend?

The Old Man stopped and stared. Before him was someone who looked just like he did 40 years ago. His younger self was laughing and preparing for Christmas. He and MJ were buying their first Christmas Tree with baby Aaron in tow. It was a magnificent tree with Victorian-style ornaments from Walmart. Then he was at a craftswoman’s house to pick up a handmade nativity to celebrate Jesus’ birth, and the enjoyment of their first son’s birth and first Christmas.

When the young man dozed off in the recliner by the front door of the little four-room house as baby Aaron was sleeping in his swing, he dreamed that he was an old man dreaming that he was a young man…

The new seven-foot-tall Christmas Tree stood by the humongous picture window, decorated with brilliant lights and Victorian Ornaments. Baby Aaron cackled with delight!

The market was full of customers this morning. Fireworks in abundance and American Flags for all. Long lines at the cashiers and at the self-checkout as well. The 4th is Friday, and it is the big holiday of the summer. After that, it is Christmas in July. Frank Sinatra told us that the days grow short when you reach September, only two months away. The feeling of our year is a roller coaster ride will increase from here on. The latter half of the year flies by. School will begin next month. A man in the grocery line told us he had opened his pool last night. I wondered if he realized how soon it would be time to close it again. The lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer are like a dream when the cool winds begin to blow and the new textbooks are distributed.

Summer is good for change. Shake things up. Prepare for the frost of winter. What are you doing to develop a bad habit? Stop. Seek what makes you feel whole. Revel in your sense of place. Never project on others the actions or feelings that you want mirrored back to you. Accept folks for who they are.

‘This 4th of July will be the best ever,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘We have Cherry Bombs and Roman Candle Launchers to excite the holiday crowd,’ Jane said. ‘Our fireworks show will be epic,’ Jane smiled. ‘We will not let the One Old Sore Head shoot off the Roman Candles this 4th as he complained all last 4th that they were not sparkling enough,’ Jane observed.

‘One Old Sore Head appeared mysteriously last 4th and I did not think that he existed beyond our sign for Eldorado as you enter town,’ Chet noted. ‘He really is a crumudgeon,’ Chet noted. ‘OOSH told me that he had lived in Eldorado at the turn of the century and in those days they did things better,’ Chet said with a wink. ‘OOSH told me that he had been a founder of Eldorado when it was first named after the Elder and Reader families and that he was left out of the name,’ Chet continued. ‘His name is Frank N. Stein,’ Chet said with a laugh.

‘Frank N. Stein was a good guy, Neva J said. ‘He helped me find a house to rent when I first moved to Eldorado,’ Neva J informed. ‘He comes over on Saturday nights for Bridge, and he often won,’ Neva J winked. ‘Frank got tired of people making fun of his name,’ Neva J observed. ‘He was a serious man and did not suffer fools gladly,’ Neva J said.

‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, now comes the coup de grace, where we will write with fireworks the names of our town fathers in the darkened sky next to the Starlight Drive-In’s big Silver Screen,’ the Announcer proclaimed. ‘Please be prepared for a surprise that will excite and amaze you,’ the Announcer said.

Frank N. Stein smiled as his name was written in the black and starless sky of the 4th of July.

Cool air softens the July 1st heat. It is evening again. The long days are closing up shop a bit earlier each day. 2025 asks What am I going to do with the rest of my life? Birds sing in harmony to The Good Old Summertime. Over the hill, children are playing. Carefree and footloose for now. No alarm clock in the morning, no place to be unless you want to be. Pounds Hollow Creek closes at dusk. There is a little time left for underwater exploration. The Cubs are on a winning streak. They are first in their division. Could this be the year? Steaks on the grill Friday the 4th. We buy them at the meat market tomorrow. Steak is delicious, especially with MJ’s special rub.

It has been said that home is where the heart is. When you carry it home in your heart, then it is always with you. Days of mirth and laughter while holding a sparkler in your young hands. We wondered if we would become a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick maker. Would we marry or just become knights of the open road? The bullfrogs sing around the pond. They have something to say. They are in fine voice this evening. Their resonant bass produces a majestic chorus of recognition of summer.

The old man taps at his computer. Daily, he seeks the beauty of the moment. It really is the moments that make up life. Not the majestic plans but the ongoing flicker of film as the projector of life’s performance on the silver screen moves forward.

‘That actor looks a lot like you, Billy B,’ Chet said. ‘He is sitting with his friends in the Orpheum Theatre watching a movie, at the same time we are sitting in the Orpheum Theatre watching them on the screen,’ Chet marvelled. ‘Could it be that we are the actors in a movie of our lives,’ Chet wondered. ‘Are we performers or are we audience?’ Chet postulated.

‘There go the bottle rockets,’ Jane said with glee. ‘This year will be special with our obtaining some Roman Candles,’ Jane mused. ‘Look at the sweet old folks in their lawn chairs watching us, they enjoy July 4th as much as we do,’ Jane observed. ‘They look familiar and safe, friendly, and they are home,’ Jane said with a tear in her eyes.

‘MeTV is beginning to run Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom with Marlin Perkins,’ Billy B said. ‘I remember watching it the other night along with The Wonderful World of Disney and Lassie,’ Billy B reflected. ‘Was it just a few days ago or a few years?’ Billy B winked as he lit a Roman Candle.

I saw my friend Dan, whom I’ve known for many years, today at the barbershop. His friendly demeanor made my day. We both worked for the University and have similar experiences. Dan is an uplifter. He never leaves me without feeling better for the experience. Friends are a blessing. The only quandary is that Dan is getting younger and I am getting older. Such is life, we think; when we count years, it seems long, but in reality, it is short.

I like pocket knives. I have been an aficionado of the little friends for many years. We visited Gatlinburg, Tennessee, regularly in the past, and during our visit, we attended a massive flea market in Kingsport, Tennessee. I set out each Christmas to visit the Market, not to purchase fleas but rather one or two old Case Knives from a little old lady who knew her product. I felt like a king with my antique Case Knives in my pocket. My friend epitomized my love for Tennessee. She was shrewd and friendly and would negotiate a fair price.

Christmas was fun with our friends Faye and Steve. They had moved to Kingsport in the 90s, and we were the first guests in their new home. I remember the peaceful feeling I had as MJ and I enjoyed the guest bedroom and looked at their collection of Dr. Tom Clark’s Gnomes. We were big Gnome collectors and had the privilege of meeting Tom on a couple of occasions. His works of art drew us into the lives he was portraying. Ezra the Farmer was one of our first acquisitions. In those days, Cracker Barrel Restaurants carried Tom’s works. This was our Art collection before we went to Fine Art in the late 90s.

Woods brings me peace. I go almost every day. It is always new to me. When I take a photo of Woods, I want the viewer to have the same excitement that I experienced when I snapped the shot. Woods is a natural high. Perhaps not a Rocky Mountain High, my available High. Giant City State Park is 15 miles from my home. I hear the strangest sounds when I am photographing the rocks of GC. I think it is an animal, but I can not discern what animal.

Yesterday, a woman dressed in a dress down to her feet stopped to swing on the children’s swings while I was at Woods. She appeared spectral and etheral. I waved at her as I was entering the Subaru, but she did not acknowledge me. She seemed to be walking towards me as I pulled out of the parking area. She was pale and walked to the swings and swung for a minute or two at the most. Then she returned to her car.

Who are we, and why are we here? Is our purpose to make as much money as possible so that our name will be placed on the Big Earner’s Board? Are we here to feel the rhythm of the Earth and our purpose and place in it? Bob Dylan told us that we are going to serve somebody. Why not serve our inner peace?