Carbondale tied the 1910 record for the coldest temperature in August. Fall is coming. I can hear Christmas Bells in the distance. We are happier in the Cool Breeze. Problems do not seem so big when our brains are not overheating. Cool evenings are a good time to visit the state fair. The well-laid plans of mice and men suddenly go awry…but not in the cool days before fall. Hope reigns supreme when we don’t have to wipe away sweat. I am a knife aficionado. My lifelong friend Brent gave me a wonderful knife last evening. I have added it to my collection. I had no knife like it. We Southern Illinois boys love a good pocket knife. Uncle Jeb on the Beverly Hillbillies wittled. I have not taken wittling up, but I might. Jeb and family struck oil and moved to Beverly Hills. The pool table in the fancy eating room was used for grand hillbilly dinners of possum and gravy. The pool cues were the fancy pot passers. Ellie May loved her critters. There were raccoons, skunks, monkeys, and more. Mr. Drysdale was excited about anything the Clampetts did. He liked their 40 million dollars in his bank. Nothing has changed in 60-plus years.

Jonathon and I were reflecting on the appeal of the State Fair. As a child, the State Fair was the big city to me. There were things at the Fair that I did not see anywhere else. The Headless Man and the Gorilla Man. Brilliant neon lights that captivated my imagination. The Fair illustrated to me the vastness of the world. Everything was not contained in Eldorado. There were many different people on the planet. Humanity was a kaleidoscope of color and opinions. I could see the world from the bird’s-eye view of the top of the Ferris Wheel. Some women have beards. Clowns seemed to have an evil agenda. Their grotesque, toothy grin hid their Machiavellian purpose. Behind the biggest smiles is danger. So it goes. Today, the politician smiles so wide their faces hurt. The promise Channel #5, but give us Old Spice. We wonder if we are still alive or if we died and no one told us. I am reminded of being in a Florist Shop and realizing neither the proprietor nor any of the customers seemed to see me. I considered if this is what death feels like at first. You are still there…but you are not.

The Writing Porch is lovely. The Cool Breeze is wafting through the air. When I sit on the Writing Porch, I feel like I am in Maine. Maine elicits creative feelings in the Old Man. 2025 is our first year in the last few that we aren’t going to Maine. We have traded it for New Orleans in January. Maine has a draw on my soul. The rhythm is easy and the tempo is light. People are friendly but not familiar. The Ocean has a Siren Call. I want to be on a sailboat. The adventure of riding the wind is compelling.

In a sailboat on the ocean, we see that we are but a speck in the universe. Others are not privileged, we are here…we are privileged to be here. What a panoply of tastes, colors, and experiences we partake. I have discovered that life is the State Fair.