The fall rains are coming. They are moving from the west. On New Year’s Eve, we eagerly watch the ball descend in Times Square. The significance lies in the fact that a New Year has begun. In reality, a New Year starts for us each morning. Our lives are what we make of them. ‘We are the masters of our fate and the captains of our souls.’ No one can live our life for us. The good, bad, and ugly rest on our doorstep. They call to us as we enter or leave our homes. The ingredients for a wonderful layer cake are before us. It is up to us to bake it. Age slows us down, giving us more time to think. Thinking is a beautiful experience. We seek a manual for living. An instruction book that gives A-Z for the path of life. A book that does our thinking for us. It is hard to find the instruction manual on TV. Many voices that have thought about what they are going to say and how it serves their agenda.

‘Immigrants are stealing our jobs,’ TV Newscaster intoned. ‘People who do not live according to our interpretation of the Bible and our religious dogma are not true Americans,’ the TV Newscaster continued. ‘We must save the Republic and return it to what the founding fathers intended,’ the TV Newscaster said passionately. ‘The Old Time Religion of acceptance and grace does not apply in this pitched battle,’ the TV Newscaster advised. ‘Our leader must be in the mode of King David of the Old Testament,’ the TV Newscaster demanded. ‘
God’s love is conditional, and we, the chosen, will decide who gets it,’ the TV Newscaster said. ‘We seek a theocracy, not a democracy,’ the TV Newscaster advised.

The Old Man marveled at the peace of the Autumn Woods. The Old Stones spoke to him. They said Come and rest awhile beneath our shelter. The Stones have seen many travelers. People with worries and cares have stopped by for a visit. Some carried backpacks of sadness. Some held satchels of joy. All were on the joint journey. We share the Journey. No matter our politics or religion, we are going in the same direction. At the heights of our revelries in our halcyon days, we are no different than our brothers and sisters. For a season, we are kings of the county. Money and plans have no end. Then we wake up old. Education and understanding did not perform as wisdom. We wanted Wisdom and got rhetoric as a weak replacement. We focus on turning the crank of the money machine faster. The holidays and birthdays were nice, the love pricked our hearts with the question, Is there more? Our mentors betrayed us. They sold us schemes that made them rich while we remained in poverty. We looked to the stars of sports, Hollywood, Religion Politics for answers to life’s persistent questions. They promised us they had the answers. When we sought our heroes, they had moved with no forwarding address.

The Bullfrog Quartet is tuning their instruments. Their rich bass voices are more needed than ever. They hope the humans do not destroy their home. ‘There is room for all of us,’ Papa Bullfrog said. ‘We are in the Garden of Eden,’ Pappa Bullfrog continued. ‘What a gift we have been given,’ PBF whispered. ‘Nothing shall hurt or destroy in all of my holy mountain the Bible says, Pappa Bullfrog quoted. ‘Think about what you hear and see and say,’ PBF said. ‘We are the words of our mouth and the meditations of our hearts,’ Pappa BF noted solemnly.

The Weaver weaves a beautiful rug. Slowly and carefully over each pass of the loom, the multicolor creation forms. It is difficult to visualize the finished product; it requires faith.