Summer days are numbered. One more to go. There will be a closing of the door. Fall is ready to enter. It is drinking pumpkin spice coffee and planning a hayride. The Old Man is receiving a flannel shirt from L.L. Bean for a birthday gift. Autumn calls for different priorities. Christmas Carols begin now. A lot of talking about Holiday Jouneys. A Fall Fun state of mind.

The Frog Quartet has on its Christmas Costumes for the nightly performance. Actually, they will first wear orange for Halloween with pumpkins on stage. Then, on Thanksgiving, they will be joined by a singing Turkey. Finally, the white icing on the red velvet cake will be the dressing for Santa’s elves.

‘Mrs. K has placed on the bulletin board some Halloween Skeletons and pumpkins,’ Chet said. ‘The decorations make the classroom much more enjoyable,’ Chet continued. ‘The Orpheum Theatre will have a showing of The Bride of Frankenstein Friday night,’ Chet informed. ‘Let’s go and see if she screams the same shrill scream that she did the last time we saw the movie,’ Chet laughed. ‘After I heard that scream, I considered why Frankenstein enjoyed cigars,’ Chet winked. ‘She seemed a bit sensitive,’ Chet mused.

‘I have a new bowler hat to wear on Halloween,’ Billy B announced. I bought it at a hat store in Madison, Wisconsin,’ Billy B said. ‘I think after Halloween, I will wear it regularly, it has character and I feel like a character wearing it,’ Billy B chuckled. It is an old-style hat that you do not see being worn today,’ Billy B noted. ‘It is from Victorian times and has an old-world ambiance surrounding it,’ Billy B smiled. ‘People will remember me when they see the Bowler hat,’ Billy B said triumphantly.

So the spirit is willing at Halloween and throughout the Holidays. ‘I will host a Halloween party at my haunted house,’ Billy B announced. ‘We will bob for apples and tell ghost stories,’ Billy B laughed a macabre laugh. ‘We will have special visitors at the Party,’ Billy B promised.

‘Everyone join hands while I turn out the lights and we tell stories by candlelight,’ Jane instructed. ‘There is a pillow for each of you to sit on while you hold your neighbor’s hand,’ Jane advised. ‘It was a dark and stormy night when suddenly the hands we were holding seemed somehow different and alien from what we were used to,’ Jane said with a giddy laugh…

The grass was crunchy. The soil was hard and had wide cracks. It had been dry for a long time. Dry where the corn dust makes you sneeze. Dry where the ponds become pot holes. The leaves fall early due to a lack of incentive. We heard thunder this morning. It was like a dream. It had been a long time. Headaches from the dust. The little tree needs water. We rely on the refreshment of aqua. We are primarily water.

Fall Rains are coming. Our faces to the sky. Our tongues outstretched. Anticipation is glorious. We need watering. Life has been dry, and the rocks are in the tillable soil. Thorns and thistles instead of roses and lilacs. Some say that survival of the fittest is a concept until time and chance make them unfit. Then they cry for rain and a second chance. There is fire on the mountain. The red glow lights the city below. There is no rain, the people cried. The dust is in our throats, the hot embers burn our feet. The baby has no milk. There are no apples nor pears. The oranges do not yield their juice. The Peacemaker King’s message is no longer trumpeted. ‘Give us Barabas,’ the people cried!

‘Perhaps we should give the homeless lethal injections,’ the Newscaster suggested.

‘Free Speech is what I say it is,’ the Emperor said. ‘What I do is in the interest of the American People,’ the Emperor said. ‘Soon I will control all things,’ the Emperor noted with a little dance. ‘If you speak against me, you will pay,’ the Emperor vowed.

It was so dry, and the dust of discontent spread. The people tried to speak, but only dust came out of their mouths. They feared their water being rashioned. After all, they were in a drought. They had already given up much water and had little to spare. They whispered in corners in the shadows. Who knew where the Emperor’s anger would take them? Those who had protected their money were broke. Little tornadoes cascaded through Wall Street around the Precious Bull. There were tumbleweeds and dust so thick you could not leave your home without a mask over your mouth and nose. People coughed incessantly. Once they had the power to speak, now it took all of their power to breathe.

Ninety-degree weather three days before Fall. As the young lady who brought my Walmart order to the Subaru told me, ‘It is too f—— hot.’ At first, I was surprised, but then I considered the gift of free speech. I agreed with her diagnosis. So it goes as we seek a more perfect union. On occasion, we are dramatic. It comes with the territory. The Woods were quiet this morning except for one old man with a long beard carrying a bucket. I wondered if he was collecting berries or acorns.

We would have been just back from Maine two years ago when Marcy and Brock joined us. We stayed in a haunted house and had a ghost call out hello to us. It was great fun. It was hot in Maine that September. On the Lighthouse Open House Day, we visited several. Lighthouses are intriguing. I wondered if the Lighthouse operator of years gone by watched us as a ghost. The spirit was watching the visitors. ‘Welcome the old man said to the visitors.’ ‘I have been waiting for your arrival,’ Old Salt said. ‘I have been shining the light here for nearly 200 years,’ Old Salt continued. ‘Many ships have been saved from running against the rocks on shore,’ OS noted. ‘I do not sleep much these days,’ Old Salt said. ‘There are so many risk takers, and I am only one man against the storm,’ OS mused. ‘There is a pervasive devil-may-care attitude of the last couple of generations,’ Old Salt advised. ‘100 years ago, the seafarers respected the Lighthouse and the Lighthouse Keeper,’ OS said. ‘They understood the Lighthouse was there for their protection,’ Old Salt proclaimed as he puffed his pipe. ‘Now anything goes with people allowing their kids to play on the jagged rocks on shore, seemingly unaware of the danger,’ Old Salt noted sorrowfully. ‘The other day a child fell between the stones and died while onlookers kept dancing across them as if they were invincible,’ OS whispered. ‘The Lighthouse has lost its

meaning and the living are the worse for it,’ Old Salt commiserated as a tear coursed down his cheek.

‘Where do you stay in the Lighthouse?’ Brock asked. ‘I see a cot in the corner that looks unused. ‘As we walked the large rocks on the shore, I heard the sound of someone calling danger,’ Brock said. ‘Jay thought it was the wind howling, but the wind does not utter words,’ Brock said. ‘I glimpsed a sailor with his cap and pipe on the rocks, but he disappeared in the fog,’ Brock noted. ‘He looked like you,’ Brock said with a grin.

‘I walk the boulders daily and often all night, ‘Old Salt said. ‘There have been many ships run aground,’ Old Salt continued. ‘The sailors and their families are engrossed with debating who is right and who is wrong, who is holy and who is demonic,’ Old Salt said. ‘They are so involved in the politics of the moment that they do not see the jagged rocks nor hear me crying danger,’ Old Salt beamoaned. ‘When they see the Light or hear me scream the dangerous warning, they prefer their conspiracy theories and bias and prejudice which they accept as reality,’ Old Salt said with a bowed head. ‘One boat’s crew laughs while another runs aground and attests that it was good enough for the unbelievers,’ OS noted. ‘Often a boat will, in turn, run aground while they are taking joy in their perceived enemies’ destruction.

Old Salt is still watching. We fight for a place at the table when we are not hungry. We want everyone to be like us when we often do not like them. Leaders crave praise and pagentry. See me, love me, worship me, they say. If you disagree with the Emperor, whisper it in a dark corner. Let no one know the rocky shore is ahead. In the game of musical chairs, do not lose your seat…

A fine morning for furniture delivery. The red chairs are here. Brilliance has returned to our lives. We feel young again! Fire in our bellies. A spring in our step. The bright purpose of red guides us. No more muted colors for us. Now we live in the sun. A little old person’s dance is in order. It is amazing what red color can do for your outlook.

The Pursuit is daily. There is no holiday from seeking. Life is happening. We plan for what we are experiencing. The magic, mysterious someday is today. We seek the Holy Grail. We are waiting for Godot. We walk the path back to Jerusalem. Some have a short walk while others have a lengthy one.

We dodge the dodgeball that is often thrown at us. It hurts when it hits. Fall is almost here. Time to reflect and renew. Time to recharge and respond. We represent the hope of the ages. A miracle of purpose and design. We are Energizer Bunnies. We do not stop. Life is to be lived! Prioritization of purpose. We can not follow every interesting trail. Focus is essential. Who are we, where are we, and what is our destination? Movement is the key to happiness. Always going forward. Never look back with regret. Look forward with resolve and hope. There is a door that we will walk through. On the other side are delights that the eye has not seen nor ear heard, neither has entered into the hearts of men.’

My neighbor has the largest and elaborate Halloween outdoor scene that I have ever seen. A twelve-foot skeleton and accompanying figures. Bring on the Holidays. The Holidays help us in our pursuit. They wash the dust of the trail from us. They renew our spirits. Our minds are enlivened by the joy. We reflect and help those in need. None of us is an island. We need each other. Work to understand your neighbor. Ask them to join you in the Pursuit of life’s journey. Our Pursuit is in search of Harmony. Harmony in our souls and with all of God’s creation.

The last week of summer is going out like a lion. Leaves are changing colors and falling rapidly as the sun shines hot. We know it is hot chocolate season. Things change. Understanding is somewhat rare in our world. No one has all of the answers. Some say, ‘Let me earn all the money I can.’ Others say I work 16 hours a day and have little to eat. Both are valid concerns that no one should be demonized for. The rich retire to their gated enclaves. The poor rest their heads where they find a bed. The rich say motivation is the key. The poor reply is that I am working 16 hours per day. Halloween is coming. The hot weather will not stop it. MJ and I were in St. Louis Sunday and Monday. It was 100 degrees to 101. Not the feels like temperature but the actual temperatures. This is how we feel in the current political climate. The heat has been turned up too high. Most of us are moderates. Social Media portrays us all as anarchists.

We never had a lot by some standards. I loved my ‘Leave It To Beaver House ‘ in Sauk Village. I recall thinking that at least we had a nice house this time…I was four years old. I have no idea what other house I was referring to. My childhood was filled with nice and not-so-nice. I know what it is like to be hungry. Not hungry because I skipped breakfast, but hungry from not eating for days at a time. I reflect, perhaps this is why I collect. I don’t want to run out. My father-in-law, Berl, offered me something to eat as soon as I walked through his door. Berl lived through the Great Depression. He understood hunger.

None of us is going anywhere. We live on a beautiful blue orb. A bit like living in a fish bowl. Sunday, MJ and I enjoyed some fine dining. Restaurants that, as a child, I knew nothing of. The ethos of capitalism is that if you work hard and play by the rules, you will succeed. Not so fast. I have dear friends who worked hard all of their lives and have few earthly possessions. The form of the formula does not work for everyone.

So we sit with those who are richer than us and those who are poorer. We know the meek and those who are aggressive. Violence is never the answer. What about looking at both sides to find the good? We desire the middle ground of happiness and contentment. Over the top rhetoric in politics/religion does not portray the majority. Hope for the future encompasses us all. A future for our children and our planet. We come from the Earth and to the Earth we will return. Take care of the Earth. Our faith gives us strength. Other people’s faith gives them strength. Why does it have to be the same faith? Respect the differences that unite us in our many similarities.

Some of the kindest people I know are not Christian. If you believe in God, we come from the same God. His message is in harmony. His message is one of love and compassion. Shall we destroy a people and a nation because we have been persecuted? Does God choose one flesh over another by its color? Is Genocide fine as long as it is perpetrated against the people you do not deem as human? Shall we embrace evil that good may come?

Brooks Pond is a happy place. The Bullfrog Quartet is taking an afternoon nap. They know they must be prepared for tonight’s performance. Mr. Beaver does not take a day off. His Damn must be built by winter before the great freezing. The hummingbirds have not flown south. They enjoy listening to the Bullfrog Quartet and watching Mr. Beaver. They are different, yet they live in harmony…

The mid-90s is today’s forecast. Summer is hanging on for dear life. Fall is coming. Such is life. When things are uncomfortable, we know change is on the horizon. As the sweat drips off our brow, sweater weather is around the corner. Soon it will be time for the brown leather hat. These are the hopes of the Old Man. There is peace in purpose.

We think about the Secret on Sunday. What lies beyond the Veil? Folks who say they experienced death admonish that it is nothing to worry about. They say the experience of peace was unparalleled. Roger Ebert wrote a note to his wife the day before he died, saying that this life was an elaborate hoax. ‘When asked by his wife what the ‘hoax’ was, Ebert responded that he was referring to this world and this place, calling it an illusion.’

We live in a Story. We are key performers. At times, we know our lines, while at other times, we improvise. The angels are watching. Now and then, we see our Guardian Angel in the front row just behind the floodlights. Then our GA is standing behind our shoulder, whispering in our ear. Our angel says, ‘Look over there.’ We see something mysterious and magical. But just a glimpse. A glimpse is all we need to continue the journey.

We are emboldened. We saw a glimpse of the Secret. It was unlike anything tongues have said. It was hard to describe. Both ethereal and concrete. It was like the sound of rushing water and the sound of doves.

The Woods were full of people. My usual spot had many cars parked in the street. Kids playing and Grandmas talking over potato salad and fried chicken. Autumn is here, and it is time to get about the business of the Picnic and family reunion. Leaves are changing and falling dramatically. The drought has caused the early leaf change. The yellow flowers are still there, but looking a bit worse for wear. We are happy in the fall. Negative feelings are always knocking at the door. We choose to open the door and be positive seekers.

Unconsciously, we are processing. All that we encounter lodges in our brains. We compare past experiences with current encounters. Hurts stay with us. It has been said that we must forgive and forget. We can forgive easier than we forget. Optimism takes effort.

Good things are just around the corner. We have experienced those Corner Moments before. There are many times on this Holiday Train ride that we can not see what awaits us around the next corner. So we worry and get a sour stomach. There could be a Big Green Monster around the corner. Someday we will die, and perhaps the Grim Reaper is waiting with his scythe. Some of our preachers tell us that God has a select people or has chosen them. We did not get the sign-up form for the Chosen List. Are there hordes of the Chosen waiting around the next corner for our removal and their glory? We expect the End Of The World. If it happens, many of us will already be gone on to our reward. I heard a preacher proclaim that the Beast of Revelation was going to speak in 1975. 1975 was the year I graduated from high school. Did a short life await me? 50 years later, it appears I have dodged the Beast Bullet.

A Corner Moment for me was marrying my love, MJ. I did not see that coming until I rounded the Corner. Two Corner Moments were the births of Aaron and Jonathon. Another Corner Moment was being hired as a Building Service Worker I at Southern Illinois University and retiring as the department head.

The Holiday Train rounded a Corner a few years ago, whereupon the new normal equates Christianity with politics. What a rocky Train Track! Now it seems that dedicated Christians who espouse loving all of God’s creation have not read the signs. Today, it is too old-time religion to be poor and still believing that ‘Jesus loves the little children, all the little children of the world. Cash is king, and prejudice is governmental policy.

Holiday Train is chugging along toward the next Corner. What awaits us? Will it be acceptance and unity or division and strife? Will we look to the life of Jesus or the pronouncements of the 5%? Corners are change events. The Civil War was a corner, as was the Civil Rights Movement.

Cooler weather and cooler temperatures await us around the Corner. The Holiday Train is looking down the track to Thanksgiving and Christmas. Two Holidays to love those who have not been loved. We remember when we were lonely and shunned. We recall how good it felt when someone sat beside us at the lunch table and shared stories with us, and cold milk. The joy of pizza on Fridays. We see the kind smile and bright eyes. The stranger is looking for the compassion Christ spoke of. The mentally ill are seeking understanding, not judgment. A significant Corner in my life is when I began working at SIUC and discovered there are wonderful people of every color, religion, and lack thereof. Gay people are beautiful friends. The handicapped of our world have much to teach us about life… They taught me that I was the one who was handicapped, and they would love me and help me succeed.

Summer weather has returned. Hot but not humid. The lawn mower man ran over our dead grass. It did not take long. They focused on the weeds around the Brooks Pond. No matter the heat, it is fall. The baseball teams are seeking a berth in the championship. Contentment comes from a sense of place. The fighting words of Rabel Rousers do not sink in. It is calming to know who you are. A constant state of unrest is the state of some leaders.

‘Let’s watch them fight,’ the Leader says. Confusion diverts attention from what is important. When the Balm of Gilead is needed, vinegar mixed with wine is given. It is good to be alive. To know who you are without influence. The Pond is still. No ill winds blowing. Bullfrogs are resting for the nightly concert. We were in Maine two years ago. Tomorrow we will visit the Lighthouses on Open Lighthouse Day. One of the Lighthouses had a path of large stones leading to it. The Stones were separated by large cracks. MJ and I turned back after we saw the danger in the cracks. Old folks could easily break a leg or more. Aaron Jonathon, Marcy and Brock ventured forward, but it took them some time to reach the Lighthouse. Such is life. We walk on the smooth stones surrounded by cracks big enough to fall into and be lost. Big enough to throw a cat through. Or a small dog. Of course, we would do neither. The adventure was exhilarating. If you are a gazelle.

Our journey is on the Holiday Train. When we look out of the windows, there are majestic scenes. The sleeper cars are lovely, and the food is excellent. The Holiday Train runs across tressles. The drop off is frightening. I recall Dennis and me as boys smoking our Marlboro cigarettes along the train trestle in Eldorado and hearing a distant train whistle. We ran back to the tracks, surrounded by land that you would not have to drop fifty feet to reach. Then we finished our Marlboroughs. On our Holiday Train, there is an agreement that everyone is going to the same destination. First is the Halloween celebration. Ichabod Crane is seeking the Headless Horseman. We bob for apples. There is a hayride that takes up several train cars. We sit together around the autumn bonfire and tell tall tales and drink hot chocolate and eat s’mores. Fighting has no place on the Holiday Train. We are going home. We seek neither praise nor battle. We set out on our journey at birth. This phase will end in death. We know there is more. What we do not know is much greater than what we know.

We wait. We watch. We live this life God has given us. Divisions we feel we have created. They are man-made. Perhaps we place more value on rhetoric than on reality. The traveller, the stranger on the side of the road, did not care about the politics of the Good Samaritan. He saw the Pharisee and the Levite pass him by. He thought he would die. Kindness is kindness. Love is love. In our desperate hour of need, did the Helpers ask us about our political affiliation?

The Holiday Train rumbles down the track of life. Thanksgiving is coming. Why not break bread and pull the wishbone with those who have different political/religious views? None of us is a monster. We are God’s creation, illustrating the kaleidoscope that God is. We all seek to look behind the Veil. Preachers tell us that they have peeked. Their dogma does not prove the fact.

The last car of the Holiday Train has the wolf and the lamb lying down together. The Baby Jesus is in the Manger. His working-class mom and dad are beaming by his side. Jesus came to heal our divisions. He came to love everybody and teach us how to love as he loves. We climb out of the massive cracks that separate us and in which we have fallen. Republicans lend a hand to Democrats, and Democrats hug their Republican friends.

How could it be? 24 years since 9/11. The beginning of a tumultuous century. So many killed. Both Republicans and Democrats…Americans. I have dear friends who are Republicans. Violence is wrong. Murder is wrong. I am often mistaken and misinformed in my beliefs. We are all human. In World War II, we did not ask about the political persuasion of our soldiers who fought and died for us. The valiant women who filled our factories and kept our country together cared less about their status as conservative or liberal. When Pearl Harbor was attacked, soldiers of all political and religious persuasions died, and many lay under the Pacific Ocean entombed.

Unity made our nation great. Division is tearing it apart. Congress sang God Bless America on the steps of the Capitol the evening of 9/11, 24 years ago. Queen Elizabeth requested that the Band of the Coldstream Guards play the Star Spangled Banner outside Buckingham Palace on September 13, 2001. The United States was grieving, and the United Kingdom grieved with us.

We have raised political rhetoric to an art form. We seek the best zinger. We seek the soundbite. We covet the influence that words have over the human spirit. Many things are better left unsaid. It has been said that sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me. How untrue… many have died for their words…

The children cry out. I had no political affiliation. I had no opinion regarding liberal or conservative. I loved my friends; we played together and drank cold milk on break, and rode the merry-go-round together. In Sunday School, we sang Jesus Loves All The Little Children…aren’t we all God’s children?

There are many leaves changing colors and falling at this time of September. The Woods have thousands of brilliant yellow flowers. I do not remember so many this time last year. The Old Man ventured deep in the Woods this morning. The vines amazed him. I can see how people live in the Woods. You are in a separate environment.
The quiet and solitude suit an introvert. Most of our nation was covered by woods in days gone by. Trees have their own personality. They watch humans come and go, wondering what all of the fuss is about.

Soon, MJ and I will go to St. Louis for an overnight stay. St. Louis is our City. We make doctor visits pleasure trips. You do what is required in the golden years. St. Louis is a great city for the holidays. We have been visiting St. Louis since the kids were little, and even before that. They enjoyed seeing the Holiday Bears at Famous Barr during the Christmas season. The Bears were animatronic. I enjoyed them as much as Aaron and Jonathon. Famous and Barr had wonderful chocolate. During the years of its operation, it was my favorite store. In another life, I had purchased so many items from Famous that all the staff knew me by name and greeted me whenever they saw me. One Holiday Season, I made a solo journey to Famous Barr for a Christmas buying binge. With no one to stop me, I spent like a drunken sailor on shore leave. Needless to say, MJ and the boys were the beneficiaries, and I threatened to do it again each Christmastide.

There is electricity in the air. Anticipation is growing. My birthday is six weeks and two days away. I love achieving another birthday. I used to. think 40 was old. Now I know better. Born a week before Halloween. Perhaps my love of Edgar Allen Poe comes from this calendar event. We are excited about life. We are in the big game. Never stop living while you are alive. There is so much to do. There is so much to see.

‘There is an early showing of Frankenstein at the Orpheum Theatre,’ Billy B announced with a wide smile. ‘It will be part of the Town And Country Days celebration,’ Billy B continued. ‘Everyone is supposed to wear their Halloween costume,’ Billy B noted. ‘I am wearing cousin Gene’s Creature From The Black Lagoon Mask and the Creature Hands,’ Billy B said.

‘I will attend as the Lost In Space Robot,’ Chet said with a contented sigh. ‘I have his voice down,’ Chet assured. ‘I probably will win the costume prize,’ Chet laughed. ‘It is rumored that Boris Karloff will speak to the assembled group,’ Chet said.

‘I must say that the Frankenstein Movie is frightening,’ the dignified man said. ‘It is almost as if he will step out of the Movie Silver Screen and talk with the audience,’ DOM said. ‘Certainly this is an example of premier acting,’ DOM continued. ‘What polish and presentation, and he is even smoking a cigar,’ DOM noted.

‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I give you Frankenstein,’ Lou said as the lights lifted.

‘Thank you very much, I will be happy to answer any of your questions,’ Boris Karloff said as he walked from his seat next to Chet and Billy B to the front of the theatre. ‘I must admit that we need to be expeditious as my Bride is coming down the aisle and she tends to scream when she is startled,’ Boris K said with a laugh. ‘Also, she does not like for me to smoke cigars,’ Boris chuckled.