So we begin again. The first Sunday of Advent. We sang Advent songs in service this morning. Peaceful and a sense of place. Order in the midst of chaos. Christ is coming. He who captures human hearts with ideas of love instead of power. The sanctuary was lovely with Christmas decorations. The lighting of the first Advent candle inspired. Faith is an easy cloak to wear for your life. It is there in the good times and the not-so-good.

Jennifer took an iconic photo of MJ and me walking toward the Flood Wall in Paducah. It illustrates our love for each other for nearly 50 years. We are side by side for life.

Days of celebration are upon us. Days of grace and song. Lifting a glass of mead with friends. Laughing at the minor mistakes of the year and joy in the continued journey. The time for gift-giving is here. Santa, Mrs. Claus, the elves, and Rudolph with his red nose. A time for bright thoughts as the days shorten. There are White Elephant Christmas gifts for fun and holiday revelry.

I watched the Holiday Train at the Kentucky Oaks Mall and the speed with which the driver took the hairpin corners. She was fearless. The kids and kids at heart laughed with delight. So it goes with our human family. The driver is lively and quick, and we hold on for dear life. He is on a mission from God. God does not fool around. Everyone must get on board for the train trip of hills and valleys and sharp curves. Sometimes we laugh, and other times we cry. We know our destination and trust the Engineer to get us there safely. Once in a while, he seems preoccupied. Is he watching the football game? Does he have money on the game? Then the truth comes into view. A Veil is ahead that we want to see behind. We want to know the Secret. What waits beyond the Veil? Will there still be Holiday Trains? Certainly, there will not be a Hive Mentality. Each of us is unique. We listen to our own drummer. Heaven, God, and Christ are a bit different in all our eyes. Are we as special as the one who created us? The patriarchs of the Bible thought for themselves. They were people of strong opinions and strong will. Their individual charisma drew people to the story of the Baby in the Manger. It was thinking outside the box of the religion of Jesus’ time. There was no one-size-fits-all.

Thanksgiving is love. Ira Kaye Ron Jennifer Annelise and Lee joined us for Thanksgiving Dinner. It was a beautiful experience. Life-affirming and sweet. Friday, we journeyed to Paducah, Kentucky, for some Black Friday Fun. We stopped by the Cigar Bar as we did during our last Black Friday trip. Jennifer, Jonathon, and Aaron enjoy the game at the Bar. They play a tournament. The Old Man smokes a fine cigar. Aaron and Jonathon each purchased a cigar for the pater familias. They know what I like. I am reminded of ornate cigar bars of days of old. A lovely setting to reflect.

Our time on Earth is precious and brief. Each moment is to be savoured like fine wine. No two moments are the same. They are as unique as snowflakes. We are painting the fine art of our lives. Each brush stroke is important.

The Thanksgiving meal is a vehicle for our memories and plans. I read of Joan Didion and her elaborate discovered plans for Thanksgiving Dinner at her home. Joan had an eclectic mix of people, from authors to artists. She was a master chronicler of her time. Each of her Thanksgiving plans. When the Dinner took place, Joan Didion was a relaxed and gracious host. She made me think of MJ and her love for Thanksgiving.

We lost a friend who was a profound light. When I saw her, I saw light. She was angelic.

So we continue to move. Movement is life. We are a part of the never-ending story. At times, we are aware of our role. Worry and care cloud our purpose now and then. If we could stand back and see the entire work of art we are a participant in, we would understand.

Jennifer is a wise, kind, brilliant person. A joy to be around. She has taken iconic photos of MJ and me walking to the car after the Black Friday Festivities. Lee and Annelise are a delight and a blessing.

Life is sweet. We must keep moving. Movement is life.

A cold wind blew across the Woods. The leaves have mostly yielded to the autumn rains. They are diverse colors on the good Earth. The sky was a brilliant blue with white clouds peeking out from the bare limbs as they reached toward heaven. The clouds said, ‘Wait and see what is coming next.

The Old Man watched from his Woods Walk. Tomorrow would be a good day. Good days are valued. We write about the good days. Days when our hope and heart are in sync. Days of promise and plan. Days the Bard wrote plays about. The Sun is in the sky, and the Earth is firm under our feet. Days of vision and certainty. We know where we are going and how to get there. We are like the Blues Brothers on a mission from God.

Other days are uncertain. The blue sky is covered with a thick blackness. The compass does not function. We were in our Salad Days; now there is wilted spinach. We feel fortunate if we lose a little. Sometimes we lose a lot. We rode the Carousel of Life and pulled the brass ring off with zeal and gusto. Now we can’t reach the ring and focus on hanging on the grinning horse’s neck.

Thanksgiving is here. We are here. Let us celebrate. No more separation of people. We travel the same path home. We all love our children. Their success is our second life, another brass ring in the Golden Years. When they smile, we laugh just as we did when we first met them.

So there are unbreakable bonds. We instincivily feel this permanence. Faces change around the Thanksgiving Table, but the love remains. Tomorrow, look closely at the empty chair and see your loved one never left.

The holiday season is here! I love Thanksgiving and I love the month of Christmas! The decorations are already out and up in my home. Presents are …

Golden Holidays

Today is a great day! There are days when loads get lifted. Days when our joy is complete. Days when we remember why we are here. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.’ Christmas miracles are for each of us if we will receive them. The Gift Of The Magi is in all of our lives when we look for it.

‘Neva J, you are a good friend,’ Rosie said. ‘After my husband died, I became reculsive and morose,’ Rosie continued. ‘I comforted myself by listening to phonograph records of JFK’s speeches when he was alive and his picture on my wall,’ Rosie noted. ‘His comforting New England accent seemed to be speaking to me as a member of my family,’ Rosie mused. ‘I took to talking to myself a little; there was no one else to talk with,’ Rosie explained. President Kennedy’s voice made me feel that someone was with me, I was not alone,’ Rosie said with a tear in her eye. ‘You came along with your kindness and not being ashamed of me,’ Rosie said. ‘You made me part of your family when others shunned me or when they saw me walking down the sidewalks of Eldorado, crossed to the other side of the street,’ Rosie noted. ‘I had value in your eyes,’ Rosie said softly.

‘They called me ‘One Eye,’ Abigail said. ‘My husband and I were a well-known Vaudeville Act and traveled across the country,’ Abagail said. ‘Many people wanted my autograph, and we stayed in the finest hotels in New York City,’ Abigail said. ‘We had a car wreck that took my husband’s life and my right eye,’ Abagail said in a whisper. ‘I moved to Eldorado with no money and no ability to perform,’ Abagail said. ‘People laughed at me, and kids called out, ‘Old One Eye eats little children.’ I stayed in my little hovel with my cat. You saw me under the ragged clothes and terrible name,’ Abagail said. ‘You invited me to Christmas Dinner with Rosie and your family, and I felt after such a long time to be part of a family again,’ Abagail cried.

‘Cats accepted me while people did not,’ Mrs. W said. ‘People called me the Cat Lady,’ Mrs. W noted. ‘I watched the world through my windows and rarely ventured out,’ Mrs. W explained. ‘Some even whispered that I was a witch and cast spells on people,’ Mrs. W said in a trembling voice. ‘I have a mental illness that I take medication for, but I love people and have never hurt any living creature,’ Mrs. W. said. ‘Anyone different is ridiculed, maligned, and marginalized,’ Mrs. W noted. ‘I was a professor at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale until my illness became difficult to manage,’ Mrs. W. said. ‘I counseled many students and have served on Ph.D. committees,’ Mrs. W noted. Neva J loved me with my cats and my mental illness, and I am at her family Christmas Table today with love in my heart for her,’ Doctor W. said.

‘I was not born unusually talented, I do have the gift of love for those less fortunate,’ Neva J said. ‘Each of you has shared your gifts with me, and for that I am grateful,’ Neva J continued. ‘I have given you pocket watch fobs for your waistcoats while you have given me combs for my long black hair,’ Neva J smiled. ‘I sold my hair to purchase the Fobs, and you sold your pocket watches to buy me the lovely Combs. This is truly a brilliant Christmas,’ Neva J announced…

The grocery stores were full of happy people. They were preparing for the feast. I recall buying a turkey each year before Thanksgiving to donate to our Office Christmas Dinner, attended by over 200 people. Gerald Davis, a foreman in our group, began hosting dinner for his staff in the 1980s, and it evolved into a department-wide event. Our student staff loved the fellowship and good food. Many of our international students had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, and the Building Services Thanksgiving Dinner provided a place of love and goodwill.

I visited four stores this morning, and more to come before Thanksgiving, the big day. There is a comfort in familiar events. A sense of place in tradition. Holidays hold us together. They let us know we are still in the game. As we age, the Game of Life becomes increasingly important to us. It was easy to blow past the Holidays when we were so young and full of ourselves. There was always next year. There were places to go, people to see, and things to do. Tomorrow is another day Scarlett O’Hara said. We were building for the future, and then the future arrived while we were sleeping.

This is the Thanksgiving Starting Line of the 2025 Holiday Season. There is fun to be had, including Black Friday Adventures. A trip to Grand Rivers, Kentucky, to see the Tennessee Brooks. The Phantom Of The Opera in St. Louis and the Christmas Eve service. Soon, Advent will be here, and MJ already has the Advent Calendar full of sweet treats.

We are aboard the Holiday Train, and it is chugging out of the station. The Holiday Train is for the poor and rich alike. It has room for all people. The magic thread knits us together into a complex, majestic quilt of many colors, providing warmth against the winter.

The Woods are lovely dark and deep, and we have miles to go before I sleep,’ Robert Frost told us…that is, unless you are a deer. Today, as Mama Deer was cooking the pumpkin pie, she was wearing an orange vest. Dad Deer hid his antlers under festive Christmas lights. Bambi and Little Buck were relegated to the Den until the guns stopped sounding.

‘Mama, why do those people choose to live in tents outside in the cold?’ Little Buck asked. ‘They have no visible fur to warm them against the falling temperatures,’ Little Buck continued. ‘I see them pushing grocery carts full of sundry items,’ Little Buck said. ‘It seems that the items in the cart are all that they have,’ Little Buck noted. ‘Do they wear orange vests and caps during hunting season?’ Little Buck asked. As near as I can determine, they have no protection from freezing and starvation,’ Little Buck observed. ‘I wish we could buy them some orange vests to distinguish them from the poor, diverse people that are hunted by the government,’ Little Buck said.

‘Holidays are joyful, there’s always something new…every day is a holiday when I am with you,’ Karen Carpenter sang so beautifully. We gather in our favourite Fishbowl. We see the same faces and know all of the names of the attendees. We do not like surprises and have ensured that we will not encounter any. ‘The Others must have trained professionals caring for them. There are government services for them. Some social workers understand their needs. Most of them do not wear orange vests or caps to distinguish themselves from the destruction. ‘Are there no prisons?’ asked Scrooge. ‘And the union workhouses?’ Are they still in operation? ‘The treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?’ said Scrooge.

Today we trimmed the tree. It was a grand occasion with holiday beer and goodwill for all. Aaron helped us, and I explained the Victorian Christmas Ornaments from the First Christmas. I noted that they came from Walmart, as well as our first Christmas Tree. I considered our Christmas theme to be a Victorian Christmas. Aaron liked the blinking lights.

As the years have gone by, our Christmas Decorations have grown. I added another Nativity this season. Fontanini are the maker of the beautifully hand-painted figures. I remember Fontanini from my childhood. The longer I gaze at the figures of the three wisemen and the holy family, the more I see. What majesty and mystery the Holy Family and the three wisemen portray. What lessons do they have to tell us?

The Blo-mold Sants came out from their hiding place to stand guard by the front door and under the Christmas Tree. These Blo-mould creations were all over Eldorado when I was a lad.. Each decoration has a story. The Story of our Lives. Some have told me that they care little for tchotchkes or artistic remembrances. I value them as they chronicle my time on Earth.

‘So do you think you will get the Big Swinger Polaroid Camera for Christmas this year?’ Chet asked Billy B.? ‘I know you have a passion for Photography and you will put it to good use,’ Chet said. ‘I bet when you retire, you will take pictures every day.’Chet said with a sly smile and a wink.

‘Yes, I hope to receive a Big Sminger, but I still hold out hope for a Daniel Boone Action figure, although Neva J tells me I am too old for it…how are you first too young and then too old and never receive the gift?’ Billy B asked. ‘I hope to get a Big Swinger while Polaroid is still producing them,’ Billy B sighed.

‘What about a three-speed bicycle to ride to the location that you will snap your Polaroid Photos,’ Neva J asked. ‘You know, when I listen to Perry Como and Bing Crosby sing about Christmas on the Phonograph, I get the Christmas spirit,’ Neva J laughed.

Santa has been seen around the corner. Someone saw him in the shoe store trying on boots. Santa saw little Eddie padding his Christmas list. Santa appears to be everywhere at once as Christmas approaches. He knows who is naughty and nice, we have been told.

We need a little Christmas right this very minute. At times, Christmas signals the prosperity and hope of the year going out the door and the brilliance of the year coming in. Other times, Christmas is surrounded by sorrow and suffering, and it gives us a chance to catch our breath. Santa looks a bit different each Christmas. Bringing succor for the troubled and a chance to think about something different.

The greatest joy is not shared by all. Life brings us terrible curves and deep valleys. As we sit in the Christmas Eve Church Service, the person on your right may be suffering, and the person on the left has experienced terrible loss.

Many experience loss that they will never recover from. The only thing to do is to be a friend and sit with them, and listen.