How have we arrived at the last month of fall? September seemed like summer, and October was an Autumn Delight. Such is life. We wonder how we got so old, and this is how it happened. As we lunched with Margo and Jeff on Tuesday, we insisted that they had stayed with us two years ago. Jeff recalled that it was three years ago. We had lost a year in the shuffle. Seasons are fleeting measurements of our life’s walk. We receive four per year, and a year flies by. Thanksgiving is in a week. It looked so far away in the heat of July. Then comes Christmas four weeks later.

The rain was cold this morning in the Woods. Battalions of leaves fell in the windy, wet. The deer were skittish as the hunting days begin tomorrow. ‘Don’t the humans know that we enjoy Thanksgiving too?’ Fredi asked his mom. ‘You have pumpkin pie in the oven, and it is Margo’s favorite. ‘It is nerve-racking hiding from the hunters just before we celebrate with family and friends around the Thanksgiving table,’ Fredi said. ‘Tom Turkey told me that he and Matilda were coming to Thanksgiving dinner if they did not get shot,’ Freddi said woefully.

‘I say that there must be a better way,’ Mr. Badger proclaimed. ‘Open Season on our lives as dwellers of the Wood just before we sit down to give thanks for our blessings,’ Mr. Badger noted. ‘Bambi was crying this morning when she saw the hunters getting out of their big truck with orange vests on,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘Jerry and Elaine Squirrel will not leave their tree home until it’s over,’ Mr. Badger disclosed. ‘As Clark Griswold noted in Christmas Vacation that Eddie eats Squirrels,’ Badger said. ‘Elaine said that she is rethinking Thanksgiving as it is not safe in the Wood any longer,’ Badger observed.

‘I do not see well, but I hear the report of the guns,’ Mr. Mole said. ‘When I am out of my Den, I can not determine where the shots are coming from, and I do not own an orange vest,’ Moley noted. ‘I get so scared that I lose my spectacles and can not find them in the fallen leaves,’ Moley said. ‘I am bringing roasted chestnuts to the Thanksgiving Dinner if I can find my glasses,’ Moley noted.

‘Welcome all and come right in, it is dry and warm in the shelter,’ the Preacher said. ‘Today is Thanksgiving, although we live in frightening times of war and strife, and we will eat a dinner of fellowship for all of God’s creatures,’ the Preacher continued. ‘Those who have plenty and safety, warmth and comfort will not understand the plight of we who know deprivation, want and fear,’ the Preacher noted. ‘We are the poor of the land, those who have hope beyond our circumstances,’ the Preacher proclaimed. ‘Today we will love each other and eat a good meal while we work to end the suffering of our friends,’ the Preacher said. ‘Fear and Peace walk the rocky road of life with each of us; we must decide to choose peace,’ the Preacher said softly.

So our dear friends from England visited us yesterday. They are getting younger, and I am getting older. We spent a week with them in Maine just over a year ago. We traveld in Europe several times and they are great hosts. They talked me into my one memorable massage in Tuscany. The massage consisted of accompanying my masseuse to the massage room, where she told me that she would leave the room and I would take off my dri-fit shorts and put on the paper bikini underwear that she had illustrated to me on how to wear. Then she entered and instructed me to sit in front of a full-length mirror in my paper bikini shorts and prepare to receive the oil anointing. I closed my eyes as instructed, and it seemed a full bottle of oil was applied to my head and subsequently ran down my back and chest and to my feet. My eyes remained shut for the duration of the massage, where, at its conclusion, my friendly masseuse asked me if I felt relaxed, and I lied. She then proceeded to wash my size 16 feet. When I inquired why she was washing my feet, she responded that they were so big they would not fit in the house shoes provided, and she did not want to have oily size 16 foot prints on the floor. She provided me with a large-sized robe that I woefully could not close.

Each time I tell Massage Story, Margo and Jeff laugh until they cry. I laugh too, but not until I cry.

We visited Thelma yesterday, who was like a second mother to me. I have been friends with Thelma, Margo, Jeff, and Brent for over 50 years. Thelma invited me to dine with her and her sons, Bart and Brent, on more than one occasion when it appeared that she had just enough for them. Yet she made a place of love for a hungry teenage lad. Thelma is legendary in my annals of Christian Life. She is a true follower of Christ. A hard worker and a no-nonsense person with a big heart. Thelma is rich in spirit and grace.

There was my lifelong friend Brent Margo’s brother. My buddy from many decades ago. I worked for Brent for a while, and he treated me like a king. He was teaching me how to install carpet when I got the call to go to work at Southern Illinois University. Brent is a captain among men and my friend.

There were Mellisa and Lilly. When I requested to be Mellisa’s Facebook friend, she asked me if I were family, as it appeared that I was Facebook friends with many members of her family. Her daughter Lilly is lovely and bright as the Star of Bethlehem.

Fredi came to the dinner and is another lifelong friend of MJ and me. Fredi is such a sweet person, and seeing her was a special experience. Fredi has cared for Thelma and been there for her on many occassions. She called MJ ‘Janer’, which is what she called her so many years ago.

The Old Man is blessed by sweet memories.

So here we are again. 2025 is in its waning days. Thanksgiving is a week from Thursday. The Christmas Tree goes up on Sunday. Hope rises in the hearts of the revelers. It is good to be in the land of the living. The mundane worries of life melt away when we see those who have significant challenges. I look around at my peer group who are 68, and I think how old they look until I look in the mirror. We live in our heads, so make the furniture comfortable. I started life with an unusual affinity for Christmas. My earliest memories of the Season are so sweet that Christmas is a lodestar for my life. Jennifer celebrated Aaron’s Birthday with us this weekend. Jennifer is a wise and kind person. I see myself in Jennifer’s history of faith and her work in the Church.

Christmas is a time to reassess. Why are we here, and where are we going. MJ and I watched a Netflix drama entitled The Beast In Me. The patriarch of a wealthy family told someone that we own nothing in this life; we are just renting our possessions. He went on to say that you realize this fact more when you become old. What a wise statement. Grasping and groveling for more earthly possessions is an exercise in futility. Do you have food, raiment, and a roof over your head…be grateful.

We are excited about our trip to see the Tennessee Brooks. It will be great fun! We have a train trip planned for January to New Orleans. This is exciting, as I find January a bit of a letdown after the Christmas Season. New Orleans may become our new Maine.

What a wonderful and terrifying, scary, exciting Train Trip life is! There is no roadmap or GPS. When I retired almost 15 years ago, I wondered if I would live a bit to enjoy the benefits. We have no crystal ball. We can not read the ending of our story as members of the human family on Earth. Sadness turns the corner into joy. Joy becomes a new challenge. Just when you think that you have it all taken care of, something new emerges. So it is time to.’ need a little Christmas just this very minute.’

MJ purchased a Nativity for one of my Christmas presents. Now we have several Nativities. I never have enough. The Gift of Christ’s Birth is unparalleled. We hold the Christmas candles high on Christmas Eve to signify our humble joy for the Gift. We are still here for another Christmas Eve! We still can unlock the Secret. No one can take our place. It has been reserved from the foundations of the world. We are sons and daughters of a magnificent plan. We perform on a Pristine Stage of Life. We want to play our part well. We have studied our lines and know when to enter stage left and deliver our part. The lights are going up and the curtain is rising. Time to follow the Star…

Aaron has a birthday. We watched Frankenstein yesterday, and both of us enjoyed it. We are pocket knife aficionados. We love a good pocket knife. Aaron is a well-read man. He is like the Old Man in our mutual enjoyment of Audible Books. He is trim and fit, which is more than I can say for me at his age.

Aaron is a man who possesses the gift of being able to accomplish anything he sets his mind to. He is a comfort to MJ and me. We both love what I call scary movies. If there is a good scary movie, I know who to call upon to view it with me. He is a leader. I marvel at his ability to motivate others. Aaron has a razor-sharp mind and a keen intellect.

One of his first words was ‘Di Da’ and then he would slap his bottom lip. Of course, this was a long time ago. I have not seen him slap his lower lip lately. I am drinking a Dragon’s Milk Beer this morning in honor of our times of fellowship over the marvellous elixir.

Aaron is an entrepreneur. He sees the opportunity where others may not. His sense of humor is refreshing. His love for family is unparalleled. Aaron is an example to me. He inspires me. I live vicariously through his good works and adventures.

44 years ago seems like yesterday to MJ and me. When I carried him with his little blue hat into our little house in Elkville, I knew we were beginning an adventure that would be mysterious and wonderful. The adventure continues.

MJ and I attended a retirement dinner for our Pastor, Rev. Kerry Bean. What a great guy! Kerry is unfailingly good-natured. He came to our church in 2019 and soon captured our imaginations with his wonderful humor. Kerry is an active listener. He sees you and hears you. This is a rare quality in preachers.

Kerry lives his faith, which speaks volumes. I have worked with pastors for over 50 years and have seen firsthand what challenges they face. I quickly discovered a tender heart in Pastor Kerry, letting me know our church would be fortunate to have him longer than a year or two.

Kerry is one of the most adaptable people I have seen in the clergy. He bound up the broken-hearted and preached peace to the captives. Or, simply, many were troubled and doubting their church and faith experiences. COVID-19 suprised the world in 2020 and changed our lives. Kerry exhibited creative thinking and led our little flock through what would have destroyed many congregations.

Pastor Kerry is a playwright. His productions are wonderful and have lifted and united many who needed both to occur. Kerry introduced his lovely family, and the smiles on their faces revealed how great a husband and father he must be.

So, we are the better for having been with Rev Bean for a season. We are stronger for the experience. Kerry is a servant leader, and there is no higher compliment.

Happy sails, Pastor Kerry, on the sea of life. Our boat is strong for your guidance.

It is a fantastic fall day. It dawned on me that Thanksgiving is getting close. I checked the calendar, and it is less than two weeks away. Time is flying.

‘This will be the best Thanksgiving ever,’ Tom Turkey said with a gleam in his eyes. ‘I have been gathering chestnuts and berries for appetizers, and mother is going to cook pumpkin pie,’ Tom continued. ‘Mom has been to the market in disguise with the kids,’ TT laughed. ‘You can not be too careful this time of year,’ Tom Turkey noted.

‘I love oyster dressing,’ Mr. Badger said with holiday aplomb. ‘Moley and I are so pleased to join you and your lovely family for Thanksgiving this year,’ Mr. Badger continued. ‘Mrs. Badger is making mincemeat pies and cooking a batch of divinity for the festivities, Mr. Badger said. ‘Moley has a new bib and tucker to wear to commemorate the great day,’ Badger proclaimed.

‘Indeed, we are having the best Thanksgiving ever,’ the Old Man announced. ‘Joining us today are my friends from Syria who are refugees,’ the Old Man informed. ‘As it was many years ago for the Pilgrims, this will be their first Thanksgiving,’ the Old Man smiled.

‘Where do you want me to place the Tofu Turkey?’ Moe asked as he danced around. ‘Curly almost ran us late, but I twisted his nose and then he hurried,’ Moe said. ‘We followed the Turkey family who are dressed as Pilgrims and Native Americans,’ Moe continued. ‘Tom Turkey is a riot of laughs,’ Moe said. ‘He asked us how many Turkeys it takes to screw in a light bulb,’ Moe laughed. ‘I told him one to hold the light bulb and two to turn the light bulb holder until the bulb is screwed in,’ Moe chuckled.

At times, the Christmas Spirit overwhelms the Old Man. Christmas classical music does it most days. The Old Man thinks back to Laughing Santa and the big Christmas Tree in Chicago. Neva J was smiling sweetly. She was dressed in 1960s holiday regalia. Neva J was a lovely lady. She wore slacks like Laura Petrie on the Dick Van Dyke television show. The Old Man saw similarities with his suburban life in Chicago. Rob was the head writer for the Allen Brady Show. He was good-humored and witty. Their lives were upper-middle-class and fun. They had a little boy named Richie. Sally and Buddy were Rob’s writing colleagues. Their writing vocation appealed to the Old Man as a lad of the 60s. Laura Petrie and Neva J looked alike to the Old Man.

The early 1960s were hopeful. Danny and Pauly lived down the street, and Steve and Susie lived up the street. Steve had marionettes. They fascinated the Old Man. The possibilities of Steve’s Marionette Show were endless. The Old Man had a crush on Susie. She hugged him every time she saw him. Susie was a bit older. Ivy was Neva J’s best friend. She smoked Camel Cigarettes one after the other. Ivy cussed like a sailor and loved Neva J. Her husband Bob was as quiet as Ivy was talkative. Ivy expounded on the state of the world and her admiration for President Kennedy. Her voice was deep and raspy and loving for her friends, including the Old Man. Ivy did not suffer fools gladly. She ruled the roost and loved her family.

Laughing Santa was a delight. He had a crank on his back when turned, which produced the most unique laugh. He was Christmas to the Old Man. Laughing Santa was an eternal optimist. His smile never wavered. He laughed uproariously at the problems of the moment. The Old Man wanted to be like Laughing Santa.

So it goes, one day Neva J and Ivy proposed that we make a trek into the heart of Chicago to see Lady And The Tramp at the theatre. The Old Man was excited. He had a bit of a crush on Lady as well as Susie. The Christmas Lights were brilliant. The Christmas hustle and bustle of the City was overwhelming. Susie was holding the Old Man’s hand as they navigated the jovial holiday shoppers and moviegoers. There Lady and Tramp were, along with Jock and Trusty. The world of Lady and Tramp and Neva J and Laurie Petrie meshed perfectly. The theatre was full of happy Christmas revelers. Susie held the Old Man’s hand and Lady in her home with the Darlings and the Siamese Cats were looking down from the silver screen. A perfect home life of domestic bliss and holiday hope.

Today is an extension of the hope of the Old Man’s youth. The nirvana of Christmas and the hope that it brings. When it comes to Christmas, we are all children at heart. We wonder what is in the brightly wrapped gift. Who is thinking of us at the time of the celebration of the Christ Child? Who will we hold the candle aloft beside as we sing Silent Night?

MJ told me she was going outside to see the Northern Lights last evening. I thought, what is the use, since the last time I heard they could be seen in our area, I saw nothing. Yet I followed her out and to my amazement, there the Northern Lights were in all of their majesty. It was indescribable. I later learned that we were experiencing a Solar Storm on a grand scale. People across the country were seeing the Holiday Light Show. Seeing the Northern Lights causes a sensation of the smallness of humanity and the grandeur of the Heavens. Jonathon won a coffee cup at Bingo that says, ‘I Am A Pretty Big Dill,’ with a drawing of a dill pickle on it. This is what we mortals think we are. We are part of something so much greater.

Christmas is coming. The great gift of Christ’s birth will be celebrated. The Magi saw the Star of Bethlehem in the sky. It announced the birth of Jesus. It is customary to travel long distances to see the Northern Lights. They are rare, and many live their lives without seeing them. Last night, they were on display for many to witness. Signs and wonders or natural phenomena. They are quite beautiful as we travel around the Sun in our galaxy.

Who can say what next year will bring? Clearly, hate will not move us forward. Paranoia will not calm our minds and settle our hearts. The little baby in the manger, surrounded by shepherds and animals, wise men, and hay, has answers to our anxiety. People say Christians must have strict standards to judge others by. Yes, we must love each other as Jesus loves all of the little children of the world. We must hate the abuse of children and the blindness to the hungry and needy of the Earth.

The Lights return tonight. A message is in their brilliance. Look up, America, and let the warmth embrace your cold hearts. A gift has been given. People will say it is simply a celestial natural occurrence. Of course, that logic applies to every manifestation of faith that Christians encounter. Who can say? Why does unseen faith guide our steps? A heavenly door may be open, shall we enter?

The cold wind whistled through the trees. Nature’s Clock was ticking. The leaves were unparalleled in majesty. The Old Man felt the cold for a bit and then became accustomed to it. He had been there before. So it goes with life. The older you are, the more you have seen. What seems concrete is made of clay that softens in the rain. Politicians are like a summer weed that shoots up toward heaven and soon dries and lies on the earth. Kings seek obedience and servitude, all the while they know not how long their reign will be. Leaders forget they work for the people. Not the lobbyists and special interest groups.

‘I have a mission to enjoy the remainder of the fall,’ Chet proclaimed. ‘It is my favorite season of the year,’ Chet continued. ‘My birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas rolled into one fantastic season,’ Chet danced on one foot and then the other. ‘There is joy in the Autumn Adventure,’ Chet sang to the top of his lungs. ‘It is between Halloween and Thanksgiving, which affords us an excellent opportunity to still invite Frankenstein and Wolfman to our Thanksgiving Dinner,’ Chet laughed a lusty laugh. ‘I have it on good authority that they have nowhere to eat Thanksgiving Dinner and that they would love to come to our celebration,’ Chet assured with a wink. ‘Frankenstein will bring his son and his blushing bride, while Wolfman will bring his new bride, who is a movie star,’ Chet said. ‘We will have a grand time in the Woods with Badger and Mole Toad and Rat,’ Chet announced.

‘I have never eaten such succulent Turkey,’ Frank N. Stein noted. ‘You know we feared no one was going to invite us to Thanksgiving Dinner but hoped that the new Frankenstein movie would help folks not forget us,’ Frank N. Stein said. ‘It portrays me a bit harshly, but I understand box office and all,’ Frank said softly. ‘My Bride and I are so pleased to have our son with us as he is home from SIUC,’ Frank said with a proud smile. ‘He is majoring in Biology and the study of creating life,’ Frank smiled. He wants to follow in the steps of his grandfather,’ Frank N. Stein laughed.

‘This is a great day for a Thanksgiving Dinner in the Woods,’ Wolf Man said. ‘My new bride, Meryl Streep, is honored to join us today, Wolf Man happily noted. ‘She and I have been in love for some time and now are free to display our romance to the world,’ Wolf noted. ‘Meryl has always gone for the bad boys,’ Wolfy said. ‘That is why she likes me,’ Wolfy laughed.

‘Today we celebrate life and allegiance and hope for the future,’ Mr. Badger proclaimed. ‘In a country celebrating division, suffering, and strife, we say No,’ Mr. Badger roared. ‘No, the faux Christian message and lauding of lawlessness,’ Mr. Badger continued. ‘No to marginalization of the voiceless and homeless,’ Mr. Bader noted. ‘Acceptance of the stranger in our land,’ Mr. Badger said with tears coursing down his cheeks.

It is cold in the neighborhood this morning. A chill factor of 12 degrees. We had our plants deadheaded just in time. What happens today is not something that happens every day. Things change. The cold of winter will yield to warmer temperatures later this week. The grey clouds will part to a sunny blue sky. What seems terrible and dire may turn into hope and dreams.

The Old Man was a poor boy from a poor family. Often sold short in terms of his abilities. Underserved and marginalized by the success of his peerage. Underestimated and assumed simple by vocation. After all, there were the movers and the shakers. The Hare danced and skipped around the Tortoise laughing and pointing. Perhaps the Old Man was lazy or slow of purpose, the crowd wondered. Regardless of the mean words or silly jokes, the Old Man smiled and returned good for evil. A churchwoman said that she had a dream where the Old Man was supervising many of his detractors in a business. The Old Man was a success and a catalyst in helping many forgotten people become successful.

The Tortises walked one deliberate step at a time. Their Guardian Angel could see the future. The race is not always to the swift and strong but to the determined.

The call goes forth, Come to me, you who are weak and heavily laden, and I will give you rest. Life is full of changes. Peace and love are always the answers. Perception is not reality. Reality resides in the heart of the misunderstood and marginalized.