So, we are getting closer to our next journey to New Orleans. It has taken a special place in the Old Man’s heart. It made January special. From the chilly air, walking to the train, to the nap in the car as we clickety-clacked down the track. joy after the Holiday Season. Christmas in January. The Hotel Monteleone was better than we had even expected.

There is a magical Spirit in the French Quarter. People living life for the sheer joy of it! People who have gotten the message. As the Jamaican man told me in Philadelphia, ‘What you cryin about Mon.’ When you are in the French Quarter, you do not feel like crying.

There is music on every corner. Musicians playing from their hearts. Music from the heart touches hearts. Laughter was consuming. Self-awareness was minimal.

‘Are you guys ready to explore the French Quarter?’ Jane asked with a chuckle. ‘I looked out my window and saw a brass band marching down the street,’ Jane noted with a wink. ‘Each person I meet is genuine,’ Jane observed. ‘I am accustomed to artifice and disguise,’ Jane continued. ‘How much happier we would be just being ourselves,’ Jane observed. ‘The Hotel Monteleone is noted as a Writer’s Haven, and I can see why, as the ambiance is perfect for writing,’ Jane said, smiling as she took out her pen for a reminder.

‘We spend our days worrying about work, our careers…how our productivity enhances our sense of self,’ Chet said. ‘Did God create us to work for more money 24/7?’ Chet asked. ‘What about food for our spirit, our souls’ growth…the examination of questions beyond the temporal,’ Chet continued. ‘The Singer sang from her soul,’ Chet said softly. ‘She sang from hardship, pain, suffering,’ Chet noted. ‘The words had power beyond the written page,’ Chet said.

‘Look, there is a dancer in the middle of the lane…he is dancing as if no one is watching,’ Billy B said. ‘The dancer has complete freedom of self…he marches to the tune of a different drummer,’ Billy B laughed with joy. ‘The Bartender at the Carousle Bar in the Hotel Monetleone told us that we were good people,’ Billy B said. ‘He said that he sees a lot of people and he knows,’ Billy B continued. ‘The Carousel Bar circles slowly to afford the people sitting there a panoramic view of the lovely surroundings,’ Billy B circled as he spoke. ‘I reflected on life on Earth…we circle each day and never stop to see what we are passing,’ Billy B laughed heartily.

56 degrees. Time to break out the coat. Time to think warm thoughts. Time waits for no one. The Writing Porch is reminiscent of fall. I may start writing about Christmas. Stranger things have happened.

Transition is coming. We think everything stays the same, but it does not. As we change daily, so does our environment. As it has been said, a rut is a grave with both ends removed. A New Day is coming. Indeed, this is true each day. Change is watching us. Mr. Change does not reveal himself before it is time. He waits patiently for the right moment. Those who speak the loudest have few answers to life’s persistent questions.

We build the torn-down places of our lives. We rebuild with purpose. Much of life is rebuilding the good structures. We used to play Jenga, where the object was to see how high you could build a tower out of slim wooden blocks. Now and then, you took a block out of the middle of the structure. Sometimes it fell. Much the same happens with our construction endeavours.

‘Let Joe do it,’ Mr. Critic said. ‘He is in on the know and the one they always call on,’ Mr. Critic continued. ‘Joe is a cornerstone in the Church…nothing gets done without his approval,’ Mr. Critic laughed.

‘Lord, make me an instrument of Change for the better lives of your creation,’ Joe prayed.

‘There are not the number of my supporters that there usually are,’ the President said. ‘I dance for them regularly, but they do not respond like they did at one time, the President continued. ‘I try new avenues daily, but the Democrats and my enemies are always in the middle of the road of success,’ P said. ‘Before I was the Change that they long for, but now they seek another Messiah,’ P grimaced.

So it is Friday night. The weekend is here. We know now is the time for fun. Trivia and trifles. Maybe some truffles. We have laid our burdens down. Monday will come again. We are Weekend People. Time for Game Day. Time to make ammends. Time to make friends of our enemies and make our friends love us. A little prestidigitation…a little alchemy.

Songs lift the spirit. There is magic in the air. Who can make a silk purse from a sow’s ear? Have we discovered how to make diamonds from coal? Hearts are easier to deal with. A stony heart can return to a heart of flesh. We look around and see that we are still here. Where there is life, there is hope.

‘Please keep your eyes glued on the top hat that I am waving my magic wand over,’ Chet intoned. ‘Tonight you will see a piece of magic that will either excite you or frighten you,’ Chet continued. ‘This is only designed to be seen once,’ Chet continued. ‘What you are about to partake in is life-changing…you will not leave this venue as you came,’ Chet promised. ‘You came in burdened by the load of life you carry,’ Chet said. ‘You will leave by another way,’ Chet smiled. ‘Do not take your eyes off the Hat,’ Chet emphasized.

‘Where are we?’ Jane asked. ‘I passed myself on the way to the concert…the girl looked just like me except different,’ Jane continued. ‘The clouds are multicolored,’ Jane observed. ‘A lamb has been nuzzling my leg and smiling at me,’ Jane observed. ‘Everyone seems happy… anxiety-free…there is a spiritual feeling in the air,’ Jane whispered. ‘Mom and Dad are in the audience…they have been dead for many years,’ Jane said. ‘I hear the sound of many waters flowing and the sound of doves,’ Jane said softly.

‘Look in the distance…the fighting has ended,’ Billy B noted. ‘Children are reading in the town square,’ Billy B continued. ‘The President is talking about all of us joining meetings around round tables to talk about what we want our country to be,’ Billy B said. ‘There is a giant Top Hat on the horizon,’ Billy B exclaimed…

The weather is a bit fall-like. It is. Mayday. A day that was a pretty big deal when I was a lad. We danced around the Maypole. You do not hear much about the Maypole these days. A third of 2026 is gone. The next third will go quicker. We are a part of the Earth. Spirits housed in Earthen Jars. Some think that their Earthen Jar is better than the rest. They are the same. When the rich and the poor talk together, many of their concerns are similar. False walls are constructed between people. Politicians do this for their own agendas. We are temporary in this life. Grandma A said if you live to be 100, your life will be short.

We are code speakers. A wink, a special handshake… an understanding that not all are in the Club. The academic elite have their own code. They listen to the great unwashed in a benevolent manner. There are ‘Professor Types,’ and then those who are ‘Blue Collar.’ Blue Collar are manual laborers, while academics do the profound thinking. The Blue Collar folks may be genius…wise…idea people…yet are rarely heard in the academic circles.

Then, there are angels in Earthen Pottery. People who transcend the Clubs and code. Earth Angels who see the Angel in each person they encounter. We live in the Potter’s Field so often. We scrape ourselves with potsherds and eye the success of our neighbor with a yellow eye. We are fashioned by the Master Potter. Our value is invaluable. Mindset can be changed. Living in fear can be altered. If we could see the great throng of witnesses surrounding us…We would take courage.

‘I remember what it was like to have nothing,
Billy B said. Neva J and I stood in Commodity lines to receive government cheese, dry milk, and potted meat,’ Billy B continued. ‘The workers threw the items onto the ground, and we scurried to pick the food up, Billy B remembered. ‘No one was our advocate…we did not know powerful people…we had no voice,’ Billy B said softly. ‘My shoes were made out of plastic, and my clothes were purchased at P.N. Hirsch, which was a bit of an upgrade from the Brokerage Store,’ Billy B laughed. ‘I wondered why some folks spoke to me condescendingly and with no empathy,’ Billy B noted. ‘The Principal’s secretary told the Principal that I did not know how to use a telephone…we did not have a telephone,’ Billy B smiled. ‘Through all of this odd treatment, I did not hate; I felt sorry for the people who seemed to feel that there was more than one category of kids,’ Billy B explained.

‘We need renewal of our vision,’ Chet observed. ‘Divisive words tear us apart…we need a Preacher,’ Chet proclaimed. ‘Not a Preacher who expounds on Prosperity and how to achieve it as a follower of Christ…one who speaks on Community,’ Chet observed. ‘A Preacher who sees an angel in each of our Earthen Pottery Vessels…not just the special people,’ Chet said quietly.

I believe I was born with a big heart. From a very young age being nice instead of mean was important to me. I was a shy kid. I can be a shy or …

Wholehearted