A day like fine art. I saw some lovely yellow flowers in the Woods. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. The Woods were quiet after Labor Day. A cool breeze was blowing. Mr. Woodpecker was working. The bees were busy. They had to visit each yellow flower. They sang, ‘Bzz Bzz Bzz’. Some welcome rain fell overnight. The sound of it falling was a bit unfamiliar.

Have you ever been approached by someone trying to sell you shares in the good life? If you do what they tell you, success will happen for you. They have the secret to success for a down payment of a few hundred dollars and the rest on installments. Much of what they say is common sense. Common Sense used to be free. Often, the purveyors of possibilities become richer from their knowledge of success while you become poorer, making them richer.

Mom and Dad, as well as Grandma and Grandpa, worked a lifetime living frugally to build a life. Warren Buffett buys an egg Biscuit and a cup of coffee for his breakfast each morning when his stocks are doing well, and on those mornings when they are not, he just buys the coffee.

For most of my career, I did not buy lunch. To save temptation, I did not carry money. Most of our resources went to our family and their welfare. We did not go hungry, but we did not often spend money frivolously. I am a coffee aficionado and carried a thermos with me to work, including most of my years in management. We took vacations, but we had a budget. Life is fun on the frugal side once you get used to it.

It is nice to have money for something you need or, at times, want. The Black Hole of family finance is debt. It is advisable to not go into debt for anything other than an automobile and a house. Most other things can wait until you have the cash. When you wait, you have time to reassess the real need for the bauble or trinket that was so compelling. One of the largest contributors to a family estate is setting aside enough money to invest. You have heard it said Let your money work for you. You have a limited number of years that you will be a wage earner. Pay yourself first. Not the Preacher, not the speed boat, or the waterski.

Nothing happens if you do not stay on track like the Happy Locomotive. Do not stray to the Hills of Prosperity or the Valley of Vice. You may not have the newest car, but it is fun to know you can get it if you want to.

After I purchased my first new car in 1978, my pastor told me that I should trade every two years. This had been a common theme in former generations. When I went to trade cars, I quickly learned that my current car was not paid off and that the difference would be added to my new car payment. Not a prescription for success. MJ and I typically drive our automobiles for ten years or more. New cars are fun, but so is financial security.

Get-rich-quick schemes are rampant in our society. Go to the head of the class in one chess move. Have what mom and dad worked a lifetime for in a fraction of the time.

Evening writing is good. The sun is sinking, and our hopes are rising. The air is fresh. Breathe deeply, our soul says. You are here. You are present. You are special.

The pumpkins grow in the Patch. Many are rotund. They have a sense of place. They have purpose. The white cat looks languidly about. He is a cool cat. When he is happy, he does not show it. He does not want to be thought of as a pushover.

Mylo and Mommie are doing the ‘Whee’s’; they do them nightly and some during the day. Mommie lifts Mylo off her lap and cries, ‘Whee,’ and gingerly places him down. Mylo has a look of surprise, pleasure, and endurance in the face of ritual. Mylo is somewhat like us. He knows the rhythms of the day. He knows what is expected. It is all in the family.

Last month, the sun shone brightly at 7:00 P.M. Now the evening shadows fall. Mr. Woodpecker was busy at his job in the Woods this morning. Tappity Tap Tap rang out. Mr. Woodpecker is singular in his purpose. Nothing stops his daily routine. He dances to the sound of his own Tap Tap Tap.

Harvest time approaches. It is dry and dusty. The corn does not look good. No rain for over a month. The Bullfrogs are tuning their instruments. They are in excellent voice in the fall. Many listen to their song.

The clock is ticking a bit slower in September. The days of wine and roses. Days of meditation. Days of hope. Days of prayer for good things. A time to gather limbs for bonfires. Chili will soon be the order of the day. Homemade vegetable soup and baked bread with a thick crust. Learning for learning’s sake. Understanding the world and our place in it. Soon there will be candles in the windows. A light in the darkness for our lost loved one. He will see the light and come home.

It is Wednesday, and it seems like Tuesday. Labor Day squeezed in. We miss beauty when it is small. Big captures our attention. The sequoias are awe-inspiring. The Grand Canyon is majestic. In our society, cash is king. We labor in the trenches with the hope that one day we will be the king. In reality, we are laboring so that the king will have a new robe. Boards of corporations and Universities seek the well-to-do to take a seat among the elite. Money and fame are equated with wisdom and understanding. Those who are satisfied with what we have are considered unmotivated. Our colleagues ask us what we do with our days. They have a get-rich-quick scheme tailored for our needs. We are clothed and comfortable and often in our right mind, yet somehow diminished due to a lack of motivation to acquire more. Of late, our government has entered the business of owning parts of private businesses. This is from the political party that swears against socialism. Who shall the government give the next contract to: the independents or the business that they own part of?

The Old Man saw a little hummingbird lying on the sidewalk, dead. The Old Man studied the little creature for a moment, as it is hard to see them well when their rapid wings are moving. The little hummingbird is a marvel of God’s creation. A beautiful creature. A bird with a mission of drinking the sweet nectar of life. He gathers no coin. Little Hummingbird is happy to be in the game. Few have his long beak. His rapidity of winged flight is unparalleled. I think he must have hit the grocery store window. No doubt he was looking inside for some sugar water.

The days grow short when you reach September. So it goes with our lives. We spend years chasing the capitalist dream we inherited. Paula Abdul told us, ‘Two steps forward, one step back.’ We working folks see the summit and marshal the strength to apply our climbing pick ax and get another foothold, only to slip and swing by our safety rope. Many of us do not have a safety rope. Churches took to preaching the Prosperity Doctrine many years ago. Jesus wants you to be rich, the preacher told us. As we worked towards the goal of Christians getting a free pass to economic glory, we noticed that the Preacher was rich, but many in the congregation were poorer than ever. What about the poor Christians, we ask? Did they not get the memo? Did Christ have servants? Did he say render unto Cesar the things that are Caesar’s and put an extra coin in the hand of the tax collector to obtain a better seat at the table?

Have you looked at the butterflies? They are lovely in their handiwork. It has been said that the poorest hard-working people leave the best tips at restaurants. Those who labor know what a tip can mean to the ability of their server to pay their bills for the month. The Little Hummingbird is settled next to the homeless children outside the restaurant. He watches as they look forlorn and seek a few pennies to buy something to eat. He wishes he could bring them some sugar water…

Today is the first day of the rest of 2025. We enjoyed a grilled pork chop lunch yesterday. Aaron is a grillmaster. Jennifer Annelise and Lee joined us for the Labor Day Feast. Jenniffer is a sweet girl, and her kids are the kind of people I enjoy being around as well. Their lovely personalities are engaging. After dinner, we played cards, and the Old Man won. So it was a red-letter day. We saw a Great White Heron and a turtle. Mr. Beaver was busily building his dam. He did not get the memo regarding taking off for Labor Day. The State Fair has come and gone. Jennifer brought MJ some Taffy. We like State Fair Taffy. Today is the beginning of meteorological fall. There is a nice cloud cover and a cool breeze. It is dry in Little Egypt. The ground is cracked open, and the grass is dying. If the forecast is correct, there will not be many more mowings left. I told Cody in the spring that, although we were experiencing a deluge of rain, we would probably face a drought before the season was over.

Fall whisks by like a weaver’s shuttle. Favorite seasons always pass rapidly. I rejoiced in my friend’s brilliant smiling face this weekend. We have been friends for a long time. Now we look to maximizing our kindness and minimizing our worries and frustrations. I discovered that as a child, I could choose to trumpet my hardships or focus on the good all around me. Usually, I select the good. I wonder if one of the keys to life is a positive attitude.

There is joy in the journey. Soon Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolf Man will make their appearance. These old-time Halloween creatures captivated my attention as a child. The overcoming of Dracula by the cross inspired me. Evil can be overcome by good. I watched Ari Melber on a Labor Day special news show last evening. When a guest recommended the new movie “Weapons” for his viewing, Ari said that he walked out of the showing because it was too frightening. I took away from the movie that it involved the weaponization of children, which is scary.

The race for the Pennant and the World Series is afoot. Cubs fans never say die and never lose hope. We believe that our time will come again. A long life teaches that whatever shape we find ourselves in, things change. Paul said that he learned that whatever condition he found himself in, he had learned to be content. This is my compass. I often told my love, MJ, that we should enjoy each year as it might be our last. We are closing in on 48 years. Some days we were down, and many we were up. What appeared life-changing became foggy in the memories of the past. Time may not heal all wounds, but it is a strong bandage.

My favorite martini glass, featuring a skull on the stem, has a hairline crack. Sunday afternoon is for Dirty Martinis. So it goes with us. We have hairline cracks. It comes with the territory. Our hairline cracks make us unique. Often, we work like machines, but we are not. We absorb everything. We react internally and externally to our environment. August is making its curtain call. Tomorrow, the pools and lakes will close for swimming. Our attention will change as the leaves change.

The weather will be getting cooler. Sweaters and jackets are enjoyable. Cool weather quickens the steps. Fall knits the blanket of trust. It will warm us around the bonfires. As the flames dance, we will unite our hearts in our shared journey. We will share stories of trials and travails, victories, and love conquering all.

The Beaming Faces of my dear friends warmed my heart. Knowing what they have been through, I took comfort in God’s goodness. Fall is coming, and time to plan for the future. We see the days shorten. The evening shadows fall. We head home for suppertime. The horses are stabled. The fire in the fireplace is crackling. Mom and Dad greet us and say how good it is to see us. Our favorite food is laid upon the table. Greg is laughing and playing with the dog. Nothing will hurt us tonight…

Summer is taking its last bow. The State Fair began last weekend and is now in its closing days. The grocery store was full of people. They know it is the last holiday of summer. Worry and care will ride in the back seat of the ’57 Chevy ragtop. One more trip to Pounds Hollow. There will be plenty of Oscar Mayer Weiners — the kind kids love to eat. The lake water will be cooler. It has been cooler. If the Sun is hiding, it is chilly when you exit the lake. Could it be that we will welcome sweaters and jackets in a month or so? Fall will be here. We have experienced Autumn before, but no two are the same. Fall calls out its song. Think deeply. Consider what has been and what is to be.

Lee is bringing his fishing pole. There will be pork chops from the Webber. Can you say Loaded Potato Salad? The ultra-rich fear Armageddon. They are purchasing former nuclear missile silos to hide in. They are moving to New Zealand to enjoy the benefits of the tyranny of distance from the United States. Those who seem to back the political policies of the current administration fear their Orwellian Outcome. The blessing of some land and the solitude of a sense of place are compelling. The Great Blue Heron enjoys the Brooks Pond. He fishes daily. When something is not to his liking, he flies away. Mr. Beaver is still working on the Dam Project. Mr. Beaver knows winter is coming. He can feel it in his old bones. He has to be ready.

Jennifer and Annelise will brighten our Holiday. We will swap stories and tell tales while the Bullfrog Quartet practices the scales for their singing performance. Perhaps a game of cards after the feast will be in order. Fall will be different. We are different. Our thoughts are different. We are changing like the leaves.

We are entering the magical, mysterious season. Anything is possible. After all, we are here and we did not buy a ticket. We are prime players in a herculean performance. Our roles are vital to the success of the story. If we fail our performance on stage, the play will suffer. We are vital to the success of the greatest story ever told. The universe is watching. Angels are sitting in the front row. The Orchestra Conductor is raising his baton.

So we wait for our time to enter the stage. We will enjoy our grilled pork chops. MJ’s Baked Beans will be a special treat. Lee will catch many fish. Chef Aaron will perform a culinary masterpiece. We wait for the next door to open. Something special is about to happen. We are part of it. As we wonder what our role is and our importance to the Pagent…the angels envy us.

I love talking with solid, hard-working, humble people. People that I grew up around. No foolishness, just friendliness. Such was the little woman at the furniture store today. MJ says we need to replace our couch in the Great Room. The Great Room is what we called big living rooms in the last century. Similar to calling little mansions McMansions. I was excited about the news of replacing our couch, which we had had for fifteen years. I loved it for ten years and liked it for two, and wanted a new one for three years. So to West Frankfort or Furniture City we did go. MJ suprised me again when she said she would like to have a leather couch. I love leather. My goal as a young man was to have a leather coat. Leather coats reminded me of doctors and lawyers. They spoke to my young mind of success. My first leather coat, I wore past its prime. When I wore my favorite coat, I felt I could accomplish anything I set my mind to do. So we saw a red leather chair. Our hearts skipped a beat. What an addition to our drab Great Room. What a promise of the coming fall and 2026.

The only thing better than one red leather chair is two. Red leather has a bit of a devil-may-care vibe. As the Ghostbusters said, ‘We ain’t afraid of no ghosts.’ We are the Baby Boomers with purpose. We enter the Christmas Season already equipped with Red Chairs for Santa and Ms. Claus.

We have arrived. We are here. The months we have been anticipating are here. The ‘BER’ months are my favorite time of the year. I grew up wearing a navy cap and a cloth coat. P. N. Hirsch made plastic shoes that appeared leather. I wore them throughout my school years. Neva J used to require that I get a crew cut rather than a regular haircut, as it was cheaper.
The hardscrabble people of Eldorado did not play. You counted the cost of everything, and nothing came easy. Some Hoecakes and fruit for Christmas were welcome. Gifts that were over five dollars were out of the question.

The couch was not forgotten. A cloth fabric couch was just the ticket. Comfortable and a nice accent to the Red Leather Chairs.

So it goes, the days are bright with the promise of fall. Most things yield to practical matters. We may be like Wimpy of Popeye fame, but all of our money can’t be spent on hamburgers even if we can pay on Tuesday. But once in a while, we can get some Red Leather Chairs…

Another cool day for August. Cooler weather is promised next week. Joy is ours for the taking. One of my good friends in the blogosphere told me she appreciated my blog about the Little Bully. We all have encountered the Little Bully. The little person who projected a menace much larger than they were. The person who gaslights us. The Little Bully causes us to doubt our sanity. The Little Bully wants us to question what our eyes and ears tell us is true. When our friends and neighbors listen and obey the Little Bully, we wonder what is happening. Could it be that we are losing our perception of reality? Has night become day?

Today has some cloud cover. Clouds are our friends. They protect us from the heat. They mask the Sun. The sun is wonderful, but not too much of it. Too much Sun can cause skin cancer. We lay in the Sun’s rays to obtain the perfect tan. If we are not golden brown or Orange for some, we are not doing it right. We want to do it right…thus the gaslighting.

We live in a superheated culture. Show me the money we say. I am reading a book about the super-rich. They are purchasing longer and longer yachts. They want to be the longest yacht owners. I have a model of a Cruise Ship. While the billionaires are working hard to spend their money, others are hoping to pay their electric bill. We poor folks seek the shade of a generous tree while our betters seek the climate-controlled comfort of a long, long yacht. So it goes.

Elon Musk, the richest man in the world worked to fire as many middle-class government workers as he could during his short, destructive time in government. He has a compound where many partners and children live. He donated millions of dollars to the last President during his campaign and reaped over 50 billion upon his appointment to DOGE.

Brooks Pond is like a sheet of glass. The breeze is inspirational. September is knocking at the door. There will be fall trips. Halloween costumes to wear and hot apple cider to drink. We will be happy to be in the Grand Performance. Some of us will play Ichabod Crane and flee the Headless Horseman. We will carve pumpkins and place a candle in the hollowed-out center. Others will grow out beards to Santa Claus’ length. The kids will gather around with bright eyes and anxious thoughts of the miracle that is about to come. How could one well-intentioned old man visit all the children of the world in one magical night? Jimmy Durante sang regarding Frosty the Snowman, ‘There must have been some magic in that old silk hat he found.’ Soon, the furnace will run nonstop as the winter winds whistle. The little Christmas Tree will be brilliant by the massive picture window. Mom in her kerchief and Dad in his cap will settle themselves for a long winter’s nap. They will have placed duct tape around the leaky hollow wooden door to shut out the frigid wind. They will position another handmade quilt on the kids’ beds. Christmas morning will be grand and glorious Dad tells the kids as he brings in the asthma inhaler. The refrigerator will have space to let out rooms. Christmas Dinner will be at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s. The little family worked every day and all the overtime that Dad could obtain. It was expensive to live in the land of the free and the home of the brave…

It has been said that a mind is a terrible thing to waste. I have been around and known some Bullies in my time. We all have. There are the Bullies in the open and closeted Bullies. They feed off the acquiescence of others. A Bully plays on vulnerability. A Bully is a Paper Mache Tiger. When courage is required they are busy. Courage is not part of their day job.

Hitler was a malignant narcissist. His images were of power and strength. After all, everyone had to greet each other with the straight-arm salute and his name in the greeting. Heil Hitler expressed submission to Hitler. There was a lot of submission going on.

Cult leaders are Bullies. They demand their followers do things their way or ‘the highway.’ Often, Bullies are expecting someone to stand up to them. They know they do not have the goods to back their rhetoric. Bullies are disappointed when people smarter than they are bowed in submission easily.

Public service requires courage. It was never to be a well-paid career. Some State Houses still have the remnants of Statesmen and Stateswomen. They are there to do the people’s business. Not their narrow constituency, but all the people. The ethos of having a leader to persecute and bring judgment on your perceived enemies is not new. There is no shortage of advisors who have a damaged understanding of leadership. I had a boss long ago who told me that he had been mistreated by people in power, and now that he had some power, he was going to do the same to as many people as he could. Behind the Bully Leader are hidden Bullies. They whisper in his ears to take revenge.

The Little Bully comes from dysfunction. A lot of fear is in his heart. Fear of being accepted. Fear of being liked or loved. The Little Bully says,’ I will throw sand in your eyes and show you who is the king of this sandbox.’ ‘I will call you hurtful names and look around me for the laughter and approval of the other children, Little Bully says. ‘You are short or fat or have big ears…I will tell others about your defects so they will not look at my defects,’ Little Bully boasts. ‘I am afraid at night in the dark when there is no one to admire and reassure me, ‘Little Bully whispers. ‘Dad does not have time for me, and Mom is aloof,’ Little Bully says. ‘The sound of cheers and approval for whatever I say is music to my ears,’ Little Bullys laughs. ‘Even I can not believe what I can get away with,’ Little Bully considers.

The little boy is doing laps with his dog around their house by the pond. It is a cool evening, and they both seem very happy. The little dog is especially for the evening run. The crickets are tuning their instruments. The Bullfrogs are practicing the scales before their performance in a few minutes. No Little Bullies around Brooks Pond. Creatures working together with an appreciation for each other’s differences and diversity.

Carbondale tied the 1910 record for the coldest temperature in August. Fall is coming. I can hear Christmas Bells in the distance. We are happier in the Cool Breeze. Problems do not seem so big when our brains are not overheating. Cool evenings are a good time to visit the state fair. The well-laid plans of mice and men suddenly go awry…but not in the cool days before fall. Hope reigns supreme when we don’t have to wipe away sweat. I am a knife aficionado. My lifelong friend Brent gave me a wonderful knife last evening. I have added it to my collection. I had no knife like it. We Southern Illinois boys love a good pocket knife. Uncle Jeb on the Beverly Hillbillies wittled. I have not taken wittling up, but I might. Jeb and family struck oil and moved to Beverly Hills. The pool table in the fancy eating room was used for grand hillbilly dinners of possum and gravy. The pool cues were the fancy pot passers. Ellie May loved her critters. There were raccoons, skunks, monkeys, and more. Mr. Drysdale was excited about anything the Clampetts did. He liked their 40 million dollars in his bank. Nothing has changed in 60-plus years.

Jonathon and I were reflecting on the appeal of the State Fair. As a child, the State Fair was the big city to me. There were things at the Fair that I did not see anywhere else. The Headless Man and the Gorilla Man. Brilliant neon lights that captivated my imagination. The Fair illustrated to me the vastness of the world. Everything was not contained in Eldorado. There were many different people on the planet. Humanity was a kaleidoscope of color and opinions. I could see the world from the bird’s-eye view of the top of the Ferris Wheel. Some women have beards. Clowns seemed to have an evil agenda. Their grotesque, toothy grin hid their Machiavellian purpose. Behind the biggest smiles is danger. So it goes. Today, the politician smiles so wide their faces hurt. The promise Channel #5, but give us Old Spice. We wonder if we are still alive or if we died and no one told us. I am reminded of being in a Florist Shop and realizing neither the proprietor nor any of the customers seemed to see me. I considered if this is what death feels like at first. You are still there…but you are not.

The Writing Porch is lovely. The Cool Breeze is wafting through the air. When I sit on the Writing Porch, I feel like I am in Maine. Maine elicits creative feelings in the Old Man. 2025 is our first year in the last few that we aren’t going to Maine. We have traded it for New Orleans in January. Maine has a draw on my soul. The rhythm is easy and the tempo is light. People are friendly but not familiar. The Ocean has a Siren Call. I want to be on a sailboat. The adventure of riding the wind is compelling.

In a sailboat on the ocean, we see that we are but a speck in the universe. Others are not privileged, we are here…we are privileged to be here. What a panoply of tastes, colors, and experiences we partake. I have discovered that life is the State Fair.