This afternoon, the rain fell steadily on campus. Classical Christmas was playing on iTunes, and I felt transported from this time to earlier holidays. Christmas is inspirational. The song tells us we need a little Christmas right this very minute. Memories haunt the dark recesses of our minds. Hate displayed against us or to those we know lurks just under the shadows of the doors to our hearts. We know what it felt like we do not want to feel it again.

Yesterday we felt the light of a new day warm our souls. Today we feel the creeping darkness of a familiar evil. Wisdom is known of her children. We seek counsel.

Some lead by divide and conquer. Brother against sister mother against daughter son against father. Fealty is required. Learn to bow the knee and practice faux allegiance. Don’t make waves my seniors told me when I began at University. Don’t stick your head up too high or you will get it chopped off…they said.

Our field of vision is 20/20. We see the suffering we smell the fear. We will be alright we blend in no one will know us for who we are in secret. Torches burn brightly. Mouths shaped by hate glow in the etheral darkness. Hate that can not be satiated…

Counsel we cry…what to do…where to go…what to say…how to live…

It is darkest before the dawn we heard said. Return we do to the house of our fathers…

Dad has a big safe house that he told us was our home. There are comforters on the beds and the delicious smell of bacon and eggs in the morning. Fresh coffee is perking and freshly squeezed orange juice is being served. It is our sense of place… home.

The obligations of a citizen in a civil society. What we owe each other. What our part to play is for the good of the society. Who is our neighbor? Why do they matter? We feel like an island…but are we?

Traditions that seemed to cut into our Theatre Baseball Bowling and Back Yard Barbecue hours were essential to the peace of home and our sense of it. Along the way, we decided we had no time for church. A bit old-fashioned dated and stale. The message in the Christian Churches was somewhat similar. Jesus loved the little children all the little children of the world. Christ cares for the poor marginalized for those who have no voice. Live his message and you will have a better life more satisfying and purposeful. No bells whistles extra money in your pocket…just a quiet assurance that in others you see the Master…

We said ‘you are welcome’ when someone thanked us. We did not say curse words in public nor take the name of the Lord in vain. Businesses closed on Sunday and those staying open did not sell liquor. Many counties were Dry Counties.

Do not brag, boast, or highlight accomplishments. When another had a challenge physically or mentally, we did not point or stare; we did not relish differences to gain an advantage. Humility was a sought-after treasure.

We are lost. We did not know when it happened. We grew up around people who were consistent with our financial resources. If our neighbors were hungry, we fed them. If they needed clothes, we clothed them. When they were sick, we visited them. Each Sunday and often at mid-week service as well, the preacher told us of the love of Jesus. He loved us all, so they sent him to the Cross.

Give us Barabas…the Jewish throng cried as Jesus was led to the Cross…

‘Welcome to New Church,’ said Elder to the new parishioner. ‘We want to see your financial statement and expect you to give more than 10% to be a member in good standing,’ Elder continued. ‘Never fear you will soon be rich we leaders and God loves a cheerful giver,’ Elder smiled in front of his Mercedes Benz…

Happiness is not contingent on happenings. Joy is in the journey. The weathered among us are often at peace. Life is never what it seems in the moment. It is darkest before the dawn.

We think our times are either the best or the worst. Neither is true. Both are true. When we are full and have need of nothing, we want more. When we are hungry and cold and at a loss of freedom, we seek the little things that make life special.

The woods and ocean bodies of water in general comfort me. Kindness is precious. Hope travels on gossamer wings. Struggle is essential to life. That which comes easy is unappreciated. A new car soon does not shine. A new home needs repairs. Our lives require constant maintenance.

Remind me, dear Lord, is a refrain that applies to our species. Remember how it feels not to be a member of the In-Crowd. Most of us go unnoticed. We have no voice; we are unheard and unseen. Leaders pander to their base. They say the right thing to get elected. Needs that are outside that realm of narcissism are not important. The hungry child looks on in disbelief at their superpower of being invisible.

The Old Widow peers outside her window. She remembers when her voice meant something. Once she had money and many wanted to be her friends. Now she is forgotten or spoken to as if she were a child of little understanding.

‘Bacon will be cheaper now…the election went our way,’ the young worker said. ‘I love macho leadership…women are for the home and hearth while we men make the important decisions,’ YW proclaimed. ‘America for the ‘Real Americans,’ YW said as he forgot his lineage was from foreign lands.

‘Go back home, said the retired man. ‘You look different than me…so you must not be from around here,’ RM continued. ‘American Love It Or Leave It,’ RM said to the sixth-generation African American…

‘Walk a mile in my shoes before you judge me,’ said the Transgender American. ‘We have never met…you have never broken bread with me…how do you know what I have gone through how I have suffered…the ridicule and pain I have endured,’ asked TA?

‘Eggs are cheaper milk is the same price,’ Real American said. ‘Soon we will eliminate the undesirables,’ RA noted with a satisfied smile. ‘Property values will increase as soon as we rid ourselves of the enemy within,’ RA said…

We say one thing and do another. We all are guilty. It is human nature. Suffer from disconnect we do. We are so removed from the people who make decisions that affect our lives…we are on another Earth.

It is a lovely fall day. I saw my friend from Giant City Lodge at the post office. He is an eternally friendly person. MJ reminded Brooks that we must set aside time to enjoy our lives and be happy. The view from the Writing Porch is as good as it ever has been. Peace comes from within. Christianity is a comfortable garment that is worn easily. We must never adopt the rancor evil thought marginalization and fever dream of others whatever the station or megaphone.

You must dance with the one who brought you—I have heard it said. Neva J taught me to love all people, and Jesus taught me the same. I do not change. When I sang the old hymn, ‘I have decided to follow Jesus…no turning back…no turning back…I meant it. Each time I feel a little blue or down in the dumps the kindness of those different than me lifts me.

I watched a fascinating movie entitled Another Earth. The thesis was seeing another earth in the sky and wondering if our doppelgangers were inhabitants. The star discovers that her other Earth self was there and had been just like her until a change in her life’s walk caused her to go down another path. She was the one who had the misfortune to be in a car accident where she was drunk and accidentally killed a woman and her child. She subsequently did prison time for it and had to leave her education behind and begin cleaning houses instead of a promising science career. Her Other Earth self did not have the car wreck or the manslaughter conviction.

We are expecting a real-time fork in the road. There are consequences…

The rain is falling on Election Day. The leaves are letting go of their tree home. Thanksgiving is ahead. Hope is secure. We love drama. Drama captivates us often. We live in a Democracy. We must avail ourselves of the blessing of freedom and choice for ourselves and our neighbors.

Often, we believe that what works for us will work for everyone. I enjoy walking in the woods daily, while others prefer the inside of their homes. Some of us are extroverts, while I am an introvert. Many wore their faith on their sleeve. Others have a quiet faith that does not require trumpeting.

This morning, I walked through the rain and wind to vote. I was accompanied by diverse, friendly people. One lady had her baby covered from the elements. She smiled as I held the door open for her and her child. My neighbor greeted me warmly. Voting was a fun, peaceful experience devoid of hidden agendas. Each person at the Poll wants many of the same things: a happy world, peace, and a taste of prosperity. Shelter against the coming cold. Food when they are hungry. A comfortable bed to lay their head on.

Each of us is deserving of Grace. We have been recipients of it on many occasions. We have received a second chance. We sighed in relief when we were afforded the benefit of the doubt.

People bring me great pleasure. A smile brightens my day. My brilliance has not brought me success. The Grace of others has lightened my load. Understanding is a gift of the angels. To see through another’s eyes is a gift. Feeling the pain of loss hunger…marginalization…is a lifelong lesson.

We are one Human Family. Dividing us is an insult to our kin and to God.

The autumn rain is falling. I am sitting in the Writing Porch which my friend Ira Kaye describes as a beautiful room. I agree. As I spend time on the Writing Porch I think kind thoughts. Anxiety leaves. My vision of the future becomes less murky. The look of the raindrops striking the pond is pleasant. A Great Blue Heron walks leisurely by. It is a happy Monday for him and me.

I watched a cartoon this morning describing the pine trees of Maine. I want to go back and see the pine trees. The Writing Porch causes me to reflect on the big porch at the first bed and breakfast we stayed in at Mr. Desert Isle in Maine. With a glass of red wine in hand and the beauty of Maine surrounding us, it felt good.

Our Nation is a Beautiful Room. Living in such a wide open land with all types of topography climates and people is a rare blessing. As I sat on the elaborate deck during our Maine Stay last month I felt there was no more lovely natural setting on Earth. Indeed there is so much beauty in our Beautiful Room that it is overwhelming…

My Writing Porch is open with a vista of view. Freedom is my view. There are no political shackles. There is no dictatorial requirement or death. Freedom of thought and speech is guaranteed.

Hope is the currency of the realm in our Beautiful Room. The sky is the limit. Everyone has a place at the table…

We have fallen back. It is 4:14 P.M. soon it will be dark. Pastor Kerry preached a lovely sermon regarding our upcoming Election, not from a political stand but from a Christian view. We are a bit anxious an understatement. Media aids in our discontent. Our political/religious rhetoric has become superheated. We race to determine who can get the best zinger in first. Cutting remarks barbed statements mean words have been substituted for courage.

Church and state have become the feet of the statue in Daniel in the Old Testament a mixture of iron and clay. It is impossible to determine where the divisive politics ends and the Christianity of many churches begins. Iron and clay do not mix…

All media sources have bias. The secret is all of us have biases. With our best efforts, it will never be completely removed. Politics was not designed to be the religious answer to a diverse nation. Democracy is hard…it takes a lot of work. The Vision of the United States is a Refuge, …The wretched refuse of your teeming shore’ is not easily achieved.

The first lesson I learned as a manager and then manager/administrator of a large department at Southern Illinois University was I had to look at things from the Big Picture. The question was not what was best for me but what was best for everyone. Not keeping a few friends and neighbors happy…keeping those who have no voice nor advocate happy. Not catering to perceived friends but loving perceived enemies.

Democracy is a work in progress…it is never completed. Hate is not the answer. Acceptance of each other is the beginning of grace. The loudest among us are insecure. Gasoline on a fire does not extinguish it…

Soon we will light the Christmas Candles. The little flickering light will pierce the darkness that surrounds us. Faces from across the Earth will smile into the flame and think of the Prince Of Peace…

‘It is a lovely Saturday…let go rock climbing,’ Billy B said. ‘The Saturday before Election Tuesday will be ideal to take our minds off politics,’ Billy B continued. ‘Whoever wins it will pale compared to the Rush that we will get from climbing the face of a cliff with Salmon Salad Sandwiches,’ Billy B laughed.

‘Tony, I know you do not like egg salad sandwiches so I will make you Salmon Salad,’ George said with a male crush grin. ‘I am down for some rock climbing,’ George continued. ‘Maybe when we go rock climbing you will tell me how you get free pie from waitresses,’ George gushed…

‘Don’t look now but I think we are in a Seinfeld Episode,’ Chet said. ‘I watched this episode on TV,’ Chet continued. ‘Are we dreaming or is this the alternate universe again,’ Chet asked?

‘I do not understand how the fat content in my blood test is so high as I am careful of my diet…however I have been eating a lot of low-fat yogurt,’ Giuliani said.

‘Wake up Billy B and fasten the carabiner…before Chet falls,’ Jane called out! ‘It is dusk and soon will be dark…tonight we set the clocks back,’ Jane said. ‘We do not want to be late for our final journey to the Election,’ Jane admonished.

‘This is a pristine view,’ Chet observed. ‘I can see the entire nation from The Precipice,’ Chet said with tears in his eyes. ‘So…we decide where we have been and where we are going Tuesday,’ Chet whispered. ‘What would President Washington do…what would President Lincoln do…what would my hero…President Kennedy do,’ Chet asked as he spoke to himself…

Today begins the Holiday Season. It’s time to think of turkey, dressing, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade—the joy of Christmas.

A time of year that fosters reflection. Where have I been and where am I going. We are renewed daily. Our lives are a series of happenings. They connect with a loose thread. The thread becomes a strong rope as we age. Yet each day is new. Each day is a snapshot of the whole. ‘Hold your friends close and your enemies closer,’ said the Godfather.

The past is good for learning. What did not work before probably will not work again. The Holiday Season is our reset button. If every time we had an evil thought we replaced it with a good thought…how happy we would be.

Halfway through the ‘Ber’ months…how did this happen so quickly? We are ‘Marching To Pretoria’ Neva J often sang as I got ready for school. Indeed we are marching toward our goal. My goal is peace and happiness for all. No more war John Lennon told us in his famous Christmas Carol. We brag on ourselves and pat ourselves on the back for our upward mobility…yet we kill each other and let the children go cold and hungry…

‘So this is Christmas,’ is once again our challenge. No more war hunger or a roof over you’re head. The theme of the Holiday Season is caring for our neighbors wherever they are from…

The weather is good for Halloween. Rain and chill with grey skies. When we moved to Eldorado I was five. My life had been disrupted. Mom and Dad were considering separation or divorce in Chicago. They came south to start anew. We moved into a Victorian house that had numerous fireplaces. It was heated by the fireplaces and a coal furnace in the basement. The Coal Man came regularly. On the first morning, my eyes were fastened shut by the matting, and cold at night. When I got them unstuck it was frigid. Neva J called out that Dad was starting fires in the fireplaces. Soon I heard the sound of shaking down the clinkers in the furnace. In those days much discussion ensued as to the best coal to burn. Bituminous won the competition with Anthracite. Eldorado was a coal mining town. My bedroom was a broom closet. To enter I climbed into the little bed from the doorway. I heard creaks and groans all night and people whispering as I watched strange shadows on the walls. Neva J found a large dead rat in the bathtub. We were not in our lovely ranch-style home that reminded me of Beaver and Wally’s house on Leave It To Beaver.

There was an ancient well in the backyard. It had a heavy round stone covering its opening. Eerie sounds came from the covered well. My aunt and uncle lived with my family for a month. We watched Eldorado High School Football from the wrap-around front porch. The bright football field lights cast an etheral glow as they illuminated the players. I looked for more rats. My cousin Brenda walked me to Hillcrest School. She was in eighth grade and I began first. I felt like I was living in a nightmare. Nothing was as it had been. Soon President Kennedy was assassinated. Neva J cried when I arrived home early from my first days in first grade. Cousin Billy loved Universal Studio Monsters. Frankenstein seemed comforting contrasted with my changed world. As time passed, I found the Orpheum Theatre, Frankenstein Dracula Wolfman, and The Mummy. Dracula had no defense when shown a cross. Dr. Van Helsing was my hero. I settled into Southern life. When I see shadows I turn the lights on…

At Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale, I heard from the crew supervisor at Anthony Hall that a Malaysian student worker had seen a ghost in Anthony. When she went to the third floor of Anthony she discovered a woman dressed in a white blouse and dark floor-length skirt sitting in a chair in the hall. The student called the woman as she sat silent. Anthony Hall is named for Susan B. Anthony beginning as a Women’s Dormitory. The Anthony Hall Ghost Story spread across Campus until the Vice President asked for a full report. The Crew Boss took me into the attic of Anthony showing me an old framed photograph of women in the building who looked like what the frightened student had seen. The Malaysian Student Community was large in the 1980s’ and the Ghost Story traveled through it quickly. No Malaysian students would work in Anthony Hall after the incident…