It felt a bit summerish in Little Egypt today. The natural rhythms of Monday are subdued as compared to the weekend. Although Sunday is the actual beginning of the week…Monday is the functional beginning.

I often reflect on the idea of the scripture, ‘In your patience possess ye your souls.’ We are such a touchy and sensitive animal that a look or a word out of place can ruin our day. We hurry to finish our day’s mission. From our point of view, we are the star of the show…when in fact we may be the tambourine player in the large band of life.

Mylo is a kept man…or should I say a kept dog. He toils not neither does he spin yet he is arrayed in a glorious white coat, possesses a wining smile, and has ready kisses for all who desire 1…or 10. Yet as the evening shadows fall and his energies subside he becomes a bit cranky. He announces his displeasure to his mom, me, Jonathon, and Aaron with no apparent rationale or reason but rather a simple dissatisfaction at his belief that we have not seen or heard him adequately. Now…Mylo spends his days playing with MJ taking a nap at her side and then eating blueberries and some cucumbers. He then joins me on the couch where he immediately begins a lengthy nap before sleeping for the night. He stretches and yawns and surveys all of his holdings and knows that he is still master of all within his tiny stride and the sound of his massive bark…

It is a warm and windy Sunday. I always think of Bloody Marys’ on Sunday although the drink is a once in awhile pleasure. The ambiance of dinner with friends and family with some tasty Bloody Marys is a picturesque pleasure.

There is a reason that social situations are based on eating and drinking as they are two of our most relaxing activities. MJ and I had a lovely dinner with our friends Jim and Joan and our talk of the vagaries of age and the affront of its attack on us. I ruminated that when I began to feel the attack of the Golden Years I speculated that perhaps I was the first that had felt and noticed the insidious manner that the first salvo from the front lines of time had swirled over my head as the shrapnel hit me. Joan assured me that we all go through the piling up of birthdays and what they bring with them as we become senior citizens.

We Old Folks speak a language that only we understand…we know it when we see it and feel it. We wink and grin when we hear our youngers speak of their getting old and the maladies that ensue.

There comes a certain settledness with age. Accepting that it is time to make your own decisions without a boss or a commandment giver that we feel compelled to obey. In my youth, I endeavored to comply with silly rules and edicts that seemed harmless in themselves and have decided long ago to listen to the timpani of my own drummer.

Violated is how I feel when a politician or a preacher wants to tell me what my behavior should be according to their vision of my purpose as I see it.

Curmudgeon is not a dirty word when used as a seeker of their own walk in life. Indeed it is an honest outlook on the challenges that you have faced and your ongoing walk back to Jerusalem.

We, old curmudgeons and drummer followers, have much sympathy and empathy for those who are hurting and have been marginalized and forgotten and for those who have no voice. We remember how it felt to be the odd man or woman out. The one who is overlooked while others are sought out for their advice.

Truthful speech is as hard to find as hen’s teeth or perhaps the Gold of Ophir. If we inculcated the valuable lesson of speaking truth to power…we would not be in the precarious position that we find ourselves…

Look we do for the Oracle. We seek the one who will tell us the truth…we say. Truth-seeking is hard work. It requires a bit of digging…much as the Gold Rush miners did for gold. It seems that there is no lack of people who attest that if we listen to them they will reveal the allusive truth to us.

Contrary to public opinion the truth is not always what we want to hear. It is not what Grandma said or even what our parents told us when we were but wee bairns.

Truth-seeking requires some dedication. It calls for an open mind. It requires a settled spirit and a desire to learn.

I noticed somewhat early in life that I heard from some friends when after a lengthy conversation I found that they needed something from me. I took note that administrators at Southern Illinois University certainly knew my phone number when I could be of service to them…but seemed oddly absent when I needed something from them.

Our favorite politician assures us that they have the answer to our troubles. Our favorite preacher is happy to let us in on the secret that they have a direct phone line to God and he has shared with them the secret of happiness…for us…if we will only listen.

Curiosity is essential to the discovery. I was listening to the Fauni Willis Hearing today and the Defense said that the judge must disqualify Ms. Willis from being the DA that tries the Rico Case of which former President Trump is a defendant due to the appearances of impropriety. Not that the evidence proved impropriety but just the appearance. Now if there is an appearance of impropriety there most certainly is ‘The appearance of propriety,’ which is often laid at the Candidate’s feet. To accept his extreme battering of truth and then to cloak it as proper and right and if you can believe it…that he is an ambassador of God…strains credulity.

Many would have us believe that the old rules do not apply to our 21st-century norms. 2+2=4 no longer is true. Bullying name calling and demonization of your fellow human are now alright. Get your riches any way that you can with no regard to the ‘Old Truth’ and as Mad Magazines Alfred E. Newman oft times said, ‘What Me Worry.’

‘Humanists base their understanding of the world on reason and science. Humanists reject all forms of racism and prejudice and believe in respecting and protecting everyone’s human rights, including the right to freedom of religion and belief.’

Could what passes for religion in our seeking world learn from the Humanists…

Today has not been on our calendar for four years. If you are one of the fortunate few born on this day you have not had as many birthdays as the rest of us. Bombas Socks just texted me that I should not endure another second in sub-par socks…

‘If it comes in like a lion it will go out like a lamb,’ Billy B said with a wide grin on his face for his poetic acuity. ‘Spring begins this month, he proudly proclaimed.

‘Today is February 29…Leap Day,’ Jane informed Billy B. ‘I have heard that strange things happen on Leap Day,’ Jane continued.

My friend Horatio was born on Leap Day and I only see him every 4 years,’ Chet said. ‘He will be at school today and we will go out for his favorite hot dogs and I will bring my Oscar Mayer Weiners,’ he continued.

‘Where does Horatio go for the 4 years he is gone,’ Neva J asked? ‘Does he live overseas,’ she asked? ‘He resembles you a bit,’ Neva J told Chet.

‘Horatio says that he lives nearby but it is hard to explain the directions on how to get to his house…he told me that I would feel at home there,’ Chet replied.

‘Greetings my friends…I am enjoying the lovely temperatures in Eldorado. It is so much hotter where I come from,’ Horatio said as he wiped his brow. ‘At times we do not go out of doors because it is over 100 degrees and the air is nasty for breathing,’ he said.

‘Why do you only visit on Leap Day,’ Jane asked? ‘You seem so familiar,’ she noted with anticipation.

‘My Dad had a special admonishment that he said to me each morning when he woke me for school,’ Horatio said with a wink. ‘I am from the future…not the far off future but the near future…50 years from now,’ Horatio said. ‘I visit on Leap Day as that is the day that the Mirror Portal in Neva J’s bedroom will operate.’ ‘I come to eat hot dogs with Chet and see a movie at the Orpheum Theatre…and this time to warn you of what is coming for Eldorado and the world,’ Horatio noted.

‘Hit the deck you rubber neck…is that what your Dad said each morning,’ Chet asked with a tear in his eye?

‘The reason I told you that you would feel at home if you visited me is because we live in the same family home…separated by 50 years…Dad,’ Horatio said…

‘

This would be the last day of February were it not for leap year. I read a couple of posts on Facebook speaking of tomorrow being March. After all, it only comes every 4 years. We govern our lives according to the calendar. 2024 marches on.

The Bible tells us, ‘ Hope deferred maketh the heart sick but when the desire cometh it is a tree of life.’ We are seeking the Tree.

Times change and people change. Some come into our lives for a season or a chapter and then they are gone. Peace comes from a sense of place. We know who we are until others perceive us differently and then we reassess our foundations. The foundation is vital. We take our grounding with us everywhere we go. In stormy seasons it gives us peace.

I recall being in uncertain circumstances and having some advisors who counseled me to ‘do the smart thing…look out for myself…be politically correct.’ Easy advice is not always the best.

‘I think that we must back him… after all, he seems to know that we exist,’ He said. ‘I like his smile and the way that he does not tolerate fools gladly, He continued.

‘He said that he will take vengeance on those who oppose him,’
She said. ‘What if he decides we are some of those to persecute, She asked?

‘All of my golfing buddies are for him…I would feel like the Lone Ranger if I disagreed with them,’ He said. ‘He promises a chicken in every pot and a new car in every garage,’ He continued.

‘Who gets the chicken…and besides that, you do not like chicken,’ She said. ‘Do you think that the homeless want a new car for their garage…they do not have a garage…or a place to lay their head at night,’ She asked?

‘He said that he would be Dictator for a day…but how long is his measurement of a day,’ Chet asked? ‘Mom taught me not to lie…lying is wrong…there are no facts and then alternate facts unless there are alternate universes,’ Chet continued.

‘How is everything that goes wrong for Him someone else’s fault…He says that he is being persecuted for me…but I do not feel persecuted,’ Neva J said with a serious look.

‘Could there be a bit of a Messiah Complex going on…,’ Chet asked? I had a supervisor once who took everything personally and thus decided that he would take the entire department down with him due to his hurt feelings, Chet continued. ‘With his directives to stop doing the work that was our shop’s duty to do…we were soon reviled as his narcissistic ego could not be assuaged, he said.

‘Freedom is not missed until it is gone…while we watch other groups of people marginalized and demonized we feel comfort that we are not members of the hated groups…until the Dictator comes for us…’ She said…

It is 76 degrees in our neck of the Woods or 25 degrees above normal. Stormy weather is in our forecast. When the weather becomes so extreme storms are a common occurrence in our region of the midwest. As has been sometimes said…you can feel it in the air.

I wonder if the same could not be said for our political climate. What was at one time a gentleman and lady’s sport can now be labeled a bloodsport? The old adage that sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me…is obviously wrong. A few words from a political leader can put those who he speaks about at risk of losing their life.

Many reputations have been ruined by gossip. False accusations are remembered while the truth is placed on the back page of the newspaper. Speaking in general regarding what people are saying is no evidence of veracity.

Of late I have noticed that images of actors and actresses appear on Facebook and if you take more than a cursory glance at the purported likeness it is just that…it is not the person that the caption says it is.

Could it be that we are being manipulated by our betters or at least those who think that we are simple and thus not able to distinguish the difference between the facsimile and the genuine article?

‘During the 1890s Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov was looking at salivation in dogs in response to being fed when he noticed that his dogs could be conditioned to salivate at the sound of a bell if that sound was repeatedly presented at the same time that they were given food.’ So it is with us when the words or people that our tribe follows call upon us we obey without thought.

Conditioning is key…

How did our enemies become our friends? How did we decide that sexual harassment and abuse become OK for certain leaders? Why do we embrace division and segmentation of entire groups of people who do not agree with us…

‘And they stripped him and put a scarlet robe upon him. When they had twisted a crown of thorns, they put it on his head, and a reed in his right hand. And they bowed the knee before Him and mocked Him, saying, ‘Hail King of the Jews!’ Then they spat on him…’

There is a storm coming…

‘Invariably, George the Fox tells Willoughby that the fox is on the other side of a rail fence, which is actually at the edge of a steep cliff. Willoughby’s line, ‘Which way did he go,’ long ago became a catchphrase…’ Wikipedia

How often have we wondered,’ Which way did he go,’ when opportunity seemed to slip through our fingers or the pursuit of money led to a dead end?

Mr. Fox is cunning and canny. He tells us to align ourselves with those who promise easy success. The Christian Nationalist preacher tells us we will be rich if we do what he prescribes for our lives. Our colleagues and friends admonish that an embryo is a person and in the next breath say that there is no money for the homeless of which many are children…

Comparisons do not produce truth. As a young man, I often wondered why many my age seemed rich and needed nothing while I had enough but certainly was not affluent. If I would just be quiet regarding my Chancellor friend who had been fired…it was strongly suggested that a promotion was in store for me. I chose to not forsake my friend…

Decisions…decisions…decisions…mark our days. I watch the fabulous world of Finance and wonder at the lack of ethical clarity that is its foundational support. Often financial instruments are lauded and subsequently sold to buyers who trust that their brokers are working in their best interest. They are working feverishly in someone’s best interest…their own.

‘So you want to be king I hear,’ L said. ‘I have noticed that you have a large following of fishermen and the common folk…you know…the poor,’ L continued.

‘Well, people seemed to love me and hang on to my every word…but I feel terribly alone now,’ J said. ‘It is funny how when the excitement surrounds you and hope abounds…you have so many friends…but when the going gets tough the tough get going,’ J continued.

‘You look a bit wan and disheveled…I bet you are hungry…I have a basket of food and some lovely wine…let us sit for a moment and contemplate the beauty of the city,’ L said with a sweet tone and a loving smile. ‘I know your feet hurt in those cheap sandals…I have a new pair of Birkenstocks for you…also, I have a memory foam pillow for your head so that you may sleep for a little while and then all of these matters will be clearer.’ L continued.

‘I am so tired and yet my job is not done,’ J said. ‘I called my Dad…but he did not answer…I got the answering machine…his message is one of those irritating messages where it sounds like he has picked up and then when you begin talking expecting a conversation…it is one way because he is not there,’ J said with a frown.

‘Have you tried these iPhones…they are like a computer in your pocket and you can text Dad,’ L said with a laugh. ‘While you are resting and after your dinner and wine…I will prepare your entrance as the King of Kings…and I will be your consigliere,’ L said as he danced a little dance.

I could not find Mom or Mary M before I walked into the Garden…they always have the best advice…but I must say…not my will but Dad’s be done…

Another Friday is here. MJ’s Birthday is tomorrow and today is the pre-Birthday celebration. Giant City Lodge for lunch today. They have a great Old Fashioned.

We look for grandeur and exquisite delight outside our normal walk while…it surrounds us daily. We all woke up this morning and the world began once again. Whatever problems we are facing seem a bit brighter today in the sunlight of nearly spring.

Little Lives are what we live. Not little in importance but little in the microcosm of our daily ‘new life’ that we face each morning. We tend to think of our life from a thirty-thousand-foot view when it is in reality a

bunch of 24-hour snapshots.

Each day is new. Each is unique. Each day we step onto the stage of life to play our role. A colleague asked me how I was able to work a career at Southern Illinois University and I responded that I did it one day at a time.

Focusing on each day removes the regrets of the past and the uncertainty of the future. We are living inside the gift while the mysteries of the universe swirl about us.

It is a bit like seeing a wonderful large brightly wrapped Christmas gift sitting next to the Christmas tree and being so excited that you can not sleep Christmas Eve. Early Christmas morning you race to the tree and begin tearing the paper off with abandon. There before you is a lovely full-length mirror with a note attached…’You are loved…Use your gift wisely…’

Well, I saw my first little yellow flowers this morning in the Woods. They made me smile and put a spring in my step. Happy thoughts are all around us if we just look.

‘Spring is in the air, ‘Billy B said with a lilt in his step.’ ‘It won’t be long until Pounds Hollow is open and we can go swimming,’ he added.

‘Memorial Day on my calendar,’ Chet responded with a wink. ‘Unless you have designs on an early visit,’ he added.

‘I will pack a picnic lunch with Oscar Mayer Weiners for Chet and hamburgers from Moo And Cackle that we will pick up on our way to the Hollow,’ she added. ‘I have a fresh batch of homemade Balloon Wine that I will bring along to make our spirits sore,’ she laughed.

‘I hope that the winter caretaker does not run us out…he reminds me of Frankenstein,’ Jane commented with a slight smile. ‘I swear he must wear a size 16 shoe,’ she said.

‘Look…there he is…Old Mephistopheles and he is wearing the clothes of a Monk from the Middle Ages, ‘Chet noted. ‘My mom says that he was the Caretaker at Pounds Hollow when she was a wee girl and that he has not changed,’ he continued.

‘We are closed until Memorial Day,’ M said as he glowered at the group. ‘Leave before I turn the dogs on you and you will no longer be able to leave,’ M said through clenched teeth.

‘Oh look at the yellow flowers,’ Jane said as she picked one and gave it to M. ‘Please allow me to place it on your lapel, she said.

‘Join us for a flagon of Balloon Wine and some Oscar Mayer Weiners,’ said Chet as he poured him a glass and retrieved a Weiner from the package.

‘I have been the caretaker here for many years and no one has ever offered me a flagon of wine or an Oscar Mayer Weiner,’ said M. ‘Usually people go the other way when they see me and many of the kids make fun of me and my unusual clothing and manner, M continued.

‘You reminded me of my brother Gene…he is a solitary sort but has a heart of gold,’ Neva J said as she refilled his glass. ‘Do you live near the creek,’ she asked?

‘Ever since my MaMa died I have lived in the woods…MaMa made me biscuits every morning when she lived and we laughed often and we were happy,’ M said with a tear in his eye. ‘She made the best biscuits that I have ever eaten…she used a little honey in the batter,’ M said with a sigh as he reached for another Weiner.

‘Have you always been the Caretaker at Pounds Hollow,’ Chet asked?

‘I was a Monk in Germany during World War II…but MaMa and I fled when Hitler began rounding up all who did not fit his physical ideal,’ M said.

‘The yellow flower brings out the marvelous color of your eyes,’ Jane told M. ‘Did you visit Wittenberg while you lived in Germany,’ she asked?

‘Martin Luther was my friend…I helped him nail his 95 thesis to the Church Door…

I saw the above statement on Facebook today. I like it. We oldsters often bemoan our aging infirmities until we realize that our slowing down and squinting at the fine print is better than the alternative.

Now aging seems to come all at once when in reality it is a second-by-second process. Have you ever commented regarding an acquaintance that they certainly were looking old? What must they be saying about you?

I heard it said the 60 is the new 40. So does that mean that 80 is the new 60? Acceptance of the inevitable does not signify defeat. I think that we are as old as feel and not what society tells us. In my church, there are vibrant 90-year-olds who are inspiring.

The United States is an aging nation. Many of the tasks that customarily were done by young people now have positions that are difficult to fill. It has been said that with age comes wisdom…but not in all cases. It is possible to be an old curmudgeon.

Speculation abounds that both Presidential candidates…especially President Biden are too old to run for another term. Never mind that former President Trump is just 3 years younger than Biden.

Methesulah lived to 969 according to the Old Testament. Good vitamins I suppose. For those inclined to take their cues for living from the Bible…age does not seem to be a factor for leadership.

Life is full of adventure and Joie de vivre. It is enjoyed by the senior citizen with a gusto and depth that many times is not afforded to the younger due to their inherent belief in their own mortality.

Laugh heartily…laugh long…

Dance on your grave…