Autumn contains the quiet times. Our world slows down a bit. Reflection and thought are more easily accessible. Hope is turned to more frequently. Pumpkins and Pumpkin Spice haunt our dreams and we think of loved ones who have passed from us. The joy that they brought us and the seeming assurance that it was always going to be as it was in our most splendid times together.

Some have money and plenty of it. They tell us to do as they have done and act as they act and we too will be rich. Others have power and authority and know that they are God’s gift…they assume. Still, others preach to us and demand that we believe their doctrine and respect their arduous study and their personal pipeline to heaven.

We yearn to understand. We feel the hope of the unseen. Peace is our welcome companion. Our ‘Betters’ say to us, ‘Follow me and I will lead you…you know that you require a leader,’ while we hear an inner voice that is a still small wind and it comforts us in our distress.

Detective is our profession and mystery is our vocation. What is beyond the veil? Is death simply God’s Other Door and when we walk through it…we will understand the Secret?

There is a lovely fall breeze blowing through the writing room. I have seen my first leaves changing colors. My Fall Spirits are lifted. Last week was simply a wonderful time in Maine. We sailed and hunted for lighthouses and ate Red’s Lobster Roll. It is cooler today in Southern Illinois than it was in Maine for most of our stay. There was even a Bald Eagle’s nest on a little island just off Graywoods and it screeched a memorable cry. When we arrived at the empty house MJ and I distinctly heard a woman’s voice call out, ‘Hello…Hello,’ and try as we might we attempted to answer her but she did not reply.

So, I heard a quote from a book on the life of Edgar Cayce where he referred to ‘God’s Other Door,’ and I liked the sound of it. One thing is for certain…we are uncertain about life after death. The great actress Betty White said before she died that we soon find out what the secret is.

Life is the greatest mystery. Have you ever seen an automobile wreck and thought that if you had been a few seconds ahead of your location on the road it could have been you? Seemingly minor or inconsequential choices make for major life changes. I began my career at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale as a Building Service Worker I but spent the majority of my time there as a member of management/administration.

Ghost stories make a chill go up our spine. We are entering the time of year when they will be prolific. When we moved to Eldorado from Chicago in the fall of 1963 we truly moved into a haunted house. I was 5 years old and my world had been turned upside down. I slept on a cot in the utility room. The house creaked and groaned and I heard whispering. On one occasion I heard a voice proclaim that I was meaner than the devil…when I asked in what way…silence.

So what is the Secret that Betty White spoke of? Is it a narrow view of the afterlife that our church dogma has taught us…or is it as big as God…

‘I think that this visit to Maine has been my most enjoyable,’ Billy B. said with a wink.

‘Could it have been the Lobster Roll from Red’s Eats in Wiscasset,’ Jane asked?

‘I think my favorite part was the Maine Beach,’ Brock announced!

‘My favorite was the ghost of the old pre-civil war house,’ Marcy said with a shudder.

‘Well, the sailboat excursion was my fave with the opportunity to talk with the Captain for most of the two hours that we were on the ocean,’ Aaron said.

‘I like my Lighthouse Tatoo very much,’ Billy B. grinned.

I wrote in my Travel Journal and sweet Emily came to visit me once again,’ Jonathon mused.

‘I thoroughly enjoyed the breakfast at the little cafe in Bath and the Bakery that is next door has the most spectacular pastries that I have ever tasted,’ Jane said.

‘The Lighthouses were unparalled and the granite dock was treacherous,’ Brock noted.

‘Big Girl and Puddin made the trip delightfully funny and exciting. The stories of their many adventures were amazing,’ Billy B. said with a hearty laugh!

‘We had a Fecking wicked time,’ said Brock.

‘I can still hear the bald eagle screech,’ Aaron said.

‘I still taste the fried oysters that we had in Camden…and my o my what delicious Dirty Martinis,’ Billy B. exulted!

Suddenly came a knock at the front door. ‘Who could it be on a quiet Sunday afternoon, Marcy asked?

‘My lord help us…it is Puddin and Big Girl,’ Brock said with a wicked grin.

Today I was in Eldorado and I saw the Town & Country Parade. Town & Country Days were a big celebration when I was a youngster in Eldorado 60 years ago. I vividly recall the preparation of converting the town square into a Carnivale Pavillion. The Cake Walk was one of my favorite pastimes…once I won a cake. As I looked among the joyful faces I sought a face that I recognized. Then it occurred to me that it had been 48 years since I resided in Eldorado and that if there were still people I had once known they might think…who is that old fellow?

The passion and beauty of a small town is unparalleled. While those who perceive themselves to be a bit urbane the reality of our planet is that many of us come from rural areas, villages, and hamlets. Communal celebrations are vital to us. Our kids all know each other and our parents are bound by the cords of community.

Living in Eldorado was to be a part of something bigger than myself. It had the feel of the big city and my backyard at the same time. Folks did not have money as their prime motivator. There were times like the Town & Country Days when everyone from Eldorado knew what they were all about. Heart and home and church and family. As well as the joy of all kids…free candy…

This year in Maine or last week…we had the unique experience of sailing for a two-hour tour. I do not believe that any of us had ever been on a sailboat previously. We set out from Booth Bay Harbor. It was an evening sail which made it all of the nicer.

A different world is sailing on the sea. I soon forgot my cares of the land lover. The gentle swaying of the schooner and the hoisting of the massive sails caused me to feel a bit of what the sailors of old felt as they made their home on the water. The culture is different than ours for the sailboat crew. The words are different and when spoken are heeded quickly. All of the crew were barefoot and with good reason…how are you going to climb the rigging with shoes on?

Artificial melts away. There is hope and peace and contentment on the water. The petty cares of who has the most money or possessions are lost in the grandeur of the majestic experience…

We have just returned from a wonderful Maine Holiday. Having Brock and Marcy join us this year made it the most special of our six visits to the Pine Tree State in the past 14 years. We stayed at Graywoods just about a mile from Bath. Graywoods has majestic scenery and a sense of peace and isolation. The beauty of the manor was unparalleled and we felt the love and laughter that had been and I am sure still is being enjoyed in its confines.

The most memorable adventure was our excursion on a sailboat. The Captain was from Illinois. The adventure was infectious. The memories are endearing.

Our dear friend Emily joined us once again and made our visit all the more special. She has such a lovely and winning personality and she picks up card games quick. Maine teaches me what I should be and how to not take myself or life so seriously. There is a beat to Maine and it is regular and measured and symphonic.

‘I like bells, ‘Puddin said.

‘I like bells too, replied Big Girl.

‘What a splendid bell this is,’ Puddin exclaimed!

‘At home, Mother will never allow me to ring the dinner bell which she calls a cowbell,’ Big Girl sighed…

‘Do you think some cows would come if we rang this bell, Puddin asked with a slight smile?

Clang…Clang…Clang peeled the large iron bell over looking at the ocean.

‘That was super fun Big Girl said, as the massive bell rang over the woods and ocean.

Moo…said the cow as he lazily walked up to Puddin and Big Girl…

As a kid, I often heard others older than me about a particular glass called a tumbler. I thought that was a cool name as I equivocated it with the act of tumbling. In fact, a derivative of the title is a glass that you could not keep from tumbling over while another meaning is a glass that has a weighted bottom and thus could not be turned over. I wonder if we do not drink out of both Tumblers at times?

Labor Day will soon be over and the summer of our laughter and play will close. We will be sorrowful for a moment until we look just ahead of us and there is fall in its autumnal glory. Suddenly it dawns on us that although summer has gone and life has changed…there is beauty and wonder ahead.

A snapshot is what we live in. It is our reality but it is frozen in time. Each photo seems to be our life in total…until the movie continues.

Have you heard it said that we make plans and God laughs? Soon the leaves will fall and the air will become crisp and Pumpkin Spice Coffee is already available. We Old/Young people think that we have all of the answers to life’s persistent questions because our perspective is so myopic. The massive and mighty trees that I enjoy photographing in the Woods worry not. Their leaves grew out a hearty green and were plenteous…and then they fell to the ground in a swirling eddy of air. Then the cold comes and the bare limbs and the frost touches the great oaks. The trees worry not…they know that spring is coming…

When the fire ravages and the woods suffer and they lose many of their family…then the seeds deep in the earth sprout with new life…

There is a third type of Tumbler that when pushed moves away from the force of the push and then comes back to the center due to its shape…much like the old child’s punching bags that when you hit Bozo The Clown he might go to the floor…but he came immediately back up to his standing position…smiling…

‘Well, this is it…September 1,’ said Billy B.

‘If we do not go to Pounds Hollow in the next 3 days and this day is over halfway gone…we will have to wait until Memorial Day for a swim,’ Jane said.

‘I was hoping we could take a final summer swim before we set off for Maine next week,’ Chet said with a sly grin.

‘This year we shall see a whale and drink ale, said Neva J. with a lusty laugh!

‘I will pack the merlot and the hot dogs…the weather is fall and a swim should be invigorating, Neva J said.

It was excellent at the Lake. The kids were laughing and the old folks were frolicking. It was a treat to relish the gifts of the Hollow for the last summer swim.

‘I found one of Aunt Vema’s old art books and all of the women in the photos were nude. They were posing…and I found it very interesting,’ Billy B. said academically.

‘You don’t say…all nude…indeed that would be educational,’ Chet remarked as he sipped his Merlot.

‘My Aunt is an artist in Maine and she told me that when she was a young woman she had swam in the nude and they called it ‘Skinny Dipping’…she said that once you do it you will never forget it, Jane said with a chuckle.

‘Dad had an old Nudist Camp magazine in his desk drawer and when I looked through it and realized that there is nude…and then again there is…nude,’ Chet said with a chortle.

Once you have seen it…you can’t forget it,’ Neva J commented as she opened another package of Oscar Mayer Weiners…and Chet took one directly from the package and placed it on a hot dog bun.

Our Intrepid Traveler decided to swim to the far bank of the lake and see what was over the next hill. As they climbed the hill they were amazed to discover another lake that was surrounded by trees and then they heard laughing and giggling and what appeared to be youngsters playing water tag. There in the chilly water were their teachers and the principal…naked…and apparently loving it! This was the most memorable and educational class of the year and was a recurring subject of conversation in Health Class…

This is it. This is the big one. September begins at midnight! My first marker of this glorious month was the Jerry Lewis Telethon that played over Labor Day for many years. I was always a Jerry Lewis fan but never more than when I witnessed his sincerity for children in need. When I watched the show I understood that my favorite third of the year had arrived. I was never a summertime person. The Ber Months are my jam. Being a classic horror film aficionado I begin my viewing of them now. The original Frankenstein movie will be on Svengoolie on METV on Saturday night. I rejoiced to discover just last month that we are now receiving METV. We used to get it and then we did not for a period of years. It has all manner of old television shows…I am speaking of the ’60s…and some wonderful kitschy commentary on the weekly horror show Svengoolie. My cousin Benda used to babysit me on Friday nights and we would watch the Friday Night Horror Show through our laced fingers covering our eyes. Friday was grocery day and Neva J and I would procure the groceries at the Eldorado Food Center I would often get a comic for 12 cents and then two pepperoni sticks for my Friday night feast. The perfect combination of these magnificent weekly occurrences made for a wonderful start to the weekend.

Today I pursued DuQuoin which was my childhood destination for the DuQuoin State Fair…which is going on as we speak. In those days DuQuoin was a magical city. I understood that DuQuoin was so much larger and more of a happening place than Eldorado where I lived. After all the State Fair boasted of hosting the Hambletonian which was the premier harness race in the nation. The famous comedian and movie star Bob Hope was a regular performer at the Fair as well as Red Skelton and even Elvis. There were my delight in those days of shows termed ‘Freak Shows.’ I saw the Headless Man as well as the Headless Woman. There was an African American man who came out on stage and danced a lively dance to a swinging band and invited us in to see exotic women…but alas I was too young. DuQuoin State Fair was mystical mysterious and otherworldly. The combination of the Carnivale Barkers and the loud music and the crush of the crowd…I became a bit dizzy with delight.

We often attended the Fair on Labor Day which was its final day of operation in DuQuoin. Often well before closing the Ferris Wheel Operator would already be closed down and in the process of disassembling the scary machine. When I mentioned to the grizzled lady that it was not closing time she responded that it was Labor Day…Kid…