I used to watch Mr. Greenjeans on Captain Kangaroo. Mr. Greenjeans was an affable sidekick to the Captain. We did not have a color television set, so I wondered if Mr. Greenjeans pants were indeed green. However, there is no doubt that Green is taking over the Woods. I checked on our little tree in our front yard and happily discovered it has several big, healthy green leaves. MJ was overjoyed.

We are skipping our way to summer. I never skipped well. I watched other kids skip, and it looked magical. When I skipped, it was work. The entire intricate movement of skipping was lost on me. Similar to Stealing the Bacon. I couldn’t seem to get the Bacon first… the game’s objective. I thought about the complexities of the Bacon Stealing Movement during off-game time. I did like walking. I could walk a long way. Walking came effortlessly and naturally. I have continued to this day.

I used to have a good balance. I could balance a full open-face cup of coffee while driving and never spill a drop. I ran down the steps two at a time. Worked 16-hour days regularly. Often did not feel good or bad. Energy was sustainable with Mr. Coffee.

Now the Old Man walks more slowly. Often thinking once, then again before speaking. Energy levels are not bad with naps. No more attempts at skipping. Bacon is for eating…not stealing.

I was raised being told in school that the United States was the greatest country in the world. It valued the freedom and lives of the oppressed. The U.S. was a Sanctuary from the Storm. We were the Good Samaritan that cared for the sick and lame along the side of the road. We helped the helpless…gave hope to the hopeless…looked to with admiration by the world.

We used to be happy with what we had. To prepare for Christmas, we joined a Christmas Club at our bank and saved money weekly to apply to our Christmas gift list. We understood that there were rich people…we were working people and happy for the rich to be glamorous as long as we had enough. We talked in wide-eyed wonder of millionaires…not billionaires. Money for money’s sake was not the goal.

We attended church. We knew we needed it. Many friends came from church affiliations… marriages, too. Church kept us on the path home. The honky tonks did not perform that service for us.

When someone did a nice thing for us, we said thank you…they did not respond, ‘ no problem.’ The cashier counted our change back for us. The gas station attendant pumped our gas and looked under the hood of our car…he checked our oil… every time we went to the Gas Station.

Megachurches were not so important. A jet for the pastor and a luxurious car did not exemplify God’s blessing, while the parishioners suffered hunger and were ill-clad. Chris’s message was not displayed in neon lights and a Hollywood manner. The power was in the words…not the building.

I admire authors that keep showing up day after day. It’s often said that writing is lonely work. Perhaps the reason some struggle to write often, …

More Than Half of Life is Showing Up

Sunday is a great day. A time to reflect and plan. We welcomed our new pastor, Meg, this morning. She conveys the sense that anything can be accomplished if we believe in Christ’s message and work together. Seasons bring change…change is a good thing. Change can be as little as a joyful clap while singing a hymn. A breeze is felt. Then there are smiles of joy all around. A connection with God’s Word exemplified by the pastor taking off her shoes as she is on Holy Ground. Words matter. God spoke us into existence with words. Words that are touched by the Spirit/Wind of God’s mouth have power. The Bible tells us that they speak peace to the captive and open the eyes of the blind.

The Old Man hears the Voice of God in the Woods. He and the deer, squirrels, and Mr. Badger listen for the particular wonderful sound of it flowing through the trees. God is not in the extremes of drama…he resides in the quiet places. The sky is full of his wonders, the Earth is his Holy Ground.

There is magic in the words of faith. We, earthen vessels, can only deliver them…God brings them to life. We understand the transformative power of God’s Spirit when we feel it. Suddenly, something is different… There has been a change.

The little girl was worried… anxiety was her companion…she was homeless and hungry, sitting next to the Broadway Theatre. Many well-dressed people passed her by with cold stares or laughing and looking the other way as they walked into the Theatre. A kind man tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Your Dad has been asking where you are…I told him he could find you here, next to the Theatre,’ the Kind Man said. ‘He is coming to ask you to come home…all is forgiven…change has happened…A Good Wind,’ the Kind Man said.

‘Mom and I have been going to church more often,’ Dad said to his little girl. ‘I am sorry for the harsh words I spoke and my inflexibility when it comes to you…I love you…come home,’ Dad continued. ‘A Spirit has grasped my heart…words in the sermon seemed to come alive to me…I am changed,’ Dad said to his daughter as he embraced her.

The temperature has dropped 35 degrees. Quite an overnight change. Colder tomorrow. Sweater weather. Nature brings comfort in purpose even when it is erratic. We look for things we can count on. We set our lifeclock on the seasons of life. Surprise is energizing in small doses.

First, the Straight of Hormuz is open, and before the day is ended, it is closed. Presidents govern by executive order… the next President rescinds those orders and writes his own. No way to run a railroad. Increasingly, we understand that a troubled mind is a poor rudder of safe direction for our nation.

The Old Man has spent his life in church. It has been a great comfort …a safe place. Church lifts the spirit and enables another mile. Gathering with a community of faith that seeks to live out Christ’s message is unparalleled. Not a message of recrimination or revenge…a message for the poor and forgotten.

‘When I look at the painting of Christ looking down from a mountain at Jerusalem, I feel safe,’ Jane said. ‘His face reflects deep reflection,’ Jane continued. ‘What a short time we have on Earth to find our way,’ Jane continued. ‘Why do we fight with each other?’ Jane said with tears in her eyes. ‘We are only passing through,’ Jane observed. ‘God loves us and wants to tuck us in bed and pull the covers up to our neck…he wants us to feel safe,’ Jane observed. ‘Jesus did not speak from revenge or fear…he did not pit people against their neighbors…he turned the other cheek,’ Jane softly noted. ‘Words of peace bring peace…words of healing bring healing,’ Jane said.

‘The mother deer gathered her young to her side before they crossed the road,’ the Old Man observed. ‘The squirrels laughed as the wind increased…they had seen it all before,’ the Old Man noted. ‘Little frightened the Woods Creatures,’ Old Man observed. ‘They heard about the President and his rhetoric…his promise of revenge…his obsession regarding his reflection,’ Old Man continued. ‘The Frog Quartet sang a song of safety…a song of security… a song of love… a song of peace,’ Old Man said softly with a smile.

It is good to be Friday. Mr. 2026 said as he danced and sang. Fridays are full of high energy. There is so much that can be accomplished with a Friday Outlook. The weekend is just around the corner. Reflection and fun are in the near future. The problems of the work week melt in the bright sun of Friday.

The Old Man recalls the joy of Friday in Eldorado. No school for two days. The Orpheum Theatre often had a science fiction movie or a monster movie on Friday night. At this time of year, Pounds Hollow was calling for a spring and summer visit. Several visits per week. Before we arrived, we stopped for Moo and Cackle hamburgers. Or, we took provisions for a picnic, including Oscar Mayer Weiners… the ones kids love to eat. Neva J Chet and the Old Man enjoyed many carefree hours at the Hollow. I was never a strong swimmer, but I was buoyant. I could float like an inner tube. I took great crusader pleasure in floating way beyond the rope of safety to the other creek bank, where the swimmers looked like miniatures. When floating, I heard nothing. I was in my own world. Chet liked Oscar Mayer Weiners straight out of the package. Themlma, his mom, told me that she thought they were precooked. I ate many raw hot dogs with my buddy Chet.
Everyone went to Pounds Hollow. Teachers and principals…the powerful and the poor. It was a great equalizer.

Life seems more fun on Friday. Responsibilities lessen, and anticipation of the future heightens. Anxiety runs for cover under the hope of Friday. Before I became a Christian, the Orpheum was my sanctuary. I attended the movie screening early on Sunday and stayed late. Thirty-five cents purchased an all-day event. Neva J gave me a dollar, and I had money for popcorn, a candy bar, and a Coke. Sometimes I brought home a little change. I had a little pool table in my bedroom. Not regulation size, but it was big to me. I practiced my pool skills and dreamed of becoming the next Minnesota Fats.

Friday was a good time to ride my motorcycle, which was really a bicycle, to town. We lived in the country, and the gravel road did not complement my knobby bicycle tires. It was bump… bump… bump all the way to town. I was a little tall for the 20-inch bike, but it looked cool…like none I had seen. When I arrived, I watched the teenagers drive their cars around and around the town square. I still liked my motorcycle/bicycle.

A kid could buy Marlboro cigarettes at the Dairy Queen if they lied a little. Dennis and I bought a package and split them as we journeyed down the railroad tracks puffing as fast as we could between coughs.

We gathered at Grandma A’s house on Friday night to watch the flick on the big screen of the Starlight Drive-In and catch fireflies. Fireflies were a big deal when the Old Man was a kid. You could not hear the dialogue, but the picture was in full view, if a bit distant. Yoop would come over…she was from Holland. She brought chocolate wooden shoes in miniature. Aunt Guelda called her Yoopie.

Gomer Pyle often said, ‘Surprise…Suprise…Surprise.’ Such is life. Life is full of mystery and magic…and hot peppers. The answer is not in preparation…it is in faith. Without faith, some corners bring trouble. We dance merrily along until we do not. A good periscope that sees around corners would be nice.

The Old Man walked through the Woods. Green leaves were everywhere. Pleasant thoughts… unobtrusive… uncomplicated… the squirrels were happy to be with him. We humans, create institutions that have begun to work against us. Money has purchased the allegiance of our elected representatives. We would speak in their forums…who would listen. Our pockets are not deep. The old days of our leaders serving in Congress for a short time and then returning to their profession have disappeared. There is a palpable reason Congress does not do anything for its constituents…it does not pay as well as a lobbyist.

A vigorous dialogue is what our nation was founded on. Three equal branches of government. Equal, not subservient to the Executive.

Time will morph reality…if you are not paying attention. Encountering the Corners in our lives has caused many to play it safe…follow the religious or political crowd…let someone else do our thinking. Cults are prevalent. Cults are not an anomaly…they are a reality. Prevalent to the extent they no longer stand out. Persuasive enough to have captured the seats of power in our government.

There is more that is unseen than what is seen. A thin veneer separates us from another life. We entered this reality without a ticket and will leave without a request. Corners are before us every day. Some have been endearing, such as when I was asked to head the department that I had been hired into as a janitor. I never visualised this development…but MJ did. We lived in a four-room house for 22 years…MJ said that God told her that she would have a nice home. We have resided in the New House for 25 years. I had the vow that if I was given the opportunity of leadership, I would include the forgotten. This Corner Surprise happened when I was the head of the department.

Time changes things. What seems bleak today…shines tomorrow. Never compromise your values. Fear not. Represent the forgotten…the voiceless…the unseen.

Jesus came to the poor. His ministry was not to the rich and powerful… elite.. religious, powerful…the political powerful. They crucified him. Thirty shekels is not the goal. Influencing is not the path around the Corner. Around the Corner, our ancestors are watching our reactions to the smooth words of the conman. Grandma A died loving her Jesus and her Bible. She sought not the accolades of powerful…she quietly lived her faith.

Around the Corner is the Veil we want to peek around. What comes next? Do we continue in an alternate universe where little has changed and yet much is subtly different? Are there many versions of each of us similarly living our lives…if you look across the street? Is there an Old Man writing on his Writing Porch…as I write…

Clouds roll in. Light fades. Sometimes peaceful…sometimes oppressive. Much is dependent on what we are experiencing. The regularity of life is lost on many. There are no daily orchestra pieces. Near the London Eye, my friends tell me there is a musician playing bagpipes. Not a regular occurrence at my house. We want the surprise ending before we are through the story.

The joy of the journey is in the steps. Each step is a moment in our lives. Often, the obscure are memorable. The Old Man remembered a little stuffed Christmas toy called Laughing Santa. Laughing Santa was neither expensive nor flashy. He had a crank protruding from his back that, when turned, caused a sound approximating a laugh and a growl to emanate from his belly. His plastic face was an eternal, jubilant laugh with bright blue eyes. Among all the Christmas gifts… the Christmas Tree… a new tricycle…Laughing Santa took his place in memory.

The surprise of age is how quick it happens. Was it overnight? Change that requires adjustment and acclamation. A sense of humor helps.

Each day matters. Paul of the New Testament said that he was content in all the situations he found himself in. Not a bad philosophy of life. Peace comes from a sense of place. It is easy to be a bit anxious regarding your Happy Trail. The years reveal that drama accomplishes little. Daily addressing of what is before you is a satisfying accomplishment.

Happy Trails require openness, honesty, and integrity. Chaos and confusion as the operational principle of a political leader is the product of a troubled mind. Living under authoritarian leadership is the opposite of Happy Trails. Pigeonholing people is the work of elitists. Treating God’s creation as your objects is blasphemy. Using fear as a tactic of control is a favorite of dictators.

‘I hoped for more,’ Jane said. ‘More food…more drink…more holidays,’ Jane laughed. ‘I saw others who seemed to have it all…I wanted a little piece of the pie…I wanted to move on up like the Jeffersons,’ Jane smiled. ‘We Babyboomers were told to strive for a house in the suburbs with a two-car garage and a color television set,’ Jane winked. ‘We were the generation that would change the world,’ Jane danced on one foot and then the other. ‘Climb the ladder of success…skip a rung or two if you can,’ Jane continued. ‘Education was vital, and the more the better,’ Jane observed.

‘Mr. Badger told me the race to acquire more things would soon be over,’ Old Man said. ‘A world of Joy rather than a world of jobs was coming…God’s creatures having time to think deeply…live fully…love without favor of persons,’ Old Man laughed. ‘The static of authoritarians would be adjusted where the clear sound of love would be heard…a bit like waking from a nightmare…a bit disconcerting for a moment,’ Old Man noted with a smile. ‘It is the little things, kiddo,’ Old Man observed. ‘The sound of Mr. Woodpecker doing his daily chores,’ Old Man winked. ‘No more ravings of ill leaders who need care…who do not care…about us,’ Old Man whispered.

It is a windy day. The Old Man observed that most days are windy in his Golden Years. The wind feels good on the Writing Porch. As we journey, we forget. Often not intentionally. Some of us misremember that those who helped us along the way and replace this history with, ‘I did it my way.’ No matter how introverted we are, we did not come this way by ourselves. At all points in our lives, there were helpers. People who believed in our abilities. People who cared…they sought no recognition… no praise…only our best interest. I had a supervisor ask me many years ago…how Jay Brooks became Jay Brooks. There is a process from cradle to grave.

‘The people of Palestine are humans…the people of Iran are humans…how do we rationalize their destruction as if War was a Game,’ Neva J asked. ‘We think of them abstractly while we think of ourselves dynamically,’ Neva J continued. ‘We step over the homeless on our way to a fine restaurant…we avert our eyes at the ill-clad family asking for donations…if we think anything, we think, ‘By the Grace of God, there go I ‘Or, we say they should get up and go get a job,’ Neva J continued. ‘People across our world and in our Country live in abject poverty…our dogs live much better, richer lives,’ Neva J observed. ‘Where would we be if someone had not given us a helping hand…had not shown compassion…had not fed us when we were hungry,’ Neva J whispered. ‘Mother and I hunted for persimmons in the woods because we had nothing to eat…my dad was an alcoholic…his money went for his passion,’ Neva J continued. ‘When we objectify and dehumanize a civilization, we have lost the plot and our memories have failed us,’ Neva J mused.

‘Perhaps we have forgotten who we are,’ Chet said. ‘We are a needy people who have forgotten the needy times,’ Chet continued. ‘We guard our half-acre of land and riches as if it is our birthright…as if we are king of the hill forever,’ Chet mused. ‘I remember walking everywhere I needed to be…I had no car…I had no money to purchase gas,’ Chet noted. ‘I was hungry and had no food…I ate Cremora by the spoonful and wiped the residue from my lips…I attended church with people who regularly had steak dinner and admonished me to eat steak, as I was pale and losing weight.’ Chet smiled. ‘My clothes were tattered…my pants were too short…my friends called me ‘High Waters.’ ‘We forget when we have enough…more than enough…’ Chet said with tears in his eyes.

‘It hurts to be hungry,’ Billy B said. ‘Many have tunnel vision when it comes to seeing suffering people,’ Billy B continued. ‘We think our President is a narcissist…we are narcissit…we focus on what is directly in front of our field of vision…someone may be starving in our preiphial vision…we see them not,’ Billy B said solemenly. ‘I returned from the hungry and ill clad…I finally got a job that payed enough for me to live…many were suprised…they did not think I had it in me…I worked 16 hours a day when I was hungry,’Billy B said with a look of forgivness.

There are sorrows in life that will try to consume us. I cannot recall a time in my life when I did not know this fact. I’m a happy person. I’m a …

How to Write a Story With a Fancy Pen

April is going merrily along. The air is fresh with the winds of spring. The Old Man walked gingerly in the Woods. Green is popping out all over. The wonderful world of nature does not deceive. It is who it says it is. Nature does not deceive. The Sun arises each day and warms the Earth. The young shoots of grass spring forth from the dark ground. The geese know where to be. The prose of spring is never skipped or altered. Nature follows the reliability of the universe.

It is easy to be fooled. ‘Fool me once…shame on me…Fool me twice, shame on you.’ Or, as former President Bush said, ‘Well, you should not fool me three times…’ So it is as we are told daily that they are simply not true. We receive information overload of the bad kind. Scam emails… phone texts… letters and more are a way of life in our modern world. While we are deciphering one lie…three more are waiting in the queue.

The Deception that hurts is the deception of a friend. Someone you care about. A person you can be yourself with and feel safe with. In later years, many feel safe with their favorite politician. Time normalizes what was once abhorrent. There is only one Christ…and it is not the President.

We open the door of our heart to people…sometimes the door gets slammed in our face. We are a part of their world…until we are not.

I had a good friend to whom I told that I do not change. I had seen so many reversals of friendships and allegiances that I felt sickened. I have worked in churches where I was accepted and welcomed…until I was not. It is a funny feeling to have friends turn their backs on you.

One day a brilliant smile…the next a distant gaze. Relationships are hard. Yet Christ told us to love each other without fear or favor. Love is the answer to our problems. Love is not an easy commitment. Love is grief and sadness…laughter and fun. Love is accepting another at their worst and thinking little of it. That would be the reason for the vow, ‘In sickness and in health.’

Beware the person who tells you they will make you rich with little effort on your part. Be careful of the person who tells you they love you before they know you. Success is incremental. Anything else is a heady psychedelic trip that leads to disappointment. When something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

The preacher promises the people wealth beyond their imaginations if they will give of their penury. The President promises healing in the mode of Jesus if you will believe his AI iconography.