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.

Time moves quickly. Turn around, and it will be Memorial Day. Then comes July 4th…Labor Day…and the holiday season. Time moves a bit faster each year. Reversals come to all of us…We have little time to ponder them. It is time to pick up the tools of life and get back to work. Little time for regret. The Train is moving forward…get on board.

‘I saw the Train coming from miles away,’ Chet said. ‘Neva J told me to be on the lookout for it,’ Chet continued. ‘She told me that she had seen my Dad on the Train…near the caboose,’ Chet observed. ‘Dad has been gone for many years…I would love to speak with him,’ Chet said softly. ‘Dad was a mechanic for Semi Trucks in Chicago when I was a little kid,’ Chet continued. ‘When he came home from work, he would place me on his shoulders…I felt like the king of the world,’ Chet laughed. ‘Bits of information regarding Dad’s life in later years illustrated he was troubled,’ Chet said. ‘I hear that once you board the train, everything is different,’ Chet noted. ‘Pain is no more… anxiety is gone…ephoric feeling is the norm,’ Chet said. ‘Thinking and meditation are valued on the Train,’ Chet explained. ‘Communication is seamless without the false walls that people construct,’ Chet smiled. ‘On the Train people do not deceive each other… nor pretend…their yay is yay and their nay is nay,’ Chet laughed.

‘I have been on this Train for some time…no one seems to realize I am the President,’ POTUS said. ‘One minute I was in the White House, the next I was on the Train…and not in the luxury sleeping car,’ POTUS continued. ‘I saw Mom and Dad in the front of the Train…they smiled wanly and continued their conversation,’ Pres said. ‘My brother sat down at my table in the dining car and talked about flying…but he did not order a drink with his lunch…he ordered coffee,’ Pres said. ‘I told the Conductor that I was needed at the White House…he smiled and said…Ticket Please’ Pres said with a wry grin. ‘I really do not understand why the Secret Service has not come to retrieve me from the Train,’ the President mused.

‘I was in the middle of building a church,’ the preacher said. ‘We had collected millions of dollars and were on schedule to break ground on a magnificent temple,’ Preacher continued. ‘I had flown all over the country preaching to massive crowds in football stadiums the message of Christ,’ the preacher continued. ‘I was anointed…I had a God message…I was his spokesperson on Earth,’ Preacher whispered in disbelief. ‘I am an internet influencer…I have over a million followers…I get millions of hits like and loves on Facebook,’ Preacher said with feeling and looking for an audience to affirm his words. ‘I feel a bit at odds…much as I felt as a kid,’ Pres said.

‘It is warm on the Train,’ Homeless Girl said. ‘It was cold on Broadway next to the Theatres,’ Homeless Girl noted. ‘Everyone is nice…there is food…and a fluffy pillow,’ Homeless Girl noted. ‘People, finely dressed, walked by me as if I was not there as they entered the Theatre,’ Homeless Girl noted. ‘I saw the President at the front of the train car…how could it be that we are on the same Train,’ Homeless Girl wondered. ‘I feel better days are ahead… no more hunger…warm clothes…someone to care…Mom and Dad,’ Homeless Girl mused.

We, the Brooks, went to a coffee shop this morning as the first of two events for Jonathon’s Birthday Celebration. What nice people and a lovely atmosphere at the Green Mug in Cobden. Good cookies too. Jonathon attracts good people…he is a good person. He is unfailingly kind and considerate. Jonathon has more friends than you can count on all of your fingers and toes.

Jonathon does not return hurt for hurt…he returns kindness. Jonathon is the kind of friend you throw a birthday party for. Jonathon is a guileless, happy person in the face of reversal.

I am watching a Horror series on Netflix titled Something Bad Is Going To Happen. A lovely couple is to be married in a few days. They drive to the groom’s family home. The groom’s family is rich. They are exceedingly strange. The thesis is to find your soulmate. The answer to the hypothesis may be to drink a terrible drink, including a pinky toe. Life brings its own unique challenges to each of us.

I enjoy studying the rocky cliffs of Giant City State Park. Such is our journey with many twists, turns, and precipices. All is never lost as long as we stay on the path. Love makes all things whole.

Jonathon is a Good Seeker. He sees the best in all he meets. He brings out the best in us. No gossip. No backbiting. Jonathon has words of hope for the hopeless.

Happy #42, Jonathon!

I think I am a bit late returning to the Writing Porch this season. For 14 years, it has been my Writing Haven. It reminds me of Maine. I look upon our small lake and feel peace. A sense of place. The world’s troubles melt away in the inspiration of the Writing Porch. It is good to read and write fiction. The ability to develop headspace outside the chaos of the moment is valuable. The Writing Porch assists me in not following the crowd.

Stories are life. We get up in the morning and lay our head on our pillow at night with stories. I remember Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and Daniel Boone, as well as 1984, speaking new thoughts to my young brain. In sixth-grade literature, we read Across Five Aprils, and I never forgot it. I became a Christian by reading the Bible Story Books at Ferrel Hospital while waiting for Dr. Ferrel.

Stories make our daily life enjoyable. We look for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We know that there is a Big Man in the Sky…he cares about us even when it seems no one does. Political leaders woo us with stories. They tell us that we are the greatest. Empathetic leaders tell us to help the poor and downtrodden. Some of us like the Story of Jesus as John Wayne. Guns ablazing and barfights ensuing. Tough Christian Nationalist…Jesus favors the white Americans…he does not recognize the brown folks of the people he created.

Stories have flaws. Jesus is not a white American. His disciples were not white Americans…they were not recipients of the Prosperity Doctrine. Greatness does not come from cruelty.

Life after death is a compelling story. We all want to believe it…even those who say they do not. The work…the love…the striving for a better world…must not be lost by the death of the body. We are the product of a Story…we perform our part on the stage of life. Study your lines and practice.

Water fascinates me. All types of water. Rushing water from a mountain stream is peaceful. We stayed in a hotel in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, built over the Little Pigeon River. It provided all of the entertainment that I required. The soothing sound of the moving water over the rocks was mesmerizing. Lately, I have been photographing the shallow water in the creeks of Giant City. The reflection of trees in the colorful water is fine art.

Narcissus loved to peer at his reflection in a pool of water. It was an all-consuming pastime. When Narc was not looking at himself, he was wondering how he looked. Narc enjoyed hearing the comments from his friends and family about…him. Narc was about ‘Me’ and little else. Finally, he disappeared into his lovely reflection.

‘Do not be stuck on yourself,’ Neva J said. ‘Stay humble,’ she continued. ‘No one likes a braggard, let another praise you and not yourself,’ Neva J continued. ‘You cheapen good deeds when you announce them or seek others to do so for you,’ Neva J advised.

‘The Leader says we must do exactly what he says or suffer his wrath,’ Chet noted. ‘He advised the Church to follow what he says or suffer the consequences,’ Chet continued. ‘The President says he knows more than anyone, he consults with himself…he knows more than the experts who have studied the issues all of their lives,’ Chet explained. ‘His work is episodic… no past… no future…all in the moment,’ Chet said. ‘It is about the victory of the day,’ Chet observed.

‘It is difficult to be an ally of a Narcissist,’ Billy B said. ‘Their allegiance is transactional, their loyalty is to ‘Me’, Billy B continued. ‘The Reflection has room for one…not two,’ Billy B explained.

‘God has told me that this is the end of time,’ Narc said to the masses. ‘I have been chosen to kick off the festivities,’ Narc continued. ‘My people are handing out sunglasses to each of you in the audience…the flash will be brilliant…like the Sun,’ Narc proclaimed.

We are creatures who thrive on love… someone who cares… another human who sees us… who values us. We are a bit accustomed to leaders and advocates not reaching out to us. A part of the crowd…unseen and unheard. When a faith or political leader wants all of our opinions, we are compelled by interest. Thomas doubted the resurrection of Christ…Christ wanted him to see for himself.

There is so much we can accomplish when love is the foundation. The woman who was at the threshold of being stoned had no idea that the Carpenter would take her part. She felt the judgmental eyes of the crowd on her. She heard their taunts and jeers. She knew she was out of step with the religion of the day. Who would notice…who would care…many would cheer the Stoning Party that avenged the Law.

The homeless exist by their wits. Unseen, as people turn their heads away. They have left home and hearth for a dearth of love.

Authoritarians believe that the best way to obtain followers is to beat or scare them into submission. Loving people… caring about them… knowing them creates lasting friendships.

‘I have heard it said that you win more flies with honey than with vinegar,’ Chet said. ‘A soft answer turneth away wrath,’ Chet noted. ‘In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin, but he that refraineth his lips is wise,’ Chet grinned. ‘We emulate the coarseness of leaders and thus become lost,’ Chet noted.

‘The nice people gave me quarters to wash my clothes, ‘ the homeless man said. ‘I have not had clean clothes in months,’ HM continued. ‘The look on their faces was angelic,’ HM said in a whisper.

March 30th was World Bipolar Day. The purpose of World Bipolar Day is to raise awareness about what exactly bipolar disorder is while also reporting …

World Bipolar Day Reflections