It is a fantastic fall day. It dawned on me that Thanksgiving is getting close. I checked the calendar, and it is less than two weeks away. Time is flying.

‘This will be the best Thanksgiving ever,’ Tom Turkey said with a gleam in his eyes. ‘I have been gathering chestnuts and berries for appetizers, and mother is going to cook pumpkin pie,’ Tom continued. ‘Mom has been to the market in disguise with the kids,’ TT laughed. ‘You can not be too careful this time of year,’ Tom Turkey noted.

‘I love oyster dressing,’ Mr. Badger said with holiday aplomb. ‘Moley and I are so pleased to join you and your lovely family for Thanksgiving this year,’ Mr. Badger continued. ‘Mrs. Badger is making mincemeat pies and cooking a batch of divinity for the festivities, Mr. Badger said. ‘Moley has a new bib and tucker to wear to commemorate the great day,’ Badger proclaimed.

‘Indeed, we are having the best Thanksgiving ever,’ the Old Man announced. ‘Joining us today are my friends from Syria who are refugees,’ the Old Man informed. ‘As it was many years ago for the Pilgrims, this will be their first Thanksgiving,’ the Old Man smiled.

‘Where do you want me to place the Tofu Turkey?’ Moe asked as he danced around. ‘Curly almost ran us late, but I twisted his nose and then he hurried,’ Moe said. ‘We followed the Turkey family who are dressed as Pilgrims and Native Americans,’ Moe continued. ‘Tom Turkey is a riot of laughs,’ Moe said. ‘He asked us how many Turkeys it takes to screw in a light bulb,’ Moe laughed. ‘I told him one to hold the light bulb and two to turn the light bulb holder until the bulb is screwed in,’ Moe chuckled.

At times, the Christmas Spirit overwhelms the Old Man. Christmas classical music does it most days. The Old Man thinks back to Laughing Santa and the big Christmas Tree in Chicago. Neva J was smiling sweetly. She was dressed in 1960s holiday regalia. Neva J was a lovely lady. She wore slacks like Laura Petrie on the Dick Van Dyke television show. The Old Man saw similarities with his suburban life in Chicago. Rob was the head writer for the Allen Brady Show. He was good-humored and witty. Their lives were upper-middle-class and fun. They had a little boy named Richie. Sally and Buddy were Rob’s writing colleagues. Their writing vocation appealed to the Old Man as a lad of the 60s. Laura Petrie and Neva J looked alike to the Old Man.

The early 1960s were hopeful. Danny and Pauly lived down the street, and Steve and Susie lived up the street. Steve had marionettes. They fascinated the Old Man. The possibilities of Steve’s Marionette Show were endless. The Old Man had a crush on Susie. She hugged him every time she saw him. Susie was a bit older. Ivy was Neva J’s best friend. She smoked Camel Cigarettes one after the other. Ivy cussed like a sailor and loved Neva J. Her husband Bob was as quiet as Ivy was talkative. Ivy expounded on the state of the world and her admiration for President Kennedy. Her voice was deep and raspy and loving for her friends, including the Old Man. Ivy did not suffer fools gladly. She ruled the roost and loved her family.

Laughing Santa was a delight. He had a crank on his back when turned, which produced the most unique laugh. He was Christmas to the Old Man. Laughing Santa was an eternal optimist. His smile never wavered. He laughed uproariously at the problems of the moment. The Old Man wanted to be like Laughing Santa.

So it goes, one day Neva J and Ivy proposed that we make a trek into the heart of Chicago to see Lady And The Tramp at the theatre. The Old Man was excited. He had a bit of a crush on Lady as well as Susie. The Christmas Lights were brilliant. The Christmas hustle and bustle of the City was overwhelming. Susie was holding the Old Man’s hand as they navigated the jovial holiday shoppers and moviegoers. There Lady and Tramp were, along with Jock and Trusty. The world of Lady and Tramp and Neva J and Laurie Petrie meshed perfectly. The theatre was full of happy Christmas revelers. Susie held the Old Man’s hand and Lady in her home with the Darlings and the Siamese Cats were looking down from the silver screen. A perfect home life of domestic bliss and holiday hope.

Today is an extension of the hope of the Old Man’s youth. The nirvana of Christmas and the hope that it brings. When it comes to Christmas, we are all children at heart. We wonder what is in the brightly wrapped gift. Who is thinking of us at the time of the celebration of the Christ Child? Who will we hold the candle aloft beside as we sing Silent Night?

MJ told me she was going outside to see the Northern Lights last evening. I thought, what is the use, since the last time I heard they could be seen in our area, I saw nothing. Yet I followed her out and to my amazement, there the Northern Lights were in all of their majesty. It was indescribable. I later learned that we were experiencing a Solar Storm on a grand scale. People across the country were seeing the Holiday Light Show. Seeing the Northern Lights causes a sensation of the smallness of humanity and the grandeur of the Heavens. Jonathon won a coffee cup at Bingo that says, ‘I Am A Pretty Big Dill,’ with a drawing of a dill pickle on it. This is what we mortals think we are. We are part of something so much greater.

Christmas is coming. The great gift of Christ’s birth will be celebrated. The Magi saw the Star of Bethlehem in the sky. It announced the birth of Jesus. It is customary to travel long distances to see the Northern Lights. They are rare, and many live their lives without seeing them. Last night, they were on display for many to witness. Signs and wonders or natural phenomena. They are quite beautiful as we travel around the Sun in our galaxy.

Who can say what next year will bring? Clearly, hate will not move us forward. Paranoia will not calm our minds and settle our hearts. The little baby in the manger, surrounded by shepherds and animals, wise men, and hay, has answers to our anxiety. People say Christians must have strict standards to judge others by. Yes, we must love each other as Jesus loves all of the little children of the world. We must hate the abuse of children and the blindness to the hungry and needy of the Earth.

The Lights return tonight. A message is in their brilliance. Look up, America, and let the warmth embrace your cold hearts. A gift has been given. People will say it is simply a celestial natural occurrence. Of course, that logic applies to every manifestation of faith that Christians encounter. Who can say? Why does unseen faith guide our steps? A heavenly door may be open, shall we enter?

The cold wind whistled through the trees. Nature’s Clock was ticking. The leaves were unparalleled in majesty. The Old Man felt the cold for a bit and then became accustomed to it. He had been there before. So it goes with life. The older you are, the more you have seen. What seems concrete is made of clay that softens in the rain. Politicians are like a summer weed that shoots up toward heaven and soon dries and lies on the earth. Kings seek obedience and servitude, all the while they know not how long their reign will be. Leaders forget they work for the people. Not the lobbyists and special interest groups.

‘I have a mission to enjoy the remainder of the fall,’ Chet proclaimed. ‘It is my favorite season of the year,’ Chet continued. ‘My birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas rolled into one fantastic season,’ Chet danced on one foot and then the other. ‘There is joy in the Autumn Adventure,’ Chet sang to the top of his lungs. ‘It is between Halloween and Thanksgiving, which affords us an excellent opportunity to still invite Frankenstein and Wolfman to our Thanksgiving Dinner,’ Chet laughed a lusty laugh. ‘I have it on good authority that they have nowhere to eat Thanksgiving Dinner and that they would love to come to our celebration,’ Chet assured with a wink. ‘Frankenstein will bring his son and his blushing bride, while Wolfman will bring his new bride, who is a movie star,’ Chet said. ‘We will have a grand time in the Woods with Badger and Mole Toad and Rat,’ Chet announced.

‘I have never eaten such succulent Turkey,’ Frank N. Stein noted. ‘You know we feared no one was going to invite us to Thanksgiving Dinner but hoped that the new Frankenstein movie would help folks not forget us,’ Frank N. Stein said. ‘It portrays me a bit harshly, but I understand box office and all,’ Frank said softly. ‘My Bride and I are so pleased to have our son with us as he is home from SIUC,’ Frank said with a proud smile. ‘He is majoring in Biology and the study of creating life,’ Frank smiled. He wants to follow in the steps of his grandfather,’ Frank N. Stein laughed.

‘This is a great day for a Thanksgiving Dinner in the Woods,’ Wolf Man said. ‘My new bride, Meryl Streep, is honored to join us today, Wolf Man happily noted. ‘She and I have been in love for some time and now are free to display our romance to the world,’ Wolf noted. ‘Meryl has always gone for the bad boys,’ Wolfy said. ‘That is why she likes me,’ Wolfy laughed.

‘Today we celebrate life and allegiance and hope for the future,’ Mr. Badger proclaimed. ‘In a country celebrating division, suffering, and strife, we say No,’ Mr. Badger roared. ‘No, the faux Christian message and lauding of lawlessness,’ Mr. Badger continued. ‘No to marginalization of the voiceless and homeless,’ Mr. Bader noted. ‘Acceptance of the stranger in our land,’ Mr. Badger said with tears coursing down his cheeks.

It is cold in the neighborhood this morning. A chill factor of 12 degrees. We had our plants deadheaded just in time. What happens today is not something that happens every day. Things change. The cold of winter will yield to warmer temperatures later this week. The grey clouds will part to a sunny blue sky. What seems terrible and dire may turn into hope and dreams.

The Old Man was a poor boy from a poor family. Often sold short in terms of his abilities. Underserved and marginalized by the success of his peerage. Underestimated and assumed simple by vocation. After all, there were the movers and the shakers. The Hare danced and skipped around the Tortoise laughing and pointing. Perhaps the Old Man was lazy or slow of purpose, the crowd wondered. Regardless of the mean words or silly jokes, the Old Man smiled and returned good for evil. A churchwoman said that she had a dream where the Old Man was supervising many of his detractors in a business. The Old Man was a success and a catalyst in helping many forgotten people become successful.

The Tortises walked one deliberate step at a time. Their Guardian Angel could see the future. The race is not always to the swift and strong but to the determined.

The call goes forth, Come to me, you who are weak and heavily laden, and I will give you rest. Life is full of changes. Peace and love are always the answers. Perception is not reality. Reality resides in the heart of the misunderstood and marginalized.

It is winter today. It happened overnight. The leaves are primarily on the ground. They create a colorful carpet. Nature’s time varies little; our time moves around. The pleasant autumn days of October are yielding to the winter chill. So it goes with our lives. Change is happening all around us. We live in the past while the future is knocking at the door. The news can make you anxious. Events at home have changed. Someone moved the goalposts. Without warning, the measurement of what it means to be an American is redefined by some in political power. It pays to keep your own counsel. Holding on to the thru line of truth is comforting. We can not always be a member of the in crowd.

A colleague asked me how I worked for so many years at the University. I responded a day at a time. And there you have it. It seems life must be lived with eyes on the road directly in front of us. Worrying about what is around the corner is futile. The cacophony of disparate voices is troubling. Many problems must be addressed by the problem holder. There is no magic bullet.

The Old Man walked through the Winter Woods. The brisk breeze blew. The limbs bowed and swayed in the wind. The autumn leaves held on for dear life. There was reason to be anxious if you are unacustomed to the Winter Woods. Many limbs did not have their leaf coats on. The sky looked like snow. Some gentlemen were hunting for coins beneath the ground. The metal finders beeped happily.

You see, we gear up and prepare for one phase of life and have no backup plan for the next chapter. Colleagues often told me that when they retired, they were going to sit in the rocking chair on the front porch. That sounded restful but not engaging. Other co-workers said they feared that if they retired, they would not live long. Their life was their work. A reason to be anxious, I think.

Serenity comes from a sense of place and purpose. When I meet people who feel compelled to tell me the great things they have done, I wonder why they are insecure. The Little Drummer Boy will be sung about soon. Follow your own Little Drummer Boy. Please, your smiling reflection in the mirror, not the boisterous crowd.

MJ and I were in St. Louis Thursday and Friday. The Christmas Trees were up at Plaza Frontenac. MJ wanted to visit the Paper Source on Ladue St. I first said I would wait in the Subaru, but she assured me I would want to come in. It was an Old World Christmas. Christmas paper and ribbons from a century ago. Unique Birthday Cards. Christmas Toys You Don’t See Every Day. It was a Christmas Hideaway that I could have spent the day in. I left with the Spirit of Christmas.

Then it was on to St. Charles, Missouri. Once the capital of Missouri. We walked the cobbledstone sidewalks and wondered if they were getting more uneven each year. We discovered our Christmas Nirvana in our favorite store. Someone is getting ready to receive some Victorian Christmas gifts. The Old Man got a little Nativity set. He was pleased as Christmas Punch.

The Christmas Spirit is waiting for us. My friend was lost, but now he is found is a tremendous Christmas Gift. Annalise brightened MJ’s and my day. Christmas is coming, and blessings are all around.

MJ commented that Wheel of Fortune was not on the Hotel Television, although it was posted on the TV Listings. I noted that this was one of the several inconsistencies I had observed since our arrival in St. Louis. I noticed that our regular waitress looked different and that the owner of the eatery seemed much older than the last time I had seen them. I postulated perhaps we had entered an alternate reality, and in this universe, Wheel of Fortune was not playing, and our favorite restaurant icons had changed somewhat. I carried the story further by suggesting that Mylo, our Maltese, might be Malcom, a Brischon Frieze, when we returned home. I like stories. Life presents to me in narrative or poetic form. Both are a joy.

I listened to the old couple sitting adjacent to us in Bartolinos on the Hill. The wife asked,’ Did Wife ask her husband? ‘Your memory is a bit worse but not too bad,’ the wife said.

‘The doctor did give me a memory test and I do not think I did not do too good, I think,’ the Husband said. ‘Memory tests are hard when you get older,’ the husband said. ‘I will help you with your infusion when we get home,’ the Husband promised.

‘You do not know what is required for an infusion,’ said the Wife. ‘I will have to do it myself,’ the Wife concluded.

‘I can help once you are all set up,’ the Husband said with assurance.

‘So it is Christmas and what have you done…another year older and a new one just begun.’We travel quickly, amazed by the children’s reactions to the Christmas Lights and Scenes. Our little eyes widen with the imminent expectation of Santa Claus and his reindeer. The years go by so swiftly, my dear. Soon we will be taking memory tests. We know the promise of Christmas. We have not forgotten…

‘

In 1965, a board game called Mystery Date was released. The television commercial jingle asked, ‘Are you waiting for your Mystery Date?’ Being eight years old in much of 1965, I was not yet ready for my Mystery Date. However, I recall that the girls in my class were eagerly anticipating the mystery. Girls advance faster than boys. After all, all we have to work with are snails and puppy dog tails. One of my female classmates wanted to discuss biology in the bushes on the way home from school. I was frightened and ran home.

The June Bugs are out in November. They are plentiful and proficient. The children played and hooped, hollered, and basically relished the fall afternoon at the Woods. They thought little of the Mystery Date. We prepare for Thanksgiving. In pursuit of turkey breasts. A time to relax and refresh. A look forward and a look back. I checked out the blo-molds of Mickey and Minnie Mouse Christmas figures. Close to $100 with tax. Santa will be fine alone again this year. The Holidays are on the Christmas Locomotive. They are chugging along with the coal furnace burning bright. Turn around once, and it will be over for 2025.

I laugh to myself when one political party succeeds over the other, and suddenly, they are geniuses and have the secret to success. The secret is we want to be seen and heard, cared about. We want our lives to have some of the burden lifted of arbitrary rhetoric. When we lose our livelihoods, we are desperate. Most of us live from paycheck to paycheck. Personalities matter little; results matter a lot.

‘I think you gentlemen will enjoy the journey we are about to embark on,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘We seek the Mystery Date where we shall discover the answer to life’s persistent questions, Mr. Badger proclaimed. ‘We have been recruited to perform in the Grand Play,’ Mr. Badger noted. ‘No one asked our agent if we were interested nor if we were available,’ Badger said with a sly grin. ‘We earned our place on stage by birth,’ Badger proclaimed. ‘We seek preparation for the Mystery Date,’ Mr. Badger smiled benevolently..

‘Shall I bring my spare spectacles to see the answer to the Secret that I have longed to understand my entire life?’ Mr. Mole asked. ‘I have read book after book and dusty volume after dusty volume not to find the answer to the Mystery Date,’ Moley said with a wry smile. ‘Mr. Toad is docking his boat on the riverbank and I am certain he would want to accompany us to the Mystery Date,’ Moley laughed.

‘Ahoy, mates,’ Toady called out. ‘A little bird told me that we are on a trek to find out the Mystery Date,’ Mr. Toad continued. ‘When will we know the Secret?’ Toady, dressed in a blue jacket and an ascot with a navy cap on his head, asked. ‘I have been a slave to the Mystery Date; it has ruled my going in and my coming out,’ Toady proclaimed. ‘I have advanced degrees from Oxford and have read history and English philosophy and religion there, yet I do not know the Secret,’ Today cried out. ‘I am a seeker and a watcher. I have spent my life in pursuit of the Myesery Date,’ Mr. Toad said with solemnity. ‘Ratty told me not to come, that I would be disappointed once again, but I said no, I must seek the Mystery Date and the answer to the Secret.’ Toady danced on one foot and then the other.

The Old Man walked in the autumn woods with determination. The players were there. Badger and Toad, Mole and even Ratty. The Sun shone in the sky. The leaves were yellow, green, and red. There was a golden hue. Life was golden. The promise was golden. The Mystery Date was golden.

Today was a leaf dance in the Woods. I had not seen anything to compare with the choreography. The fine art was so precious that I wished I could watch it forever. Of course, that will not happen. Soon, the leaves will all be on the Earth. The winter snow will come as a blanket for their slumber. So it goes for our human family as well. We shoot up through the soil and grow like a weed. Our branches reach toward heaven. Our roots dig deep in our sense of place. We toil and travail. Anxious for many things, we worry if all will be well. Will we succeed? Will we fail in our quest? Is there an escalator, or do we have to climb the ladder? Is the path every man for himself, or shall we help the weak and fallen? The leaves danced merrily as the classical Christmas music played. Their role in the great performance of life was concluded for the theatrical season. They had played their part well. There was much reason to bob and dance in the cool fall air.

Here we are on the walk of mystery. Never knowing what is around the corner. We look behind a lot. Is something catching up to us? What have we missed in the journey to the Secret? Were we daydreaming when the instructions were given? Those of us who appear to have it all together are often falling apart. We focus on appearances rather than substance. How do we look when we face the world? Do we have our masks on properly? ‘How are you?’ the Friend asked. ‘I am good and full of zeal for the journey,’ Masked Man says. ‘The constant smile of the mask reveals my success in life,’ Masked Man explains. ‘I have higher education and a six-figure income,’ Masked Man notes with some pride. ‘I worked hard to get to the pinnacle,’ Masked Man says with a wink that can not be seen for the static mask. ‘I did not want to be like my parents, who worked in service and thought not of higher goals,’ Masked Man said. ‘They wanted better for me and I fulfilled their expectations,’ Masked Man assured. ‘Now I am old and my degrees mean little as I shuffle to the grave,’ Masked Man beamoaned.

The neighbor’s cat walked languidly to the house. The cat thought of dinner and the occasional mouse. He worried not what tomorrow would bring.

‘Health is a bitch when you do not have it,’ Sick Woman said. ‘My son counts on me and I wonder if I will be there to provide for him,’ the Sick Woman worried. ‘When hope and success are at their zenith, illness comes in to spoil,’ the Sick Woman noted. ‘My colleagues scamper about me, wondering if they have on the right outfit or are in line for the next promotion, while I worry about life,’ SW said. ‘What does my journey mean in the grand performance?’ Sick Woman asked.

‘I am the CEO and a self-made man,’ Captain of Industry said. ‘My wiles have brought me this far,’ Captain said. ‘While others were enjoying their families, I was building a company that could not be destroyed,’ Captain noted. ‘I worked 18-hour days and often around the clock to gain millions of dollars,’ Captain proclaimed. ‘There were many who did not succeed in my company, but it was on account of laziness and sloth,’ Captain explained. ‘Now I have gained the prize and no one is watching,’ Captain whispered.

The leaves swirled in the wind in unusual patterns. At times they fell in mass, other times just one or two. They seemed to dance arbitrarily. Yet there was a method to the performance. The Woods were quiet except for the sound of the wind. The conductor was conducting. The leaves knew their part.

The fall leaves are resplendent. They have outlasted my birthday week. I never tire of taking photos of them. They are new every day. Autumn leaves give me peace. Baseball is over for a while. It will be back soon. I was for the Blue Jays since I felt an affinity with their name. Holidays are here. We will be erecting the Christmas Tree later this month. I am in my element. The cool weather is perfect for my Outback Leather Hat and a jacket or sweater. Comfortable clothing for an old man who once was young. I eschewed the ball caps and stocking caps of my youth as soon as I was able to buy my own headgear. Neva J dressed me in funny-looking hats. Often it was what we called in those halcyon days a Navy Cap. If it was not for the Navy Cap, it was the hat that had ear flaps. The ear flaps snapped under my chin. I recall my first hat that had a semblance of a bill. It was a fuzzy what I called a Russian hat, and I loved it. They were popular in the 70s. Of course, Leisure Suits were popular in the 70s, but I never owned one. I never owned bell-bottom trousers, but I did have a pair of elephant leg pants. I liked the look and think they should return to men’s fashion. Navy Uniforms had bell-bottom trousers.

Words change things. The Bible tells us that God spoke the world into existence. Words heal and harm. A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver, according to the scripture. A few words spoken in haste can destroy the confidence of many. Political leaders are afraid that a word spoken against the Emperor will result in their downfall.

I read a scripture passage yesterday, as I do four times a year. My friend Marta thanked me as I left the sanctuary after the service. My heart was warmed. The Bible admonishes us to be as wise as a serpent and as harmless as a dove. Easier said than done. Another admonishment is to let our yey be yey and our neigh be neigh. ‘In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin, but he that refraineth his lips is wise.’I wish I had followed this wisdom more.

We are fellow travelers on the road back to Jerusalem. We come from many places. Representing all colors of the Rainbow, we walk with steady and halting steps. It is time to have the landscaper trim the plants and bushes for winter. We settle our hearts for the Advent of Christ. He teaches us to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. No prerequisites or qualifying stipulations. No political party affiliation required.