Cumulus clouds are covering our skies. The temperatures are a bit cooler and there has been some rain and there is more in the forecast for the latter part of the week. I wrote of the great closet clean-out earlier and one of my fellow bloggers mentioned that I was either, ‘very early for spring cleaning or very late.’ I think that both measures equally apply. I was reminded of the old radio show, Fibber McGee and Molly, and Fibber’s closet. The show regularly depicted Fibber opening his closet door and a thunderous crash ensuing as the pent up contents were released on to the hall floor. The popular radio program ran from 1935 – 1959 and starred, Jim Jordan and Marian Jordan. The Jordans were, ‘a husband and wife team that had been working in radio since the 1920’s, according to Wikipedia.

Bob Hope was a comedic icon to me when I was growing up. Mom loved Bob Hope. He was an extraordinary comedian as well as performing in several feature length films. He and the singer Bing Crosby, along with the actress Dorothy Lamour starred in what was commonly referred to as the ‘Road Pictures.’ Where Bob captivated my imagination as a child and young man was his yearly traveling to perform for our troops in Vietnam. Mr. Hope began performing for soldiers stationed overseas during World War II and continued for 50 years visiting armed service personnel across the planet.

So today I was able to order from Etsy a GI Joe Action Figure that is fashioned to look like Bob Hope that is from the early 1990’s. I recall the resurgence of the foot tall GI Joe Action Figures of the 90’s as it was reminiscent of the original GI Joe figures of the mid 1960’s. I was an Action Figure fan in the 60’s…but I never possessed an actual GI Joe…but rather his less expensive cousin…Stony. But, now, Bob Hope is coming my way and he will be the fifth of my GI Joe collection which is comprised of 3 miniature GI Joes from the latter 1990’s and one full size figure.

Increasingly I am drawn to vintage toys. You have heard of the second childhood…

Sunday greeted me with a closet full of clothes and boxes and photos that looked similar to the results of an earthquake. Everything was in a large and ominous pile in the middle of the floor. Immediately I understood what I would be doing for our Sunday relaxation. Luckily, Jonathon was graciously assisted me. A shelf had fallen…from 20 years of strain. During the massive clean -up measures I discovered items that I felt were long lost. There was a photo of Chancellor Wendler and I…and I had almost no grey hair. Along came my missing pocket watch that Grandpa Earl had gotten one for each of us, Aaron and Jonathon and I…in the 1990’s. I was preparing to discard a University of Illinois folder when Jonathon cautioned me that I did not want to relegate that folder to the bin…as it had his mom’s grade school diploma inside of it.

MJ witnessed Jonathon and my good work and decided that she and I should continue today in our noble effort of cleaning out the master closet. I discovered TV Guides when they were still small and informative magazines. There was a Southern Illinoisan Newspaper that’s headline proclaimed that Obama Wins. I traveled in time as I read documents that I had been a part of writing such as the Civil Service Excellence Study and The Building Services Handbook and the Building Services Operations Manual. Suddenly…my long missing binoculars that I had received as a gift from Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale for 20 years of service. And…of course…my trench coats that I took great stock in as they covered my suits and sport coats in the winter’s wind and frost. MJ found a dress that she had worn when she was 16. She found other garments that she had worn in the weddings of others when she was in her 20’s.

When I see an old photo or discover an old newspaper clipping or headline or inspect a garment that I have not worn in many years…I remember what I was thinking and doing and wishing and hoping for…when I was living through the time of the item that has been not thought of…for many years. I was immersed in those times…and little else mattered at those moments…now they are but a fond memory and many of the values that were so important at those times have been replaced by subjects that are pertinent to the present chapter of my life. I loved my black three quarter length coats. They were expensive and I perceived that I looked the part of my role as a manager when I was wearing them. In even earlier days I coveted leather jackets and leather coats. A leather coat…to me….was the epitome of being well dressed. I had spent much of my youth and early adulthood not being well dressed…and I enjoyed not looking shabby and disheveled. I came from the generation that you were not supposed to leave the house without you shirt tucked in and your hair combed.

I have saved a lot of items…and never looked at them since… Things that I was certain that i was going to peruse and enjoy on a regular basis…I have forgotten. As we age we change. New chapters in our lives bring with them…different priorities. For many years I sought the approval of leaders at SIUC and the protection of my wonderful staff at Building Services. If any of them suffered…I suffered. I worried and fretted about my charge and the people that were counting on me 24/7 and 365 days per year. My University and it’s welfare were never far from my thoughts. I was constantly planning and staging ways that Building Services could enhance its role in the most vital of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale’s needs…the recruitment and retention of our most precious students. I have noticed…with great sadness… of late…that the recognition of the hard working and supremely dedicated Civil Service Staff does not seem to be the critical priority in administration’s long term planning? Perhaps I have misunderstood…or as the saying goes, ‘The proof of the pudding…is in the eating.’

MJ and I had a lovely trip to St. Louis this past Thursday and Friday. We enjoy staying at the Drury Inn which has a complimentary breakfast and dinner as well as 3 complimentary drinks during their Happy Hour. Probably the highlight of the two day event was eating lunch on Friday at Bartolino’s Osteria on The Hill. It is next to the Drury Inn. We have been fans of St. Louis for many years and have had physicians in the city for 8 years. Each time that MJ received a good medical report…I feel euphoric and we subsequently celebrated with a glass of wine at the restaurant. Having had many years of giving little thought to medical issues…I came to realize early in our retirement that health issues had become a new reality in our mix of travel and fun and the freedom of not having to report to work each day. Such is life with its unique mixture of laughter and tears and mountains and valleys…often united in the same experience.

Practical Christianity is the faith that is closest to my heart. Not the faith community that espouses that all of the world is in darkness and that there is only a select few of God’s creation that are worthy of saving and therefore are his children. The exclusive christian clubs remind me of the elite and insular social clubs of the rich and famous. The belief that the door is only open to a certain ethnicity or members of a preferred social hierarchy is at odds with the message of Jesus. When we exclude others…we exclude ourselves.

My friend, John, described a good breakdown of two segments of churches in the United States. One would be people who are seeking fulfillment of themselves and a faith walk that enriches them…but have little interest in reaching outside of their faith community. The other group are primarily focused on putting legs and hands and feet to their following of Christ by assisting those in need. It seems to me that the ideal church is a mixture of people energized by the gospel and thus are compelled to reach out to those who need a helping hand.

The magical appeal of Jesus message is that it resonates with the highly educated and those who have little education. It brings the rich and the poor together to break bread and learn of each other. Practical Christianity sees the multitude of humanity as God’s children…and as when Jesus fed the five thousand…all God’s children got to eat…

Today I have had two brief conversations with friends regarding summertime. My buddy, Jeff, wanted to know how the ‘Old Guy’ was holding up in the humidity and heat. I responded that I preferred lukewarm…and he replied, ‘Like bathwater.’ Indeed I have never been a fan of summer but I have learned to appreciate it as it is a full fourth of our year. I remember no air conditioners in the house that I lived as well as no AC in the cars that I drove. It was so hot and humid even at night…that sleep alluded me…and I was a kid who could sleep 10 hours without realizing that the time had passed…until I awakened. My step-father, Earl, told me to crack my window just a few inches and he would place a box fan in the kitchen window and put the settings on exhaust to facilitate cool air coming in through the 5 inch opening of my bedroom window. As I placed my face directly in front of the crack…I awaited the cool air. None was forthcoming…and I finally fell into a fitful and unrestful sweaty half-sleep. A welcome respite was a rain storm that would drop the temperatures several degrees and that came with its own cool wind. But as most summer rains…it was temporary…and then returned the more humid and hotter heat of a night in Little Egypt.

A Belair 1957 Convertible is a pleasure to ride in at any stage of your life. Nothing was more fun than mom and I and my cousin, Brenda, and my friend, Jackie, loading up into our Chevrolet and letting the rag top down and enjoying our hair flying and the the feeling of total abandon and carefree as we made our way to Pounds Hollow Pond to swim. Pounds Hollow had the longest stone stairway from the parking lot to the picnic area and bathhouse. We would pay a few cents for a metal basket to place our clothes in and proceed to the changing room. The grassy beach was on a hill facing the cool and inviting water. Once in the water…I was transported to another world. No longer did I notice the oppressive heat of a Southern Illinois summer…it was replaced with the cool environs of the Hollow’s lovely lake water. Pounds Hollow was a timeless experience. I was never a strong swimmer…but I loved to float. If you have eve floated you know that your ears are in the water and you can not hear most of the sounds around you. The Pond had a safety rope for we swimmers to not cross…but when I was floating…I crossed all the way to the far bank of the body of water. It really was just me and the water…being one…

Nice, France is a lovely old city. During our month in Europe in 2014 we spent a week with our dear friends, Margo and Jeff. We did a lot of walking…and it was hot…Mediterranean sun… I became more tanned by the day. I decided that I required a hat. I had forgotten to pack one of mine for the journey. As a part of our many walkabouts we searched for hats. Finally we found a hat store where MJ and I both purchased a French bonnet. Mine was a bit of a bucket hat. It was white and possessed a little brim on the front and curled up in the back. MJ bought a hat with a large brim and a wonderful blue color. It looked very French…and she appeared to be a French girl wearing her new headgear. Our friends flat was very near the ocean and we walked up and down the promenade on a daily basis. The beach was comprised of stones…not for the barefooted. Jeff and I enjoyed many cigars along the popular walkway. I wanted he and I to experience a Cohiba Cigar from Cuba. Although there was an embargo on them in the United States…they were freely sold in France. And, so, I purchased 4 for us and we lit up. Jeff looked at me with a look of pain and illness as he puffed away. I subsequently took a long drag on the famous and prized cigar that had been expensive…but nothing to good for my lifelong friend…and it tasted terrible… After a while Jeff asked if I minded if he did not finish his…and I agree that something was amiss with the tobacco.

Rome in 2011 was hot. We had all been a part of my and MJ’s retirement cruise. Our plane had landed at Leonardo Da Vinci airport and Bob’s Limo Service took us to our Hotel Monte Carlo. I had worn my flat Irish Woolen Cap that I purchased in St. Charles, Missouri a few years prior. It was hot and my head was subsequently hot…and a bird pooped on my hat on the first day of our Rome walking tour after we had returned to the city following our Mediterranean Cruise. The Cruise had afforded us a lovely lunch with Margo at Nice as a part of a land excursion. She and MJ and Jonathon enjoyed some Gelato at a nearby stand before we had to return to our ship. We travelled from Rome to Assisi, which is the home of St. Francis, and it was scorching hot. There was a lovely couple on the bus with us. The gentleman was from Brooklyn, New York and the lady from Israel and a former member of the Mossad. They bought us wine at our luncheon and I had to scurry to buy the lovely lady a pastry at Assisi. Our tour guide was tired. He spoke to us in three languages on the many hours of bus riding…but when we got off the bus to climb an extremely long hill to tour an old church…he told us that…’There is the church…I will be under the tree….’ A woman from South Africa berated our guide…non-stop to Assisi and back to Rome. She told him that she had overseen the tours for all of South Africa…and that he was doing it wrong… Our deflated guide simply replied, ‘Madam…Madam…Madam.’ In Tunis, Tunisia I had tipped our wonderful tour guide a 10 Euro note. MJ instructed me that we were not made of money and that I would have to leave no more than half of my over generous tip from now on. When we departed the bus…after our long journey and the added benefit of the constant haranguing of our tired and deflated and defeated tour guide….MJ gave him a 10 Euro note…she noted that she felt sorry for him…

Well, I dropped off the old television set this morning at Southern Recycling in Carbondale. We had it 7 or 8 years…and it died…or as the New Zealand actress Fern Southerland often said in the detective series we watched that was set in New Zealand… when she came upon another dead body…’He’s deed.’ I telephoned the owner of the Recycling establishment and asked him how I should deliver the ‘Deed television?’ He said just pull into the building and leave it…’You give us nothing and we give you nothing.’ I then understood as I have been party to such an arrangement on several occasions. Still, I felt a bit like a unsavory person leaving my junk on another persons doorstep.

Years ago, before I retired, MJ told me that for my birthday that year I could purchase several vintage toys that I had enjoyed as a child. She had often heard my lamentations regarding my mom burning… in the prescribed burning barrel…all of my toys and comic books and even vinyl records after I moved away from home at the mature age of 17. Now to give mom her due she did tell me on more than one occasion that I should come to Eldorado and retrieve my childhood treasures or she was going to dispose of them. I had the Western Action figures of Johny West and his sidekick Chief Cherokee. I possessed the army soldier, Stony, who was a knock off of the more popular GI Joe figures. I had a detective with multiple disguises. My buddy, Jackie, had my most coveted Action Figure, Daniel Boone based on the actor Fess Parker who portrayed Mr. Boone on a weekly television series. I could not find Daniel Boone at the Ben Franklin Dime Store. He was similar to my army man, Stony, in that his legs were in a fixed position and not like the fully articulated GI Joe figures. So I set about ordering not 1 or 2 but 3 Daniel Boone figures from EBay. They were not cheap. They were for retail sale in the early 1960’s. That is when I wiled away many Saturdays with my friend Jackie Brooks at his home in Parrish Addition in Eldorado, Illinois. Jackie knew that I wanted to play with his Daniel Boone action figure. He withheld him from my hungry grasp. He looked just like the actor, Fess Parker, and I was amazed at the resemblance. My cousin, Billy, had a Rifleman figurine riding a horse…that I coveted because the Rifleman was fashioned after the actor who portrayed the Rifleman…Chuck Connors.

Jonathon revealed to me, last night, that my prized Daniel Boone action figure was broken. He had lost an arm and the arm was broken. We feared it was the house cleaners…but accidents happen. Today I glued his arms onto his body and his broken wing back together. He is almost 60 years old. We folks in our 60’s require repairs and mending. Daniel has followed me for the majority of my life…we old folks have to stick together…

Mike Hazzard is the name of action figure with many disguises from the 1960’s. He is on sale on Ebay for $449.00. I have been collecting the small GI Joes at Electric Larry’s here in town. They hale from the 90’s. Today I ordered from Etsy an antique GI Joe from the 60’s. I love vintage and antique toys…

It has been a lovely 4th of July. Yesterday was Rib Eye steaks and MJ’s, ‘To Die For,’ baked beans. Today was pizza from Quatros…which is always a delight. It sounded like a genuine battle outside our house last evening as the fireworks were detonated in loud succession. As I watched some of the holiday festivities in Washington D.C. I was reminded of what a difference a year makes. If our Pandemic has taught us anything is has taught us that nothing is guaranteed. Freedom of travel and celebration and assembly…can be altered by the fear of death from a horrible virus. The poor of the land have always known that life is frail and tenuous and as Thomas Hobbs in his Leviathan, ‘No arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.’

So, we cherish our lives and they have become sweeter as we see them through the prism of what they were and could be again. I heard the singer, David Crosby, say that when there is so much information to assimilate it is difficult to synthesize it to a useful product. However when much of the static of modern life is removed we tend to focus more clearly on what matters for our happiness and peace of mind.

Sameness and repetition tends to dull our senses to the reality that our lives can changes in the blink of an eye. But…just like they sometimes change for the worst…they also change for the better. We find ourselves in such a wonderful world…that is full of love and laughter and real experiences and not…canned laughter. If you are a television viewer you have heard canned laughter. This is laughter that is added to comedies and other programs to facilitate the illusion that there is a studio audience that is laughing at the comedic activities and hijinks. At times we have our own form of canned laughter that governs our actions and lives. We like to run with the crowd and be a member of the gang. To stand out and to be different is painful to our innate sense of fitting in and not making waves. We hear the canned laughter all around us in our daily lives and we laugh along…without understanding the joke…

Freedom of thought and purpose and religion and speech…are some of our most precious values…until they do not mesh with the governmental or religious or academic power structure. There is a Quantum Physics theory that we are all members of a computer program and therefore are busily going about our assigned roles in the desktop game of Earth and its inhabitants. Perhaps that is where deja vu comes from….old players that have been assigned new roles…and we still have a dim memory… Alexa from Amazon…according to news reports…has been waking people up in the morning….with a hideous laugh…

Last year at this time…we were peering out of our windows and hiding from our Pandemic. We not only did not gather for a traditional 4th of July but also Labor Day and Thanksgiving and Christmas…and that is the big one for us. What a difference a year makes. Traffic is in full force and the grocery stores are full of happy customers. I am going to bring down from our loft our Uncle Sam statue made by the artist Tom Clark…and display it proudly. Sunday we are cooking on our grill Rib Eye Steaks and enjoying the freedom of living without the pervasive fear of Covid 19.

Our church opens it’s doors to the congregation and the public for the first time in 16 months…this Sunday. This is probably my biggest joy for this 4th of July. For the term of the Pandemic our little congregation has weathered the storm with grace and dignity and dedication to attending Zoom Church. Pastor Kerry and the Session have been steadfast in facilitating the worship of First Presbyterian Church @ Carbondale with wit and ingenuity and love for the people of our faith community.

As a youngster I could procure snakes and sparklers and little else in Illinois due to firecrackers being against the law. However, there were always some to be had…if you knew the right people. Also, Cherry Bombs and M80’s and other dangerous noise makers for the holiday. We would usually watch the town fireworks display from my Grandma Askew’s front porch. She had a bird’s eye view of the Starlight Drive Inn…where the show was displayed. We would look on with dismay and marvel at the brilliant fire show in the sky. I do not recall pondering the birth of our nation…but I thought that the fireworks were very cool… The 4th of July seems to me to be the mid-point of summer. Of course it is not…but summer seems to slip away quickly after the 4th. Really, the measure of the rulers that we use to determine the length of our human celebrations and holidays…are all short. It is no doubt due to the fact that our time in this life…is not long. Everyday is a holiday if you are alive and have your health and someone who cares about you.

I throughly enjoyed spending many 4th of July holidays with by buddy Ron and his family. He always went all out to make us feel welcome and and I recall his supreme effort to ensure that his daughter, Tara, was having an enjoyable time and that the fireworks show that he was in charge of…was to die for… One fact that was crystal clear to me on each 4th when we visited Ron and Mary Jane…was that they adored their daughter and our niece…and their love was palpable.

We are the destination for the persecuted and the oppressed and the, ‘Wretched refuse of your teeming shores,’ we are the sanctuary for the marginalized and the unwanted and those who have no voice… Every time that I hear the Star Spangled Banner…tears come to my eyes… Liberals and conservatives…both love this country…and we will both celebrate the many gifts of our shared nation…this Sunday…

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.’ There is little that is more pleasant than to be lead by a happy leader. Over the past 50 years I have experienced what it feels like to be led in both a work setting and a faith community by an unhappy leader. The dismal demeanor of the leader spills over onto the entire group. When a manager or supervisor or pastor are unhappy and in doubt of who they are and their mission of leadership…the people suffer.

Once I had a pastor who did not want to be a pastor. I know this because he told me so. This person, who I was fond of, felt insecure and was threatened by several in the congregation. Much of what he said in the pulpit was colored by his unsure feelings in the pastorate and pride. Subsequently the church members heard a plethora of doom and gloom Sunday sermons.

A manager who I worked closely with for many years felt that most people were against him and therefore were out to get him. He saw a monster around every corner and thus became very insular and combative. This man had a lot of ability…but he could not be convinced of it. He felt that he was accomplishing the foremost duties of a manager when he had the majority of the staff upset and mad. He told me on more than one occasion that when people are mad…they work harder. I noted many years ago that when an administrator or manager told me, as Chicken Little of the fairy tale proclaimed, ‘The sky is falling,’ more often than not it was falling for them…and they had extrapolated their dismal dilemma to the entire department. Leaders make the primary mistake of leading from their own complex emotions and egos. Freud told us how powerful the ego is in our decision making. It requires first an understanding of your emotions and a clear delineation of your personal life from your professional life…to lead when you are troubled or sad…or mad.

One of the character attributes that I appreciate regarding our pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Carbondale is his happy leadership. I have worked with pastors since I became a christian in 1969…and I have an attuned eye for a happy leader. Kerry projects a can do attitude that is sprinkled with humor and an accessible communication style. That is saying a lot for a leader when I can remember faith leaders who when I saw them…I went the other way.

I believe that Chancellor Lane of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale is a happy leader. Nothing is more vital or important to the success of our great University. I have witnessed happy leaders at SIUC…and their attitude was infectious. We knew that we not only could talk with them…we knew that they were listening to us. We understood that we Building Service Workers and we Grounds Workers…and we Food Service Staff…were important and essential to the mission of our School…and that our Chancellor needed us….

It is another hot day in Little Egypt. It appears that much of our nation is under a heat dome and thus unprecedented temperatures. As I was taking my daily walk on Campus it felt a bit like a sauna. Tomorrow would have been Neva June’s 93rd birthday. I have heard her state that her birthday was on June 29th, 1928 many times. Once…after I had moved away from home I missed calling her on her birthday…and there was no consoling her and no excuse that was sufficient for my great transgression. Nevertheless…I never forgot again. Mom loved her birthday…I think I must get my habit of relegating my birthday to holiday status…from her. She had nine siblings. She spoke of them on almost a daily basis as if they still were children. One of her sisters died in early childhood, Rosebud, and she missed her and thought of her often. I was born when Mom was 30 years old. I am 63 and she is 93. Mom loved almost everyone that she met. You understood if you were one of the few that she did not appreciate.

Neve June had been raised in the Pentecostal faith…along with her entire family. She had left the church…or what was termed as ‘Back Slid,’ and she desperately wanted to renew her christian faith. If you were downtrodden or in need or hungry or poorly clad…Mom would help you without thought as to her own means or resources. If my Mom had 2 dollars…1 dollar was yours. She befriended the marginalized of Eldorado, Illinois. The poor and disenfranchised people that others made fun of…Mom loved and helped. There was one elderly lady called, ‘One Eye,’ due to her having one eye…that Mom took to the market and to the doctor and welcomed into our home. Another was, Rosy, who talked to herself sometimes and who distrusted most people..but she loved Neva June. Mom by her actions illustrated to me what it meant to be a christian…more than any church ever will.

Mom was so happy to return to church attendance and a faith community in 1969…just after her mother, Grace, passed away. Later she came to live with us in 2001…and attended our church, First Presbyterian, and sang the hymns with gusto and reverence…in spite of her Alzheimer’s Disease. MJ took such good care of her…making her Malto Meal for breakfast and ultimately bathing her and caring for her every need. One morning when Mom and I were pulling out of our driveway on the way to take her to the Adult Senior Care…she saw MJ in the door waving at us and she remarked that she was so pretty…’The Little Dutch Girl.’

Neva June enjoyed kicking up her heels in her youth. She liked to go to Honky Tonks and drink slow gin fizzes. She had no hidden side. What you saw was the genuine article. She worshipped her mother. She almost succumbed when she and my dad divorced. She blamed herself for the rest of her life. She and dad were a World War II couple. The moved to Chicago to find work…and that is where I was born. We lived a happy life…until we did not. Mom enjoyed doing the Twist to Chubby Checker’s dulcet tones. She loved to visit with her best friend, Ivy, who smoked one Salem cigarette after the next. Ivy had a husband named, Bob, who was primarily silent…as Ivy did all of the talking. Ivy and Bob had 2 children, Susie and Steve, I had a crush on Susie and she hugged me every chance that she got. She was a bit older than me. Mom looked at dad with reverence…but she was fiercely jealous of him. He was a good looking gentleman with wavy hair and a devilish grin.

At Shawnee Christian Nursing Home it was often difficult to find Neva when I came to visit. I would finally find her pushing another resident in a wheel chair…or visiting another peer in their room that was far removed from her own. She told me that she did so much for the old folks that the Nursing Home wanted to hire her…but she did not want to be committed to full time employment.

Caution is advisable in a world full of risks. Thinking twice…and perhaps three times is a good thing before proceeding on a new or different venture. I was listening to the Reverend Al Sharpton, recently, who said that he had advised a group to be careful to realize the gains that had been attained and to not let rhetoric obscure reality. I was reminded when I, on behalf of the Civil Service Council representing nearly 2,000 civil service staff…requested from university administration that Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale close its doors, on Veteran’s Day, in honor of our precious veterans. This discussion had been going no-where for over 20 years until we asked for simply the University to recognize the sacrifice or our veterans, both living and dead, as well as the 100’s who were part of the University Community to be afforded a day off of work to reflect and pray and remember their fallen brothers and sisters. Having heard the contention that we just wanted another day off… we noted that to recognize the holiday when it occurred Monday – Friday would be a wonderful consideration for our Campus.

Success is incremental. Whether in a public setting or our private lives. Sometimes we feel like Jerry Seinfeld from his popular show in the 90’s. Jerry noted in an episode that when he pops the top on a can of soda…all he hears is the fizz and is provided a sweet drink. The soda did not produce the beautiful women or parties or surfing or ecstatic fun…that he had observed on commercials on television. Advertisement and the exuberance of lofty speeches and super heated emotions…can be a significant let-down to concrete reality of moving forward in a positive direction. A good example of a recent positive compromise is the bi-partisan infrastructure bill.

Carefulness was a recent hallmark of a life well lived in our country. After WW II our veterans came home and married and went to university on the G.I. Bill. They had risked their lives…and seen many of their friends die…and observed the devastation across Europe and the United Kingdom…and they were careful with their lives…and their loved ones…and their money…and their time. My and MJ’s parents knew what it was like to be hungry and jobless and without much hope during the Great Depression. When they emerged from the other side of the economic calamity…they saved their money…they abhorred debt…they looked askance at hucksters and snake oil salesmen. They verified…and then they trusted.

Skepticism is a health emotion…when lies are being told as truth.