Coal was a mainstay in my homes while I was growing up. The very warm heat came from either a coal furnace or a fireplace or a wood stove. Although I think that we probably had a natural gas furnace in Chicago. Have you ever shook down clinkers? How about having the nightly chore of loading two or more buckets of coal with a little shovel to bring into your home each night in order to ensure that the fire burned, at least some, thru the wee hours? When we first moved to Eldorado, Illinois we lived in a vast, Gothic, house that was across the street from the High School. There was a decrepit coal furnace in the basement, if you had the courage to to go down the rickety stairs, and a massive fireplace in virtually every room. The first morning that I awoke I looked to see if there was a icicle hanging from my nose. Mom announced that dad was just starting a fire in the living room fireplace and that I might want to venture in front of the budding fire…first to warm my front…and then my back. She noted that he had thus far had no success with the coal furnace in the haunted basement.

When MJ and I first were married we concocted the brilliant idea of purchasing a wood stove to replace the bell shaped stand alone fireplace that was surrounded by two brick walls…that had been installed by the previous owner. It was in the 1970’s and with inflation and the high cost of gas for our forced air furnace…we knew that we were doing the most economic heating for our little family. Once the old was removed and the new installed…I proceeded to order a truck load of wood. I purchased a maul…and I learned how to use it…and enjoyed it…when all was going as planned. The secret to good use of a maul is the proper striking of the wood. Hit it in the wrong spot and all is lost…hit it in the sweet spot and it splits like hot butter. You could smell the fragrant aroma of wood smoke all over our neighborhood. ‘Wood warms you twice…once when you cut it…and again when you burn it.’ After the singular season of the maul and the adventure of the wood heat…we decided to purchase a new gas furnace. Now, we wood burners know that you must clean your chimney from time to time if you are going to enjoy the warmth of wood burning…creosote builds up on the walls of the chimney and ultimately will block the escape of toxic gas or carbon monoxide. I had been burning a product that was supposed to alleviate creosote build up…but I was not confident. Before we engaged the new furnace we had our installer look at the cleanliness of our flu…and found that it was totally stopped up. Family’s have died from just such a problem. I wished that I had the Chimney Sweep character in Mary Poppins that was portrayed by the brilliant, Dick Van Dyke.

You know I mentioned how cold the house was on Illinois Avenue in Eldorado…I did not mention that it was haunted. The noises and shadowy specters that I heard and saw…were a frigid and frightening change from the nice suburban home that we had in Sauk Village. Fireplaces and waking up cold and things that go bump in the night…were a new world. Everything about the big ghost house seemed cold. We all sat on the large rap-around porch and watched the Eldorado Eagles play football…and it was cold. I slept in a utility room…that was pitch dark. For a considerable time mom and dad and I lived with my aunt Wanda and uncle Bill and my cousins…Brenda and Billy. Brenda walked with me to Hillcrest School and back home at the end of the day. She was in the 8th grade and I was in the 1st.

When I was in Junior High we moved to the country. Our heat was a combination of Propane gas and a coal stove that sat next to the kitchen. We left the thermostat very low on the gas furnace that was fed by the propane tank in our back yard. Propane was expensive and it went quickly. The primary heat was the little vintage coal stove. The method of operation was to fire it up until it was full of red hot coals…and then place a box fan pointed toward the dining room…to aid in the circulation of the cherry hot heat. I read my Bible at the kitchen table…and the pages curled up due to a temperature that I am sure was in the 90’s or exceeding 100 degrees. Very comforting on very cold nights…

Winter will return…

MJ and I were getting our oil changed in our new Subaru this morning…when I said, jokingly, that we should just go ahead and purchase another Subaru…since we had a 2007 Camry. She smiled a wicked smile… I thought little more about it until the Service Manager came out and said that our Subaru Limited was done with its oil change. MJ then mentioned that the had wanted to ask, Alex who is our salesman, if he had the Subaru Touring on the lot that she had seen advertised on the Subaru web-site. I said that I would go and retrieve our SUV and she was to search for, Alex. When I walked back into the sales room…there was MJ in the Manager’s office. They were in deep discussion regarding a Subaru Touring that was being shipped from Japan…and no interest payments for 36 months. The Touring also had a significant discount as well. Now plans were to purchase another Subaru in December 2022…but we are old and our discipline has aged with us…

Our Vintage Toyota Camry is being traded in. It is a 2007…and it has been a wonderful automobile. It has 93 thousand miles on it…it was owned by a little old couple in Carbondale, Illinois. I bought it a few months prior to my retirement in 2010. I purchased it gently used. Recently we put a $335 dollar 12 volt battery in it…everything is more expensive in a Hybrid automobile.

Our first new car was an LTD 2 door sedan. MJ had an old Ford Maverick and I had a 1963 Ford Fairlane…when we Wed in 1978. The drivers side floor board in my 63′ Fairlane had holes in it and the winter wind roared in as I took MJ on our first date. I had a board propped against the back of the drivers side seat and the other end of it against the bench seat in the back. If not the front driver’s side seat would fall into the back bench seat…making it difficult to drive the vehicle. On the same date, where I cavalierly took her to the Golden Bear Pancake House in Carbondale…she offered to drive her much more environmentally pleasant Maverick…I announced that we would go in my decrepit Fairlane…as I was the man in the invitation.

Life changes things….age changes things. I have been blessed to enjoy over 10 years of retirement…so far. That fact is not lost on me. Many people are never able to retire. I have been honored to live with a precious partner who is always looking out for my welfare. My sons are extraordinary and a constant delight and inspiration. People…as a rule…are nice and kind to me. I am humbled and honored by the affection that is shown me. MJ and I began our life together without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of… Many laughed…either to themselves or out loud and said, How could she be interested in that guy…it will never last…!’ But it has lasted for 43 + years…

Life’s Journey is a long and extremely winding road. The saddest times can turn into joy. The darkest of times have peace…hidden in them. It has been said that time heals all wounds…it really does… ‘Good things come to those who wait.’ ‘Hindsight is 20/20.’ I wrote, recently, of the chapters of life. Indeed…life has hidden narratives that we do not comprehend or understand…until we live their rich tapestry…

My dear friends, the Cheeks, are on holiday and their photos illustrate how much fun that they are having. They are going to the exact same places that we Brooks went to a llttle over a month ago. I am enjoying a second vacation…vicariously! As I peered at the pictures of the Silver Sands Premium Outlets…I shut my eyes and I was there again enjoying the wonderful weather and the great food and the peaceful atmosphere. Several years ago I adopted the European word for our term vacation…holiday. I love holidays… We are still anticipating Maine in September…and MJ and I both purchased luggage at the Tumi store that is in Elizabeth’s photos…for our next adventure. I literally could sit and stare at the ocean for hours on end. I can not think of anything that brings me more peace of mind and contentment and a sense of the Great Spirit.

Everywhere that I look…people are congregating and fellowshipping and enjoy their long lost friends and relatives…and fellow travelers on our mutual road of life! We have been hidden away from the Pandemic. It has been a life changing experience like none of us have known. Loved ones were lost to the deadly Virus. Our church will re-open on the 4th of July…after 16 months of being closed. We have witnessed the evil that lurks in the darkness and we rejoice that we have emerged into the light. The life lesson has been learned through tears and loneliness and fear…nothing should be taken for granted…nothing is guaranteed…nothing is forever…

Sorrow stalks us. Tears come too easily and too frequently. Loneliness is our steady companion. Health fails us. Friends move on. Loved ones die. Reversals of fortune…are common. So live… Damn It! Take the cup of life and drain it to its dregs… Enjoy the gift that you have been given…do not let fear or doubt or worry….be your commander!

Europe was so different than anything that I had ever done in my life. I had considered my goal of traveling as much as I could afford for my boys and MJ as a mission accomplished…during my working years. Upon my retirement, which I had never done before, I wanted to do something totally different. A Mediterranean Cruise was what I settled on as a door opening experience for my 53 year old personage. I had been told by a staff person in one of the shops aboard a cruise liner that we had taken a few years prior to my retirement that The Mediterranean Cruise was the premier cruise that a person could take. MJ and I planned for the great and life changing event. I took a significant portion of my sick and vacation accrued time that I had accumulated at the date of my retirement to pay for the event. One of our most anticipated meetings was with our dear friend, Margo, at our stop in Nice, France…for a luncheon date. I was like the kitten that said that he had not understood the world until his eyes were opened! Since that time in 2011 until now we have visited Europe and the United Kingdom 4 times and are planning a trip to Edinburgh, Scotland in 2022.

Do not wait for the right time to travel…now is the time!

Hot again in my neck of the woods. Temperatures in the 90’s and heat factors of 100 or more. Although it is a bit uncomfortable…but not unexpected. Summer comes every year at this time…and it is hot in Southern Illinois. The chapters of life, although we observe them in others…we do not live them but once…in this life. Also, we all relate uniquely to our interactions with our new chapters. As a young man I wanted to be a minister. My experience with Christ and the Christian faith had been the most exciting and energizing and inspirational encounter that I had ever experienced. During those early days of my faith I perceived that being a minister was the ideal way to help people. I did not know how…but I knew that I wanted to help others.

For most of my career at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale I was either in supervision or management/administration. I was honored and humbled by the numerous occasions afforded me to assist and help others. There are so many lonely and hurting people in the world. You may not realize it…but you are surrounded by them. The key to happiness…is helping others.

Life does not come with an Operations Manual. Problems and needs…and wants present themselves with an immediacy that is compelling and intoxicating. So often decisions that are made for short term gain…have long term consequences. Life’s chapters are best lived slowly and reflectively. As the old saying goes, ‘Anything worth doing…is worth doing well.’ What seems like a devastating loss today, or a missed opportunity that has irrevocable repercussions….you may have forgotten at this time next year.

We are accustomed to the rapid fire resolutions of our television programs. Everything gets resolved in either 30 or 60 minutes…with rapid scene changes. Real life does not work in such a Tommy Gun fashion…and the scene does not change…often. At times we imagine that our friends or colleagues are indulging in hidden agendas in regards to our work product or friendship or well- being…when in reality we have not crossed, their, busy, minds. Worry and supposition and half-truths mask our vision of seeing our future with a clear eyed understanding of where we have been and where we are going.

Our goals change as we move into the next chapters of our lives. Where once we worked 10 – 12 hours per day…and still did not feel that we had accomplished enough. Now we write and read and reflect and give the proper homage to…thinking. Rationale thinking that creates clear understanding…takes time…

Sunday has its own feel. It is a free and easy day filled with wonder and amusement and the seeking of hidden spiritual truths. I have been perusing potential Father’s Day gifts. A very enjoyable pass time. I love watches and knifes and I collect both. I bought for myself a wooden watch. It was $49.95 on Father’s Day Sale…for 12 more hours. I checked after 12 hours and my watch had been placed on sale again…for an additional 12 hours. Campus was a solitary experience this morning. The squirrels and I had an enjoyable visit. I have reflected recently regarding what Sunday meant to me when I was young and with two small boys and working 60 – 80 hours per week. First I was exhausted and MJ and Aaron and Jonathon were looking for some quality time with Dad. I was looking for sleep. In any case we were dedicated to church in the morning…unless we were running late…and then it was a Cracker Barrel Breakfast. If it was not a Cracker Barrel Breakfast…there was a Godfather’s Pizza Lunch. Often we visited the Carbondale University Mall…which was humming with activity. There were Swim Sundays at Cedar Lake and trips to Grandma and Grandpa in Eldorado…where the dinner would either be Dad’s Restaurant or Nemo’s Pizza. Grandpa Earl loved Nemo’s Pizza and he was a personal friend of Nemo, who was the owner. Grandpa told us story after story about Nemo, who he swore was from Poland, and his lively discussions with him. We had introduced Grandma Neva June to Franzia boxed wine. This was in the early 1990’s and MJ and I had seen on the CBS program, 60 Minutes, that the French consumed heavy food laden with cream sauces and yet were not troubled with cholesterol and the attribution to their health was red wine. We considered that if it was good enough for the French…it was good enough for the Brooks… So, Grandma followed us in our dedication to Franzia boxed red wine. She kept it on store for us…when we made our weekly visit. Neva June would happily announce to us that she had not touched the wine box since our last visit. She then proceeded to pour MJ and I a 12 ounce tumbler of fine Franzia red wine. I then removed myself to Earl’s easy chair and consumed the glass like a glass of water or milk. I was amazed at how I did not feel any ill effects from what was a significant amount of red wine. I felt so relaxed and at ease with myself and the world around me…that I thought…one more 12 ounce tumbler was just what the doctor ordered… Upon drinking the second tumbler of Franzia…I fell asleep. Suddenly I heard Earl announce that the Nemo’s Pizza had arrived. I began to stir…and I felt a bit out of body and slightly ill. I discovered that I was unable to consume any Nemo’s Pizza. I required significant sleep before returning to Elkville.

Many years ago I attended a non-denominational church in Elkville, Illinois that had an afternoon service and a night church service. In between the two service it was potluck dinner at the church. There were some fascinating delicacies at the church dinner that was eaten at some fold out tables and primarily in the pews. Old natives of Southern Illinois and one young person, me, enjoyed fried chicken and biscuits and gravy and apple pie and cherry cobbler…that was cooked in lard. I always felt full and content and a…little ill…after the repast. Sister Minnie Mae Hill was the Lord of the Feast…and her word was law. After attending a 2 to 3 hour afternoon service and a heavy dinner…it was difficult to remain awake for the Sunday Night Worship Service. Many songs were sung and numerous chorus were repeated. We departed that if not for our holiness…certainly for our fortitude…we were saved from the wrath to come.

Sunday is a day of peace. It is a day of reconciliation and repentance for wrong done against our brothers and sisters of our human family. Sunday is a day of joining hands and appreciating each other…as we walking back, together, to Jerusalem.

I have watched the HBO special David Byrne’s American Utopia several times. The most recent was this week. It is an inspirational Broadway performance. The first time that I viewed it I thought that I got it…for the most part…but I realized this week that I had only scratched the surface of a moving and heartfelt homage to humanity. Have you ever seen a performance that afterwards you realize that perhaps you have lived your life and…just not gotten the point…

Why are we here? Are we really here to compete in the race for who can accumulate the most money and power. Is life a point system? Is God siting on his throne watching to ascertain who among us is the best at the game of Capitalism? By the way…does God require a throne…to sit upon…or is that our construct of the creator of the…Game of Life?

Capturing inspiration…is inspirational… It is a bit like capturing sunlight and moonbeams and ecstasy of purpose and wisdom…in a bottle. Before you can screw on the lid…they have escaped once again…through the opening. Water is cool and refreshing and life giving…and it slips through our fingers… I have been inspired by many things in my life…and it is always magical. When I encounter the allusive wisdom…I know it…I feel it…and yet it is difficult to replicate.

Sadness surrounds us wearing it’s cloak of suffering and sorrow… We peer into each other’s tired eyes…and then comes the morning…

Hot, as Aaron said to his aunt when she took him in her car in the heart of the summer…he was around 2 years old. She quickly turned on the air conditioner for him. I feel like Aaron did on that sweltering summer’s day…HOT! It is 91 degrees but the heat factor is 100. It is so hot that I was relegated to walking in our mall rather than the campus of SIUC. Father’s Day is little more than a week away…and I am excited! There is nothing that I am more proud of than MJ and my sons, Aaron and Jonathon. They are a light and a joy for me. MJ and my life has revolved around them since the day that they were born. When Father’s Day comes around all I have to do is look at my boys…who are now men…and realize how blessed that I am.

I remember my father, who I was only with me for my first 5 years of life. He was a jovial man with a wide smile and devil-may-care demeanor. He carried a hand gun when it was not legal to do so…and he dressed like a mobster. He enjoyed filming 8 millimeter films of me and mom…and sometimes she would turn the camera on him…such as the time that he was riding my tricycle. Dad served in World War II in the Pacific. I was sitting on a medical table in front of three heart doctors and when the meeting was over he carried me back to the Volkswagen Van…and I saw a tear in bis eye. He loved for the three of us to go for road trips on his Harley Davidson Motorcycle. There was a little seat for me in the middle…and I thought that it was grand. He had a Jai alai set. The set consisted of a ball being bounced off of a wall, at high speeds, with a hand held wicker cesta. The cesta looks like a long narrow scoop. It was amazing to watch him play.

Father’s Day always warms my heart. The thought of it makes me smile. When I think of the little boy from Chicago…and now look into the mirror at the old man of Carbondale…I am delighted for the journey.

Road Trips are exciting. Jill and MJ and I were just reminiscing about driving across country on past vacations. I vividly recall our Great Western Holiday in the early 1990’s. I had recently purchased a vintage Mercury Marquis. When I put my foot on the accelerator…there seemed to be no end to the increased speed that the deep maroon mercury could attain. The automobile had plush velour seats and drove like a, Young Lincoln, as my friend Ben Mezo had described his Mercury Grand Marquis in the early 1970’s. We decided to point our noses west and see where they led us as we followed them. We began climbing Pikes Peak as we traveled on our great escapade only to discover that we could only drive half way up, due to snow on the higher elevations. We drove about 500 miles per day with the ultimate goal of visiting Aunt Lauretta and Uncle Merle…before returning home. MJ noted one morning that we were only a day or less drive from Southern California…I had always dreamed of visiting California…and so we proceeded with gusto. San Diego was simply beautiful and ocean and pier was some of my fondest memories. I purchased my first Bosson’s Head at a little shop at the San Diego Pier. If you have never seen a Bosson Head…you have not lived. Bosson was an English family owned business that made the most realistic chalk heads of different characters in literature and history. When you encounter one…you expect it to talk to you. Finally we arrived at Merle and Laurettas and Merle asked me if my car was new and I replied that I had purchased it used. He said that he had never had a car so fine or been able to afford it…Of course this was over the top rhetoric…but I received the point…Don’t be a show off.’ I was driving the Mercury a little faster each day of the 2 week odyssey. Through Utah…I did not see a police officer. In Colorado…i did not see a squad car. At times I was driving 90…95…100 miles per hour…and it was like floating over the road. We drove well in excess of 5 thousand miles on our western driving holiday…

So, the Brooks’ family were going to take a Harley Davidson Motorcycle road trip from Chicago. Of course this would be the first Brooks’ family…Neva June and Bill…and little Jay in the middle of them. The trek was to be all of the way to the home of my mom’s sister’s, Guelda and Wanda, and my Grandmother Askew. The better part of a six hour marathon…unless you drive like my dad. Dad wore a leather motorcycle jacket and a jaunty cap with a brim. he placed our luggage in his leather saddle bags…and our first stop was a truck stop along route #57. When we entered the restaurant and store combined mom and dad took a seat at the table and I began to look around. I immediately set my sights on some very interesting looking paper back books. I had not learned to read…much…but I literally loved books. I took a book back to the lunch table and announced to all that I was going to read the book over our lunch. Mom said, ‘You silly kid…that book is for sale and you must take it back to where you found it,’ and I was mortified as I thought that we were in a restaurant and library. When we arrived at Grandma Askew’s there were the aunts that hugged me like I was their favorite pet and Grandma with a piece of apple pie and a white coffee mug filled with cold milk. And Uncle Bill, Wanda’s husband, who stood and grinned like the Cheshire Cat of Alice In Wonderland and rhythmically moved his tongue between a gap in his lower teeth. Bill said, ‘How are you doing Junior,’ to my dad…and I wondered why he called him Junior. Then there was the visit with all where I discovered that Aunt Wanda and Uncle Bill had recently moved to Eldorado from Alaska…along with their children, Brenda and Billy…my cousins. I slept on the living room couch that had been made into a makeshift bed…next to Nugget…the dog…who did not like me and showed me his bared teeth in a wicked snarl…to ensure that I fully understood the arrangement. When I woke in the middle of the night to feel the opened windows cool country breezes of Southern Illinois…there was Nugget looking at me and smiling his toothy smile.

Talk ensued of the Brooks 3 moving to Eldorado…and it was in whispers and hushed tones…and the little Brooks was not supposed to hear…and mom seemed sad…and dad seemed sad.

Jeff just messaged me and remarked that there were a lot of things about Chicago that he liked. I feel the same way. Chicago was where I was born…it is indeed my home town. My father worked on semi tractor cabs and made good money. My clearest memory of my years in and around the Windy City was our living in Sauk Village…on a street that was reminiscent of the television show, Leave It To Beaver. I would watch the show and think that it reminded me of my street and my friends. Of my 5 years in Chicago we lived in the city for the first 2. I vividly recall the hustle and bustle of apartment living. Not as an active participant but as a observant toddler. There is a rhythm and a vibe to city life that is inspiring and exhilarating. However the bulk of my ‘Chicago Memories,’ come from Sauk Village.

For awhile it seemed that nothing could go wrong in our idyllic life that was patterned after the Cleavers on my favorite television program. On the weekends dad and mom barbecued in our backyard and had our neighbors, George and Helen, came over to enjoy the festivities with us. George called me ‘Doc’ and had me rub his back while he lay in an extended lounge lawn chair. Mom and Helen played badminton. They vigorously smacked the birdie back and forth over the outstretched net and laughed heartily when one or the other scored. Pabst Blue Ribbon was enjoyed by all…but me.

We decided to travel into the city to see the newly released Disney Movie, Lady And The Tramp, and Mom’s friend, Ivy, and her kids, Steve and Susie, joined us for the major event. As I looked at the lighted theatre marquee and all of the people and buildings that surrounded us…I knew that this would be an experience like no other. When the screen came alive and the theatre darkened I was transported into the world of the Darlings and Lady and her sweetheart…Tramp. After we left the movie and returned home…I ruminated on how wonderful it would be to live like Lady and Tramp and their canine friends did. The were unfailingly loyal to each other and never said a mean word about each other. They had adventure and fun and staid by each other through good times and bad. Whenever we hear a baby cry…MJ and I both say in unison, quoting the Siamese cats in Lady And The Tramp, ‘I hear baby cry’.

I was with my dear friends, Jim and Laura, several years ago, on a work related trip to Chicago. These two are such fun to go anywhere with! We began with drinks when we arrived…and of course mine was a Dirty Martini. We then enjoyed a wonderful dinner at a premier Italian Restaurant. The can-do spirit of Chicago was palpable. After this enjoyable trip I better understood why Chicago is the City With Big Shoulders…

Have you ever had Serrano Ham? I purchased one this afternoon at our local delicatessen. It has similarities with prosciutto. Our friend, Jo Ann, introduced us to the delights of prosciutto many years ago. It sells for $18.99 a pound. I told the nice young man to slice it thin. It was the second time that the deli butcher had waited on me in the past few days. The first time an old employee of the establishment was training him on the vagaries of slicing and packaging deli meats. Today he was on his own and presented himself with a smile and a mannerly welcome. First I ordered a half pound of prosciutto and then a pound of the Serrano Ham. He carefully cut and then packaged each order and subsequently apologized for being slow. I responded that, You are doing great, Man! He looked at me as if he had never heard such worlds of encouragement…before. The young deli professional said, ‘Thank you Man…have a good day!’ As I was departing Keepers Quarters I considered that all of us need time to learn and people who will not only have the patience to wait…but the words of encouragement that will provide us with the confidence that we so desperately need to succeed.

One of my blog followers mentioned that we each tend to become pigeon holed in our careers whether we realize it or not. I heartily agree. Many moons ago I was the custodial crew supervisor in Parkinson Lab on the Campus of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale. We worked the third shift. He was a graduate assistant in Geology. When he visited us, at our invitation, in our basement office…he commented that he was expecting to find Playboy Pin-Ups aligning our walls. One of the members of my Building Services Crew were a gentleman who had worked a career for a large cold cuts company, Blue Bell, and had driven a company automobile for his travel duties. Another member of my staff had been the Credit Manager for Martin Oil Company which was a multi-state petroleum corporation. We looked at the young graduate student with incredulity and dismay.

I have sat on more boards and committees than I can effectively remember. This includes Boards associated with the State of Illinois and Southern Illinois University and, for the last 50 years, church boards. More often than not I have felt pigeon-holed and categorized before I had the opportunity to open my mouth. So many times the leaders or moderators of committees expect the answers that they are looking for…from the historically accepted sources.

Judging future endeavors by our past experiences is…folly. This is especially true when there are people of good will who have not spent their lives attempting to, ‘Blow their own horn, as regarding their accomplishments. Jesus was born of ordinary people. He had neither a Harvard or a Yale degree. His dad was a carpenter and his mother a young humble girl. Money nor degree nor riches…nor familial position equals wisdom… If Jesus came to visit the majority of our churches this afternoon…we would not recognize him…

LIfe is short and it is fierce. The day to day struggles of Ordinary Time pull us in a multitude of directions. We seek answers to questions that we have not clearly formulated. We seek the Wise Old Sage…among those who we have pigeon-holed as…Wise Old Sages. We seek the best among the kaleidoscope of choices that dance before our eyes. Why are our our churches dying? Why do we seek wisdom from political parties and their leaders…who are primarily concerned with protecting their Senator or Congressman lifestyle? Why do we look to a mentally failing babbling buffoon…for wisdom or a clear understanding as to the commonsense approach to governing a country or the will of the Master Creator? Why do we seek the living among the dead…