My kind of weather contains rain. You may have noticed that weather is a prominent subject in many of my blog posts? The weather….especially inclement weather…fascinates me. When I hear that it is supposed to rain all day and night and all day tomorrow…I am at peace with the world. When the clouds darken the sky…I say Hi! During my career I worked nearly 20 years on either the evening or night shift. I slept during the day when the sun was shinning. I had to darken my bedroom to nod off into dreamland. When I was eating my breakfast…you were enjoying your supper. When the rooster crowed…it was time for some shut eye. There is a lot going on at night. Have you ever been in a restaurant at 3:00 A:M:? People of the night are by-and-large good folk. They dress a bit differently. At times it appears that they are wearing their pajamas or a derivative thereof. Their skin is pale…almost a shade of ashen. They drink a lot of coffee…cup after cup…and they smoke many cigarettes. People of the night look you over when you enter the local eatery that caters to their kind. They watch you with some interest…and skepticism. They are wondering why you are so tan. They wonder why you drink Perrier Water. They wonder why you have on a sport coat and tie…

Calming peace pervades when you like something that most people do not. It is a bit like being an observer from another planet. It seems that the humans do not have the custom of making eye contact with each other. When you ride with them in an elevator…they are fascinated with their I Phones and can not bear to look up…even when you attempt to make idle conversation with them. As you see the reactions of the night people when they watch the cable news speak of 2 or 3 or 4 mass shootings occurring during the day…you notice that they seem disinterested and return to their I Phones and another coffee as they open a new pack of Marlboros.

As a night person who enjoys rain you scratch your head when you consider that about half of the people in the country believe truth that can be supported by facts….and the other half believe conspiracy theories that were authored in madness and delusion. The day people seem in a constant state of agitation and distress. The night people are tired and pale and cough at times.

All of the news stations have accounts of Unidentified Flying Objects and they have the video tapes and expert testimony to attest that neither the scientific or military or political or religious community has been able to identify what thousands of people have seen.

The rendezvous with the Mother Ship is tonight…after some coffee and cigarettes…

As I was walking last night until 11:50 P:M: I remembered what a vocal stranger told me once, many years ago, in front of Downs Furniture Store in Elkville, Illinois. He walked up to me and announced, in his theatre stage voice, Motivation Is The Key! He then turned on his heels and walked away. The motivator first startled me and then I laughed at his over the top pronouncement. But, he was right…and I have never forgotten him or what he said. I walk 10 thousand steps per day because it is good for my right leg that landed me in the hospital at the end of December. It is also a good weight control and it cheers my disposition…that often needs some cheering. Life is a series of activities…if you are not moving…you are missing out on the crux of the Game. Often I do not feel like writing…but I feel much better once that I have. At times I want to think twice about my daily journey to Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale for the beginning of my 10 thousand steps…but I do anyway…and I am glad.

Jonathon and I had lunch at the Panda Express, yesterday. I stepped up to the front door and discovered that it was securely locked. I pressed my nose against the glass window and cupped my hands around my eyes and squinted in at the empty chairs and tables. Thereupon a nice woman, who was sitting with her friend at some out door tables, told me that they were not going to let us in and that to order we had to go through the drive thru.. As we sat and consumed our two plates for one lunch special I heard a man call out with a lusty cry to his neighboring driver. I asked Jonathon did the man say that he loved the person that he called out too? Jonathon replied that the passionate man had told the other to, ‘Get his f—ing ass out of the road!’ I considered that there is virtue in patience in an impatient world. So many times we are motivated by our urgent sense of expediency. It would be nice if we were motivated by a sense of calm security and peace with all humanity.

Yesterday was a prime example of motivation. I had been having some difficulty with my blog for a couple of weeks. When I would type a new entry my page would produce something like a black mask over two thirds of the page…while I was typing. I could barely see the typeface, somewhat similar to the chairs and tables in the Panda Express, and once I published the document its appearance was normal. I was on the Live Chat with WordPress for 5 to 6 hours before we solved the problem. About 2 hours into the discussion I considered removing WordPress from my computer and asking for a refund of my, just paid, $68 dollars for the Premium level of blogging. Luckily I thought again and considered that I needed to take my own blogging advice and to be patient in an impatient world. The kind helper at WordPress faithfully stuck with me through it all.

Presbyterian Liturgy recognizes a large portion of the year as Ordinary Time. If you think about…Ordinary Time governs much of our daily lives. Not everyday is Christmas. We just returned from a lovely holiday at Miramar Beach, Florida…but now we are home again. Purchasing a new car or a home is exhilarating and fun…but we do not do so everyday. Weekends are wonderful, but they are only 2 of the 7 days of the week. At some point in our lives we must learn to be motivated and inspired by the ordinary and nuanced facets of the beauty of each day that is very similar to the last and a good forecast of the next…

Hot would be the word for today. Not that it is anything for we Southern Illinoisan’s to wonder about as it is usually hot in Little Egypt in the summer. Most often our hot days are combined with high humidity or air that you wear. Although, at this moment the temperature of 82 degrees feels quite comfortable with two fans running and the sun setting. I got Aaron a vintage G.I. Joe today at Electric Larry’s. He was one of the small G.I. Joes from the 1990’s. When I was a lad and G.I. Joe first came on the scene…he was 12 inches tall and came in a cardboard box with all of his accoutrements. I never owned a large 1960’s G.I. Joe…I had his cheaper cousin…Stony. Stony was made with legs that were pre-posed and were un-moveable while G.I. Joe had fully articulated legs and arms. It seemed to me that the plastic that Stony was fashioned from was harder than Joe’s. Toys were made better 50 years ago. They were made by hands that constructed them to last…and not for discarding. I inquired regarding an old Polaroid Camera at Larry’s. He said that they stopped making them in the 1960’s. It was one of the deluxe kind that pulled out in the front from its collapsable storage mode. It came in a leather case. Randall, the owner of Larry’s mentioned that cameras of that era, my era, were made to last as long as they were not exposed to moisture for a prolonged period.

We love to get out…or get away…see something new or do something different than we normally would. However once we are out as the comedian, Jerry Seinfeld, told us…we want to get back in. I crave home and people and places that remind me of home and folks, that although I am their guest, treat me like I am at home. To feel like you are at home with another person or group of people is a compelling attraction. The feeling will cause you to return to the people or places that make you so Wellcome. Home is a feeling as much as a residence. When I think about church I think about home. We wonder and fret regarding our diminishing number of churches and congregants who attend those churches while we seldom ask ourselves if people feel at home at our church. We are all looking for a place of love and security and acceptance.

Think about your hearts warmest days. Consider if you will the days that you understood that you had arrived…home. Often it is a building combined with a special feeling. Often it is someone who accepts you for who you are…not who criticizes you because you are not fashioned in their image and obtained their likeness. It is Gay Pride Month…and some my dearest friends are Gay. Are you seeking a god that hates the same people that you hate and has the same bias and prejudice that you are proud to proclaim as not only your right to posses… but the truth…as you have divined by your personal communications with the Creator? Shall we all step aside for the wisdom of a god that hates the majority of his creation, as many in churches would tell us? Or do we seek the Jesus of the lovely Bible Story books that I used to read when I was visiting the doctor in Eldorado, and I visited the doctor often when I was a child? The pictures in the books were so beautifully illustrated that the message of God’s love for all men and women and boys and girls…pulled at my heart strings. When I read those Bible Story books at the doctors…I felt at home.

Summer weather has arrived. For a moment I considered that it had lost its way…but I did not know that it had a GPS. I was pleased and honored to drive my friend of 50 years, Jeff, to his trailer in Creal Springs. It is a picturesque route. Jeff and I met when we both attended the same church in Elkville, Illinois. I was either 12 or 13 at the time. He is a member of the Dunmyer family…who were so kind to me in my youth. They, like most of us in the little non-denominational church, had little…but they always had a place for me at their table. As Jeff and I journeyed to his trailer…the years rolled away. I have considered that my life experiences are a bit seamless to me. If you are my friend…you will always be my friend.

Situational friendships and commitments and loyalties…are a quandary to me. How do you care about someone today…and not tomorrow? My father left my life, permanently, when I was 6 years old. He passed away at age 60 and I never got to see him again. I would have loved to have seen him and hugged his neck and recognize our common human ties and our family. When Jeff spoke of our friends…it is as if I saw them yesterday. When I see others become upset with their friends or family and proceed to cut off relationships with them…I am sad. Our lives are very short…the narrative of our experience on our home, for now, is precious and people come into our lives for a reason.

I have heard it said that once the Grim Reaper comes to collect each of us…our lives will pass before our eyes. I want everyone that I know…to be included. I can not afford to leave anyone out.

June has entered waking softly and happily. June 2021 is so different than June 2020. We in the United States are breathing easier and not as afraid as we were last year at this time. The elusive hope is slowly returning into our spirits and enlightening our understanding of the beauty of our mortality. I read a lovely piece by Garrison Keillor, the other day, were he recounts being in the emergency ward of a hospital for 24 hours. He mentioned that he has had two strokes, previously and that he had become faint and his thought processes were muddled before he was taken to the hospital. Garrison, who Jonathon and I met at Shryock Auditorium, spoke of his younger years when he was, ‘insanely busy,’ and either preoccupied or in his words, arrogant, and thus had little time for others. He reflected on another hospital encounter where he sat and visited with the richest man in Minnesota…as they both were patients in the health facility. The next week he read off the death of the man that he had enjoyed visiting. The nexus of his article is that we are all equal in our mortality and the best of life awards and honors and gold and acclaim…are a bit of fluff…when it is time to meet your maker.

We walk softly as we head toward the light that is at the end of the long tunnel of our 2020/2021 Pandemic. I have a dear friend who told MJ and I that he thinks about his mortality on a daily basis. I think about my time on earth and what have I done to make other’s lives better and what is there yet to accomplish. As my friend and doctor told me a few months back…Mr. Brooks…you are getting older.’ I laugh to myself…on occasion…when I witness the supreme struggle of many to one-up their colleagues or to better themselves at another’s expense. Riches and power and fame and acclaim are as light as gossamer wings. It is like the rich man who was told that he could not take his riches with him…and he retorted that he was having his burial suit tailored with big pockets…

Jeff D. and I will visit tomorrow. He and I have been friends for 50 years. Jeff is the genuine article. He is honest and marches to the tune of his own drummer. He and I both have significant Native American heritage. It is refreshing to talk with a person who is not attempting to impress you. I was watching a documentary regarding the scientific communities work to produce the first photos of a Black Hole. Quantum Physicists and Astronomers understand that Black Holes exist in space…but they do not follow the laws of Physics as we understand them. Black Holes absorb everything that comes near them in they’re tremendous vortex. Nothing returns once it has entered a Black Hole. It was commonly believed by the famous scientist Stephen Hawking and his colleagues that there was no methodology of recording information as to what had been sucked in by the BH. Philosopher Physicist have now discovered that at the Event Horizon, which is the perimeter of the BH, there is a substance that they have termed, ‘Soft Hairs’ that recover at least some of the data as to what is entering the BH. To properly take a photo of a BH the astronomers needed a telescope the size of the earth. The compensated by having several telescopes take images of a BH at the same time…all around the Earth and then compiling the data to discover an image of a BH.

We have temporary residency on a blue planet called Earth. We are tenants…not owners. There is so much more that we do not know…than what we know…

I discovered yesterday that my vintage Toyota Camry was not starting properly. It has been such a reliable car for the over 10 years that I have owned it…I was flummoxed as to how this could happen. I looked under the bonnet and found that there was no regular battery there…only the Hybrid Battery. So, I did what all good non-mechanics do…I watched a You Tube video on where the 12 volt battery is in a 2007 Toyota Camry and discovered to my dismay that it is in the trunk. I subsequently examined the terminals as to their security to the battery posts and their cleanliness. Both were good and I proceeded to Auto Zone for their kind help and assistance. When I asked the nice woman at Auto Zone if they checked batteries…she responded with a hearty, ‘We do!’ Before we had exited the building and I parked right by the front door…I informed her that the car was a Hybrid…and she responded that they not only were prohibited from checking the 12 volt batteries in a Hybrid but that it was written right on there battery checker. She sadly told me that I must go to the Toyota dealer for the battery check. I did so with great haste…as the Camry would not start after I put gas in her…but on the second attempt…she did. I was happy to get a 2 P:M: appointment at Toyota when I did not call until noon. After I put gas in her old tank. When I arrived I told the person who greeted me, in the Service Area, that I was very early but that I feard being stranded if I turned off the engine. I asked him if I should leave it running…and he replied, yes. An hour and 40 minutes later the nice fellow who had checked me in said that indeed the battery was bad…and could not keep a charge above 25%. He told me that he had some bad news and that being that the new battery was $335. I responded that I had to get home and that he should install it. I mentioned that it seemed that everything with a Hybrid vehicle was more expensive…and he responded that it was. I told MJ that I was relieved that we had to purchase a $335 dollar battery rather than a $3,500 Hybrid battery.

So, conditioning is paramount in our acceptance of what life throws our way. We praise our new President for doing what a President should do. We accept that our denominational churches are dying because we refuse to accept the realization that we in denominations do not want to change. We see clearly that there is a political agenda that is based on, ‘The Big Lie,’ and we seek non-partisan agreement with people that have no desire to agree on anything that does not emanate from their false construct of reality.

At one time we believed the homelessness was a terrible wrong. At one time we believed that church attendance was paramount to a life well lived. We trusted our elected President…at one time….before Watergate. We believed to fight in foreign wars was our duty….before Vietnam. We believed, on some level, that we were all mortal and that we would all die as mortals…and that what we had achieved in this life was of little importance in relation to the life to come…

The June 1st rains are falling steadily. It is Tuesday…but it feels like Monday. Yesterday was Memorial Day. We are a country that is based on an idea. The idea is really a grand experiment that encompasses the family of man. Many nations…if not most…arise from their shared ethnicity. I visited the military cemetery at […]

Story, Yet Unrealized — The Jazz Man

Another beautiful day in the neighborhood. A cool Memorial Day Weekend is to be prized. Last year at this time we were in the midst of our Pandemic and vaccines were months away. We had canceled our Maine Holiday and soon would cancel another before the year was completed. At First Presbyterian Church in Carbondale, we on the Session had voted to close the church for in person attendance in February and little did we know that we would be closed for 15 months… Twenty-Twenty was the year of the pipe for me. Having purchased a pipe package at a Tobacconist in St. Charles, Missouri during November, 2019…I busily puffed away on the corn cob pipe that was included with some pipe tobacco and pipe cleaners and the all important instructions on how to smoke a pipe. I so enjoyed the experience, as I have been a Sherlock Holmes fan for most of my life, that I asked for a pipe for Christmas from Aaron. He gifted me the most exquisite cherry pipe and I was on my way to the, ‘ smoke encircling my head like a wreath.’ Then the Pandemic struck and I…as well as all of you…was left with spare time…which I devoted to my new found pleasure. Many happy thoughts and plans ensued from my smoky solitude and thoughts of the future. As I sat in my vintage Toyota Camry and enjoyed a bowl or two or three…Two elderly ladies looked at me suspiciously each day as they passed my car on their afternoon Pandemic walk. Some days I bowed my head and smiled…and they smile back….while other days they averted their gaze at what was obviously a sinner…with an obsession.

I have had few richer or more rewarding pleasure than to be able to offer a good paying job to another human being. Often I was able to bring into the University Community people who had been marginalized by society and forgotten by the elite. My friend, Astrid, admired my axiom…that I was not hiring people for a job…I was hiring people into a career. During my 25 years in management/administration at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale Campus leaders had an appreciation for the value that their housekeeping organization brought to the mission of SIUC. On one occasion Chancellor Samuel Goldman said that if he could just get the rest of the University to work together as well as Building Services did on the night of the derecho when they prepared the foot ball stadium for commencement for the Saturday after the devastating destruction that was wrought on Southern Illinois. In 2009 Southern Illinois was hit with what was termed an inland hurricane or a derecho. We cleaned Abe Martin Football Stadium’s metal bleaches under constant lightning and with our only light the flashlights that our staff carried. The Story of Building Services was renown though out our Community.

Story compels us to action. Story captivates our imagination. Jesus was born of the virgin Mary and laid in swaddling clothes in a manger because there was no room for him in the inn. Dr. Billy Graham told millions of people over his multi-decade ministry that Christ wanted them to be saved and that they should walk down to the stage where he was preaching as an illustration to the world…of their commitment to Christianity. I attended a Billy Grahm Crusade in Carbondale, Illinois that was held at the Campus Arena. I had been a Christian for many years…and also had been a life long admirer of the ministry of Billy Graham. There was an African American preacher that was the keynote speaker and I was mesmerized by the feeling in the large Arena that held nearly 10 thousand people. There were no histrionics or overtly emotional appeals…and yet the the call to Christ was palpable in the building. Much later Jonathon and I saw Dr. Graham speak in the football stadium in St. Louis, Missouri. He was 80 years old and his shock of white hair glistend in the spotlights. He spoke a simple story of Christ love for mankind. He spoke as an 80 year old would speak…and it was compelling and magnificent…and other worldly. Dr. Graham did not have an overtly political message nor an involved theological treatise. He presented the simple story that Jesus loves the little children…all the little children of the world…and we are all children…

Our Neighborhood Co-Op is an interesting and eclectic emporium of healthy foods and unusual baked bread and delicious pizza. I discovered today that they also had a big comb like mother used to have. As mom and I were going it alone after she and my dad divorced…I noticed her big blue comb that she kept on the sink in our only rest room. Mind you the days of two our three rest rooms in your house were light years away from my reality. I had friends who had outdoor toilets with the ever present Sears Catalog. But mom had the indestructible big blue comb that I combed my young hair with each morning before walking to Hillcrest School. The comb had big teeth and I had thick black hair…and they worked well together. Over the subsequent years I have not been witness to the big comb…until today. I was so excited to procure a vintage Big Comb…that I neglected to buy a slice of wonderful and healthy pizza.

We continue to attempt to improve and modernize and streamline…when we really are looking for the joys of our youth. The days when you assumed that you would always have thick hair to comb…and mom’s big blue comb would be at its ever present place on the sink. When I arrived home from school…there was mom with the widest grin on her face and a joy in welcoming my return from the big mean world. I never wondered if mom loved me…I knew it. I had seen her get mad at others and lash out and she was somewhat frightening when she was angry…but when I upset her…she smiled and became silent and reflective and never cross. Mom apologized for not telling me that she loved me or her infrequent hugs…but I was perplexed because I understood that I was her world… She became ill and began loosing blood though her bowels and she was convinced that she had cancer… I called her every day from the pay telephone at the Junior High School and enquired as to her health of the mid-day. I was worried and frightened and afraid of loosing my mom…who loved me so. Later during surgery it was discovered that mom had an obstruction in her colon and not cancer…and Earl and I were both relieved and thankful for the good news. Neve June…a little girl from Mt. Vernon, Illinois…was our light and our reason for getting up in the morning. She never met a person who was down on their luck or who needed a hand or a leg up…that the did not take on as her personal project to help and assist. Neva June taught me the meaning of Christian. Her family seemed to discount her and marginalize her and it made me so angry… I thought that she is more a Christian than the group of those whited sepulchers combined…

Mom smoked Salem Cigarettes… not because she liked to smoke but because every adult that the knew smoked at least a little… She incessantly worried about her and my dad’s divorce and felt that it was all her fault and that she had permanently marred me. She was the most powerful example of courage and fortitude and grace and humility that I ever knew…and she could do no wrong.

So today I bought a Big Comb…and when I comb my hair…I will see Mom…

The temperature is 61 degrees with a 17 mile per hour wind…making it feel like 57. That is unusually cool in our neck of the woods for the Memorial Day Weekend or the unofficial kick off for summer. Also, there is a light rain falling periodically, that is. It is just my kind of weather! I was watching the President and his obvious grief for his deceased son, Bo, who had served in the military. His expressed love and respect for our troops was palpable and a testament to the supreme value that they have for our country. I remember my dad who served in the Pacific Theatre during World War II. He bought back the most lovely hand crafted jewelry boxes.

I watched a most interesting documentary on Hulu, the other night, regarding the largest retirement community in the United States, The Villages in central Florida. In the beginning of the the piece it seemed that The Villages were Nirvana on Earth. In fact one of the residents stated that they were… However as the movie continued it became apparent that although, as a resident said, that if you lived in The Villages you never had to leave the community for anything as it was all contained within…yet there was no panacea for our human condition. One couple featured in the program had been married for 43 years but the husband was determined to experiment with illegal drugs and was a slowly losing his mind. A recent widow had to continue working full time to afford to live in The Villages and was constantly reminiscing about her former home in Massachusetts. She was lonely…although she noted that it was difficult to be alone in the community. The third man that was focused on was living in his van and seeking a well to do widow to support him. It appeared that there was constant entertainment and unlimited opportunities to drink your favorite alcohol and the opportunity to drive, incessantly, your golf cart…which is considered a necessary luxury in paradise. Google calculates that the monthly expenses of Villages living is $4,254 dollars and $200 for expenses and $8000 for a golf cart and painting your home.

Summer was not my favorite season when I was a youngster. I have never cared for hot weather. If it were not for our bi-weekly swimming trips to Pound Hollow, which was about 20 miles from Eldorado…I would have been miserable. I did enjoy being out of school. I so enjoyed swimming that I even ventured into my neighbors pond, that their hogs also enjoyed, on more than one occasion. Thankfully, I am still alive to tell the story. For the many years that I was working…work did not adjourn for the summer…it was just the hot time that I had to go to labor. Upon retirement I made my peace with summer. Now I enjoy what it has to offer. After all it is a quarter of our year. We have made a number of hot weather holidays. After five Caribbean cruises and one extend visit to the island of St. John…we understand the complete meaning of…hot. Three of our four visits to Europe could be characterized as hot holidays… When we spent a month with our friends, Margo and Jeff, and stayed with them in their flat in Nice…I was without my trusty hat. After being in the Mediterranean sun for a couple of days…I began to furtively seek a hat. MJ and I finally discovered a hat store in Nice and I purchased a white beach hat. The friendly owners of the haberdashery told me that I had chosen the perfect hat for my head…and so I believe the they must know what they are talking about. We even kicked off my retirement at the conclusion of 2010 with a January visit to Jamaica. I was so enthralled with my new freedom that I felt like a rich man who did not know how to spend my money. We went with my brother-in-law, Ron…who is more like my brother, and he showed us how to enjoy Jamaica. The Sandals Resort that we stayed at was all inclusive and I did not fully appreciate the terminology until I ordered a drink at one of the many bars and the barman kept pouring alcohol into my Vodka tonic. When I mentioned to the broad smiling gentleman that he certainly made drinks stronger than where I came from he replied….’We are a drinking country…mon!’ We went on an excursion to Dunn’s River Falls and Ron assured us that we would enjoy the experience. At first we had to stop off for some water shoes…and I found one pair that would fit my size 15 feet. Then we walked down many steps to only look up at a 90 degree angle wall of slick rock and algae covered rock with water running down it in a copious manner. I looked around in an effort to see if this must be a joke on the tourist…but it was not. Many in our party were obviously older than we were. I wondered if this was where I was gong to die. We began to climb and slip and grab on to the slick wall of rock and algae and water as if our life deepened on it…because it did.

So I have learned to love the summer and the gifts that it brings. I have discovered that the feeling of fulfillment in retirement can be found in Southern Illinois…just as well as in The Villages in central Florida. Happiness comes from within. It seems that.a peaceful heart comes from a settled mind.

Often when I return from an enjoyable holiday and where I have seen things that I have not seen before or experience adventures that are new to me…I remember the smallest and obscure details. We purchased some Tumi luggage at Miramar Beach and the Asian lady that helped us was simply a delight! She made us proud and excited to be owners of Tumi! I visited Edinburgh and saw the varied mysteries and dreams of the hundreds of dramatic performances during the Fringe Festival…and yet I vividly recall a gentleman that I spoke to at a Chinese Restaurant on the first evening that we were there. He was in a wheel chair and he asked me if I could help him up in order to facilitate his order at the counter. He was such a kind man and inquired with interest as to our impressions of Edinburgh and where we were from. He mentioned how he wanted to visit the United States…but had been denied on an occasion and yet he was going to resubmit his application for a Visa. Activities and events and friends and fun are standing in line for those of us who are up for little adventure…