‘You know I never realized that being a Christian made you rich,’ Sammy Sheep said. ‘When I began in the pasture, the Shepherd was always nearby,’ Sammy S recalled. ‘We sheep were quite similar and hard to tell apart,’ Sammy S continued. ‘Days were filled with reverence for our new vocation to be led by the Shepherd,’ Sammy S mused. ‘Evening we spent around the campfire listening to the tales of the pasture,’ The Shepherd spoke of. ‘Shepherd had a bass resonant voice that sounded like a mixture of turtle doves and rushing waters,’ Sammy S smiled. ‘Shepherd spoke of lands flowing with milk and honey and the wolf lying down with the lamb and nothing would make us afraid,’ Sammy S said with a tear in his eye. ‘We had Sunday dinner between church services, and there was fried chicken and apple pie. We ate our potluck in the church pews and laughed, oh, how we laughed at the hope before us,’ Sammy S recalled. ‘The old and young had Sunday Dinner together with no generation gap,’ Sammy S said. ‘There was such a feeling of love in the little white church with the humble pews and them being full of poor people,’ Sammy S said softly.

‘I remember the Shepherd singing so powerfully it seemed angels were singing with him,’ Sammy S sang softly. ‘Nothing good have I done to deserve God’s own son,’ Sammy S sang. ‘Then…we wanted more and saw our friends and neighbors getting more…More, please, we said to the Shepherd,’ Sammy S. listened as if hearing the old pleadings. ‘Many of the sheep left looking for riches and approval and validation of their abilities,’ Sammy S said. ‘Soon there was a resplendent pasture full of cantelopes and pomegranites and fine houses and soft downy sheets,’ Sammy S said softly. ‘There were new voices…there were different voices,’ Sammy S. noted ruefully. ‘Money had become the Golden Ticket just like in Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, Sammy S proclaimed. ‘Riches and abundance, a full lauder and two fine cars showed the Shepherd’s approval of real Christians,’ Sammy S. said as he walked away.

‘What is your politics?’ asked Mega Church Preacher. ‘We believe God is richly blessing our political/religious beliefs and not the falsehoods of the other political party, MCP said boldly. ‘Our members drive Cadillacs and Lincoln Continentals, and we live in the best neighborhoods in town,’ MCP said. ‘ We require a 20% tithe and many special offerings,’ MCP said. ‘We also want to study your financial portfolio to ensure that your level of financial giving is correct,’ MCP noted with seriousness of purpose.

‘Let’s not stop for the beggar,’ Priscilla said. ‘We are already late for our lunch with the Ravencrofts,’ Priscilla added. ‘He is dirty and sweaty and emits an objectionable odor,’ Priscilla noted as she held her nose. ‘Besides that, you must study for your message tomorrow on the abundance of God’s mercy and reaching out to the needy,’ Priscilla noted.

‘It seems that the strange sound of something like turtle doves and rushing water can now be heard across the planet,’ the Newscaster said.

The biggest mystery is ourselves. We travel through life with accumulated baggage. Childhood trauma and the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Often, I have heard people say that they act in the manner that they do because that is who they are. What made them who they are? Understanding others is a challenge, and understanding ourselves can be more so.

The Sun is setting a minute sooner each day. Daylight and dark are changing places. Soon, the cool of the evening will have a fall chill. Waiting turns to hope. We are looking for something. We have been told somewhere in the recesses of the past of its coming. At times in the darkness, we catch a glimpse of the Gift. It is magnificent and mysterious. It cannot be described in usual terms. It is complex and ethereal. At times, we think about it in the Woods. When the birds are singing, a rabbit watches us. We watch back and say, Hello, Mr. Rabbit.’

‘Are you looking for the Gift this morning?’ Mr. Rabbit asks. ‘I saw it in a dream once when I was young,’ Mr. Rabbit notes. ‘A Shadow crossed our cottage door, and the Gift said softly, ‘Come and see.’ Mr. Rabbit explained. ‘When I told MaMa about the Shadow and what he told me, she admonished me to not speak of mysteries and eat my porridge,’ Mr. Rabbit said. ‘MaMa did not like to meddle,’ Mr. Rabbit explained. ‘The Shadow passes through the Woods often speaking of the Gift,’ Mr. Rabbit said. ‘The Shadow told us that all creation is waiting on the Gift.

There is a shared memory. There is a communal thought. There is an understanding of the Gift. We wrestle with angels and devils to peek at it. We began somewhere else. This is not our complete Origin Story. Long ago, there was the sound of soft rustling and singing. Once we heard the choir of the angels singing with God. They were singing of the Gift. We remember, and then there are the dishes to do. We must get the kids ready for bed. Work in the morning, and a deadline to meet. Barbecue this weekend, swimming, golf, and a picnic on Sunday. Summer is fleeting as it always is. There is the diet and the slips. Loss and gain. Stocks are up, they are down. Rollercoasters are fun at the fair. The excitement takes your breath away. What will happen next? The Shadow watches us from the Cotton Candy Stand. The Shadow sees that we are watching him. We forgot the Gift temporarily. Now we are focused again. We wait as the bullfrogs sing. The little boy walks his dog and skips stones on the pond. The dog looks into the horizon. He is waiting for the Gift.

‘It is impossible to build a program of logic on diverse facts,’ Mr. Finance said. ‘You can not make it up as you go along,’ Mr. Finance observed. ‘Not so long ago, we agreed on facts,’ Mr. Finance observed. ‘There is an order to finance people invest in surity,’ Mr. Finance assured. ‘It is only a matter of time, I fear,’ Mr. Finance said.

‘The flowers are beautiful,’ Ethereal Lady said. ‘How long have you been walking in the Woods?’ Ethereal Lady asked. ‘I have seen you before and in different seasons,’ Ethereal Lady noted. ‘You capture what you see,’ Ethereal Lady said with a smile.

‘It seems I have been in the Woods for a day or two, but then again, I lose track of time when I am here,’ Old Man said. ‘My photos tell me it has been years,’ the Old Man mused. ‘I am looking for the Gift,’ the Old Man said with a wink.

‘What is man, that thou art mindful of him? And the son of man, that thou vistitest him?’ Psalms 8:4

The Old Man walked in the woods. He reflected on his good fortune despite his many mistakes. There have been real battles and the imagined ones. I heard a great podcast yesterday discussing the importance of letting people be who they are. Do not project your expectations on others. Our lives are full of a cast of characters, of which we are a player. Everyone deserves a chance to play their part well. Neva J told me that we are here for a reason. My belief in this axiom is the bedrock of my life.

‘I see you are wearing your new shirt that Jonathon got you for Father’s Day, Guardian Angel said. ‘You wore that to see your Nurse Practitioner this morning, didn’t you?’ Guardian Angel mused. ‘It seems to me you have gone from not worrying about your health to obsessing over it,’ GA said with a wink. ‘I was with you when Neva J and Bill sat with you as a little boy and the three doctors studied your heart condition,’ GA noted. ‘Do you remember the time you had convulsions and were rushed by ambulance from Eldorado to Evansville, and the ambulance driver said that this kid is not going to make it,’ GA said with his hand on the Old Man’s shoulder. ‘You got a good report from Stephanie, didn’t you? ‘ GA laughed. ‘I knew you were going to, but at times you choose to listen to your fears more than your faith,’ GA laughed.

We hear so many negative things that we forget there are many positives in our lives. People love us. They may not tell us every day, but their actions prove their affection. No one is always right. Neither Democrats nor Republicans have the market on truth. Joy is as close as the pages of a good novel. Joy is standing just behind you, trying to get your attention. Joy is waving her arms and doing a happy dance. Joy says, ‘You are in the midst of your mission and have much yet to do.’ ‘I have been waiting for you to remove your face from your pillow and open the curtains to see the brilliant sun,’ Joy proclaims. ‘Think about the trail you have crossed and the heat of summer, the cold of winter and the deprivations you endured to reach this point in your mission…now is the time for you to enter stage left…you are on and the spotlight is directed directly on you,’ Joy tells you in a soft but firm voice.

Someone is behind the door. Someone is peeking in through the open window. The apple pies are cooling, and the air is rich with a delicious aroma of hot apple pie. Your mouth is watering. You wonder if you have the strength of character to wait. Could it be that now is the time for you to take the center stage? Is now the focus of the mission laid down from the foundation of the world?

Humans are first with me. I can not bear the burden of wondering if I have hurt my fellow woman or man. My life is built on the guiding principle that we are children of God. Every physical thing becomes dust and is blown away by the wind of time. Only what we have done for others lasts and has permanent meaning.

Today holds promise. The blue sky is full of fluffy white clouds. July is moving along with purpose. We search for the answers to life’s persistent questions. Our hearts are full of the joy of the past and hope for the future. We remember the trail. We have tales from the trail. There were pitfalls and boulders in our path. Sometimes we held on for dear life. I recall when becoming 40 seemed old. I walked by a mirror we had in our four-room house and looked at the image of the old man staring back at me. He seemed happy and tired. As Neva J said, she was born tired and never got rested. Much of life has felt that way. There were Saluki Football games to attend. Jonathon explained to me how football is played. I enjoyed watching the people in the stands. Once, we attended a University of Illinois Football game and almost froze to death. I have never been so cold. We left early with numb and burning feet.

Christmas produces the fondest memories. Fernie said each year regarding me that I was a man who truly enjoyed Christmas. Fernie and I had the love of Christmas in common. We erected the seven-foot Christmas tree in front of our humongous picture window. It was like a wall of glass. When the curtains were open, the outside world was welcomed into our living room. Jason would knock on our door and ask if the boys could come out and play. They were more than ready for adventure. Aaron and Jonathon wile away hours enjoying the mystery of the Village of Elkville. I sat in the big red recliner in front of the picture window and dreamed of the joys of the holidays that awaited. Fernie sold Avon after her retirement and sold it to MJ and me at cost. I had Avon Cars and other unique decanters that held Men’s Cologne. The decanters were collectors’ items. I had an Avon decanter that was in the shape of a hand that I kept for years. At Christmastime, our little gas furnace would work overtime keeping our abode warm. It was an old house built in the early days of the last century, and there were a lot of cracks. One Christmas, when money was especially tight, I read a book about hunger and was hungry after the Christmas feast had concluded.

In those halcyon days, I was fascinated by the new idea of home computers. We bought a used black and white television to use as a computer monitor for a Texas Instruments computer. I thought I was in Heaven. I home-computed while in between reading chapters from The Hunger Book. We bought our first actual Home Computer from Montgomery Ward one Christmas. It cost two thousand dollars and was good for playing the Oregon Trail and word processing. It was not connected to the internet as the Village of Elkville did not have internet service. That was the year of Nintendo. Nintendo was a miracle. Aaron and Jonathon went to Eldorado to spend several days with Neva J and Earl, as was their custom. MJ and I played Baseball all night until dawn. Technology had sucked us in.

I watched Mike on Sunday at Ron’s Birthday party as he cooked the food for our enjoyment. What a study in quiet power and dignity. He and Tara have raised some wonderful children. Time after time, Mike has impressed me with his great father skills.

An old Christian Hymn is Remind Me, Dear Lord. We are subsumed by the great forgetting. We forget where we came from and who we were. Someone extended a hand of friendship and love to us when we had nothing to offer but goodwill. It is believed that our country will soon suffer from a lack of immigrants. We are an aging nation. I helped Berl roof his new home. Now I seek others to give me an estimate on hail damage. We need to be reminded to be our better selves. I remember the days when Aunt Lauretta and Uncle Merl took me under their wings and appreciated what I had to offer. Merl treated me like a father would a son. I felt warm in my heart and hot on my skin as we were in El Paso, Texas. We visited El Paso many times. MJ and I, and our sons, were treated like the Royal Family. Love does not have to be described. You know it when you feel it.

Somehow, we have forgotten our roots along the way to success. We think everyone eats rib-eye steaks and fillet mignon on the Fourth of July. Did not everyone have the opportunities we had in the world of work? Perhaps we ascribe more to our abilities than to the kindness of strangers. If we let hate take up residence in our hearts, we are lesser for the action. Many of us made the path to success with all of its massive holes and extreme drop-offs to oblivion. Others were not so lucky.

Hours to spend. How to spend them. We are rich in time one day and poor the next. Retirees often say that they don’t know how they found time to work. Is it possible to be penny-wise and pound-foolish with time? Or as my friend Jarvis told me when he first retired, that he was spending too much money, as everywhere he went, there was something to purchase. Time marches past us like a passing parade; we must jump in to keep time to the music.

The animals learn their roles in the ocean of time. From morning till night, they are busy spending their valuable commodity. Focus is vital to the enjoyment of time. ‘I must be about my father’s business,’ when Jesus was found by his parents in the temple.

Nihilism is growing in our land. ‘Friedrich Nietzsche said that modern society has destroyed God, stripping society of its value system and creating societal nihilism.’ People who ascribe to nihilism can explore the joy of the immediate experience and find joy in the moment. Many seek to create their own meaning of life. Others are not tethered to morality or ethics since nothing in their philosophy has meaning. These people in leadership political positions are dangerous.

I remember wanting a Kenner Projector for kids that showed a cartoon slide on the wall of your bedroom or on the ceiling from bed. When I got one for Christmas, I was overjoyed. I was in control of a cartoon that I loved. Life in Chicago was fun. Friends on both ends of the street and hours of watching Steve give Marionette shows. The Marionettes were alive to me. Puppets on a string. Oh, the predicaments they got in and had to extricate themselves from. At times, their strings would get tangled. Depending on the proficiency of the Puppeteer, they might go left when they intended to go right. When they attempted to sit, they might get their feet crossed and fall to the floor to finish the scene from the prone position. All depended on the focus of the Puppet Master. So it goes with our Look Through Time as we remember when our strings got tangled or our feet became crossed. The Puppet Master picked us up and we began again.

We struggle to fill our days with purpose until we focus on a purpose that inspires us. Once that calling is secure in our psyche, we are off to the races. The most satisfying of accomplishments come from helping others. Those who have no friend or advocate need someone to be their voice. Someone who cares if the marionettes are in a tangled mess on the floor.

The 4th has come and gone. It was fun, and the steaks were excellent from Chef Aaron. Cards were played, and Jonathon won. Jennifer is a quick study and a pleasure to be around.

We attended a wonderful birthday celebration for Uncle Ron on Sunday. Tara is a gracious host. The tranquility of the lake engulfed me. It was a perfect conclusion for the 4th of July Weekend.

Onward we go in the experience of summer. The rain comes in torrents. Flash flooding is now a reality across our country. The fragility of our existence is sobering. Many children’s lives are lost in Texas. It is beyond words of grief.

Christmas is coming, and where is the goose to fatten up? A day seems like an hour and a week like a day. ‘The best laid plans of mice and men suddenly go awry.’ The pages of the book of our lives blow in a stiff breeze. You have to hurry to read the pages. Politicians conspire and scheme on how to become richer and more powerful. It is all a poor man’s dream. Everything returns to dust, then to molecules, and then to the universe. We are made from cosmic dust.

The Bible asks us, ‘What has a man gained if he has the whole world and loses his soul?’ Thought-provoking as I am in the 50th year of my high school days. I remember wondering what life had in store as I stood in the Commencement line. I knew I was moving the next morning. I was 17. I hoped to understand faith better. I wanted to obtain a job that would sustain my needs. In those halcyon days, I wanted to be a minister. Faith had brought meaning to my life. Having seen people abused and criticized, I wanted to bring a balm of Gilead. To have words that would be a healing salve for wounds. I hoped to be a person who heard those who have no voice and saw those who are unseen.

‘There is the mayor,’ Thomas said. ‘She is kind,’ Thomas added. ‘Her staff passes me by, but she always stops and gives me some money and asks how I am,’ Thomas noted. ‘Mayor Carolin knows what it is like to be marginalized and forgotten,’ Thomas observed. ‘Mayor C understands words without works are hollow,’ Thomas said. ‘Mayor C offered me a bed in her home when I had nowhere to shelter from the freezing cold,’ Thomas noted. ‘She told me that community leaders passed her by many times without a glance or acknowledgment,’ Thomas whispered.

‘While I am Mayor of Carbondale, we will see the unseen and hear the unheard,’ Mayor Carolin said. ‘I remember Jim Crow and sitting in the balcony of the Varsity Theatre because I am black,’ Mayor Carolin said. ‘ All people and all races have my number and they can call me night or day,’ Mayor Carolin promised.

So it goes, we have a nation that has turned its back on the poor and homeless and those who are unseen and unheard. It has been said that money talks and bullshit walks. But not everywhere. Many cities, towns, and villages still believe in the Golden Rule. We still believe in the message of Christ. The lame were welcome at the table of Melchizedek. The hungry and needy are welcomed by Christians walking with the message of Jesus.

The cool breeze was welcome in July. Many middle-class Americans and the wealthy thought little of the coming fall and winter. I enjoy the bounty of the greatest country on the face of the Earth, those with ample resources thought. I will build bigger barns and stock them with the bounty of my abundance. I am a king among my community, and they recognize me for my accomplishments. Before you know it, we will set fire to the fireplaces and make spiced apple cider for the community. Our friends will praise our Good Samaritan Works. No one will suffer in our vision. We will give apples and pears and grapes, and cherries to the poor. They like those fruits. A Hoecake will be for the poor among us. Lively music and some ale for the Christmas Blessing.

It is humid. Rain has made it more humid. Aaron said, ‘As a young child,” It is really human outside.’ I liked the correlation between humidity and humans. We are all human. It is a strange state of being, and it is all we know. I have grown accustomed to humanity. The spiritual elements that comprise us are a miracle for a creature composed of dirt and water. We are spiritual beings in earthen vessels.

Sunday spreads its wings before us. Each day is an adventure and a particular challenge. Like snowflakes, no two are alike. Not knowing what awaits us, we prepare for eventualities. We have no GPS or roadmap. Our journey is by faith, not by sight. Eating food outside is fun. It reminds us of our past when we hunted and gathered. It was not so long ago that we were an agricultural society. Speaking of AI was Science Fiction. I recall my wonder at the internet. It was difficult to imagine what I was being told. The world was as close as your computer and your dial-up modem if you had the patience of Job. Video over the internet was unheard of in my world when I read that soon the primary conveyor of movies and media would be streaming. There would be little need for VHS Tapes or Movies on Disk. We visited Blockbuster Video regularly.

I could not imagine reading books on computer screens or devices sold for that purpose. I have hundreds of books. Now I listen to books on Audible.com. Times change. We grow in many ways while diminishing in others. The President’s Big Beautiful Bill passed. Now, fans of the legislation announce that you can no longer play video games and live on Medicaid. Medicaid is for poor people who are in nursing homes or receiving medical care that is not available to them due to their poverty. Many of the President’s supporters will lose their Medicaid. The Republican Party is full of poor folks, not just the rich. So it goes.

We used to help each other. Now we look the other way or cross to the other side of the street when we see a homeless person. Telling the disadvantaged to get up off their lazy ass and get a job is a myth that I have heard since a child. I know many poor people, and they are not lazy. I come from a poor family that worked hard for its bread. Before the internet, before home computers and cable television. I recall when baloney was a delicacy, and it was even better fried. There was a government program in my little town called Relief. No one wanted to be on it. It was not fun or a key to not working; it was a meager means to avoid starvation.

The Cubs will be playing today. It is Sunday of the 4th of July Weekend. We will laugh and count our blessings while many poor people are working their asses off to survive.

‘We are going to eat the hell out of those Oscar Mayer Weiners,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘You do know that I like them straight out of the package,’ Chet added. ‘Fireworks on the creek will be spectacular,’ Chet observed. ‘Perhaps it will scare the water moccasins away, ‘ Chet noted. ‘The Creature From The Black Lagoon is planning on joining us this 4th for our Independence Day Celebration,’ Chet informed. ‘Creature told me that he will show us the unique way they celebrate the Holiday. ‘Creature told me we should bring large fishing hooks, the kind you use to fish for Marlin, and that he would provide the bait,’ Chet winked. ‘I wonder what bait he will bring,’ Chet said.

‘Well, all I know is we will have Merlot and plenty of steaks,’ Neva J said. ‘I also have the makings for S’mores for the evening when we are watching the Fireworks,’ Neva J laughed. ‘Should we bring a pair of Trunks for Creature?’ Neva J asked. ‘I bet he wears extra large,’ Neva J said with a wink.

‘Look, there ahead is the Creature with a big ice chest that he is pulling behind him,’ Jane observed. ‘He is smiling a wide, toothy grin,’ Jane noted. ‘I wonder if he likes Oscar Mayer Weiners or if he is a steak Creature,’ Jane said.

‘Greetings, my friends,’ Creature said with a hearty wave. ‘I brought the special bait and some wonderful cigars to smoke around the campfire,’ Creature noted with aplomb. ‘I brought Stinky Bait for the big fishing hooks, which is what we use in the Ocean,’ Creature said. ‘You may want to hold your noses as humans find it somewhat objectionable,’ the Creature smiled. ‘I use five pounds of Stinky Bait on each hook,’ the Creature said with a wink.

‘Oh my god, what is that terrible smell? I can not stand it,’ Ms. Clarissa said as she gathered her beach towels.

‘Come, my dear, we will go to another beach that does not stink so badly, Dennis the Menace’s dad said with a frown.

‘Well, the Stinky Bait works every time, not always for catching big fish, but always providing ample space to watch Fireworks,’ the Creature laughed.

Whisps of cotton are in the air. As I sit on the Writing Porch, they blow languidly by. The blue sky is full of fluffy cotton clouds. Nature is resting. The explosions will soon start. Spirits will be high, and some will be filled with spirits. The 4th of July is a rite of passage in the United States. We live in a great country and tell ourselves often how great it is. Lee Greenwood sings, ‘I Am Proud To Be An American.’ The next line of the tune states, ‘At least I know I’m Free.’ Many of us sing those words without a thought that we are not all free. Poverty is a jail cell. Being different is a prison in a government that recognizes only itself. Diversity was once applauded, but is now hidden in the shadows. Americans are good-hearted people who do not want those less fortunate than they are to suffer or have food insecurity. Americans want every child to be well fed.

All Americans have shared the idea of a social safety net. All of us have mothers and fathers who have had to use the services of nursing homes and home healthcare. Our brothers and sisters, friends, and neighbors are good Americans, and many voted for the current President. Many are poor and work hard, fly our flag with American Pride. All races have fought and died for Our United States of America. Immigrants lie beneath the white grave markers of our military cemeteries.

Soldiers of all faiths and no recognized faith gave their lives freely for America. They believed in the concept that all men are created equal. They gave their ultimate sacrifice for the promise of America. In the foxhole, there was neither black nor white but only Americans.

‘When I see the colorful display of fireworks, I think of those who gave their lives for our freedom,’ Chet said. ‘Dad fought in World War II and Earl in the Korean War,’ Chet noted. ‘Neva J worked in the Armament Factory making shells,’ Chet continued. ‘Dad’s best friend was Homer Gibbons, a black man from Alabama,’ Chet noted. ‘Dad and Homer called each other brothers,’ Chet said quietly. ‘They got together each July 4th, raise the Flag and conduct a small ceremony,’ Chet said. ‘On alternate years Homer and his family celebrated Christmas with us in Illinois, and the next year we celebrated with them in Alabama,’ Chet mused with tears in his eyes.

‘I was reflecting on our time together in the field hospital in England,’ Sherrie said to Maude. ‘There was so much dying and amputations that I fled the operating theatre and you came to comfort me,’ Sherrie said. ‘The men loved us and treated us better than family,’ Sherrie reflected. ‘We held their hands and listened to them when there was no one else to hear,’ Sherrie said in a whisper. ‘We all were united as one because we were fighting for America and the right of our struggle,’ Sherrie offered.

‘Remember when we had Christmas for the men in the amputation wing,’ Maude said. ‘Those that could not feed themselves we fed and we created a choir for Christmas songs that sounded better than anything I have heard on Bing Crosby’s Christmas Specials,’ Maude laughed. ‘I told some of the men that we hoped to have a child when we returned to the states, and several offered to be a sperm donor with tears in their eyes,’ Maude reflected. ‘They loved us for who we were and we loved them like our fathers and brothers and would have died for them,’ Maude reflected.

So there you have it, Proud Americans are a Rainbow of colors and birthplaces. We are Gay and Straight, we are black and white, we are Jew and Gentile. The re-writers of history have come too late to change who we are as we salute our wonderful Flag.

The old man woke and thought he must have slept a long time. It had been a few minutes. There is a bit of magic in sleep. One minute you are here, and the next you may be a spy in a mystery. Suddenly, you look around you for your fellow spies, and they are an assembly of grinning clowns. As you pick the lock of the secret door, you enter and are back in your bed, looking for the night light. Such is the dream world and our present reality. Have you ever experienced a dream that was so real you wanted to go back to sleep to see what happened next? Or at times do you feel you may be dreaming when the lights are on and there is no bed to be found.

Ethereal thoughts follow us. All seems right and well until a spectre appears that we recognize from our subconscious. It is always with us, yet just outside our peripheral vision. We see a thousand faces throughout our days, and yet one or two stay with us. We connected yet know not how. Is a person we have loved our unseen companion? It is someone interested in our well-being. The stages we performed on had characters we loved at the time of our mutual performance. Then the show was over and we went our separate ways for the next Gig. What happened to our friend?

The Old Man stopped and stared. Before him was someone who looked just like he did 40 years ago. His younger self was laughing and preparing for Christmas. He and MJ were buying their first Christmas Tree with baby Aaron in tow. It was a magnificent tree with Victorian-style ornaments from Walmart. Then he was at a craftswoman’s house to pick up a handmade nativity to celebrate Jesus’ birth, and the enjoyment of their first son’s birth and first Christmas.

When the young man dozed off in the recliner by the front door of the little four-room house as baby Aaron was sleeping in his swing, he dreamed that he was an old man dreaming that he was a young man…

The new seven-foot-tall Christmas Tree stood by the humongous picture window, decorated with brilliant lights and Victorian Ornaments. Baby Aaron cackled with delight!