‘Neva J are you making a swimming trip to Pounds Hollow this week? ‘ Brenda asked with a wink. ‘It is so hot and I need a Pounds Hollow day,’ Brenda continued. ‘Gene is playing with his monster masks and cares for little else other than practicing his organ,’ Brenda noted with a frown. ‘If you do not talk about Universal Monsters Studio with Gene, he is just not interested,’ Brenda said. ‘When I tell him about my boyfriend Danny, he seems underwhelmed,’ Brenda lamented. ‘Mom is so into church, and Dad is tired all of the time, so I have to count on you to rescue me from a life of boredom,’ Brenda assured Neva J. ‘I can do no wrong in Dad’s eyes and no right in Mom’s,’ Brenda moaned. ‘I love babysitting Billy B on Friday nights, we watch the Friday night Science Fiction Theatre on television,’ Brenda laughed. ‘Billy B is so smart for his age, he sounds like a miniature adult,’ Brenda laughed.

‘Can I come along to Pounds Hollow?’ Cousin Gene asked. ‘I see Brenda go each week and think I can pry myself away from my Monster Mask Collection long enough for a cool dip,’ Cousin Gene said. ‘I will bring my monster masks for a laugh when we wear them on the beach,’ Cousin Gene noted. ‘I know the kids will enjoy them and perhaps their parents as well, Cousin Gene said.

‘I have packed the Merlot and Oscar Mayer Weiners for Chet,’ Neva J said. ‘Have you read the articles in the Daily Journal regarding a peeping tom in the town?’ Neva J asked. ‘Some Eldorado residents caught a glimpse of PT and said he looked a bit like a half-man, half ape,’ Neva J laughed. ‘One reporter said she had been told that PT had the walking gate of Frankenstein,’ Neva J shuddered with joy. ‘Another eyewitness account of PT mentioned that he had fangs like Dracula,’ Neva J winked. ‘One old man said that PT had hair all over his body like the Wolfman, Neva J noted with a wink.

‘My goodness, everyone is running for the hills, Jane observed. ‘Whatever could be the frightening element of our walking on the beach?’ Jane asked. ‘We have our swimsuits on and have applied our Coppertone for a uniform tan,’ Jane commented. ‘Yet the old and young alike have grabbed their beach towels and books, fleeing the beach as well as the swimmers who look as if they have seen a shark,’ Jane commented with surprise.

‘You know I was unable to bring the Universal Studios Monster Masks, but I read that if I believed strongly enough, we would all appear as Monsters,’ Cousin Gene advised. ‘Before me, I see Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolfman in real life preparing for a swim in the cool Pounds Hollow waters,’ Cousin Gene said triumphantly.

‘The beach is enjoyable when we have it to ourselves,’ Chet observed as he scratched his hairy arms.

Moisture-laden clouds are gathering. They are blue-black in color. The weather forecast calls for torrential rains. The word “torrential” is used frequently in these climate change days. Flash flooding is an ever-present danger. Our weather is changing in real time.

I remember my days in Chicago. They seemed carefree if you did not look too closely. We lived in a house that reminded me of the home that the Beav and Wally lived in on the television show Leave It To Beaver. I identified with their TV lives as I had a similar cadre of friends who lived on my street. There were Danny and Pauly, who came to my house regularly. Pauly was younger than Danny and me and laughed at everything. Pauly was good-natured. Once he was laughing so that I told him to stop unless he wanted me to hit him with the toy gun we were playing with. Pauly found this pronouncement especially funny. After I hit him, a bump the size of a goose egg appeared immediately. I felt bad, but the deed was done. Danny and Pauly went home. I apologized and gave Pauly the offending toy gun.

We all went to see Lady And The Tramp at the Chicago Theatre. The Theatre’s Marquee was brilliant. Steve and Susie, along with Danny Pauly and Ivy, were all in attendance for the movie’s premiere. It was Christmastime, and the Chicago streets were replete with shoppers carrying magnificently wrapped gifts. I had a bit of a crush on Lady as well as Susie, Steve’s older sister. I could visualize living in the home with Jim Dear and Darling, Lady and Tramp, and pups. Jock and Trusty reminded me of Steve Pauly and Danny.

Neva J enjoyed the Twist by Chubby Checker. She twisted daily. I did not twist. We attended a church service in a house one evening. The living room and kitchen were packed, and when the service concluded, one of the attendees told us we had listened to their prophet and that he would never die. I was four years old and thought that the church members had been conned. Their eyes were aglow with what they believed was heavenly light. I wondered how we came to attend such a bizarre church service.

Whispers and furtive glances filled our Leave It To Beaver Home. Something was shaking just under our foundation. Dad passed by my bedroom door carrying Neva J and crying. Red lights circled my bedroom. Soon, we moved to Southern Illinois to a town called Eldorado.

Grandma A and Aunt Wanda, and Aunt Vema lived in Eldorado. In those early days, Vema and Guelda both lived with Grandma A. Wanda, and the family had just returned from Alaska. The Hayes family had my cousins Brenda and Billy. Brenda walked with me to school for many days as she was in 8th grade and I was a new first grader. Brenda was wonderful. She listened to me and smiled at the things I told her. My bedroom in the Haunted House on Illinois Avenue was in a narrow utility closet. I had to enter it by climbing onto the bed. We shared the Haunted House with the Hayes family for the first month. Neva J asked me how I enjoyed my first day, and I told her that I had had enough of school and would not be returning. She laughed like Pauly and said I would be attending school for a long time.

I loved the first-grade desk with its top that functioned as a lid for a compartment where you kept your paste, ruler, and books. I loved learning. I have always been an introvert, or at least since Chicago. It was not long into my first-grade experience that President Kennedy was assassinated.

So we bring our memories to the table of life. Some of us sit boldly and purposefully to represent our values, while others sit humbly and appreciative of the opportunity. We humble folks know life’s reversals. We understand what it feels like to be on Leave It To Beaver’s pristine street and to be in the lowest part of the slough of despond. I watched a documentary regarding fundamentalism’s foray into Brazil. What sounded good, bringing the message of Christ to Brazil, ended up as a cruel malformation of the original intent.

I am reminded of the desire of fundamentalists to have prayer returned to schools. I often wonder what they are speaking of, as people can pray anywhere they are. Could it be that they want their prayers and political agenda to be public in the public schools? No one has the corner on faith or understanding. When they assure you that they do, they are like the little church group in Chicago who believed that their prophet would never die.

Every time I consider taking fewer photographs to post on Facebook, I receive kind compliments that cause me to continue. For my retirement years, I walk daily and snap photos of interesting things I see. I share several on Facebook daily. I finally think people must be getting tired of my photos. I have loved snapping photos since the days of receiving my Big Swinger camera for Christmas. The image coming from the camera is magical to me. The camera’s eye sees things that I miss with my human eyes. The camera’s eye sees with no fear or mental reservation. The camera often captures the soul. We Baby Boomers were taught to not stare at people. The photo is unflinching in its portrayal. Pictures reveal to us the hidden world.

We have some fear. It comes with the package. We wear Fear like a three-piece suit. We purchased it at a fine clothing store. It cost a month’s wages. When we are faced with environments that make us uncomfortable, we put on our three-piece suit of Fear. Certainly, it will protect us. When we are asked if we can do a job in our church, we check our watch hanging from a golden chain attached to our three-piece suit of fear and respond No, thank you.

Wrong is in front of us. They are making up public policy on the fly. We know most of what political leaders are saying is bullshit. We know their venom-filled rhetoric is harming vulnerable people. We are in our safe place. We have fear. Perhaps someone else will do it. Perhaps someone else does not have fear and thus will speak out against obvious lies.

I learned in my early days to overcome fear. I saw the best Chancellor of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale fired without cause. She was fired for spite, as Jerry Seinfeld said when he attempted to return a sports coat and gave the reason of spite. I was threatened, and the people who reported to me in the housekeeping department were threatened, but I would not back down and invited the person exuding the threats to have the Board of Trustees and the Governor threaten me as well. I saw bullies make kids’ lives miserable in school. Fear is a formless vapor that, when blown upon, evaporates.

It is incredible to me that our elected leaders cannot muster the courage to vote against a bill that they know hurts the people who elected them to Congress. Is the money, the power, and the perks that good? I have held two elective offices: the president of the Civil Service Council at SIUC and Elder at First Presbyterian Church. The people that I represented were all I could think of.

Life cowers us. Fear rules our lives. We believe fear is our natural state of being. This irrational fear is why we are in our current condition. We are afraid of our neighbors. We fear the end of the world when in reality, our world is going to end in a few short years due to death. We fear offending some people when they do not know our name, or will forget it soon after our encounter with them. We worry about what people will think when they seldom, if ever, think of us.

We fearfully walk in the agenda of our minds. Many falsehoods we believe to be true. We follow an image that others have developed for us. Often, we search for who we are. We see a shadow on the wall where our shadow should be. It looks bold and courageous. It is a strong shadow full of joy. The shadow reveals who we really are without the three-piece suit of fear.

‘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.