‘I have a two-pound stone that is excellent for throwing,’ Stony said. ‘I have discovered that the two-pounder does a lot of damage quick,’ Stony observed. ‘At the last stoning, we so pummeled the accused’s head that you could not recognize her,’ Stony proclaimed. ‘She cried for mercy, and we shouted, Judgment,’ Stony smiled. ‘She said that she had harmed no one and just wanted to live her life as best she could,’ Stony said in a whisper. ‘Someone in the crowd cried out about God’s law and her breaking it,’ Stony whispered. ‘The poor woman said that God was standing beside her and writing in the sand,’ Stony said.

‘You are who God made you and you can not change that,’ Fear said. ‘We must accept who we are for better or worse,’ Fear observed. ‘You frighten me,’ Fear said. ‘I do not understand you,’ Fear observed. ‘What an abominable choice you have made against God’s law,’ Fear said as another stone flew through the air. ‘I am a drunkard and an adulterer, but I am not as bad as you,’ Fear cried.

‘No one asked me my choice for gender assignment nor guaranteed my place in society,’ Chance said. ‘I thought of suicide due to nature’s mistake,’ Chance continued. ‘I have been locked in a prison that I did not construct,’ Chance noted. ‘I wondered if others felt like me,’ Chance observed. ‘Religion, not faith, chose to make the decision for me,’ Chance whispered. ‘I seek peace, not stones,’ Chance explained. ‘I care not what others do, but I have to live in the earthen hut that I was born in,’ Chance said. ‘I pray daily and read the scriptures, I am a Christian, and I help those less fortunate than me,’ Chance said softly. ‘Now you are stoning me and you do not know me, we have never met…if you knew me, you might like me,’ Chance observed.

The Preacher wrote in the sand surrounding the woman…Chance. One line said the primary stone thrower, Stony, identified as a man but had been born a woman. The Stone throwers dispersed. The Preacher offered his hands to Chance, who lay on the ground, frightened. I accept you and love you…The Preacher said.

The older I get, the more I appreciate peace. As a youngster, I wondered what peace looked like. My elders often spoke of peace, and I wondered if I would recognize it when I saw it. Peace has many forms. It is a bit like fairy dust or gossamer wings. Amid a thunderstorm, peace shows up. It may be a brilliant rainbow behind the smoky black clouds. Peace happens kind of like Christmas. In the quiet of a winter morning or the unexpected unity of broken hearts.

Peace sits by the bedside of the lonely. Peace holds the hand of the forgotten. As the parents of a sick child worry, Peace brightens the room through the eyes of their baby. Peace is unobtrusive yet always close by. At times, Peace has its hand on our shoulder and we are comforted. Laughter is heard in a hospice room. Peace is recounting a humorous anecdote. Tears of joy are in every eye…Peace is doing its quiet work.

Peace gets photographed often. All the days of our lives, Peace is in the background of the photo. Never seen until you know what to look for, and then there is Peace.

Looking back on a life, the events that make up our memories capture Peace in the frame. ‘As a man thinks, so is he.’Peace lights up a darkened room and a sad countenance. Peace brings safety in the middle of war. The homeless smile and bid you good morning, good day. The poor share their pittance so that their sister or brother can eat. The little child sleeps as Peace rocks their cradle.

War, death, and destruction are not the natural order of things. Hurtful words are arrows to our hearts. Survival of the fittest is a myth. When we accept a lie as the truth, Peace can not be found. If we believe in an eye for an eye and karma, we seek an elusive Peace. Soon we are blind from the darkness of our souls. We cry out in pain from our festering wound. We want what we do not have and will not give…Peace…

I am sitting on the Writing Porch during a thunderstorm. Clouds like black smoke are passing by. Rain began as a trickle and now is a torrent. A peal of thunder shook my sanctuary. Already it is lessening. What seems frightening may only last a moment on your time clock but can feel like an eternity.

Rain falls in buckets these days. In days gone by, it pitter-pattered on the front lawn; now it falls like the Gatorade poured over the winning football coach’s head at the Super Bowl. As the doorman told me in Toronto, Canada, so many years ago, ‘You better change your slippers,’ when he observed my sandals as I attempted to exit the hotel on a stormy Toronto day. It has been said that a Boy Scout is always prepared.

Once the thunderstorm is over, you wonder what you were afraid of. The world looks peaceful and serene in the light of day. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.’ So it goes with life. We mark each week with anticipation. A holiday here and a birthday there. Storms have bad manners. Our revelry is interrupted callously. There is no ‘May I come in’ or ‘Are you alright’ as the English greet each other. There is the battering of the door and the shaking of the windows. The Wolf is huffing and puffing. We cower behind our two-by-four bullwark. We hope the battlements hold one more time.

The singing of birds fills the air. The sweet smell of honeysuckle. The bullfrog bellows a contented call. Life is good, he says with a broad smile. ‘Don’t worry about a storm here and there…I have seen many,’ Bullfrog says. ‘Once it stormed so much that my family had to move to higher ground,’ Bullfrog said. ‘It was in the days that the humans were fighting…although that would be most days,’ Bullfrog observed. ‘They wondered who was greater and who was less and who would win and who would lose,’ Bullfrog continued.

‘I showed my humans the rainbow over the pond after the storm,’ Helen Heron said. ‘They were amazed and took photos of it,’ HH continued. ‘They wished there were more rainbows,’ HH recalled. ‘I told them that they were quite common at the pond,’ HH noted. ‘No matter the storm you endure or the fear in your heart, God has sent us the Rainbow to promise us of his love and that weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning,’ HH whispered with tears in her eyes.

Dad carried me on his shoulders. I thought I was the center of his universe. He left when I was 5.

Aaron and Jonathon came to live with MJ and me. Sons…what an awesome responsibility. I hoped they were not like fine china and would not break easily. Aaron had a precocious grin. Jonathon jumped out of his crib…daily. Aaron watched everything that I did. He called me DiDa. Jonathon laughed often. Aaron could draw like an artist. He has an artist’s heart. Jonathon writes wonderfully. He thinks deeply.

I have never been worthy of such excellent sons. I keep trying. They are in my mind daily. They are locked in my heart.

We go to Alongis for some fine Italian cuisine. Jennifer is going, and I am excited that she is. How did I come to such blessings? Life is short, and hope is long. I hope for the future, long after I am gone. For the health and happiness of my sons, long after I am gone. I will be watching and thinking of all of the good times.

Dad is looking over the hill and smiling as I wish him Happy Father’s Day…

We attended the new Wes Anderson movie this morning. I would like to live in Wes Anderson’s world. Everything is a bit off-center, and that’s how I like it. I was thrilled to see a few more movies advertised that I want to see this summer. Going to the theatre is a big deal to this old man. I recall spending most Sundays as a boy in the Orpheum Theatre in Eldorado, Illinois. In those halcyon days, you could watch the movie over and over for the same 35 cents. I was Frankenstein, Dracula, the Wolf Man, and John Wayne. The world kept on turning as I munched on popcorn and spent the day in my church.

The Pandemic has altered going to the movies. So many new releases come to television very quickly. Ticket prices are high due to the demand in our area. More people create more revenue. Nevertheless, a darkened theatre and the magnificent screen create another world. A good movie can cause you to forget time and place. You are in the movie with the actors.

Movies stir the imagination. Movies are art, and they produce artists in the audience. Jennifer said that this morning was her first morning movie and her first Wes Anderson movie. She liked both. Movies are a large mirror held up to life. We see ourselves in the films and often work out issues that we have encountered.

The Orpheum was my home away from home. I was never turned away, and I always had a friend in film. We develop a sense of place at the movies. If the flick is about the future, we imagine what it will be like. If it is about the past, we see where we have been. If it is about current affairs, we realize that humans are much more alike than they are different. The Theatre invites us to embrace diversity and inclusion. We think new thoughts and see the world from a different vantage point. No matter what bias we have been exposed to, movies show us a considerate perspective of how others, different from us, live work, and struggle.

Movies are good for what ails us. They are better than castor oil. They are medicine for the soul…

This has been my kind of day. Rain and more rain. I love moseying around in the rain. Mosey is my word from Jennifer, which she says applies to her woods exploring, and it applies to mine as well. I enjoy winging it. I always have! So often in my early years, I couldn’t, but now I can, and it’s a treat. When it rains too hard, I rest in the shelter and think deep thoughts by Jack Handy. I take a thousand photos of the same scene, and they all look different to me.

Of course, we cannot always Wing It. Life brings a book of rules that is heavy and cumbersome. Some people carry the Book of Rules on their backs due to the extreme weight of the treatise. Now with this required burden, many of us seek additional burdens to bear. We are spiritual creatures, so men in their wisdom devise additional rules for the faith they oversee. Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen, but they have taken care of the ‘not seen’ part. Rules from what you wear to how you speak and who your friends are are in the thick catalog. How you spend your money and how much you give to the faith community that you are a member of. Just thinking about God and his mysterious ways is discouraged if it is not in the tome. Folks watch from without the church and wonder why anyone would want to be a part of such suffering.

I remember when poor people were Democrats. If you carried a lunch pail to work, you voted for JFK. My family told me that Republicans were the political party for the rich. We were not rich. There were no virulent missives regarding the opposing political party. Good people were in both parties, and many of the beliefs of each membership overlapped. I was a Reagan fan. He inspired me. He seemed to do more with a wink and a nod than many could do with hard political labor. This was before the Book of Hate was completed. Now, if you are a child of God, you are Republican. Democrats are WOKE. No one seems to care much about what people refer to as WOKE, who have empathy for others and acceptance for all the little children of the world…Jesus taught that.

Winging It is fun. Follow your heart and not your head. Everyone has a place at the table. No one is forgotten, and everyone is heard.

‘I am going to the woods to hear the Preacher,’ Jane said. ‘Many are leaving their churches to hear his message,’ Jane continued. ‘All are welcome and no one is turned away,’ Jane smiled. ‘Wealthy folks and those who have nothing are renewed by his thoughts and simple message of love,’ Jane observed.

‘The Preacher joined me in an Old Fashioned at the Lodge,’ Chet winked. ‘What a good guy, he had some thoughts on government that sounded simple yet profound,’ Chet said. ‘The Preacher noted that government that makes you afraid is not good government,’ Chet observed. ‘He noted that God’s Table is open to everyone without exception,’ Chet commented.

‘Let us fish for a while and tell tall tales,’ Preacher said. ‘More are coming and we must not be rigid about a staring time as God’s message is timeless,’ Preacher noted with a sly smile. ‘Did you like that one? I just thought of the timeless part and thought I would share it with you,’ Preacher laughed. ‘Why would we hurry when God has given us eternity to ponder his creation and our place in it,’ the Preacher asked? ‘The shackles we wear we have forged over a long time, and their weight is heavy,’ Preacher observed. ‘Look at the birds of the air, they toil not, neither do they spin, yet they are arrayed in splendor,’ the Preacher said as he pointed to the birds.

Senator Alex Padilla was forcibly removed from the Department of Homeland Security. The Senator was forced to the ground and handcuffed when he attempted to ask Secretary Noem a question. No, you are not having a nightmare, this is real in our America.

It has been said that power corrupts and ultimate power corrupts absolutely. The plow horse used to wear blinders to prevent the animal from looking to the left or right, thus being deterred from its mission of plowing the field. Or, as in one of my favorite television programs, Veep, with Julia Louis-Dreyfus portraying her as the Vice President of the United States, accidentally walking through a glass door. A political lobbyist hearing of the accident laughed heartily. We do not laugh when the shards are in our hair.

There is a reason that other countries have locked their political dissidents in gulags and thrown away the key. A lack of empathy and respect for viewpoints different than their own. Power shifts like the weather. It is hot today and cold tomorrow. The winds of change are blowing. It is easy to get caught up in the blame game. The coarsening of our society has been happening all of my life. The Southern Illinois Town I grew up in has a pool that was long sought by hard-working families. Recently, those managing the pool were forced to make a public statement that anyone caught using foul language will be asked to leave immediately. Why would there be a need for foul language at a pool in the summertime?

If we continued to poke each other’s eyes out, we would all be blind. Perhaps this has already happened. No matter who you are and the greatness of your knowledge and abilities, there is someone who disagrees with you. Such is life. Jackbooted Thugs took over a country in some of our lifetimes. I was born just a few years after the end of World War II. As Jews were marched into concentration camps, Germans hollered, ‘Goodbye Jew.’ When Supreme Allied Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower required German citizens to see what their military had done to the Jews in the camps, they averted their eyes from the horror. We like living in a Free Country as long as the freedoms are what we want. Remember, the weather is changing.

‘First they came for the socialist, and I did not speak out-because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionist, and I did not speak out-because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out-because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me-and there was no one left to speak for me. Martin Niemoller

School is out. It is time for life lessons. I have always loved learning. I did not have the same affection for school. The regimented structure of education bored me. The human element intrigued me. Air conditioning was not common in schools when I was a student. Multiple fans were the norm both at school and at home. We attended into June, and it was hot. I was wondering what Daniel Boone or Frankenstein were doing with their summer.

‘Let’s go to the movies,’ Chet said. ‘There is a double bill playing of Frankenstein and Dracula,’ Chet grinned. ‘Nothing compares with Halloween in June,’ Chet laughed. ‘Once I fell asleep and dreamed that Frankenstein walked out of the silver screen and asked me which way to the Men’s Rest Room,’ Chet winked. ‘When he returned, he had bought me a Coke and a bag of popcorn,’ Chet observed. ‘Frank is not a bad fellow, and he has a wicked sense of humor,’ Chet said. ‘He told me that he had to get away from his wife as she had a loud voice,’ Chet said. ‘He wondered if he could bunk with me for a night or two and said that he had cigars for both of us,’ Chet chuckled. ‘Cigar Good.’ Frankenstein said with a wide, open-mouthed grin.

‘Chet and I are buddies,’ Frank said. ‘It is so much fun at his house that I have yet to return to the Missus,’ Frank observed. ‘Chet and I eat Oscar Mayer Wieners out of the package and then smoke a stogie,’ Frank noted. ‘I sent a postcard to the wife and told her that I was away on business and would return in the fall after school starts,’ Frank said as he blew smoke rings. ‘I have been reading Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne,’ Frank said. ‘I have learned much,’ Frank offered.

‘So are we in your dream, Chet or is this really happening, as Rosemary will say in a few years in Rosemary’s Baby?’ Jane asked? ‘What about Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, have you read it, Frank?’ Jane asked. ‘I am reading it now as it was referred to me by Mary Shelly,’ Frankenstein noted with a wide smile.

‘I like Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll,’ Invisible Man offered. ‘The through-the-Looking-Glass world of the narrative reminds me of how I feel knowing that no one sees me,’ IM explained. ‘No matter what my needs are, they are ignored by those around me as if I am not in their midst,’ IM said. ‘I stood in the Commodities Line with many poor people and watched as the workers threw the food at them and treated them less than human, and I understood their suffering,’ IM noted. ‘When I picked up a brick of government cheese and it appeared to be floating on its own, the workers fled and I laughed heartily,’ IM said. ‘Really, we invisible people have little recourse but to protest our inhumane treatment,’ IM offered.

‘Let’s eat,’ Neva J announced. ‘Gracing our table today is Frankenstein and the Invisible Man, along with Rosie and Abigail, who many refer to as ‘One Eye’ due to her missing eye,’ Neva J said. ‘Today there are no kings nor crowns, just good people that have been unseen and unheard for too long,’ Neva J said through tears.

Today is a soothing day. I walked on Campus and a squirrel played hide-and-seek with me. The campus was quiet. Wildlife is bold among us humans as they see a lot of us in University confines. We are one of the animals. I thought of the sacred beauty of academic freedom. Freedom of speech in its purest form. Knowledge is advanced through the open doors of the Academy. Any attempt to stifle this promised freedom is an abomination. If we want our education to be more than just a credential, we must have divergent opinions. The sublime dignity of education in opening up human potential and thought is paramount.

When I first came to University, I was amazed at the diversity. Everyone is learning and living together. Hope was in abundance as we broke bread around the table. No authoritarian figures, but people hungry for understanding. Knowledge is its own reward. I soon realized that my life had been cloistered. There was a giant world that I had not availed myself of. I was honored to sit in the presence of people different than me. I was humbled to be accepted. An African student told me that the international students wanted to work with me because I had no prejudice. This high commendation has stuck with me for nearly 50 years.

Living and working together is nirvana. Too often, we seek just the opposite of what makes us happy. The university has a wide open door of acceptance. Not the faux acceptance of the Doctrinaire or the Authoritarian, but the real acceptance of all who enter here is welcome. Peace comes for a purpose that is greater than I. Hope ensues from love. Love is a universal language.

There is peace at the University in its purest form. Yes, dissent happens and is welcome and not verboten. Marching in lock step with an authoritarian leader is something to be afraid of. History has shown that first the Leader goes after the agreed upon enemies, and once they are brought under control, the Leader goes after his own followers. The mystery riddle of Authoritarian Leadership is simple in that it is always about what is best for the Leader…

Yesterday I was taken aback to see multiple ambulances enter the Woods with their lights on and sirens pealing. I have been going to the Woods for the better part of 4 years, and it is marked by its quiet and serenity. I just read about someone falling from a cliff at the Devil’s Standtable Trail. The woman slipped and fell 55 feet to the ground, according to WFCN News. The woman sadly succumbed to her injuries on a helicopter flight to St. Louis.

We are never really safe. Safety is a myth we wrap ourselves in. I think often of my surroundings and the danger inherent in the environment. During the Ice Storm of 2025, a limb hit me on the shoulder as I trekked through the ice and snow. Today, I saw a tree broken in half and wondered if it had been struck by lightning. As a young man, I developed a habit of looking at my surroundings, including who is in my line of sight, all the time. The Old Man in by head is constantly calculating the danger quotient. I am neither an anxious person nor apprehensive. I do pay attention to where I am and who is with me.

We live in dangerous times. Some folks’ emotions are off the charts. Conspiracy Theories are fueling the fire. Bob Dylan told us that we are going to serve somebody.

‘You may be an ambassador to England or France. You may like to gamble, you might like to dance. You may be the heavyweight champion of the world. You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls. But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed. You’re gonna have to serve somebody. Well, it may be the Devil or it may be the Lord. But you’re gonna have to serve somebody.’

We are living in the time of the lyrics of the song are playing out. Danger is inherent in lies and conspiracy. One of the first things I learned as a manager at Southern Illinois University was that my words had an inordinate effect on some. At times, what I said as advice was taken as gospel. Questions were assumed to be criticism. Words have power.

Today, we see the rise of Straw Leaders. Not leaders of natural ability or training but con men and charlatans. Their advice to their follower has danger embedded in it. We are being ginned up to fight and hurt each other. Not for cause but for effect on moving the Straw Leaders’ Political Agenda.

The Lost In Space Robot of the 60s popular science fiction show often said, ‘Danger…Danger Will Robinson, who was his primary companion. We need our own Lost In Space Robot today.