Seventy-two degrees and a steady rain…my kind of day. I have not experienced such a cool day since last spring. Jonathon tells me that if he wants to know anything about the weather forecast he simply asks me. I told him that we old folks enjoy watching the weather. It appears that we may be in store for a bit of the September Rains.

Yesterday at Giant City State Park I enjoyed the sound of silence. The woods are a wonderful place to commune with nature. The sandstone boulders and stone walls are accustomed to visitors. They simply ‘are’ and want you to be the same. I wonder if I have always realized the truth of simply ‘being’ and enjoying a sense of place. I am one of those old people that believe we all have a purpose…a calling…a mission… It is important to have times of silence…where we can hear the still small voice…and not the whirlwind…speak to our souls.

Leaders forget that many honest-hearted people feel marginalized and not seen by them. It is easy and comfortable to hang with your supporters and with those that you work closely with and those who see eye to eye with you…when you are a leader. It is more difficult to offer your outstretched hand to someone who perhaps will not return their hand… It is nice to fellowship with the outgoing and the extrovert and with those who seem to get things done…it takes a dedicated effort to include the introvert and the quiet and those who feel as if they have a lifetime membership in the second tier of the church…or the workplace…

A popular myth is that there are leaders and there are followers. There are those who are blessed with golden speech abilities and herculean planning skills. There are those who have the education and the life skills for the job… While the rest of us are the sheep…who require a diligent Sheepdog.

Many sit silently and watch deterioration and decay and diminishment…and know in their heart that they have some productive thoughts and life skills that could aid and perhaps turn around the dying of a magnificent institution…but no one has taken the time or exerted themselves enough to ask them to join at the table.

Pigeonhole is what we do with fellow congregants and our work colleagues. We develop a definition of a person and in our mind, they never break out of the parameters of that steel structure and form…

Change or Die…is my motto of life. We must recognize when something is not working and make the proper adjustments to facilitate continued growth and success. I had the opportunity to tell both chancellors and presidents of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale that they had a plethora of talent under their noses and for the mistake of pigeonholing them and failing to ask this talented group for their help…our University was losing students by the thousands.

Credentials and certificates we love. Persistent bragging and telling lies for the truth…when done on a continuing basis…convinces a lot of people of the talents of someone who is no more than a good storyteller. Our attention spans are short and our problems are long. We research only the surface of the human talent we are surrounded with…when the needs are deep and require immersive study.

Change is life.

‘It was a great idea to stay overnight at the Gray Plaza Hotel in Marion so that we can explore Giant City, State Park,’ Chet remarked. ‘Yes I thought that it would be fun after our all-day visit to the DuQuoin State Fair for us to spend an additional day and camp overnight at Giant City before we return to Eldorado, Neva J. responded. Is it true that the glaciers caused all of the rock formations in the Park,’ Jane asked. ‘Giant City’ terrain is much different than most of Illinois and looks much more like it belongs in the Ozarks ‘Yes, the boulders are similar to those we saw at the Garden Of The Gods, humongous sandstone, Billy B. answered Jane with a wink and a grin. ‘The boulders are part of the Chesterian Formation and come from the Mississippian Period around 359 million years ago,’ Chet answered with a sly smile. ‘Thank you…Mr. Peabody,’ Jane laughed.

‘Simply a beautiful night to be camping under the stars,’ Neva J. said as if to herself. ‘September is some of the best camping because it is not so hot,’ Darryl agreed. ‘Goodness…did we forget the wine,’ Neva J. asked with a start. ‘No, NJ…it is in the other picnic basket,’ Jane chuckled. ‘I wonder what these rocks would say to us if they could speak,’ Billy B. mused. ‘Give me a blanket…I am chilly,’ Chet responded. ‘Rocks do not get cold,’ Billy B. answered. ‘Not the rocks…me…I am cold,’ Chet said through chattering teeth. ‘Maybe I should place another log on the campfire,’ Darryl said. ‘Yes…but first you will have to find another log…I looked high and low and could not find any more than the wood scraps that I gathered,’ Chet complained. ‘Hand me your flashlight Billy B. and I will make a wood run,’ Darryl said. ‘I will come along and help carry the wood…if we find any,’ Jane commented as she rose from around the dying embers of the campfire.

‘May I help you…’ said a Voice. ‘Pardon me…who is speaking,’ Jane asked with quavering speech. ‘May I help you,’ the Voice repeated. ‘Well yes…we need more wood for the campfire…and could you come out into the light of my torch so that I may see you clearly,’ Jane requested. A young man in brown clothing walked out of the lengthening shadows followed by two other men at his left and his right. ‘Who are you guys,’ Darryl asked. ‘We are members of the Civilian Conservation Corps and we are working on the Giant City Lodge,’ the man in front said. ‘How long have you been in the woods,’ Jane asked. ‘Well it seems like only a few days…FDR is still the President isn’t he,’ the young man asked. ‘No…we had chicken dinner at the Lodge and I saw a photo with all of you guys who worked on the lodge just outside the entrance to the dining room…I saw you three in it,’ Darryl responded.

‘Berl…I told you we took a wrong turn in the thicket, Merle said with a wicked grin.

I traveled to Giant City State Park today. It is only September 2nd…but that is good enough for me. Autumn had begun as far as I am concerned. I marvel at the broken boulders in a little creek that I enjoy taking photos of. I relish looking at the stone wall that was built as a retaining wall for the creek. I think of my father-in-law Berl and his twin brother Merle who worked for the Civilian Conservation Corp and aided in building the Giant City Lodge.

As I rested beneath the old trees and stone walls of Giant City I considered that my surroundings were telling me that they had seen my generation and many generations before me.

Yes…the woods speak to me. As I sit silently listening to the birds and watching the water flow through the ancient creeks…I hear the admonishment of the meaning of life. We live in a bit of an artificial world. Social circles and society and politics and religion have endeavored to construct a Wicker Man that represents our true reality. When I first heard about the internet…I was gobsmacked. I could not fathom that the literature of the ages and connection around our globe…and news available to me as fast as my telephone modem could download it…was available. I grew up searching the dictionary and the encyclopedia and learning my multiplication tables and how to write cursive. How was it possible for the wisdom of the ages to be at my fingertips…without leaving my desk chair? Now at the old age of nearly 65, I have discovered that the internet did not bring only good things…but damaging and destructive and conspiracy-filled content as well…

Easy it is to follow a lie. Research is to discover the truth. Everyone that you know can agree that a lie is truth…but that does not make it so. When Berl and Merle worked for the CCC…they did not have time to listen to conspiracy theories and lies and to follow the hidden agendas of Wolves dressed in Sheep’s clothing. The understood work from dawn to dusk. They understood calloused hands and sore backs and the joy of having enough money to purchase some food for their family. They knew that a stone wall was good. They realized that a stone wall would last and would be there for their children and their children’s children.

Maine is just around the corner. September 1st is here. God is in his Heaven and all is right with the world. I received a request from my friend Kathy today as to whether I would like to read scripture publically in our Sunday Worship Service…and I said yes without reservation. Faith and church and the study of Christ’s teachings have been my compelling passion for well over 50 years. When I was at the doorstep of retiring, I told my replacement that I had endeavored to conduct myself as a manager/administrator…as a Christian. I am not referring to the hard-nosed…John Wayne wannabes who believe that exclusion is the controlling precept of Jesus’ teaching…but simply put…love…forgiveness, and inclusion were the admonishments of the Carpenter that I sought to emulate in my conduct with my colleagues.

Fall allows me to reset my direction and what I want to accomplish with the remainder of my life. I almost never volunteer and I think it comes from my mother’s admonishment to not push myself forward where I may not be wanted. However when I am invited…I am compelled to accept the invitation. I have always been a bit of a rebel. Not a rebel without a cause but rather a seeker of truth and of following my heart and soul. When I read of my blogger and good friends’ struggles with blindness and being, by and large, confined to a wheelchair, and yet her insurmountable spirit…I think that I should do more to help others.

Our world is full of suffering and loneliness and religious/political confusion.,..we should be a lighthouse in the fog of war. We are entering the time of year when we take stock of where we have been and where we are going. We slow down a bit and we reflect on what our year has brought us…our accomplishments and what has yet to be done.

Life is a conundrum and the twists and turns that it can take…suddenly…can change your entire reality. So…we need an anchor in the waves of change and the swells of the Ocean we all are sailing on. Writing serves as an anchor for me. Through writing, I reflect upon and organize what I truly think and believe about the many challenges of our world. Writing is a mission and calling and a concrete expression of my journey back to Jerusalem.

I want to watch the Jerry Lewis Muscular Dystrophy Telethon this Labor Day Weekend…but Jerry is gone. MJ and I and baby Aaron were attending a church convention in Des Moines, Iowa many years ago. We were lodging at the local Howard Johnsons Hotel. They were famous for their seafood and were considered an upscale Hotel. I felt somewhat alone and out of place until I saw that they were hosting the Jerry Lewis Telethon. I had watched the Telethon since I was a child…now…I felt at home.

Aaron was born in November…I recall with great joy carrying him into our little four-room home in Elkville. I knew that a new chapter in MJ and my Story was in my arms…and I was overjoyed…

Tomorrow my four favorite months begin. I have learned to like them all…but the upcoming four are special. I have a vivid memory of watching the Eldorado Eagles football team play under the lights…from my front porch which was direct across from the football field. We had moved to Eldorado and rented a big haunted house and it was chilly too cold when we got there…especially at night. I began first grade at Hillcrest School which was at the end of Illinois Avenue. My cousin Brenda and I walked there each morning and walked home each evening. She was in eighth grade. Halloween came up quickly and mom purchased a costume for me from Muckley’s Ben Franklin Dime Store. The Dime Store had everything a first grader could want. I received a Christmas gift of a Johnny West action figure for that Christmas. Thereafter I was hooked on Action Figures.

‘I can not believe that the toy manufacturers have expanded the little toy cowboys to a foot tall,’ Billy B. exclaimed. ‘If you think Johhny West is cool you should see my Daniel Boone…his face looks just like Fess Parker who plays him on the Daniel Boone TV show,’ Chet replied. ‘For the Halloween Party let us wear costumes like Johnny West and Daniel Boone…and I will come as Jane West…Johnny’s wife,’ Jane said. ‘That sounds like fun and I have a coonskin cap already,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘We will conduct a little Play for the other kids before the best costume is judged…and I know that Mrs. K will give her permission,’ Billy B. announced.

So the three western actors gathered at Billy B.s house and began Play Practice. There was a fire in the fireplace and yet the big Victorian house was cold. Neva J. served the Troupe hot chocolate and apple cider with pumpkin pie. ‘After the hot chocolate and pie I am somewhat sleepy,’ said Darryl. Now Darryl had come along to portray Frankenstein…because it was a Halloween Play. ‘I think we should call the Play…Johnny West Meets Frankenstein…,’ Chet advised. Suddenly there was a knock at the massive mahogany front door. ‘Fuller Brush Man,’ said the man dressed in a suit and tie and carrying an attache case that was full of his brushes. ‘We do not need Fuller Brushes today,’ said Neva J. ‘How about Electrolux Vacuums…everyone needs an Electrolux Vaccum,’ the salesman pleaded as he pulled out from behind him… Electrolux. ‘How about a set of World Book Encyclopedias…I see that you have kids…they need to be educated,’ the salesman pleaded…with bloodshot eyes. ‘What do you really want,’ Neva J. asked. ‘I am so hungry Maam…I have not had a bite all-day,’ the man said as one of his bloodshot eyes popped out of its socket and rolled across the wrap-around front porch. ‘Oh my goodness…come in and have some pumpkin pie and apple cider, Neva J. said as she watched the salesman of multiple products enter the living room…dragging one leg. ‘We should call a doctor for you,’ Jane beseeched. ‘Oh no need really…you see I am a bit of a Zombie…but I am also a Vegetarian,’ said the Zombie as he devoured the Pumpkin Pie…

Time changes things. Or…where was I while I was getting old? I recall the many times that a colleague or friend guessed my age as significantly older than I actually was. I was honored and pleased that I appeared mature beyond my chronological years. I became a supervisor when I was 21. My full-time staff were much older than me and even some of my student staff were older as well. We wore uniforms but I wore a cardigan sweater in the cool and cold months as I thought that the look lent me a bit of gravitas. When asked how old I was…I would respond, how old do you think I am? Well…those days have passed a long time ago. Now people younger than me speak to me somewhat differentially and with an eye to my probable diminished capacities. On October 24th I turn 65…and I think that I still have the curse/gift of looking older than I am.

Sixty-five means Medicare. I have thought about Medicare and worried about the enrollment process for most of the year. I have had wonderful insurance from my career at Southern Illinois University since I was 20. This morning I spoke with a lovely lady who finished my enrollment process into Medicare and I wondered what I was, ‘Crying about Mon,’ as the parking attendant in Philedelphia asked me years ago when I did not want to leave the car windows down and the car keys on the driver’s seat…to facilitate his parking of the automobile.

Old is really a state of mind. You can either bemoan your lost youth…or be ecstatic about attaining the age that you are. I choose the joy of life. I enjoy books and my life has indeed been an interesting and engaging read… I discovered as a child that I certainly was not better than my neighbor…but they as well were no better than me. Seek your own path and know your own mind. Do not wait for a leader to tell you the path to take or what you should be thinking. Make your own mistakes and be proud they are yours. Sing your own song and enjoy the music.

God speaks to all of us. If you need assurance of God…stand in the woods and listen.

‘Well… a week from now will be Labor Day…and Pounds Hollow will be closed for the season,’ said Billy B. ‘Yes and after that Halloween is here again,’ Jane said with a wide smile. ‘Especially for us since we have Halloween fun for most of September and October,’ Chet observed. ‘I think you all are forgetting our annual trip to the DuQuoin State Fair,’ Darryl implored. ‘Indeed it is time again for the Fair…and the Malones Taffy and Barbecue and Lemon Shake-Ups,’ Neva J. extolled. ‘This year I am going to go behind the curtain at the Headless Woman Show and see if she is truly headless,’ said Jane with a laugh.

‘A trip to the DuQuoin State Fair is like a trip to Europe for me…with all of the unique and strange things to see and the Carnival…which is scarier than the Freak Shows as far as I am concerned,’ Chet noted. ‘Are you afraid of the Scrambler,’ asked The Wiz, who decided to come along with the group to the Fair, or are you afraid of the wizened person who operates the Scrambler?’ ‘Both…yes a bit of both…I cracked my head on a Scrambler at a little Carnival in Eldorado and had to be taken to Ferrel Hospital,’ Billy B. answered. ‘The Scrambler threw me against the metal walls of the compartment and I had to have two stitches and the operator grinned at me with a wide smile and he had no teeth,’ Billy B. continued. ‘I told the Carnival Manager that if anything was wrong with Billy B. I would sue him and he brought us a gigantic Polar Bear stuffed toy,’ Neva J. said with her eyes wide and angry. ‘After the Manager talked to us we drove off and as we passed the Old Wizend Scrambler Operator…he smiled his hideous smile once again and waved and said, ‘Come back soon…for another…Scramble.’

‘Carnivale’, cried the Barker! ‘Enter and partake of the mysteries of the dark side of the State Fair,’ the little man continued. ‘You did hear…did you not…that last State Fair six Carnivale visitors have not been seen again after they’re entering the Carnivale,’ The Wiz asked the group. ‘I read that they were from Eldorado…like us,’ Chet remarked. ‘It is starting to rain and I saw some lightning and heard thunder,’ Neva J. said. ‘Let’s go into the Beer Tent and take shelter until the storm passes over,’ Darryl suggested. ‘Greetings friends…have you traveled far…are you thirsty,’ asked the wizened old man with no teeth. ‘You look vaguely familiar to me…have we met before,’ Billy B. asked. ‘Perhaps only in our dreams,’ the old man smiled. ‘Have you any wine,’ Neva J. asked. ‘We do have some mulled cider and a sweet absinthe…me lady,’ the barkeep answered. ‘How about beer since we are in the Beer Tent,’ The Wiz inquired. ‘We have Mead and warm ale…for men who want to get drunk,’ the Barkeep replied.

The storm passed and our intrepid group of State Fair attendees left the Beer Tent. Before their widening eyes were horses and carriages and oxen to pull the large Carnivale Wagons. None of the Eldorado 6…could remember where Neva J. had parked the ’57 Chevy.

‘Come along now Eldoradoians…you have to earn your keep at the Carnivale…if you want a place to eat and bunk down for the night…unless one of you wants to be The Geek,’ said the bearded woman. ‘Can any of you bite the head of a chicken…’

Our Church Choir at First Presbyterian in Carbondale debuted this morning…and I was blessed. It has been a while since I heard our Choir sing due to Our Pandemic. This morning sounded like music from heaven. Our Choir Director Carlyn Zimmerman is a consummate professional. She has such a welcoming spirit and a lovely voice… she compels the congregation’s rapt attention. This morning I saw what we had been missing as the wonderful college students sang for us along with members of our congregation. Jonathon said that next week he must attend services in person rather than by Zoom…and I agree…

When I was a child…Troll Dolls were all of the rages. It seemed that I saw them everywhere that I went. They are little dolls with funny faces and hair that sticks straight up and is multicolored. I discovered that my favorite store, Electric Larrys, had a vintage Troll Doll for sale…and off I went to purchase it. We were holidaying with my brother Brock and Marcy, who is like my sister, and Jaime and Morgan and Jeb. Jaime is collecting Vintage Troll Dolls…I have my mission.

‘Although troll folklore existed for centuries, Thomas Dam, a Danish woodcutter is considered to be the father of the very first troll doll as we know them today. Dam dolls were created in 1959 and spread to the U.S. in the early ’60s. Google

Sunday is a good day. I feel better on Sunday. I feel enriched on Sunday when I can hear our wonderful Church Choir and find a Vintage Troll Doll…for Jaime…

‘Maine is just two weeks away,’ said Chet with a sly grin. ‘I am excited about this trip…and the next one with Brock and Marcy and perhaps Morgan and Jeb,’ Billy B. said with glee! ‘We had such a good time with them at Kentucky Lake…I wish we could be with them every day,’ Jane said. ‘That Frisbee game gave me a heck of a workout,’ JB exclaimed! ‘I loved riding Jebs’ Jet Ski and smoking a cigar with Billy B.,’ AB laughed. ‘Morgan is witty and refreshing with her candor and humor,’ Billy B. noted. ‘I love to hear about her work with dogs…and I admire her dedication to her avocation,’ Jane remarked.

‘The card game that Marcy brought was more fun than a barrel of monkeys,’ AB said with a smile. ‘I have not laughed so hard in many years,’ Jane commented…I am ordering that game for home. ‘I lost every hand…and never enjoyed a game more…it was so wonderful to see everyone so happy and joyful and laughing heartily,’ Chet remarked. ‘Marcys’ Banana Pudding was to die for,’ Billy B. said as he licked his lips. ‘Uncle Brock makes a burger like I have never experienced…it melts in your mouth,’ JB said with a wistful look. ‘It seemed that time stood still for a little while,’ AB said softly.

‘The painting of the lone boat with no passengers in it floating in an inlet of Kentucky Lake bowled me away…I stared at it and wished that we could all be together all of the time…and suddenly we were all living on the Lake in Tennessee,’ said Billy B.with a spiritual look in his eyes. ‘Brock and I had gotten another tattoo and we were sipping White Claws and Rye Whiskey and even some Moonshine,’ Billy B. said in a whisper. ‘Morgan let us help her with her Dog Enterprise and Jaime told us wonderful stories of our new home…’

It is DuQuoin State Fair time again in Little Egypt. I walked the streets of DuQuoin City this morning and found a unique peace in my visit. My spring and summer project of taking photos across Southern Illinois continues. I sat alone in a lovely and amazingly cool pavilion that the people of DuQuoin had constructed. There was wonderful rod-iron seating and a soothing fountain and reflection on the good people that constructed the magnificent buildings on the Town Square. Some of them have fallen into disrepair but there seems to be a concerted effort to restore and maintain the historic Town. I thought of the good and hardworking people of DuQuoin that worked diligently to have magnificent architecture adorning their precious Town. Former generations built for the future. At one point a man, not much younger than me, rode past on his bicycle and bid me good morning, and remarked what a wonderful day it was. Since I have retired I make myself sit and look deeply at what is surrounding me. People demonstrate their hearts through their work. The lovely buildings of DuQuoin illustrate the good hearts of her residents. We need to be a bit more like the Tortise than the Hare of the famous fable. Let us take time to see the miracles around us…let us take time to hear our family as they speak from their souls…to us.

My good blogger friend told me that she was amazed at how similar our life experiences had been. She noted that she had studied theology for many years as I had. She mentioned that she had lectured on the subject…while I have spoken often in Church in my younger years…however I have never formally lectured. Faith and the study thereof have been my overwhelming passion for over 50 years. I did officiate at numerous funerals…again in my younger days. As a young man I had a deep desire to become a minister…but doubted that I was fully up to the task. My friend’s blog can be found at blindwilderness.wordpress and she is one of the most insightful writers regarding subjects that many shy away from discussing… her writings have been an encouragement to me.

Encouraging is what I have set my sail to be. Life brings us many discouragements and reversals and disappointments. I have a dark side…but I try not to let the Old Man In… The folks that I remember are the folks that encouraged me…and their words made all of the difference. When I read my friends’ writings I think…what an unconquerable spirit. Churches do not understand what they are missing. Both within their congregations…and outside their four walls are members of our human family that know God. I am not referring to some religious doctrine or dogma…they really are acquainted with the Creator…The Great Spirit…

So often we are like the rich man who wants to build bigger barns. We feel unloved and forsaken…while our Guardian Angel stands next to us. We feel somewhat forgotten when the magnificence of our Universe envelops us. We travel through this dreamscape of life wondering what our ultimate reality is to be.

Hateful and hurtful and spiteful and seeking revenge and redress for all of the wrongs that have been bestowed upon us…rather perceived or real…is the road to depression and destruction. Seek the soaring of spirit and the beauty of love…for peace…