The sublime beauty of autumn surrounds the old man. The crows have grown accustomed to me. They walk around me as if we are of the same family. Indeed we are in the grand plan. Crows talk with each other and have excellent memories. Crows know whether you are friend or foe. I am honored by their trust. There was a falling noise in the Woods this morning. I was there to hear it.

The quiet life suits me. My reflections comfort me. Memories warm me. Cruelty is abominable. When those in power take joy in being cruel to those who have no voice I am ashamed. We are better than this. Our road is rocky hilly and has drop offs. We must stay in the middle. The holidays are just around the corner. Let us settle our hearts on good things. If we focus on the good the evil will not flourish. Evil grows on the petrol of our hate. Does hate make you feel emboldened? When your point has been made and the hurt that your righteous indignation is revealed is Christ pleased? As the children cry in fear are you satisfied with you crusade?

Honesty is hard. The sword of truth cuts both ways. Masked men scare many good hard working people. Their temporary power is a tonic to their testosterone induced mania. They live in the moment of the faux king. His word is law and all must bow the knee. The old ways of kindness humility and mercy are out of date and the Emperor has taught us what Jesus really meant when he said to love one another as I have loved you. It is fun and exciting until they knock in your door and grab your children out of their beds. The holidays are coming.

So Christmas is coming. Peace on Earth and goodwill toward men. Jesus born in a manger among the animals and straw. No prosperity doctrine found. No ICE agents with masks to round up the unruly brown people.

We seek and search for the answers to our purpose and mission. Faith is a good vehicle to reach some conclusions. It does not provide all of the answers. Faith or Christian dogmas can morph into an aberration. The movie Substance with Demi Moore was a wonderful example in how the search for beauty morphs into monster. So it goes that what we call Christian no longer fulfills the definition of the message that Jesus taught in the New Testament. In many corners of our nation it has become an aberration.

Thanksgiving is MJ’s favorite holiday. She loves to host the event and see all of our loved ones around the table and card table. We have been hosting the event for well over 30 years. A day for everyone to come to the table. Red Yellow Black and White all are precious in his sight. Those who have no home no voice no advocate. This is a noble cause. A cause of love in the instinctive sense humans are born with. A celebration of life hope and the human family. If these are values we hold highly why not hold them throughout the holiday season and in to the New Year?

‘Thanksgiving Abigail is coming and Rosie,’ Neva J said. ‘Neither had a place for Thanksgiving Dinner and both are my good friends,’ Neva J continued. ‘Abigail has had one eye since her days in Vaudeville and people call her ‘One Eye’ in bitter humor,’ Neva J said softly. ‘Due to her loneliness Rosie talks to herself from time to time and people move to the other side of the steet when she is walking uptown,’ Neva J said solemnly. ‘They are members of our family,’ Neva J said with conviction.

Quiet is heard with the heart. The hustle and bustle of summer is yielding to the quiet of fall. There is a permanence in silence, alone with your thoughts. Does a tree fall in the woods if no one sees it? Who is watching? We wait for the other shoe to drop. At times, we are obsessed with shoes. Will the shoe dropping invade the quiet? The show is spectacular. The activity is a bit like the ants on an anthill. They move with a sense of purpose and place. The ant’s mission is to work with the ant community. Many ants make the work light. So it goes with our mystery adventure.

From the slap on the bottom by the doctor until now, we have been in it. There was a home life of play and learning to walk. Then school with so many funny and different personalities. The playground with steel monkey bars and a merry-go-round that kids fell off of. The protective padding on the ground under the merry-go-round was stones. Sitting in class, wondering why the teacher was talking so much. The burden of study. Education has its place, as God does not drop down the knowledge of living via Amazon Prime.

How did we get here, and where are we going? We seek the one right way to travel to the other end of life. Our way is the best, and no other way matters. Heathen and unschooled in the golden path, we say. We walk the same path our parents walked, or choose a totally different path to prove our independence. We are looking and watching for the Secret.

‘What a long corridor this is,’ Billy B said to his companions. ‘We were hiking in the Woods and now we are in this dark herculean hall,’ Billy B noted. ‘I know this is a Halloween Hike, but this is weird,’ Billy B proclaimed. ‘I see a Veil at the end of the Hall,’ Billy B. continued. ‘I wonder if the Secret is behind the Veil,’ Billy B mentioned. ‘I have been looking for the Secret all of my life,’ Billy B said.

‘A child is guarding the Veil,’ Chet said. ‘She is smiling and beckoning us to come forward,’ Chet noted. ‘She has a beautiful smile,’ Chet said. ‘Let us go in and see the Secret,’ Chet said. ‘I see through the crack in the Veil many unusual colors and a crystal sea,’ Chet noted. ‘There are people I have known before and places I have been,’ Chet said. ‘The world looks strangely familiar yet very different,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘There is my miniature pool table in my bedroom and the painting of Jesus looking over Jerusalem, Chet whispered. ‘I am reading the Bible in the kitchen adjacent to the Wood/Coal stove, and the Bible pages are curling up due to the heat,’ Chet noted. ‘Neva J is hollering Hit the deck, you rubberneck, Chet laughed. ‘There is Christmas dinner with Aunt Vema and Aunt Wanda and Uncle Bill around the dining room table,’ Chet laughed. ‘The little Christmas Tree sitting on the end table that Neva J was so proud of,’ Chet observed. ‘Driving to Elkville with Neva J at the wheel to attend church,’ Chet said. ‘Walking in the Woods with my Guardian Angel in the autumn, Chet sighed.

‘Perhaps we were here all along and did not realize it,’ Jane said. ‘We were preparing for something totally different when we had a foretaste of the world to come,’ Jane continued. ‘We were in the dressing room preparing to go on stage,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘We were learning our parts and our lines,’ Jane said with tears in her eyes…

The nice lady at the Health Department told me that I had a birthday coming up. I answered yes and thought about how I relish my birthday. Especially now that I am in the Golden Years. I am excited to reach another year. I have lived longer than I suspected I would. Another notch on the calendar is fun. Life is a tonic. Each day, I expect an adventure. Another mystery to solve. What a rollercoaster ride. Peace is my companion. Goodwill is my guide. Hope is my morning eggnog. When someone tells me that they find my blog interesting, I am renewed. When others like my photos, I consider their sweetness. When I see some rejoice in the suffering of their fellow humans, I am sad. We are just visiting. We own nothing. All of our possessions go back to the dust. We leave our footprints on people’s hearts. Did we see them? Did we hear them? When they reached a hand for ours, did we grasp it?

Quite is lovely. Mosey along, looking for the Secret. Return good for evil. Give hope where hate dwells. The leaves of October are in their glory and falling to the Earth. Time to think of bonfires and stories spun by storytellers. Our truths are contained in stories. The hope of heaven is a story we comfort ourselves with. Not all stories are fiction. We think about the coming of the Christ child. The Christmas Story of his being born in a manger of his mother and the shepherds and animals of the stable comforts our understanding of where we live. Most of us are not elite. We are neither rich nor powerful. Jesus came for all of us. He was no respector of persons.

We read of the golden streets of heaven and the thrones and majesty. We hear that God has a mansion with our name on the door. Many have mansions right now and have done little to help the poor. Perhaps the Bible Story was written in language we could understand.

‘Let’s make a Halloween Play that will address the stress of our world,’ Jane said. ‘Frankenstein, Wolfman, and Dracula can conduct a round table discussion about helping the needy,’ Jane offered. ‘They could hold the dialogue with the President and his key advisors,’ Jane grinned. ‘We could portray it as a Summit for Peace,’ Jane exulted.

‘We must invite people from all races and religions to ask questions,’ Chet suggested. ‘The poor and homeless must have a seat at the table,’ Chet noted. ‘This could be a Halloween Play for the ages,’ Chet danced on one foot and then the other. ‘President Kennedy and Premier Kruschev along with Dr. Martin Luther King and Malcom X,’ Chet said with aplomb. ‘Frank N. Stein will be the moderator,’ Chet laughed. ‘The movie monsters are not the scary creatures; they highlight the humans who created them,’ Chet noted.

‘Welcome to all attending,’ Frank N. Stein intoned. ‘This is a Peace Summit that has been a long time coming,’ Frank noted. ‘We all agree that we must pull back from the abyss or be consumed by it,’ Frank N. Stein said solemnly. ‘Our first speaker will be President Kennedy,’ Frank said.

‘Welcome, all we are at the door of either peace in our time or nuclear destruction of all of us,’ President Kennedy said. ‘We all love our children, we all breathe the same air, we all want peace,’ Kennedy noted. ‘The recent altercation between the Soviet Union and the United States regarding Cuba is a mile marker of what is ahead if we do not pull back from the cliff,’ Kennedy said. ‘As Benjamin Franklin said, we shall hang together or hang separately if we do not unite,’ President Kennedy warned.

‘This is a special Halloween production,’ Wolfman said. ‘We all have a little wolf in us,’ Wolfman noted with a toothy grin. ‘We must suppress our evil desires for the common good,’ Wolfman advised. ‘Who does not like to howl at a full moon? I know I do,’ Wolfman laughed. Who does not like to run through the forest with his shirt in shreds just for the feeling of freedom and fun in the night,’ Wolfman asked. ‘We must control our animal instincts with a little silver for assurance,’ Wolfman laughed.

Another glorious day! October paints fine art. Serenity and peace. Life is as good as we allow it to be. We look for the pot of gold at our front door. Such a life. What an adventure. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.’ We sit under the Tree. The acorns fall, and we know not from whence they came. Good things happen, and we continue to eat of the bounty and look not for our benefactor. We are called upon to let go. Spending the bulk of our lives acquiring, we now have to release. It is all a dream. As we rode the carousel, we reached for the brass ring. When we grasped it in our hot little hand, we rejoiced. Now we were in the game. Now we were players. The world was our oyster.

I have a new Outback Leather Hat. I like its wide brim. I strike a peculiar look. I am at home with the preculiarity. That is me. I am a little off center. I think a bit differently than some. I noticed Pastor Kerry this Sunday and thought, ‘What a good guy.’ Simply a good human being. I appreciate all he has done for our little congregation. His brilliant sense of humor has lightened my load. He has an infectious smile. To know him is to understand the joy of being a Christian. He retires at the end of the year, and I will miss him.

A good pastor is a gift from God. Someone who brings the Christian message as Jesus intended. Christian life is refreshing and rejuvenating when lived as Christ taught. Fall brings a spring in the step. We spy with our little eye the holidays. A time for renewal and reflection. Where have we been and where are we going?

‘I am excited about the fall bonfire,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘We will be dressed in our Halloween costumes and playing our Halloween roles,’ Chet noted. ‘Of course I will be the Lost In Space Robot,’ Chet winked. ‘I am excited that Billy B will play Dr. Smith,’ Chet noted. ‘We will land on Alpha Centauri and have a dialogue with the inhabitants of the planet,’ Chet laughed. ‘Of course, Dr. Smith will proclaim, ‘Oh, the Pain.’Will Robinson will rescue us from the ensuing battle, and I will say, ‘That does not compute,’ Chet said. ‘ The aliens’ costumes will look like they were purchased at the Ben Franklin Dime Store,’ Chet laughed. ‘The budget for Lost In Space was always wanting,’ Chet winked.

‘Where are we?’ Will Robinson asked. ‘We have landed in Roswell, New Mexico, on the planet Earth,’ the Robot answered. ‘Before us a Flying Saucer that followed us down and crashed on the approach to Roswell,’ the Robot continued. ‘We are in 1947,’ the Robot continued. ‘Mr. Mac Brazel is here asking questions,’ the Robot reported. ‘This is his property,’ the Lost In Space Robot said matter-of-factly. ‘Mac has already seen the little aliens with big heads and big black eyes,’ the Robot noted. ‘Jesse Marcel believes the flying saucer and the little Grey Men are extraterrestrial, the Robot intoned. ‘This will be covered up by the military at this time due to the government not admitting their knowledge of life on other planets,’ the Robot assured.

‘Where are you from?’ Dr. Smith asked the Greys. ‘Are you from Alpha Centauri?’ Dr. Smith asked. ‘I stowed away on the ship and we left Earth five years ago,’ Dr. Smith asked. ‘You look like Alpha Centaurians, ‘ Dr. Smith observed. ‘Your eyes are kind and large,’ Dr. Smith observed with a smile.

‘We have come to warn the inhabitants of Earth,’ Grey Alien said. ‘We come in peace,’ Grey Alien continued. ‘We are creatures of peace,’ GA informed. ‘What you seek surrounds you,’ GA informed. ‘War is not the answer,’ GA said. ‘Bombs are not the answer,’ GA said. ‘Peace is the answer,’ GA promised.

The days are getting shorter. The evening shadows fall. Cool air is resplendent in Brooks Pond. There is hope for good. The Cubs lost, but there is next year. A single bird tweets to its children that it is time to come home. They are out doing what kids do in the fall. Jay Bird is watching Lassie on TV. Jay B. likes the adventures of Timmy and Lassie on Sunday night. Soon it will be time for bed and school on Monday morning. Jay Bird considers how regular life is with Monday through Friday school, and then the fun weekends. The Thing played at the Orpheum Theatre. It is a scary flick with James Arness playing the monster. The same actor who portrayed Marshall Dillon on Gunsmoke. Or as Chester called him, Mr. Dillon. Jay Bird did not often see Gunsmoke, as it was after his bedtime.

Autumn comes with what is and what was. The Bullfrog Quartet has on their L.L. Bean Sweaters. The days are warm, but the nights are cold. At least cold now but later in the winter, it will seem temperate. Soon, it will be prime leaf-viewing season. My birthday week is the epitome of changing leaves. It was October 1963 when we sat on the wrap-around front porch of the Victorian Haunted House we rented in Eldorado. We watched the Eldorado Eagles Football Team play across the Illinois Avenue. Uncle Bill Junior, and Jay Bird. The air was brisk. The lights were bright. The fans cheered. It was another world. There was a well in the backyard from which emanated weird sounds. The football players appeared spectral under the lights. Junior smoked Pall Malls and Bill L & M cigarettes. They spoke of their World War II experiences and laughed about unseen events, at least to Jay Bird.

A mournful cry comes over Brooks Pond. It is dark and impossible to see where it is coming from. It sounds a bit like a wolf and a lamb talking. Could it be a sad child? At first, it sounds like a Halloween sound effect. The longer it goes, the more frightening it seems. The Bullfrogs sing in muted tones this evening. The crying wolf-lamb-child has affected their resonance. They hum their musical score, listening to a mixture of fear and frivolity. Are we headed to the zenith or the abyss? Did the wolf prevail or the lamb? Was the child part of the guttural cry or an observer of the eternal fight of good and evil?

Forty-seven years ago today, I began at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale. I was working for my friend Brent, laying carpet. I asked him if I could take a few minutes to walk to a payphone to see if I had a telephone call from SIU. When I called our pastor’s wife, she joyously told me that I had been hired at the University and was to be at the Building Services Office at 4:00 that afternoon. I was overjoyed and called MJ from the Payphone to give her the good news. Our lives had just changed. When I reported to the Office, the custodial supervisor spoke with me for nearly an hour. I finally asked him what the job paid per hour, and it was fifty cents more than what I had thought. Mr. Young told me that the fastest way to make a good name in the organization was to do a good job. I began that night to work on the Good Name part of the plan.

MJ was a school teacher, and I was a poor boy from Eldorado. I wanted to make a good life for us. We were able to trade our two junker automobiles for a new LTD Coupe. I could not imagine what it would be like to have a new car. The Christmas of 1978, I thought as we drove to see Grandma Neva J and Grandpa Earl, that I was bringing them Christmas gifts in our new car. In early 1979, we purchased a small house. It had a massive picture window and a concrete driveway. I thought I was a millionaire.

Some days define us. October 10, 1978, set us on a happy path. I watched as my Hare friends ran past me while I moseyed along. I was the tortoise, seemingly slow to get off the starting block. I took everything in for later use. I understood that the race was not to the swift or the strong. I knew my Guardian Angel was with me. I had faith that everything would be alright.

Significant days happen to us unawares. We have to look back to see. Many of us believe that God is watching. Since he has always been and always will be, he sees our lives from the beginning to the end. God must not linearly follow our story. He is present in all of the moments of our lives.

Looking forward and watching for what is coming around the corner. Christmas is coming. A time for family and friends. Love and good food. Gifts to commemorate the gift of Christ come to live with us. The old truths are the best. Not the muscular John Wayne Christian Nationalist philosophy. Not the get-rich scheme of the prosperity doctrine. I knew Grandma A was a Christian. She was not rich. She followed what her pastor preached and read her Bible daily. Grandma A’s house was open to all. If she had food, you had dinner. Neva J was like her mom. If you needed a coat, Neva J would give you one. If you had trouble paying your light bill, Neva J would pay it. The shunned of the town were Neva J’s friends.

‘Why must we gather in the Woods?’ Chet asked the Preacher. ‘Not long ago, we were welcome in the finest churches in the town,’ Chet continued. ‘The poor sat with us in the pews and we helped them get on their feet,’ Chet noted. ‘We were humble and thought little of our accomplishments,’ Chet said. ‘We considered others better than ourselves,’ Chet whispered. ‘We learned from others rather than preach to them,’ Chet considered.

‘Christians were a minority in Jerusalem in the days of Christ,’ the Preacher said. ‘Following the carpenter and his band of fishermen was not popular,’ the Preacher continued. ‘The Pharisees and Sadducees did not accept Christ’s message of love and sought to silence him,’ the Preacher said.

The Autumn air is refreshing. It holds the promise of the holidays. Hope is in the smells and the leaves. The dappled sunlight plays through the limbs of the trees. Suprised by joy, we venture into the future. At times, we know what we do not know. Our counsel is true, we think. Buffeted by chance and time, we believe we understand the future. Surprise is a constant in our journey. Happiness is peeking around the corner at us. The chapters of our time turn like the leaves on the trees. We may not realize the chapter has changed.

Fall teaches me that I will never complete my education. I learn new things daily. Walking as a human on Earth is a constant surprise. Life does not come with an instruction manual. What you think is going to happen often does not. When you are certain that something will not happen, it does. The eyes of Texas are upon you. People are watching.

The Preacher gathered his little flock in the Woods. They gathered seeking acceptance. They had come from fear. The Leader cried out for the blood of his enemies. Retribution was his lodestar. The church in the Woods was a sanctuary. The Preacher was prophetic. The Woods residents came wearing their best. Mr. Mole had on his best suit. His spectacles were perched precariously on his nose. He carried his copy of The Wind In The Willows. Mr. Mole often quoted Edgar Allen Poe. Mr. Mole had heard that the Preacher accepted all of God’s creation. The Preacher had no fear. Mr. Badger joined Mr. Mole in his vest and leather hat. Mr. Badger knew cold weather was coming. Mr. Badger had told Mr. Toad to dock the boat on the lake in the Woods so that they would have a means of transportation home after the meeting.

‘I am so pleased you all could come,’ the Preacher said. ‘Without our conclave are wolves in sheep’s clothing,’ the Preacher said. ‘The message of God is to love each other as you love yourself,’ the Preacher said. ‘Fear not the ravings of an unstable mind,’ the Preacher said. ‘All are welcome here and no one shall be denied, the Preacher said. ‘Money is not the secret of the Creator,’ the Preacher proclaimed. ‘Capitalism is not the doctrine of Christ,’ the Preacher noted. ‘Good is coming if you can receive it,’ the Preacher promised. ‘God created the animal kingdom and the human family to live together in harmony,’ the Preacher promised. ‘Hate is nowhere in the Bible,’ said the Preacher. ‘A storm cloud is passing over but will soon be gone, and the Sun will shine again,’ the Preacher said.

‘I loved what the Preacher said,’ Mr. Mole said. ‘He accepts all of God’s creation without favorites or cliques,’ Mr. Mole noted. ‘I felt welcome as a nearsighted Mole,’ Mr. Mole noted. ‘I think we must learn to love each other or go into the abyss,’ Mr. Mole said solemnly.

‘This Halloween, we shall camp in the Woods on Halloween night,’ said Chet. ‘We will dress in our Halloween costumes and drink hot cider and Merlot that Neva J will provide,’ Chet laughed. ‘I will be camping as the Lost In Space Robot,’ Chet informed. ‘We will build a campfire and tell ghost stories,’ Chet grinned. ‘I have a doozy regarding the Headless Horseman, Chet winked. ‘I saw the real Headless Horseman last year in the Woods,’ Chet said somberly. ‘He held a Jack-O-Lantern under his arm to play the role of his head,’ Chet said with a shudder. ‘When he spoke to me, the words came from the Jack-O-Lantern’s gaping mouth,’ Chet said. ‘The Jack-O-Lantern said for me to gather my friends this Halloween for a scary event,’ Chet noted. ‘Jack O said he would be bringing a surprise guest,’ Chet explained.

‘Have another glass of Merlot and some more Oscar Mayer Weiners straight out of the package,’ Neva J admonished. ‘Some of the Woods Family are joining us for the ghost story, Neva J mentioned. ‘Mr. Badger and Mr. Mole are on their way, along with the Wolfman,’ Neva J smiled. ‘Wolfy, as he likes to be called, is a Maltese in Wolf’s clothing,’ Neva J winked as she quaffed a tumbler of Merlot. ‘I went to school with Wolfy, and he was a hit with all of the girls,’ Neva J laughed. ‘Wolfy could spin a fantastic yarn that for a moment you believed,’ Neva J said. ‘He had been to exotic places and succeeded in many endeavours, although we were still in high school,’ Neva J explained. ‘Before his Tall Tale was completed, you understood that he would have to be at least three times his age to have accomplished all he had proclaimed,’ Neva J said with certainty. ‘Wolfy and I dated for a while,’ Neva J said. ‘His outward persona hid an inner child,’ Neva J noted.

‘Greetings, all I am pleased to see you could make it,’ Jack O said. ‘My good friend Wolfy will be joining us shortly as he is currently howling at the full moon,’ Jack O said with a wide grin. ‘Have you seen anything scary so far?’ Jack O asked. ‘There are reports of Frankenstein in the Woods tonight,’ Jack O said. ‘I hear you will smell the cigar smoke before you see Frank,’ Jack O noted. ‘He is only frightening until you know him,’ Jack O explained. ‘Frank N. Stein loves vintage Merlot and is coming, I think, for Neva J’s supply and a lovely evening with Wolfy and fine cigars,’ Jack O explained.

‘Greetings all, I had to stop to admire the full Moon and howl my pleasure to the sky,’ Wolfy said with a wide, toothy smile. ‘Try as I might, I can not resist a good howl,’ Wolfy laughed. ‘Isn’t Jack O a hoot with his head under his arm,’ Wolfly asked. ‘I am told I have a Maltese body, but inside I have a little wolf in me,’ Wolfy said.

‘Yo Ho to all,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘I hope Mr. Mole and Mr. Toad and I are not too late for the ghost story,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘Moley loves a good ghost story,’ Mr. Badger laughed. ‘Mr. Mole reads Edgar Allen Poe regularly,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘Moley is a bibliophile,’ Mr. Badger exclaimed. ‘He has read more ghost stories than any of us have heard,’ Mr. Badger laughed a hearty laugh. ‘Mr. Mole loves the story of the Tell-Tale Heart and The Raven,’ Mr. Badger noted. ‘Moley has several pairs of glasses staged around his house to ensure that he always has a pair for reading,’ Mr. Badger informed. ‘Mr. Mole is a Poe aficionado,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘He lives, eats, and breathes Poe,’ Mr. Badger winked knowingly. ‘Moley has won several Poe contests where the competition is to recite from memory long Poe passages from his obscure and famous treatise,’ Mr. Badger said proudly. ‘Mr. Mole has fine art paintings of Edgar Allen Poe throughout his house, Mr. Badger informed us for understanding. ‘Mr. Mole is a second cousin of Edgar Allen Poe, twice removed,’ Mr. Badger said.

It is a crisp morning. Autumnal and well-received. My favorite weather. My favorite season. Holidays are in the air. It is time to sally forth. Meet the moment and immerse yourself in the fall weather. The Cubs play today. They are two games behind in a best-of-five game competition. It is win or go home. MJ is a Cubs fan. She consumes the games with joy. I glance toward the television as I am passing by. I visited Wrigley Field twice in the ’80s and thoroughly enjoyed both visits. The young men of summer have long retired, and some have died. Yet they and I were full of life in those halcyon days. MJ said we would walk to the ballpark. She noted that on the map, it was only about an inch between our hotel and Wrigley. Three miles later, we arrived. A Hare Krishna person offered me a book for free, and I took it; however, he then wanted $30. I gave the book back to him.

I watched the first episode of a streaming show regarding the attack on Israel on October 7th two years ago. It illustrated Palestinians helping a Jewish woman to safety. At the conclusion, the actress portraying the Jewish runner and the Palestinian man clasped hands in solidarity regarding what they had just experienced, where both feared for their lives. Then the image became the actual people holding hands and their reunion of joy with Jewish and Palestinian people united by the Terror that they both endured. The Jewish woman lived in the Kibbutz that was attacked, and the Palestinian man worked in the kitchen of the Kibbutz. They were united by their shared humanity.

We are all on this journey together. Fall is here, and hope surrounds us. Time to settle under the falling leaves and ponder how we might change as the seasons do. I love Autumn and winter clothing. Sweaters and jackets, flannel shirts and leather hats. Time for walks in the Woods and reflection on matters of the heart. We are here for a short time. You can not tell of our brevity by how we build bigger and better. The statues we erect to our time here. We gather more hay into our barns for fear of winter. We see the deprived, hungry, and cold. Rather than help them, we fear we are next.

Work demands much. Often it demands too much. Some lives are subsumed in their career. Work is good, but it is not life. Life is poetry and prose. Life is autumn in the Woods. Thoughts of life and change what comes next. A sense of place. The joy in another’s eyes. Dreams of the future. Fond memories of the past.

October sings its siren song. The serenity of simplicity. The peace of place. The security of roots that go deep and limbs that reach for the sky. A gray squirrel ran across the lawn. He had neither fear nor dread. His life is grounded in his appointed rounds. The Old Man noticed the leaves were falling early in August. Not so now, as October is a week in progress. We are made for peace, not war. War is an unnatural state. When we are full and have lodging, we set our minds on making life better for those who do not enjoy such luxuries. Homelessness is a crime against humanity.

The Cubs are down by two games. Cubs fans are worried. We love the eternal struggle. I reflected on life at Southern Illinois University. I became adept at the political negotiations to survive. MJ and my recent favorite show, The Morning Show with Jennifer Aniston and Reese Witherspoon, reminded me of the snares and traps of office life. Bosses say one thing and mean another. Perception is over 90% of reality. The societal construct of what Board you are on and who you play golf with. Exhausting and illustrating the need for an advocate for working people. I filled that role for most of my career. My dear friend Elizabeth has filled the same role admirably for some time. The poor of the land are faceless to the administration. When they think of staff, they see their staff who, by most standards, have Cadillac Problems. It is the rare leader who gets to know the factory line workers.

Most of us are line workers in life. We are blessed and still looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The manifest simplicity of life continues. At times, we lose the plot. We become so busy jumping the hurdles of life that we forget the finish line. It is time to walk through the leaves and gaze at the autumn sky. We want so much, we need little. One pair of shoes will keep our feet warm. 20 pairs will feed our ego. Our Ford is great, but wouldn’t the Lincoln be better?

Patience preserves our souls. Moderation is the key. Happy experiences come from new places. Happiness comes from within. There is no magic journey that brings joy, nor is there a pill to take. Joy comes from our satisfied hearts.

The Old Man walked with his friends and reflected on the journey. He had seen preachers who loved money, fine cars, and exquisite clothes. The Preacher bragged about how much his necktie and his shoes. He had little time for the poor of the congregation. He was in his own heaven. The Preacher called his financial bounty God’s Blessings. In reality, the poor of the church did without necessities so that the Preacher could have abundance. He told the flock to do what he told them to do and give money until it hurts, and then they will have monetary blessings like he did. One problem…the poor did not have a church full of hard-working people to give them the money to provide the lifestyle of the Preacher.