We retired folks have to remind ourselves when it it the weekend. Our days have a somewhat similar pattern and scope. It is easy to fall into the plan that there is no plan. One day follows the next or as I heard a relative of mine say a few years ago, ‘Sun comes up…Sun goes down.’ The truth is that something is coming…next. The greatest chess masters look ahead on the board for several moves. They anticipate what moves that their opponent is going to make…and how they are going to respond. Life has a way of shrouding us in routine…when our shared reality is that change is inevitable.

Planning is a virtue and good planning is almost a lost art. Ron often says, Failure to plan is to plan to fail.’ All to often we live our lives as if we were playing the lottery…and that we expect to soon win big. Preparing for what is next…hinges on truth or sound facts. When we bank on conspiracy theories and lies…we have only shifting sand to build our preparation for the future.

Chapters of life tend to segue into each other. We had Boston Terriers for over 30 years. We also had a Black Labrador. Within 18 months we lost all three of our current canine residents. When you are a dog person for 30 years…it is a way of life. Loosing our beloved friends over 18 months gave us some time to get used to the idea of their absence.

A major change in life for me was retirement. I was with the University for over 32 years. I thought about it..morning…noon…and night. But…when I left…I was ready for my next chapter. Travel and writing and photography and time to enjoy the many hidden facets of our wonderful existence…are precious.

Our Pandemic has held on longer than we expected and our loss is immeasurable. Our scourge will finally pass. It has revealed a frightening amount of our fellow human beings who do not believe in science…and believe that they should persecute those who do. Pain and suffering and the devastating affect of COVID 19 is universal to our shared human experience. At the beginning of 2020…our Pandemic was ‘Next,’…and we did not believe that it could happen to us…and we thought that our political leaders would protect us by their false promises…and we assumed that being on the right religious/political side provide safety. Some assumed that they were children of the real…god…and that no harm would come to them.

Pandemic has taught us one bitter lesson…we are all equal in the rage of the Virus…and one precious lesson…that we are all children of God…leaning on the strong shoulders of each other…as we anticipate…next…

Autumn rain is gently falling on the backyard pond. The October rains aid the leaves in their departure from the trees. Campus has returned to a peaceful rhythm of study and fellowship and the joy of youth. I was reading earlier that the Ocean Point Inn in Booth Bay, Maine is in the midst of the last week of their season. Three weeks ago we were there.

We humans love routine. We measure our lives by the season that we are in. Fall brings us three months of significant holidays…and when we experience them…we take stock of ourselves and we know where we are at…and where we are going. So much the more so for the changing seasons of our lives. Sunday, October 10th will mark my anniversary of being given a tremendous opportunity. Forty-three years ago on October 10, 1978 I was hired at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale. My life and MJ’s life changed on that day. Before that we were not only not in the Ball game of Life…we were squinting through a knot hole in the fence surrounding the playing field. The suffering and deprivation of poor working people is not lost on me…as I was one. October 10 is a major holiday at the Brooks home. It is added to the 3 holidays that I mentioned earlier in this piece… Suddenly…SIUC…provided a vehicle for all of our dreams to come true!

I watched Secretary of Transportation, Pete Buttigieg, speak of his twin babies and how he has never encountered anything that was more challenging or rewarding. He went on to say that sometimes he grabs a nap at 5:00 a:m:. I remember those days when Aaron and Jonathon were little scamps. I recall wondering if I would ever work hard enough to rise to a promotion… I worried that we might never be able to afford a adequate home for our family. I know how it feels to be marginalized and rising above that to succeed…when others thought me not capable…

We find our human family still in the dark season of our Pandemic. None of us thought that we would suffer such loss. But…there is light at the end of the tunnel. This page will turn…and what will we learn. Perhaps that love and laughter…are the most important…and that the accumulation of money…has a hollow sound… Understanding and acceptance and patience and hope…are the keys that unlock the door to happiness…

The Moon smiled upon the freshly harvested field. It was unusually cold for October 31st. There was not only frost on the pumpkin…there was snow. Five inches had fallen over the little coal mining town of Eldorado. Billy Bump and his best friend, Chet, had been waiting for this night since last Halloween…1962. They had decided that instead of trick or treating…they would investigate the rumors of the haunted train station. It had been rumored that although the station had been shuttered for many years…that you could hear a train whistle and the sound of the clanging of the tracks at midnight…although the tracks were broken and weeds had grown up through them. Whenever a person would move away from Eldorado or the occasional man left his wife in the middle of the night…that they had boarded the midnight train. Bill B’s dad was one of those missing men. One morning Billy woke up and his father was missing. When he asked his mom where dad was…she responded that he had taken the train to another town…looking for work. Jefferson Brooks was a mechanic trained to work on Semi-Tractors. There was not much need for his skills in Eldorado…the town of 5 thousand people and one old sore head…so the sign proclaimed at the edge of the city limits.

Chet was missing his dad as well. An ambulance had taken him away in the middle of the night. Chet’s mother, Thelma, told him that his father was in a sanatorium for Tuberculosis and that they could not go to see him for fear of catching TB. Both young men wondered if their dads had taken the night train? Also, there was the missing Beautician, Frances, who had been one of Billy B’s best friends. Frances had gone to work at the Beauty Parlor and never returned. She had disappeared the same day that Chet’s dad had.

Coats and gloves were in order as the two Halloween explorers made their way over old timbers and gopher holes. They each had a flash light with fresh batteries and Chet had his Lost In Space Costume on. Bill B had on his cousin Gene’s Creature From The Black Lagoon Mask…but not the hands…as he thought that they would be too cumbersome as he explored the old train station. When they got to the front door…it swung open as if someone from the inside had bade them to enter. Once they had entered the door shut and on came some fluorescent lights. As Chet and Billy B. rubbed their eyes from the sudden illumination…there was Frances behind the ticket counter. Are you gentlemen here for the Midnight Train…she asked kindly. We are said Billy B. The train will be arriving in two minutes on track 666…she said with a wide smile as she gave them their tickets. As they stood on the platform at gate 666…they could hear the peel of the train whistle in the dark distance. As the train pulled up…without a light on the front…and stopped with a loud screech…out walked Chet’s dad with a conductor uniform on. ‘Where have you been, dad?, Chet asked? Carol responded that he had a temporary job on the Midnight Train…

Billy B saw a hand waving at him from the small window of the locomotive. A voice called out, ‘Ho…Billy….I have been waiting for you!, and Billy’s dad’s face filled the window.

October is a lovely month. I was in Lowes yesterday and there were both Halloween decorations and Christmas Trees. I have been walking the beautiful campus of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale for 43 years and have seldom witnessed what I did a little over an hour ago. A man asserting that he was, ‘A Child of God,’ speaking loudly to around 100 students as he characterized them as, ‘Whores’ and ‘Sodomites.’ He went on to contend that since he did what the Bible said for him to do…he was loved and protected by God…and that the angry crowd listening to him was bound for destruction. A woman who was acting as a spokesperson for the group of maligned students asked how many of the group had been church members but due to being abused and hurt by churches had ceased to attend…almost everyone raised their hands.

I was highly impressed with the students standing up to vile hate speech that the faux preacher of evil espoused. As I listened to several of the students speak to each other regarding the mean and hurtful pronouncements that they were hearing…they ruminated aloud as to why the speaker was doing what he was doing and what did he think that he was accomplishing. His invectives certainly were not a catalyst for the audience to want to partake of the abuse and pain that was obviously his lot.

‘This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.’ John 15:12. KJV

Hate defines many of what are called churches. If you are somewhat different than the congregations narrow view of God’s Love and the message of Jesus…then you are made to feel unwelcome and marginalized by the Pharisees in the pews. I have noticed throughout my 52 year experience with christianity and people seeking faith…that what we need desperately is a bigger table to sit down together and break bread and learn of each other.

Monday is here again…and I like it. Monday has the feeling of ‘Let us get something done,’ and a workmanlike solemnity after the abandon of the weekend. Monday causes you to want to put your tool belt on…and measure something. It cries out that we can get through this…with a little common sense. For me…Wally and the Beaver have gone home and I have my new 8+10 picture frame and an easel to display it on…to prove my close encounter with the television stars of my youth.

I have been on a bit of a diet and have already lost some pounds. Each time that I begin this process…I wonder why I do not simply continue it forever…as I immediately begin feeling better. Food for entertainment is a prescription for disaster. It could be said that living well is the practicing of good habits.

Sunday, Pastor Kerry spoke of our entering the season of our church’s nominating committee for officers to serve on what is called in the 1st Presbyterian Church U.S.A….the Session. The Session would be the governing body of the local church. These prospective members are selected by the nominating committee and then voted on by the entire congregation…a democratic process. ‘Where there is no counsel, the people fall; But in the multitude of counselors there is safety.’ Proverbs 11:14. NKJV

Call is a word that I have often heard in christian circles. Many self appointed members of the clergy have announced that they are called by God to be a pastor…and Voila…they are a pastor. Some will say that Jesus was an itinerate minister…but then again…he was God’s son…all the rest please be rigorously educated…and peer reviewed… The cult leader, Jim Jones, told his flock of nearly 1,000 that he was called of God…’Now drink this Kool-Aid.’

Easy has the distinct odor of deception inherent in it. When someone tells you that you do not have to climb the ladder to success…but can be helicoptered to the top rung…they have more to gain than you. Life seems to be a one foot at time game. The steps are joyful and the journey is exciting.

Rain was pouring down yesterday. Rather than engage in my customary pass time of exercise and photography and walking on the campus of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale…I decided to drive to Cape Girardeau, Missouri to to attend Comic Con at the Ramada Inn and meet Tony Dow, Wally, and Jerry Mathers, the Beaver. So I plugged into the Subaru’s GPS the address of the Ramada…and I was on my way. Rain is peaceful and soothing and soon…I had to find a restroom. Before me was Von Jakob Winery with a packed parking lot. I entered with the intention of purchasing a cigar…as I did not have time for a glass of wine. When I finished necessary business…there was such a que that I took off for the SUV and was thankful for the Winery hospitality.

The Ramada’s parking lot was full. Luckily I found, around the back of the massive hotel, several vehicles parked in a stripped area…and I joined them. After I hiked around the building to the front entrance I entered and paid my $15 for Comic Con. As I walked through the displays I noticed the absence of the Beaver and Wally. I exited the main display room and asked the nice man who had earlier showed me where to pay my entrance fee…and he said just walk straight ahead and you will run right into them. And so I did…and there they were. I visualized a large group of people such as I had just left in the display room. Indeed that was not the case but rather just a few folks with only one gentleman ahead of me in the line in front of Jerry Mathers.

The first episode of Leave It To Beaver was, October 4, 1957, 20 days later I was born. So, I watched Leave It To Beaver in prime time on television in the early 1960’s. I told Jerry Mathers that I write a blog and that I often refer to my early life as ‘Leave It To Beaver…like.’ His response was that I must have had a wonderful life.

Now I have an 8+10 glossy photo of Wally and the Beaver and the actor, Hugh Beaumont, who portrayed their father on the show. I did not have time to…’Give them the business’…but I thought about it…

I even received a Mystery Photo…in my phone…along with the 5 photos that Jerry and Tony’s assistant took…

I believe that the two men in the middle are two of, ‘My Three Sons,’ which was a popular television show of the 60’s.

It is 75 degrees with showers as I watch Cody cut our grass. My kind of weather! I am still engaging in my mental holiday game of remembering what we were doing in Maine…now 2 weeks ago. Today, 2 weeks ago, we visited the wonderful Lighthouse that was filmed in the movie Forrest Gump. Tonight, 2 weeks ago, we had our second dinner at Ports Of Italy…and I had the Lobster Ravioli…and it was delicious.

We met one of the friendly staff of the Ocean Point Inn as we were exploring Boothbay. She greeted us by enthusiastically saying, ‘Hi, Penthouse People!’ We liked this moniker very much as we were staying in lodging that was somewhat removed from the others and could only be accessed by climbing a flight of stairs to reach the front door…and then climbing another to reach everything but the two bedrooms and restroom. The living room and the kitchen and deck were on the second floor of the dwelling.

Searching for a restroom is an old man’s sport… When we arrived in Camden, Maine…Aaron and Jonathon and I sought an open bar for relief and respite. Cuzzy’s was a welcome open door. The bartender was a friendly woman with an idea that I thought was intriguing. She said that her friends had told her that if she had ever wanted to travel the country that there was no better time than now…in view of the staffing shortages in Bars and Restaurants she could work a while in a town or village and then move on…knowing that another job awaits.

Maine requires reflection and immersion and absorption. It gets in your heart…it gets in your blood. It is bright and shiny…and dark and moody.

Leaves are changing color and holding on for dear life. I saw many of them spinning on their limbs this afternoon. They are certain that they must not let go…they have been holding on since spring…and what comes next. As I sit writing this on the Writing Porch…I see that the leaves on my neighbors tree have changed their color overnight.

October is my month. I was born on October the 24th, 1957. When I was a child I had some difficulty remembering just which year in the 1950’s that I had been born. At times I thought that the year was 1956…while on other occasions it seemed like that it was 1958. These days when I fill out a digital form that requires that I submit my date of birth and the year that I was born…I have to scroll….and scroll…and scroll. Halloween was a fun time in the early 1960’s. I loved the old monsters of filmdom, Frankenstein and Dracula and the Wolf Man and the Mummy. I purchased monster model kits at the Ben Franklin Dime Store and put them together and hand painted the creatures. The Dime Store had many model car kits and a few monster kits. The Eldorado Ben Franklin Store seemed to have a bit of everything…and yet it was not a large store.

Presidential campaigns are hard fought in the closing days of October…prior to election day on the first Tuesday of November. Almost every election cycle we hear the media speak of the threat of an, ‘October Surprise,’ where one or the other of the two primary contenders reveal a last minute negative news item on their opponent. In my thoughts I think our October Surprise this year can be that we live in a divided country…but we do not have to be divided. We can make a conscientious decision that although everyone around us is giving into the temptation to be prejudiced and biased and to believe that political parties are inextricably linked to faith…we can resist and reach out our hand to our neighbor and embody…peace…

Tomorrow is the conclusion of one of my 4 favorite months. It has gone by like the blink of an eye. A week in Maine added in the supersonic travel of September. I was sitting and contemplating getting my booster shot when my cell phone rang and it was a tape recording reminding me to get my flu shot. Our world is replete with viral challenges. As I traversed Campus yesterday I saw the most interesting and brightly colored tents outside Morris Library. Now I have always loved the Library…but especially now since they hired Jonathon…and he so enjoys being a member of their team.

Stress can cover you with a blanket of depression. Where once you saw sunlight peeking through the clouds of despair…now you see clouds obliterating the sun. When you cozy up and tuck yourself in under the warm depression blanket…it brings some sore comfort. Have you ever heard someone announce that everything bad happens to them? When you keep this attitude for some time…you are in danger of becoming the attitude. The sun will come out again…but you will not see it…because you still are ensconced under your blanket of despair.

‘Midnight Mass’ is an elegant horror movie. Over its 7 episodes it has a healthy and deep discussion of faith and how we interact with it. Probably the most lovely singing that I have ever heard in a scary movie. It is the type of show that you think about after it is over. One of the characters says during an episode…just before she dies, ‘I keep forgetting that this is not my real life…and I do it…over…and over…and over…and over…again.

My good friend, Rob, had the famous Almond Joy and Mounds Candy Bar line, ‘Sometimes you feel like a nut…and sometimes you don’t,’ for his character to utter in a wonderful church play…written by our pastor, Kerry. We are surrounded by joy…and happiness…and love…and suffering… and sickness…and death. We must be light bearers in the darkness…

Billy B. and Chet and and the rest of the Lost in Space Gang were hyped about October arriving in just 3 days. A new family had just moved in down the street and one of the first things that the mom did was to put up a Fall Welcome Banner and some Halloween decorations. It appeared that they had some kids that were the age of the LISG…and Chet was going to ask them if they wanted to join the Gang…as a way of welcome to the neighborhood. Chet was the captain of the crew as he had the Robot costume from the prime time TV series, Lost in Space. The Gang was scheduled to go on a Ghost Walk on October 1st. They were going to investigate the claims of ghost sightings in a big house on Illinois Avenue in Eldorado. No one had lived in the old mansion for many years and some of the windows were broken out. Billy B.’s mom had just put out on the coffee table… their’ figurines of a classic witch called Witch Hazel, and a horseman carrying his pumpkin head under his arm…in the spirit of the famous Washington Irving short story of, Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman. There was also a Wizard called The Wiz…to make up the trinity.

It was especially chilly…or indeed cold on the October 1 Friday night. Jane’s mom had sent along little thermos’s of Hot Apple Cider for each member of the Gang…who had become a cadre of explorers. Jeff had brought a large magnifying glass that he said his father used in his business. The new kid, Daryl, had an english accent…not a pretend accent…a real accent! He was quite friendly and glad to be a part of the group. He had been born in America but had lived most of his life in Bath, England. Daryl told us that he was used to celebrating Guy Fawkes Day on November 5th…but he said that Halloween seemed, ‘Ever so much more exciting!’

There it was…the Ghost House…and the wind whistled through the broken window glass. Daryl pushed lightly on the front door and it swung open with a screech. With each of their torches on…or as we say flashlights…they could see and old couch and arm chair. Along one wall of the front room was a large fireplace with hot coals shining in the grate…and the smell of smoke in the air. Chet said that he believed that someone was either still in the house or had been there recently. Chet could be relied upon to be practical in his assessments. He was a friend of few words…and he meant them all. A wizened voice called out from the upstairs…’Who is in my house?’ Jeff dropped his father’s giant magnifying glass. Jane said that it was time for a cider break. Down the stairs floated a woman dressed as a witch and Jane offered her a cup of warm cider. She not only took it joyfully but then began to ask each of the children’s names. She went on to state that she and her husband had lived in the House many years ago and that they liked to return for a visit during October. Billy B. asked if anyone else heard soft music playing? Daryl said that he did and that everyone should look at what he was watching that was coming down the road. Before the Gang’s bugged eyes was a boy playing a ukulele while riding a bicycle…with his head bouncing around in the basket of the bike…

‘Oh that is Egbert coming back from the school,’ said the woman with the look and apparel of a witch. I asked him to ride his bicycle down to see if his father was done grading papers. He is the 3rd grade teacher. About that time the lights came on…and there was an elfin man with a pointy hat and a wide grin. ‘Daryl my boy…is this the nice group of your classmates that you were telling me about?’ ‘Yes Father…but I did not want to reveal the secret before you performed a couple of your magic tricks for them,’ said Daryl. ‘Oh my my my…I have mused up the fun again, said Daryl’s dad…my name is Job…but you can call me…The Wiz…’