Church was wonderful this morning. There was neither the clanging of cymbals nor the beating of drums but a calm assurance of being in the right place. The quietness of faith overwhelms me. The mercy of God is from everlasting to everlasting, the Bible tells us. We live under the canopy of angels. Often, we are anxious without reason. Our story progresses. There is a peace that passes all understanding. We live in disquieting times. Clowns to the left of us and jokers to the right, the song tells us. We are stuck in the middle with Grace.

The darkest of nights yield to the brightness of the new morning. The mountain we could not climb is but a foothill. At times, we felt alone, misunderstood, and rejected. The devil was peering through the crack in the door. He smiled a wicked smile. He danced an Irish Jig. Job’s comforters told us to curse God and die. We considered their admonition. Scraping boils with broken pottery is not for the faint of heart. Then the light shone through the same crack in the door that the devil was peering through earlier. Suddenly, we knew everything was going to be all right.

Autumn winds are blowing this afternoon. Moms held their kids’ hands as they explored the Trillium Trail. I was snapping photos of the massive rock face when a young man asked me if he was at the right place for rappelling. He figured that the Old Man with the brown leather hat must know. It is Sunday in September. The year has flown by. The Holiday Season is knocking. Life is good on the Blue Orb. Crickets are singing. A change is coming.

We hunger for purpose. What is it all about, we say. Is our purpose to get a good job, buy a home, and have two cars? Is money the measurement of our success? Neva J used to tell me that money can not buy happiness. In those golden days of youth, I thought that I would like to see for myself. Mr. Rabbit ran across the lawn. He was late for an important date. He had his three-piece suit and a wonderful hat. He had a stopwatch attached to his watch fob. Mr. Rabbit was known for his expediency. He got things done. If you want a job done right and quickly, ask for Mr. Rabbit. Robby Rabbit felt good every day. He was the Energizer Bunny. That is, until a car hit him on Giant City Road. Robby was laid up in the Wildlife Hospital. He pondered his mortality. His fast friends in business seemed to forget him. ‘Hello, my friend…are you feeling better?’ Tom Turtle asked with a wide smile. ‘I brought you a couple of thousand-piece puzzles to put together during your convalescence,’ Tom Turtle said with a grin. ‘I put these puzzles together over the winter months when it is too cold to get out of the den,’ TT said. ‘It will not be long before you will be in racing form again, and we will marvel at your exploits,’ TT laughed and winked. ‘You are the fastest rabbit that I have raced,’ TT noted. ‘We will race on the same team this time and drink from the winner’s cup,’ Tom Turtle danced about as turtles do when they are happy.

Peace was the word for today. Cool breezes and autumn leaves. The Old Man got right in for a haircut. The white hair wafted downward. I told my barber that MJ says I had black hair when we got married. I told her I thought it had been brown. She said that her hair had gone prematurely white. She does not like people to call her hair gray. I remember Earl laughing and telling me that he saw a pronounced bald spot on my head as we rode the ski lift at Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I was in my 30s. In those halcyon days, I had quite a bit of gray hair.

So we wonder if our bodies have a soul. The reality is that we are a soul that has a body. I have been in the presence of several people as they died. Nothing is more evident than that once they expire, they are not in the bed before you any longer. We make decisions regarding those we meet from how their body looks. We have missed the mark. The person is on the inside of their body looking out.

So it goes as we enter fall. A settled feeling permeates the air. We are ready for what is to come. Health and happiness, as well as challenges and days in the Valley. All are on the rollercoaster ride we are on. The Grand Experiment has not been revealed. A Veil is separating us from the next stage of existence. Peace of place surrounds us. A magnificent story is unfolding and we are in the middle of the narrative. First, our children were born, and we joyfully brought the babies home. Were we the first to experience parenthood and the joys and challenges of the journey? The kids mature and finally take care of us. What a circle. Is time linear or is it a circle? Have you ever been to a new place and felt like you had been there before? Have you met a stranger and sensed in your bones that you had shared secrets? We are in the middle of a massive mystery. Those who say they have the answer avoid.

The message of Christ is to love others as I have loved you. Christ loved the poorest of the poor, the leper and the stranger. Jesus came to us clothed in flesh as we are. If you are a Christian, you ascribe to the belief that he is the Son of God. He modeled how we should treat our brothers and sisters. As he wrote in the sand, the stoners of the woman caught in adultery walked away. What did he write? Christ’s critics called him a friend of publicans and sinners and a winebibber.

A bit of a chill is welcome. It is a feeling I remembered from the past. It is nice to be out of the microwave. The leaves are falling in the Woods. Our drought has something to do with it. A little rain has fallen. The dust has settled. I am fascinated by the big rocks in the Woods. Sandstone formations. People long ago carved their names in them. Many were full of sap like a young tree. They had their lives before them, and nothing was going to get in their way. We are the visitors, the rocks are the residents. We come and go; they endure. If you listen closely, you can hear distant laughter. Young people making plans and old folks dreaming dreams. Kids ask how the rocks got there. Spirits watch.

We humans want to beat the system. Where is the key to glory and power, we say. Are creative lies good if they increase our bounty? Ms. Squirrel is gathering nuts for winter. The baby deer was hidden in the Woods’ thicket. He knew he was safe as he waited for his Mom. She told him to stay put while she checked the area for strangers. The Old Man was taking pictures as he was wont to do. The yellow flowers were pristine and plentiful. The Baby Deer could see the Old Man through the yellow flowers. He did not resemble the deer he had seen. The Old Man smelled like sweet but not woodsy. He had on a straw hat. Baby Deer thought that he would enjoy a straw hat. A straw hat would distinguish him among the other deer. A straw hat would be a bit regal. No other Baby Deer had a straw hat. Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bullrushes. The Baby Deer jumped up and, in one motion, had the Old Man’s straw hat and was off like a deer.

Soon we will light a fire in our fireplaces. Many years ago, I was substituting for an absent crew boss at Anthony Hall, which was the White House of Campus. The President of the University had a majestic fireplace in his office. One of the many specific instructions for such an important building for the Custodian to perform nightly was to ‘Lay Fire.’ At the conclusion of the shift, I asked a person on the crew what ‘Lay Fire’ meant, and she told me it was to strategically place wood and paper in the fireplace, whereby the President could simply put a match to the affair, and fire would ensue. She assured me not to worry as they did not ‘Lay Fire’ every night.

So we will lay fire and enjoy the warm glow. Long nights of reflection. Where we have been and where we are going. A pot of stew on the fire for lost friends. A candle in the window to light the path to our door. Animosities and hurts forgiven. Conspiracy theories set aside. The Star of Bethlehem will light our way. We are home from the hunt. Understanding is in the pages of our next chapter. All of us cry. We all laugh. Our eyes tell the story of our lives. We are still here. Our loved ones surround us. The fire is crackling, and the stew smells delicious. Hope is on the horizon. Peace is ours if we will grasp it. A sense of place encompasses us. Big boulders with inscriptions and baby deer with straw hats around us. There comes our lost loved one up the path. Light the Christmas Tree, we will have Christmas now…

A day like fine art. I saw some lovely yellow flowers in the Woods. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. The Woods were quiet after Labor Day. A cool breeze was blowing. Mr. Woodpecker was working. The bees were busy. They had to visit each yellow flower. They sang, ‘Bzz Bzz Bzz’. Some welcome rain fell overnight. The sound of it falling was a bit unfamiliar.

Have you ever been approached by someone trying to sell you shares in the good life? If you do what they tell you, success will happen for you. They have the secret to success for a down payment of a few hundred dollars and the rest on installments. Much of what they say is common sense. Common Sense used to be free. Often, the purveyors of possibilities become richer from their knowledge of success while you become poorer, making them richer.

Mom and Dad, as well as Grandma and Grandpa, worked a lifetime living frugally to build a life. Warren Buffett buys an egg Biscuit and a cup of coffee for his breakfast each morning when his stocks are doing well, and on those mornings when they are not, he just buys the coffee.

For most of my career, I did not buy lunch. To save temptation, I did not carry money. Most of our resources went to our family and their welfare. We did not go hungry, but we did not often spend money frivolously. I am a coffee aficionado and carried a thermos with me to work, including most of my years in management. We took vacations, but we had a budget. Life is fun on the frugal side once you get used to it.

It is nice to have money for something you need or, at times, want. The Black Hole of family finance is debt. It is advisable to not go into debt for anything other than an automobile and a house. Most other things can wait until you have the cash. When you wait, you have time to reassess the real need for the bauble or trinket that was so compelling. One of the largest contributors to a family estate is setting aside enough money to invest. You have heard it said Let your money work for you. You have a limited number of years that you will be a wage earner. Pay yourself first. Not the Preacher, not the speed boat, or the waterski.

Nothing happens if you do not stay on track like the Happy Locomotive. Do not stray to the Hills of Prosperity or the Valley of Vice. You may not have the newest car, but it is fun to know you can get it if you want to.

After I purchased my first new car in 1978, my pastor told me that I should trade every two years. This had been a common theme in former generations. When I went to trade cars, I quickly learned that my current car was not paid off and that the difference would be added to my new car payment. Not a prescription for success. MJ and I typically drive our automobiles for ten years or more. New cars are fun, but so is financial security.

Get-rich-quick schemes are rampant in our society. Go to the head of the class in one chess move. Have what mom and dad worked a lifetime for in a fraction of the time.

Evening writing is good. The sun is sinking, and our hopes are rising. The air is fresh. Breathe deeply, our soul says. You are here. You are present. You are special.

The pumpkins grow in the Patch. Many are rotund. They have a sense of place. They have purpose. The white cat looks languidly about. He is a cool cat. When he is happy, he does not show it. He does not want to be thought of as a pushover.

Mylo and Mommie are doing the ‘Whee’s’; they do them nightly and some during the day. Mommie lifts Mylo off her lap and cries, ‘Whee,’ and gingerly places him down. Mylo has a look of surprise, pleasure, and endurance in the face of ritual. Mylo is somewhat like us. He knows the rhythms of the day. He knows what is expected. It is all in the family.

Last month, the sun shone brightly at 7:00 P.M. Now the evening shadows fall. Mr. Woodpecker was busy at his job in the Woods this morning. Tappity Tap Tap rang out. Mr. Woodpecker is singular in his purpose. Nothing stops his daily routine. He dances to the sound of his own Tap Tap Tap.

Harvest time approaches. It is dry and dusty. The corn does not look good. No rain for over a month. The Bullfrogs are tuning their instruments. They are in excellent voice in the fall. Many listen to their song.

The clock is ticking a bit slower in September. The days of wine and roses. Days of meditation. Days of hope. Days of prayer for good things. A time to gather limbs for bonfires. Chili will soon be the order of the day. Homemade vegetable soup and baked bread with a thick crust. Learning for learning’s sake. Understanding the world and our place in it. Soon there will be candles in the windows. A light in the darkness for our lost loved one. He will see the light and come home.

It is Wednesday, and it seems like Tuesday. Labor Day squeezed in. We miss beauty when it is small. Big captures our attention. The sequoias are awe-inspiring. The Grand Canyon is majestic. In our society, cash is king. We labor in the trenches with the hope that one day we will be the king. In reality, we are laboring so that the king will have a new robe. Boards of corporations and Universities seek the well-to-do to take a seat among the elite. Money and fame are equated with wisdom and understanding. Those who are satisfied with what we have are considered unmotivated. Our colleagues ask us what we do with our days. They have a get-rich-quick scheme tailored for our needs. We are clothed and comfortable and often in our right mind, yet somehow diminished due to a lack of motivation to acquire more. Of late, our government has entered the business of owning parts of private businesses. This is from the political party that swears against socialism. Who shall the government give the next contract to: the independents or the business that they own part of?

The Old Man saw a little hummingbird lying on the sidewalk, dead. The Old Man studied the little creature for a moment, as it is hard to see them well when their rapid wings are moving. The little hummingbird is a marvel of God’s creation. A beautiful creature. A bird with a mission of drinking the sweet nectar of life. He gathers no coin. Little Hummingbird is happy to be in the game. Few have his long beak. His rapidity of winged flight is unparalleled. I think he must have hit the grocery store window. No doubt he was looking inside for some sugar water.

The days grow short when you reach September. So it goes with our lives. We spend years chasing the capitalist dream we inherited. Paula Abdul told us, ‘Two steps forward, one step back.’ We working folks see the summit and marshal the strength to apply our climbing pick ax and get another foothold, only to slip and swing by our safety rope. Many of us do not have a safety rope. Churches took to preaching the Prosperity Doctrine many years ago. Jesus wants you to be rich, the preacher told us. As we worked towards the goal of Christians getting a free pass to economic glory, we noticed that the Preacher was rich, but many in the congregation were poorer than ever. What about the poor Christians, we ask? Did they not get the memo? Did Christ have servants? Did he say render unto Cesar the things that are Caesar’s and put an extra coin in the hand of the tax collector to obtain a better seat at the table?

Have you looked at the butterflies? They are lovely in their handiwork. It has been said that the poorest hard-working people leave the best tips at restaurants. Those who labor know what a tip can mean to the ability of their server to pay their bills for the month. The Little Hummingbird is settled next to the homeless children outside the restaurant. He watches as they look forlorn and seek a few pennies to buy something to eat. He wishes he could bring them some sugar water…

Today is the first day of the rest of 2025. We enjoyed a grilled pork chop lunch yesterday. Aaron is a grillmaster. Jennifer Annelise and Lee joined us for the Labor Day Feast. Jenniffer is a sweet girl, and her kids are the kind of people I enjoy being around as well. Their lovely personalities are engaging. After dinner, we played cards, and the Old Man won. So it was a red-letter day. We saw a Great White Heron and a turtle. Mr. Beaver was busily building his dam. He did not get the memo regarding taking off for Labor Day. The State Fair has come and gone. Jennifer brought MJ some Taffy. We like State Fair Taffy. Today is the beginning of meteorological fall. There is a nice cloud cover and a cool breeze. It is dry in Little Egypt. The ground is cracked open, and the grass is dying. If the forecast is correct, there will not be many more mowings left. I told Cody in the spring that, although we were experiencing a deluge of rain, we would probably face a drought before the season was over.

Fall whisks by like a weaver’s shuttle. Favorite seasons always pass rapidly. I rejoiced in my friend’s brilliant smiling face this weekend. We have been friends for a long time. Now we look to maximizing our kindness and minimizing our worries and frustrations. I discovered that as a child, I could choose to trumpet my hardships or focus on the good all around me. Usually, I select the good. I wonder if one of the keys to life is a positive attitude.

There is joy in the journey. Soon Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolf Man will make their appearance. These old-time Halloween creatures captivated my attention as a child. The overcoming of Dracula by the cross inspired me. Evil can be overcome by good. I watched Ari Melber on a Labor Day special news show last evening. When a guest recommended the new movie “Weapons” for his viewing, Ari said that he walked out of the showing because it was too frightening. I took away from the movie that it involved the weaponization of children, which is scary.

The race for the Pennant and the World Series is afoot. Cubs fans never say die and never lose hope. We believe that our time will come again. A long life teaches that whatever shape we find ourselves in, things change. Paul said that he learned that whatever condition he found himself in, he had learned to be content. This is my compass. I often told my love, MJ, that we should enjoy each year as it might be our last. We are closing in on 48 years. Some days we were down, and many we were up. What appeared life-changing became foggy in the memories of the past. Time may not heal all wounds, but it is a strong bandage.

My favorite martini glass, featuring a skull on the stem, has a hairline crack. Sunday afternoon is for Dirty Martinis. So it goes with us. We have hairline cracks. It comes with the territory. Our hairline cracks make us unique. Often, we work like machines, but we are not. We absorb everything. We react internally and externally to our environment. August is making its curtain call. Tomorrow, the pools and lakes will close for swimming. Our attention will change as the leaves change.

The weather will be getting cooler. Sweaters and jackets are enjoyable. Cool weather quickens the steps. Fall knits the blanket of trust. It will warm us around the bonfires. As the flames dance, we will unite our hearts in our shared journey. We will share stories of trials and travails, victories, and love conquering all.

The Beaming Faces of my dear friends warmed my heart. Knowing what they have been through, I took comfort in God’s goodness. Fall is coming, and time to plan for the future. We see the days shorten. The evening shadows fall. We head home for suppertime. The horses are stabled. The fire in the fireplace is crackling. Mom and Dad greet us and say how good it is to see us. Our favorite food is laid upon the table. Greg is laughing and playing with the dog. Nothing will hurt us tonight…

Summer is taking its last bow. The State Fair began last weekend and is now in its closing days. The grocery store was full of people. They know it is the last holiday of summer. Worry and care will ride in the back seat of the ’57 Chevy ragtop. One more trip to Pounds Hollow. There will be plenty of Oscar Mayer Weiners — the kind kids love to eat. The lake water will be cooler. It has been cooler. If the Sun is hiding, it is chilly when you exit the lake. Could it be that we will welcome sweaters and jackets in a month or so? Fall will be here. We have experienced Autumn before, but no two are the same. Fall calls out its song. Think deeply. Consider what has been and what is to be.

Lee is bringing his fishing pole. There will be pork chops from the Webber. Can you say Loaded Potato Salad? The ultra-rich fear Armageddon. They are purchasing former nuclear missile silos to hide in. They are moving to New Zealand to enjoy the benefits of the tyranny of distance from the United States. Those who seem to back the political policies of the current administration fear their Orwellian Outcome. The blessing of some land and the solitude of a sense of place are compelling. The Great Blue Heron enjoys the Brooks Pond. He fishes daily. When something is not to his liking, he flies away. Mr. Beaver is still working on the Dam Project. Mr. Beaver knows winter is coming. He can feel it in his old bones. He has to be ready.

Jennifer and Annelise will brighten our Holiday. We will swap stories and tell tales while the Bullfrog Quartet practices the scales for their singing performance. Perhaps a game of cards after the feast will be in order. Fall will be different. We are different. Our thoughts are different. We are changing like the leaves.

We are entering the magical, mysterious season. Anything is possible. After all, we are here and we did not buy a ticket. We are prime players in a herculean performance. Our roles are vital to the success of the story. If we fail our performance on stage, the play will suffer. We are vital to the success of the greatest story ever told. The universe is watching. Angels are sitting in the front row. The Orchestra Conductor is raising his baton.

So we wait for our time to enter the stage. We will enjoy our grilled pork chops. MJ’s Baked Beans will be a special treat. Lee will catch many fish. Chef Aaron will perform a culinary masterpiece. We wait for the next door to open. Something special is about to happen. We are part of it. As we wonder what our role is and our importance to the Pagent…the angels envy us.

I love talking with solid, hard-working, humble people. People that I grew up around. No foolishness, just friendliness. Such was the little woman at the furniture store today. MJ says we need to replace our couch in the Great Room. The Great Room is what we called big living rooms in the last century. Similar to calling little mansions McMansions. I was excited about the news of replacing our couch, which we had had for fifteen years. I loved it for ten years and liked it for two, and wanted a new one for three years. So to West Frankfort or Furniture City we did go. MJ suprised me again when she said she would like to have a leather couch. I love leather. My goal as a young man was to have a leather coat. Leather coats reminded me of doctors and lawyers. They spoke to my young mind of success. My first leather coat, I wore past its prime. When I wore my favorite coat, I felt I could accomplish anything I set my mind to do. So we saw a red leather chair. Our hearts skipped a beat. What an addition to our drab Great Room. What a promise of the coming fall and 2026.

The only thing better than one red leather chair is two. Red leather has a bit of a devil-may-care vibe. As the Ghostbusters said, ‘We ain’t afraid of no ghosts.’ We are the Baby Boomers with purpose. We enter the Christmas Season already equipped with Red Chairs for Santa and Ms. Claus.

We have arrived. We are here. The months we have been anticipating are here. The ‘BER’ months are my favorite time of the year. I grew up wearing a navy cap and a cloth coat. P. N. Hirsch made plastic shoes that appeared leather. I wore them throughout my school years. Neva J used to require that I get a crew cut rather than a regular haircut, as it was cheaper.
The hardscrabble people of Eldorado did not play. You counted the cost of everything, and nothing came easy. Some Hoecakes and fruit for Christmas were welcome. Gifts that were over five dollars were out of the question.

The couch was not forgotten. A cloth fabric couch was just the ticket. Comfortable and a nice accent to the Red Leather Chairs.

So it goes, the days are bright with the promise of fall. Most things yield to practical matters. We may be like Wimpy of Popeye fame, but all of our money can’t be spent on hamburgers even if we can pay on Tuesday. But once in a while, we can get some Red Leather Chairs…