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…’

Summer has returned to Little Egypt. It is 84 degrees and feels like 88. Eighty-eight is forecast for tomorrow and Wednesday. Last week I was wearing a light sweater and now short sleeves are in order. In Maine, two weeks ago it was primarily short sleeve weather. The crispness of fall will come again…and none too soon.

I remember sitting in the Orpheum Theatre in Eldorado, Illinois and hearing the film projector that screened the movie on large reels from one to another. The projector would make the most interesting and comforting of sounds by clicking of the sound of ‘flick’ as each of the individual photos were whisked across the bright light of the projector at such a rapid rate that what I saw on the screen had then illusion of motion. There were even cases of subliminal suggestion that occurred from time to time. This would be done by, say, an advertiser splicing a photo of their product on one or two frames. Such as while you are watching a western you see a momentary shot of a beautiful Coca-Cola and suddenly you must go to the lobby and purchase a coke. Or perhaps you are watching television and a frame of film suggests to ‘Smoke Marlboro Cigarettes’ and you suddenly want to try Marlboros.

Life is a bit like a movie. The photos of our days whisk by with the flick of the master projector. First we are young…and then we are middle aged…and then we are old. We travel our road of life as we had planned until we are deterred by a subliminal suggestion. At times they are good suggestions…but often they are suggestions that have an agenda that benefits the person that is making the suggestion. We are in a selling world. Have you ever had an old friend call you and express their desire to renew old acquaintance…and to discuss a business plan that they have or a product that they are shilling for? How many of you friendships are transactional?

Wonderful people pass away and before long few people remember them or know of their life. I have witnessed on numerous occasions the death of good and hard working human beings who once they were buried and current family and friends had left this mortal soil…the next generation know little if anything about them. Now that is not the most extraordinary element of our flickering film of life…as it is somewhat customary for the daily rhythms of the life that surrounded the deceased to be altered in the extreme…once they are no longer around. Our earthly journey back to Jerusalem is not about permanence of placement…it is about the journey and who you helped along the way.

Costume parties are fun. Halloween Costume Parties are especially enjoyable. The big night had arrived…it was Halloween once again. Billy B. and his mom had spent all day Saturday decorating for the Sunday event. They had the expert assistance of Billy’s friend, Cyndy, who was a master at decorating for Halloween. The Bump house had never looked more festive. Neva Jane had decided to do something innovative and different for 1964…she was combining the children’s Costume Party with a Halloween Costume Party for her adult friends. Now, Neva Jane had many adult friends who were into a party… The adult attendees would enjoy adult beverages like Highballs and Bloody Mary’s…while the children would partake of faux adult drinks as well as Coca-Cola and Chocola and Kool-Aid. Billy B.’s mom was a Beatnik or new age thinker. She was going to have the joint Parties…together.

Jane was coming as Glenda The Good Witch from the movie, The Wizard of Oz. Buddy was attending as Barney Rubble and had talked his friend, Tommy, to come as Fred Flintstone. Jeff C. would be Linus from the Peanuts Characters. Jeff C. loved Peanuts. He once told Billy B. that he reminded him of Charlie Brown and that he thought that their class was torn from a page of the Peanuts comic strip. Billy’s dad, Willam, was going to film the festivities with his new 8 millimeter camera. Billy, of course would be the Creature From The Black Lagoon…and Chet would be the Lost In Space Robot.

Clang went the Bump doorbell and at the door was Frankenstein…or someone who looked remarkably like the original Boris Karloff character. There he was with a massive Cohiba Cigar and mumbling…’Smoke…Good.’ Coming up the driveway was Dracula. When Billy B. greeted him and invited him in for a glass of wine…he said…’I never drink…wine…’ Billy had just completed the last minute preparations for the Party by stuffing each gift bag for both the children and the adults with 10 monster comics…they were only 12 cents each. Susie brought Billy B. a faux Bloody Mary and he took great joy in imbibing the adult brew…much as he did enjoy…candy cigarettes. Billy B. had a bit of a crush on Susie…although she was several years older than he. As he drank the Bloody Mary…suddenly he had the revelation that Susie would like to dance… The Wolf Man was already twisting the night away with Billy’s mom…and he looked remarkably like Lon Chaney Jr.’s movie character of the nocturnal beast. Billy B. closed his eyes as he twisted with his paramour
Susie…when he opened them he saw that he was dancing with…The Bride of Frankenstein. Along came Frank…and he was no longer smoking a Cohiba…he was drinking a Highball and wanting to cut in…

Chet poured cold water on Billy’s fevered brow. ‘Billy…what happened,’…Chet asked? You were Twisting with Susie and all of the sudden you began to yell to Frankenstein that you meant no harm…it was just Chubby Checker’s….wonderful and compelling lyrics. Neva Jane asked Billy if he had taken a drink from the adult table…and he replied that Linus had given the drink to Susie and that she had brought it to him. Linus spun his blanket into a whip and knocked the drink out of Billy’s hand…and turned on his heel with a self satisfied smile…and walked out of the Bump home.