Another cool day for August. Cooler weather is promised next week. Joy is ours for the taking. One of my good friends in the blogosphere told me she appreciated my blog about the Little Bully. We all have encountered the Little Bully. The little person who projected a menace much larger than they were. The person who gaslights us. The Little Bully causes us to doubt our sanity. The Little Bully wants us to question what our eyes and ears tell us is true. When our friends and neighbors listen and obey the Little Bully, we wonder what is happening. Could it be that we are losing our perception of reality? Has night become day?

Today has some cloud cover. Clouds are our friends. They protect us from the heat. They mask the Sun. The sun is wonderful, but not too much of it. Too much Sun can cause skin cancer. We lay in the Sun’s rays to obtain the perfect tan. If we are not golden brown or Orange for some, we are not doing it right. We want to do it right…thus the gaslighting.

We live in a superheated culture. Show me the money we say. I am reading a book about the super-rich. They are purchasing longer and longer yachts. They want to be the longest yacht owners. I have a model of a Cruise Ship. While the billionaires are working hard to spend their money, others are hoping to pay their electric bill. We poor folks seek the shade of a generous tree while our betters seek the climate-controlled comfort of a long, long yacht. So it goes.

Elon Musk, the richest man in the world worked to fire as many middle-class government workers as he could during his short, destructive time in government. He has a compound where many partners and children live. He donated millions of dollars to the last President during his campaign and reaped over 50 billion upon his appointment to DOGE.

Brooks Pond is like a sheet of glass. The breeze is inspirational. September is knocking at the door. There will be fall trips. Halloween costumes to wear and hot apple cider to drink. We will be happy to be in the Grand Performance. Some of us will play Ichabod Crane and flee the Headless Horseman. We will carve pumpkins and place a candle in the hollowed-out center. Others will grow out beards to Santa Claus’ length. The kids will gather around with bright eyes and anxious thoughts of the miracle that is about to come. How could one well-intentioned old man visit all the children of the world in one magical night? Jimmy Durante sang regarding Frosty the Snowman, ‘There must have been some magic in that old silk hat he found.’ Soon, the furnace will run nonstop as the winter winds whistle. The little Christmas Tree will be brilliant by the massive picture window. Mom in her kerchief and Dad in his cap will settle themselves for a long winter’s nap. They will have placed duct tape around the leaky hollow wooden door to shut out the frigid wind. They will position another handmade quilt on the kids’ beds. Christmas morning will be grand and glorious Dad tells the kids as he brings in the asthma inhaler. The refrigerator will have space to let out rooms. Christmas Dinner will be at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s. The little family worked every day and all the overtime that Dad could obtain. It was expensive to live in the land of the free and the home of the brave…

It has been said that a mind is a terrible thing to waste. I have been around and known some Bullies in my time. We all have. There are the Bullies in the open and closeted Bullies. They feed off the acquiescence of others. A Bully plays on vulnerability. A Bully is a Paper Mache Tiger. When courage is required they are busy. Courage is not part of their day job.

Hitler was a malignant narcissist. His images were of power and strength. After all, everyone had to greet each other with the straight-arm salute and his name in the greeting. Heil Hitler expressed submission to Hitler. There was a lot of submission going on.

Cult leaders are Bullies. They demand their followers do things their way or ‘the highway.’ Often, Bullies are expecting someone to stand up to them. They know they do not have the goods to back their rhetoric. Bullies are disappointed when people smarter than they are bowed in submission easily.

Public service requires courage. It was never to be a well-paid career. Some State Houses still have the remnants of Statesmen and Stateswomen. They are there to do the people’s business. Not their narrow constituency, but all the people. The ethos of having a leader to persecute and bring judgment on your perceived enemies is not new. There is no shortage of advisors who have a damaged understanding of leadership. I had a boss long ago who told me that he had been mistreated by people in power, and now that he had some power, he was going to do the same to as many people as he could. Behind the Bully Leader are hidden Bullies. They whisper in his ears to take revenge.

The Little Bully comes from dysfunction. A lot of fear is in his heart. Fear of being accepted. Fear of being liked or loved. The Little Bully says,’ I will throw sand in your eyes and show you who is the king of this sandbox.’ ‘I will call you hurtful names and look around me for the laughter and approval of the other children, Little Bully says. ‘You are short or fat or have big ears…I will tell others about your defects so they will not look at my defects,’ Little Bully boasts. ‘I am afraid at night in the dark when there is no one to admire and reassure me, ‘Little Bully whispers. ‘Dad does not have time for me, and Mom is aloof,’ Little Bully says. ‘The sound of cheers and approval for whatever I say is music to my ears,’ Little Bullys laughs. ‘Even I can not believe what I can get away with,’ Little Bully considers.

The little boy is doing laps with his dog around their house by the pond. It is a cool evening, and they both seem very happy. The little dog is especially for the evening run. The crickets are tuning their instruments. The Bullfrogs are practicing the scales before their performance in a few minutes. No Little Bullies around Brooks Pond. Creatures working together with an appreciation for each other’s differences and diversity.

Carbondale tied the 1910 record for the coldest temperature in August. Fall is coming. I can hear Christmas Bells in the distance. We are happier in the Cool Breeze. Problems do not seem so big when our brains are not overheating. Cool evenings are a good time to visit the state fair. The well-laid plans of mice and men suddenly go awry…but not in the cool days before fall. Hope reigns supreme when we don’t have to wipe away sweat. I am a knife aficionado. My lifelong friend Brent gave me a wonderful knife last evening. I have added it to my collection. I had no knife like it. We Southern Illinois boys love a good pocket knife. Uncle Jeb on the Beverly Hillbillies wittled. I have not taken wittling up, but I might. Jeb and family struck oil and moved to Beverly Hills. The pool table in the fancy eating room was used for grand hillbilly dinners of possum and gravy. The pool cues were the fancy pot passers. Ellie May loved her critters. There were raccoons, skunks, monkeys, and more. Mr. Drysdale was excited about anything the Clampetts did. He liked their 40 million dollars in his bank. Nothing has changed in 60-plus years.

Jonathon and I were reflecting on the appeal of the State Fair. As a child, the State Fair was the big city to me. There were things at the Fair that I did not see anywhere else. The Headless Man and the Gorilla Man. Brilliant neon lights that captivated my imagination. The Fair illustrated to me the vastness of the world. Everything was not contained in Eldorado. There were many different people on the planet. Humanity was a kaleidoscope of color and opinions. I could see the world from the bird’s-eye view of the top of the Ferris Wheel. Some women have beards. Clowns seemed to have an evil agenda. Their grotesque, toothy grin hid their Machiavellian purpose. Behind the biggest smiles is danger. So it goes. Today, the politician smiles so wide their faces hurt. The promise Channel #5, but give us Old Spice. We wonder if we are still alive or if we died and no one told us. I am reminded of being in a Florist Shop and realizing neither the proprietor nor any of the customers seemed to see me. I considered if this is what death feels like at first. You are still there…but you are not.

The Writing Porch is lovely. The Cool Breeze is wafting through the air. When I sit on the Writing Porch, I feel like I am in Maine. Maine elicits creative feelings in the Old Man. 2025 is our first year in the last few that we aren’t going to Maine. We have traded it for New Orleans in January. Maine has a draw on my soul. The rhythm is easy and the tempo is light. People are friendly but not familiar. The Ocean has a Siren Call. I want to be on a sailboat. The adventure of riding the wind is compelling.

In a sailboat on the ocean, we see that we are but a speck in the universe. Others are not privileged, we are here…we are privileged to be here. What a panoply of tastes, colors, and experiences we partake. I have discovered that life is the State Fair.

Fall is in the air. The Woods has many revelers. There is a reason for their joy. We walk where others have gone before. It is a restful thought. I am not the first to take photos of the sandstone. The spirits of past explorers watch. Baseball is playing the last games of the season. They hope for a birth in the prize bracket. We fans identify with them. We are in a life’s contest. Some days the going gets tough, while other days the tough get going. I saw some butterflies the other day. They posed for photos. Their beauty is unparalleled. Butterflies know more than they reveal to humans. The majesty of life propels them. The purpose of life keeps them. Fall is coming, and they are ready for the change. Change is a certainty.

Have you heard of the Butterfly Effect? ‘The Butterfly effect is a concept from chaos theory that describes how a small, seemingly insignificant change in the initial conditions of a complex deterministic system can lead to large, unpredictable differences in the system’s later state.’ ‘Does the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas?’

So it goes. We live in an interdependent world. The substance that makes up the sandstone boulders in the Woods makes me up as well…and you too. The Earth is not our resource to exploit for financial gain. We come from the Earth and to the Earth we will return.

Mylo saw the Subaru pull into the drive. He knew that Dad was home. Mylo is always happy to see me. He spends his days studying the machinations of his human family. Now and again, he barks his approval or dissent. After all, he is a Brooks. I wonder how funny we appear to aliens? Yes, I believe in the possibility of life on other planets. We are part of a much bigger picture. Space is vast. We are a warlike tribal people. Sunday Rest is good for us.

Reset is coming. Home for the Holidays. A time to reflect. A time to renew. Happiness is basic. Help someone. Love your family without judgment. Seek to enrich your spirit. We do not know what we do not know. Everything is not revealed in empirical science. Science is vital to our existence. It does not study what it can not see.

Labor Day is coming. It seems like yesterday we were anticipating Memorial Day. We are riding the State Fair Rollercoaster. We have consumed our barbecue sandwich and funnel cake. We marvelled at the headless man. We got a glimpse of the governor. The State Police smiled at us. They are the governor’s protectors. The carnival lights of the Fair are mesmerizing. It is like another world. No sorrow or sighing. They are giving out Blue Ribbons. A cold beer is good just before Labor Day. Thank you to those who labor. Our country would be nothing without you. The mystery of small towns. Most of us live in them. No Broadway or Empire State Building. No Wall Street and the Bull. No fight to reach the highest rung of the corporate ladder. It is hard to find the ladder. Horses with wide, toothy grins. Four H and Girl Scouts. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands. One nation under God, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

People are happy. The ravages of summer heat seem to be lifting. School is back. Where did the summer go? A quiet is settling. Thoughts on our last third of 2025. Sometimes it is good to see the end. The end is a forerunner of the beginning. We do our best. We can not do all things. We can not be all things. I gotta be me, Frank Sinatra sang. We choose peace. Peace surrounds us if we seek it. Peace smiles and waves at us, waiting for us to wave back. State Fair goers will be looking for Ms. Peace. When we are troubled, Ms. Peace holds our hands and listens to our troubles. Sometimes the trees are blocking the forest. We focus on the things that go wrong while all of our blessings wait in the shadows.

Faith gives peace. We are spiritual beings in earthen bodies. I have had an abiding peace over the 57 years I have been a Christian. The example of Christ’s love gives me hope each day. If Jesus loves me, he certainly loves all of his creation. I spent my managerial/administrative career attempting to pattern my treatment of others as Christ had treated me. Faith wears well. It is not an emotional high. It is a peaceful calm. No visions or dreams, but a certainty that my Guardian Angel is with me. I get angry, but I don’t stay angry for long. Christ has never stayed angry with me.

Some of us eat at private tables until we find the right table, Facebook said. We, the people of the Quiet, stand out among the noise. Introverts think deeply. We watch and wait. There is a plethora of information and some truth. Being part of the maddening crowd is not our cup of tea. We seek Earl Grey.

It seems there is an abundance of trivial issues, while the things that change lives are given short shrift. When I became a manager, at least half of my colleagues expected a John Wayne model of management efficiency. Many want the hard approach for their co-workers but the soft approach to themselves. Mercy for me and the sword of my neighbor. Leadership is not accomplished by the will of the majority. When Christ was to be crucified, Pilate asked if the crowd assembled would have him release Jesus or Barabbas a criminal. They cried, ‘Give us Barabbas.’

The Sun is setting earlier. The bullfrogs are adjusting their watches for their nightly performance. The wind is blowing a hopeful breeze. Sadness is an unnatural state. Our tools are in our new toolbox. We can shine light in the darkness. Paronia does not rule. Daily, we walk the journey. It is our walk. We have to walk that Lonsome Road Johnny Cash told us. The sounds of the heartland ring out. Stay close to the good earth. Native Americans call God the Great Spirit. I like that. We seek the Great Spirit…we wait for Godot.

The little boy is walking his dog. Both are feeling peace as the August winds blow cool and the Bullfrog Quartet checks their watches.

I was at DuQuoin this afternoon. Alongis has good tortellini. It is the beginning of the State Fair. We country folks like a good State Fair. The governor comes and lives on the fairgrounds in the Hayes Mansion. I saw Big Jim Thompson land in a helicopter on the Mansion grounds and get out with his daughter. I saw Little Jim Edgar driving a golf cart during one fair. For many years, it was MJ and my mission to get some barbecue sandwiches at the fair. The Pavilion has all manner of Blue Ribbon prizes. Some of them are showing a bit of wear by Labor Day. A lot of beer is drunk at the fair, and funnel cake is eaten. Often it is hot at the fair, but a promise of fall-like weather is in store. We midwesterners are outside people. We come from the ‘Good Earth’ as Pearl S. Buck told us. Hardscrabble and well-meaning. We do not like to hurt people. If someone says that they are too fat, we say that they are just right…

Bob Hope performed at the DuQuoin State Fair. Neva J thought that he was the funniest comedian. Red Skelton played the Fair also. Famous names of my childhood. They stayed at the St. Nicholas Hotel. Today’s DuQuoin residents know the Hotel as a great restaurant. It used to be where the Hollywood Stars stayed. Fernie worked there during the Fair and saw all of the elite. We get excited when we see famous people. After working in the coal mines, it is refreshing to rub elbows with fortunate sons.

DuQuoin streets were quiet. One unmarked police SUV with its police lights on. The governor was visiting DuQuoin today. It is the Fair Opening. He will shake hands and kiss babies. It has always been thus. Moms and Dads will tell their little kids that the governor is passing by. They will wonder who the governor is. The State Fair is pretty at night. Fairs are meant to be appreciated at night. They are a bit dingy during the day. Children and children at heart will sit in the Ferris Wheel toggling seat. The Ferris Wheel placed butterflies in my stomach. A good Carny will stop you on top. Then your seat partner will rock the toggling seat and laugh the laugh of the damned. After the Ferris Wheel, it is time for a Lemon Shake-Up.

Fairs are for forgetting, for a moment your cares and woes. Willie Nelson sang, ‘I’ll Fly Away,’ and I believed it. Especially after he followed the old hymn with, ‘Roll Me Up And Smoke Me When I Die.’ Teenage girls screamed with joy at Willie, and he smiled and waved to them. He had just turned 80. It is all about perspective.

The DuQuoin State Fair was a big deal to me growing up in Eldorado, Illinois. In those halcyon days, Neva J and I did not travel too far afield. Summers were destined for numerous trips to Pounds Hollow. Once, Neva J and I, along with cousin Brenda, went to a small Missouri town near Ft Leonard Wood so Brenda could bid her boyfriend, Danny, goodbye. We went to the theatre and saw Irma La Douce with Shirley Mclain. I have loved Shirley since that day. I had five dollars in my wallet, which was a Herculean sum of money for me to be carrying. I bought a Blackbeard Pirate model to glue and paint when I returned to Eldorado. So the Fair trip was the majestic close of summer. There were Freak shows in those days of not-so-politically correct speech. Chet and I saw the Headless Man. To this day, I believe that he really was Headless. They were Koochie Koochie Shows. These were not shows where someone tickled you to you laughed until you cried. An African American man came out of the curtain to regale us, who were young or young at heart, with what we would see on the inside if we were of age. I knew I was not in Eldorado anymore.

I saw a man turn into a gorilla still wearing the man’s fedora and smoking a cigar.

Earl could be talked into driving Neva J and me to the State Fair on Labor Day because he did not have to work. By then, the Carnys were in shutdown mode, thinking of the next gig. The Fair was supposed to close at nine. At dusk, the traveling band of rides and shows began tearing down the attractions. It was an hour ride back home full of Malones Taffy and funnel cake and dreams of the next Fair…

Today is another day when fall is in the air. The cooler temperatures and a nice breeze make life enjoyable. A heavy cloud cover shields from the sun. Problems seem solvable when the heat abates.

We seek simple explanations to life’s complex problems. Conspiracy theories comfort our fevered brow. We humans have brains that are wired to coalesce past events into future concerns. Our brains look for patterns. It is automatic. It even happens while we sleep. When someone offers a solution to a difficulty, we accept it, especially if it aligns with what we are thinking. We love conspiracy theories. One of the reasons we love conspiracy theories is that real conspiracies do happen. As we log a real conspiracy in our memory files, we compare it to the most recent theory. We accept conspiracy theories with little to no evidence when they mesh with what we have heard others say.

‘Oswald did not shoot President Kennedy alone,’ Chet said. ‘When I saw Jack Ruby come out of nowhere and gun Oswald down, I knew there was a conspiracy,’ Chet continued. ‘Nellie Connnaly said during the assassination,’ My God, they are going to kill us all! ‘Vice President Johnson ducked before the shooting started,’ Chet said. ‘Guns were fired from the Grassy Knoll,’ Chet continued.

‘Aliens crashed at Roswell, New Mexico,’ Billy B said. ‘The military said the spaceship was a weather balloon,’ Billy B continued. ‘Rancher Mac Brazel, Intelligence officer Major Jesse Marcel, and nurse Naomi Maria Selff saw alien bodies or autopsies,’ Billy B noted.

The days are getting shorter. Often, it is hard to make ends meet. Perhaps it is the fruit pickers and field workers causing the lack of money. Could it be that the homeless are dragging down our economy? Should we rewrite history and remove African American people’s significant accomplishments? Why is life so hard? Someone must be the cause.

We watch the news and suffer depression. Could it be that what we were told yesterday is not true today? Is truth not contained in one man?

There is a hint of fall in the air this evening. The long, hot summer is tired from the heat. It is time for all good summers to rest and reflect. Summer began with gusto and purpose. There were kids to entertain and Memorial Day to cook out and relax. Swimming and the pool or pond became the rhythm of the day. It was a jazz beat. Moscow Muels and no Putin involved. There was Disney World and matiness. Hamburgers from Moo and Cackle and Oscar Mayer Weiners. Thoughts of fulfillment on Treasure Island or adventure on the Island of Dr. Moreau. Edgar Allen Poe was there with his melancholy stare. Nevermore, the Raven said. It is almost time for the State Fair. There will be Monroe’s Taffy and funnel cake. The Headless Man and a sense of mystery and forboding around every corner. The trip of the year to the Fair. The adventure of the summer. The Carny said you should come on Sunday, as Labor Day is the end of the Fair, and we like to close early.

The Governor is usually the leader of the Fair Parade, but this year it is our local hero, Glenn, who was almost Governor. Glenn is a poet. He helps kids. He has a sense of place.

The nice lady at the Cigar Store told me that the donation jar was for her son. He wanted to see the Ocean. He is sick. The Old Man had tears in his eyes.

Neva J sang, ‘She will be coming around the mountain when she comes.’ I was looking for her and the mountain. Now I see her in the distance. My goodness, she is riding six white horses.

The Turkey Family was relocating yesterday at the Woods. What an impressive processional. They were headed for a different spot to call home. They were living near the entrance of the Park next to a busy road. Often, cars stopped to see why the turkey crossed the road.

Grandma is walking the dog this evening. Her walk is patient and with purpose. Grandson must be doing his homework. The Bullfrog Quartet is tuning their instruments. It is near the curtain opening.

Someone said we see through a glass darkly. With Windex, the glass gets clearer. Listen for the squeak of cleanliness. The kids are shutting their books…there is still time to catch fireflies in memory of summer gone.

It is hotter, and I am older. A poor combination. I saw my first 100 degrees today on the Subaru’s thermostat. This has been a summer to remember. One of my hiking trails had been cleared this morning, so I took advantage of it. On the narrow trail, the Old Man was truly Woods Walking. When I returned from the thicket, the man was clearing the path. I waved and he smiled. He was hot, and so was I. It is said that people in Hell want ice water.

My side table is on its way. We old folks like a little table next to our easy chair to put stuff on. It is a big part of our happiness. I have always loved little tables. In symmetry is beauty. I stopped by my favorite Antiques Store today and purchased three small items. A little Superman statue. A Troll for Jaime. A tiny green water pitcher made from Weller Pottery. The lady checking me out said I had a diverse assortment.

Journeys throughout the fall and winter. A visit with my brother and his wife, who is like my sister, and their family. Alton to see what we can see, and a train adventure to New Orleans. Plus, some medical appointments in St. Louis, which have been woven into the fabric of MJ and my life since we retired. Pastor Kerry is retiring at the end of the year. We will miss him. He has a sweet spirit and a welcoming attitude. His sense of humor is priceless.

There are Coming Attractions. This is the first day of the rest of our lives. A comfortable manner to negotiate life is to welcome change. I am not the person I was 20 years ago or 40 years ago. Life brings the downy softness of a featherbed and the hardness of a stone pillow. It is the Stone Pillow that makes our necks hurt. When we are given the Stone Pillow for Christmas, we seek to exchange it the day after. It is too firm. The store person tells us that we can not return the Stone Pillow without a reason other than Spite. We say that it does not fit our head and neck. The store clerk gets the manager, and he kindly informs us that we can not return the Stone Pillow purely for Spite and that we already said that Spite was our reason. The manager goes on to say that many of their customers like the Stone Pillow and have given them as gifts for Christmas. ‘We know,’ we reply. Seinfeld told us so.

Our Stone Pillow takes many forms. Bitterness is a Stone Pillow. Jealousy is another Stone Pillow. Worry is the king-size Stone Pillow. It seems the Department Store Manager was right. Upon investigation, I have discovered that many people prefer the Stone Pillow. With the Stone Pillow, the wrongs they have suffered are as close as their head. When they awake in the morning with a headache, they feel justified in their suffering. After all, with all they have suffered, they should sleep poorly.

‘Stone Pillows are the ticket to a happy life,’ the Leader said. ‘We have been screwed and hurt by foreign countries and the undesirables in our country,’ the Leader continued. ‘The immigrants are taking our good fruit-picking jobs,’ the Leader continued. ‘If your neck hurts from a Stone Pillow, it is not the true Americans’ fault but people from Shit Hole Countries,’ the Leader admonished.

I found that the love of Christ is demonstrated through our fellow humans. The Bible is a magical, mystical book full of promises of peace. The Bible was written by men for all people as a roadmap to peace. For 57 years, I have come to realize that God’s work is truly our own.

Once we decide that we do not want war anymore, we can effect change. Presidents and Kings are only human. We are surrounded by humans. Our problems have been caused by us, and we can change the trajectory of killing and hunger, want and deprivation. We need not look for a Heavenly Calvary but Peacemakers on Earth.

We are frozen in place, waiting for someone else to do the job. We watch suffering all around us and wonder where the Shock Troops are. Elected leaders are sent to their offices by us.

‘So I think that genocide is a war crime no matter who does it,’ Chet said. ‘When you starve a people, including women and children, to death in the name of retaliation for wrongs they have done you…you have lost the battle,’ Chet observed. ‘God sees all humanity as his children…to believe anything less than this is a prescription for disaster,’ Chet said with tears in his eyes.

How do we kill our way to Peace? How do we murder, maim, and brutalize people to cause them to want to see things our way? How is it that a nation murdered children last night to talk about Peace today?

We work to live and pay our rent. We must go to the grocery store and pay our taxes. Our medicine is getting increasingly expensive with no end in sight. Congress passes legislation that is punitive to poor people. Yet many say that this must be God’s will.

The President said this morning that we have the greatest weapons in the world…but what if there is no one left to admire them?

When is there enough killing? When will the photos of babies with bloated bellies repel us enough to do something about their condition?

We live in a rich nation and yet plead poverty when it comes to helping the poor. We have plenty of money for another missile or tank, but the hungry are on their own.

Soon we will have expelled thousands of hard-working immigrants. We old folks will have to get our farming clothes on and prepare to pick apples…