Earl often said the days are getting longer just after Christmas. He would peer out his kitchen window and observe the lengthening of the sunlight each evening. I could not discern a difference from one day to the next, but Earl could. So I do notice the days getting shorter. I love short days and long nights. The campfires of Halloween and the Yuletide Parties of the Holidays, with hot chocolate and hot apple cider. Ichabod Crane did not run from the Headless Horseman and get his Pumpkin Head thrown at him on an August night.

Comfort and security calls as the evening lengthens. The day is done, and tomorrow has yet to arrive. The good ones and the not-so-good are in the books for history to judge. The bullfrogs are tuning up for their performance. The little boy walks his dog. School is starting. Jill is over to watch the Cubs with MJ. Thoughts drift to the cookout on Labor Day. Southern Illinois University is tearing down its Greek Row. My first job was to clean Thalman Hall, which is part of Greek Row. In those Halcyon Days of 1978, there were still several Fraternities and Sororities on The Row. In the evenings, the sounds of parties and mirth wafted through the air. I brought the St. Louis Globe Democrat to my foreman, Jim each evening. I would hear the front door open and soon see that the paper was gone and a University Van driving off. I was hired in October, with the chilly evenings, the smell of burning leaves, and plans for the future.

The rest of the year looks busy, MJ said. That is the way of the shorter days. Once September arrives, we know we have to stop fudging around and get done what a good woman and a good man should be doing. We thought we had a year, and here it is almost two-thirds over without warning. We have laid too much upon the table as our legislators do. We said another day as we danced and played our fiddles. What harm can come? We still have four months. The Bullfrog Quartet Leader passes around throat lozenges for the upcoming performance. The little dog peed quick. He and the little boy have returned to the cool confines of the house.

New challenges await, and we have not put the old challenges to bed. Home is where we are safe. Home lives in our bones. Problems come and then they go, but home endures. There will be many little things, but none captures our heart like home.

I have seen many raccoons at a distance, but today I saw one up close. He was enjoying his morning without a care in the world. Mr. Raccoon came close and said, ‘Nice weather we are having, if it wasn’t so hot.’What are you up to, kind sir,’ Mr. Racoon asked. ‘I have noticed you sitting on the picnic table or walking through our Woods snapping photos of all you see,’ Mr. Raccoon said. ‘I, sir, am a photographer myself and have been so most of my life,’ Mr. Raccoon said. ‘I have many children and thus many photo albums,’ Mr. Raccoon mentioned. ‘Tomorrow we are having a picnic by the lake and would like you to join us,’ Mr. Raccoon offered. ‘There will be the Deer and Wild Turkeys with many babies in tow,’ Mr. Raccoon said with a toothy grin. ‘The Snake family will be there with their five-alarm chili,’ Mr. Raccoon laughed. ‘It is the kind that would put Poppy in the hospital if he ate some,’ Mr. Raccoon giggled.

‘So you are a Seinfeld fan, I see,’ the Old Man said with a wink. ‘I never miss a rerun myself,’ the Old Man said with a dance. ‘Many times Seinfeld has been a comfort to me in difficult times,’ said Old Man. ‘I saw an Optometrist Office in the thicket,’ the Old Man noted. Who runs it,’ the Old Man asked.

‘That would be me, my good man, are you in need of new spectacles?’ Mr. Mold asked as he squinted. ‘My family has been in the optometry business for five generations and has fitted many humans with new glasses,’ Mr. Mole noted with aplomb. ‘We have an excellent guarantee if you can not see, come see me,’ Mr. Mole laughed so hard his sides hurt. ‘We fitted Mr. Magoo for a new set of Peepers every year…he is a famous cartoon star, you know, I am sure,’ Mr. Mole advised. ‘You will find that we animals get along with each other and wonder why you humans can not seem to dwell together…is it BO?’ Mr. Mole asked with a sly grin. ‘We have found that we accomplish much when we work together and forget our petty grievances,’ Mr. Mole said.

‘You will enjoy the picnic tomorrow, the Gnome said with a smile. ‘I am preparing my Hungarian Goulash,’ Gnome offered. ‘I brought the recipe with me from the Old Country,’ Gnome said. ‘My family and I love this Country, it has been so good to us,’ Gnome noted. ‘We were persecuted in our land and did not have the freedoms that the United States affords…we hope this is not going to change…we will be sad if it does,’ Gnome said with a tear in his eyes.

‘I neglected to mention that all of the members of Congress will be at the Picnic tomorrow, thanks to the Elf Magic,’ Mr. Racoon said with a grin. ‘We will eat in a magical spot in the Woods where the politicans will be loving and forgiving and will listen to each other as brothers and sisters,’ Mr. Raccoon said. ‘The Elves have been planning the Picnic all year, and it should be fun,’ Mr. Raccoon said as he danced on one foot and then the other.

‘It will be like nothing you have ever seen,’ Harry Elf said with a whistle…

Summer is not over. We had a tease last weekend; now reality bites. The Woods were an absence of people. The Old Man continued to snap photos. Thoughts swirl on a summer day. A butterfly lit on the Old Man’s hand and stayed. They conversed of things great and small. The meaning of life and their place in it. The mystery of life. The majesty of a sense of place and purpose. Mr. Butterfly was enjoying his day. He knew what to do and where to go. He studied the Old Man. What a big creature, he thought. He is big yet friendly, Mr. Butterfly considered. We can live in peace.

So it goes as we travel the rocky road, poor health, and the need for a Healer. One day we are robust and the next we need a physician. We walk through one door and are met with brilliant light, and the next day, a door leads us to darkness and a feeling of abandonment. Our human journey is full of these doors. The television show Let’s Make a Deal with Monty Hall was a game show about doors. Behind one door was a wonderful prize, while behind another door might be a donkey. It is a challenging way to plan a life. Yet here we are. The Healer makes the difference.

Jim Croce sang to us that there were planes to catch and bills to pay. We are caught unawares until the still, small voice of the Great Physician speaks a word of comfort in our ear. The Bible tells us that hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life. What a hope in the shadow of the valley of despair.

Neva J often told me that she would not accept Alzheimer’s Disease. She fought back. Yet the reality of her dementia or Alzheimer’s Disease was evident for all to see. Life is not for the faint of heart. We struggle against the night. The greatest accomplishments are performed by those who have challenges. Helen Keller did not let being blind, deaf, and unable to speak stop her. The Healer pierces the darkness.

We have today. Not tomorrow. Today is the day that the
Great Physician visits us. One touch of his hand and we are made whole. So we people of faith know someone created us. There is more than what we see with our eyes and hear with our ears. There is something beyond the Veil.

We play an important role in the production of Life On Earth.’ None of our theatrical roles is minor. Mr. Butterfly was playing his role this morning, and the Old Man appreciated the performance. My dear friend John was dying of cirrhosis of the liver. A little plant a well-wisher sent him spoke to his heart. John said that he observed that the little plant fought to live and sought the sun’s rays to replenish itself in its diminished condition. He suddenly understood that he must not give in to the medical diagnosis of terminal illness and fight to live. The Healer visited him and John lived several more years.

Watch in the evening shadows and the early morning first rays of dawn as the Great Physican visits your hospital room…

‘I have never ridden a train before,’ Jane said with glee. ‘This is exciting,’ Jane continued. ‘I can’t wait to get to New Orleans,’ Jane said, dancing up and down. ‘We are going to hear some great jazz,’ Jane mused. ‘Bourbon Street will be fun,’ Jane winked. ‘I am told that New Orleans is like no other city,’ Jane offered for consideration.

‘Is this the train to New Orleans? I am booked for Alaska?’ the Travelling Man remarked. ‘We visited Alaska twice, but both times on cruises, we wanted to see it from a land tour,’ Travelling Man continued. ‘On the first visit Fernie got sick and we had to leave the cruise, so we took another to make up for it,’ Travelling Man remarked. ‘How is it that I am going to Alaska and you are going to New Orleans?’ Travelling Man asked Jane.

The Preacher of the Woods began to speak. ‘Welcome Seekers,’ the Preacher said. ‘We are looking for home,’ the Preacher continued. ‘Some of you came from the cities and others from the plains, while some came from the Sahara,’ the Preacher said. ‘Soon we will leave for our destinations and the surprise that awaits us,’ the Preacher said. ‘What a trip it has been with the stones and boulders in our path, we grew weary, but we did not stop in our quest,’ the Preacher said. ‘Contrary to popular belief, we will be getting off at different stops where our lives have taken us, so hold on tight and enjoy the ride,’ the Preacher laughed and danced on one foot and then the other.

‘Mama said there would be days like this,’ Chet said. ‘We are going to Edinburgh, Scotland, while others on the Train say they are bound for New Orleans and Alaska,’ Chet remarked. ‘Could it be that we have crossed over and do not realise it?’ Chet asked. ‘This Train should not be able to reach all of the destinations the riders are expecting,’ Chet postulated. ‘Yesterday I was thinking of fall and Labour Day and then Halloween,’ Chet remarked. ‘Now I am on a Train to Edinburgh and do not understand the mechanics of it,’ Chet said. ‘I noticed in the Florist that no one seemed to hear me or see me, although I could hear and see the customers and the Florist very well,’ Chet said. ‘I ended up leaving my money for some flowers I purchased on the counter and exiting with a funny feeling,’ Chet observed. ‘I do not remember anything after I heard the Leader say…Take Shelter…

A quiet falls. Settled and safe. The birds sing their evening tunes. Night workers prepare to report. It is reset time. Travel on the Big Rock can be dizzying. Flying through space while twirling like a top is not for the fainthearted. We are constantly getting on the ride and getting off. The bullfrogs are practicing their symphony.

Summer is here in all of its glory. There is more of it left, we think, as we pull the string out of the enclosed box. The day is drawing near when the string will run out. Swimming days at Pounds Hollow and movies at the Orpheum Theatre, and…what…school starts in a week. We were just setting off fireworks and listening to the pop of firecrackers and…what…school supplies. The promise was long, and the event was short.

The clock is ticking. It seemed we were masters; we were simple servants. We were visitors in our lives. We watched the reels turn, the film making its distinct flicking sound. The people on the movie screen were having a good time. Laughter filled the soundtrack of their lives. They had little, but appreciated it greatly. They did not take themselves too seriously. ‘Wars and rumors of wars, but the end is not yet.’ The preacher said I have the answer, I am the answer. Scene change without warning.

The Old Man walked through the Woods. He thought of joys and sorrows. Men acting their prescribed role of leader and strutted and fretted across the Stage. They had preened and pirouetted. Their inner insecurities are revealed through their rhetoric. The demolished barns were to be replaced with bigger barns. They had the answers to life’s persistent questions. The Sirens sang their song, and the people listened. ‘I will give you all that you see if you will fall down and worship me.’

The Bullfrog Quartet is tuning their bass. The little boy walks his dog. The clock is ticking. All is well if it is well with your soul.

Talking is easy; communication is hard. The Circus Ringleader announced a new act in the center ring. A Statesman will speak. The audience looked perplexed. One called out, ‘What is a Statesman?’ The Statesman spoke for a few minutes. He spoke of compromise and harmony of purpose. The Statesman spoke of One Nation Under God. The Statesman spoke of freedom from sea to shining sea. The people became restless. One hit the Statesman with a rotten tomato. ‘Send in the clowns, there have to be clowns,’ a woman called out.

Evening is falling quickly now. The brilliant vestiges of blue sky are becoming dim. The little boy and his dog are safely in Grandma’s house. Milk and cookies are delicious on a summer evening. Especially if the milk is served in big porcelain cups.

Today is another soothing day. It could be a Pleasant Valley Monday. Well, after all, it is the day after Sunday. While we may be embarking on a week of adventure and fun, others may be in the ‘slough of Despond.’ The comforting thought is that God is with us in both the good times and the not-so-good times.

For 57 years, I have read about Christ healing the sick during His time on earth. I witnessed healing twice. There was a quiet surety of God’s presence. As the woman said, ‘If I can but touch the hem of his garment.’

Now, when I say I witnessed healings twice, I am speaking of a profound change in someone who was desperately ill returning to health. I actually believe Jesus heals us daily in his quiet walk with us. The television preacher who puts the spotlight on the many healings of their tent revival service, with the focus being on them and their supposed God given gift, is a sham. It is a study in narcissism and making money from people’s suffering.

When you touch the hem of Christ’s garment, you know it, and he knows it. Often, God uses physicians to assist him in his healing ministry on earth. We are healed and jump off the examination table to go forth and conquer. We know something is different as our Guardian Angel smiles in the background. In the corner of our eye, we see the tassels at the bottom of a long flowing garment walking out of the doctor’s office door…

‘Did you know the Carnivale has come to town?’ Chet asked. ‘I look for it year-round,’ Chet continued. ‘It represents our struggle with good and evil in entertainment form,’ Chet laughed. ‘Last August I visited the headless man,’ Chet noted. ‘After his performance, I snuck backstage and there he was smoking a cigar and sitting in a plush Victorian chair,’ Chet said. ‘When the Headless man saw me, he motioned for me to come into his living room and sit down for a chat,’ Chet observed. ‘He knew my name and the names of my mom and dad,’ Chet whispered. ‘We spoke of the War in Vietnam and the assassination of President Kennedy,’ Chet continued. ‘The Headless Man said that her had been in Vietnam and seen combat,’ Chet informed. ‘He mentioned his wife and three kids in New York and how glad he would be to see them in the winter when the Carnivale shut down till the spring,’ Chet said. ‘The Headless Man asked me if I had thought of joining the Carnivale,’ Chet said. ‘He noted that it is the perfect place for a rebel against artificial order. Chet winked. ‘Carnivale accepts the unacceptable,’ Chet noted. ‘Those who stick out in the restrictive milieu of conventional people fit right in with Carnivale,’ Chet grinned. ‘As I was talking with the Headless Man, three Gnomes passed by and bid us good day,’ Chet said. ‘They were carrying bundles of toys for Christmas on their backs,’ Chet laughed. ‘I asked them where they were going and they replied that Santa was already deep in his Christmas preparations and needed their services.’ Chet danced on one foot and then the other.

‘Well, of course, the Headless Man was not truly headless…right,’ Jane asked. ‘It was a show of mirrors, Jane said. ‘Did you see how he portrayed himself as headless?’ Jane asked.

‘The Headless Man held his head under his arm and during our conversation, he lit a cigar to place in his bodyless head’s mouth while remaining seated in his favorite chair,’ Chet smiled knowingly. ‘He complimented me on my lack of shock or surprise,’ Chet said. ‘The Headless Man observed that being headless was an advantage in Vietnam as he could be in two places at once,’ Chet smiled. ‘The Headless Man said he had observed that he made sounder decisions than political leaders who have their head attached to their bodies,’ Chet laughed.

‘Come One, Come All to see what the Carnivale Master has created,’ the Carnivale Barker announced with aplomb. ‘In just a moment, we will reveal a leader for our times that we have created in our Carnivale Trailer, we call the Laboratory,’ Carnivale Barker said. ‘Some call him the forerunner of Christ while others call him the Antichrist,’ Carnivale said softly. ‘He loves those who love him until…he does not,’ Carnivale Barker warned. ‘The Faux Leader refuses labels as he is guided by a Strange Spirit,’ CB said. ‘He promises everything to his acolytes and subsequently tells them he does not want their love or support and refers to them as stupid,’ CB noted. ‘People hate him until they see him, and his gaze mesmerizes them,’ CB observed. ‘He is like Medusa, where if you look upon him, you will be turned into stone,’ Carnivale Barker warned. ‘Remember my warning, dear friends, as I must leave you now and not look upon his visage,’ CB whispered.

‘Welcome, my friends…I am here for you and your needs,’ Faux Leader said with a jaunty dance and a wicked smile. ‘I will provide the Necessary Things for you,’ FL said with a smirk. ‘Do not fear the Antichrist…I kind of like the title,’ Faux Leader assured with a wink.

The cool air is refreshing. Thoughts of falling leaves are in my vision. The simple things in life are fine art. No conflict, just peace. Hope for tomorrow is in reality hope for today. As is said, today is the tomorrow that we worried about yesterday. God is in control. I often said this is a young Christian. I especially uttered those words when counseling someone who was having difficulties. As I said the words, I wondered if I really believed my own rhetoric. Now I am old and know the words are true. Experience is a wise teacher. When we are young, we know the words to the hymn, and as an old man, I know the author.

Saturdays were for doing something different than working during my youth. Living in Elkville, a road trip to the big city of Carbondale was an adventure. The Mall was Main Street under one roof. The Mall had many restaurants and a theatre. There were so many shops that you did not know which one to enter. Upscale items are out of my price range, but not my dreams. During the Christmas Season, on Saturday, the Mall was full of people, as well as all the parking lots surrounding it. Mongomery Ward had our first home computer. It was $2,000, good for word processing and playing The Oregon Trail. I knew times were changing.

The mystery of kids changing before your eyes is seen on a pleasant Saturday. It is like watching a movie on fast forward. You have to jump into the malestrom or be left behind.

Saturday is a good day to see the new Naked Gun movie. MJ and I laughed until tears coursed down our cheeks when the original Naked Gun with Leslie Nielsen came out. It premiered on December 2, 1988. I was 31 and was happy to be a member of the 30s Club. The Thirty Somethings was a television show. I had been the assistant superintendent of my department for a couple of years. Home computers were not around yet.

Regular Order is a good thing. We have become a nation of daily surprises. Tinkering with our government for fun and ‘manosphere’ praise is not healthy. Families are raised on the regular order of a settled life. Not the chaos of constant change for change’s sake.

Saturdays in Eldorado were fun. No school. Saturday matinee at the Orpheum Theatre. Frankenstein on the big screen. Popcorn and a Coke and dreams of far-off lands. Many folks in my halcyon days enjoyed Honky Tonkin on Saturday night. Then came Sunday, and no stores were open nor alcohol sold. People did not cut their grass on Sunday in honor of the Lord’s Day. But Saturday belonged to night dreams…

This is a beautiful Friday. The temperature has a hint of fall in it. A father and his little girl were getting ready to explore a trail in the Woods. The Old Man remembered all that he had not thought of, why he likes cool weather so much. The air is sweeter. No sweat. No cares or worries. An abundance of peace. I wrote of a magician pulling a rabbit out of his top hat. Today, I pulled out a happy laughing rabbit. I smiled when I saw him despite myself. It is not every day you pull a jovial rabbit. We need a laughing rabbit just now. One of my dear friends is ill in St. Louis. She and her family are wonderful people. We were colleagues for years, and she is inspirational.

I have another dear friend who is a bit lost and needs to find his way. The simple privilege of being in his presence lifts my day. He is kind and considerate. He is brilliant both in mind and personality.

We seek understanding among the ruins of society. We are a bit like Job scraping ourselves with shards of pottery. We look for the answer in others when we contain the solutions. We want to look behind the Veil. We want to see ourselves in a good light rather than looking through a mirror darkly. We live in a microcosm of God’s plan. Our Earth seems vast to us. However, what does it look like from his point of view? When we see each other as God sees us, we have an affinity for all. Life is bigger than the money we make or what we pay in taxes. We are participants in a Grand Experiment. We do not have a ticket to this ride, nor a ticket to get off.

We focus on minutiae. Such is our physical world. Our spirits desire to soar with the eagles. The doctor did not tell us when he extracted us from our mother’s belly and slapped us on our butt that this is a quick and exciting ride. We thought we would always be nursing at Mama’s breast. Soon, it was school days and all types of kids. Fat kids and skinny kids and kids who ride on bikes…short kids and even kids with chicken pox love hot dogs…Oscar Mayer Hot Dogs…the Dogs kids love to eat,’ the television commercial said. What a rush life is! Then there is love and marriage and pushing a baby carriage…Frank Sinatra sang. Seeing the Cubs play live at Wrigley Stadium and watching Ryne Sandberg as a young player… Dinner at an upscale restaurant on the Gold Coast in Chicago, and having just enough money to pay the bill. Finger Bowls. The jauntly dressed footman pouring the coffee from two feet above the cup at the Omni Ambassador East. Telling the Hare Krishna devotee that I did not want his thick free book when he subsequently asked for a donation. Being asked by the Chicago Cubs Fans in the bleachers if we were Cubs Fans, and when we said we were, their joyful acceptance of us. Telling the surly cab driver who lectured me on what cab I was supposed to take, and his withdrawal from the confrontation. As my friend Lee Phemister told me the time he was driving in Chicago, a Police Officer directing traffic motioned for him to proceed and called him ‘Country’, and Lee wondered how he knew.

Europe was a mystery. We explored it by the skin of our teeth. Our dear friends Margo and Jeff helped us. I ordered a pastry in Paris. The woman waiting on me said Voila. I responded Voila. Then MJ came in, and it was no longer Voila. The French woman scowled.

‘I have been watching you,’ God said. ‘I like your style,’ God continued. ‘You have moxy,’ God grinned. ‘I want you to teach a class for me on the joy of living,’ God laughed.