Work To Be Done
The leaves are falling fast. Each day I see changes. I met an old man who said that the area we were in had the best leaf colors. This old man agreed…
Nature is slowing down and preparing for a winter’s sleep. Snow will cover the fallen leaves, a white blanket. They will be safe and secure as they nestle into their cozy bed. Quiet will reign in the Woods. The trees will talk to each other. If you listen closely you can hear them whispering.
The Lodge will close. It’s time for a holiday. After Christmas Bells and good wishes, it will be cold. Trees lift their arms toward Heaven. Gray clouds will hover. Bears will sleep the sleep of the just.
We muck about. Each day is a new world for us. Lessons do not stick. We seek life lessons here, seek them there, and open our hearts to those who would use us, and dispose of us as rubbish. Our childhood lessons are forgotten for conmen and swindlers tripe. Perhaps they have the answers to the Secret. They look good on TV. They are confident. They are angry all of the time. We will hitch our wagon to theirs. They will pull us to safety.
The leaves rest secure under a blanket of snow. The trees whisper. The bear snores. All is as it should be.
No clues we cry. Someone should have provided a roadmap. Our GPS ceases to operate. Spring is coming. Better is coming. Hope is coming. There is much to be done. We have just begun. The mission is not a sprint…it is a marathon…
Haunted House
‘I think this house is haunted,’ Billy B said. ‘I hear strange noises at night I see shadows on the walls,’ Bill B continued. ‘The broom closet I am sleeping in creeks and groans like footsteps,’ Billy B observed.
‘Have you ever awoken to find a shadow standing at the foot of your bed?’ Chet asked. ‘You want to move but are frozen,’ Chet elaborated. ‘Some call it a waking dream,’ he said.
‘What about when you wake up and see a shadow walking around your bedroom.’ Jane asked? ‘I peed myself a little,’ Jane laughed. ‘The shadow was of an old woman but no old woman was in the room,’ Jane remarked with a shiver.
‘Abigail had an old woman follow her everywhere she went,’ Neva J said. ‘At times she did not see her…then the old woman was watching her from outside the classroom or sitting at a picnic table with her fixed gaze upon her,’ Neva J explained. ‘When Abigail ran from the old woman she would pursue slowly,’ Neva J said with fright.
‘Once I awakened and found aliens surrounding my bed,’ Daryl said matter of factly. ‘Their little mouths were grinning,’ Daryl continued. ‘I asked them what they wanted…they said they wanted to be my friends,’ Daryl continued. ‘The little people asked me to follow them outside where a full moon illuminated the night,’ he continued. ‘One of them perhaps the leader beckoned for me to follow him into their flying saucer,’ Daryl explained. ‘When I walked up the long staircase of the saucer and entered the door…I was in class with all of you,’ Daryl laughed.
‘We were driving on a dark deserted road when we saw a pretty little girl bouncing a beachball in the headlights,’ Chet said with a creeped-out air. ‘When she saw us she grinned sweetly and disappeared in the inky blackness,’ Chet continued. ‘A car went around us doing over 100 miles per hour…we heard the crash,’ Chet said with wide eyes. ‘The little girl appeared in our headlights again…she was bouncing a human head…
Better
We went to Maine earlier this month, but the leaves are lovely here. The wind conducts a dance of leaves, signaling the end of one season and the beginning of another. We sip hot chocolate, wondering what is next. Pumpkins adorn the landscape. It is a time of slowing. A time of reflecting. A time for reassessment and renewal. Nature changes…we change…better is coming. We knew Better was coming when we were children. Each school year we understood that next year would be Better. University informed us on our first day that they were in the business of making us Better. Then there was marriage…we were Better. Then kids joined us and the joy of life made us Better. Finally, career and challenges physically and mentally sharpened our skills and honed our abilities. We were working for something and towards the great day of…Better.
Retirement brought delight. Was this the elusive Better that we had sought?
The golden years bring aches and pains. We look at the fallen leaves and consider them. We have searched for Better, for the Secret.
Friends Make A Difference
Yesterday was my 67th birthday. I was overwhelmed by my well-wishers, many of whom were people I had not seen in many years. I am honored and humbled. Life is a series of events. Some are joyous while others are difficult. Life is a seamless display of snapshots.
Home is where your sense of place is. Births and deaths. Love and loss create indelible images. Friends connect us. They expand our thinking. They broaden our horizons.
Hope within brings reliable peace. Life is a gradual climb to better things. America is a land of promise. The Dream of our nation is diversity. An oasis in the desert. Hope for the hopeless help for the helpless.
Soon, we will seek direction for our nation. Did God create humans and then decide he liked only a few of them? Are the rich the successful Christians? Are they the ones who are doing it right? Is the loudest voice…the voice of wisdom?
A young woman checked me out at Aldis today. She was in the middle of a conversation I assumed she meant for me. When I inquired what she was speaking about she told me a mentally ill man was outside the door and it was disconcerting. The mentally ill need friends like the rest of us…
We spend our days waiting for the next good thing to happen to us. We search for those like us. My friends are from all strata of society…including conservative and liberal, black and white, Asian…challenged folks who I called my kids when I was Superintendent of Building Services. All wished me Happy Birthday, yesterday…
I have Gay friends who I cherish. Many of my friends will vote for the Presidential candidate differently than me. November 6th they will still be my friends.
As much as is within us…’Be at peace with all men.’
The Comfort Of Frankenstein & The Creature From The Black Lagoon
Old #67 is chugging down the track. I am reflecting on my love for vintage Monster Movies. It began in my youth seeing them at the Orpheum Theatre in Eldorado. I loved watching scary flicks on Friday nights with my favorite cousin Brenda. Her brother Billy aided my affection for Universal Monsters with his Monster Magazines. Later he acquired Monster Masks from Universal Studios that looked remarkably like the real movie characters. He and I made an 8-millimeter film of me with the Creature From The Black Lagoon mask and Hands-on. It was worthy of an Oscar. In the dark safe seclusion of the Orpheum, all was well. Dracula Frankenstein or the Creature stayed on the screen while I enjoyed the vicarious thrill of their performance. At times they were safer than life.
‘I can not see where I am going,’ Billy B said. ‘I am looking through the nostrils rather than the eyes of the Creature Mask,’ Billy B continued. ‘Oh oh…I almost tripped on a big rock,’ he proclaimed.
‘Keep your eyes on the camera,’ Chet instructed. ‘You are looking authentic,’ Chet noted. ‘I am scared…a little,’ he said with a grin.
‘Who is that walking up the bank of the pond,’ Jane asked? ‘He is a big guy smoking a cigar,’ Jane noted with some trepidation. ‘He has a little girl by her hand and she is laughing,’ Jane said.
‘Frankenstein…do not throw her in after she throws in her flowers…throwing in little girls bad…cigars good,’ Neva J said.
‘Here Frank…you can hold the camera and I will take the little girl’s hand…later we will have some lochs and bagels,’ Creature said.
‘Jane is going to snap our picture,’ Chet said with a smile.
‘I learned a lesson…do not throw little girls in water,’ Frank said.
‘No…no Frank…do not throw Chet in the water…throwing people in water bad…cigars good,’ Jand called out.
Birthday Eve
Sixty-seven is biting at my heels. That is three years from seventy. Time flies when you are having fun. Born a week before Halloween. Autumn’s child. The trees are resplendent with color. Hope beats heartily. Time is seamless. Happiness is not contingent on others.
It is possible to be so enamored with life that the years seem like months and the months are but days.
Some seem to seek the bad, domineering know-it-all person. I can not relate to this, but I have observed its proclivity. I know that most people are smarter than I and am humbled to be in their presence. Treating others like I want to be treated is my axiom. Peace is my subject.
In the United States, we love money. We admire the strong man especially if he is rich. Money and bombast are equated with wisdom. ‘Wisdom is known of her children.’
Simple is my sense of place. We are here but a moment. This is lost on us. The Christian life has been a solace to me. Christ did not focus on money. He focuses on the poor among us. The poor are my people. I have been one of them. Their feelings of marginalization are keen. I remember the feeling.
We speak of mansions and streets paved with gold. Many hope to be kings or queens in heaven. They know the Big Guy wants that model. The homeless girl sits behind the Broadway Theatre. Her clothes are ragged, she is hungry, and she hopes for a few coins from the audience as they pass by after the show.
Adoration is fleeting. The sycophant moves on. There is another Con next door. Time is scurrying in our lives. We are pro-life until the poor child needs food. We move on to the next battle.
Praise is on gossamer wings. We seek it here and we seek it there. It is elusive. The old man holds out his soup bowl. He has not eaten in a few days. When the rich see him they cross over to the other side of the street… They are embarrassed to be seen with him.
It is easy to lose the plot. The quiet is not seen or heard. The noise drowns them out. The shut-in is lonely for the human contact they relished when they were young and healthy.
So, by grace, I have the luxury of celebrating my birthday. Many do not…
Introvert Is A Good Word
The leaves are changing rapidly in Little Egypt. My Birthday Week is usually the best time to go leaf-peeping. Autumn is especially nice for Woods Walking.
I am a card-carrying introvert, and I am proud of it. For many years, I have heard that introverts should leave their comfort zones and become extroverts. This is a bit like telling zebras to whitewash their stripes. We introvert love people. We love them better at a distance.
Introverts are watchers. Introverts are deep thinkers. We enjoy our friends who seek the spotlight. We prefer the shadows.
We walk on to the stage of life and often leave our comfort zones. We seek to help others. Introverts speak publicly and can not be distinguished from extroverts without close examination. Many performers and public people are introverts. In reality, we are waiting for Godot.
People’s pain troubles us. We seek solutions for suffering. Still, waters run deep is the term others use to describe us. Deep we are and unplumed by others who are busy focusing on extroverts.
A lie travels around the world while the truth is still pulling its pants up. Public utterances disguise reality. Rhetoric is considered truth when often said.
It is good to be the king we introverts are advised. Follow me and leave your comfort zone…I will make you rich we are admonished. The quiet man and woman go unnoticed.
The extrovert Christian proclaims God blessed them with their abundance. The introverted Christian labors in the shadows and although not rich feel protection from God.
Introverts marshall their strength for the extrovert arena. It does not come naturally to them. When they speak people listen. They think about what they are saying.
My Director of many years and I commiserated regarding are being both introverts and yet having extrovert positions. The secret to my being in the extrovert arena was my love of people. My management philosophy was to put people first and excellence of work product would follow. My philosophy for my department’s relationship with all departments at Southern Illinois University was we would make our enemies our friends and our friends love us.
G.K. Chesterton said, ‘We are all in the same boat on a stormy sea and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.’
In Praise Of Women
I have an observation that I have developed over many years: Anything that men can do, women can often do better. I watched Neva J face daunting tasks as a single mom with wit and humor. She took classes in photography and had the heart of a saint. Although we had little, I knew she would always provide for me and her. If someone was in need, she always shared what she had.
MJ has always been smarter and more skilled than me. I owe my success to her. Her analytical thinking and problem-solving skills are exemplary. MJ taught in a church school for five years. Her professional services were donated. MJ taught Aaron and Jonathon at home for several years so that I could be with them during the day as I worked nights.
My friend Elizabeth is brilliant. The work that she has done at Southern Illinois University is worth countless more than she has been paid. Added to all of her duties she leads the Civil Service Council and has achieved many benefits for the Civil Service Community.
My friend Cyndy is compassionate and adept at administration. She cared for her mother for many years and she is a wonderful singer. Her glowing personality draws all who meet her.
I have watched sexism and misogyny all of my life. Men who think that they have more ability than women due to their gender. Men who do not trust women leaders. It is an abomination to marginalize the skills and brainpower of women. Many of them have forgotten more than we men know. Historically men work their eight hours and come home to put their feet up and enjoy sports and a beer. Their female partners know the first eight was half of their daily shift. Women manage their homes and plan their daily activities. And we hope they are not stressed…
My friend Margo writes blogs and books that I learn from. A caring person who does little more than smile when she encounters male hubris.
Women search for answers and then implement them. Women are doers, not talkers. Women create compromise which is the oil that keeps the engine of life running.
My sister Marcy has fortitude like a rock. She is brilliant and never brags. She speaks with a glance.
Let us think again about our outdated beliefs regarding women. They are the answer to many of our endemic problems. They do not seek to belittle but to lift up.
Four Days Until #67
Marcy was speaking of weaving this morning and I wondered about the speed of life likened to a Weaver’s Shuttle. We visited New Mexico and watched a weaver use her shuttle. The rapidity of the instrument can’t be measured by the eye. Such are the fleeting years of our lives. When young we are the Captain of our Ship and the Master of our soul. With aplomb, we start our journey with little thought of how long it will be. As we enter a new decade we mark the calendar about our achievement.
Many things about age keep you young. Morning is new every day. Listening to the trees talking to each other in the woods is calming. The look of thousands of leaves changes moment by moment and never the same way. The joy of Brock and Marcy’s visit.
Laughing is essential. I have experienced uproarious laughter twice this month. It has been fun! First with Margo and Jeff in Maine when I told The Massage story. Yesterday Marcy, Brock, MJ, Aaron Jonathon, and the Birthday Boy laughed until we cried! The hilarity and Joie de vivre of being with people you love and are in total comfort with is refreshing.
Laughter solves problems. Laughter is medicine. Laughter heals.
One foot in Heaven and one foot on Earth. Eyes for the mystical with a sense of place. The future can be seen through the windshield. Past can be seen in the rearview mirror. Get behind the wheel of the 57′ Chevy and put the convertible top down. Drive to the Orpheum Theatre then Pounds Hollow and a Maine Holiday. End the trip with your brother and sister from Tennessee. Laugh all the way as the road widens. What is next? More laughs more tears and more love…
Marcy & Brock Day
They’re coming…they are really coming! ‘The children were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.’ ‘Mom in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.’ ‘When out on the lawn I heard such a clatter I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.’
Christmas in October is today. The Tennessee Brooks are coming. They will bring glad tidings of good cheer.
Finding Brock and Marcy was a great gift. Last year, we journeyed to Maine. We heard a ghost say hello several times and danced to the tune of Pudding and Big Girl. Puddin and Big Girl are characters we invented in Maine. We saw a sign in a yard that said ‘No Frigging Way’ and quickly adopted ‘Frigging’ as our go to word.
Jonathon has ordered a Movie Trivia Game that will be delivered this afternoon. Movie Trivia here we come!
Shakespeare said, “To be or not to be, that is the question.” It is nice to be with dear friends and family. No putting on airs as Jed Clampett said of Beverly Hillbillies fame. There is a rhythm and rhyme to knowing people well. Words are not required. A glance is sufficient.
In a lonely world traveling life’s road is more fun with others. We discover that we are more alike than different. Money, fame, fortune, really are artificial seperators.
The Happy Traveler 