Thunder is rolling like the Rolling Thunder Review of Bob Dylan fame. Southern Illinois is a land of storms. Storms have a bit of a calming effect until they do not. I am watching the neighbor’s cat looking around and wondering what all of the fuss is about. The rock creeks of the woods were alive with rapid-flowing water this afternoon. Memorial Day picnic celebrations had been rained out. I wore my trusty raincoat but was hot.

We sit in our little stick houses much like one of the Three Little Pigs and we know because we read the story that the wolf can come and huff and puff and blow our house down. A real thought but not heartwarming.

A flock of geese just flew over and announced their concern. The picture is forming that we live on the razor’s edge. So we have an ever-present reason to believe in God.

Storms enter our lives and it appears that all is lost and then the sun shines again. We laugh and frolic as children at play. Forgetting the bad times and focusing on the good. Does prayer change things? We may not know but we know that it makes us feel better. Are there miracles in the world…just look around.

Storms have always been in the political arena. It seems of late they have come to stay. We humans are enough for me to believe in God. Humans are intricate and capable of performing miracles.

The single mother raising her kids and living a challenging life who never complains and the kids feel like they are millionaires because of Mom’s love.

A young veteran who loses his legs in combat and yet has a wonderful and full-of-life attitude stands taller than most.

The homeless woman sits outside the fine restaurant and when you pass her by she says God Bless You and you feel her sincerity.

The randomness of destruction and devastation is pervasive. A tornado hits one home and skips the next. If we are the spared ones do we think well it is good that we have been paying our tithes and offerings or do we set about helping our neighbor who needs so much in this cruel moment…

The Woods was full of families enjoying Memorial Day picnics. The shelter that I customarily relaxed from my walk-in was full of happy eaters. I love the idea of picnics. It is replete with family friends and happy times. I do not enjoy the experience of eating at an open-air picnic table as my fly friends will not stay off the potato salad.

During my halcyon days in Eldorado, we picnicked often at Karel Park. There was Aunt Vema Guelda and Wanda…the three sisters of Neva J. They admonished me to eat up and I have taken that sage advice up until and including today. Uncle Bill would smile broadly and run his tongue between a gap in his front teeth. Cousin Brenda was her usual lovely self and often talked with me with her slow drawl of pleasant words. Grandma A was the center of the family the matriarch. A good-natured woman who listened more than she spoke. Cousin Billy was talking about his favorite monsters and science-fiction movies. Uncle Ed sat back with the air of contentment that a retired farmer with a lot of money emanates.

Neva J brought her Roast Beast and Christmas Coffee Cake her specialties. We spoke of the Vietnam War and the

possibility that Billy would soon be drafted. Church was a ready topic of discussion. Some scandal had hit the church that many of my family were members of and Billy told me that the lead minister of the movement who had the initials TM stood for ‘Tit Masher.’ He laughed and I wondered why he would want to mash tits.

Chet came along to some of the family picnics and loved the big family affair. Chet had been adopted and had no family outside of his mother as his dad had passed away suddenly. We enjoyed exploring Karel Park which seemed humongous to me. There was a large pond in the Park. Uncle Bill fished there after the Picnic Feast.

‘Did you see him,’ Chet asked? ‘He is about six inches tall and is under that oak tree over by the pond,’ he continued. ‘He said for you to come over and that he would introduce himself,’ Chet smiled.

‘Hello Billy B are you enjoying the picnic,’ the Gnome asked? ‘My family and I have enjoyed so many picnics at the Park and we rarely have to bring anything as we follow the faith of The Borrowers,’ he said matter of factly. ‘My wife is Earline and I am Edgar, the children are Eskek and Euripedes,’ he informed.

‘My goodness you are a bit small do you have any trouble with the giants among you,’ Billy B asked.

‘No they have no knowledge of us they have decided to focus on their jobs and their human concerns while we while away our days in Gnome Bliss, Edgar answered with a wink. ‘We see much and reveal little but we savvy we understand the ways of humans,’ he said.

‘What will happen with the Vietnam War,’ Chet asked?

‘The United States went into Vietnam slowly but will exit quickly,’ Edgar said.

‘Will RFK become president in 1968,’ Billy B asked?

‘Haters will prevent this from happening our leaders tell us that you humans will not leave war until you learn of our ways of peace,’ Edgar sadly noted.

‘Will church become a safe place for all people,’ Chet asked?

‘Only when they decide to follow the message of Christ,’ Edgar answered with tears in his eyes.

‘Ask the humans if there is any potato salad left that the flies have not sat on and hamburgers and some Oscar Mayer Weiners,’ Earline said.

‘Come to the table and dine and let me introduce you to the family,’ Billy B said with a happy dance.

‘Come and sit by me and fill your little plates until they are overflowing do I have a story to tell you,’ Neva J said with verve!

‘Do I have some special Merlot Wine for you pretty lady made by my family,’ Edgar said with a wink and a smile…

Did you ever try to walk backward? A few times in my early adulthood, I walked backward while the store owner walked forward as we carried a piece of furniture. I got pretty pretty pretty…good at it as Larry David would say.

Walking backward is a bit dangerous. You can not see where you are going. You do not have eyes in the back of your head as I often swore Neva J did. Yet in many societal arenas, we seem determined to master the Paula Abdul song ‘Two Steps Forward and One Step Back…opposites attract.’

MJ pointed out to me that my Father’s Day gift from her had apparently done a ‘Ping-Pong’ delivery route in the suburbs of Chicago for an entire day. How is it that we can no longer write our name and not read cursive? We sit down to enjoy a fine restaurant meal and everyone is mesmerized by the flashing photos and videos on their iPhones.

Much of our thinking has been contracted out or Privatized to social media television and conspiracy theories that are given the elite position of…’It could be true or as George Costanza said on Seinfeld, ‘It is not a lie if you believe it.’

The bedrock of norms has been co-opted by some who lie in almost every sentence and fear not that they will be held accountable. As our brains become less agile for lack of use we laugh and wink at our coming calamity. After all, haven’t they been telling us for all of our lives that the end of the world is coming. We are still here. Let’s have another piece of pie and another cup of coffee…

Reading is fundamental the TV commercial told us last century. ‘A mind is a terrible thing to waste was popular in the 1980s.’ Now AI is here and our robotic assistants will soon be our masters.

A proud European country had lost a major war and their indebtedness was massive. Their economy had tanked and the value of their currency was measured by the wheel barrel load. A nondescript outcast artist and budding insurrectionist with a quirky salute and a funny mustache said follow me and I will make you rich and powerful. The people said sounds good to me… Then the decline. Former friends were now vermin. The people were concerned about the purity of their blood. The Vermin looked humorous with the big yellow stars. You did not need a stress ball when you had living stress balls that you could beat with your bats and listen to them cry out for mercy. The people felt better for the easy decision to quit thinking for themselves and let the funny mustache man who goose-stepped and primped and preened before his speech do their thinking for them. Periodically there was a stab of rueful remorse and regret…but after all…the People were still here and need not worry for their sins…they had a sin-eater.

As happens when you walk in the woods every day it rained today.
I purchased a raincoat in St. Louis a few years ago. During my years at Southern Illinois University, I carried an umbrella. I like rain. I am looking at my cypress tree just outside the Writing Porch, which glistens with the newly fallen drops. I shine a bit after a rain walk.

Rain has a calming effect on me. When it is raining I see the world in a special light. Daily activities usual hustle and bustle become quiet as the rain falls. There is time for pause and reflection. Space for contemplation and reflection. We require a quiet place to assess what we have done and what we are preparing to do. Multitasking is a myth. Focus is the reality.

MJ and I had some dear friends that we regularly had dinner with. When we joined them in their lovely home for cocktails and Hors d’oeuvres over-sparkling conversation. Then was dinner which was often an exercise in Haute cuisine. There were so many unique tastes, textures, and red wine that it was easy to be overwhelmed. As the after-dinner drinks were served it was apparent we were all Dog Tired. What had begun with the beauty of anticipation ended in yawns and heartfelt goodbyes.

Folks like us require rest and downtime to recharge our batteries. We are not Energizer Bunnies. Our circuitry has to reboot. Rain does that for me.

Words spoken in haste are words from a tired mind and mouth. Mylo is in the best of humor early in the morning. He growls in the evening when his wishes are not fulfilled. So it goes…

Perhaps fresh rain could be a medicine in our political life. A time of serene thought and meditation. Plans that come from the people we were before the fiery rhetoric and passion for winning captured our hearts and minds. Return to youngsters and devoid of climbing the ladder of success no matter who falls off as we ascend…

‘I have packed plenty of Merlot and Oscar Mayer Wieners for Chet,’ Neva J grinned from ear to ear. ‘You know this Memorial Day the Orpheum Theatre is erecting a giant movie screen to show the movie The Blob,’ she added with a joyous shiver. ‘Steve McQueen is the Cat’s Pajamas,’ she said.

‘I am going to wear my Creature From The Black Lagoon costume and once it is good and dark I will emerge from Pounds Hollow Lake and trudge through the audience on the beach,’ Billy B said with some satisfaction, ‘Everyone will be so emersed into their fear of the Blob that they will not notice me until is too late,’ he smiled.

‘I heard that there is a blob-like substance around the beach where you enter the water that the Park Rangers have not been able to identify,’ Jane said with a concerned look. ‘I hope it does not crawl up my arm and eat me,’ she said.

‘As for me I shall be modeling my Lost In Space Robot outfit which is a hit with the kids,’ Chet said. ‘It is high time to throw off the shackles of school and kick off the Summer Vacation with a bang,’ Chet observed. ‘I hope that our teachers will be there for this unprecedented movie and swimming event which is certain to become an annual event,’ he continued.

‘Look at all of these people laying on their beach towels and sipping their Merlot and Peppermint Schnapps,’ Billy B observed. ‘Dad is smoking this new pipe that I gave him for an early Father’s Day gift,’ Billy B smiled knowing that he had done well and that he was a good boy.

‘Please only swim in the designated area as The Blob has been found in the campground and attacked a Ranger who had to be rushed to the hospital,’ Steve McQueen said to the audience. ‘I do not know how I got here but this is live and in real-time,’ he continued.

‘That does not compute,’ said Chet dressed as the Lost In Space Robot.

‘My God it is the Creature From The Black Lagoon,’ cried out Buddy. ‘He is roaming through the crowd on the beach and what is that gelatinous material that he is covered with,’ Buddy said with fear in his voice!

‘Breaking news from Pounds Hollow that several people watching the film The Blob contracted a blob-like substance on their arms and legs and have been admitted to Ferrel Hospital for treatment,’ WSIL Channel 3 announced on the 5:00 P:M: news. ‘On a related note actor Steve McQueen noted that he was at the event to promote his new movie and things got a bit out of hand after the Creature From The Black Lagoon spread fear and a gooey substance throughout the Memorial Day gathering…

It seems we were wishing each other Happy New Year a day or two ago. Now we look closely at the 6 month mark for 2024. We are a bit like the old silent movies where the actors move in hurried jerky motions. To outside observers, we must appear similar. The heat bakes our skin until the chilly winds of autumn soon arrive.

I heard recently that during our lives we are different people. Time and travail sun wind and rain mold us. The good news for we oldsters is that studies have shown that an aging brain is a brain full of experience and wisdom. We may get tongue-tied from time to time but we know where we are going and where we have been. Our fascination with our forgotten youth is a false hurdle that we have constructed on the track of our journey. We can be who we want to be. ‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast.

Today is reality. Tomorrow is hope. Yesterday was a lovely dream.

Nature affords a sense of place and time. We see ourselves as a player in the large theatrical production called Life. Nature illustrates the changes we go through.

Seek we do for others to understand our journey. Our story is unique and no one has it but us. Billions of images have crossed our field of vision. Sounds enter our ears constantly including the sound of silence. We are attuned to faces. Show us a new face and we will file the image away for further reference. Faces bring us comfort. Faces are like a mirror for our souls. In other’s eyes, we see ourselves.

We love a good story. Our lives are a story. Everything that moves us is based on a story. We follow our life’s road by our motivation of the stories we have heard and accepted as ours. Every trial comes down to who has the best story.

Political affiliations come from the stories that political parties and politicians tell. I heard the story of Christ and it warmed my heart. I felt and knew that there was truth in the love of Jesus. Yesterday was Pentecost Sunday or the birthday of the church. Church is a wonderful and peaceful place. Church is where we learn and absorb the story of, ‘beating our swords into plowshares and our spears into pruning hooks.’ The church is where we first hear the concept of the lion laying down with the lamb and nothing will hurt or destroy in my holy mountain sayeth the Lord.’

We desire faith. We want to believe in something bigger than we are.

Today’s world is full of extenuating circumstances. Acceptance and love is the answer. Acceptance of ourselves is what we seek. Acceptance of others who are different than we are is what we want if we follow Carpenter’s message. Deleting people or ignoring those who do not believe like us is not the message of peace.

A young man sat in the back pew at church. He emanated the air of humility. He sang the songs from the hymnal and his eyes searched the congregation for acceptance. It was a bit obvious that he had been dismissed and marginalized many times. His clothes were marked by soil. He parked his bicycle by the front doors.

I vividly recall walking through the little village of Elkville with pants that were termed ‘High Waters’ as I was tall and had grown out of them. My friends had fine cars and I had none. I was hungry and was ashamed to admit it. I felt like a failure and worked every day often 16 and more hours per day. It is easy to feel that no one cares and wonders why you do not have more. Alone is your companion. Want and deprivation is a constant reality.

Do we love the mentally ill? Is the stranger welcome in our midst? Is our story targeted to the elite and financially secure or do we have a message for the downtrodden and forgotten?

Political life and the crowning of those who are rich have been elevated to a leadership plotline in our story. Are we perceived as an elite club of the educated and well-off while we bemoan our shrinking congregational base?

We are comfortable…do we want to be uncomfortable for Christ?

It is hot in Little Egypt. Typical for the latter half of May. I was not a big fan of summer as a youngster as we had no air conditioning. When you have no AC and enter a business that has a drawing of Old Man Winter on the glass front door blowing cold air inside the Ben Franklin Dime Store on a hot June day you want to shop there often and marvel at the extreme chill as compared with the outside furnace.

That is where my love for Pounds Hollow began. When you were in the Pounds Hollow Lake it was heavenly. It did not matter if it was 100 degrees as long as you were immersed in the natural cool waters. It was another world. I was not a sports enthusiast but I loved swimming. When floating your ears are covered by the friendly waters and all of the world is yours.

‘Let’s swim out into the deep waters,’ Chet said with a gleeful laugh. ‘I have heard that there is a door in the woods on the other side of the Lake,’ he added.

‘What a fine red door,’ Jane said as she decided to swim into the dark deep with Chet and Billy B. ‘Who would have built a door in the woods and painted it red,’ she asked?

‘I swear it looks like the door to a church I attended many years ago,’ Neva J said with amazement! ‘For my memory, the Red Door could not be opened,’ she continued. ‘I always wondered what was behind the Red Door,’ Neva J said mysteriously.

‘Come in good friends,’ an old man said as he pulled the Red Door open.’ ‘I am Billy B and I have been waiting a long while for you…’

I was talking with a former colleague from my SIUC days this morning. Her reference to life was similar in many ways to mine. We are all more alike than we are different. We humans are cut from the same cloth. Believing we are special is a deception wrought by our ego.

I enjoyed the book Nuclear War by Annie Jacobsen so much that I am reading it again. I have never read such a clear and accurate account of the devastation of the Nuclear War. The idea that deterrence is facilitated by which country has the most nuclear weapons is absurd. Our governments are a bit like Nero who fiddled while Rome burned.

Life’s Clock is ticking as we live lives of quite desperation. We want what we do not have and ignore the riches that surround us. I read a Washington Post article today that quoted a study that age is not a deterrent to leadership. Older folks are usually wiser and have more even temperaments. Forgetting someone’s name or the occasional word salad is not a marker for mental acuity.

Servant Leaders are needed! The clarion call goes forth for leaders who want to help others. Our world is full of Servant Leaders. People who give up their time and talents with no thought of remuneration or personal aggrandizement. When the spotlight is shining and the microphone is hot they are in the background working for their constituents. Most of us are not living in the fiery extremity of conservative or liberal passion. We have a sense of place.

Fight we do for our rights. Victory is a zero-sum game where one side wins and one side loses. We war with our neighbors to bring peace. We persecute those who are different from us to please our War-Like god. Millions are dying from hunger and we are fat from our Horn-Of-Plenty. Babies with bloated bellies stare at us with wide sad eyes. We erect Vomitoriums to purge our gluttony…

‘Oh my God we must get in the backyard bomb shelter now,’ Neva J screamed! ‘Grab the transistor radio and the batteries,’ she commanded! ‘The bombs will arrive in 6 minutes,’ she said with tears in her eyes.

‘I thought President Kennedy had made a deal with Kruscheve and that the missile scare was over,’ Billy B said. ‘Jane Chet get in the shelter…there is no time for you to return to your families,’ Billy B exhorted.

‘How did we come to this point what madness possessed us to believe that with all of the nuclear bombs that Russia and the United States have sooner or later one of us was going to try them out,’ Chet said. ‘The Nuclear Clock must surely be on Noon today,’ Chet whispered…

‘As I climbed into the shelter and shut the door there was such a brilliant light like the Sun at its zenith I stared at it a moment and now I can not see,’ Jane said…

‘I can not wait for school to be over,’ Jane said with a gleeful smile. ‘The Halloween in May idea is exciting we will all be able to wear our masks 5 months early and how they are constructed to fit over our heads we will not know who each other is,’ she continued. ‘I wonder if we would have peace on Earth if we all first met each other with our masks on and did not judge by our differences but rather from the content of our character as Dr. King said,’ Jane offered.

‘We are a bit parochial in our initial assessment of others and often do not take the time to know the people we encounter,’ Chet said. ‘The Star Trek model of various and very different intelligent life across our galaxy is not common on Earth,’ Chet continued. ‘Babies love each other for who they are and have no prejudice until they are taught to be so,’ he said with a gleam in his eye.

‘Some of my best friends are African Americans,’ Billy B noted. ‘They treat me with love and acceptance and no judgment,’ he said. ‘Political Parties are another false construct dividing people, Billy B observed. ‘Economic status is a horrible yoke to bear with those who are richer perceived to be better than those who are poor,’ he observed with a tear in his eye.

‘Women are discounted in our society when they can do anything that men do and often better,’ Neva J announced. ‘Their pay is less than men for the same job,’ she continued. ‘Men make laws governing women when they know little about them or what they endure,’ Neva J said softly.

‘My goodness this is fun I have no idea who you are but I am mesmerized by your wisdom,’ said Jane as she listened to the masked person. ‘Are you one of my classmates,’ she asked?

‘I sit next to you each day in class sometimes you do not see me,’ He said. ‘Once you told me that I had a voice like the ocean,’ He continued. ‘Some places at school I am welcome while other places I am not,’ He continued. ‘Often I sit next to you in the pew at church we sing merrily the hymns,’ He observed.

‘Why are you not welcome everywhere in school,’ Jane asked with wonder? ‘Certainly, you must be welcome at church,’ she asked with some passion!

‘My clothing is a bit rough at times I do not eat for a day or two,’ He said. ‘Congregants fear that I might be a panhandler or a terrorist,’ He said. ‘I am sad when the church members go to fellowship and I am not invited I would only eat a little and perhaps enjoy a cup of coffee…I love a good cup of coffee,’ He said.

‘Do you have a family,’ Jane asked beseechingly?

‘I bring my kids with me to church they love the uplifting music and the gospel message about us,’ He said. ‘They especially enjoy the scripture where Jesus said that if you are kind to the little ones you are kind to him,’ He said.

‘How would we recognize you when you are beside us without your mask,’
Chet asked?

‘My skin is bronze and I have a bit of an injury in both of my hands,’ He said…