Spring is soft. The easy climate enhances an easy mind. No hurry, no worry. Time to think. Time to reflect. Time to look forward to the rest of 2026. Happiness accompanies each of us. Other people are not in charge of our happiness. We wear it like a new shirt. We love it as a constant friend. We wake with it and sleep with our comforter. The birds are singing outside the Writing Porch. They enjoy watching the humans, but often in perplexity. Birds know who they are and what their lives are about. The gift of a Pleasant Land is not lost on them. The gift of life is to be celebrated. Singing all day is appropriate.

Anxiety comes from false constructs. None of us is intended to be the same. When our neighbor is our ruler for success, we become anxious. Some of us are fat kids, while others are skinny. Some of us are artisans while others are academics. The Old Man enjoys writing. Spring renews us for the journey that is short and yet long.

Employment is wonderful. Employment is not life. Life is the sum of its parts. Family Friends Faith…engagement in the excitement of day-to-day living. When I rub Mylo’s ears, he is happy. We all need a little ear rubbing.

‘A soft answer turns away wrath.’ Words hurt…words heal. Be a healer. Sow hope in the heart of everyone you meet. Spring is a time for planting. As babies, we loved each other. A smile turned our heads. The sound of mother’s voice soothed us…We drifted off to sleep. Such is the angel of happiness. Always by our side, watching for bumps in the road. When conflict raises its head, we say what our angel told us…not today…God Bless.

Five dollars per gallon. I have never seen such a thing. A $20 sits at the bottom of your gas tank, feeling alone. I remember when any trip included the important consideration of how much the gas would cost. Folks did not drive for pleasure…they could not afford to. Public transportation is not an option for rural people. The cost of a gallon of gas has doubled in less than two months. This means the cost of all goods and services will be going up. Affordability is real.

It is not unusual for workers to drive 50 miles one way to work at Southern Illinois University, which affords a living wage in Southern Illinois. Their work travel has doubled in the blink of an eye. The cost will be more than many can bear. Something has to give. A high percentage of people do not have $1,000 saved for an emergency. They do not have $500.00.

Political leaders dance while those they represent suffer…they have no clue… oblivious to common sense. One thing I learned in the late 1970s was that we need the Strait of Hormuz. Big Beautiful Bombs, as with the Big Beautiful Bill, are not the be-all and end-all of peace and prosperity.

Political rhetoric does not produce real-world answers to real-world problems. A leader may live in a fantasy world of his own construction, but the camera does not lie. Hard Times require Hard Writers…

The Old Man walked through the Woods in the light rain. His friends, Mr. Badger and Mr. Mole, walked beside him. They spoke of good times and happy days. ‘I think it is when the lying starts that trouble begins,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘When we cease to tell each other the truth, we cheapen our friendship,’ Mr. Badger continued. ‘Soon we are a bit aimless, going too and fro in our lives seeking pleasure above understanding,’ Badger said. ‘Honesty is the bedrock that we are built upon,’ MB noted. ‘We can all agree on basic truth…it is immutable,’ MB laughed. ‘My Old Friend…you must write of the Old Ways,’ Mr. Badger told the Old Man. ‘If we Old Baby Boomers do not remind our colleagues of the good paths…we all will be lost in the Woods,’ Mr. Badger noted solemenly.

‘Life is somewhat dim for me until I put on my spectacles,’ Mr. Mole noted. ‘Often I leave them on the side table when the world is too hard to look at,’ Mole continued. ‘I have discovered that not seeing the world clearly does not prevent evil from occurring…I have decided to face it with my spectacles firmly planted on my nose,’ Moley laughed.

‘Look ahead, there is the Preacher and the little flock,’ the Old Man said. ‘This is where the meeting of Truthtellers is meeting in secret,’ the Old Man smiled. ‘Let us join them and tell the truth together,’ the Old Man said. ‘We will sit by the rushing creek and remember Jerusalem,’ the Old Man said softly…

We like cozy. We have windows we look out…we do not want people to look in. No man is an island, but we try. People are refreshed if the dosage is not too high. Fears from without and within compel us to privacy. Our Shell is warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Perhaps we answer the door, or we look out of the window to see who it is. We might have to play opossum.

Our world is full of wonder. There are many good people. Trying something new brings excitement to living. Suddenly, our minds are engaged, and our spirits soar with the eagles. A heady experience when compared to our Shell. As a boy, I feared public speaking. In the halcyon days of my youth, book reports were a requirement. Trepidation consumed me. I loved my Shell! Yet, I soldiered on. Imagine my surprise when the class loved my retelling of the book I had read! They laughed and clapped and wanted more. A transformation had occurred. To this day, when I speak publicly, I can not explain the metamorphosis. We Shell lovers never change. Yet a hidden side of me takes over in a public oration. No one is more surprised than me…

Dip your toe in the water. Perhaps you will want to pull up your trousers and wade out into the cold majestic for a few feet. You know where butterflies come from…

Reversals cause us to withdraw into our shells. It is easier to peek out at the world than to interact with it, we say. ‘In my Shell I am safe from all harm,’ the Old Man mused. ‘It is a quiet place, but sometimes I like a little excitement,’ the Old Man said. ‘Good people inspire me,’ the Old Man continued. ‘It is a meaningful experience to help another,’ the Old Man thought. ‘Perhaps if we all removed our shells, we could learn more about each other,’ OM contemplated.

In the summer of 2018 I was in a car crash. I was so shaken up when it happened and in the minutes afterwards! The great news is that I was not …

Car Crashes and Sweet New Glasses

So, we are getting closer to our next journey to New Orleans. It has taken a special place in the Old Man’s heart. It made January special. From the chilly air, walking to the train, to the nap in the car as we clickety-clacked down the track. joy after the Holiday Season. Christmas in January. The Hotel Monteleone was better than we had even expected.

There is a magical Spirit in the French Quarter. People living life for the sheer joy of it! People who have gotten the message. As the Jamaican man told me in Philadelphia, ‘What you cryin about Mon.’ When you are in the French Quarter, you do not feel like crying.

There is music on every corner. Musicians playing from their hearts. Music from the heart touches hearts. Laughter was consuming. Self-awareness was minimal.

‘Are you guys ready to explore the French Quarter?’ Jane asked with a chuckle. ‘I looked out my window and saw a brass band marching down the street,’ Jane noted with a wink. ‘Each person I meet is genuine,’ Jane observed. ‘I am accustomed to artifice and disguise,’ Jane continued. ‘How much happier we would be just being ourselves,’ Jane observed. ‘The Hotel Monteleone is noted as a Writer’s Haven, and I can see why, as the ambiance is perfect for writing,’ Jane said, smiling as she took out her pen for a reminder.

‘We spend our days worrying about work, our careers…how our productivity enhances our sense of self,’ Chet said. ‘Did God create us to work for more money 24/7?’ Chet asked. ‘What about food for our spirit, our souls’ growth…the examination of questions beyond the temporal,’ Chet continued. ‘The Singer sang from her soul,’ Chet said softly. ‘She sang from hardship, pain, suffering,’ Chet noted. ‘The words had power beyond the written page,’ Chet said.

‘Look, there is a dancer in the middle of the lane…he is dancing as if no one is watching,’ Billy B said. ‘The dancer has complete freedom of self…he marches to the tune of a different drummer,’ Billy B laughed with joy. ‘The Bartender at the Carousle Bar in the Hotel Monetleone told us that we were good people,’ Billy B said. ‘He said that he sees a lot of people and he knows,’ Billy B continued. ‘The Carousel Bar circles slowly to afford the people sitting there a panoramic view of the lovely surroundings,’ Billy B circled as he spoke. ‘I reflected on life on Earth…we circle each day and never stop to see what we are passing,’ Billy B laughed heartily.

56 degrees. Time to break out the coat. Time to think warm thoughts. Time waits for no one. The Writing Porch is reminiscent of fall. I may start writing about Christmas. Stranger things have happened.

Transition is coming. We think everything stays the same, but it does not. As we change daily, so does our environment. As it has been said, a rut is a grave with both ends removed. A New Day is coming. Indeed, this is true each day. Change is watching us. Mr. Change does not reveal himself before it is time. He waits patiently for the right moment. Those who speak the loudest have few answers to life’s persistent questions.

We build the torn-down places of our lives. We rebuild with purpose. Much of life is rebuilding the good structures. We used to play Jenga, where the object was to see how high you could build a tower out of slim wooden blocks. Now and then, you took a block out of the middle of the structure. Sometimes it fell. Much the same happens with our construction endeavours.

‘Let Joe do it,’ Mr. Critic said. ‘He is in on the know and the one they always call on,’ Mr. Critic continued. ‘Joe is a cornerstone in the Church…nothing gets done without his approval,’ Mr. Critic laughed.

‘Lord, make me an instrument of Change for the better lives of your creation,’ Joe prayed.

‘There are not the number of my supporters that there usually are,’ the President said. ‘I dance for them regularly, but they do not respond like they did at one time, the President continued. ‘I try new avenues daily, but the Democrats and my enemies are always in the middle of the road of success,’ P said. ‘Before I was the Change that they long for, but now they seek another Messiah,’ P grimaced.

So it is Friday night. The weekend is here. We know now is the time for fun. Trivia and trifles. Maybe some truffles. We have laid our burdens down. Monday will come again. We are Weekend People. Time for Game Day. Time to make ammends. Time to make friends of our enemies and make our friends love us. A little prestidigitation…a little alchemy.

Songs lift the spirit. There is magic in the air. Who can make a silk purse from a sow’s ear? Have we discovered how to make diamonds from coal? Hearts are easier to deal with. A stony heart can return to a heart of flesh. We look around and see that we are still here. Where there is life, there is hope.

‘Please keep your eyes glued on the top hat that I am waving my magic wand over,’ Chet intoned. ‘Tonight you will see a piece of magic that will either excite you or frighten you,’ Chet continued. ‘This is only designed to be seen once,’ Chet continued. ‘What you are about to partake in is life-changing…you will not leave this venue as you came,’ Chet promised. ‘You came in burdened by the load of life you carry,’ Chet said. ‘You will leave by another way,’ Chet smiled. ‘Do not take your eyes off the Hat,’ Chet emphasized.

‘Where are we?’ Jane asked. ‘I passed myself on the way to the concert…the girl looked just like me except different,’ Jane continued. ‘The clouds are multicolored,’ Jane observed. ‘A lamb has been nuzzling my leg and smiling at me,’ Jane observed. ‘Everyone seems happy… anxiety-free…there is a spiritual feeling in the air,’ Jane whispered. ‘Mom and Dad are in the audience…they have been dead for many years,’ Jane said. ‘I hear the sound of many waters flowing and the sound of doves,’ Jane said softly.

‘Look in the distance…the fighting has ended,’ Billy B noted. ‘Children are reading in the town square,’ Billy B continued. ‘The President is talking about all of us joining meetings around round tables to talk about what we want our country to be,’ Billy B said. ‘There is a giant Top Hat on the horizon,’ Billy B exclaimed…

The weather is a bit fall-like. It is. Mayday. A day that was a pretty big deal when I was a lad. We danced around the Maypole. You do not hear much about the Maypole these days. A third of 2026 is gone. The next third will go quicker. We are a part of the Earth. Spirits housed in Earthen Jars. Some think that their Earthen Jar is better than the rest. They are the same. When the rich and the poor talk together, many of their concerns are similar. False walls are constructed between people. Politicians do this for their own agendas. We are temporary in this life. Grandma A said if you live to be 100, your life will be short.

We are code speakers. A wink, a special handshake… an understanding that not all are in the Club. The academic elite have their own code. They listen to the great unwashed in a benevolent manner. There are ‘Professor Types,’ and then those who are ‘Blue Collar.’ Blue Collar are manual laborers, while academics do the profound thinking. The Blue Collar folks may be genius…wise…idea people…yet are rarely heard in the academic circles.

Then, there are angels in Earthen Pottery. People who transcend the Clubs and code. Earth Angels who see the Angel in each person they encounter. We live in the Potter’s Field so often. We scrape ourselves with potsherds and eye the success of our neighbor with a yellow eye. We are fashioned by the Master Potter. Our value is invaluable. Mindset can be changed. Living in fear can be altered. If we could see the great throng of witnesses surrounding us…We would take courage.

‘I remember what it was like to have nothing,
Billy B said. Neva J and I stood in Commodity lines to receive government cheese, dry milk, and potted meat,’ Billy B continued. ‘The workers threw the items onto the ground, and we scurried to pick the food up, Billy B remembered. ‘No one was our advocate…we did not know powerful people…we had no voice,’ Billy B said softly. ‘My shoes were made out of plastic, and my clothes were purchased at P.N. Hirsch, which was a bit of an upgrade from the Brokerage Store,’ Billy B laughed. ‘I wondered why some folks spoke to me condescendingly and with no empathy,’ Billy B noted. ‘The Principal’s secretary told the Principal that I did not know how to use a telephone…we did not have a telephone,’ Billy B smiled. ‘Through all of this odd treatment, I did not hate; I felt sorry for the people who seemed to feel that there was more than one category of kids,’ Billy B explained.

‘We need renewal of our vision,’ Chet observed. ‘Divisive words tear us apart…we need a Preacher,’ Chet proclaimed. ‘Not a Preacher who expounds on Prosperity and how to achieve it as a follower of Christ…one who speaks on Community,’ Chet observed. ‘A Preacher who sees an angel in each of our Earthen Pottery Vessels…not just the special people,’ Chet said quietly.

I believe I was born with a big heart. From a very young age being nice instead of mean was important to me. I was a shy kid. I can be a shy or …

Wholehearted

Our dear friend George passed away unexpectedly last week. He and his wife, Diane, are wonderful people. We have known them for many years. They are pillars in our community. If you needed help, they were there to help. They have a son and daughter who are simply Good People. MJ and I have been friends of George’s brother Jim and his lovely wife, Laura. We have watched their kids grow into wonderful, caring adults. I told Jim’s son, Greg, that he looked like a champ… which is my highest compliment. When I see Jim and Laura’s kids, my heart swells with pride. It has been my privilege to be invited to many celebrations at Jim and Laura’s home.
The energy and familial bond I felt each time I was there was extraordinary. I did not see George often since my retirement, but I had the good fortune to talk with him twice in the past six weeks. George had the unique ability to make you feel important and appreciated. George was a servant leader. He was a humble humanitarian. He was a great man!

Diane referred to MJ, our sons, Aaron and Jonathon, and me as good people. What a profound compliment from a great lady! George and Diane did not shout their faith from the mountain top…they lived it in the lives they helped.

Good People exist all around us. We pass them in Kroger’s and sit next to them at the Theatre. People who feel things deeply. People who care about others. We talk with them at the Lodge. They get up in the middle of the night when a fire occurs at the university to help with fire and smoke eradication products.

George loved Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale. When I needed his help as the head of the housekeeping department…George was there. George and Jim were a Godsend to my efforts as a manager of over 400 staff and 200 buildings.

I have known a few quiet warriors for good. The hidden treasure of Southern Illinois is Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale. New administration may not understand or do their research, but George Sheffer and the Sheffer family have blessed the University more times than can be counted. They were there for SIUC when no one stepped up. George sought neither admiration nor praise…he was a servant working for the master of his faith.