I began at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale on October 10, 1978. I had been reared with almost exclusively white people. The little non-denominational church that I attended in Elkville, Illinois had one African American member. I thought that African Americans were fascinating but I did not know any. My first foreman was Jim and he was African American. On one occasion when a white supervisor was giving me some unnecessary difficulty…Jim told him that,’ Brooks was his son…he just won’t call him Daddy.’ I loved Jim. He gave me my start at Building Services and I will never forget him!

I could not believe the diverse family that I had become a part of. The first custodial crew that I was assigned to had students from Iran and Turkey and Malaysia and Africa. I was immersed in the peoples of the world… When I became a crew supervisor, Christian from Gahna told me that all of the international students wanted to work with me because I had no prejudice. I have never received a greater commendation! I learned that people who are ethnically different than me or who have a different faith or who have no faith…are wonderful people. The world became a new home for me!

My dear friend, Rita, told me that when she thinks of me she thinks of a person who wanted to extend employment opportunities to all people…and with an emphasis on the disabled. The victories that we experienced in hiring the disabled and challenged were the sweetest victories that I experienced during my career. I had a passion to hire those who are unseen and unheard and marginalized and ignored. What I did was not special and certainly was not worthy of an award or recognition…it was simply my heart and soul…and could not imagine being a manager/administrator and not attempting to extend opportunities to those who have limited employment options.

Perhaps it was something in the water…but I lay the passion at the feet of my dear mother who loved those who seemed to be unloved. ‘One Eye’ was mom’s good friend. She actually had one eye and was nicknamed according to her disability. Mom loved her and took her to the market to pay her bills and had her to dinner at our home. Many made fun of ‘One Eye’ but not mom. She was mom’s equal and peer and dear friend.

Rosie lived alone and talked to herself a little. She had been married in earlier years and lost her husband to death. She was a lover of the dress called the Moo Moo. Rosie loved JFK and she had photos of him throughout her little home. When people saw Rosie walking down the street…they crossed to the other side. Not Mom! Mom loved Rosie and laughed with her and went places with her and let her know that she was important to her.

Jewel, who is the first foreman that I hired when I became Superintendent of Building Servies, told me on more than one occasion that she thought that I must be from Mars…as I had no prejudice… I love Jewel…she is one of the wisest people that I have ever known. Am I deserving of the kind compliments…of course not…but they have stayed with me since they were said to me.
African American people are precious and I am honored each time they trust me.

Disabled people are much more intelligent than me. They have an insight that I do not possess. They know when you are artificial and they know when you are real. Being friends with a diverse community at SIUC was the high point of my career.

Most of us came into the world with a slap on our backside and a lusty cry. We had been warm and safe and listening to our mother’s heartbeat music. When mom laughed we smiled knowing that all was right with our world. Then the bright lights of our new life showed on our faces…and we were sore and afraid…until we saw the radiant smile of our moms and dads. Life became different…and exciting!

MJ and Jonathon and I greeted two young women at Church last Sunday. Their faces lit up with the joy of being welcomed! When other humans care about us…we shine. Suddenly we see ourselves through their dancing eyes.

We have several chapters in our time on earth. Some are rosy and full of laughter and love…while others are looking through a glass darkly. Often we are fully prepared to be the master of our fate…while at other times we are at the bottom of the Ship Of Life wrenching from seasickness. The journey is both magnificent and miserable…often at the same time.

Shakespeare told us that all life is a stage and we are but players on it. Oh, but what a glorious play it is!
Green shoots are poking their new heads up between the brown leaves of last fall. They say, ‘ I am here to experience this miracle called life!

Peace is a bit elusive until we accept the journey on its’ terms rather than our own. The Sun is just behind the clouds. The Bible tells us, ‘Weeping may endure for a night…but joy cometh in the morning.’

It is reported that the animals in Turkey and Syria acted erratically just before the devastating earthquake struck a few hours ago. Birds flew in a manic manner and dogs howled prior to the shaking. The animal family realized what we humans did not sense.

Often we are obsessed with who is winning and who is losing…when we are all winners to be a part of God’s halcyon creation…

A few days ago we had an ice storm. It was below-freezing for several days. Old people, like me, are afraid to get out…no more broken ribs. Now it is 56 degrees and all is right with the world. At Giant City State Park the kids were out with their dog who was dutifully carrying a frisbee. Spring is on its way. The ice was melting into the creek and the water was singing. The Giant City Lodge had been closed since the middle of December…and now is open again. ‘Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning.’

‘When can we return to Pounds Hollow for a swim,’ Billy B. asked? ‘Well it is only February 5th,’ said Chet. ‘Yes, but have you ever heard of the Polar Bear Plunge,’ Billy B. responded. ‘This is the ideal day for a PB Plunge,’ said Jane with a wink. ‘It is 56 degrees and we can take our Salamander Heater to warm ourselves for when we get out of the water,’ Neva J. offered with a glass of Merlot in her hand and a laugh in her heart. ”Will it fit in the trunk of the 57′ Chevy,’ Daryl inquired? ‘ It sure will, Billy B. almost had his trousers burned off one below-zero day when we were working on the new church last winter,’ Chet said. ‘Yes that was the day that I had two pairs of trousers on and I was warming myself by the Salamander and enjoying its cozy flame…only to look down and see that the set closest to the flame had begun to melt,’ Billy B. said with some extreme feeling. ‘Did you not feel that your trousers were melting… did you not smell the smoke of burning polyester,’ Jane asked? ‘I only felt very warm and secure and happy to not be freezing in the unheated new portion of the church, Billy B. answered.

Pounds Hollow had a bit of a winter desolation about it. The Locker Rooms were closed as well as the little store. The melting snow and ice were dotting the beach. Chet and Daryl and Billy B. pulled the Salamander through the hole in the fence that they often used for such purposes. The Pond still had some spots of ice on it. ‘I am wearing my swimming trunks under my trousers,’ Chet noted. ‘Me too…and I am determined to not stand so close to the Salamander,’ Billy B. swore. ‘I have decided to just swim in my Birthday Suit,’ Daryl said with a lusty laugh! Neva J. and Jane had chosen to change their clothes behind the pavilion. ‘Fire it up,’ said Chet. ‘My God…the flame shoots out about three feet from the furnace,’ Neva J. said with alarm! ‘How do you think that my polyester trousers got melted,’ Billy B. exclaimed!

‘Oh, Jesus…Mary…and Joseph…the water is frigid,’ Billy B. shouted! ‘Dad says that if you want to acclimate yourself to cold water you must submerge yourself,’ Daryl exclaimed as he dove in and disappeared. ‘Where is Daryl,’ asked Chet? ‘He has been under the water for more than a minute,’ Jane said with fear in her voice. ‘Chet we must go under to see if we can find Daryl…what if he has passed out from the cold,’ Billy B. said. As Billy B. and Chet swam under the cold water they saw Daryl in an enclosed space sipping hot chocolate and talking with someone… they both seemed warm and dry and happy on a February afternoon. ‘Greetings Billy B. and Chet,’ said the Wiz who was Daryl’s dad. ‘How do you like the Creature From The Black Lagoons underwater home,’ Daryl asked? ‘Homer, that is the Creature’s given name, told me that I could use his home anytime that I wanted to…he currently is in Florida for the winter,’ The Wiz said. ‘Homer does not like the cold weather since he has become older,’ The Wiz explained. ‘He took his portable underwater home with him on the movie shoots and marveled that no one seemed to catch on that he had a secret abode in the Black Lagoon, The Wiz laughed! Homer has raised five kids and lives in Destin for much of the year…but he does do several Autograph Events in the warmer months,’ Daryl added. ‘We better get back to the beach and see how the girls are fairing,’ said Chet.

‘It is cold in a bathing suit and especially after jumping into the chilly water,’ Neva J. said. I am just happy that we have the Salamander with us to dry off and ward against the chill,’ Jane responded. ‘Hello ladies…you are here on a chilly day,’ said Homer. ‘Yes…are you the caretaker of Pounds Hollow,’ asked Neva J.? ‘No I have a little underwater house in the lake,’ Homer replied. ‘I think you would enjoy seeing it if you do not mind accompanying me and my friend…Nessie,’ Homer said.

Leonard Cohen spent his life searching for the spiritual. Last night I saw a lovely documentary regarding Mr. Cohen and his world-famous song Hallelughia. Hallelughia is a powerful song…Just ask Shrek. Cohen spent years writing Hallelughia. Indeed there is a spiritual element to the piece that is palpable.

When you meet a person who is putting all of themself into what they are doing…they are inspiring. Whether it be a song or a piano piece or a sermon…the genuineness of the participant engages the audience. There is a bit of a spiritual emanation from someone who is acting from their heart. Something quickens in the soul of the listeners and a connection is made. That spiritual connection fills concert halls and churches with the mystery of the Meaning.

The surface is our safe place. We skim-read our books and periodicals and we multitask while we are engaged in family dinners. As we watch sitcoms on television and we know just where to laugh and yet have difficulty explaining why the program was funny. Too often we are waiting for Godot.

Rusty, we are as we search for Meaning in our Surface World. We look at our reflection in the mirror and turn and forget who we saw. Great literature is from the heart. Meaningful poetry is written by our souls. Happiness is the union of us with our fellow humans through our mutual heritage of being spiritual beings…in clay huts.

Words have power. Words carry lightning in a bottle. Words can cause our spirits to soar on the wings of eagles.

Sleepy we are as we follow our somnambulist routine. Don’t touch us…we break…yet we long for a touch from our fellow travelers. We must stay safe in our impregnable fortress. More locks are the answer…more guns will aid us…we must survive the coming dearth and plagues.

Survive we did. We are alone…with all of the time in the world to now follow our hearts and enjoy our books and faith and family. But…what was it that we were excited about before we became so…afraid?

‘How long have we been driving,’ She said. ‘Well in one respect it seems like forever but on the other hand only a few minutes.’ He said. ‘We have to get home in time to take the kids to Tumble at Christopher,’ She said. ‘Our kids are middle-aged,’ He said. ‘I have been reading the road map and according to it we turn right in five miles,’ She said. ‘The GPS on my iPhone says for us to continue on the road that we are on,’ He said. ‘I have the feeling that we are driving in circles…if it was not so dark and foggy I would swear that we keep passing the same Gas Station,’ She said. ‘I did find it a bit interesting that we passed a white Subaru a dozen times,’ He said.

‘Have you finished your lesson, Grandpa said. ‘No I have another chapter to read,’ Grandma said. ‘Are you going out today on the ice,’ She said. ‘Not until the temperature gets above freezing,’ He said. ‘I can not afford any more broken ribs,’ He said. ‘Do you think that Trump will win in 2024, She said. ‘I am a Kennedy man myself,’ He said. ‘Are there any Kennedys left to run for President,’ She said. ‘JFK is just hitting his stride,’ He said. ‘You seem somewhat lost in time,’ She said. ‘Kennedy got us through the Cuban Missle Crisis and he will guide us forward,’ He said.

‘Why did you get out of the car last night…we were scared to death,’ She said. ‘My beach ball blew out of the window and I had to run and get it,’ Girl said. ‘Did you look before you crossed the road,’ He said. ‘Yes and a car passed by slowly and the people looked frightened when they saw me…with my beachball,’ Girl said. ‘The man was crying and he called me el diablo,’ Girl said. ‘How did you get home…you beat us there,’ He said. ‘Suddenly I was there in my bedroom watching Rosemary’s Baby,’ Girl said.

‘Hurry up we do not want to miss the cartoon before Frankenstein begins,’ He said. ‘I love the coming attractions,’ She said. ‘The Orpheum looks so welcoming at night with the Marquee Lights ablaze,’ He said. ‘At times I have a deja vu moment when I am in the Theatre,’ She said. ‘Mom can not get the top up on the 57′ Chevy…we may be going home in the rain,’ He said. ‘You know a Vintage 57′ Chevy is very valuable,’ She said. ‘Vintage…it is only 6 years old,’ He said.

‘It reminds me of a racetrack,’ He said. ‘We only go so far in any direction and then we curve back again to where we have already been,’ He said. ‘World War I was supposed to be the ‘War To End All Wars’ but it was not,’ She said. ‘I thought with the success of the Civil Rights Movement that prejudice would end…but it has not,’ He said. ‘Our church was full…now it is empty…just like the history books foretold,’ She said.

‘Stop awhile… let us be friends, Girl said as she waved and smiled. ‘Look…there is another Subaru,’ Girl said. ‘My God…they look just like us,’ She said!

The Beachball bounced languidly down the dark and foggy road.

Ice covers the landscape this morning. I ventured out yesterday morning and then discovered that it was slick underfoot. Currently, it is 19 degrees but it feels like 9. Reminiscent of the winters of my childhood. In our neck of the woods, our winter clothing varies from heavy coats, gloves, and neck scarves to light jackets and sweaters. The forecast is 50 degrees for Sunday. You can get a chill and a hot flash on the same day.

Frozen we are in today’s world. We consider saying a word of encouragement to our neighbor but we fear being misunderstood. Our houses become our fortresses. We have become a bit insular because of our inactivity in interaction. The wave we do at our neighbors if we are outgoing…but what are their names.

Porches were vital when I was a kid. Air conditioning was a rarity in poor homes and even in the middle class. Everyone sat outside on their front porches and ‘took some air’ each evening. We took turns porch visiting. It was a common occurrence for our neighbors to knock on our door and engage in a pop-in for an impromptu visit. We knew who was sick and who was well. We knew who was out of work or hurting financially. We knew who was hungry and needed a basket of garden produce or food staples to get them to the end of the month. People who were depressed said that they had the Blues. Some who were troubled emotionally said that they were Nervous.

Some of our neighbors were rescued by their regular fellowship with others. They may have had the Blues but the friendly faces and concern of their friends helped. There are no easy answers…but it helped.

Sunshine comes in many forms. We rejoice in the warm rays of the Sun…and we warm ourselves by the fireside of our friends.

‘I swear this continuing darkness gets on my nerves more than anything,’ He said. ‘I do not remember the last time that I saw the sun,’ She said. ‘It is always cold here…I am glad we brought our comforters,’ She said. ‘The iPhone flashlight helps out if you can find a place to charge the phone,’ He said. ‘I think that we must have taken a wrong turn back at the fork in the road…none of these shadows look familiar,’ She said. ‘The last sign I saw said Chicago 20 Miles…but we have driven for a long time and I still do not see the lights of the Windy City,’ He said. ‘I was born in Chicago…you know…at St. Mary’s Hospital in 1957,’ He said. ‘Your mom was lovely both on the outside as well as her soul,’ She said. ‘Mom grew up in Southern Illinois and her first job was in the Shoe Factory,’ He said. ‘When I was a small boy I was walking along our front porch in Sauk Village and I thought that at least we have a nice house this time,’ He said. ‘What does this time mean…you were 3 years old,’ She said.

‘The little girl reminds me of an old movie that I saw with Jane Fonda…it was a horror movie…the image of the little girl who was first bouncing a ball and then a head…stuck with me all of my life,’ He said. ‘I think the movie was French,’ He said. ‘What do you think that the girl with the head typified,’ She said. ‘I have always considered that she was the Devil,’ he said. ‘Why would we see her now…after all of the years that have passed,’ She said. ‘Maybe it is the end of time…Grandma A. often spoke of the Battle of Armageddon and the end of time and the Seven Last Plagues,’ He said. ‘I have always believed that we never see the Devil until he has overtaken us,’ She said. ‘The Bible says that he can appear as an angel of light,’ He said.

‘There is plenty of seats in the front…please come down and take a seat before we begin,’ Pastor said. ‘There will be refreshments and hot coffee and even some wine at the conclusion of the service, Pastor said. ‘Pastor when will the sun shine again,’ asked Patrick? ‘Well, that is a good question…I wish that I had the answer…this perpetual night is creating a lot of depressed people,’ Pastor said. ‘When will we let the pretty little girl in…it is cold outside and she has a big beach ball,’ Patrick said.

‘I simply love the beach…the sand and watching the ocean are soothing to my soul,’ Girl said.

MJ and I made it out to church this morning. MJ was all smiles as she was greeted warmly by Pastor Kerry and many of our fellow parishioners. The church is a booster shot for life. In our new normal of vaccinations and booster shots for Covid we are in dire need of our fellow travelers. I love music. I am a bit addicted to symphony music and jazz. Our new pianist is incredible. The piano has fascinated me since I was a child. For my career as superintendent of Building Services @ Southern Illinois University, I played Symphonic music in my office all day long. When I am listening to Mozart or Beethoven or Debussy I am transported to another place.

We are experiencing our share of potholes due to the winter weather. Life is full of pot-holes. We can be driving along life’s road with not a care in the world…and then the abrupt bump of a pothole takes us off guard. It is impossible to dodge and weave around them all. I reflected on the potholes of my life as I walked the streets of Eldorado yesterday. If it were not for the hope for tomorrow we might get a little discouraged. I thought of the beautiful testimony of the mother of the recently deceased Tyre Nichols. What a demonstrated hope in the face of unspeakable tragedy!

The Bible says that ‘Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.’ We are in a bit of a race with hurdles…and moats…and alligators…and more…

However…spring is coming and the sound of the turtledove will be heard in our land. The resilience of the human spirit is immeasurable. Knock us down and we are similar to the Bozo The Clown Punching Bag that I had in Chicago. I would hit him and he would go down…only to come back up with a large grin on his face. Illness plagues our human family…yet we love life. Reversals of fortune are routine on the rocky road we travel…and yet we seek a better day. When it is the night…we know that morning is coming.

Life is not a sprint it is a marathon. At times the horizon is crystal clear with unlimited visibility we walk forward with the confidence of the protected. Our heads held high and a spring in our step and a song in our hearts. Then the horizon becomes cloudy and a fog rolls in and we can not see what is ahead. Hope is life. We have felt the miracle. We have been a part of the mystery and the majesty. We know that God is unchanging and that he will keep us from falling off the road of life.

MJ and I were watching the PBS Series, Frankie Drake, and Frankie made a profound statement to Agatha Christie. She said how she loved Agatha’s books and how the murder case that they were both working on could never be as exciting as Ms. Christies stories. Agatha answered that was why she was a writer. There is a bit of truth to the Fictional Female Sleuth Franke Drake’s observation. I think that I have always seen life through the eyes of a writer. Today I traveled to Eldorado for at least the 20th time and I think it may be more like 25 over the past year. Each time that I am there I see the Eldorado of my childhood. I am no longer 65…but rather 5 to 15. When I look at the Orpheum Theatre I see the Marquee lit with the advertisement of the movie Frankenstein or Dracula or the Creature From the Black Lagoon. I see kids and kids at heart walking into the Movie Emporium with smiles on their faces and their eyes wide with wonder.

I see Uncle Bill at the top of the Old City Hall Steps smoking his ever-present cigarette. I see Aunt Guelda knocking on the door of the little red house that we rented from her on West Street. She had Sprite for our stomachs and some chicken soup as Neva J. and I were down with the Tomaine Poisoning that we swore we contracted from some bad fish from Shawnetown. Shawnetown was a booming place in Little Egypt at one time. ‘At the time of Illinois statehood (1818), Shaneetown and Kaskaskia, then the State Capital, were considered to be the two most important settlements in the state.’ Encyclopedia Britannica. By the 1960s it was known for its bars and its fresh catfish and its historic Bank.

Eldorado seemed big to me. We had a carnival every year…that Grandmas’s church referred to as a ‘Carn-Evil’ and one year I bashed my head on the Scrambler. The blood flowed…it often does from a head wound. Neva J.s’ friend Smoky who drove a cab for a living…drove us to the hospital. The Carnivale owner was so afraid of a lawsuit that he presented me with a humongous bear from the shooting gallery. It was the largest that they had…I felt vindicated.

Jim P. was forcibly removed from the Orpheum on Friday night. He had been drinking and was loud and ready to fight someone. He created quite an entertainment for the intermission of the regular movie. Later I became acquainted with his mom and sister and dad as we attended the same church. He was nicer in church.

Contentment is exciting. Following the beat of your own drummer and listening to your own muse is invigorating! As someone told me not long ago that I seemed to truly do my own thing…what a compliment!

The snow is melting as rapidly as it came. Tomorrow it is forecast to be 50 degrees. It is thus far an exciting winter. Mylo was seen by our Vet yesterday for a bump on his nose. We are thankful that it was benign. He is just starting in the world and has many more adventures. As I took copious snow photos at Giant City this morning I thought about the value of quiet. We of midwest stock value our serenity. I grew up in Eldorado and it was a quiet town. Then I lived in Elkville and it was even quieter. For the past 22 years, I have lived in Carbondale, which is somewhat more noisy and energetic…but I live in the country and it is quiet. Quiet allows time for reflection and thought about the sundry shades of life in the slow lane.

Life in Eldorado consisted of school and home and the Orpheum Theatre in the winter. During the summer we added swimming at Pounds Hollow. We swam a lot. The church was a big attraction for my extended family but mom and I watched mostly from a distance. We were a bit of the black sheep of the religious family. The minister of their church of choice often spoke until upwards of midnight during the Thursday night mid-week service. I attended on a few occasions and usually fell asleep prior to the conclusion of the message. It was a pentecostal church and if you know anything about the Pentecostals they often demonstrate their enthusiasm for their faith verbally and at times physically. I thought that it was fascinating simply on a spectator level. We took my friend Johnny U. with us on one of the few occasions that we attended and he got into the swing of things fairly quickly by calling out…’ Boo…and Yeigh,’ and I knew that he was enjoying himself. My Grandmother Askew had been a member of the little denomination since the days of its founding in the 1930s. Granma Askew took her faith seriously. My mom and her sisters loved their mom. We all went to her house every Monday night to visit together. It was at Grandmas’ that I learned that there was no Santa Claus. My aunts told me to my mother’s chagrin. I protested that I was certain that there was a Santa Claus because he had visited me at our home on West Street. My aunt Wanda grinned and said, ‘Why kiddo…that was Old Bob Winters dressed up like Santa. I protested that I was certain that there was an Easter Bunny and a Tooth Fairy…because she left me a quarter under my pillow every time that I lost a tooth…

I remember Shop Class. Working with wood has never been my talent. Mr. Hill assisted me in making a pen holder…and I have it to this day. However, I did enjoy Mechanical Drafting. I was good at it. I may have missed my calling…

My cousin Billy H. told me that he and I should visit the Grove Church. It was Pentecostal on steroids. Many of the congregation danced in the spirit and often fell onto the floor seemingly passed out in the spirit. One of the ministers played a mean Organ and the other had a lovely singing voice. It was considered a bit of a religious adventure to visit the Grove. It was rumored the ministers were Gay…and I could care less. My cousin was Gay and in the closet and he led a sad life due to the prejudice of the 60s.

Presbyterian has been my church for the past 25 years. The people intrigue me. I have never met harder-working people who put arms and legs to their faith. The clear and serious intention of my fellow congregants to demonstrate their faith through helping others is inspiring.

The Woods was quiet this morning. The Woodpecker; Pecked and Pecked. The snow melt water from the high hills flowed through the rocky creek. Life is not the hurry-up manic frenetic proposition that we have made it. It is calm and it is quiet and it is good. It needs a bit of reflection and consideration as to where it is going and the path to follow…