Neighbors once borrowed from each other. Everyone knew one another and spent many evenings on their front porches, visiting and swapping tales. You might not be familiar with the inside of their houses, but you had a lived experience with their front porch. The cool of the evening chat was welcome. Little was thought about what the neighbor’s house looked like on the inside. Coal mining towns had similar houses built by the Coal Company for the workers. A kitchen, living room, bedroom or two, and if lucky, a little restroom. The roofs were all alike. Built side by side, you could smell what was for dinner next door. You could also hear conversations not meant for your ears without trying. Life was shared outside; inside were secrets.

‘Go next door and borrow a cup of sugar,’ Neva J said to Billy B. ‘Here is the cup,’ Neva J noted with a smile. ‘Wait on the porch while Matilda gets the sugar,’ Neva J noted.

‘Come in, Billy B. I don’t think you have been inside before,’ Matilda said. ‘Do you like to play pool? There is a pool table downstairs in the basement,’ Matilda said, grinning. ‘Herbert is down there now playing; I hear the balls cracking,’ Matilda said, laughing.

‘I did not know Matilda and Herb had a basement,’ Billy B thought. ‘These appear to be the stairs to the basement; I hear the pool balls striking each other,’ Billy B mused as he climbed down the steps.

‘Welcome, Billy B. Come on down. I bet you did not realize our house was so big it appears very small from the outside,’ Herb winked. ‘In fact, the inside dimensions are different than the outside dimensions,’ Herb smiled. ‘A neat architectural trick,’ Herb laughed. ‘I got lost in here for a month once; now I trail twine to find my way back to Matilda,’ Herb said softly. ‘The Snider family, who owned your family’s house before you came, lost their son here; we looked and looked but never found him. Sometimes I think I hear him crying,’ Herb said with a gleam in his eye. ‘So I hear you are a pool player as good as Minnesota Fats in his heyday,’ Herb said. ‘Fats played here many times; I think he is still here…somewhere,’ Herb mused. ‘Before you go, Matilda will take you to the third floor so you can admire all you can see of our little village,’ Herb said.

‘Hi, Neva. Billy B is downstairs with Herb playing pool. Would you like to go to the third floor with me and see the view of our village?’ Matilda asked. ‘Take this twine with you so we can find our way back,’ Matilda said, laughing.

There is joy in the journey. The Old Man admired the changing leaves this morning. What a gift life is. The experience of being and a sense of place is special. Poems do not describe the beauty. Words fall short. It is a shame to go through life with the Gift and not realize the treasure. September is a week old. The holidays are coming. Life begins anew in the fall. The crispness of the air, the lightness of being, time to reflect and renew. We live in our heads, but our eyes look out onto our surroundings. Wisdom waits for us.

Others watch. Noise is not progress. Euphoria may lead to unwise decisions. The leaves crackled under the Old Man’s feet. Yesterday they were green; tomorrow they will be snow-covered. Today we are here. The animals played while the Old Man watched. They understand much more than we know.

‘I am excited about our picnic,’ Chet said. ‘We will have the Deer family join us Salameats and Oscar Mayer Wieners for lunch,’ Chet said, laughing. ‘There is much that is right with the world,’ Chet noted. ‘September Picnic is one of those things,’ Chet winked. ‘We shall invite our friends and make friends with those who are not,’ Chet continued. ‘There is room for all in the woods,’ Chet proclaimed! ‘We must invite Mr. Badger and Mr. Mole and Ratty and Mr. Toad to the festivities,’ Chet danced on one foot and then the other.

‘I say, there, old chap, have you seen my spectacles?’ Mole asked Badger. ‘I seem to lose them more than I find them,’ Mr. Mole laughed despite himself. ‘I have been cleaning all morning and lost them when I lost my feather duster,’ Mole squinted. ‘Oh, how I love the fall,’ Mole said with gusto as his spectacles fell back on his nose from their resting place on his head. ‘We must ask the weasels to eat with us; they are a secretive group,’ Mole noted. ‘They have been looking into opening a dialogue with Badger, Toad, Ratty and I how to make the Woods better,’ Mole grinned broadly with his spectacles firmly in place.

Feeling good. Or, as Kramer said in a Seinfeld episode, ‘Here’s to feeling good all the time.’ We humans are euphoria seekers. ‘A mood of contentment and well-being.’ ‘A state of great happiness, well-being, and excitement.’

Euphoria is sought in many ways. People look to drugs for a sense of well-being. There are biological weapons that have a euphoric component to them, which causes the victim to socialize after being infected. Deindividuation: ‘A psychological state where a person loses their self-awareness and individual identity in a group, aligning completely with the group’s collective behavior and mood.’ This happened in Nazi Germany.

‘Come and visit our church; we will treat you like family,’ Catherine Cult said with a winning smile. ‘We are the set apart, the chosen, the Ones God loves,’ CC continued. ‘Do you want to be part of something greater than you? We will tell you how to live, how to spend your money, who to love and who to hate,’ Catherine Cult said with passion. ‘Soon you will not have to think; just obey; we will show you the way,’ CC laughed. ‘Our music will transport you to heaven on earth. We sing choruses over and over until they get into our hearts, often over an hour in our church service,’ CC noted. ‘You will forget your worries when you immerse yourself in the spirit flowing,’ CC promised. ‘We will get to know you totally; you will have no secrets from your brothers and sisters; we are one,’ Catherine Cult danced. ‘You will feel ecstasy, well-being, and purpose in our church,’ CC said with tears in her eyes. ‘We are different; Jesus was different. We are in the world but not of the world, set apart and special among humanity,’ CC whispered.

‘Trust me,’ He said. ‘I know what you need better than anyone,’ He continued. ‘Affordability is fake; I alone decide what is real,’ He continued. ‘At night I have visions, dreams, premonitions; I consult myself,’ He laughed. ‘My followers and I are special on Earth,’ He proclaimed. ‘Do not believe your eyes or your ears; believe me alone; I will tell you the truth,’ He promised. ‘I am a bit like Jesus, King David, and Superman,’ He laughed with delight.

This is the day we have been waiting for. We gather at the sound of the silent whistle. Listening for what the noisy do not hear. We look for becoming. There is a Secret we want to learn. Our fathers and mothers told us of the Secret. We are a part of the Secret yet do not understand its dimensions. The Secret is behind the clouds. Not how to live, but why. Our purpose is greater than our parts. Our role is dynamic. There is a coming together. Days of Peace, a Peacable Kingdom, are just beyond the horizon.

‘Well, today is the day; tomorrow may be too late,’ Billy B said. ‘Sunday, today we will extol the grandeur of summer and visit the State Fair,’ Billy B continued. ‘There is a solemnity after the fire,’ Billy B observed. ‘It is not the same, but we soldier on,’ Billy B remarked. ‘The Clouds are strange today; they portend change,’ Billy B explained. ‘I heard a Voice from the majestic clouds today saying, ‘You are not forgotten.’

‘The Clouds looked strange wonderful when was a teenager during World War II,’ Neva J said. ‘None of us knew what tomorrow would bring first the Great Depression then Pearl Harbor,’ Neva J mused. ‘We looked to the sky just like our ancestors for answers,’ Neva J noted. ‘Many feared the end of the world was soon to be,’ Neva J said softly. ‘Grandma A was watching the Clouds one day when a voice said, ‘Not Yet.’

‘So we wait watch ponder the truth in our hearts,’ Jane said. ‘The Secret will be revealed it is close enough to touch,’ Jane laughed. ‘The Mystery will be sovled or perhaps the Mystery is contained in a larger Mystery,’ Jane danced. ‘Who brought us here and when will they pick us up,’ Jane giggled.

Something is happening near Brooks Pond. The clouds have an ethereal glow. An owl hoots. Mylo barks. Change is coming. September will soon be a week old, yet it’s 100 degrees. Could we be in Dante’s Inferno? Too hot for man or beast. No hot apple cider; too hot. No campfires swapping ghost stories; too hot. The cloud is watching.

The Old Ones speak of such a Cloud in their day. It hovered between earth and sky. Many feared the Cloud, while others believed it spoke of future events. ‘I saw angels in the Cloud,’ Ethel said. ‘They were looking right at me. I decided to do better, be better,’ Ethel continued. ‘The Cloud was in the sky at night with a light of candles in the middle of it that radiated,’ Ethel noted. ‘The night had a spectral glow from the Cloud with the mysterious light in it,’ Ethel whispered.

As the President spoke in the Rose Garden, the Cloud appeared behind him. Many in the audience became distracted as the light from the inner glow was like nothing they had ever seen. The President spoke of revenge on his enemies, getting even by inflicting more pain on them than they had inflicted on him. The Cloud grew increasingly dark. Lightning lit up the sky. The outdoor event ended.

A Voice came from the Majestic Cloud that spoke one word, Peace.’ The fighting stopped. The President bowed his head and sat down.

Everything was normal. Halloween was coming. First midterm elections. The hallmark of democracy. Let the people decide the rule of the people. It has been thus since our founding. You may not agree with the winner, but he or she played by the rules; acceptance was the rule. All adults get a vote. It took a long time for everyone to have a vote. Elections are a good thing. People watch with respect as power transfers peacefully. If we do not like the policies of our politicans we vote. A beautiful thing. No fear or favor democracy. Politicans campaign, tell us their plan; we decide if we want it. Then the hunger crept in. Quiet at first. Invisible at first. Imperceptible at first.

Money is power. The people had no money. Their elected leader spoke for them. ‘A chicken in every pot and a car in every garage,’ Hoover told us. The Depression came. People were hungry. People were sad. The President’s words were hollow. Business learned they could purchase influence. The elite learned they could have things their way. Lobbyists discovered many politicians had little money; they wanted more. The Hunger lurked in the shadows.

‘I must take care of my constituency,’ Mr. Politician said. ‘They are the ones who put me in office; I must heed their call,’ Mr. P said. ‘The Man in the Shadows does have some good ideas; it would not hurt to try some. I will think about it on my holiday to Bermuda,’ Mr. P mused. ‘My wife and kids deserve a good vacation; they suffer so that I can hold my high office,’ Mr. P laughed. ‘I need to move to the good gated community to ensure that I can reach the big donors. ‘ If you have no money, you have no power,’ Mr. P danced on one leg and then the other.

‘Religion mixed with politics is the answer, the TV Preacher extolled. ‘We must turn our government into a theocrachy,’ TP continued. ‘When our people are the decision makers christianity will be paramount and evil doers will shudder for their sins,’ TP laughed. ‘The saints of God have money a lot of money we will put it to good use electing those who believe like we do, ‘To all our friends we wish them well and all the rest can go to hell,’ TP said as he rocked and rolled on stage.

‘Trick or Treat the familiar looking Ghost said,’ the Old Man recounted. ‘I have been on Holiday but I am back,’ Familiar Ghost said. ‘I am the Familiar Ghost of Christmas Present,’ Familiar Ghost continued. ‘I have weilded much power and yet do from my hiding place,’ FG laughed. ‘My words hurt the Republic some say while others call me a Hero of the Cause,’ FG blinked.

‘This is it; this is the big one,’ Chet announced. ‘Four days left to swim at Pounds Hollow,’ Chet continued. ‘Labor Day is Monday,’ Chet observed. ‘Where did the summer go? It began yesterday and ends soon,’ Chet noted. ‘We must have an End of Summer Swim at PH,’ Chet proclaimed! ‘Perhaps we will see the whole town there for this event,’ Chet observed.

Well, I will bring Salameats along with the Oscar Mayer Wieners and Merlot,’ Neva J said. ‘Salameats have a hidden recipe that no one knows except the makers of the sausage,’ Neva J winked and grinned. ‘They are an experience like none you have ever had…Salameats are where the culinary mysteries are,’ Neva J laughed. ‘Once you try one, you will settle for nothing else,’ Neva J danced.

‘Mrs K said Look for a surprise at the lake. ‘ There’s a big dark hole near the beach that people are entering and not returning from,’ Jane said. ‘Some say it is a Wormhole,’ Jane said cautiously. ‘Billy B entered the Wormhole as a kid, and now he is a man running Billy B’s Emporium of the Unusual,’ Jane noted with a strange look in her eyes. ‘Billy B says he went in the Wormhole in 1963 and came out in 2026. When I explained to him that he would be nearly 70 years old if that had happened, he said he knew,’ Jane explained. ‘He looks his age,’ Jane mused.

‘I have never seen anything like that hole in the air near the beach,’ Neva J confirmed. ‘Pounds Hollow Beach is empty, as everyone has entered to explore where they will end up,’ Neva J continued. ‘Let us follow them into the vortex and see what happens,’ Neva J encouraged.

‘Remember when we entered the strange Wormhole on Pounds Hollow Beach in 1963,’ Chet asked. ‘What happened between 1963 and 2026? I have no memory of the time passed,’ Chet mused. ‘We were young, and now we are old,’ Chet observed. ‘And when did we pick up our little friend Zog?’ Chet laughed.

Dolly Parton’s final message was, My little butterfly wings are getting tired.’ When I read this, I wondered if she had long to live. We have wings to soar if we like. The decision is ours. When our wings are strong and vigorous, we ask what to do with them. We take them off and place them in a safe place to protect such a valuable asset. ‘I may need my wings one day,’ the Careful Man said. ‘Someone may want to borrow my wings and forget to return them,’ the Careful Man continued. ‘What will people think if they see me flying about with my pristine wings? They will be envious, jealous, afraid,’ the Careful Man concluded. ‘People will be asking to see my wings touch them, try them on,’ CM noted. ‘What if the government decides to tax wings?’ CM asked.

The Crows were talking in the Woods this morning. When the Old Man walked close, they chatted like magpies. ‘Well, there is the Old Man again,’ Claude Crow said. ‘He never seems to snap enough photos,’ Claude continued. ‘You will know him by the hats he wears,’ CC laughed. ‘He is a bit of a peculiar chap,’ CC observed. ‘He listens to Audible.com,’ Claude offered. ‘I would like a subscription to Audible.com for Christmas; it is a quiet time of year, and I want a hat like the Old Man,’ Claude Crow exclaimed. ‘I want a leather Outback Hat like OM wears in the winter months,’ CC said with satisfaction. ‘Then I will walk with him in the woods, and we will discuss world affairs,’ CC noted with a big smile.

So we are together again. There is much to do. What talents we have hidden in the closet or on the Earth are needed to help each other. In the tradition of a good horror flick, the monster is in the house. While we peer out our windows for danger, our enemy is behind us. We now pick fights with our best friends, neighbors, those who care about our welfare. We look for The Other rather than take responsibility for our mistakes. A childish, sophomoric name for those we want to demean. When a logical question is posed, the leader lashes out for vengeance, a pound of flesh to prove the point that the leader can do no wrong.

The days of Halloween monsters are here. Frankenstein will smoke a cigar with the blind man and smile, saying, Cigars are good.’ The Creature from the Black Lagoon will seek solace and understanding. Ichabod Crane will run from the Headless Horseman. We will sit by the campfire in the fall chill. S’mores, hot chocolate, and ghost stories.

‘Have you seen my wings, honey?’ I know I put them in the closet somewhere, McGee said as he slowly opened the closet door.

The Old Man woke up on September Morn. He waited for this experience all year. He likes it all, but he loves the BER Months. No hint of fall yet. Ninety-eight degrees. Heat Dome. He did not request a Dome of any kind. A butterfly was his friend in the Woods this morning. The butterfly would not leave. B. Fly knew the Old Man liked his company.

Leaves were falling on this first of September. The Woods understands what time it is. The baby turkeys have grown. They are excited to be in the world. The Song of the Fall is beginning. It is a pleasant song that hearkens back to precious memories. The Bible says that all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

Why do we choose to believe lies when we are surrounded by truth? Joy, peace, hope, and love are our companions if our eyes are not diverted by gold, greed, and bias. We humans, tend to create our own reality a bit with brick and mortar and golden statues. Cities where the skyscrapers reach to Heaven and block the sky.

‘Why worry about tomorrow?’ Guardian Angel said. ‘You have clothes, food, and a place to lay your head,’ Guardian Angel continued. ‘ Did you help to raise the Sun this morning?’ Guardian Angel noted. ‘Mr. Butterfly worries not yet is cared for,’ Guardian Angel winked. ‘Humanity wants what it does not possess and when gained is still disappointed,’ Guardian Angel laughed. ‘Whatever your name is affixed to is not yours; vanity and vexation of spirit,’ Guardian Angel said.

We are happy dust. A spirit inside a clay jar. We know better; we have been better; our real home is better; we remember and weep for our childish ways. How does a man begin as a baby, grow and become a baby again?

The door to happiness, fulfillment, and a sense of place we walk through each morning. We rise from our bed with our magnificent reconstituted body of Dust to meet the day. The mystery is what can be done with Spirit and Dust!

Dreaming of fall. August has reached its last day. It is 95 degrees. A few leaves are changing. Cool weather is coming. Fall colors will brighten our spirits. Cool breezes will quicken our steps. When September comes, we know we must get about our business. The Holidays are here. It is time for fall decorations, Halloween decorations, Thanksgiving decorations, and Christmas Decorations. There are so many decorations with the BER Months that January seems blase. This year the scary stories will be scarier. This year we will be truly thankful. This year we will have the ‘hap hap happiest Christmas since Christmas since Bing Crosby danced with Danny F—–g Kaye.’

The Quiet are watching. Are we the home of the tempest tost? As we wassail and dance, can the children called Want and Ignorance look out from beneath the coat of the Ghost of Christmas Present and see us in our revelry?

‘It is a hot beginning for September,’ the Old Man mused with Mr. Badger and Mr. Mole on his walk in the woods. ‘It does not seem like fall is almost here,’ the Old Man said. ‘We must have a celebration on the river with all of our friends,’ the Old Man said joyfully.

‘We shall invite Trump, who is friends with the Weasels, to our party,’ Badger said. ‘The Weasels are a tricky bunch, but they do enjoy an autumn party on the river,’ Badger continued. ‘It is said the President is a teetotaller, but I know for a fact he enjoys a bit of hot apple cider,’ Mr. Badger winked.

So darkness is almost here. The long days yield to September. The Bullfrog Quartet is about to begin their nightly performance. They have been practicing; they are in good voice. They delight in the coming of fall. This year they are booked for a fall tour of Europe. The Frog Quartet is loved in the United Kingdom at Christmas.