“I not only use all the brains I have but all that I can borrow.” Woodrow Wilson “We grow great by dreams.” W. Wilson

“I have never been hurt by anything I didn’t say.” Calvin Coolidge

“Blessed are the young, for they will inherit the national debt.” Herbert Hoover

“When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” Ronald Regan

“Men make history, and not the other way around.” Harry Truman

“A pessimistic general never won a battle.” Dwight Eisenhower

“If a problem can not be solved, enlarge it.” Dwight Eisenhower

“You know nothing for sure…except the fact that you know nothing for sure.” John Kennedy

“I'd rather give my life than be afraid to give it.” Lyndon Johnson “you ain’t learnin’ nothin’ when you’re talkin’” Lyndon Johnson

“The truth is that all men having power ought to be mistrusted.” James Madison

“A little flattery will support a man through great fatigue.” James Madison

“It is easier to do a job right that to explain why you didn’t.” Martin Van Buren

“And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count, it’s the life in your years.” Abraham Lincoin

“Die when I may, I wanted it said of me that I plucked a weed and I planted a flower wherever I thought a flower would grow.” Abraham Lincoln

—-.

“If I had eight hours to chop down a tree, I’d spend six sharpening my axe.” Abraham Lincoln

“oN “The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.”

James Garfield “Good ballplayers make good citizens.” Chester A. Arthur “Speak softy and carry a big stick.” | Theodore Roosevelt

“There has never been a man in our history who led a life of ease whose name is worth remembering.” T. Roosevelt

“,..it is better to be alone than in bad company.” George Washington

“To err is natural; to rectify error is g lory. ” George Washington

“Our minds are like old horses; you must exercise them if you wish to keep them in working order.” John Adams

“Grief drives men to serious reflection, sharpens understanding and softens the heart. John Adams

“Delay is preferable to error.” Thomas Jefferson “I like dreams of the future better than the history of the past.” Thomas Jefferson

“In matters of style swim with the current; in matters of principal, stand like a rock.” Thomas Jefferson

“One man with courage is a majority.” Thomas Jefferson YY

“The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do.” Thomas Jefferson

“Screw luck” a. J

“Don’t tell me my odds” Hans Solo

I have many memories, some of them good, some of them not so good." Richard Nixon – July 1960 “I know what you mean jelly bean."

“The General doesn't know any more about politics

Than a pig knows about Sunday." Harry Truman – 1953 Directed to Ike regarding the reduction of military might. “Hey, Harry, what about Friday?”

“It's not the Pope who worries me, it's the pop." Harry Truman – 1960 JFK's Daddy, Joe."

“If you vote for Nixon, you ought to go to hell." Harry Truman – 1960

Random.

I'm trying to write, but it's not a smooth flow. Herky-Jerky; in-and-out focus. It's Unusual. It's also silence.

I've disappointed several people recently. Unintentionally, but irreparable. What I think and how I act doesn't seem to matter. I'm Spinning without direction.

I'm not going to Live This way. I'll find a grip, a hold, a word that will Lift me. I'll wait for it, NOT beacon it.

The deep grey '98 Lincoln intrigues me. It Looks smooth, big, and strong. a Device, echo Dot, will soon be my Companion. Music will flow, it will make me Laugh and smile. Thank you. [margin: "It impressed a Couple of Reps at AT&T Store"] I'll pack my things, Jetson Unlimited and add metal. I'll not speak out for a spell — until the hurt Leaves me. I'll read old books again. RETURN borrowed things. I Can Change. Be Kinder. Contribute —

When my health returns. Soon I hope.

I Saved my B[usey] Cards MOST.

Thanks for the awesome Echo DoT — my New best friend. The Check is for a Change [/Curt who?]. or every

Love,

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REMINDERS: CHANGE BRITTA FILTER ONCE A MONTH THROW OUT EXPIRED FOOD WIPE DOWN FRIDGE SHELVES Drink Plenty of Water DON’T LET DISHES PILE UP. WALGREENS PHARMACY: 618-466-8179

rotted place and installed a board to provide some strength.

Today I finished updating my great little two person rocker on the porch, and using the jet stream of my garden hose, washed down the porch.

On the west edge of the porch is a small round glass occasional table and four outside chairs that’s just right for coffee or a cocktail with a friend or two.

I bought stick on vinyl 12” by 12” pieces for the kitchen counter. They will be easier to clean and not chip or peel. I may also buy vinyl planks for my kitchen. Why not.

Today, 8/13/2-22

Had biscuits and gravy and senior coffee with cream at MCDonald’s. Calories 35@ and 4@. I had a Boost protein drink earlier – 24@ calories. I had 1/2 of a meal from Freshly – 29@ calories. Also tomato, cucumber, onion salad with vinegar and oil. – 100 calories (Ce). My doctor gave me a plan of sorts and one of the Suggestions was to eat six meals a day. two hours apart.

Anthony, my Ghana friend, and I took a tour in Alton, starting with the Lincoln and Douglas Square where they debated slavery and he crumbling old wall of the Confederate cemetery.

rotted place and installed a board to provide some strength. Today I finished updating my great little two person rocker on the porch, and using the jet stream of my garden hose, washed down the porch. On the west edge of the porch is a small round glass occasional table and four outside chairs that’s just right for coffee or a cocktail with a friend or two. I bought stick on vinyl 12” by 12” pieces for the kitchen counter. They will be easier to clean and not chip or peel. I may also buy vinyl planks for my kitchen. Why not. Today, 8/13/2-22 Had biscuits and gravy and senior coffee with cream at MCDonald’s. Calories 350 and 40. I had a Boost protein drink earlier – 240 calories. I had 1/2 of a meal from Freshly – 290 calories. Also tomato,cucumber, onion salad with vinegar and oil. – 100 calories (e). My doctor gave me a plan of sorts and one of the suggestions was to eat six meals a day. two hours apart. Anthony, my Ghana friend, and I took a tour in Alton, starting with the Lincoln and Douglas Square where they debated slavery and he crumbling old wall of the Confederate cemetery.

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She was not just a beautiful woman; she was extraordinarily beautiful: petite yet full-figured, with an exquisite little face, brilliant luminous eyes, and soft, medium-brown hair. That she liked herself was obvious. She had reason.

Ria liked men. Stray men; married or single. They did not have to be the macho type; rather they were soft spoken, mannerly, clean- and well dressed. Most were men who appeared to be dominated by women. She would be the domineering partner in a relationship. Her control was subtle. Give her an inch, OK more, and she would be their ruler.

Her husband began fucking outside of their marriage after her open second affair. She had quit fucking him in the summer of 99. He no longer appealed to her sexually. He was bland. He was the old style male fucker. Straight sex, a simple fuck. No words, no love, no experiments, just getting his rocks off quick was his deal. She had long ago faked organisms. She imagined her real lovers and would quickly decide to see them to bring back her feelings of good sex.

The barmaid Jack was fucking was not bad looking. She was a little younger than he was. She was from a poor background and had three children, all younger than ten, He met her at the country club where he was a fanatic golfer.

Jack was shy. He did not have a regular game, preferring to play a pick up game with anyone around. He did not bet, so the game was never competitive, just hit the ball and maybe a mulligan whenever the ball was poorly struck. He really preferred to play alone. That way he could hit as many mulligans as he wanted and score as well as he thought he should. He was a much better scoring golfer than he actually was.

When his game was over, Jack would stay at the bar while the barmaid finished her shift. She was generally the closing barmaid, so he stuck around until then. Everyone knew he was sweet on her, but said nothing. He was married everyone knew, but they also knew his wife was probably out with her guy too. Didn’t he have a right to have an affair, after all, his wife was.

At first, Jack felt sorry that the barmaid had to work so hard for her meager money and it was never enough to provide for her needy family. It was common for him to buy her things, including groceries for her family, gas for her automobile, and gifts that made her feel that she was important. It was an innocent start and she liked it. Their affection grew and led to a full-blown affair. He began to dress better, and hang out later. Out of town visits, company dinners, and business meetings increased. They were fucking and they liked it.

When Ria found out about the affair it made her angry. She began keeping tabs, looking through his things, making mental notes, checking phone bills, credit card bills, and checking mileage on his truck She became aware of his increased spending and his need for cash. He did not press her for any explanation of what she was doing, and it bothered her. She could have an affair, but she didn’t like his escapades. His. woman was her mystery. She doubted if she would recognize her.

When Jack bought his woman an expensive ring for Christmas, Ria came unglued. The jewelry store had sent the bill to the home address and Ria knew he had not given her any jewelry gift. When she checked on the purchase, she found it was a mother’s ring. The gemstones of Diana’s children were on the ring. It was months after Christmas when Ria asked about the ring and he said he bought it because Diana had never received anything from anyone that recognized her as a good mother. The father of her kids did not even pay child support, and of course, the children couldn’t buy their mother anything. He said he felt sorry for her and bought her the ring. The git e received from Jack were wife like stuff and without imagination. An outside fireplace is not romantic. Nor is a George Forman Grill. Ria got a second fireplace from her mother, Emily.

The credit card bills came through the mail and Ria went home to intercept them before they were conveniently absent. The dinners, the wine (Jack was a beer drinker, and would get sick on the hard stuff) and the restaurants were dead giveaways that something more than friendship was going on. It seemed he

was not being discreet. Perhaps it was intentional that he was carelessly leaving a trail for his wife. Neither he nor Ria ever brought it up.

The cell phone bill went up. The ATM advances were more frequent. That was true for both of them. However, her lovers usually footed the cost of trips, dinners, and expenses of the affair.

When Jack landed Diana a job with his employer, Ria, fumed even more. Now the other woman would be earning more than Ria and with better benefits, job security, and would also work close to her husband. Jack had never tried to get their son, Jake, on at work because he said he did not think Jake would pass the drug test. Their son was a good person and had managed to land a decent job with a good, but less paying employer. Soon after starting his job, Jake moved out of the family house and into an apartment with his. own young woman.

One Sunday night Ria bagged up Jack’s stuff and when he came home from an out of town golf trip she said he could no longer live in the house with her. She had arranged for him to rent an apartment and it was ready for him to move into. It was furnished somewhat. He moved out. He took the office microwave oven and the staff did not miss it for several weeks. There would no longer be any popcorn, no instant coffee, and no re-heated food again.

They did not tell their grown son that mom and pop no longer lived under one roof. They did not tell their parents and other members of their family either. They had Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas dinner, and birthday dinners together. They went to the funeral home together — sometimes. When Ria’s best friend heard that they had separated, her friend gave her a package of condoms. Ria was at a business meeting out of town.

Jack continued to come to the office every weekend whenever he was in town. He did the books, paid bills, and sometimes worked on the computer if there was a problem. He was pleasant and appeared interested in the staff and their work.

Ria was increasingly less interested in her work. She came to work late and said she had been working at home. She was generally unavailable when any one tried to call her and calls were answered by her answering machine. Caller ID was her key on who could reach her.

Her staff noticed her absence, but said nothing. She was, after all, the boss and could do what ever she liked. Her husband would call and ask for her often, but not ask where she was. She never called him.

Jack was average. He looked average, about 59”, 170 pounds, almost 40, slightly receding hair, large sharp nose, and a ruddy complexion. He laughed at jokes, but did not tell them in a group. He poked fun at others and never told a dirty story on himself. His humor was chauvinistic and crude. A guy thing.

It was his only macho characteristic. He didn’t hunt, fish, ride motorcycles, read, do art, movies, or engage in discussions about feelings or life. He was steady though and seldom missed work. He was working for retirement and knew to the day when that would be — 10 years plus a few months and days. Then, he would start living. Meanwhile, he would be a provider and live up to his responsibility as a husband and father from whatever distance he must.

Ria was a child bride and mother. Before high school ended their son was born. She stayed at home with him, did her lessons, cooked meals, washed clothes and kept the house neat. They smoked a bit of pot with friends and socialized with like kind.

Don was in love with Ria before they even went out. She didn’t mind and encouraged him whenever she could. He worked in the same office so it was easy for them to start their relationship. There was always a meeting, a class, and a convention that was business related. She went and he went and they went their way. It lasted a long time — five years or more. ILis still a relationship, but now at a distance. He moved on, married, but not before he had told Jack that he was in love with her and that they had had an affair. Ria was sorry. She cried. Her husband understood. Kept quiet and never talked about it. It didn’t happen in his eyes and his child bride was still his wife. She was beautiful and his center of the universe.

Ria would meet James and Steve at regular intervals and alwa’

knew her schedules and would make arrangements to see her when she was out of town. Neither James or Steve had met Jack and didn’t want to. Of course, these men were just friends and fun to be around. You could tell that by how they danced with her with their hands on her ass and their eyes on her tits.

she was alone. They were married, but

There were others. Al, Brent, and Ron. All friends. They had their schedules and she knew where they would be.

Ria sold him a nice investment package. Art was about 70, had just met Ria and thought she was incredible. He wanted her to have some of his money and knew her commission on the sale was helpful to her new business. Perhaps she would favor him with visits. She did. He bought. Later and at intervals, Ria and Jack bought two cars from Art, both luxury models that Art’s wife, Martha of 45 years, had chosen. They had some miles on them and he could let them go for well below book value to help her out. The old gentleman would fly in for dinner and a visit to see Ria. It was OK for her and Jack, who said Ria and Art had a special relationship, and after all he was a cow to their business and personal auto needs. Art never woke up, not even when the investment went sour. Sure, he would lose thousands of dollars, but what the heck. When Martha died, Art bought a nice new SUV, quickly married again and built a nice new home that fit his wants and needs. His other investment was foreclosed.

Jordan was different that her other lovers. He was strong willed and confident. Educated in the world around him, savvy about what really went on. She was unsure about Jordan. Control may be more difficult. She liked him though. He was witty, bright, and tough. He would be good for her business and she needed a boost in her business.

He fell harder than the rest. He did not understand the rules. He was a dreamer and his imagination was unending. He imagined that he was receiving as much as he was giving. Their affair was torrid. Hot steamy sex every time. They fucked in the back seat of her luxury cars and in his modest sedan. She fucked him in a closet, on a coffee table, a picnic table, in the woods, in the field, in every room of his house and in her bedroom. Sometimes she would fuck him with her socks on, sometimes standing up, and in the tub, shower, or in a chair. He would shampoo her hair, shave her legs and eat fruit of off her body. She would dress up, tease, and the fury would erupt. They went out of town and took trips, but lonely roads, parking lots, lake shores, apartments, and motels were also dins of sin. But things would change.

Ria thought about a divorce and even went to see the attorney for women. She took cash, but the attorney waived it and scheduled a discovery meeting that never occurred. Then the attorney sent her a bill to her home address — intentionally. Jack saw it and said nothing. Later he said he paid the bill and they had discussed it. A lie. The attorney asked about affairs. No answers.

Jack continued to be absent, and of course Ria was too. He took golf trips with the guys, visited the titty bars and drowned his thoughts in beer. Sometimes he took Diana. She took business trips for important matters, but never registered for classes or attended meetings or brought a business idea back to her business. Sometimes Jordan went with her.

Although Ria thought about a divorce, she thought about being single more. Why be committed to any one? Commitment might be restrictive, confining and control may be lost. What's wrong with a live apart marriage? Jack’s ego would be protected and it would avoid the messy part of splitting up and letting the lawyers get their hands on their assets. Besides his steady income helped in the business in slow times and Ria hated the bookkeeping duties. She didn’t even like to work.

Paul may not have the looks, but he was attentive, had money and wanted a woman — any woman. Paul's only wife, he married late, had used him to climb the social ladder and she had finally snared a doctor from the city. Paul got to keep the kids, she didn’t mind that, but Paul had to pay for them. Neither Paul nor Leta, his ex, were model parents. They had lived a lavish life in a posh house, but without friends. Paul or Leta had not managed to build up any personal ties with anyone or the community. They were almost invisible. She managed her affair from the gaudy home and he kept busy with his several businesses.

Their divorce was unnoticed. Leta was beautiful, young, and exciting. Paul was not. Paul was a loner and hired a nanny for the boys.

Paul spent some of his time buzzing around lady spiders. Rumors of splits or divorces surfaced in his circle and he investigated promising webs. He ran a motel and it was not hard to know who/what/when if not how of some of the renters. He only wanted to get an arm or a leg stuck in the web and not his whole body. Some of the poor damsels had to find a room for the night and they were broke too. Paul was only too happy to help them out some. He was a smart, if not a Good Samaritan.

Being a Samaritan had led him to help poor little Leta and her mom find a haven when their old car broke down on the interstate. They thanked him profusely for taking care of them that night and for the three free nights stay at his motel. He let them stay a week at his house until the car was fixed and he paid for the repairs. She helped at night. Leta and her mom knew that Paul had money, at least much than they were likely to run into, Leta kept in touch with Paul after they went home to South Carolina and paid him a visit or two. She was a real southern belle and was she cute. Her honey voice and alluring eyes helped when she picked the apple from the tree and asked Paul to eat it. He did. They got married, had two boys, and she ran away with a richer and more exciting man. It wasn’t a bad trade for Leta. Her mom approved.

Paul and Cindi, now that was a pair. She was tall, blonde, full-figured and married. She had a bad marriage, she said. Paul was introduced to Paul by a friend of Cindi’s because she was looking for work. Paul hired her on the spot. He made her a partner in one of his businesses he had just started and paid her a handsome salary. She found a house that she liked, Paul bought it and she moved in. Her husband moved in with her a few months later. Paul never fixed the roof or did any repairs on the house.

Paul has a long skeletal face, bulging eyes, Bugs Bunny teeth, narrow neck, large, no lobe ears, coarse black/gray hair growing from front to back and his bony wrists were connected to slim bony fingers. Cloak him. Shine a bright light in his face and he will shrink back. His gait is an amble; his feet barely clear the ground. He needs a nanny for his spoiled kids. Ria guessed the missionary position was his one and only.

Jordan asked Ria if she was fucking Paul. A question Jack would never ask. Ria snapped back, her face reddened, “yes, and I'll fuck him on my desk and you can watch us.” Things with Jordan and Ria were never the same after that.

Ria is a Gemini and on the Cusp. Gemini — Amazing adaptability to situations; outgoing, witty and young at heart; loves talking and improvising: tends to know a little about a lot; looks for lively intellectual relationships; tend to flit from one lover to another; dual contradictory nature can make them misunderstood; their focus tends to shift constantly; want most to be loved; outrageous flirts in order to prove how attractive they are.

Her clothes are tight, ridiculously so. Business attire is a long skirt with a long slit requiring no imagination. Whenever she wasn’t wearing that, black stretch slacks that did not reveal a panty line, a small tee shirt with a low-neck line was under an open waist jacket. She wore black patent leather, block toe shoes or boots with 2+ inch heels. Her jeans, when she wore them, had useless pockets. Loose is not how you would describe her clothes.

Her face was beginning to show lines and her make -up hid small flaws. Her years at the indoor tanning parlors were beginning to have an affect on aging her skin. She knew she was spreading through her hips and her slacks were thigh tighter. She noticed every new gray hair. She looked at her mother and wondered if she would look like her in the future. Yet, she was still young looking and striking. If she had had a daughter rather than a son, they would have both been on the cover of Seventeen. Probably in the same designer off the rack clothes she liked.

Her back hurt at times due to a slight injury suffered years ago. It had pinched her back and when tension or pressure surfaced, the back flared up. Cronic migraines and vertigo would set in whenever she needed a defense or an excuse. Her husband could attest to this. So could others.

Ria shopped the good shops for her clothes and things and never checked a price tag. For gifts and presents for others she looked in thrift shops, and always looked at the price tag. She gaged her limit by the ranking she assigned. Designer mentality was obviously not a trait of the rank and file.

MEMO TO Ra Adam, Eve, Lisa, Marie, Peter, Paul, Mary, Martin, Martha, Stewart, Penny,

Marshall, Dillon, Ron, Howard, Cecil, Page, Jack, Daniel, Bert, Ernie, Charlotte, 17 Webb, Jeff, Gordon, Amos, Andy, Andrew, Lloyd, Bruce, Willis, Gene, Barry, hh Becky, Bob, Judy, Judy, Judy, Cary, Grant, Nelson, Eddie, Jim, Edmond, Anne, = Frank, Jesse, James, Dean, Tiger, UNDERWOOD, Liz, Taylor, Mike, Lewis, Vis Clark, Kent, Loretta, Lynn, Bill, Bailey, Jerry, Lewis, Julia, Robert, Tommy, Lee,

Marvin, Billy, Joel, Fred, Barney, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Dick, Jane, Sally, Chip, iw Dale, Diana, Ross, Melanie, Griffin, Pete, Rose, Bart, Simpson, Matthew, Mark,

Luke, John, Wayne, Jay, Randolph, Robin, William, Larry, Moe, Curley,

Will, Grace, Tom, Hank, Aaron, Connie, Francis, Scott, Roland, Patrick, Ewing, Tammy, Faye, Greg, Norman, Raymond, Floyd, Abby, Gail, Michael, Jordan, Hale, Irwin, Jamie, Lee, Tony, Curtis, Lucas, Hunt,

Hello Everybody. I want your real estate business. Referrals Welcome!

COLDWELL BANKER COMMERCIAL BROWN REALTORS 2205 S. State Rte. 157, Edwardsville, IL 62025 692-7290 & 656-2278 John Casey 670-5646 johneasey@coldwellbanker.com

Hugh, Grant, Billy, Joe, Wyatt, Arnie, Palmer, James, Dean, Martin, Sandra, Dee,

e Chuck, Conner, Happy, Lucky, Jerry, Lewis, Darren, Clark, Kent, Louie, Louie, George, Rodger, ¢ — Scott, Bob,

Names are singular, but when used next to the name it becomes a combination of a reai person. ie: Pete¥ Paul, Mary —

I ran one ad (different names, but similar to the above) in the Mt. Vernon paper and had the

most comments of any ad I had ever used. The company asked that I pull the ad. —

Srl if Mab

don. , te af Smeg os eed

– Sesru – tab fee

_ fray = fmt – Mike,

Rita Hernandez

My name is Jose’ Jimenez,

And I just love Rita Hernandez.

She and baseball has been berry, berry good to me, And I have loved them both since I was only three.

I like Rita’s many brothers too, all still alive, And all her sisters, how many, five?

Rita Hernandez is a special girl.

She makes my head and heart swim in a swirl.

I love Rita’s tacos, enchiladas, and refried beans.

She makes them spicy and hot, if you know what I mean. Pass the salsa, pass the tamales, and pass the gas, I scream. Holy criminey, I need relief — please pass the ice cream.

My name is Jose’ Jimenez,

And I just love Rita Hernandez.

She laughs and smiles and sometimes giggles, And I like to watch her ass as it wiggles.

Her eyes, they sparkle like sunshine. I always wanted to make her mine. My name is Jose’ Jimenez,

And I just love Rita Hernandez.

Rita grew up and became a bride,

And my tears were shed, I wanted to hide.

She married a great guy, he was no dope.

They managed to stay together with help from the Pope.

Now Rita is older and just a bit gray, And I have only this to say;

My name is Jose’ Jimenez,

And I just love Rita Hernandez.

Happy Birthday Rita John Casey 11-08-2001

Discussion / thoughts: I’m familiar with painting rocks and have enjoyed it for a long time. It helped me when I was very sick and unable to do a lot of things I used to do. The benefits were mostly mine. I believe the involvement of others, especially children, gives new meaning to the rocks. It is meant to acknowledge the caregivers who daily help people with doing all they can to make someone better, ease pain and discomfort, instill hope and understanding. Engaging people for a cause that can not be measured by money or time, helps us heal wounds and improve their quality of life. I thought about using spray paint and dong most of the work myself. I like to paint and am careful to make the rocks look good. The message is the important part. A note of encouragement or a word from a young person is far more to someone than a well painted rock. It teaches and instills in them GOODNESS. IT BRIGHTENS LIVES. In a few days by involving several people in a project a personalized rock for every caregiver in the two Alton Hospitals will have lasting benefits to the givers and the receivers. I will explore every idea i have to make the project enjoyable for everyone. There may be a need to use another place to complete the project. My apartment can work, but there may be a better place – like a room at a public building. SSP on north Rodgers would be an excellent place for it. It is centrally located, has large rooms, tables, chairs, etc. I’ll check into it more. john

Roses v v “VS Ree ants to see you in his office.”

I was driving back to GOS aeeRS EAL from Decatur and had to pass through Pana. Pana touted itself as the rose capital of the U.S. Roses had become the major commercial enterprise of Pana. Orders came in from all over the world for roses, including the Rose Parade in Pasadena, CA.

I was impressed with this and had visited a few greenhouses in Pana to see some of the roses growing. On this day I stopped at a rose shop and roses were on sale for a $1 each. I quickly calculated how many roses I needed to give all of the females on my floor a rose. Fxgwgteataaen.

“Treached the office at 3:45 P.M. which was a few minutes before the monthly marketing meeting was scheduled to start. I had time enough to give a rose to each female. They loved them and I felt good. I was on the marketing committee and we had a resounding and produ e evening.

The next morning the noticeable cheeriness in the air. It looked like a good start of a good

It was 9:30 or so when and the chief executive officer, arrived at at wo) k. It wa: called me and said, “Mr. Casey, Mr: ants t0 Nee you in his office.” I quickly picked up a yellow pad and a pen and started to his office. I was confident and happy that it was about the decisions made at the meeting the evening before.

“I see, Mr. Casey, that the girls all have roses on their desks,” he stated. “Yes,” I answered. “Mr. Casey,” he continued, “it appears that you are in their favor as a result of that, do you know that?” “Yes,” Lanswered. “Mre€ascy (@3echhre6=allineJO%M) do you know how many females work at this office?” “No.” I answered. “It’s more than a dozen,” he said. “They did not get roses on the first floor or the second floor and do you know what that means”? He continued, “two-thirds of the females at ‘ight now feel bad that they did not get roses and only one-third of them feel they did and it is all because of you.” He continued as my head bowed a bit, “If you thought giving a rose to the females on your floor why didn’t you think of the others.” He had a point. He continued, “All of the supervisors are also upset because their female staff is upset. We have good supervisors and good staff, but right now you are the most unpopular person on the first floor and the second floor, how does that make you feel.” “I don’t know,” I said, “I did not bring roses to make people mad at me.”

REDS continued to make statements regarding roses. He said he liked the idea a lot if everyone had a rose and that my wanting to make the females happy was probably good in the long run and will make other supervisors think and thank their staff more often. “We need to appreciate people more around here and this may make some of the grinders understand that feeling good is important to productive people.” He said that if I were to think individually again, to think harder and if it is good for one, it may be good for everyone.

When I emerged from his office after the almost one hour ta at me with anticipation of what went on inside his office. I walked bri: girl asked me, “What was the visit about?” I ee “Roses.”

yeas later when I was workingf the. Sn Sut Aceon ght a Disney watch fof ever 6ne of

mt about roses.

Ik, the girls in the office looked ily back to my desk and one

q0s

Roses “Mr. Casey, Mr. Osborn wants to see you in his office.”

I was driving back to Germania Federal S& L in Alton, IL from Decatur and had to pass through Pana. Pana touted itself as the rose capital of the U.S. Roses had become the major commercial enterprise of Pana. Orders came in from all over the world for roses, including the Rose Parade in Pasadena, CA. 1 was impressed with this and had visited a few greenhouses in Pana to see some of the roses growing. On this day I stopped at a rose shop and roses were on sale for a $1 each. | quickly calculated how many roses I needed to give all of the females on my floor a rose. Ten. I bought a dozen.

I reached the office at 3:45 P.M. which was a few minutes before the monthly marketing meeting was scheduled to start. I had time enough to give a rose to each female. They loved them and I felt good. I was on the marketing committee and we had a resounding and productive evening. Later, we dined on pepper loin at Tony’s in downtown Alton. All in all, the day went well.

The next morning the roses were on many desks and there was a noticeable cheeriness in the air. It looked like a good start of a good day.

It was 9:30 or so when Mr. Osborn, Chairman of Germania’s Board and the chief executive officer, arrived at work. It was 9:45 when Loretta Clayton, his secretary, called me and said, “Mr. Casey, Mr. Osborn wants to see you in his office.” I quickly picked up a yellow pad and a pen and started to his office. I was confident and happy that it was about the decisions made at the meeting the evening before.

“I see, Mr. Casey, that the girls all have roses on their desks,” he stated. “Yes, “ | commented. “Well, Mr. Casey, it appears that you are in their favor as a result of that, do you know that?” “Yes,” I answered. “Mr. Casey (he would not call me John) do you know how many females work at this office?” “No.” | answered. “It’s more than a dozen,” he said. “They did not get roses on the first floor or the second floor and do you know what that means”? He continued, “two-thirds of the females at Germania right now feel bad that they did not get roses and only one-third of them feel good because they did and it is all because of you.” He continued as my head bowed a bit, “If you thought giving a rose to the females on your floor why did you not think of the others.” He had a point. He continued, “All of the supervisors are also upset because their female staff is upset. We have good supervisors and good staff, but right now you are the most unpopular person on first floor and second floor, how does that make you feel.” “I don’t know, I did not bring roses to make people mad at me.”

Mr. Osborn continued to make statements regarding roses. He said he liked the idea a lot if everyone had a rose and that my wanting to make the females happy was probably good in the long run and will make other supervisors think and thank their staff more often. “We need to appreciate people more around here and this may make some of the grinders understand that feeling good is important to productive people.” “He said that if I were to think individually again, to think harder and if it is good for one, it may be good for everyone.”

When I emerged from his office after the almost one hour talk, the girls in the office looked at me with anticipation of what went on inside his office. 1 walked briskly back to my desk and one female asked me, “what was the visit about?” I answered, “Roses.”

Several years later when | was working for a bank as the mortgage banker, I bought Disney watches for my staff one day after a particularly great month. No one was left out. I learned a lesson about roses

John Casey ~ u

This may be a start of stories about Germania, especially Mr. Osborn.

Roses “Mr. Casey, Mr. Osborn wants to see you in his office.”

I was driving back to Germania Federal S& L in Alton, IL from Decatur and had to pass through Pana. Pana touted itself as the rose capital of the U.S. Roses had become the major commercial enterprise of Pana. Orders came in from all over the world for roses, including the Rose Parade in Pasadena, CA. 1 was impressed with this and had visited a few greenhouses in Pana to see some of the roses growing. On this day I stopped at a rose shop and roses were on sale for a $1 each. | quickly calculated how many roses I needed to give all of the females on my floor a rose. Ten. I bought a dozen

I reached the office at 3:45 P.M. which was a few minutes before the monthly marketing meeting was scheduled to start. I had time enough to give a rose to each female. They loved them and I felt good. 1 was on the marketing committee and we had a resounding and productive evening. Later, we dined on pepper loin at Tony’s in downtown Alton. All in all, the day went well.

The next morning the roses were on many desks and there was a noticeable cheeriness in the air. It looked like a good start of a good day.

It was 9:30 or so when Mr. Osborn, Chairman of Germania’s Board and the chief executive officer, arrived at work. It was 9:45 when Loretta Clayton, his secretary, called me and said, “Mr. Casey, Mr. Osborn wants to see you in his office.” I quickly picked up a yellow pad and a pen and started to his office. 1 was confident and happy that it was about the decisions made at the meeting the evening before.

“I see, Mr. Casey, that the girls all have roses on their desks,” he stated. “Yes, “ | commented “Well, Mr. Casey, it appears that you are in their favor as a result of that, do you know that?” “Yes,” [ answered. “Mr. Casey (he would not call me John) do you know how many females work at this office?” “No.” | answered. “It’s more than a dozen,” he said. “They did not get roses on the first floor or the second floor and do you know what that means”? He continued, “two-thirds of the females at Germania right now feel bad that they did not get roses and only one-third of them feel good because they did and it is all because of you.” He continued as my head bowed a bit, “If you thought giving a rose to the females on your floor why did you not think of the others.” He had a point. He continued, “All of the supervisors are also upset because their female staff is upset. We have good supervisors and good staff, but right now you are the most unpopular person on first floor and second floor, how does that make you feel.” “I don’t know, | did not bring roses to make people mad at me.”

Mr. Osborn continued to make statements regarding roses. He said he liked the idea a lot if everyone had a rose and that my wanting to make the females happy was probably good in the long run and will make other supervisors think and thank their staff more often. “We need to appreciate people more around here and this may make some of the grinders understand that feeling good is important to productive people.” “He said that if I were to think individually again, to think harder and if it is good for one, it may be good for everyone.”

When | emerged from his office after the almost one hour talk, the girls in the office looked at me with anticipation of what went on inside his office. I walked briskly back to my desk and one female asked me, “what was the visit about?” I answered, “Roses.”

Several years later when I was working for a bank as the mortgage banker, I bought Disney

watches for my staff one day after a particularly great month. No one was left out. I learned a lesson about roses.

John Casey

This may be a start of stories about Germania, especially Mr. Osborn.

The original page will appear here.

The original page will appear here.

Russia had declared war on Japan after the dropping of the bombs in order to get in on the spoils. (more land).

An estimated 2.5 million Japanese soldiers were on the islands and Japan at the end of the war and Japan had never surrender before. An Allied invasion force of one million men was estimated needed to invade Japan with an estimated 250,000 American causalities. The war may have lasted 5 or more years.

Oppenheimer did not want to make another bomb. There was no need. He believed it could result in world destruction. Einstein also believed that and wrote the President about his thoughts. Einstein met Truman ‘in the shade’ of a building in Chicago to deliver the letter. The letter was not disclosed to anyone else.

Russia had a large number of secret agents (spies) trying to get the plans for the bomb. Russia was projected to develop the bomb by 1953, but in 1949 they had it. Oppenheimer was a suspected aid to the Russians; he had ties to the Communist party. One of the important members of the Manhattan Project (Tom Hall) was indeed a spy. The KGB was extremely effective during the war, especially in the US. The US was emerging as a super power.

The concern of the Allies was that if Germany was the first to make an A-Bomb, Hitler would have used it. He would have no regard or concern that it might end the world. Hitler committed suicide on April 30, 1945. His belief was finally gone that Germany’s ability to develop a secret weapon would save Germany from defeat. The effective air raids by the American Forces with the B-29s brought Germany to its knees and the war in Europe ended in early May.

Sandi has danced with me and talked to me and has even played a game of golf (of sorts) with me and shared my life for almost four decades. Long and short talks with her, at all time of the day or night, has calmed me and helped me over bumps. She tells me like she sees it. I listen — sometimes. I could call Sandi right now and she will say, “How’s it going? She cares for me — no doubt about it.

566 john casey 8-12-02

I introduced her to my best friend, Dave. They were immediately attracted to each other and now they are a happy happy couple. I have

known both for more than 45 years (June 2016 is the time of this note). The best gift I have ever made to them was to introduce each other to “my best friend.”

Some of my scars were made by mountain lions His by grizzlies He was antlered by an elk A moose gored me

He could hold his breath under water for two minutes I could run 10 miles in SOminutes I rode broncos He rode bulls

“See you tomorrow,” “Ok, take it easy.” We can’t wait To talk about our New ailments

John Casey 2008

SCHNUCKS GODFREY STORE MANAGER – Tina Robenstine I checked out at 3:39 P.M. on 10-21-2. I was delighted with my purchases, and the great deal on wines. I bought six bottles. When I got home I checked the receipt and planned to tell my friends about the terrific sale on wine. A surprise item on the receipt was H&B Ham chunks for $7.99. I did not see a ring up of a fried chicken breast for $3.99. I don’t eat ham, I do eat chicken. I’m almost 81 and have not purchased ham in several years. It is not recommended due to my health. I didn’t go near the ham department. Every chicken breast of chicken is weighed and every time, the cost is $2.99. Why weigh them? I do like them. It is a mystery about the ring-up of ham and not a ring-up of chicken. Could it be a clerk error? Was it an error of the checker? I know it is only a $5.00 error, but the time and effort to carefully check every item I purchase at Schnucks in the future disappoints me. But I’ll do it, because I believe you have a good store. John Casey 435 1/2 Bluff St. Alton, IL 62002

School and work 11-29-21 Do not try to satisfy your vanity by teaching a great many things. Awaken people’s curiosity is enough to open minds; do not overload them. Once you have learned to ask good questions, you have learned how to learn and no one can keep you from learning what you want of need to know. People have a right to their own opinion, but not their own facts. Evidence must be located, not created. Opinions, not backed by evidence, is singular. We must learn how to deal with sources first; when and why did something happen? Consider the speaker, author, writer, time, and places. Ask whose viewpoint is presented. Whose viewpoints are different than yours? Or alike? Express how they influence yours. At age 6 we went to school at a one room building. Each year there were about 30 kids. One teacher taught all 8 grades, in a odd and even plan. I took the first grade, and then the third; second and fourth; my final year I took the sixth and eighth grade. Our report card was either pass or fail the subjects. Before class begin, the teacher gave a 15-20 minute program. She read books, played the piano and invited us to sing with her. Songs I recall were: “Old Black Joe” – ‘When Johnnie comes marching home again’ – ‘Carry me back to old Virginia’, and my old Kentucky Home’. Brrr Rabbit and tar baby.’ They were racist songs. I didn’t see a Black person until I started high school in 1954. There were four Blacks in Vienna’s student body of approximately 390 students. High School was a shock to rural students who were bussed to school. Townies, in Vienna liked school more and took harder and more classes because many wanted to go to college. Townies belonged to clubs, organizations, participated in music, plays, sports, class elections, balls and dances. Rural kids were unlikely to participate as they had to catch a bus home. Drop outs we're common for boys and a few girls when they reached 16. I was called Johnny and I loved high school. I took an aptitude test and took harder classes than my Tunnel Hill class mates. Being sports minded I made varsity my first year in baseball and basketball, Vienna’s only sports. I earned five letters and pitched

SECRET DINER This restaurant and pub has been a part of the community since the late 1970’s. It earned it’s reputation and loyal customer base by serving great food and its friendly atmosphere. A paved parking lot is just across the street and parking is also available along the side street near the restaurant. The red brick building is easy to see from the well traveled street that runs past it. Signs, old and new ones are displayed on two sides. The front entrance leads to a vestibule with a door to the cozy pub on the left. the door to the right leads to a dinning room. This room has wood booths with high backs along the wall and comfortable chairs at round tables in the center of the room. This room has a unique addition on the far wall, garage doors that open to a patio area used during warm days. this room is where my friends met me. A second dinning room is located at the back of the restaurant and used by groups, gatherings, events and meetings. The cozy pub is a favorite of regulars who likely live close to the restaurant. It’s atmosphere is usually filled with talk and laughter. Everybody knows everybody, it seems. TVs are on the wall and most are turned to a sports channel. Signs, photos, sport jersey’s, mementos are everywhere in this fun atmosphere. Food is served in the pub, including full meals. Food is the main attraction of this restaurant and bar. Military veterans, police, fire and first responders receive a discount on some days. Children too. Just ask your server. Steaks, chops, BBQs BLT’s and pastas, plus an assortment of sandwiches, deep fried onion rings, chicken strips, french fries, french fried green beans, and cheese balls, soups, chili, BLT’s and finger foods. A favorite sandwich is a deep fried breaded pork tenderloin sandwich. It’s huge. Sides, salads, desserts and cocktails are available. A out-of-this-world bloody Mary, premium and local beer on tap or bottles are served with frosted mugs, Wine and spirits are also available.. Today I chose another favorite. It was a GOLDEN horseshoe with roasted turkey; crinkled cut French fries and golden creamy cheese layered on top. Ground beef, smoked ham, chicken strips, and roast beef are also options for their horseshoes. I chose a OBERON American ale to drink. It is a light beer with a hint of orange. It was cold and refreshing. I recommend it. I passed on desserts, but promised to come back. My friends and I were served by a very ef ficient and friendly waitress. She greeted us warmly when we met her and thanked us for coming as we left. We all replied, “We’ll be back.” words – body: 440 Words on the Secret Diner story in the Advantage that confuse and are inappropriate: Definite staple, joint, pops up quickly, it’s unassuming stature fits its unassuming awesomeness perfectly, appears, tables sprinkled. The whole building is much bigger that it appears from the outside, Pony up to the bar, plop down at the bar, I steered away from my normal order on this visit, this is never disappointing. You can’t go wrong with a monster breaded pork tenderloin, you will have enough food to eat for days, and it is unbelievably delicious, I wanted to dare to be different on this visit. This open faced monstrosity featured… A little more brightly colored than the main dining room…The fries here are thick cut and a perfect vehicle for the horseshoe… an avalanche of cheese. I especially loved the touch of the turkey… the saltiness of the fries and hearty taste of the turkey, offered plenty and was super delicious…to wash it all down… A plethora of topping… a slew of sandwiches. Joint, awesomeness, pony up and plop down, monster, monstrosity, vehicle, avalanche, the touch? of turkey, saltiness, super delicious wash it all down, a plethora, a slew…..

The original page will appear here.

I've been weak too long. My so-called sensitivity and philosophical banter, if continued, will be my legacy. Wanting to matter (to others) just isn't good to me. I let myself down.

This isn't how I want to be.

I can be strong without anger or frustration. Trying to be better is not in my control. I can't really help anyone either. I can listen and only when asked, should I attempt to comment.

However, I can ask. I can try.

It’s too bad today. I must write a few glimpses into my psyche and see what lies beneath the superficial of most days. What is the meaning of today in the world? We will change because of it.

I think of people in my life, those alive. My mind races with thoughts and today will be like no other. The 40,000 thoughts everyone has everyday will be multiplied by 10 or more today and some will never be erased. Some will put fear in us that will last until we aren’t here.

There will be heroes in the ashes in the streets of New York, in the fields of Pennsylvania, and in the capital city of Washington. There will be new heroes tomorrow and many tomorrow’s.

I will continue this soon and you shall hear from me. For now, I must watch and learn. 9-12-01

Sleeplessness of 200 million will magnify the hurt of Americans today. Some of the younger ones will not know or will recall one of America’s deadly days.

Soldiers die on foreign fields and their dying is as great a loss as anyone is. Does it matter that unsuspecting victims in polished shoes and coiffure hair met death as suddenly as the piercing bullet ended the uniformed soldier’s life?’ However death arrives, how many goes at once, does not take away the importance of the individual life that always means so much.

A terrorist attack on one of the twin towers 110 story World Trade Center in New York this morning shocked millions of breakfasting Americans. Millions also watched, as another civilian transport jet slammed into the other tower and flames burst brightly in the perfectly blue sky. Four hijacked planes, Two from Boston, one from Newark, and one from Dulles in Washington all bound for California, three to LA and one to San Francisco, all full of fuel, would crash in minutes of being commandeered. One would hit the south World Trade Center and another would hit the north one. One would hit the Pentagon in Washington DC and the other would crash near Pittsburgh. All passengers and crew, and the hijackers would die, as would thousands die because of the crashes.

Everybody has a time, even heroes. Today we will sing God Bless America, and pray for others and ourselves. My admiration of everyday people has increased. We have heroes among us.

Snapshots are important. Yesterday was a big picture of a world event, but what we do today is also important. Also tomorrow. We lost Americans yesterday, but we haven’t lost America. We can’t be haunted by or live in fear of yesterday and what happened, but we must be inspired. It was real, and when we see each other, hold hands, hug and smile even as tears swell in our eyes, we have our strength. Causalities that shock us also remind us that individuals near and far from the pockets of death are affected. How close we are and how close we need to be is important.

As we reach into our thoughts of those we love, care for, and respect, we learn a lot about ourselves. There is a need for some to be with someone and there are those that need to be alone. A stranger can be our pillars and we theirs. We much each handle it and go on. We will.

John Casey 9-11 and 12, 2001

OL(PRI) 10:17 COLDWELL BANKER EDW TEL: 61869272°°

It’s too bad today. I must write a few glimpses into my psyche and see wh most days. What is the meaning of today in the world? We will change bec.

I think of people in my life, those alive. My mind races with thoughts and too The 40,000 thoughts everyone has everyday will be multiplied by 10 or more toc erased. Some will put fear in us that will last until we aren’t here.

There will be heroes in the ashes in the streets of New York, in the fields of Pennsyh capital city of Washington. There will be new heroes tomorrow and many tomorrow's

I will continne this soon and you shall hear from me. For now, I must watch and lear. 9-12-01

Sleeplessness of 200 million will magnify the hurt of Americans today. Some of the younger on know or will recall one of America’s deadly days.

Soldiers die on foreign fields and their dying is as great a loss as anyone is. Does it matter that unsuspecting victims in polished shoes and coiffure hair met death as suddenly as the piercing bullet. the uniformed soldier's life? However death arrives, how many yoes at once, does not take away the importance of the individual life that always means so much,

A terrorist attack on one of the twin towers 110 story World Trade Center in New York this morning

ihocked millions of breakfasting Americans. Millions also watched, as another civilian transport jet Jammed into the other tower and flames burst brightly in the perfectly blue sky. Four hijacked planes, ‘wo from Boston, one from Newark, and one from Dulles in Washington all bound for California, three to A and one to San Francisco, all full of fuel, would crash in minutes of being commandeered. One would it the south World Trade Center and another would hit the north one. One would hit the Pentagon in lashington DC and the other would crash near Pittsburgh. All passengers and crew, and the hijackers ould dic, as would thousands die because of the crashes.

rybody hias a time, even heroes. Today we will sing God Bless America, and pray for others and elves. My admiration of evesyday people has increased. We have heroes among us.

pshots are important. Yesterday was a big picture of a world event, but what we do today is also ortant. Also tomorrow. We lost Americans yesterday, but we haven’t lost America. We can’t be

inted by or live in fear of yesterday and what happened, but we must be inspired. It was real, and when ce cach other, hold hands, hug and smile even as tears swell in our eyes, we have onr strength.

alities that shock us also remind us that individuals near and far from the pockets of death are

ted. How close we are and how close we need to be is important.

le reach into our thoughts of those we love, care for, and respect, we learn a lot about ourselves. There ced for some to be with someone and there are those that need to be alone. A stranger can be our and we theirs, We much each handle it and go on. We will.

‘asey nd 12, 2001

September 11, 2001

It’s too bad today. I must write a few glimpses into my psyche and see what lies beneath the superficial of most days. What is the meaning of today in the world? We will change because of it.

I think of people in my life, those alive. My mind races with thoughts and today will be like no other. The 40,000 thoughts everyone has everyday will be multiplied by 10 or more today and some will never be

erased. Some will put fear in us that will last until we aren’t here.

There will be heroes in the ashes in the streets of New York, in the fields of Pennsylvania, and in the capital city of Washington. There will be new heroes tomorrow and many tomorrow’s.

I will continue this soon and you shall hear from me. For now, I must watch and learn. 9-12-01

Sleeplessness of 200 million will magnify the hurt of Amer know or will recall one of America’s deadly days.

s today. Some of the younger ones will not

Soldiers die on foreign fields and their dying is as great a loss as anyone is. Does it matter that unsuspecting victims in polished shoes and coiffure hair met death as suddenly as the piercing bullet ended the uniformed soldier's life? However death arrives, how many goes at once, does not take away the importance of the individual life that always means so much.

A terrorist attack on one of the twin towers 110 story World Trade Center in New York this morning shocked millions of breakfasting Americans. Millions also watched, as another civilian transport jet

slammed into the other tower and flames burst brightly in the perfectly blue sky. Four hijacked Two from Boston, one from Newark, and one from Dulles in Washington all bound for California, three to LA and one to San Francisco, all full of fuel, would crash in minutes of being commandeered. One would

hit the sonth World Trade Center and another would hit the north one. One would hit the Pentagor Washington DC and the other would crash near Pittsburgh. All passengers and crew, and the hijackers would die, as would thousands die because of the crashes.

Everybody has a time, even heroes. Today we will sing God Bless America, and pray for others and ourselves. My admiration of everyday people has increased. We have heroes among us.

Snapshots are important. Yesterday was a big picture of a world event, but what we do today is also important. Also tomorrow. We lost Americans yesterday, but we haven’t lost America. We can’t be

nted by of live in fear of yesterday and what happened, but we must be inspired. It was real, and when we see each other, hold hands, hug and smile even as tears swell in our eyes, we have our strength. Causalities that shock us also remind us that individuals near and far from the pockets of death are affected. How close we are and how close we need to be is important.

‘As we reach into our thoughts of those we love, care for, and respect, we learn a lot about ourselves. There is a need for some to be with someone and there are those that need to be alone. A stranger can be our pillars and we theirs. We much each handle it and go on. We will.

John Casey 9-11 and 12, 2001

Shan, Texas

I am in a rage about what is happening in Texas now. It has locked me in so far. Today I'll get some things done.

I wrote quickly. I'll read slowly, and with care.

[signed] Love, Dad

Shan,

Shanon Watts: 'Fervently lifting Uvalde up in prayer while refusing to do a goddamned thing to stop gun violence is why this keeps happening, especially in Texas,' said Shanon Watts, founder of Moms Demand Action, which advocates for tighter gun laws.

In fact, Sen. Ted Cruz has been spreading gun-lobby lies about the ATF director nominee while trying to stop a federal ghost-guns ban.

After 16 people were killed in a hot air balloon in Lockhart, Texas, Ted Cruz authored and passed federal legislation improving safety rules. But after the shootings in El Paso and Santa Fe, he blamed mental illness, [not] gun violence.

The National Parents Union said in a statement that 'We need more than thoughts and prayers. We need policy changes and real action since Texas has had more than 100 school shootings across the states since 1970.'

COSTS – AK-15 [AR-15], 2022: ~$800 or most range in price from $1200 – $1700, avg. $1,000; +$175 of bullets, +2 magazines @ $150 ea = $300; round to $1,500. Barrel – 16 inches. Weight – 6.8 lbs. Capable of shooting 3-inch groups. 10-round magazine = another 2-3 magazines. 33mm. [pricing notes] Texas shooter: 375 [bullets] @ 30 cents = ~$112.50. [are these costs per bullet?]

She didn’t think she was a great cook, but that was not true. And she could clean a house so thoroughly that if they gave awards for house cleaning; Vicki would win every time. A housekeeper said that when she went to Vicki’s house to clean, “I brought my own dirt.” She was super organized too and nothing was out of place – ever.

Vicki was smart and could talk like an author about any subject. She had opinions that she expressed about life and sayings that were uniquely hers. “Well alrighty then,” she would say and it could mean I agree or disagree or leave it alone. “Whatever,” was another word she used. She could add syrup and honey to her voice quickly or leave them out altogether.

Her big brown eyes would ‘POP’ with emotion and she could rivet the attention of the listener easily. Her smile was broad and magnificent and put the listener at ease. But, when she wanted to, her face would show anger.

One of her best traits was using proper names (also proper English) and always referring to someone by their name. In the midst of a story she would stop me and say, “Does she/he have a name?” The story could continue only when the person had a name. I made up a few names and have always used names in my stories since then. They’re much more believable when there is an actual name. I liked to use Tom Cullum for my name in my stories. Tom was a real person, but what he did in my stories was make-believe.

She was left handed and learned to shoot a pistol. I recall her practicing with an unloaded pistol and saying, “Pow, pow, pow.” Then she would hold the gun up to her lips and blow imaginary smoke from the barrel and say “I gotcha!”

One Christmas I bought and gave a young ferret to Josh, Vicki’s 11-year-old son. Vicki named it Farris. This charming little animal took to Josh like a duck to water. Farris loved crawling into Josh’s shirt and crawling around inside it and down the sleeves to openings for its little head. Josh loved it too. Farris would scamper hunch-backed through the house darting here and there ahead of us and sometimes rushed right by us. He could turn, slide, and roll anywhere. He was unlikely to be caught unless he wanted to be. He was just tame enough to be caught. He would not come to calls even though we tried to teach him. Because he did not make a mouth sound that we could hear (though once I thought I heard him laugh) we didn’t know where he was. We had to look for him.

We bought a leash for Farris so he and Josh could take yard walks. Now and then Josh would take the leash off and he and Farris would play wrestle, Josh never turning him loose. Our home was in a wooded area and being outdoors was wonderful and Vicki, Josh and I loved to be there. Farris loved it too and one day when only Vicki and I

Shocked, I stepped back, but I was certain I recognized them. They hiked their trousers up and dasjed away laughing uproariously. I’ll reveal their first names only: Tom, Charlie, Ron, and Ray. They had played in the morning round and obviously had stopped at the nearby 2" Time Around Tavern for lunch and some brewskies which led to their splendid idea of mooning me. I blamed them for the bogey I took and said it may have cost me the tournament.

My last round at The Robert P. Wadlow Municipal Golf Course on April 21, 2012 brought back many memories, but none compared to the “mooning” on # 7.

Word count: 760

John Casey

435 % Bluff St.

Alton, IL 62002 618-692-7290 IJrcasey 134@ gmail.com

Should I tell the truth? Do I seem like a jerk Sever ties Argue ? Avoid Pout Happiness is something I can do only for myself/. “UGH – Get over yourself” Kant 4/22/1724 – 2/12/1804 Don’t use people to get what I want. Can I just trust my guts? Are my guts stupid? Should I listen to them? Constant learning, constant trying, constant searching is what keeps me from ruts and being stuck. It teaches me to be attentive, to anticipate each other’s action and avoid repeating myself. Being good isn’t so hard. My goal is to become a better person in my day to day life. Knowledge makes me gentle. Ignorance hardens me.

There is something deep in our character that embraces the pioneering spirit, going where no one has ever gone before; doing what no one has ever done before. If an opportunity is truly new and different, it will attract our attention, our interest, and our participation. What matters most is that it brings a sense of discovery, a sort of “Wow, I never thought about it that way." Novelty counts.

A string of words that have the same syllabic cadence is more memorable than a random collection of sounds: simplicity, brevity, credibility, consistency, and novelty stand out because they all end with the same sound.

“You can do it, I have faith in you,” are not just words for children. These words let us know that there is confidence in our potential and challenges us to rise to the occasion and be our better selves. It makes idealists of us all.

It's sometimes not what you say but what you ask that really matters. “Will you be better off" is a simple question that rings true.

[Header:] "[Moth] Talk — Raw — Flow of words —"

If Someone would have told me that my son would have developed into a talker, I'd say, no way. He was present on a few of my talks and showed Little interest in what I had to say — my interests were not his.

Except when he built Lego things — Communities. The first Legos were more fun than Lincoln Logs. I didn't want him to hurry but his pace was Like Speedy Gonzales. Beep-Beep, and the Road Runner, Beep Beep — [margin: "He finished what he started very fast"] then he scrambled the Legos and invited me to build whatever they were. He Liked to see me struggle and cheered me on.

My Son had friends that also Liked Legos and often they traded or, even better, Combined the Legos at our home or at his friend's house.

One year he was asked to Learn about trees. Specifically, fruit trees. Now "you're talking" I said as trees fit my interest and I was sure my son would too. I was pleased he would Rather Learn about tree functions and how they were important to people and the world.

My Son had ZERO interest. NONE. Until I asked him if I would Like to see trees that could have different kinds of fruits. "Yea," "how do they do that." His curiosity was strong and I was Enthusiastic.

I had never grafted tree Limbs to trees — any Trees. I had been around Orchards as a boy and Knew all Kinds of fruit they produced. Like Apples, of course, peaches, plums, and Cherries. There were more.

I Looked forward to Learning with my Son and believed his Teacher would Love to see a fruit Tree with different Kinds of Fruit.

My Son was 9 years old when we started the project. I was 40! [his own math gives 42]

The Library became a beginning to Learn to graft Limbs. Orchard Owners took Care of their trees but None had grafted different Kind of fruit.

Someone recommended that I go to a tree nursery. That was good advice.

I Learned the process and Collected Small fruit trees, Sharp blades, grafting tape and how to support the Limbs. Where was my son? He spent maybe 20 minutes with me when he and I started to graft. His interest wasn't strong.

We finished the project; Three kinds of [Baby] apples, Red, Yellow and green ones were on Our Tree. It was droopy. It earned my son a good grade. Victory.

My Son built a Lego model of The Titanic. It had Lots of pieces — 1500+. His patience was excellent and as he continued to build it the more enthusiasm he had. He Studied the Ship, its passengers and Crew, what happened to it, and what Went wrong.

Later — 30 year[s] — he went to Ireland and visited the ship yard and Museum of The Titanic.

[Margin: "When he finished it we made a display Case and added items and informational of the TITANIC."] It was displayed in the Lobby of the bank where I worked. It was beautiful, inspiring, and tragic.

His Christmas present in 2021 was a big box filled with Carefully finished pieces of Legos for the Titanic. It was displayed at Christmas.

I've Enjoyed talking to you about a remarkable Son Who, because he Cared about people, Studied not Only the ship Named the Titanic but how it was built and what became of it — Especially, the people.

My Son has owned a hair Salon for ___ years. He's an artist and Creative. He Loves music. He Loves good people.

He never had to Leach, was bold and adventuresome and the Kindest person I've ever Known.

He includes me in his Life.

He includes his friends, family, and strangers in his Life. People Like his Company.

I certainly do!

Thanks,

cleaning for everyone and everything (or mostl. Sit pillows in the sun to freshen — same for duvets, comforters Oven- add 3 tbsp of baking soda to a spray bottle of warm water, shake and mix, spritz on stains and let sit 10 min. Also can sprinkle salt over stains and wipe off. Cleaning room by room: Dust every surface Wipe down walls — add small amt. of dishwashing liquid to a gallon of warm water Wipe light fixtures, blinds Rotate mattress — wash or hang drapes outside to freshen Fill a spray bottle with white vinegar and spritz doorknobs, phone, cupboard handles, sinks, toilet seat Germs removed! Windows: on part vinegar, 2 parts water in a spray bottle (dry with paper towels) Counters: One part ammonia, 2 parts water Fresh air spray: 1 tbsp vinegar, 1 tsp baking soda, 1 cup water in a spray bottle Clean toilet: 1 cup vinegar in bowl; let set 5 min before scrubbing Glass ring on wood: 2 tbsp vinegar, 2 tbsp veg oil — apply and rub with grain Polish silver: 3 parts baking soda, 1 part water. Rub with soft cloth, rinse with water, dry Rugs: sprinkle baking soda 15 min before vacuum Decrust pots/pans: sprinkle baking soda & water and make a paste, let soak over night Stains: Red wine 4 cup white vinegar; | tsp liquid laundry detergent — apply/dab with paper towel, rinse with cold water Blood | tsp laundry detergent; /% tsp ammonia; ¥% cup cold water, dap, rinse. Can add salt and cold water and soak. Other stains: Fill and boil a large pot with water, spread stained clothing over the top of the bucket and pour the water through the stain area Ink: Squeeze lemon juice on the stain, set garment in the sun also rubbing alcohol – Mud: Scrape off — add rubbing alcohol for the hard to remove film stuff Press flowers: Use a phone book, trim blossoms, lay flat, close and press (use a touch of glue to mount on paper or matte) press 1-2 weeks. A small bowl of white vinegar will absorb foul odors Remove stains from shirt collars/pits of shirts: spray with vinegar before washing Drains: 12 cup baking soda, wash down % cup vinegar —wait 15 min. & Pour boiling water into drain.

Tea toddy: | tea bag in large cup or tumbler; steep 2 min, add tsp honey, 4 juice of a lemon, shot or jigger of whiskey, breathe to clear your snoz and sip. Repeat until cured.

Martini: 2 0z gin or vodka over cracked ice in a shaker; 1 oz (or less) dry vermouth; dash of orange bitters (good addition); run a lemon twist around the edge of the chilled (ice optional) pour mix into the glass through a strainer. Add large Olive.

I'm going to listen to Mr. Springsten sing ' Dead Man Walking.' Bruce has a style that I like.

Ina few minutes I'll peek outside and try to see the comet. It is supposed to be near the big dipper. It comes around every 1700 years or is that 17,000 years. It should be in the sky for a few more weeks.

Cold weather persists. UGG. My girth shows the inactivity-or age. My clothes are snug. Socks fit OK. Sorry about the weather where you are. Travel.

Hunting for turkey is out. Time and no permit. Gosh, I loved to hunt turkey. The woods is so green and fresh. It is usually cold in the morning, and when the sun comes up you can almost see the blue bells grow. Mushrooms are almost findable too. The grass is wet and you can slip quietly in the woods. The gobble of a turkey will wake you up and give you chills of excitement.

A good mess of blue gill or bass would taste good, don't you think? My hooks are sharp. Fishing competes with golf with me. I love both. Going with pals will make the difference.

I would like to go to Shiloh, Tennessee for a day of reflection on the Civil War battle that lasted two days (April 6 & 7, 1862) and cost so many lives of young men. It was the biggest battle of 1862. To me, this battle was the turning point for the Union. They somehow managed to not lose the battle, and the Confederates realized that the war was not likely to end soon, and that they could lose it.

I think often of dad and mom. Each season brings memories of childhood – and adulthood. The events and happenings in life are meant to be shared, and I ofien think how interesting it would be to share views about things with them. Computers, medicine, politics, … the comet, Shiloh…

There will soon be a office with all sorts of stuff in it. Fax, phone, copier, and a new printer. Already there is a computer and a great computer desk. The old desk that was in the hall at Tunnel Hill is a pretty addition. The old Seth Thomas clock (not wound) adorns the wall. The hardwood floor is pretty too. Book cases full of books are at arms length. Vicki has done a great job decorating it and I am proud of it. My plans are to work here more on stuff- some of it work.

The house looks good, new gutters, new roof and some landscaping. More to come. Trees and perhaps some flowers will be planted this Spring. Inside, paint is fresh.

See these movies: The American President. Braveheart. Apollo 13. Waterworld. Consider these: Up close and Personal. Happy Gilmore. Birdcage.

It's aspirin time followed by bedtime followed by wakeup and followed by work – maybe followed by fun this WARM weekend.

I smoke cigars now! Started a few months ago and must admit that I like them. They relax me – or so I tell myself. They take about 30-45 minutes to smoke on the way home from work. See you around. This is the end of the letter. It was good thinking of you as I wrote. Love.

T'm going to listen to Mr. Springsten sing ' Dead Man Walking.’ Bruce has a style that I like.

Ina few minutes I'll peek outside and try to see the comet. It is supposed to be near the big dipper. It comes around every 1700 years or is that 17,000 years. It should be in the sky for a few more weeks.

Cold weather persists. UGG. My girth shows the inactivity-or age. My clothes are snug. Socks fit OK. Sorry about the weather where you are. Travel.

Hunting for turkey is out. Time and no permit. Gosh, I loved to hunt turkey. The woods is so green and fresh. It is usually cold in the morning, and when the sun comes up you can almost see the blue bells grow. Mushrooms are almost findable too. The grass is wet and you can slip quietly in the woods. The gobble of a turkey will wake you up and give you chills of excitement.

A good mess of blue gill or bass would taste good, don't you think? My hooks are sharp. Fishing competes with golf with me. Ilove both. Going with pals will make the difference.

I would like to go to Shiloh, Tennessee for a day of reflection on the Civil War battle that lasted two days (April 6 & 7, 1862) and cost so many lives of young men. It was the biggest battle of 1862. To me, this battle was the turning point for the Union. They somehow managed to not lose the battle, and the Confederates realized that the war was not likely to end soon, and that they could lose it.

I think often of dad and mom. Each season brings memories of childhood – and adulthood. The events and happenings in life are meant to be shared, and I often think how interesting it would be to share views about things with them. Computers, medicine, politics, … the comet, Shiloh…

There will soon be a office with all sorts of stuff in it. Fax, phone, copier, and a new printer. Already there is a computer and a great computer desk. The old desk that was in the hall at Tunnel Hill is a pretty addition. The old Seth Thomas clock (not wound) adorns the wall, The hardwood floor is pretty too. Book cases full of books are at arms length. Vicki has done a great job decorating it and I am proud of it. My plans are to work here more on stuff- some of it work.

The house looks good, new gutters, new roof and some landscaping. More to come. Trees and perhaps some flowers will be planted this Spring. Inside, paint is fresh.

See these movies: The American President. Braveheart. Apollo 13. Waterworld. Consider these: Up close and Personal. Happy Gilmore. Birdcage.

It's aspirin time followed by bedtime followed by wakeup and followed by work – maybe followed by fun this WARM weekend.

Ismoke cigars now! Started a few months ago and must admit that I like them. They relax me – or so I tell myself. They take about 30-45 minutes to smoke on the way home from work. See you around. This is the end of the letter. It was good thinking of you as I wrote. Love.

St. Louis Cardinal Baseball A handsome 2,000 Rookie of the Year, Albert Puhols bobble head doll has been in a trunk for the last 20 odd years. He was my hero for his first ten years of his career. He is again in 2022, Hello, I’m John Casey and own the Pujols bobble head. I’m decluttering my place. I’m 81 and have health issues. I may sell the doll. My son who lives in Boston advises me to keep it. I’m not sure I will. I’ve been a Cardinal fan for more than seventy years. I lived in Tunnel Hill, Illinois which was and is a tiny village in deep Southern Illinois. It’s located abut 150 miles from St. Louis. I listened to broadcasts on my neighbors static filled radio as often as I could. I live in Alton. I have attended several hundred games, starting with Sportsman’s Park. I met several and some became my friend. I’ve seen opening games, playoffs, World Series and I’ve been to wakes there. I have great memories of baseball in St. Louis and all the players, coaches and men and women I’ve met and or seen play there. I wrote, and still have stories of many of the games, and players.

Would the Cardinal organization be interested in owning the bobble head? Thanks for reviewing the letter. John Casey 435 1/2 Bluff Street Alton, IL 62002 618-670-5646 jrcasey134@gmail.com

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When I was 16 in 1957 I met Stan MUSIAL WHO AT the TIME W AS AT his PINNACLE OF a TWENTY-TWO YEAR CAREER WITH THE ST. LOUIS CARDINALS. OUR HIGH SCHOOL TEAM AT VIENNA, ILLINOIS HAD A GAME WITH NEW ATHENS, ILLINOIS EARLIER THAT DA Y AND WE WERE BUSSED TO SPORTSMAN’S FIELD ON DELMAR IN ST. LOUIS TO W ATCH A GAME BETWEEN THE MILW AUKEE BRAVES AND THE ST. LOUIS CARDINALS. BRIAN KERLEY W AS OUR COACH AND ED THies COACHED NEW ATHENS. ED HAD COACHED THE VIENNA TEAM AND HAD INVITED MR. KERLEY’S BOYS TO PLA Y AT NEW ATHENS AND THEN ATTEND A GAME IN ST. LOUIS. New Athens was 40 miles from St.Louis. Our trip to New Athens was 100 miles from Vienna. MR. KERLEY MADE ARRANGEMENTS FOR OUR TEAM TO ARRIVE THE DA Y BEFORE THE GAME, ST A Y OVERNIGHT IN A MOTEL AND PLA Y AN EARLY GAME THE NEXT DA Y . IT W AS A LIVELY GAME AND IN DOUBT UNTIL THE VERY LAST. VIENNA WON AND OUR TEAM W AS EXCITED.

Hello everyone — how are you tonight?

Is there a Kevin in the house? Kevin, we all love you because to us you are BACON. (1958- 60+ films-no oscars)

Last month I bombed and was very embarrassed. If you were here, I apologize to you.

I was sorry

I signed up the next day. Will I be sorry? Ill apologize anyway.

I can make up my mind quickly — and — change it — quickly.

This is my FAREWELL TOUR I want some redemption (Save Face) and

have brought along some things to share with you.

We can stay in the flow Only when we are actively attentive To the hazards ahead and the lessons of the past. Chances are we are not good at remembrances.

There is a sense of certainty that you we accomplish Something well beyond our normal capacities. A “still, small voice,” is within us. It is never

A “booming voice and Chances are you have heard it.

Just let yourself drift, Not worrying about where you are heading — By all means care, but not too much. Learn how to care and not care. Strive and don’t strive.

Golf is life condensed. Chances are that you have noticed, Golf teaches us humility, patience, precision, balance and alertness. Golf is bigger than us.

The 19" hole is a place to prolong A companionship of the 18 holes we have played. It is the end of a competitive activity that should Not end abruptly.

We should endeavor to part from one another With dignity and good feelings. Primarily this time of closure is a time of Remembrances, a time of recollection.

The End. John

Paradoxically we can stay in the flow only when we get ourselves out of the way.

Stillness is your essential nature. Pay attention to silence. Listening to silence awakens the dimension of stillness within you. When you notice the silence around you, you are not thinking. You are aware, but not thinking. Allow nature to teach you stillness. Becoming aware of awareness is the arising of inner stillness. True intelligence operates silently.

The stream of thinking has enormous momentum. Every thought pretends that it matters so much. Wisdom is not a product of thought. Attention is primordial intelligence, consciousness itself.

Boredom, anger, sadness, or fear is not personal. They are conditions of the mind. They come and go. Nothing that comes and goes is you. The mind is always trying to conclude and interpret.

Prejudice of any kind implies that you are identified with the thinking mind. It means you don’t see the other human being anymore, but only your own concept of that human being.

Artistic creation, sports, dance, teaching, – mastery in any field of endeavor implies that the thinking mind is either no longer involved at all or at least is taking second place. There is no decision-making process anymore. Mastery of life is the opposite of control.

A moment of danger can bring about a temporary cessation of the stream of thinking and thus give you a taste of what it means to be present, alert, and aware. The Truth is far more all encompassing than the mind could ever comprehend.

When you think or speak about yourself, you are speaking of the “I” that is never satisfied for long. It is a mind-made sense of who you are, conditioned by the past and seeking to find its fulfillment in the future.

The ego is a mind-made “ME.” Ego has a compulsive preoccupation with future. By giving your full attention to this moment, intelligence far greater than the egoic mind enters your life. When you give more attention to the doing than to the future result that you want to achieve through it, you break the old ego conditioning and you become a great deal more effective, and infinitely more fulfilling and joyful.

Ego contains at least an element of “victim identity.” Resentment and grievances form an essential part of their sense of self. The emotional attachment you have to your victim story leads to the compulsion to think or talk about it.

In your dealings with people and you detect subtle feelings of either superiority or inferiority towards them you are looking at the ego, which lives through comparison. Envy is a by-product of the ego, which feels diminished if something good happens to someone else, or someone has more, knows more, or can do more than you. The ego’s identity depends on comparison and feeds on more. The ego needs to be in conflict with something or someone.

Is life ever not “this moment”? This one moment — Now- is the only thing you can never escape from. It’s always Now. Why not welcome it, become friendly with it? You will feel at home no matter where you are. The present moment is as it is. Always. Can you let it be?

To have your attention is the Now is not a denial of what is needed in your life. It is recognizing what is primary. Then you can deal with what is secondary with great ease.

The division of life into past, present, and future is mind-made and illusory. Past and future are thought forms. Since the future never arrives, except as the present, it is a dysfunctional way to live. It does not honor life, which is Now and never not Now.

When you know who you truly are, there is an abiding alive sense of peace. You could call it joy because that’s what joy is: vibrantly alive peace. Wherever you go, there you are. You are here. Always. Is it so hard to accept that?

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Ich STORMS

Genuine

There is nothing ike [a jor crisis to bring aut the goodness in people. There is a gu concern for others whenever the elements force coopera i people, Wheneyer a need to gather strength te combat a like foe tees is a @omate* that exists. This comrade- ship will exist so long as the problem or crisis remai Man's sense of humor is pernaps the strongest trait he has and it is so apparent whenever the need arises. I wonder how much humor would be present if a people would be under constant duress and pressure. However, the

humor will remove fear and anxiety and give reason to persist.

An example of a crisés presented itself on an early winter day to the peovle of Southern Illinois and Southern Missouri. More specifically, Godfrey Illinois, December 12, 1972.

A major ice storm moved through the area last night shutting off power, communications and most movement. The beauty of the ice is almost devastating. Thousands of pounds of ice clings to the fragile limbs

of trees, crab apples are suspended from ice incasings, unfallen leaves are frozen perfectly and the stillness is deafning. Ouietness is broken by the frequent popping shattering sound as a limm gives up the battle and secumbs to too much weight. A tree gces through an amputation so quickly and must face next Spring in disfigurement.

Nature is at its worst and best today. Last night and today a compassion for all the animals is shown. Signs of life arێ not apparent in the woods and fields. a

In the busy supermarket kind of existance that humans must subject themselves to in everday life, life has reverted to the country store atmosphere.

At the Bank.

The power is off! The phone doesn't ring! The electric typewriters are useless today. The marvelous electronic and power drive-in window tubes are quickly outdated in favor of a manual drive-in drawer. The high intensity lamp is pushed aside and one or two candles takes its place. Lumenouscity is down to windows allowing the darkish daylight in, and here and there a candle burns brightly.

The drone of a passing truck and the splashing of a car can be heard from the outside. The inside stillness is broken only by the souald of voices ov the rattle of paper. Furny how small. paper can suddenly make such bit noises. Shadowey figures move und the lobby in perfect quietness. Familiarity of shape is the only identity that they have.

The teller function of the bank is handled solely by id Kasten and with the trickle of customers there is no waiting line. Occasionally a car

s through the drive in and the transaction is completed manually and communication is vy yelling through thick safety proof glass. Hand turned

crank adaptions on the tkller machine dogs not stop the handling of customers.

TGR STORMS

ENVIAR There is nothing like [ najor crisis bo bring aut the goodness in people. There is a st Wthie concern for others wh x the elements

force cooperation amounny peoples, Mens yer a need to gather strength te combat a like foe there is a Gomane: is comrade~

ay Finat exists. T ship will exist so long as the problem or crisis remains Man's sense of humor is persps the strongest trait he has and it is so apparent wbenever the need arises. I wonder how much humor would be present if a people would be uncer constant duress and pressure. However, the hunor will remove fear and amdety and give reason to persist.

An example of a crisks presented itself on an early winter day to the peovle of Southern Illinois and Southern Jissouri. More specifically, Godfrey Illinois, December 12, 19726

A major ice storm moved through the area last night shutting off power, commnications and most movement. he beauty of the ice is almost devastating + Thousands of pounds of ice clings to the fragile limbs

of trees, crab apples are suspended from ice incasings, unfallen leaves are frozen perfectly and the stillness is deafning. Ouietness is broken by the frequent popping shattering sound as & inh gives up the battle and secumbs to too much weight. A tree & ah an amputation So quickly and must face next Spring in disf

Nature is at its worst and best today. Last n ht and today a compas si for all the animals is shown. Signs of life aré not apparent in the

2 a woods and fields.

In the busy supermarket kind of existance that jnmans must subject themselves to in everday Life, life has reverted to the country store atmosphers.

At the Bank.

The power is off} The phone doesn?t ring} The electric typewriters are useless today. The marvelous electronic and power drive-in window tubes are quickly outdated in favor of a manual drive-in drawer. The high juntensity lamp is pushed aside and one or tuo candles takes its place. Tumenouscity is down to windows allowing the daricish daylight in, and here and there a candle purns brightly.

The drone cf 4 passing truck and the splashing of a car can be heard from the outside. The inside stillness is broken only by the sould of voices or the rattle of paper Furny how small. paper can suddenly make such big noises. Shedowey figures move around the lobby in perfect quietness. Familiarity of shape is the only identity that they have

The teller function of the bank is handled solely by Bd Kasten and with the trickle of customers there is no waiting Tinee Occasionally 2 car comes through the drive in and the transaction is completed manually and commrication is + yelling through thick safety proof glass: Hand turned

crank adaptions on the teller machine dows not stop the handling of customers.

[Vol: Essays/Humor/History | ✍️ Handwritten | dated 3/3/[2023; written "2033"] | EMOTIONALLY SIGNIFICANT — kindness/grief] Today, Thurs. 3/3/[20]33, Tonya, my new professional home Cleaner, told me a story of Kindness. A 103[-year-old] gentleman slept in his Cushioned chair every night. His wife had died a few weeks before and he felt alone and couldn't Sleep in their bed. He was very Sad. Tonya told him She would Lie by him in his bed to Keep him Company until he went to Sleep. She put her pajamas and sleeping Socks on and Lay down next to him — not Touching. She did this as an act of Kindness. "It's what I thought — how much Someone wanted the Comfort of a friend." The 103-year-old fell asleep in a few days. The next day he thanked Tonya. He slept in his bed thereafter. He would die in Just a few days — in his sleep. I Teared. This was…

When changing, I seek to be straighter in my expression of feelings. Let me explain my thinking. Men generally consider their friends as any one they know that are not actively disliked. Broad scope, but manlike anyway

I’ve learned not to loan my friendship (I discard the “you owe me one and I owe you one thinking). There is no sense of obligation of the receiver or a feeling of superiority in the giver in true friendships. Authentic giving is possible, but only when authentic receiving is allowed too.

My son said he learned about gifting being equally satisfying as receiving from me. I’m proud of his statement. When he gives now, it is something he wants or likes himself. It is truly a gift then. He is a gift, not just to me, but to everyone in his life. He feels he is a gift too, and that’s a neat thought.

In my friendships and relationships I want to know the answers to questions: Is our value systems compatible?

Are we interested in each other’s activities?

Can we turn to each other for comfort?

Can we talk about things and ideas?

Can we have fun, feel free to express anger and affection?

Do we respond to each other straightforward?

Do we confront each other over controversial personal issues?

Do we derive strength from our meetings?

Typically we choose friends who do and think exactly (or nearly so) what we do and think. These confluent friendships provide no opening on the world, no abrasion against our frame of reference, which might lead to growth. I’ve reviewed my portfolio of friends in which I’m investing. Personal growth may mean outgrowing friends who want to and will anchor old behaviors and outlooks. I examine honestly whether the existing relationships are still supportive. If not, house cleaning and replacement are in order.

T have not deprived myself of friends by not recognizing them as a support system and by not using them in times of personal crisis. I have learned to share emotionally and not just talk about “things,” but about myself or about problems that pains me deeply And, I’ll not mention them only in passing, neither expecting nor eliciting a genuine response. Some emotional outlets can only be provided by friendship.

At work and also at play I observe myself performing skillfully at those endeavors that I pursue. I use images as guides for present and future performances. I see the golf ball going down the fairway, the ball heading for the hole, …just as I see the buyer and seller saying yes and an agreement is completed.

I’m not pretentious, untrustworthy, or obnoxious. I do look people in the eye. I don’t whisper, gawk, or look down. I look like I belong. My body and voice portray it. I don’t move away or flinch when people draw near, or when they touch me. I stand tall, (it’s not a matter of height) and walk with confidence. My voice is pitched comfortably low and resonates from my chest. My speech rhythm is fractionally slower than normal. I’m not bashful. It’s different than being shy. I show enthusiasm and vitality in meeting people.

My striving for authentic continues.

When changing, I seek to be straighter in my expression of feelings. Let me explain my thinking. Men generally consider their friends as any one they know that are not actively disliked. Broad scope, but manlike anyway.

I’ve learned not to loan my friendship (I discard the “you owe me one and I owe you one…” thinking). There is no sense of obligation of the receiver or a feeling of superiority in the giver in true friendships. Authentic giving is possible, but only when authentic receiving is allowed too.

& My son said he learned about gifting being equally satisfying as receiving from me. I’m proud of hiYstatement. When he gives now, it is something he wants or likes himself. It is truly a gift then. He is a gift, not just to me, but to everyone in his life. He feels he is a gift too, and that’s a neat thought.

In my friendships and relationships I want to know the answers to questions: Is our value systems compatible?

Are we interested in each other’s activities?

Can we turn to each other for comfort?

Can we talk about things and ideas?

Can we have fun, feel free to express anger and affection?

Do we respond to each other straightforward?

Do we confront each other over controversial personal issues?

Do we derive strength from our meetings?

Typically we choose friends who do and think exactly (or nearly so) what we do and think. These confluent friendships provide no opening on the world, no abrasion against our frame of reference, which might lead to growth. I’ve reviewed my portfolio of friends in which I’m investing. Personal growth may mean outgrowing friends who want to and will anchor old behaviors and outlooks. I examine honestly whether the existing relationships are still supportive. If not, house cleaning and replacement are in order.

I have not deprived myself of friends by not recognizing them as a support system and by not using them in times of personal crisis. I have learned to share emotionally and not just talk about “things,” but about myself or about problems that pains me deeply And, I'll not mention them only in passing. neither expecting nor eliciting a genuine response. Some emotional outlets can only be provided by friendship.

At work and also at play I observe myself performing skillfully at those endeavors that I pursue. I use images as guides for present and future performances. I see the golf ball going down the fairway, the ball heading for the hole, …just as I see the buyer and seller saying yes and an agreement is completed.

I’m not pretentious, untrustworthy, or obnoxious. I do look people in the eye. I don’t whisper, gawk, or look down. I look like I belong. My body and voice portray it. I don’t move away or flinch when people draw near, or when they touch me. | stand tall, (it’s not a matter of height) and walk with confidence. My voice is pitched comfortably low and resonates from my chest. My speech rhythm is fractionally slower than normal. I’m not bashful. It’s different than being shy. I show enthusiasm and vitality in meeting people.

My striving for authentic continues.

"Thatethisgame." "Tlovethisgame."

Importance placed on something that tends to strain or deform the body.

A mental or emotionally disruptive or upsetting condition occurring in response to adverse external influences.

Characterized by increased heart rate,A rise in blood pressure, Muscular tension, and irritability.

Symptoms: Sphincter tightness A cotton mouth Shortness of breath, as in choking Sweating, farting, spitting Bursts of profanity Twitching eyelids Sentence fragmentations

STRETCH To make taut (think jaws) To enlarge beyond usual limits (think nostrils) To expand (think head) To extend over a period of time (think 18 holes)

STRIF A struggle; a competition between rivals

PRESSING ¢ Urgent demand ¢ To force ¢ Steam at high temperature

PRESTIGE The level of respect at which one is Regarded by others.

TONIC Invigorating, refreshing, or restorative agent or influence (liquor beer, tobacco, a full house, gin, par)

WIT Natural ability to perceive or understand, Keenness and quickness of perception

The ability to express in an ingeniously humorous manner The relationship between seemingly incongruous or disparate things.

Sometimes remains alert or calm (or fakes it) especially In a crisis, and sees humor

In projectile dysfunction—as in golf.

STRESS

Importance placed on something that tends to strain or deform the body.

A mental or emotionally disruptive or upsetting condition occurring in response to adverse external influences.

Characterized by increased heart rate,A rise in blood pressure, Muscular tension, and irritability.

Symptoms: Sphincter tightness A cotton mouth Shortness of breath, as in choking Sweating, farting, spitting Bursts of profanity Twitching eyelids Sentence fragmentations

STRETCH To make taut (think jaws) To enlarge beyond usual limits (think nostrils) To expand (think head) To extend over a period of time (think 18 holes)

STRIFI A struggle; a competition between rivals

PRESSING e Urgent demand ° To force e Steam at high temperature

"Thatethisgame.” PRESTIGE "Plovethisgame.” The level of respect at which one is Regarded by others.

TONIC Invigorating, refreshing, or restorative agent or influence (liquor ,beer, tobacco, a full house, gin, par) wit Natural ability to perceive or understand, Keenness and quickness of perception

The ability to express in an ingeniously humorous manner The relationship between seemingly incongruous or disparate things.

Sometimes remains alert or calm (or fakes it) especially Ina crisis, and sees humor

In projectile dysfunction—as in golf.

Stuff about stuff. You love stuff. It makes you happy. You love getting a good deal on stuff. Stuff makes your house feel cozy, except when it doesn’t. Same with stuff you wear. Looks great when you see it in the store, but it may be closet bound when you get it home. It’s the same with anything. You might have more than one of something and you never know when you need a back up.

Your closet is full, shoe rack too, and photos, candles, collectibles, trinkets, well, they seem to multiply. Magnets on the fridge, socks, scarves, gloves, and small tools seem to multiply. Would you miss your stuff or can you breathe without all of it? | totally understand how hard it is to let stuff go. Will we ever be overstuffed? | think so. | want my home to be a place where people | love can gather. | want everyone to feel welcome and right-at-home when they walk through the doorway.

What is the purpose of your home? More importantly, is its purpose what you want it to be? | don’t want my home to be sterile that people are afraid to touch anything, but | don’t want it messy. | want a relaxed feeling, not tense. | like sharp lines, art, color (lean to white/black/grey/green.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that I am somewhere between being stylistically together or stylistically amiss. We spend too much time looking at the beer in supermarkets. Our clothes are a shade tight for our flabby bodies. We believe we are not ready to wear relaxed fit pants even when knowing they would make us happier.

A haircut that cost more than $13.00 is too much. We own more than two hooded sweat shirts lots of t-shirts more than five years old. A night out requires clean jeans and a collared shirt with a stain on the front pocket, but we’re about 70% sure nobody can see it. This is not true, everybody can see it. It’s amazing how much time frees up when you’re not shopping for clothes.

I know I’m too old to wear cargo pants. I like them. I’m OK with logos on my togs but need to limit them. I don’t own a cowboy hat or boots. I have a black-cotton vest, but I don’t wear it with a t-shirt. ] have novelty socks, and they are between 100% and 100% chance they are horrible, plus, I can also lose them.

I can only try to dress as though I’m looking like I meant to do it. It requires no expertise, just enough confidence that whatever I’m wearing, I intended to wear.

As I grew older I didn’t compromise my values. I decided to always live with a purpose remaining motivated and committed to a vision impervious to compromise and to live my life different thén the way I did.

People matter Truth wins Authentic attracts Generosity returns Courage sustains Quality speaks

These beliefs don’t sound innovative. They are simple, almost too simple. I think that is why they are so powerful. What drives most people is purpose.

Live good,

Shan, you have endured more pain, prejudice, saw more hate and injustice than anyone I know. You have also loved deeper and enjoyed life as you inspired those who know and love you. Ido. Dad

As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that I am somewhere between being stylistically together or stylistically amiss. We spend too much time looking at the beer in supermarkets. Our clothes are a shade tight for our flabby bodies. We believe we are not ready to wear relaxed fit pants even when knowing they would make us happier.

A haircut that cost more than $13.00 is too much. We own more than two hooded sweat shirts lots of t-shirts more than five years old. A night out requires clean jeans and a collared shirt with a stain on the front pocket, but we’re about 70% sure nobody can see it. This is not true, everybody can see it. It’s amazing how much time frees up when you’re not shopping for clothes.

I know I’m too old to wear cargo pants. I like them. I’m OK with logos on my togs but need to limit them. I don’t own a cowboy hat or boots. I have a black-cotton vest, but I don’t wear it with a t-shirt. I have novelty socks, and they are between 100% and 100% chance they are horrible, plus, I can also lose them.

I can only try to dress as though I’m looking like I meant to do it. It requires no expertise, just enough confidence that whatever I’m wearing, I intended to wear.

As I grew older I didn’t compromise my values. I decided to always live with a purpose remaining motivated and committed to a vision impervious to compromise and to live my life different thén the way I did.

People matter Truth wins Authentic attracts Generosity returns Courage sustains Quality speaks

These beliefs don’t sound innovative. They are simple, almost too simple. I think that is why they are so powerful. What drives most people is purpose.

Live good,

Shan, you have endured more pain, prejudice, saw more hate and injustice than anyone I know. You have also loved deeper and enjoyed life as you inspired those who know and love you. I do. Dad

As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that 1 am somewhere between being stylistically together or stylistically amiss. Older people spend too much time looking at the beer in supermarkets. Our clothes are a shade tight for our flabby bodies. We believe we are not ready to wear relaxed fit pants even when knowing they would make us happier.

A haircut that cost more than $13.00 is too much. We own more than two hooded sweat shirts and lots of t-shirts more than five years old. A night out requires clean jeans and a collared shirt with a stain on the front pocket, but we’re about 70% sure nobody can see it. This is not true, everybody can see it.

I know I’m too old to wear cargo pants. | like them. I’m OK with logos on my togs but need to limit them. I don’t own a cowboy hat or boots. I have a black -suit vest, but I don’t wear it with a t-shirt. I have novelty socks, and they are between 100% and 100% chance they are horrible. I can only try to dress as though I’m looking like I meant to do it. It requires no expertise, just enough confidence that whatever I’m wearing, | intended to wear.

As I grew older I kept my values. I decided early to live with a purpose; remaining motivated and committed to a vision impervious to compromise and to live with principles that sustain me:

People matter Truth wins Authentic attracts Generosity returns Courage sustains Quality speaks

These beliefs don’t sound innovative. They are simple. | think that is why they are so powerful. What drives most people is purpose.

Live good, Dad

Shan, you have endured more pain, prejudice, saw more hate and injustice than anyone I know. You have also loved deeper and enjoyed life as you inspired those who know and love you. I do. Dad

As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that I am somewhere between being stylistically together or stylistically amiss. Older people spend too much time looking at beer in supermarkets. Our clothes are a shade tight for our flabby bodies. We believe we are not ready to wear relaxed fit pants even when knowing they would make us happier.

A haircut that cost more than $13.00 is too much. We own more than two hooded sweat shirts and lots of t-shirts more than five years old. A night out requires clean jeans and a collared shirt with a stain on the front pocket, but we’re about 70% sure nobody can see it. This is not true, everybody can see it.

I know I’m too old to wear cargo pants. I like them. I’m OK with logos on my togs but need to limit them. I don’t own a cowboy hat or boots. I havea black -suit vest, but I don’t wear it with a t-shirt. I have novelty socks, and they are between 99% and 100% chance they are horrible. I can only try to dress as though I’m looking like I meant to do it. It requires no expertise, just confidence that whatever I’m wearing, I intended to wear.

As I grew older I kept my values. I decided early to live with a purpose; remaining motivated and committed to a vision impervious to compromise and to live with principles that sustain me:

People matter Truth wins Authentic attracts Generosity returns Courage sustains Quality speaks

These beliefs don’t sound innovative. They are simple. I think that is why they are so powerful. What drives most people is purpose.

Live good,

Dad

Shan, you have endured more pain, prejudice, saw more hate and injustice than anyone I know. You have also loved deeper and enjoyed life as you inspired those who know and love you. Ido. Dad

As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that I am somewhere between being stylistically together or stylistically amiss. Older people spend too much time looking at beer in supermarkets. Our clothes are a shade tight for our flabby bodies. We believe we are not ready to wear relaxed fit pants even when knowing they would make us happier. A haircut that cost more than $13.00 is too much. We own more than two hooded sweat shirts and lots of t-shirts more than five years old. A night out requires clean jeans and a collared shirt with a stain on the front pocket, but we’re about 70% sure nobody can see it. This is not true, everybody can see it. I know I’m too old to wear cargo pants. I like them. I’m OK with logos on my togs but need to limit them. I don’t own a cowboy hat or boots. I have a black -suit vest, but I don’t wear it with a t-shirt. I have novelty socks, and they are between 99% and 100% chance they are horrible. I can only try to dress as though I’m looking like I meant to do it. It requires no expertise, just confidence that whatever I’m wearing, I intended to wear. As I grew older I kept my values. I decided early to live with a purpose; remaining motivated and committed to a vision impervious to compromise and to live with principles that sustain me: People matter Truth wins Authentic attracts Generosity returns Courage sustains Quality speaks These beliefs don’t sound innovative. They are simple. I think that is why they are so powerful. What drives most people is purpose. Live good, Dad Shan, you have endured more pain, prejudice, saw more hate and injustice than anyone I know. You have also loved deeper and enjoyed life as you inspired those who know and love you. I do. Dad

Summer – 2013 “When you are going through hell, keep going.” Winston Churchill

My glass is half-empty. My pen has no ink; I’m out of paper; my clothes have no crease; my shoes are not shined, and my hair is unruly. I’m not hungry. I haven’t had a cherry pie or a cheese cake in a year. The last hole in my belt is over used. My shirts are wrinkled and loose. My tic-tac life drains my creative urges. I try to get tired to excuse myself for not being a spark.

But flowers bloom; the wind and rain entertain me and humming birds appreciate my sharing sugar with them. I send messages that end in “love, John” and no one notices.

Love, John

The letter has no date and it was never sent to anyone. It was written early in the timeline of my health decline. I sank. I was scraping along. Up with that, I will not put. I want to know what I am made of. Find a teacher; for when the student is ready, a teacher will appear.

I will not speak of darker days, but of sterner days. These are not darker days, these are great days. Live dangerously, take things as they come, fear naught, all will be well. I may be emotional and weep easily, but my tears soon dry as joy come flooding back. I draw strength from people.

Summer – 2013 “When you are going through hell, keep going.” Winston Churchill

My glass is half-empty. My pen has no ink; I’m out of paper; my clothes have no crease; my shoes are not shined, and my hair is unruly. I’m not hungry. I haven’t had a cherry pie or a cheese cake in a year. The last hole in my belt is over used. My shirts are wrinkled and loose. My tic-tac life drains my creative urges. I try to get tired to excuse myself for not being a spark.

But flowers bloom; the wind and rain entertain me and humming birds appreciate my sharing sugar with them. I send messages that end in “love, John” and no one notices.

Love, John

The letter has no date and it was never sent to anyone. It was written early in the timeline of my health decline. I sank. I was scraping along. Up with that, I will not put. I want to know what I am made of. Find a teacher; for when the student is ready, a teacher will appear.

I will not speak of darker days, but of sterner days. These are not darker days, these are great days. Live dangerously, take things as they come, fear naught, all will be well. I may be emotional and weep easily, but my tears soon dry as joy come flooding back. I draw strength from people.

Summer's Game of Baseball

Three young fresh faced boys came to my door last week, and almost in unison, asked for a donation that would go to the baseball program at Alton High School. After asking them about themselves and their program | promised | would make a donation.

Baseball was my passion when | was their age and remains my favorite sport — next to golf. | told them a short one story of a remarkable Khory League team in the late 70’s. At the first meeting to organize teams. It was apparent most of the boys were pre chosen for a team by managers and coaches from select neighborhoods. This was not so with the group of left over boys selected on our team. Our team of scruffy boys came from all over Alton-Godfrey and hardly any one of them knew another boy on his team and very little about baseball. | was the coach, not the manager and my job was to teach rudiments of the game.

All of the boys showed up for the first two practices at the ball diamond at St. Ambrose Church. We talked baseball talk and walked around the baseball field and the positions of players. The last 15 minutes was spent on playing catch, shagging grounders, and running races. The manager and | selected positions for the players and would announce them at final practice. Sure enough, everyone showed up and team jerseys were given out; smiles and laughter was sure joy for all of us. We played a mock baseball game and it was hilarious, nerve racking, and dangerous for everyone but we managed nary a scratch.

The team did their best, but was soundly beaten in the first two games. The manager quit amd | became the manager. Early practice was spent on skill development and practice was for drills. Everyone got better and loved the sport. They lost again and again, but continued to show up. Late in the summer with only a few games left to play our third baseman, Danny, looked a bit dazed in warm up. In the first inning a hard line drive whizzed by Danny’s left ear and Danny did not move. | immediately called time out and went out to see Danny and asked if he had seen the ball go by him. He said, no. | asked an umpire if Danny could come out of the game for a few minutes and still be allowed to go back in. The two umpires got together and said it was OK as the game had just started.

Danny sat by me on the bench. | asked that he watch the ball in play and to tell me where it was when | asked. He did just fine and was allowed to return to the game in the third inning. We lost a close game. Afterwards | talked to Danny’s mom and told her about the incident, thinking he may have been sick and just pushed himself to play. The next day Danny’s mom called and said she had taken Danny to

Sylvia Jobe was my mom’s best friend and mom was hers. Sylvia was a Methodist, my mom was a Baptist, but they seemed to know the same God and Jesus.

Sylvia was married to Barber Jobe and was “tater’s” and Neil’s mother. Barber Jobe was the town drunk and he cut my hair for 50 cents. They were bad haircuts, but that is another story. Tater was a good baseball pitcher with a knuckle ball and Neil was tall and quiet.

Sylvia lived in a small white house next to the Tunnel Hill Baptist Church. The McHugh house stood between her house and our big old two-story house, the northern most house in Tunnel Hill.

There was probably only one day of the week when my mom and Sylvia didn’t visit. It was Sunday.

Sylvia was just a bit older than mom, but it was a woman to woman friendship that they had for over 50 years. My mom needed a friend like Sylvia that her husband and children couldn’t supply. It was a friendship of understanding, love and fun. Sylvia needed a friend like my mom too, who would supply support, comfort and probably quiet advice, each to the other.

They felt each other’s emotions, trusted each other and knew the other was a beautiful person. Sylvia Jobe and my mom would be proud that someone recognized their special friendship.

John Casey 11-09-2001

The original page will appear here.

Sylvia Jobe

Sylvia Jobe was my mom’s best friend and mom was hers. Sylvia was a Methodist, my mom was a Baptist, but they seemed to know the same God and Jesus.

Sylvia was married to Barber Jobe and was “tater’s” and Neil’s mother. Barber Jobe was the town drunk and he cut my hair for 50 cents. They were bad haircuts, but that is another story. Tater was a good baseball pitcher with a knuckle ball and Neil was tall and quiet.

Sylvia lived in a small white house next to the Tunnel Hill Baptist Church. The McHugh house stood between her house and our big old two-story house, the northern most house in Tunnel Hill.

There was probably only one day of the week when my mom and Sylvia didn’t visit. It was Sunday.

Sylvia was just a bit older than mom, but it was a woman to woman friendship that they had for over 50 years. My mom needed a friend like Sylvia that her husband and children couldn’t supply. It was a friendship of understanding, love and fun. Sylvia needed a friend like my mom too, who would supply support, comfort and probably quiet advice, each to the other.

They felt each other’s emotions, trusted each other and knew the other was a beautiful person. Sylvia Jobe and my mom would be proud that someone recognized their special friendship.

John Casey 11-09-2001

The original page will appear here.

The original page will appear here.

2 days

It is curious that most of the time it was easy to spot the Rebel from the Union soldier in death. The Rebel was usually pale, almost yellow, while the Union soldier was black or reddened and bloated. It was due to the diet.

Germans, (30,000 alone from Missouri), Irish, Scott, French, Spanish, Italian, Swiss, Dutch, Welch, Mexican, Russian, Blacks and Native Indians fought in the war. Of the just over 3,000 Native Indians, more than 1100 died, a percentage that exceeded any other sector.

Of the 2,700,000 Union soldiers about 100,000 were 15 and under; 300 under 13 and 25 were 10 or under. 46,000 were over 25 and 16,000 over 44. The Confederate army was slightly older on the average.

Interesting items: Jackson’s (Stonewall) left arm is in a fully marked grave near Chancellorsville, Va. He was shot by one of his own troops there and the arm was amputated. He died a short time later. Jackson’s 22 month army career was full of valor and bravery, perhaps more than any other soldier in the war. He was wounded in the hand at First Manassas, apparently because his hand was held high for body balance. A doctor was about to amputate a finger and when the doctor turned his head, Jackson left the area. Jackson usually was in an upright manner, and sat his saddle tall. He had no chairs in his study and usually read books standing up. Jackson wanted to keep his organs held “naturally.” He loved lemons.

Inventions and innovations:

Submarine, Snorkel, Periscope in trenches, field trenches, flame throwers, wire entanglements, aerial reconnaissance, repeating rifles, telescopic sights for rifles, fixed ammunition, a steel ship, hospital ships, machine gun (1861 “ coffee mill”); U.S. Secret Service, income and withholding tax, American conscription (the draft), American bread lines, The Medal of Honor, photography of battle, black U.S. Army Officer, camouflage, and “taps.”

The Union Army refused the Spencer repeating rifle in 1861 because it would shoot fast and waste ammunition.

It took about the same amount of lead as the weight of one Union solder to kill him in battle: 150 LB man = 150 Ib. Lead. For each Confederate killed the Union used 240 Ibs. of powder and 900 LB of lead.

The Battle at Gettysburg started because some of the solders on both sides needed shoes. The Confederates attacked from the North and the Union defended the South in this battle. Direction, that is.

Sharpsburg/Atietam was started because a careless Confederate dropped 3 cigars wrapped in the orders from Lee. McClellan attacked in this battle, but withdrew after the middle of the 2 day and let Lee escape with his army. Lincoln issued the Proclamation anyway, citing that the battle was not actually lost by the Union.

Nathan Bedford Forrest had 29 horses shot from under him and he was reported to have killed 31 men. “I’m two up, counting horses,” he is reported to have said.” Also, the winner of a battle is “the one there furstest with the mostest.” He went to war as a millionaire and a private and left the war as a bankrupt General. He became the first KKK leader.

A long post from Texas was forwarded to me and ended, “If you don’t send this to people you know, you are the problem.” I’ll send Wil a birthday card. I normally cook 2 times a day and have made meals to put in the fridge to eat later. 3-day limit and if not eaten it goes. Shan sends me FRESHLY MEALS (THAT’S THE NAME OF THE COMPANY.They are loaded with calories – 450-760. and almost good. I had one for breakfast. Arthritis in my joints, fingers, wrist, shoulder, knees and feet kicks my ass some days. I weigh about the weight I was in grade school. My feet drag as I shuffle along slowly. I’m hoping to quicken my pace and keep my head up. The woman who lives downstairs is as mean as Florence Casey. I avoid her and will ignore her. I have played a few games of golf with buds and had fun, but was dragging when I finished. I’m trying to make adjustments and find ways to overcome the arthritis problem when I swing. My story book is in final stages and hopefully will be finished in a few months. I’ve got about 600-800 stories and essays. Shan doesn’t want me to toss them. I have a copy of your high school transcript ( Subjects, grades, teachers). You were a good student. But I don’t know where they are and would have to dig for them. Not now. Love. Take care of yourself and others. John

SCHNUCKS GODFREY STORE MANAGER – Tina Robenstine

| checked out at 3:39 P.M. on 10-21-2.

| was delighted with my purchases, and the great deal on wines. | bought six bottles.

When | got home | checked the receipt and planned to tell my friends about the terrific sale on wine. A surprise item on the receipt was H&B Ham chunks for $7.99.

| did not see a ring up of a fried chicken breast for $3.99.

| don’t eat ham, | do eat chicken. I’m almost 81 and have not purchased ham in several years. It is not recommended due to my health. | didn’t go near the ham department. Every chicken breast efehieken is weighed and every time, the cost is $2.99. Why weigh them? | do like them.

It is a mystery about the ring-up of ham and not a ring-up of chicken. Could it be a clerk error? Was it an error of the checker?

| know it is only a $5.00 error, but the time and effort to carefully check every item | purchase at Schnucks in the future disappoints me. But I'll do it, because | believe you have a good store.

O ayer

Joh O

435 1/2 Bluff St. Alton, IL 62002

SCHUNCKS

Management: We don’t see you but we see what you do. Thanks.

Staff: We see you when we go there and think you are all great. Thanks.

The leadership of Schuncks is vested in responsible and respectful men and women. Their decisions are made by tough minded individuals who care for everyone by responding to the needs of customers and staff.

When I wear a mask I’m protecting you; when you wear a mask you

are protecting me. Together we are strong.

Please keep encouraging everyone to think of others and to be unselfish and gracious. Traits I admire and appreciate. –

9 Cay) o eocanis! Abas ss Spbpetain OE. . — Magh, Tlisws 10 | Runes >) wae Ural Lp nahn DL BEES of fo $ ype

vie ACL

An 18-year-old boy obviously had a plan to shoot people when he turned 18 – 2 days prior to buying his first gun. (what day of the week ?)

The gun merchant sold him an AR-15 and bullets. The boy returned to the store and bought another AR-15 and 350 bullets.

The price of the gun – estimated at $700-$800 – double it for two = $1400-$1600 – and 400 bullets – 50 and 350 – 400 x 25 cents = $100 = taxes… $2,000 becomes a estimated cost.

Why did the merchant not ask or question the puzzling purchase?

The boy (may or may not) worked at a fast-food restaurant. His grandmother may have been the source. So he shot her in her face and killed her.

The NRA is holding its Annual Convention in Tulsa this weekend (Memorial Day is 5/31, Monday). Donald Trump will attend. No guns will be allowed at the convention. I don't believe that at all.

A 1950 model transistor radio picks up the Cardinal games that I enjoy listening to. A book and a light are there on the porch for me as well as a comfortable swing. I feed humming birds and enjoy them immensely and can recognize some of them from the last year. In the summer they are there when I wake up and don’t leave until late dusk, I’ve tired to be still enough for them to land on my finger or red cap, but so far no luck. I have written about them as though they are my friends.

I love this old house and its trees, and I enjoy the sweet decadence of the neighborhood. It gives me a special appreciation of each thing’s uniqueness. Here, right here, this particular place exists in its own way and will one day die. Stately old houses and fading trees burn their brightest before they yield to time. We are sad for the going but exhilarated over the beauty of their existence.

John Casey

435 4 Bluff St.

Alton, IL 62002 618-670-5646 Ircasey134\ ail.com 793

The accident in 1961 was horrific. I was north bound on Rte. 4 on my way to Springfield after a visit to my family home in Tunnel Hill. It was late afternoon on a cool clear autum day. The pavement was dry. As I was cresting a small hill a few miles north of Caryle, I saw a pick up truck speeding toward the intersection at 4 & Keysport Rd. from my right. The truck was traveling west. If he braked, I would have veered left and would likely slipped by — I did not see any vehicle coming towards me in the left lane — but if he kept coming at the same rate I had to hold straight, or brake and veer slightly right hoping to miss the truck. There was a deep ditch and a service station on my right (NE corner). My passenger was not aware of anything as he was engrossed in a magazine. The truck did not slow, in fact it speeded up, and I turned my body to the right and covered my friend just before impact. My car, a 1958 Pontiac was heavy, about 4400 pounds, and had a massive chrome bumper and high fenders. It hit the lighter pick-up truck just behind the passenger door and where the truck bed was attached.

The car spun around completely and ended partially in the narrow median of the north bound lane near the ditch. The car faced south. I looked at my friend and asked if he was OK. He said yes. I felt pain in my knee, but otherwise believed I was OK. We bailed out quickly. I fell when I exited the car as my knee collapsed. We did not immediately see the truck. I recall two people had come out of the station (they had heard the crash) and they looked at me and my friend and asked if we were OK. Then, they said, “get off the road — get over here.” We did.

Ina few seconds the people who had came out saw the truck and we (me, my friend and the two from the station) walked over towards it. We saw one man tangled in a barbed wire fence (he was the driver) and another man was lying next to the north side of Keysport road. He was dead. The two from the station hurried back to the station to call an ambulance.

A police officer arrived with the ambulance and investigated the scene and talked to me and my friend. After the ambulance left, the officer suggested that I go to the hospital and get checked. I had called a friend in Springfield about the accident and asked him if he would come and pick us up. We waited with the police officer until my friend arrived. The officer recommended that I be taken to the hospital for a check up and I agreed to go.

At the hospital my leg was ex-rayed and a broken knee cap was discovered. I would stay overnight and have a cast put on the next morning. I was released the same day and would be picked up again and driven to Springfield.

The driver of the truck would be given a citation for failure to stop.

The intersection was a dangerous one due to the hill, the ditch and the service station. The people in the in station said there had been several wrecks there. Since then I have driven by the intersection and the road and vision has been improved. The station is no longer there.

This accident is the only one I have been involved in as a driver. Since the accident I have always ‘looked right’ first when coming into an intersection and recall the scene of that 1961 accident. I am an extremely vigil driver as a result of that accident.

The 2nd Amendment has nothing to do with deer hunting! 53 million people in the U.S. have a mental health issue. American gun facts.

fpaigh

The 31st IL fought at Ingrum Heights, the battle of Raymond, and the battle of Jackson, followed by the battle of Champion’s Hill. On the 19th of May the 31st IL reached Vicksburg. The Vicksburg Campaign Vb . proved to be costly from both sides, especially for the 31st IL Inf.. Many of the 31st would pay the ultimate price, including Capt. Levi B. Casey.

On my high school Senior Trip (Vienna — 1958) our group visited Vicksburg. I was 17, but would have been war age had it been 1863. I was more interested in pretty classmates than the battlefield. However, I recall the magnificent Illinois Monument and finding Levi B. Casey’s name on the interior wall of the monument. It was near the name of Albert Cashier, a private who was from Chicago. There is a very interesting story about Private Cashier. When the war in America broke out Albert was in Ireland visiting Jenny, his Irish sweetheart and fiancée. After learning the Civil War had started, Albert decided rather than get married he would return to America and join the Union Army. Albert became suddenly sick and died before he could board a ship to America. \ Jenny took his name and boarded the ship with a ticket that Albert had ow . purchased, and came ‘home’ and joined the Union army as Albert Cashier. Jenny (Albert) fought with the Illinois troops in Vicksburg and survived. She died in Chicago sometime in the 1920’s.

I’ve been to Vicksburg three times since 1958. My last trip was in 1989 and I was looking for information on Levi Burnside Casey. My search took me to the 31st’s camp at the north west edge of the Union right wing at Vicksburg on June 22, 1863.

The Crater

The attempt to take Fort Hill had been ongoing for longer than a month. The Confederate fortifications were nearly impregnable. A decision was made to dig a mine (tunnel) to the Confederate position a mere 75/150 yards away and place a charge that would rupture their defenses. Thirty coal miners from Southern Illinois volunteered to dig the tunnel at the approach to the Third Louisiana Redan, an earthen fortress with three sides, located at the north east edge of the Confederate line.

The construction began on June 23, 1863 and was finished by 4 noon on the 25t, It was easy to dig in the strange dirt called loess, : found only in a few places on earth. The tunnel was five foot high and four feet wide. When the tunnel was finished, the troops placed 2200 pounds of dynamite in it and attached a slow burning hemp wick to the dynamite. A decision was made to set off the charge and troops were readied to charge into action and break the confused Confederate line expecting it to collapse. Then, in the chaos, the Union troups would

The original page will appear here.

The apartment has 15 doors and 17 windows. | unstuck several windows that were painted shut by lead based paint. | checked all windows for lead-based paint and scraped and cleaned the window edges.

The kitchen is small. | cook almost every day. | wash and dry dishes daily. | own my stove and refrigerator. The food closet is decluttered. Both the walls and counters have been painted. | bought a updated faucet that was installed.

In the anti room (next to the kitchen and door leading to Stairs) | used a strong floor cleaner and after scrubbing it it was painted the same color as the kitchen floor. There are two windows in the back stairs landing. One is not working.

When my health was good | enjoyed being outside and working in the yard or garden. The garden had terrific soil that was created by mixing manure collected from a barnyard of my friend, with mulch and fertilizers. It was a bountiful garden. | bought mowers, (several, including an electric one) and kept them in good shape. Tools included shears, pruners, rakes, shovels, edgers and hoes. The lawn was fertilized and blue grass was sown and became the primary grass. Weeds were pulled or sprayed with weed killer. Overhanging tree branches were pruned and vines on the almost dead maple tree were trimmed back. The sidewalk and path were edged, and debris removed from the drainage along the curb on Mamie Street. The lawn became lush. There always seemed an abundance of leaves piled up and had to be raked and put into bags for pickup.

| parked in the garage, often. I’ve owned five automobiles since | have lived here. A Camry, Oldsmobile, Ford Scout, Mercury Cougar and a BMW 128’ coupe which | have now. | parked on the South side of the garage. | kept the floor of the garage clean. My tools and mowers were stored in the back area of the garage.

Health issues ended my gardening, the site is now rocked. | don’t park in the garage. | was told by HER that I did not have a right to park there. HER said she only had parking rights to the garage. She told a neighbor this and the neighbor told me that she told him that she paid a premium over the rent for use of the garage. HER parks in front of the apartment house along Bluff Street. A large area on the north side of the garage floor are dark blotches that appear to be fluid from HER’S car. Her has not parked in the garage for weeks.

The apartment has 15 doors and 17 windows. I unstuck several windows that were painted shut by lead based paint. I checked all windows for lead-based paint and scraped and cleaned the window edges. The kitchen is small. I cook almost every day. I wash and dry dishes daily. I own my stove and refrigerator. The food closet is decluttered. Both the walls and counters have been painted. I bought a updated faucet that was installed. In the anti room (next to the kitchen and door leading to stairs) I used a strong floor cleaner and after scrubbing it it was painted the same color as the kitchen floor. There are two windows in the back stairs landing. One is not working. When my health was good I enjoyed being outside and working in the yard or garden. The garden had terrific soil that was created by mixing manure collected from a barnyard of my friend, with mulch and fertilizers. It was a bountiful garden. I bought mowers, (several, including an electric one) and kept them in good shape. Tools included shears, pruners, rakes, shovels, edgers and hoes. The lawn was fertilized and blue grass was sown and became the primary grass. Weeds were pulled or sprayed with weed killer. Overhanging tree branches were pruned and vines on the almost dead maple tree were trimmed back. The sidewalk and path were edged, and debris removed from the drainage along the curb on Mamie Street. The lawn became lush. There always seemed an abundance of leaves piled up and had to be raked and put into bags for pickup. I parked in the garage, often. I’ve owned five automobiles since I have lived here. A Camry, Oldsmobile, Ford Scout, Mercury Cougar and a BMW 128’ coupe which I have now. I parked on the South side of the garage. I kept the floor of the garage clean. My tools and mowers were stored in the back area of the garage. Health issues ended my gardening, the site is now rocked. I don’t park in the garage. I was told by HER that I did not have a right to park there. HER said she only had parking rights to the garage. She told a neighbor this and the neighbor told me that she told him that she paid a premium over the rent for use of the garage. HER parks in front of the apartment house along Blu! Street. A large area on the north side of the garage floor are dark blotches that appear to be fluid from HER’S car. Her has not parked in the garage for weeks.

The Manhattan Project (the A-tom Bomb, under a cloak of disguise) developed a Nuclear Bomb in 1945. Upon being notified of the existence of the bomb, President Harry Truman – who had been sworn in only a few days after President Franklin Roosevelt died – approved the bombing of Japan, Hiroshima. It led to Japan surrendering, ending, unofficially, WWII. Japan signed the surrender papers on [the] 6th of August 1945. [- it took a great deal of time and effort to build a bomb.] It saved millions of lives. * – It could have possibly ended life on Earth.

Ted Cruz – 'prayer tweet': 'Heidi & I are frequently lifting up in prayer the children and families in the horrific shooting in Uvalde. We are in close contact with local officials, but the price [precise?] details are still unfolding. [Our?] thanks to heroic law enforcement & first responders for acting so swiftly.' 2:59 PM – May 24, 2022. [margin: 'Not likely' / 'Texas Religion']

They did nothing except surround the building for 1 hour. No heros. No compassion. – He is a Jerk of Self Serving. He's an embarrassment. Democrats should print this – Cruz Prayer.

Z, THE BEST GIFT EVER aM Mid 2, 202,

DECLUTTERING my apt was a goal when | begin in earnest five . weeks ago. | live ina ugly house; my apartment is beautiful. aii ied | committed it to make a place | was proud to call home. And, Itold others about the goal, that signified a commitment was made to hold me to the pledge. tasked for ideas from friends and people who might have suggestions. For sure, my health led me to think differently about how | was living, thad become trapped ina patter of routines. A “poor me,” syndrome led me to think !’ll never get better it will get worse. And, | didn’t get better and it did get worse. Just before | was scheduled to go for a visit to see my son and Jay in Boston two months ago, ! became very sick. My doctor advised against it and said “the trip may be too difficult for you.” Icrashed. | sank. On sunny days | stayed at home; when it rained | watched it from my porch. 1 Felt sorry for myself. | distanced from Hane. ! paint rocks in all colors. | write messages on them, and names, and dates. | put them in my tiny follower garden, and | take a few with me when I run errands. I’ve given them to strangers, clerks, nurses. . we tigi thts wi nee ine were. gil pis, Boks, — of Aber 19 7H Cirbettcl — “qloat ‘

Desars lei! & chatupoord 7 ;

Fea a inh

To dull the pain and fight fatigue and insomnia ! began popping, pills and slipped into a fog, of self pity. | needed to stop dwelling on myself if | was ever going to heal. AT first | had doubts. t could barely get out of bed and felt | had nothing to offer the world.

| made a conscious effort to give things away and shift focus to others. That would allow something positive to happen. Gifts don't have to be material things. A smile, or praise would do. The key was to be mindful about it. | would have to mean it. | needed to be sensitive to others. And distance myself from toxic people.

It was’na clanging, of bells or hallelujahs, or a eureka moment that changed my outlook. tt was more like shadows ina woods, ripples inthe water, and reflections that awoke me.

| changed doctors. It helped. My son said he wanted me to write my story. I’ve been doing that. The key; it’s OK to care about ourselves ; but it’s better if you care about others. It is not a swap. There are no comparisons.

t have less material items and more kindness. | feel better. |

am free. Time is dear to me.

There is some recklessness in me these days.

I give my opinion freely and don't expect arguments, although the opinions may not be conventional thinking. Cosmic? There is a great deal of emotion in my words or voice. | am trying to listen to me.

It's OK with me to be this way. I have done it before. The pattern is change, of course. Don't you do this sort of thing when you are making up your mind about things – people, events? Sure you do.

For several years I have been unable to concentrate as much as I have in the past. Frarigmented and spot thinking was the norm. I pushed on and tried, but concentration was just not-the way it was. Why? Stress? It seems like a cop out to me to say that stress kept me from it. A little wacky? My thinking was superficial or at least recessed. It is easy to repress – not fun.

My temperment may have changed some. Most of the time, it was OK, but there was the periods of questioning. | needed direction, but found others busy trying for the same things. "Lets talk" had new meaning.

There has been a new wanting to get better at golf that seems to spark me, but it is not necessarily the best think I could do. Work and family always came first, really. Work was sometimes primary – | know that. Family shrunk through death and distance. | felt alone

My fault, | thought, for not keeping in touch more and not making the effort to make the family all important. Come to think of it, how many of my family ever saw me play a game of baseball? Golf? Guilt? There is no making up for past deeds and you can't cram life into time.

Relax? That is not for me. Keep on going. I want to be intact and take pretty (average) care of my health needs.

Change is coming, I feel it.

If my writings aren’t similar or fit; if it is like a tall poppy in a lawn I must cut it; with reluctance, of course.

I’m not writing the encyclopedia and religion, so, if the piece is not connected it must go. I'll read each piece aloud. The parts that stick out — good or bad – can be trimmed. Eliminate the B (and lower) material and if there is anything left it can be kept for review later.

I have decided to write very little about my family (to protect me), or about sex. I just can’t do it with comfort. Perhaps I’ll share everything about myself. I already do about my thinking and feelings because I’m not afraid of what someone might learn about me. IfI write it I own it. I will also put into words admissions about my character at a particular point of my life. Character is what we are when we are being ourselves when no one is looking.

n all likelihood I will include my friends and family when I write. They will not get an advance notice either and some of them might object to showing up in my book, especially if anything that involves things they would like to forget. This is tricky business. If] write about the harsh lines of their lips gained over many years of pursing them, do I mention this? I don’t fear that I can be so inaccurate that they will call their lawyer. Then again, I might find that they get upset about not being in my book, or not being in it enough.

If it involves me, I can write about it. If it involves others, I’ll get permission. If it involves me and others, and I need them in my story, regardless of how they feel about it, I’ll include them, but I am for fairness. Not every story will be flattering, but my intention is never to hurt anyone with my words.

I will consider asking my family for their permission to write about them or to include them in my stories. If they do not give me permission, I'll consider excluding them from any story other than their name, rank, etc, that may be important to the story as long as it is not revealing. I can, if needed, just change the name, their occupation, or behavior so as not to leave a trail that he or she would be embarrassed by a friend reading the story. No axe grinding. No talk radio. I might even save some of my stories for fiction. Squeaky wheel gets the grease, as they say, but my stories are not about revenge.

My emotions and memories shape me. My writings are a journey of my state of mind, a by product of the past, and a unique disclosure of my own being. It is commentary on my life and the world around me. It creates a sense of self awareness | use writing symbolically to meet stress and inward vision towards realism which brings rest from the trials of this world.

There is a sense of poetry in my writing. | see my writings as conversations with myself and memories of the past. It is often exciting and at times a bit surprising to see what form of writing | take and what mood it is willing to reveal.

July 9, 2004 John

THE BEST GIFT EVER DECLUTTERING my apt was a goal when I begin in earnest five weeks ago. I live in an ugly house; my apartment is beauGful. I commi Jed it to make a place I was proud to call home. And, I told others about the goal, that signified a commitment was made to hold me to the pledge. I asked for ideas from friends and people who might have suggesGons. For sure, my health led me to think differently about how I was living. I had become trapped in a paJer of rouGnes. A “poor me,” syndrome led me to think I’ll never get beJer it will get worse. And, I didn’t get beJer and it did get worse. Just before I was scheduled to go for a visit to see my son and Jay in Boston two months ago, I became very sick. My doctor advised against it and said “the trip may be too difficult for you.” I crashed. I sank. On sunny days I stayed at home; when it rained I watched it from my porch. I felt sorry for myself. I distanced from anyone. I paint rocks in all colors. I write messages on them, and names, and dates. I put them in my Gny follower garden, and I take a few with me when I run errands. I’ve given them to strangers, clerks, nurses.

To dull the pain and fight faGgue and insomnia I began popping pills and slipped into a fog of self pity. I needed to stop dwelling on myself if I was ever going to heal. AT first I had doubts. I could barely get out of bed and felt I had nothing to offer the world. I made a conscious e ffort to give things away and shiV focus to others. That would allow something posiGve to happen. GiVs don’t have to be material things. A smile, or praise would do. The key was to be mindful about it. I would have to mean it. I needed to be sensiGve to others and distance myself from toxic people. It was’n a clanging of bells or hallelujahs, or a eureka moment that changed my outlook. It was more like shadows in a woods, ripples in the water, and reflecGons that awoke me.

THE BEST GIFT EVER MO nw 2,20

DECLUTTERING my apt was a goal when | begin in earnest five . weeks ago. | liveina ugly house; my apartment is beautiful. iil | committed it to make a place | was proud to call home. And, I told others about the goal, that signified a commitment was made to hold me to the pledge. lasked for ideas from friends and people who might have suggestions. For sure, my health led me to think differently about how | was living, thad become trap edina patter of routines. A “poor me,” syndrome led me to think I'll never get better it will get worse. And, | didn’t get better and it did get worse. Just before | was scheduled to go for a visit to see my son and Jay in Boston two months ago, | became very sick. My doctor advised against it and said “the trip may be too difficult for you.” crashed. | sank. On sunny days ! stayed at home; when it rained | watched it from my porch. felt sorry for myself. | distanced from BYSne. | paint rocks in all colors. | write messages on them, and names, and dates. | put them in my tiny follower garden, and | take a few with me when I run errands. I’ve given them to strangers, clerks, nurses. . ie ge i Mt Ml me, me a SO ae plrks, Rocks, — oF Aber a re Clio aaa

Qosars bell be halupoed . pine, OME. Ubi ‘¥ aaron Mp pre deckatproct

Open the review (CANON PRINTED SQUARE) of the camera and you will see a photo of a recent shot. You can do this on every shot if you want to or wait until you have taken several shots. To review use the review button on the rear of the camera. It is located just below the ON/OFF button. It is round and has four arrows on it. I use either the left or right arrow to view shots

Removing the photo chip for making prints. On the right side of the camera there are 10 small raised dots and SD printed. Put your thumb on the dots and press upwards and the small door to the chip will open. Remove the chip and you are ready to insert it into the photo machine and make your photos. Replace the chip in the camera when you are done and you are ready for more shots. The shots will remain on the chip until they are deleted. You can do this easily too.

If the light does not go on when you try to start the camera with the ON button there is a good chance that the batteries are weak or dead. To open the batter compartment turn the camera upside down. There are six small nubs and a small round button and below are two raised lines. Move the round button to the right and press down and the battery compartment will open.

Remove old batteries and replace with new ones.

On December the 10" Martin Rowe, President of Capital First Corp., suddenly announced to me that Capital First was reorganizing the Mortgage Lending Division. He said that Capital First would, in the future, devote more time to the growing profit center operation of farm lending. Although the Mortgage Division has experienced gains in both production and profit (bonus eligibility?) in 1998 he felt that this operation was more work intensive and required a greater amount of staff time than the percentage of the company’s profit it provided as compared to the farm lending operation. Martin outlined a program that he believed would provide Capital First and myself an opportunity to continue a modified Mortgage Lending Operation. He said Capital First would discontinue to originate and process loans using the Eldorado Staff. I would be on my own and not an employee of Capital First.

I would devote 100% of my time to originate and process loans and present completed packages to Capital First to underwrite and close, if approved, with a title company completing the closing. Capital First would receive a set amount of income from each loan and I would receive the overage. He explained that it would be like setting up my own business with Capital First as my investor. I liked it and accepted the offer even though details on how it would work were not outlined clearly. Intuitively I sensed that a program like this would work well if we were committed to it. I would simply go into my own business as an “authorized agent” of Capital First. As I saw it, the alternative would be the termination of myself and the mortgage loan division as it existed prior to my coming to Capital First in January 1996. It was a “take it or leave it” proposition. Consciously or unconsciously, I may have been prompted to jump at this early offer, to settle, to compromise more than I otherwise might. This makes little sense to me now. After spending so much time and effort on the details and preparation to come to work for Capital First, to come to a decision to strike out on my own without preparation is more than a shame. I deserve better than this from them.

For the past three years I have been committed to a goal of establishing Capital First as a premier mortgage lender in the secondary market. My confidence was high and I always believed we would achieve this goal. We developed systems and forms, programs and procedures, and concentrated in single family owner-occupied residential properties in greater southern Illinois. We developed a network of clients of Realtors, title, mortgage Insurance, and flood certification companies. We approved several appraisers, and were approved by several important investors. We offer fixed rate conventional (FHLMC-FNMA) loans as well as VA and FHA loans. We also developed an Alternative Loan Program as an answer to borrowers (or properties) that would not fit traditional loan programs. We also offered a Part-Time Farm Loan Program and a First-Time HomeBuyer Program. We have the programs that should work anywhere. I developed an easy to understand pricing system that allowed us to price competitively.

At the same time as I was devoting my time developing the mortgage loan business, the farm business was exploding. Capital First is a major player in farm lending. Their operation is national in scope and they have a network of established originators in several states. The loans they originate are high quality secondary market loans and generally in amounts of one million dollars and up. Capital First also services their own farm loans that require the concentrated attention of most of the office staff during peak seasons for farm loan servicing. Capital First is already a premier farm lender, and they are getting better. They are not a premier residential mortgage lender – yet.

What makes me think that they will become one? Why do I believe an “outsourcing” loan originating and processing program will work with Capital First? Is there a commitment by both parties? Will each perform professionally and promptly? Will it be profitable? What are the procedures and who will be responsible for what? Is this a sound and logical development of a mortgage banking company and an independent mortgage loan originator? Will the existing staff be able to crossover into mortgage lending when it is necessary to provide customer service necessary to complete on-time loans? Will it be necessary to revamp our programs? Just how will it work?

There was little time from December 10, 1998 and the proposed change at the start of 1999 to develop a comprehensive plan to operate the brand new concept Martin proposed. His proposal was not in writing and no discussion has ensued since. It appears that it is up to me to develop the process or to let it just work itself out. Although I sense that the program can work it is not an easy program.

There is a sign in the bathroom at Capital First that is about quitting. Don’t quit it starts and gives examples of making another effort when you think you should quit. The theme is to simply, try, stick to it, but don’t quit.

I don’t quit! I have a passionate belief in the worthiness of the work that I do. I put forth an incredible amount of energy, enthusiasm, creativity and commitment in my work. Not only do I believe in the work that I do, but I love it; it excites and energizes me. This passion always led me to keep on keeping on. We had a pretty good year in 1996. Capital First was profitable and the bonus I received was unexpected and appreciated. In 1997 as the farm lending operation continued to lead the way the company had another profitable year, but the performance of the mortgage loan operation was lagging. Everyone in the company received a bonus except me. There is no written bonus program at Capital First. If | were a quitter this was the time to quit. The company enjoyed their most profitable year ever and I was the only one who did not receive a bonus. I didn’t quit. Instead I became more resolved to make Capital First into a first-class mortgage lender. 1998 turned out just OK, but not up to expectations.

If we have anything at all to do with other people, personally or professionally, whether as a society, as companies and corporations dealing with one another, or employees dealing with employers,

the inescapable fact is that each of us every day is faced with a number of decisions that require some level of negotiation. In any situation where two or more people need to work out a mutually agreeable decision, some level of negotiation is required. Too many people would rather simply give up what they want. They would rather avoid the discomfort of possible conflict by accepting a situation or terms without discussion, even when it means accepting less than they rightfully deserve or desire.

Rather than truly considering one another’s thoughts and ideas, we seem to be a society entrenched in deeply dug positions, tightly clutching our agendas and hurling edicts and ultimatums. The traditional thinking about the negotiating process is that it is a kind of adversarial showdown, a face-off, and a matter of breaking another human being, wiping his position out, conquering him personally. People who carry this attitude into the negotiating process exacerbate personalities that are marked by aggressiveness, the need to humiliate and dominate and manipulate. This stance is simply an ineffective way to negotiate. Effective negotiation is not about conflict. It is not about force. It is not about bullying or threatening.

Effective negotiation is about exhaustive preparation, utter clarity, heartfelt communication, and a sincere, demonstrated desire to fully understand not just your own needs but the needs of the other party. Effective negotiation is the result of comprehensive research, of building a well-reasoned position, of studying and fully understanding the other party’s position — then bridging the gap between your position and the other party’s with a persuasive, mutually satisfying proposition based upon facts, reason, and fairness rather than upon willpower, desire, or deceit.

Too many people separate the business of doing business from the business of being human. They adopt situational ethics, playing the role of unselfish, caring friend away from work while feeling that the law of the jungle prevails in the workplace. Effective negotiation at any level is grounded in the ability to understand people and to treat them fairly. There is no magic to effective negotiation

Even in common situations where a person might feel that he has very little leverage — facing an employer who has all the power; having no job options other than the job one has the negotiation process can apply. The ideal negotiating environment is one in which two reasonable people are able to communicate openly and honestly from the heart.

There will come a point where the road forks and an ethical choice must be made between one action or response and another. A decision will have to be made between taking the high road or the low road. Sometimes it can appear to be more immediately beneficial to take the low road, to deceive, to dissemble, or in some other way to take advantage of a particular situation. Whatever benefits might result from unethical actions will always be outweighed by the damage that is done ~— damage to your relationship with the other party, damage to your reputation, and damage to your own self-esteem and sense of honor. In the long term, it is always more advantageous to act ethically, to take the high road.

March 25, 2004

I arrived at Fast Eddies on Broadway in Alton about 8:30 pm and parked in the upper (west) lot. The time is closely estimated. It was between games of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament. A friend and I had been watching the Vanderbilt game and when it ended, I drove to Alton and to Fast Eddies. I intended to get something to eat, have a beer, and watch the second game until half time before going to my apartment at 435 % Bluff Street, Alton, I

After getting out of my 94 Grey Toyota Camry, license plate Il FOCUS 11, I begin to walk through the parking lot and towards the front entrance to Fast Eddies. I had not reached the front sidewalk near the corner of the building when I saw a lady sitting on a parking lot curb. She spoke to me at about the same time as I saw her and I said hello back. She was bent over, her head in her hands and appeared to be crying and in distress. I asked what was wrong. I believe I said, “why are you crying?” She answered, “my fiancé’ died.” I answered with, “I'm sorry.” I felt immediately compassionate towards her and talked softly and asked if she wanted to talk about it. She said he was killed in a motorcycle accident. She said he had always wanted a motorcycle and finally got one. It was, she described, “a great bike.” She said he was killed in Arizona, Phoenix as I recall.

I asked why she was there on the curb and not with friends and she said that they had left her. I said that surely was not the case and if so that they would surely be back for her. She said they wouldn’t and that she would have to find a way home. My first mistake was to talk to her, my second was to offer her a ride to her home or to somewhere downtown. I had asked her name and she had answered, Cindy.” I had given my name, John. She asked if I would take her home. I said yes. She asked if the red truck nearby was my truck and I said no and that I had the grey Toyota next to it. She said “Ill be back in five minutes, I need to pick up my purse, wait right here.” I started down the sidewalk with her to also go in Fast Eddies knowing I might see some friends and let them know I would be right back. She stopped and turned to me and said, “wait here, you don’t need to go in there.”

She returned quickly and less than five minutes. I had barely time to place the stuff (jacket, files, papers, glasses) in the front passenger seat into the rear seat before she returned. Walking to my car, she said, “what kind of thing are your wearing,” referring to the khaki colored wind vest I was wearing. I told her it was a wind vest that I sometimes wear when I played golf and that I had been golfing. She said, “You can’t pick up girls with a thing like that on, you should take it off.” At my car, I opened the door and she got in. When I turned right (west) on Broadway she said where do you go downtown? I answered that I usually go to Marilyn’s. She said, “that’s a rich place where all of the rich people go — are you rich?” I laughed, and said “not hardly.” She said, “You look rich.”

She was about 5’4”, had medium length dark brown hai) mabe had on i pullover cotton blouse. She had faded jeans on and wore = Getingghiiet @uisted

jacket with a design on the sleeve cuff. She weighed about 115 pounds. She had very red lipstick on and her nails were professionally done. Her hands seemed older than the age of 35 she said she was. She said her name was Cindy.

As I neared the Clark Bridge light, she suddenly said, “Let’s go to Khaki’s.” I said OK, I know Khaki’s, I’ll get something there,” meaning food. On the way to Khaki’s she said she was from Calhoun County and was just a simple country girl and all she wanted was a simple life in the country. I missed Khaki’s entrance from the lower road on 367 and turned at the next turnaround and came back north and turned into Khaki’s parking lot and parked in the second space nearest the highway.

She and I went towards empty seats at the rear of the bar and when the bartender came over I ordered two beers and asked for a menu. The bartender said that the kitchen closed at 9:00 and it was just past 9:00, but they had frozen pizzas. I said no to that. The lady (Cindy) went to the restroom and so did I. I came back first and when she came out she came to the bar beside me, She asked me if I smoked and I said no and then she said I mean maranana (sp) and I said no, I don’t do any of that stuff. She then said, “Let’s go.” We left. The lady had maybe had a sip from her beer, nothing more.

On the way back towards Alton she said “will you give me 20$?” I said no, not for anything. I don’t give money away.” She again asked me for $20 and again I said no. I told her that I was going to drop her off as soon as we reached Alton. When I was coming off of the bridge ramp she said to “go straight off of the bridge.” I did and came to the foot of the Lovejoy Monument and she said, “Turn left.” I did and went perhaps two blocks and she said “turn right.” I did, it was Highland I believe. The road was brick and uphill. Perhaps three blocks more and she said, “Turn right,” I did, I believe the street was pearl. I recognized new small row houses and believe they are part of what I have heard was “Little Mexico.” And part of a housing project. I was slowly driving down this street and there was a man coming along the west side of the street on the sidewalk. The lady punched the window button and lowered the window and called out to this person asking him if he had seen someone. He answered, “No.” At the end of the first (or second) block, she said, “turn right.” I did and we were coming back to the start of Pearl again. There were several people at on the sidewalk there, and the lady again pushed the button to lower the window and called out to the group, “have you seen someone that she named, but that I can not recall the name. The reply was quick, “No.” Then the lady on the sidewalk said, “We’re trying to clean up this neighborhood to make it safe for the kids.”

We were barely by this group when the lady (Cindy?) said turn right, meaning into a lane, or ally, and I said, “No, I’m not turning anymore and I’m going to go to Fast Eddies and let you out.” I was just a few blocks from the tri corner area just north of Fast Eddies. ,

Suddenly, she hit me with a terrific blow to the head with a hard object. I was stunned, dazed and hurt. She continued to hit me and flail at me, kicking and swinging at me with the object. She said, “You’re a dead man, I’m going to kill you, you are going to die.” She struggled with me and I was trying to shield my head from more blows and continue driving. She said, “I have a gun and I will use it.” We struggled and she wrestled with me for control of the car. She tried to steer it into a parked car on the east side of the street and then into an oncoming car. I used both hands to forcefully bring the car back into the middle of the street. We were moving slowly and the car was not running, but was coasting down the street towards Fast Eddies.

When the car stopped, I was against the driver’s door and opened it and stepped outside. There was a red (Escort, I believe) in front of me (down the street) and a white (compact) car in back of me (up the street). Both cars were stopped at that time or barely moving. I began waving my hands and yelled, “Help me, I need help.” The lady in my car had moved to the driver’s seat and began trying to start the car. It started and she quickly drove away down the street and turned towards Broadway.

The red car approached me and saw that I was bleeding from the laceration above my right eye. I again asked that they call the police. One of the occupants asked I wanted them to take me anyplace, to the police station I believe she said. I was afraid to enter the car and said, “No, I'll walk to Fast Eddies and call the police from there. “Tell the police that I will be at Fast Eddies.”

When I entered Fast Eddies, I asked that someone call the police. I was ushered into a room just off of the front bar area and there I dialed the police and reported the mugging, car-jacking, death threat, that I had just experienced. The bar manager came into the room and announced that the police was outside and to go there. I did.

I gave personal information about myself, an account of the events, description of her, and a description of my car. The Officer said, “We have it.” He added, “It was wrecked, it’s totaled and the driver was taken to the hospital.” I asked where the wreck occurred and if she had hit someone. The Officer said he could not tell me about the wreck, he was there to get my story. The Officer was joined by another Officer and both asked questions. One Officer (younger, black officer) took notes, he was following the time schedule and asked about ‘what happened, when’ the other did not, but he asked several questions. One, “Were you driving the car when it wrecked?” “No,” was my answer. Another was, “was sex involved?” “No,” I answered, “Neither I or she ever brought up a single word about sex.” He asked, “did you know she was drunk (intoxicated may have been his word)? “No,” was my answer. “I had never seen her before; she talked OK and told me stories about herself.”

The second officer {he was white and appeared to be a senior officer (he was older)} and asked if I could take me to where the car-jacking occurred. I said, “Yes, I think I can, it was right back up that street,” and I pointed up Pearl Street to the north. He said, “No, I want you to start at the Lovejoy Monument.” I said again that it would be easier for me to backtrack, because I had just walked down from that street to Fast Eddies and it was only a block or so from there. The officer then spoke directly to the first officer and said, “Put him in your car and take him to the Lovejoy Monument and have him take you on the route.” “When you do that, you can take him home. Take pictures of him, he added.”

The officer and I (back seat for me) went west towards the street (Monument Avenue) and turned west at the foot of the monument (Ci street) At the next street, I said, “turn right,” and we came to a brick wall. I said, “I don’t recognize the wall as to where I drove, perhaps it is the next street, let’s go there.” He said no. We then went back to Fast Eddies. The officer had called the first officer and said, “He can’t remember the route he took.”

When we returned to meet the second officer, the second officer told the first officer that he should take me home. I asked if that was all they would do and what was going to happen next. I was told that it was ‘likely’ that someone from the police department would call me the next day and get my story again. He then drove me to my apartment on Bluff Street. He did not take a photo of me.

I called my son, Shan, in St. Louis and said that I was at home, shook up, scared, and did not know what would happen next. But, I was safe, did not appear to have any injuries other than a slash over my right eye and numerous bumps on my head. I told him the story from start to finish. He tried to assure me that “things will be OK.” I called a neighbor who lives on Bluff street near me and asked that he come over and talk to me, that I was shook up and a bit about the story. He did. At 11:16 PM the first officer called me and asked if I had “cleaned or washed up.” I said, “No, but I was just going to do that.” He said, “Don’t, I forgot to take your picture and I will be over.” He came, took three photos (in my hallway) and left. My neighbor listened to my story and we discussed it for quite awhile. When he left, I washed off the blood on my head, looked for bruises on my arms and body, sit down for awhile to think of the evening and events and went to bed. It was near 2:30 when I did this.

The next morning, I got out of bed early — 6 or so — took a shower, dressed for work, cooked bacon & eggs and made toast and coffee. I also drank a glass of orange juice. I made a call to a friend and left a message on his phone to call me when he could. I then sat down at the computer desk and began writing the story of the previous evening. I called another friend and asked that he do me a favor. I asked if he could take me to the police station, then to Fred’s Towing Service where my car had been towed, and then to work in Edwardsville. He said he would (he had to change schedules) and that he would be at my address at 9:00. I called the office and talked to a fellow worker and said that it was not likely that I would be in until

noon or so, but that I had work and an appointment at 4:00 that was very important. I briefly told her about the story and asked that she not say anything and that I would decide to break the story after I had done my work at the office.

At the police station (it was raining hard at the time) I went into the lobby and went to the information window. There was a lady in front of me talking to an officer behind the window. She apparently was not satisfied with the answer given to her by the officer and left. I then spoke to the officer, gave my name and said I was involved in an incident last evening and that I understood that my car was at Fred’s and did I need permission and the keys to get my personal stuff and work files. He said that I didn’t and that I could go there and get my stuff. I asked if someone was going to call me for additional information and wanted to give him my schedule for the day. He said, “If you want to do that now, an officer will see you. It will take about 15 minutes. I quickly agreed to meet with the officer.

I went outside to let my friend know that it would take 10-15 minutes and if he didn’t mind waiting for me. I asked if he could accompany me. He said, “Sure.” While I was outside the woman who was in front of me inside came up to me and asked, “Were you involved in an accident last night?” I answered, “I was not in an accident.” She identified herself as Cindy’s mother. She asked me, “Will you tell me exactly what happened last night?” I replied that I was going to talk to a police officer. She followed me to the door and asked, “aren’t’ you going to tell me what happened last night.” Again, I answered, “I am going to talk to a police officer and entered the lobby.

Detective Simmons ushered me to a room after showing my friend the waiting room and proceeded to ask me to tell my side of the story. I did. He took notes and asked for the paper I had in my hands — my written story of the events and what happened. He said it was important to me that I had come to the station on my own and volunteered to make a statement.

He said, “Her story is not like yours.” He then told me some of her story. First, he said she was banged up pretty badly and may have a broken cheek or facial bones broken. She had lots of lacerations on her head and was bruised up quite a bit. She had been charged with DUI because she was “well over the limit.”

Her story briefly: ‘He came up to me and asked if I was a prostitute. He then asked me to accompany him in his car. He took me to an undisclosed tavern where we had several beverages. When it became late, we left the tavern and returned towards Alton. On the bridge, he made a lewd remark and fondled my breasts. He became angry and we scuffled. He tried to dump me off several places and I hit him with a Coors Beer bottle and tried to force him out of the car. When he got out of the car, I drove off because I though he would beat my ass because I had hit him with a beer bottle. The next thing I knew was looking up at a police officer when I was lying on the ground.’

He said that ‘Cindy’ was drinking with two nurses earlier in the evening and had been drinking vodka. Cindy told her friends that she was going outside to get some air and to smoke a cigarette and that she thought she about to throw up. The police had statements from these nurses.

The officer said that it may be difficult to convict her of car-jacking and that it would require further investigation, meeting with a grand jury, testimony and that it would come down to credibility — “your word against hers.”

He said that I was entitled to her paying for my wrecked car, but that “you may have to pay the deductible.” My car is not insured for collision.

He said she had a previous DUI and that her attorney was Russell Meyer — across from Norbs, he said. He suggested that I might call him and start the process of getting my car fixed.

The officer took a copy my written account of the evening. He had remarked that I was lucky to be alive. He said that if she was trying to make a contact with a pusher and if he had been there it was likely that I would have been killed. He said that I was in a bad place.

I then went to Fred’s and asked to see my car. I asked for keys and the attendant checked, could not find them and called the tow truck driver and was informed that the keys were not in the car or recovered from the wreck. I later called the police and asked if they would check, they did and also the personal items of the woman. The keys were not recovered.

When I recovered some of my personal items from my car, I saw two Coors Light beer bottles on the floor of the driver’s side.

On Saturday I again went to Fred’s and retrieved more personal items and searched for my keys. They were not there. The attendant told me that my wrecked car was picked up at 825 Washington Ave. I drove there and searched the grounds near the scared telephone pole that the woman had crashed into. I did not locate my keys. I picked up several broken pieces of the car — headlight plastic, and various small parts of the car.

I measured the mileage from the bridge to Khaki’s and it was almost exactly 4 miles and it took about 5-6 minutes (speed limit) to get there. I then returned to Alton and tried to take the exact route that I had taken on Thursday evening by going up Monument Avenue to the foot of the Lovejoy monument,(4™ street) and turning left, going two blocks and turning right. I followed this street (Highland) and turned right and through the intersection of Highland and Brown Street. Highland apparently becomes Pearl south of Brown Street. I drove this street several times. Pearl is just one block west of Park Street and goes to Broadway by Fast Eddies. Pearl is a one way street and could not be the same street where the woman had hit

me, and drove away with my car. There had been a car in front of me and a car in back of me when I was struggling with her as I came down the street. I recalled the curve in the street as she sped away from the scene. I measured the distance from the scene in the 700 block of Park Street to the front door of Fast Eddies. It was just .2 tens of a mile.

I have earlier described the red car in front of me when the altercation was going on and today (Saturday) I saw a red Pontiac (compact) parked on the east side of Park Street near the scene. Perhaps this is the car and the occupants lived on Park. They used a cell phone to call the police and there must be a record of the phone number and a time of the call. The occupants in the red car were the source of the first call to the police.

An eye witness to the woman crashing into the pole with my car at 825 Washington also called the police and it must have been moments from the time she drove away from the scene on Park Street. She must have used the cut off, drove by the car wash and turned left (north) on Washington Ave, crashing it 7 or so blocks from her entry onto Washington. The distance to Fast Eddies from Park Street .2 tens of a mile (two full blocks), 2 blocks through the cut off by the car wash and 7 blocks for a total of 11 or so blocks she drove until she wrecked the car. It would have taken only a minute or so to make this trip. She had sped away.

She lived on Buna Vista Street (spelling is a question) which is almost exactly one mile from Fast Eddies. This street is one block north of Broadway and runs parallel to Broadway.

It appears that she was not heading to her home when she left and may have been going up Washington to catch Brown Street and return to the same place she had just left.

Notes: The woman spoke to me quickly when I approached her on the parking lot and I spoke back. She said that her fiancée had died. I felt compassion and asked more questions. She said he died 2 weeks ago. (Later she said he died 3 % years ago in Arizona) Later when she said this, I knew the story was not matching and became suspicious of the story altogether. She had provided a fairly extensive description of the bike and the accident.

She pointed to the red truck when she asked, “Is that your red truck?” I directed her to my grey Toyota. Was she checking out my car to later describe it t o someone else? Her accomplice?

She was insistent that | NOT GO INTO FAST EDDIES when she went for her

purse. Two times she said to “wait for me.” If I had entered Fast Eddies I would have noticed her two nurse friends and there is not a story — nothing more would have happened. Did she load up her purse with the Coors bottles at Fast Eddies?

Why did she direct me to turn right towards downtown when she lived east along Broadway barely one mile from Fast Eddies?

She said, “Let’s go to Khaki’s (boy did I make a mistake to say OK to this) I agreed because one, it was close, it had food, and I had been there before and thought it was an OK place. I had also bought into the dead fiancée’ story and was sorry for her. I had explained that I was 63 and had no intentions towards any relationship with her.

The Vienna Times – Page 4 – Thursday, October 3, 1996 eee eee eee

Letter To

Dear Don: – OR

Enclosed is a poem about a porch that yourreadership mightenjoy shar- ing. The author is John Casey, my brother-in-law, who grew up in Tun- nel Hill, works in Eldorado, and lives in Mount Vernon. The house in Tun- nel Hill that was for. years home to John, his sister, Edith, and a wealth of brothers and sister, hada similar cov- ered porch runing along two sides and covering it entrances. The Tun-

The Editor

nel Hill house is gone now, but its memory is not.

A few unusual aspects of this poem .and porch are: John is not a writer. He is a banker where emphasis is more on numbers than words. I am not a carpenter. Construction of the porch began following retirement from a career asa bureaucrat with the federal ‘government.

ei Dennis Wilkerson

ny RZOWN PORCH ; HY PORCH iS WIDE AND LONG. it ENCIACLES UALF OF MY HOME. I'S STRONG, BROWN, AND SOLID. IT LOOKS AND FEELS GOOD TO ME. OPOSSUMS RUN UNDER ir. RABBITS HIDE THERE. MICE MAKE NESTS AND Ri2DS FIND BUGS THERE. YOU CAN Sit AROUND ON MY PORCH,

OR YOU CAN Sit ACZOSS.

T'S BiG.

HERE, YOU CAN TALK POLITICS, BOOKS, SPORTS, OR TALK ABOUT THE WEATHER OR NEIGHBORS. RAIN CAN PELT THE ROOF AND THAT SOUNDS GOOD.

WATER BEADS UP ON THE PLANKS AND HAS NEAT DRIBLETS AND PATTERNS. I'M REMINDED TO CUT THE GRASS AND WEED THE FLOWER BEDS WUEN I'M UP ON MY PORCH. TOMORROW WiLL BE SOON ENOUGH. | OBSERVE THE WORLD FROM MY PORCH. SOMETIMES iN THOUGHT OR SENSES.

IT iB. LARGE ENOUGH AND SMALL ENOUGH FOR ME AND THOSE WHO SHARE iT.

ITS NOT A VERANDAU OR A STOOP.

IT WON'T INSPIZE YOU BY ITSELF.

YOU MUST BRING SOMETHING THERE FOR THE CONTENTMENT YOU SEEK.

COME AND Sit WiTH ME AND MY FAMILY.

RRING A FRIEND

OR COME ALONG.

TELL ME A STORY ABOUT YOURSELF, RUT BE WILLING TO LISTEN TO ONE OF MINE. HY PORCH iS NOT BEAUTIFUL, BUT

iT id MARVELOUS.

W'S JUST A PORCH,

I'M JUST ME.

advance and overcome the Confederate defenders and end the siege. The charge was set to go off at 3:00 P.M.

At 3:00 P.M. nothing happened. After a few minutes everyone believed it was another failure. Suddenly at 3:30 P.M. sharp, a terrific explosion went off. The blast blew away many of the Confederate troops. The 31st was ordered into the crater and into the smoking crater poured Union troops expecting to run up the other side and crush the bewildered foe. But to their credit, the Confederates reeled but did not fold. The 31% was led by Lt. Col. Rees who was mortally wounded. The 31st was relieved by the 234 Indiana and the 17 Iowa. By 2:00 a.m. the 31st was back in the forefront relieving the 17 Iowa and pressing the assault. Levi Casey who had just been promoted to brevet Major led the 31st in the second assault in the crater. There they stayed because the Confederate troops had repositioned themselves on the far wall and began shooting the Union men trapped in the pit. The Confederates also threw hand bombs (grenades) into the pit and one of them exploded at Casey’s feet, mortally wounding him. He was taken from the field and due to the lack of adequate medical attention and care, gangrene set in and Capt (b.Major) Levi Burnside Casey died on June 29, 1863.

During this one battle, 7 members of the 31st IL were killed and 27 wounded. A tall grey Georgia granite memorial is on the sight. Casey’s, along with the others killed or wounded that day, is engraved on it. The day I was there, almost 125 years after he died, it was raining lightly. A few of my tears mixed with the rain. A grave is marked for him at the Vicksburg Union Cemetery. There is also a tall grey monument and grave for Captain Casey in the Mt. Olive Cemetery near Vienna in Johnson County Illinois. Levi Burnside Casey, age 37, left behind a wife and four children.

Beginning in 1980 I attempted to travel nearly the same path of my great, great uncle, Levi Casey from his first camp and battle, and his last camp and battle. I started in Cairo at the Library near Camp Defiance where Casey was camped. Mrs. Louis Suggs the able and kind librarian there helped me find references of the Union camp and many articles about it. I spent one half day in the WAR ROOM, a humidity controlled room on the third floor of the library. From Cairo I went to Columbus, Kentucky where a Confederate camp and fortress was located overlooking the Mississippi River. Belmont, Missouri, was just across the river from this fortification. Belmont would be Casey’s first battle.

From Columbus, I went to Fort Henry on the Cumberland River and on to Fort Donelson on the Tennessee River. Tennessee was next. Casey went AWOL there but returned to his company and was

promptly put in jail for desertion. He served his time and rejoined his company.

As the Christmas Pageant Parade marched down Historic Main Street in St. Charles, Missouri on a balmy (45 degree sunny day) Sunday afternoon I thought of you. The St. Charles parade featured several Santas from around the world (historic Santas) as well as cos- tumed carolers, bright faced children, horses and carriages and a fife and drum corp. The crowd was enormous and exceedingly cheerful, shops were filled too. My son, 39, and I strolled and weaved along the corridors and talked about things. My Christmas!!

My brother’s youngest son is dying of cancer. His birthday is December 24. He will be 50. He may not make it until then. A fast moving cancer has disabled him; chemo has been ruled out. There is a lot of story surrounding him, but I will leave it alone. I’ll make a trip to see him tomorrow. I would like to have a few private moments with him, but may have to share the time. (note: He died on Dec. 2). A game of ping-pong late yesterday afternoon with a few buddies at the club house of the golf course where I play mostly was spirited and fun. It took the sting off of the news above. It would return later when I talked to my brother.

I sleep restlessly.

A trip to Florida may happen. I want so much to drive away the blues. My heels have not clicked in a long long time. But, I also may try a train trip to Chicago, if even for one day. I like snow, Michigan Avenue, and a train ride. Springfield might do also.

My baking skills are zero and attempts at two pies, one cherry, the other lemon, turned into, well, their remains are in a container in the fridge and may be topping for ice cream, but I managed a chocolate/mint bark that the office staff gobbled up.

The spiral lighted tree on my porch keeps me from being a Grinch. My house was dark next to brightly decorated homes on my street until Saturday. I also changed a few things for Christmas and candles are burning every night.

Closets are full of ironed clothes and better arranged. Shoes are shinned, and even the herbs/spices are organized. Good Will welcomed some of my ‘stuff’ and there is more to give.

I have only a few essays, poems, stories, that I will try again to get published, but won't be disappointed if they don’t make it.

My latest writing was for a program at a Christmas Party. A poem, a song, and an advice column. For several years I have had a small part at the party with a mild form of hu- mor and a warm poem for my friends. This year’s party was cancelled on Saturday. The host- ess has been diagnosed with breast cancer and expects not to feel up to a party. I will send her and her husband a copy of the program when I stop by this week.

Failure to kill a deer did not disappoint me this year. Hunting has been enjoyable but I seldom could raise my gun to shoot. This year was not different. Lots of sightings and chances, but no game. The spirit was not there.

Follow your instincts”

The lower left corner of this letter is not a replica of my pie. The upper right corner is on target.

MERRY CHRISTMAS—I LOVE YOU. john

As the dust was clearing a cowgirl began quirting her horse towards the slow moving truck. Her salute finger was pointing to the sky. The redneck slowed down and let the horse draw near the rear of his powerful truck. “This ain’t happening,” he muttered to himself, feeling the hackles on his neck return. When the rider and horse came close to the truck the rider cut loose with loud and vulgar language. The redneck smiled and waited until the horse was in range of flying gravel the truck tires would unleash when the he mashed the gas pedal. It was hell in a dust storm when the redneck stomped the pedal The innocent horse received the brunt of the havoc and reared, and the ‘bitch’ had to hold onto the horse’s reins with both hands and could not rub her stinging cheeks. Her hat flew off. Smiling, the redneck resumed his leisure pace along the road, his dog smiling, sat on the seat beside him.

This story was told to me by Kent Casey, Harrisburg, IL He said “it might have been a bit rougher than that.”

Kent was a master story teller. He used colorful words

and his inflections were terrific. His stories came to life and let you see into his world.

jre

We all know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing but expecting a different outcome. For all of my years, I have attempted to ‘do something different.’ The outcome is always in doubt, but at least there is a chance that it will not be the same.

There is also something noticeable. Letting life happen. It is surely a different way of living for me. Trying is a description that fits me. Try, try, try! But not trying is harder — it’s like giving up.

The other day my washing machine went on the blink. It would not go into spin-dry and left the clothes in the tub soaking. It would wash, but it would not spin-dry. So, I took to emptying the tub by dipping the water out and wringing them out before trying to dry them in the dryer or hanging them in the laundry room. It worked OK. As a result of this I began looking over my dark clothes and deciding that for a little while I would wear black, blue, brown, & green clothes. I have several outfits. Dirt is harder to see on these colors, but I know it’s there. I also decided to use the cleaners more and send my shirts out for the 99-cent deal with $4.99 in cleaning. I also have a stack of socks and underwear that aren’t that hard to wash, wring, dry and wear.

Golfing has always been my passion and it will not subside. New irons and a new driver increased my desire this past few months and a few good games helped. Yesterday however reminded me that that’s not enough. I must dedicate myself more to stay competitive and regain some lost skills. I will. Starting with a better diet and more attention to conditioning. Discipline is the key. The only equipment change planned is a longer (and heavier) putter — perhaps to 37 inches rather that the 34 inch model I now yip with increasing regularity.

The move to a house is exciting to me. My place is comfortable and convenient, but is also lonely there. It just isn’t a place that I enjoy being. It never was. Will the house be better? Surely. See the first paragraph.

Another thing I seem to notice. Being kinder and gentler this year. I’m easier on folks, more considerate, less anxious, and generally more at ease. It is not pretend either. This is a good thing.

My goals for 2003 are simple – happiness and a good car. See you soon.

John Thanks for all you did for me this year. I think of you often.

The original page will appear here.

In 1942 (16) B-17 bombers bombed Japan. 80 men (5 each plane) took off from the Hornet Carrier. It took secret preparations to equip the planes, devise a plan and carry it out.

The group leaders – maybe 20. Working together to execute the Doolittle Raid.

– Appoint a group of Americans to come up with a plan to assess and analyze a shooting and make changes. – 30 days.

John Kennedy announced that putting a man on the moon before 1970 was possible. – His statement – 1962 – man on the moon – 1969.

If America is threatened we need an army / navy / air force, etc. – a military force without politics. Leaders who rely on skill, material, and conviction and fight a war together.

– No first time gun buyer can buy more than one gun until they reach 21. Background check – paid by the buyer – required on first buy. – Decision in 30 days.

the downstairs apartment. The newest one – about one year old – is excellent and e"cient. It serves the upstairs apartment. The landlord has kept the basement clean and picked up. He stores: bicycles A grill clothes dryers chairs A wood cooler – lined (neat item) Wheel barrow tires hubcaps large ladders medium ladders metal tubs lawn Mowers board game lamp furniture Large globe lamps chains metal pipes Flower pots False teeth wire screens for windows bales of wire A wringer washing machine A metal framed rocker with cushions stacks of tools, weights, forks, planters, wood chairs nails, concrete mix, floor sweep, brushes, paints, ,,, A large compressor and electric cord and a large canvass floor covering for areas the landlord used when he blasted the crumbling support rocks and applied concrete mud, sealer – He used a full mask, a helmet, overalls and gloves for safety. His work was excellent. A inspector made that comment. At the few steps at the lower level of the basement are leaves, dirt and broken pieces of concrete. At the base of the inside steps

the downstairs apartment. The newest one – about one year old – is excellent and efficient. It serves the upstairs apartment. The landlord has kept the basement clean and picked up. He stores: bicycles A grill clothes dryers chairs A wood cooler – lined (neat item) Wheel barrow tires hubcaps large ladders medium ladders metal tubs lawn Mowers board game lamp furniture Large globe lamps chains metal pipes Flower pots False teeth wire screens for windows bales of wire A wringer washing machine A metal framed rocker with cushions stacks of tools, weights, forks, planters, wood chairs nails, concrete mix, floor sweep, brushes, paints, ,,, A large compressor and electric cord and a large canvass floor covering for areas the landlord used when he blasted the crumbling support rocks and applied concrete mud, sealer – He used a full mask, a helmet, overalls and gloves for safety. His work was xcellent. A in rm h mment. At the few steps at the lower level of the basement are leaves, dirt and broken pieces of concrete. At the base of the inside steps

Japan surrendered to the Allies on August 15, 1945 ending WWII. It changed the world and it brought happiness to millions of people. I was four years, 9 months and 15 days old that day and recall it well.

It is the earliest memory of my life.

The Baptist and Methodist Church bells of Tunnel Hill IL were ringing and it was not Sunday. It was strange. Was there a contest between the Baptists and the Methodists? I remembered some Sundays the Baptist bell rang before the Methodist, and being Baptist raised, it made me proud. | didn’t know the difference between the two religions, but knew the Baptists “dunked” theirs and the Methodists “sprinkled” theirs.

The news of the ending of the war came suddenly and touched off spontaneous and raucous behavior by grown-ups. I couldn’t get the hang of it. There was no picnic to go to, no food, like there was at Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. It looked like everyone was being silly except for us kids

When those church bells rang the adults quit what they were doing and started visiting with everyone. Whoops and hollers begin each encounter; hugs and dancing came next along with crying. Yet, there were smiles on everyone’s face. The kid’s games stopped. I heard cars honking everywhere. “What’s going on,” I thought.

I saw mom running through our yard to meet her friend and neighbor, Sylvia, who was running through her yard to meet mom. I had never seen my mom run before, and Sylvia, who was over weight, was fairly bouncing along the path and when they met they joined hands, hugged and commenced dancing, laughing, giggling, whooping, and yelling, and crying at the same time.

I wasn’t running, jumping, laughing or whooping, and I certainly wasn’t going to cry. What’s there to cry about? Why do you cry when you're laughing? What has gotten into everyone? The bells kept ringing for what seemed like forever, and when they stopped car horns picked up their pace. Every time a car came through town the driver honked, stuck his head out the car’s window, waved and yelled.

I was sure I saw everyone who lived in Tunnel Hill that day. Even old lady Lawrence, who was close to 90, was outside on her porch waving to everyone she saw. Now, that was something: Mrs. Lawrence, dressed in a black dress, a white but yellowing apron, black shoes and her grey hair done up in a knot. She had a beautiful smile on her face that I had never seen before and was waving to beat the band, twirling herself around a porch post. I was afraid she would break her skinny neck and someone would have to pick her up and pack her back into her old gray unpainted house. We would probably not see her ever again. I would miss her yelling at us kids playing in the street just outside her door. I secretly liked her, and enjoyed running across her plank porch making it

The End of World War II

Japan surrendered to the Allies on August 15, 1945 ending WWII. It changed the world and it brought happiness to millions of people. I was four years, 9 months and 15 days old that day and recall it well.

It is the earliest memory of my life.

The Baptist and Methodist Church bells of Tunnel Hill IL were ringing and it was not Sunday. It was strange. Was there a contest between the Baptists and the Methodists? I remembered some Sundays the Baptist bell rang before the Methodist, and being Baptist raised, it made me proud. I didn’t know the difference between the two religions, but knew the Baptists “dunked” theirs and the Methodists “sprinkled” theirs.

The news of the ending of the war came suddenly and touched off spontaneous and raucous behavior by grown-ups. I couldn’t get the hang of it. There was no picnic to go to, no food, like there was at Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. It looked like everyone was being silly except for us kids

When those church bells rang the adults quit what they were doing and started visiting with everyone. Whoops and hollers begin each encounter; hugs and dancing came next along with crying. Yet, there were smiles on everyone’s face. The kid’s games stopped. I heard cars honking everywhere. “What’s going on,” I thought.

I saw mom running through our yard to meet her friend and neighbor, Sylvia, who was running through her yard to meet mom. I had never seen my mom run before, and Sylvia, who was over weight, was fairly bouncing along the path and when they met they joined hands, hugged and commenced dancing, laughing, giggling, whooping, and yelling, and crying at the same time.

I wasn’t running, jumping, laughing or whooping, and I certainly wasn’t going to cry. What’s there to cry about? Why do you cry when you're laughing? What has gotten into everyone? The bells kept ringing for what seemed like forever, and when they stopped car horns picked up their pace. Every time a car came through town the driver honked, stuck his head out the car’s window, waved and yelled.

I was sure I saw everyone who lived in Tunnel Hill that day. Even old lady Lawrence, who was close to 90, was outside on her porch waving to everyone she saw. Now, that was something: Mrs. Lawrence, dressed in a black dress, a white but yellowing apron, black shoes and her grey hair done up in a knot. She had a beautiful smile on her face that I had never seen before and was waving to beat the band, twirling herself around a porch post. I was afraid she would break her skinny neck and someone would have to pick her up and pack her back into her old gray unpainted house. We would probably not see her ever again. I would miss her yelling at us kids playing in the street just outside her door. | secretly liked her, and enjoyed running across her plank porch making it

The End of World War II

Japan surrendered to the Allies on August 15, 1945 ending WWII. It changed the world and it brought happiness to millions of people. I was four years, 9 months and 15 days old that day and recall it well. t is the earliest memory of my life.

The Baptist and Methodist Church bells of Tunnel Hill IL were ringing and it was not Sunday. It was strange. Was there a contest between the Baptists and the Methodists? I remembered some Sundays the Baptist bell rang before the Methodist, and being Baptist raised, it made me proud. I didn’t know the difference between the two religions, but knew the Baptists “dunked” theirs and the Methodists “sprinkled” theirs.

The news of the ending of the war came suddenly and touched off spontaneous and raucous behavior by grown-ups. I couldn’t get the hang of it. There was no picnic to go to, no food, like there was at Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. It looked like everyone was being silly except for us kids

When those church bells rang the adults quit what they were doing and started visiting with everyone. Whoops and hollers begin each encounter; hugs and dancing came next along with crying. Yet, there were smiles on everyone’s face. The kid’s games stopped. I heard cars honking everywhere. “What’s going on,” I thought. I saw mom running through our yard to meet her friend and neighbor, Sylvia, who was running through her yard to meet mom. I had never seen my mom run before, and Sylvia, who was over weight, was airly bouncing along the path and when they met they joined hands, hugged and commenced dancing, laughing, giggling, whooping, and yelling, and crying at the same time. I wasn’t running, jumping, laughing or whooping, and I certainly wasn’t going to cry. What’s there to cry about? Why do you cry when you're laughing? What has gotten into everyone? The bells kept ringing or what seemed like forever, and when they stopped car horns picked up their pace. Every time a car came through town the driver honked, stuck his head out the car’s window, waved and yelled. I was sure I saw everyone who lived in Tunnel Hill that day. Even old lady Lawrence, who was close to 90, was outside on her porch waving to everyone she saw. Now, that was something: Mrs. Lawrence, dressed in a black dress, a white but yellowing apron, black shoes and her grey hair done up in a knot. She had a beautiful smile on her face that I had never seen before and was waving to beat the band, twirling herself around a porch post. I was afraid she would break her skinny neck and someone would have to pick her up and pack her back into her old gray unpainted house. We would probably not see her ever again. I would miss her yelling at us kids playing in the street just outside her door. I secretly liked her, and enjoyed running across her plank porch making it

One Christmas I bought and gave a young ferret to Josh, Vicki’s 11-year-old son. Vicki named it__ Farris. This charming little animal took to Josh like a duck to water. Farris loved crawling into Josh’s shirt and running around inside it and down the sleeves to openings for it’s little head. Josh loved it too. Farris would scamper hunch-backed through the house darting here and there ahead of us and sometimes rushed right by us. He could turn, slide, and roll anywhere. He was unlikely to be caught unless he wanted to be. He was just tame enough to be caught. He would not come to calls even though we tried to teach him. Because he did not make a mouth sound that we could hear (though once I thought I heard him laugh) we didn’t know where he was. We had to look for him.

We found a leash for Farris and now he and Josh could take yard walks. Now and then Josh would take the leash off of Farris and wrestle with him, never turning him loose. We lived in a very wooded area and the outdoors was wonderful. Vicki, Josh and I loved it outside and we ventured out very often. Farris loved it outside too and one day he scooted outside — unseen. “I didn’t let him out,” “I didn’t either.” No one let Farris outside, but he was out there. Josh certainly didn’t let him out, but maybe he did when he left the door open for just a minute while he came back inside to get something.

When Farris was missing we went looking for him. He resembled the gray squirrels that were always present in our yard and wooded lot just over the little creek. The day got dark and still Farris was missing. Vicki and I searched and called for Farris, knowing that when Josh came home he would be devastated. He was, and tears came quickly to his eyes. He continued the search until bedtime. I continued it later with a flashlight and you know what, Farris appeared in the darkness being attracted to the light and voice. I picked him up and inside we went. Farris was saved again. This would not be the only time Farris “left home” and always he was back in the fold, although one time, he was out for 3-4 days and holed up in a ground nest. Vicki saw him sneaking through the woods and called to him. Farris came right up to her and once again the little ferret was at home.

Josh liked to get in the tub with Farris and give him a bath. Farris was barely 3 pounds soaking wet, and I rather think he enjoyed the bath too. When the soaping bath and rinsing was finished, Josh would wrap him up in a big towel and rub him dry. Farris smelled and looked clean and he got a lot of loving from everyone. We would rub our cheeks against his slender body and hold him dangling. Josh liked to stretch Farris and it looked as if the little animal did not have bones.

In Vicki’s house there is a ferret – It’s a replica that has amazing likeness and realism of Farris. Josh moved on, I moved out, and Vicki and the ferret enjoy one another.

Debbie came down from Mexico A red blanket draped over her shoulders. She carried a pistol in her left hand And vowed to shoot her man.

She had been wronged A\nd she was looking for revenge. She was ready for the kill. She wanted him dead and still.

Debbie was determined Ohe looked mean that day. You could see it in her gait.

he wasn’t going to wait.

She found him at the saloon He was drunk and smelled bad. And what she did to him Was sad, sad, sad.

The bullets had ripped his body And tore his soul apart. Now Debbie Blount

Could have another start.

The Ghosts among us A large percentage of people in a relationship believe it is acceptable to end it is to do nothing. It indicates a avoidance attachment style and a lack of concern about harming or confusing someone they are not likely to see again.

The Ghosts among us

A large percentage of people in a relationship believe it is acceptable to end it is to do nothing.

It indicates a avoidance attachment style anda lack of concern about harming or confusing someone they are not likely to see again.

The original page will appear here.

The original page will appear here.

The original page will appear here.

The original page will appear here.

The house I live in has a charm and grace of a time past. It is different from any place I have ever lived, and I think I was meant to live here in this old house so that I could appreciate that getting older is not so bad after all. I hope you like this story and that it makes you recall and appreciate your own home.

This Old Alton Home

I live in a house built in 1905. It’s grey and has suffered the abrasions and contusions of being here for more than a century. It does not look gentle though, having been exposed to nature’s rages against it. It has a melancholy atmosphere with traces of the existence of former occupants.

The wood window frames are worn and wrinkled from the heat and cold they have endured. In the winter the windows barely resist the blasts of freezing air and even a slight breeze will make them shudder and rattle. In the winter when trees are bare, from my kitchen windows, I can see the Mississippi River.

The wood floors are uneven, worn and stained, but will brighten with a touch of oil or polish. It has tall ceilings and wonderful ornate solid wood doors in every room. Old photos along with bundles of hand written letters may be tucked into secret hiding places in the attic. I know. I put them there. The furnace in the basement is big, grey and lumbering and has often been repaired. I might stand on a floor register when I’m cold.

A gnarled old maple tree rests in a corner of the front yard. It too is showing its age with many of its appendages gone, as though it has come back from a war. It looks cranky and unsuited for photographs. Dogs pee on it, and black snakes slither in the heavy vines at its base. Squirrels and birds visit the tree for the buds, and I suspect a tiny screech owl with a great voice has a home in a high-up hole. A tall skinny elm tree anchors the east edge of the property.

The path on the east side of the house is made of uneven sand stones that came from the nearby cavernous pits; likely carried and placed there by the original owners.

The street by the house is paved with uneven sun-faded red bricks that due to their irregular surfaces have been efficient speed bumps for chattering Model T’s as well as the modern SUVs and sedans. Children have the right away in the streets where they play games that only children can invent. When a vehicle comes along, the children politely wave them through and resume their game.

Thave a recreational 8 foot X 8 foot garden behind the house that has produced gently cared for vegetables, like tomatoes, carrots, onions, radishes, lettuce, peppers, herbs and it once grew a great crop of strawberries. It takes but minutes to disturb the ground, pull weeds or prune plants, and less than that to sample a near ripe edible.

The front porch is a haven for three seasons of the year. I enjoy the view, but more than that I enjoy the serenity, as well as the occasional storm experiences when I’m there. Animal walkers of all sizes and ages walk by with dogs of all sizes and ages. I know most of the walkers and a few of the dogs by name and call them out when they come by and they usually look up and I say hello. Now and then a feline trails nonchalantly behind their so called owners, staff to the cat.

The Kokomo Tribune, announced a cost cutting plan that the city police had devised. According to the plan, the police station would close each night from 6 PM to 6 AM. An answering machine would record all calls, and those calls would be screened by an officer in the morning. Since many of the calls would be old by the morning and would not need to be answered it would save a lot of money. A spokesman for the police admitted that there will be a problem on what to do in the case of a woman who calls in and says her husband has threatened to shoot her. In that situation, the spokesman explained, “we will check the hospitals and the corner, and if they don’t have any record of any trouble, then we will know that nothing happened.”

I’m for that being adopted everywhere

Australia has converted to metric time. There will be 100 seconds to the minute, 100

minutes to the hour, and 20-hour days. Clocks will have a new 10-hour metric clock

face. Digital clocks and watches should be thrown away as they can not be converted Dang, I have several digitals.

George Dvorak in PC Computing Magazine describes a bill going through congress that it would be illegal to use the internet while drunk. Bill numbered 040109 listed Lirpa ‘ Sloof to contact about the bill. Congress apparently thinks being drunk is bad no matter what kind of highway it is, including the internet highway.

What’s next?

And finally, (at least today)

The People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) warned that it planned to sabotage the bass fishing tournament in East Texas’s Lake Palestine by releasing tranquilizers into the lake before the tournament. Their announcement stated that “this year, the fish will be napping, not nibbling

They seem to be always napping when I’m fishing

Oh, one more.

A Bismark newspaper reported that the city council passed a new law that all dogs be either painted or bleached white. The purpose of this, it explained, was to increase road safety by allowing dogs to be seen more easily at night.

What a good idea.

1 11/10/77

INSTALLMENT LOAN DIVISION

THE LEGEND OF LARRY THE LONELY

Long loan ago in a lavish lodge near the Village of Lincoln lived a lonely lad called Larry the Lonely.

"What a lousy life I live!" lamented Larry. As he labored long, hours doing loads and loads of loans for his lumpy lord.

Eavery day his Lord (Steve) would yell "Larry, you lunk, stop loafing and lug my large lunch from the Larder it's late!"

Then Larry would ladle out the lucious lunch of leafy lettuce, large lobsters, lovely lentils, lima beans, leg of lamb, lollipops and lemondale. "Oh Lord," Larry lamented, "I have been laboring, long hours, please let me have a little lunch too."

"Later, lazybones, if there's any lunch left! Now leave."

Late one night, in the loft where he lived, Larry laid his lonely head upon his lumpy little bed. Suddenly he heard voices. Larry leaned out the window to listen.

The Lord and a lanky lass were on the lawn. I know I am late with your loan ledger Lord.", said the Lass.

"None of your lip, Lout! Or there will be lots of lashes where you least like-um!" Then the lord left.

Larry leaned out of the window and he leapt onto the limb of a Lemon Tree and lowered himself lightly onto the lawn.

"Who are you?" asked the Lanky lass.

(TO BE CONTINUED NEXT NONTII)

1 11/10/77

INSTALLMENT LOAN DIVISION

TNE LEGEND OF LARRY THE LONELY

Long loan ago in a lavish lodge near the Village of Lincoln lived a lonely lad called Larry the Lonely.

"What a lousy life I live!" lamented Larry. As he labored long hours doing loads and loads of loans for his lumpy lord.

Eavery day his Lord (Steve) would yell "Larry, you limk, stop loafing and lug my large lunch from the Larder it's late!"

Then Larry would ladle out the lucious lunch of leafy lettuce, large lobsters, lovely lentils, lima beans, leg of lamb, lollipops and lemondale. "on Lord," Larry lamented, "I have been laboring long hours, please let me have a little lunch too."

"Later, lazybones, if there's any lunch left! low leave."

Late one night, in the loft where he lived, Larry laid his lonely head upon his lumpy little bed. Suddenly he heard voices. Larry leaned out the window to listen.

The Lord and a lanky lass were on the lam. I know I am late with your loan’ ledger Lord.", said the Lass.

"None of your lip, Lout! Or there will be lots of lashes where you least like-um!" Then the lord left.

Larry leaned out of the window and he leapt onto the limb of a Lemon Tree and lowered himself lightly onto the lawn.

"Who are you?" asked the lanky lass.

(TO BE CONTINUED NEXT NONTIL)

The journals finally came out in a two-volume edition in 1814. The press run was 1417 copies. It sold poorly. New editions were published in 1893 and 1904-05. When the men of the Corps of Discovery arrived back in St. Louis in 1806, the residents “Huzzared three cheers.” Two nights later, they feted the captains at William Christy’s inn. There they raised toasts to, among others, President Jefferson…Christopher Columbus… and on the 18" and final toast, they settled for saluting “their perilous services that endear them to every American heart.”

It has been that way ever since.

The Slave who went with them was named York, William Clark’s body servant — a version of a valet.

Clark took him for granted, but he intrigued the Indians. They thought he was big medison. He also made himself “more turrible in their view than I wished him to Doe…. Telling them that before I cought him he was wild & lived upon people.”

He danced, apparently willfully, for the Indians and they were taken by his appearance, especially his tight curly hair. He had black skin that Indians thought was painted on and they tried to rub it off. It didn’t and it makes his lore even more magical. He knew he amused them very much.

Clark allowed York to return to Louisville to rejoin his wife. But Clark did not grant York his freedom right away. Perhaps Clark freed York. Well maybe.

Seaman — Lewis’s Newfoundland dog accompanied the Corp to and back from the Pacific. He evoked both awe and admiration from everyone, especially the Indians who must have looked at him with hunger at times. Once, Seaman was captured by Indians and Lewis immediately began a chase to recover his dog which may have lasted more than a day when the Indians realized that releasing the dog would save their own lives. When the dog was safe again, the chase ended.

THE AIR RIFLE – carried by Lewis had a compressed air reservoir in the stock and could fire 40 rounds before reloading. It amazed Indians who thought it was magic.

SACAGAWEA – The Shoshone Indian, kidnapped as a child by the Hindatsa tribe and sold to Toussaint Charbonneau, the French-Canadian trader who took her as one of his wives and father of her first child, Jean-Baptiste, would accompany the Corps from North Dakota (Mandan Village) to the Pacific and back. She was a teen-ager, called “Janey” by William Clark, and was an extremely important figure of the journey, including her fortuitous meeting with her brother, Camelweith, who would help the Corps with horses, food and guidance. Sacagawea was also helpful in interpretation with Indians.

ab sk The Lone Ranger Radio Show — 1940’s – deel (First lines for each episode) Narrator: “The Lone Ranger!” (gunshots are fired) The Lone Ranger: “Hi-yo Silver”! Narrator: “A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty “Hi-yo Silver”- The Lone Ranger! “Hi-yo, Silver, away!” Narrator: “With his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early West. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear,” (Pause) “Out of the past comes the thundering hoof beats of the great horse, Silver, the Lone Ranger rides again”.

Is that how it was? That is how I remember it. Every Friday evening the radio would be turned to a static interrupting station that broadcast the best radio show of its time — The Lone Ranger.

So the story goes, a troop of Texas Rangers were on patrol and were surprised by a “bunch” of outlaws, and everyone except one Ranger was killed. The Ranger was rescued by an Indian. That would be Tonto. Tonto: “You are alone now. Last man. You are lone ranger”. The Lone Ranger: Yes, Tonto, I am the Lone Ranger. Tonto: Um, that right, Kemosabe.

__ Thus, the Lone Ranger came to be.

To disguise himself, he put a half mask over his eyes. Imagine that, a half mask could disguise a man like The Lone Ranger. He, no doubt, was after the band of outlaws that had killed his fellow rangers. But, along the way he saved many widows from losing their farms and ranches to the black-hatted menaces of the time. The Lone Ranger shot pistols out of hands of would be murderers and assassins. And, get this; the bullets in the Lone Ranger’s pair of pearl handled pistols were made from pure silver. The Lone Ranger owned a silver mine, the source of his funds to fight the bad guys, and silver for his bullets.

No blood was ever drawn though, as the bad men’s guns were shot out of their hands and discarded. Then the villainous men would leap on their saddled horses and gallop away. The Lone Ranger then turned and told a woman and her two kids; a boy of 10 and a girl of 8, that they no longer needed to worry about losing their home. The grateful family beamed a smile. The boy, unfurled his right hand, in it held a single bullet made of silver.

Tonto, on his spotted pony, Scout, leading the Lone Ranger’s horse Silver, hands his reins to the Lone Ranger who mounts his great white stallion. As The Lone Ranger and Tonto head westward. The lady turns to a man and asks, “Who was that masked man?” The man replies in a gravely voice, “That was — The —- Lone – Ranger.”

The radio show ended with the faint cry of The Lone Ranger: “//i-yo Silver… Away.”

Every one who heard a Lone Ranger radio broadcast imagined the masked man wearing grey pants and shirt, a white hat, black boots with silver spurs, a pair of pearl handled pistols hanging from his gun belt, astride Silver, his big white horse. Next to The Lone Ranger, the buckskinned Tonto, with braided locks, sat bareback on his brown and white spotted pony, Scout. The Lone Ranger and Tonto galloped into the sunset. The End.

John Casey

Note: It was once reported that The Lone Ranger and Tonto were pursuing a band of outlaws

near the US/Canadian border and the outlaws went into Canada, whereupon The Lone Ranger

said, ‘‘Toronto, Pronto, Tonto”. The Lone Ranger was the title to a movie in 2013. Johnny Depp played Tonto. John Casey, 12/1/2012

The Lone Ranger Radio Show — 1940’s (First lines for each episode) Narrator: “The Lone Ranger!” (gunshots are fired)

The Lone Ranger: “Hi-yo Silver”! Narrator: “A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty “Hi-yo Silver”-

The Lone Ranger! “Hi-yo, Silver, away!”

Narrator: “With his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early West. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear,”

(Pause) “Out of the past comes the thundering hoof beats of the great horse, Silver, the Lone Ranger rides again”.

Is that how it was? That is how I remember it. Every Friday evening the radio would be turned to a static interrupting station that broadcast the best radio show of its time — The Lone Ranger.

So the story goes, a troop of Texas Rangers were on patrol and were surprised by a “bunch” of outlaws, and everyone except one Ranger was killed. The Ranger was rescued by an Indian. That would be Tonto. Tonto: “You are alone now. Last man. You are lone ranger”.“The Lone Ranger: Yes, Tonto, I am the Lone Ranger. Tonto: Um, that right, Kemosabe.

____ Thus, the Lone Ranger came to be.

To disguise himself, he put a half mask over his eyes. Imagine that, a half mask could disguise a man like The Lone Ranger. He, no doubt, was after the band of outlaws that had killed his fellow rangers. But, along the way he saved many widows from losing their farms and ranches to the black-hatted menaces of the time. The Lone Ranger shot pistols out of hands of would be murderers and assassins. And, get this; the bullets in the Lone Ranger’s pair of pearl handled pistols were made from pure silver. The Lone Ranger owned a silver mine, the source of his funds to fight the bad guys, and silver for his bullets.

No blood was ever drawn though, as the bad men’s guns were shot out of their hands and discarded. Then the villainous men would leap on their saddled horses and gallop away. The Lone Ranger then turned and told a woman and her two kids; a boy of 10 and a girl of 8, that they no longer needed to worry about losing their home. The grateful family beamed a smile. The boy, unfurled his right hand, in it held a single bullet made of silver.

Tonto, on his spotted pony, Scout, leading the Lone Ranger’s horse Silver, hands his reins to the Lone Ranger who mounts his great white stallion. As The Lone Ranger and Tonto head westward. The lady turns to a man and asks, “Who was that masked man?” The man replies in a gravely voice, “That was — The — Lone – Ranger.”

The radio show ended with the faint cry of The Lone Ranger: “Hi-yo Silver… Away.”

Every one who heard a Lone Ranger radio broadcast imagined the masked man wearing grey pants and shirt, a white hat, black boots with silver spurs, a pair of pearl handled pistols hanging from his gun belt, astride Silver, his big white horse. Next to The Lone Ranger, the buckskinned Tonto, with braided locks, sat bareback on his brown and white spotted pony, Scout. The Lone Ranger and Tonto galloped into the sunset. The End.

John Casey Note: It was once reported that The Lone Ranger and Tonto were pursuing a band of outlaws near the US/Canadian border and the outlaws went into Canada, whereupon The Lone Ranger said, “Toronto, Pronto, Tonto”. The Lone Ranger was the title to a movie in 2013. Johnny Depp played Tonto. John Casey, 12/1/2012

yesterday the drive to Eldorado was long. The neat thing was that I was emotionally high and my senses were tuned in. I listened to myself as the drone of the tires rolling over the dark pavement made a backdrop of sound that allowed me to drift into thoughts and be inside myself.

My haircut was brand new and the millions of tiny clipping must have dropped down my back to itch as I moved my shoulders a bit, twisted my neck and ran my hand briskly through my short grey hair creating a light fog of still more grey clippings as my fingers touched my hair lightly in back and forth motions across the top of my head. The feel was common and my hair felt clean and even. I touched the new part that had been purposely and carefully shaped on the right side of my new "do." and smiled a wry smile. My left hand does most of the hair touching and it acted as a machine that knew its job of flicking and touching old familiar hair in old familiar ways. It felt good. I do that sort of thing unconsciously and it does not matter the mood. My hand, fingers touching hair. I'm doing it now.

The curving, rolling road disappeared under the hood of my car as we raced southeasterly to a destination that promised little in the way of hope, enjoyment, and growth. The only consolation was that the dirty car would be clean going home, it had an appointment to get washed, polished and even vacuumed. It felt good going to Eldorado and thanked me for making an appointment to get clean again. Afterall, I had a new haircut and it needed a soapy shower and the light buffing of it's grey skin would feel good to it. The vacuuming would be ticklish, especially around the contoured front seats. It was looking forward to losing the matchsticks, cigar wrappers, mashed jelly beans, petrified french fries, fingernail clippings, and the sticky notes from underneath seats. It also would be proud to "find" missing stuff again. A whimsical note to a special friend, a few coins, a film cartridge, and my favorite pen.

It looked forward to seeing me later and telling me that it

knew the stuff was there, if only I would keep it clean. It's tires would be rid of the gravely dirt from a cemetery, a tear might run down the sloping windshield in memory of the trip

there and the fun it had as a place to lean on – be in. The lights would be clean of the brittle bugs and insects that peppered it last night, this morning and countless other times before. Thank you it said, as we neared the town and the blessed annointments about to happen. The well worn black/grey steering wheel, oliy to the touch, obviously from the hair oil and sweat of hands, and fingers would not be touched. "It's OK not to clean and scrub", it would say to the cleaners. "I like the

feel of soft strong hands and fingers gripping and squezing

me just right. I have become familiar with the gentle touches and the smooth guiding way that I am steered down all the roads we go. We go where we want to go that's for sure. Sometimes

I choose where."

Along comes an offer from a cousin who lived in Michigan and owned, with his mom, a memorial company in Fenton Michigan. The salary doubled what | made in Indiana. Management fit my talents and | loved numbers and selling monuments. | changed the company, developed teams, improved production, hired staff, negotiated for best price stones, and expanded services. It dramatically improved the bottom line and restored it’s reputation.

An unusual event happened that changed me. Two women were killed in a train, car crash just outside my office. | could see the woman’s car slowly move forward onto the rail road tracks that did not have guard rail arms and heard the fast moving train approaching. | was on the phone talking to a gal | liked and said, | have to go. | ran out the door and watched the speeding train smash into the car squeezing it like a lemon, leaving a mangled car and two unidentifiable women along the tracks. The train stopped beyond the last remains. | saw a horrible scene and called out to people running towards the wreckage, not to go there. Police, fire department and hospital vehicles were quick to reach the crash site. Only clean up duties were done. | went back to my office, called the girl back and said, | hope to see you sometime, told about the wreck and said goodbye. That was my last day of working for the memorial company, | had packed for a two week vacation and it was in my car. | drove 500 miles in my Blue VW Bug back to my parents home in Illinois.

| went to Alton to interview for a job soon after | was ready to go back to earning a living. | was still Johnnie.

A belief is something accepted as true without certainty of proof: a value is something important to each individual, and serves as a guide to making decisions. They are at work during every thing you do, affecting the moods from moment to moment. Since moods influence mental strategies, beliefs and values either facilitate or intrude on what could be very pleasurable.

One person may value winning and perfection, another person, however, might respond positively to the chance to learn and grow and change. Changing beliefs and reordering your values can affect your life. The way you perceive the environment and others and the way you communicate with yourself – the way you run your brain can be changed and are good for you.

By changing the way you think and feel you'll learn how your mind regulates your life. You can learn to expand and modify your sensory apparatus so your thinking is changed. You can learn how your emotions can be controlled so that your mind can work smoothly and unconsciously and learn to have more choices so that your enjoyment is enhanced.

Controlling your unconscious resources through your senses – going “right to the heart o' it" – and getting your conscious mind out of your way is important to finding yourself from the inside out.

Going inside and retrieving past experiences are resources to be used to refine your life. You can search for clues that made your life so special. When you recall when you were exceptionally well and happy and relive it in exquisite detail, you will be going right to the heart o' it. See the life you were living, notice the light and shadows and the brightness of the colors. See the images that were in your mind as you did then.

Hear again what you heard then, both on the outside and inside your mind. Perhaps you heard your own voice giving yourself instructions. Notice the loudness and pitch and tempo of those sounds. As you see and hear those things, feel again what you felt then. Also, become aware of the mood or emotional state you were in as you were in your happy state.

The main questions to ask yourself as you relive that happy time of your life again and again are these: What were the things you saw, the things you heard, and the things you felt that let you know that things were okay. Forget about others and what your friends or partners did, just pay attention to the sensory dues – what you saw, heard, and felt – that regulated your life. As you watch yourself perform, change the image of yourself and see again what you saw while living and enjoying life.

Optimism helps you to think positively about your life; eagerness and determination keep you focused on the important thing at hand; calmness keeps your emotions in check; inventiveness and hope are needed to create new methods to get out of trouble; patience and friendliness allow you to overlook weakness in others; and sensitivity to the beauty of nature around you can be a counterpoint to much of the anxiety in your life.

The importance of being prepared to face fear and death gracefully and courageously can not be minimized. Each person has, or should have, a personal place of power – an actual geographical place where there is a sense of awe combined with exhilaration, strength, and confidence. Whenever a person reaches a time of utmost significance, he or she can return to his or her place of power, either in actuality or in fantasy, and feel the powerful effectiveness there. Then, when death approaches he is to return to his place of power, either in actuality or in fantasy, gather the power into his being, and dance the dance of death – that is, face death courageously, replacing the feeling of fear with power.

In your mind go back to a specific time and place – a place that overwhelmed you by its beauty, where you were at one with nature and the universe, where you experienced a sense of excitement and confidence. It a very special place for you.

The Mind Game

A belief is something accepted as true without certainty of proof: a value is something important to each individual, and serves as a guide to making decisions. They are at work during every thing you do, affecting the moods from moment to moment. Since moods influence mental strategies, beliefs and values either facilitate or intrude on what could be very pleasurable.

One person may value winning and perfection, another person, however, might respond positively to the chance to learn and grow and change. Changing beliefs and reordering your values can affect your life, The way you perceive the environment and others and the way you communicate with yourself – the way you run your brain can be changed and are good for you.

By changing the way you think and feel you'll learn how your mind regulates your life. You can learn to expand and modify your sensory apparatus so your thinking is changed. You can learn how your emotions can be controlled so that your mind can work smoothly and unconsciously and learn to have more choices so that your enjoyment is enhanced.

Controlling your unconscious resources through your senses – going "right to the heart o' it" – and getting your conscious mind out of your way is important to finding yourself from the inside out.

Going inside and retrieving past experiences are resources to be used to refine your life. You can search for clues that made your life so special. When you recall when you were exceptionally well and happy and relive it in exquisite detail, you will be going right to the heart o' it. See the life you were living, notice the light and shadows and the brightness of the colors. See the images that were in your mind as you did then.

Hear again what you heard then, both on the outside and inside your mind. Perhaps you heard your own voice giving yourself instructions. Notice the loudness and pitch and tempo of those sounds. As you see and hear those things, feel again what you felt then. Also, become aware of the mood or emotional state you were in as you were in your happy state.

The main questions to ask yourself as you relive that happy time of your life again and again are these: What were the things you saw, the things you heard, and the things you felt that let you know that things were okay. Forget about others and what your friends or partners did, just pay attention to the sensory clues – what you saw, heard, and felt – that regulated your life. As you watch yourself perform, change the image of yourself and see again what you saw while living and enjoying life.

Optimism helps you to think positively about your life; eagerness and determination keep you focused on the important thing at hand; calmness keeps your emotions in check; inventiveness and hope are needed to create new methods to get out of trouble; patience and friendliness allow you to overlook weakness in others; and sensitivity to the beauty of nature around you can be a counterpoint to much of the anxiety in your life.

The importance of being prepared to face fear and death gracefully and courageously can not be minimized. Each person has, or should have, a personal place of power – an actual geographical place where there is a sense of awe combined with exhilaration, strength, and confidence. Whenever a person reaches a time of utmost significance, he or she can return to his or her place of power, either in actuality or in fantasy, and feel the powerful effectiveness there. Then, when death approaches he is to return to his place of power, either in actuality or in fantasy, gather the power into his being, and dance the dance of death – that is, face death courageously, replacing the feeling of fear with power.

In your mind go back to a specific time and place – a place that overwhelmed you by its beauty, where you were at one with nature and the universe, where you experienced a sense of excitement and confidence. It a very special place for you.

The current Mineral Springs has several shops and one barbershop. The barber was one of the guides of tours in Alton with emphasis on seeing where ghosts once resided. The barber told of weird happenings at the old hotel, and of rumored murders and suicides.

One of his stories was about the drowning of a young girl named Casandra who was at a birthday party at the Ladies pool. Her parents were having dinner and drinks in the hotel restaurant upstairs. At the birthday party the kids decided to swim in the pool and hastily changed clothes and jumped in. With all the splashing and laughter going on no one noticed the birthday girl was drowning. She is one of the ghosts of Mineral Springs.

At the birthday the kids had played marbles. The barber said they were like marbles put in paint cans to mix paint. The marbles were grey. Ghosts were said to have played marbles in the bottom of the empty pool until it was permanently covered and filled. The barber has a jar full of marbles used by the ‘Birthday Girl’.

The guide also took tours to cemeteries and homes in the area. The McPike Mansion was one of the most notable homes is located on North Alby Street. During the civil war it was a station for the Underground Railroad. It had two levels upstairs and a large basement. The fugitive run-away slaves stayed in the basement until they were to move along. The path , called a railroad, led to Decatur and northern Indiana and on to Pennsylvania, perhaps even to Canada.

Several cities in Illinois are considered haunted. The Santa skeleton may be a remnant of ghosts past.

The current Mineral Springs has several shops and one barbershop. The barber was one of the guides of tours in Alton with emphasis on seeing where ghosts once resided. The barber told of weird happenings at the old hotel, and of rumored murders and suicides. One of his stories was about the drowning of a young girl named Casandra who was at a birthday party at the Ladies pool. Her parents were having dinner and drinks in the hotel restaurant upstairs. At the birthday party the kids decided to swim in the pool and hastily changed clothes and jumped in. With all the splashing and laughter going on no one noticed the birthday girl was drowning. She is one of the ghosts of Mineral Springs. At the birthday the kids had played marbles. The barber said they were like marbles put in paint cans to mix paint. The marbles were grey. Ghosts were said to have played marbles in the bottom of the empty pool until it was permanently covered and filled. The barber has a jar full of marbles used by the ‘Birthday Girl’. The guide also took tours to cemeteries and homes in the area. The McPike Mansion was one of the most notable homes is located on North Alby Street. During the civil war it was a station for the Underground Railroad. It had two levels upstairs and a large basement. The fugitive run-away slaves stayed in the basement until they were to move along. The path , called a railroad, led to Decatur and northern Indiana and on to Pennsylvania, perhaps even to Canada. Several cities in Illinois are considered haunted. The Santa skeleton may be a remnant of ghosts past.

The Nubien Goat The Anglo-Nubien is a large goat, characterized by long legs, a markedly convex faeial profile and long thin pendulous ears. This British based domestic goat originated in the 19th century It is located in more than sixty countries. It is known simply as the NUBIEN. USE: MEAT AND DIARY Males – up to 310 LB Females: up to 240 LB Average height: 35 inches The Nubien Goat The Anglo-Nubien is a large goat, characterized by long legs, a markedly convex faeial profile and long thin pendulous ears. This British based domestic goat originated in the 19th century It is located in more than sixty countries. It is known simply as the NUBIEN. USE: MEAT AND DIARY Males – up to 310 LB Females: up to 240 LB Average height: 35 inches

The Piasa Bird painting on a bluff was interesting to him. He listened to me say PIASA as he had a different pronouncement. We went dow Broadway by the Mineral Springs Hotel; Henry Street and the Lovejoy Statue on Monument Drive near the Alton Clark Bridge. WE stayed there 10 -15 minutes. He had several comments and one of them stood out. “There is so much hate.” It still exists here.” The memorial is good and should be in Washington and Lovejoy be given more recognition for what he died for. I said “There are good peopled bad people.” He agreed. The cemetery is the oldest in Alton. We went by the Robert Wadlow monuments (he had seen them before)and circled Alton on the Homer Adams Highway. I pointed out the Amtrak station. The declining mall, closed stores, restaurants, the price of gas – $4.04 a gallon, A neighbor hood community bar – Johnson’s Corner. We went down McKinley Street, the only boulevard in Alton, and went into Fairmount where the elite had moved to during the heyday of Alton’s position as a city for the future. He loved the tour as the homes, grounds, roads, and views were impressive. From there we went down State Street to Bluff Street where I live. As he and I walked towards the door Jean was on the porch. I asked that Anthony not talk, he nodded OK. Jean didn’t look up as we were mere feet apart. My apartment appealed to him, he liked it immediately. We went into the guest room and he sat in the Barber’s Chair, I sat in Dad’s rocker. We had water to drink before going into each room. He was delighted and made comments about its looks and decor.

The Piasa Bird painting on a bluff was interesting to him. He Listened to me say PIASA as he had a different pronouncement. We went dow Broadway by the Mineral Springs Hotel; Henry Street and the Lovejoy Statue on Monument Drive near the Alton Clark Bridge. WE stayed there 1@ -15 minutes. He had several comments and one of them stood out. “There is so much hate.” It still exists here.” The memorial is good and should be in Washington and Lovejoy be given more recognition for what he died for. I said “There are good peopled bad people.” He agreed. The cemetery is the oldest in Alton.

We went by the Robert Wadlow monuments (Che had seen them before)and circled Alton on the Homer Adams Highway .

I pointed out the Amtrak station. The declining mall, closed stores, restaurants, the price of gas – $4.04 a gallon, A neighbor hood community bar – Johnson’s Corner. We went down McKinley Street, the only boulevard in Alton, and went into Fairmount where the elite had moved to during the heyday of Alton’s position as a city for the future. He Loved the tour as the homes, grounds, roads, and views were impressive.

From there we went down State Street to Bluff Street where I live. As he and I walked towards the door Jean was on the porch. I asked that Anthony not talk, he nodded OK. Jean didn’t Look up as we were mere feet apart.

My apartment appealed to him, he Liked it immediately. We went into the guest room and he sat in the Barber’s Chair, I sat in Dad’s rocker. We had water to drink before going into each room. He was delighted and made comments about its looks and decor.

There is something deep in our character that embraces the pioneering spirit, going where no one has ever gone before; doing what no one has ever done before. If an opportunity is truly new and different, it will attract our attention, our interest, and our participation. What matters most is that it brings a sense of discovery, a sort of “Wow, I never thought about it that way.” Novelty counts.

A string of words that have the same syllabic cadence is more memorable than a random collection of sounds: simplicity, brevity, credibility, consistency, and novelty stand out because they all end with the same sound.

“You can do it, I have faith in you," are not just words for children. These words let us know that there is confidence in our potential and challenges us to rise to the occasion and be our better selves. It makes idealists of us all.

It's sometimes not what you say but what you ask that really matters. “Will you be better off" is a simple question that rings true.

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The death of a cherished friend involves a personal grief that reaches the heart of our existence. The survivors often wonder how can they can cope with such a great loss.

The bravery of the soul, brings solace. The basic courage of our ex- istence forewarns that there are to be losses to us and burdens to endure in our journey of life. We are not alone in facing death.

The essence of knowing and loving a friend involves an awareness we were privileged to share life’s experience, to a degree, with the de- ceased. We know the good and bad, and with the personal and perma- nent loss comes an acceptance of the result. Knowing the fact that other lives were touched by her existence. Be it great or small, the common good is apparent upon mature reflection.

We must summon courage to exist, to do and preserve. We must do our best to exult a courage worthy of those who are gone.

Asta was a gentle person; kind and strong. She was enjoyable to be around and to talk with. She talked about her life and living and how much fun it was to be with her friends.

I think of her as a special woman with an incredible spirit. Iam saddened by Her loss, but thankful for her life.

John Casey

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The death of a cherished friend involves a personal grief that reaches the heart of our existence. The survivors often wonder how can they can cope with such a great loss.

The bravery of the soul, brings solace. The basic courage of our ex- istence forewarns that there are to be losses to us and burdens to endure in our journey of life. We are not alone in facing death.

The essence of knowing and loving a friend involves an awareness we wete privileged to share life’s experience, to a degree, with the de- ceased. We know the good and bad, and with the personal and perma- nent loss comes an acceptance of the result. Knowing the fact that other

® lives were touched by her existence. Be it great or small, the common good is apparent upon mature reflection.

We must summon courage to exist, to do and preserve. We must do our best to exult a courage worthy of those who are gone.

Hae Asta Sas a7gentle ferson; kind and strong. She was enjoyable to be around and to talk with. She talked about her life and living and how much fun it was to be with her friends.

I think of her as a special woman with an incredible spirit. Iam saddened by Her loss, but thankful for her life.

John Casey

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THE PRICE OF COURAGE

The death of a cherished friend involves a personal grief that reaches the heart of our existence. The survivors often wonder how can they can cope with such a great loss.

The bravery of the soul, brings solace. The basic courage of our ex- istence forewarns that there are to be losses to us and burdens to endure in our journey of life. We are not alone in facing death.

The essence of knowing and loving a friend involves an awareness we were privileged to share life’s experience, to a degree, with the de- ceased. We know the good and bad, and with the personal and perma- nent loss comes an acceptance of the result. Knowing the fact that other lives were touched by her existence. Be it great or small, the common good is appatent upon mature reflection.

We must summon courage to exist, to do and preserve. We must do our best to exult a coutage worthy of those who are gone.

Asta was a gentle person; kind and strong, She was enjoyable to be around and to tall with. She talked about her life and living and how much fun it was to be with her friends.

I think of her as a special woman with an incredible spirit. Tam saddened by Her loss, but thankful for her life.

John Casey

THE PRICE OF COURAGE

The death of a cherished friend involves a personal grief that reaches the heart of our existence. The survivors often wonder how can they can cope with such a great loss.

The bravery of the soul, brings solace. The basic courage of our ex- istence forewarns that there are to be losses to us and burdens to endure in our journey of life. We are not alone in facing death.

The essence of knowing and loving a friend involves an awareness we were privileged to share life’s experience, to a degree, with the de- ceased. We know the good and bad, and with the personal and perma- nent loss comes an acceptance of the result. Knowing the fact that other lives were touched by her existence. Be it great or small, the common good is apparent upon mature reflection.

We must summon courage to exist, to do and preserve. We must do our best to exult a courage worthy of those who are gone.

Asta was a gentle person; kind and strong. She was enjoyable to be around and to talk with. She talked about her life and living and how much fun it was to be with her friends.

I think of her as a special woman with an incredible spirit. I am saddened by Her loss, but thankful for her life.

John Casey

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THE PRICE OF COURAGE

The death of a cherished friend involves a personal grief that reaches the heart of our existence. The survivors often wonder how can they can cope with such a great loss.

The bravery of the soul, brings solace. The basic courage of our ex- istence forewarns that there are to be losses to us and burdens to endure in our journey of life. We are not alone in facing death.

The essence of knowing and loving a friend involves an awareness we were privileged to share life’s experience, to a degree, with the de- ceased. We know the good and bad, and with the personal and perma- nent loss comes an acceptance of the result. Knowing the fact that other lives were touched by her existence. Be it great or small, the common prar? good is apparent upon mature reflection.

We must summon courage to exist, to do and preserve. We must do our best to exult a courage worthy of those who are gone.

Asta was a gentle person; kind and strong. She was enjoyable to be around and to talk with. She talked about her life and living and how much fun it was to be with her friends.

I think of her as a special woman with an incredible spirit. Iam saddened by Her loss, but thankful for her life.

John Casey

THE PRICE OF COURAGE

The death of a family member involves a personal grief that reaches the heart of our existence. The survivors often wonder how can they can cope with such a great loss.

The bravery of the soul, brings solace. The basic courage of our ex- istence forewarns that there are to be losses to us and burdens to endure in our journey of life. We are not alone in facing death.

The essence of knowing and loving a family member involves an awareness we were privileged to share life’s experience, to a degree, with the deceased. We know the good and bad, and with the personal and per- manent loss comes an acceptance of the result. Knowing the fact that other lives were touched by his or her existence. Be it great or small, the common good is apparent upon mature reflection.

We must summon courage to exist, to do and preserve. We must do our best to exult a courage worthy of those who are gone.

THE ROMOTE CONTROL WAS LOCKED IN HIS HAND AND HE WAS FAST ASLEEP ON THE DIVAN

As I grow in age I value people over 60 most of all There are very little screaming matches But I’m sure that they would shoot you If they thought they could get away with it

They are sometimes generous with praise Often undeserved For those who give praise, don’t expect it in return For reciprocity ended decades ago

Being hot does not refer to being stunning Smart or well dressed It’s probably due to the tight sweat or wind pants Bound over a paunchy middle

You never have to confess your sins Being past 60 is redemption enough If you act like a jerk Expect to be told right away that you are one

When you begin to believe That your existence is to ensure their happiness When they ignore you totally and walk all over you Shrug it off because you can, You’re old too

We don’t know what tomorrow brings So Live every day with enjoyment Who knows?

Tomorrow you just might get the remote Je – 3/2007

The Scorpion Eagle Rita Hernendez- Christenson

This Scorp can be unbelievably loyal and fiercely protective of anyone who has ever been kind to her.

Her true identity is that of a warm And loving friend

Capable of intense devotion

Who will always be there.

Scorps enjoy competitive sports And to this Eagle, not to win Is a cardinal sin.

Her man is still hers, so is his heart,

And every other part of him,

Including the most important part, his spirit. He comes home each night,

And kisses her on her nose each morning.

He’s a proud possessor

Of the deep devotion and thrilling, mystery of her. She greatly admires his honesty,

Though sometimes it wounds her vulnerable heart.

He woke up and learned to value This woman’s rare love.

She will never break his spirit, Or sky-blue dreams.

Her love is all consuming, concentrated,

And at certain magical and memorable moments, Deep-beyond-deep.

She is a secure port in a storm.

Happy Birthday, Rita Hernandez — Christinson

Pardon me for misspellings, etc…

John Casey 11-08-2001

The scruffy bluff along the Illinois River shows rock strata dating back thousands of years. I’m near the river sitting on a bolder that has fallen from the bluff. The low afternoon sun warms my face. A light breeze rattles leaves ever so slightly and makes ripples in the water. The“gr e e e ke” call of a heron and gentle waves produce lapping sounds. A pen is my company, a boulder is my perch and I find relief from unanswerable questions and I wonder silently.

With a bowed head the unseeing eyes of my companion peer in the murky water. Sadness is occurring but it can not be erased by lonely questions, only deepened. “Nobody loves me,” was a comment I heard her say in the car as we came to this place. So was, “Don’t slam the door”. I heard them clearly and choose not to answer or make a remark. This place was chosen to recall the anguish of a troubled past. I was not a part of it nor invited to join the sad vigil.

For an hour I sat quietly alone. I sought the comfort of the car and the promise of a nap, but it was locked. I penned a few idiotic phrases to pass the time and practiced writing humor to quell my uneasiness. “The more I learn about people, the more I like my dog”. Mark Twain. Strangers think I’m quiet, my friends think I’m outgoing, my best friends know I’m insane. .Author unknown. And, “my doctor asked if I suffered from insanity, no, I replied, I rather like it.

I was happy to be on the road again. The projectile (car) would carry us somewhere. I hoped it would be a happy place. A change would do me good.

THE SHOT HEARD ROUND THE WORLD – how much do you know?

This quiz regarding the above topic is a “work in progress.” Hopefully, it will test your general and perhaps specific knowledge of the event.

What was THE SHOT HEARD ROUND THE WORLD?

Name the batter who hit it?

Name the pitcher who pitched it to him? When was the game played? The year is OK Where was the game played? (stadium) What two teams played?

Who were the managers?

Who were the catchers in the game? Who were the starting pitchers? Name other players on each team (as many as you can, include rosters)

Name the black players on each team’s roster?

Name the famous announcers calling the game Bonus: What was the call?

Who were the two players who received their World Series Bonus before the Series started that year? and Bonus: How much were they paid? and (If you know this you’re good)

The Record for both teams was exactly the same when the season ended. What was it? :

How many home runs did the hitter of “THE SHOT” hit during the season?

The Batter wore the # of the year of his birth what was the number? (2 digit #) The Pitcher wore an ironic number, what was the number?.

Name Hall of Fame Players / Managers on each teams roster:

Spell the name of the Batter that hit “THE SHOT”: Spell the name of the Pitcher who threw the pitch: Bonus: What is the name of the pitcher he relieved? What was the count?

What was the pitch?

What was the name of the batter on deck?

Both Pitcher and Batter had the same nickname. What was it?

One drove a Mercury, the other drove an Oldsmobile. Match them to their cars: drove an Olsmobile drove a Mercury

What was the final score of the game? at 3:58 PM on

What is the smallest nice thing you do for other people? Not your friends of siblings, but people you don’t know.

| comment favorably on someone with curly hair. 35% of people have naturally curly hair. It is passed down in genes.

| comment favorably on someone’s smile: extra effort, or a kind comment. | comment on painted nails.

When | shop and my total purchase is say, $18.65 to $19.20, | say “That's my birthday?” Or, “That’s the year | was born.” It always brings a smile.

Yesterday, | made a quick trip to the grocery store and my total was $17.76. | said, “I think that was when | was born.” The clerk barely looked up, but he did. He completed the receipt, handed it to me and said, “Looks like you are holding up fine.”

He recognized the quip was meant in kindness and he acknowledged it. Wit and humor are sometimes very close, but Humor trumps wit in most cases.

What is the smallest nice thing you do for people on a regular basis who are not other people like your best friend or family or People you don’t know or are likely to see often or again? Someone who has curly hair gets my attention. My son is a hair stylist and is a hair artist, so to speak. He has several clients who have curls who like what he does to make them feel great. When I grocery shop I began to notice any check-out clerk who had curly hair. Often I commented to them. Sometimes I simply say, “I like your curly hair.” Not all comments are the same. The reaction is always positive whether it is a thank you or a comment. I’m not flirting. It doesn’t matter what age or sex a person is, it’s about curly hair and it is positive compliment. Another small thing I do often is when my total purchase is a number between $18.00 and $19.20 I say, “that’s my birthday,” or “That’s the year I was born.” It seems that it always brings a glance at me and a smile. Yesterday I purchased a few grocery items and the total was $1 7 .76. I said, “I think that’s when I was born.” The clerk was a young man and he looked at me and didn’t say a word at first. He bagged my purchases and remarked, “You are holding up rather well.” Being kind is not hard.

What is the smallest nice thing you do for other people? Not your friends of siblings, but people you don’t know. I comment favorably on someone with curly hair. 35% of people have naturally curly hair. It is passed down in genes. I comment favorably on someone’s smile: extra effort, or a kind comment. I comment on painted nails. When I shop and my total purchase is say, `$18.65 to $19.20, I say “That’s my birthday?” Or, “That’s the year I was born.” It always brings a smile. Yesterday, I made a quick trip to the grocery store and my total was $17.76. I said, “I think that was when I was born.” The clerk barely looked up, but he did. He completed the receipt, handed it to me and said, “Looks like you are holding up fine.” He recognized the quip was meant in kindness and he acknowledged it. Wit and humor are sometimes very close, but Humor trumps wit in most cases.

The speed of my life needs to slow down. I am going to make a conscious effort to reduce activities and concentrate on adjusting priorities. One area is food and I spend a lot of time on food; from shopping, storing, cooking, eating, and cleaning up.

From time to time I will pull out all cookbooks, cull them for keeping and take the others to book fairs, sales, or give them away to anyone. Also, I must do that with single sheet recopies, notes and odds and ends. I box and sort them and on & on. Next, I will review the hardware cooking stuff. I will store those items that I use occasionally, pitch the ones I seldom use.

I don’t have company over for meals or snacks much. Ditto, parties and special events like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and holidays. I would be better off going out or getting a complete meal and not trying to cook everything. I don’t need lots of left-over’s either.

I like all kinds of foods, but need to cut down on large portions and less variety. Going out to eat is not all that great either. My fridge is packed with bottles and packages. My pantry is too. I must keep less and make sure it is fresh and used.

It will be hard to change the way I approach my need for food. I have way too many herbs and spices and should inventory them and find a way to store them conveniently. During my party preparation I ripped through my pantry and ditched lots of stuff. I'll continue.

The pots and pans, etc, need to be sorted and many of them stored and or pitched (or given away). Lids too. Same for blenders, choppers, and electric devices. On and on I go through the cupboard. I can fill a large container with good, usable, and specialty devices. I can’t neglect dishes, cups, glasses, or storage containers either. The same is true with small tools, knives, and gizmos.

I need much less stuff so that I can channel my energy and attention on priorities that are important. My goal is to minimize as much as possible. I will stay on course until I make a difference in most of my small house stuff. Last year I minimized large stuff and it improved the livability of my space. Now I must do it again.

In ten days or less I will accomplish more than 50% of my goals.

Do you have a mystery?

Is there something you don’t tell?

Is there a story I don’t know?

Is there a somewhere where you go? Is it somewhere I don’t know?

Is it somewhere where you cry?

Is it somewhere where you laugh? Is it somewhere where you hide?

Sometimes the two cool Richards were more than I could take and I would seek refuge from their frosty souls. It’s a fact, I hate losing more than I love winning. I can always do my best though and have made that a mantra for all the games I play.

Since leaving college I have not played a game of any sorts with Dick Gunn, but I have kept up with him somewhat. He earned a Doctorate and became a legendary history professor at Wisconsin. I met him one summer when he and his teen aged son were taking a tour to visit many of baseball’s major league parks. Dick was comfortable and smiling. I noticed.

Dick Gerber had a distinguished career as an educator and an amazing record as a golf coach. I’ve seen him with his youngest son and Dick’s joy was unmasked. He too, was comfortable and smiling.

Since 1976 I have played several games of golf with and against Dick Gerber. I remember the games more than he does as he was focused on killing me on the course and wanting to be friends when we finished. I told him I was a sore loser.

“Leave me the hell alone for a bit, Richard!”

John Casey

435 4 ‘Bluff St.

Alton, IL 62002 618-670-5646 Jrcasey134@gmail.com 835

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Inside the building, the young swallows, having had enough of the goings on below got out of their nests and flew away.

PAPER AIRPLANES in Tunnel Hill

The porch of Ramsey Alexander’s was the launching pad for paper airplanes for many of Tunnel Hill’s flyers. The Alexander house was on a hill and the front porch, facing east, was much higher than the slanting yard. At least two flyers, sometimes three, would poise their paper planes and on a count, toss them out into the air towards the fence in the front yard. Good planes could clear the fence. An assortment of designs was displayed by the boys of Tunnel Hill that were fortunate to fly planes from the Alexander’s porch. 1950’s.

Trivia — who was the sibling who was a professional hunting guide? Terry Wayne Casey (named for Terry and The Pirates, a poplar radio broadcast at the time of Terry’s birth) guided for goose hunters.

The Hole: There’s a hole in the middle of a hill in Tunnel Hill and it’s been there at least since 1929. Bet you can’t guess how many trains went through the tunnel or how many people. But, when the hole was young a lot fewer people and a whole lot of trains went through the tunnel. Bicycle riders and walkers by the hundreds go through the tunnel each week during good weather.

The Breeden Trestle: The 90 foot span trestle is about 2 2 miles from the south end of the tunnel at Tunnel Hill. A small trickle of a creek runs under the trestle and bluffs are nearby. The trestle is a favorite place for bikers and hikers to rest and perhaps have a snack.

The Amish among us: A blackberry pie costs $5.00. I might eat a whole one, but one piece is usually all I get. The Amish also bake bread and cakes among other things. Amish don’t like to get their pictures taken.

I give my opinion freely and don't expect arguments, although the opinions may not be conventional thinking. Cosmic? There is a great deal of emotion in my words or voice. I am trying to listen to me.

It's OK with me to be this way. I have done it before. The pattern is change, of course. Don't you do this sort of thing when you are making up your mind about things – people, events? Sure you do.

For several years I have been unable to concentrate as much as I have in the past. Fraritmented and spot thinking was the norm. I pushed on and tried, but concentration was just not-the way it was. Why? Stress? It seems like a cop out to me to say that stress kept me from it. A little wacky? My thinking was superficial or at least recessed. It is easy to repress – not fun

My temperment may have changed some. Most of the time, it was OK, but there was the periods of questioning. I needed direction, but found others busy trying for the same things. "Lets talk" had new meaning.

There has been a new wanting to get better at golf that seems to spark me, but it is not necessarily the best think I could do. Work and family always came first, really. Work was sometimes primary – | khow that. Family shrunk through death and distance. I felt alone

My fault, I thought, for not keeping in touch more and not making the effort to make the family all important. Come to think of it, how many of my family ever saw me play a game of baseball? Golf? Guilt? There is no making up for past deeds and you can't cram life into time.

Relax? That is not forme. Keep on going. I want to be intact and take pretty (average) care of my health needs.

Change is coming, I feel it.

\ ony

They get stupefied, Sodden and tipsy, Stewed, and bombed. Crocked, loaded and looped.

They get pickled, plastered and potted, Sloshed, smashed and zonked. They falter and lurch,

Reel, stumble and tumble.

They’re exceptional, extraordinary, and outstanding. They’re aducious and bodacious, Prone to riot and rumble, And they’re pluck and game.

Uh-huh, it is so, They’re definitely not from a mold That you shape, bend or cast. They’re true, frank, and their style will last.

They are wise crackers, Sauce boxes, flippant and whizes. They are rabid and create a commotion As they zip and zoom.

They’re cheeky, a fraternity, a union. They are ceaseless, constant, continual, Eternal, incessant, non-stop, ongoing, Perpetual, unfailing, and unique.

They’re joined, linked and they back, Endorse, support, hold, meld, Elevate, hoist, raise, and advocate.

They're unending — they're buds. John Casey — 12-26-02

THINGS THAT MEAN ETHING AND THINGS THAT DON

PLURAL. Putting money in a kitty for gas Farming & Fishing Cooking & eating Filling up the gas tank after fishing The first fish and last fish of the day — “fish on” Lighted lanterns Ice & ROCKS, ROCKS, ROCKS Wire leaders The Journal Moose, deer, eagles Beavers, lodges, dams, & sticks Mink — Otters, & Loons — wow! Mallards, Terns, Crows, and Kingfishers Reefs, points, drop offs, weed beds, reeds, water cabbage The Northern Lights, Mars, the Milky Way, constellations Squalls, and rain drops on the dark water Warm water showers Laughter and jokes, even horrid ones Singing, including karoke Duty free shop Wild red raspberries Ferns and wet flowers in the woods Dark quiet nights and bright quiet days Shore lunch Jogs in the woods Duluth, International Falls — northwestern ONTARIO Chugs, spinners, spoons, sticks, jigs, minnows and worms — shared Rowing a boat, running a boat Filets, soup, milk Experience and adventure & awe of nature Appreciation of everyone and everything A depth finder Sharing time together in a wild place — meeting new people Homemade ice cream at the dock and weigh in “I'll meet you round the corner in a half-an-hour”

Don'ts I must have absent-mindedly mislaid the short list. John Casey 8/1/03

The house I live in has a charm and grace of a time past. It is different from any place I have ever lived, and I think I was meant to live here in this old house so that I could appreciate that getting older is not so bad after all. I hope you like this story and that it makes you recall and appreciate your own home.

This Old Alton Home

live in a house built in 1905. It’s grey and has suffered the abrasions and contusions of being here for more than a century. It does not look gentle though, having been exposed to nature’s rages against it. It has a melancholy atmosphere with traces of the existence of former occupants. The wood window frames are worn and wrinkled from the heat and cold they have endured. In the winter the windows barely resist the blasts of freezing air and even a slight breeze will make them shudder and rattle. In the winter when trees are bare, from my kitchen windows, I can see the Mississippi River.

The wood floors are uneven, worn and stained, but will brighten with a touch of oil or polish. It has tall ceilings and wonderful ornate solid wood doors in every room. Old photos along with bundles of hand written letters may be tucked into secret hiding places in the attic. I know. I put them there. The furnace in the basement is big, grey and lumbering and has often been repaired.

A gnarled old maple tree rests in a corner of the front yard. It too is showing its age with many of its appendages gone, as though it has come back from a war. It looks cranky and unsuited for photographs. Dogs pee on it, and black snakes slither in the heavy vines at its base. Squirrels and birds visit the tree for the buds, and I suspect a tiny screech owl with a great voice has a home in a high-up hole. A tall skinny elm tree anchors the east edge of the property.

The path on the east side of the house is made of uneven sand stones that came from the nearby cavernous pits; likely carried and placed there by the original owners.

The street by the house is paved with uneven sun-faded red bricks that due to their irregular surfaces have been efficient speed bumps for chattering Model T’s as well as the modern SUVs and sedans. Children have the right away in the streets where they play games that only children can invent. When a vehicle comes along, the children politely wave them through and resume their game.

Ihave a recreational 8 foot X 8 foot garden behind the house that has produces gently cared for vegetables, like tomatoes, carrots, onions, radishes, lettuce, peppers, herbs and strawberries. It takes but minutes to disturb the ground, pull weeds or prune plants, and less than that to sample a near ripe edible.

The front porch is a haven for three seasons of the year. I enjoy the view, but more than that I enjoy the serenity, as well as the occasional storm experiences when I’m there. Animal walkers of all sizes and ages walk by with dogs of all sizes and ages. I know most of the walkers and a few of the dogs by name and call them out when they come by and they usually look up and I say hello. Now and then a feline trails nonchalantly behind their so called owners; staff to the cat.

Jr |

__Atyp TELpGRAPH

live in a house built

in 1905. It’s a drab

grey color. The wood

window frames are worn and wrinkled from the heat and cold they have endured for over a century. In winter the windows barely resist the blasts of freezing air, A slight breeze in any sea- son will make them shud- der and rattle. The house has tall ceilings and each room has a lovely old wood door that may not fit exactly. The hardwood floors are uneven and worn, but they will shine brightly with a touch of wood polish or oil. The furnace in the basement is big, grey and lumber- ing and has often been repaired.

A gnarled old maple tree rests in the front yard. It too is showing its age with many of its ap- pendages gone, as though it has came back from a war. It looks cranky and unsuited for photographs. Dogs pee on it, black snakes slither in the -heavy vines at its base.

Sunday, July 14,9010 –

JOHN CASEY GUEST

COLUMNIST

even sun-faded red bricks that due to their irregu- lar surfaces have been efficient speed bumps for chattering Model T’s as well as the modern SUVs and sedans. Children have the right of way in the streets, and well they should. In all but the cru- elest weather kids gather to play stick ball and any kind of game that kids can invent. When a. ve- hicle approaches, they politely wave through the slow-moving vehicle and resume their games.

IT enjoy the sweet decadence of this stately old house and the neigh- borhood. I love this old wreck of a building and its tree cousins. They . complement each other. I wouldn’t trade this place for one of those efficient houses in the suburbs void of all but the tini-

Now and then squirrels °s*ytrees and trimmed

and birds visit the tree for the maple buds and I suspect a screech owl has had a home in a high-up hole in the tree. A skinny and tall elm tree anchors the northeast corner of the lot. Neighborhood eats sneak around the trees ready to pounce on anything.

The stone path on the east side of the house is made of uneven shaped sand stones, likely car- tied there by the original owners. The stones came from the nearby cavern-

“ous pits. In the winter

when the trees are bare I can see the Mississippi River from the kitchen windows

shrubs.

This house, this neigh- borhood, gives me a spe-¢ cial appreciation of the struggles of living and the unique characteristic of each thing. They are not gentle though, having been exposed to nature’s rages against them. Old buildings and fading trees burn their brightest before they yield to time. One day, long from now, they will be gone. We are sad for the going, but ex- hilarated over the beauty of their existence.

John Casey of Alton is curi- ous consistently and loves reading, writing and adventures. He is an agent with Coldwell Banker

a Lov? This Old House

I live in a house built in 1905. It’s a drab grey color. The wood window frames are worm and wrinkled from the heat and cold they have endured for over a century. In winter the windows barely resist the blasts of freezing air. A slight breeze in any season will make them shudder and rattle. The house has tall ceilings and each room has a lovely old wood door that may not fit exactly. The hardwood floors are uneven and worn, but they will shine brightly with a touch of wood polish or oil. The furnace in the basement is big, grey and lumbering and has often been repaired.

A gnarled old maple tree rests in the front yard. It too is showing its age with many of its appendages gone, as though it has came back from a war It looks cranky and unsuited for photographs. Dogs pee on it, black snakes slither in the heavy vines at its base. Now and then squirrels and birds visit the tree for the maple buds and I suspect a screech owl has had a home in a high-up hole in the tree. A skinny tall elm tree anchors the northeast comer of the lot. Neighborhood cats sneak around the trees ready to pounce on a slow squirrel or bird.

The stone path on the east side of the house is made of uneven shaped sand stones, likely carried there by the original owners. The stones came from the nearby cavernous pits. In the winter when the trees are bare I can see the Mississippi River from the kitchen windows.

The street the house is on is on is paved with uneven sun faded red bricks that due to their irregular surfaces have been efficient speed bumps for chattering Model Ts as well as the modern SUVs and sedans. Children have the right-of-way in the streets and well they should. In all but the foulest weather kids gather to play stick ball and any kind of game that kids can invent. When a vehicle approaches they politely wave the slow moving vehicle through and resume their games.

I enjoy the sweet decadence of this stately old house and the neighborhood. I love this old wreck of a building and its tree cousins. They compliment each other. I wouldn’t trade this place for one of those efficient houses in the suburbs void of all but the tiniest trees and trimmed shrubs.

This house, this neighborhood, gives me a special appreciation of the struggles of living and the unique characteristic of each thing. They are not gentle though, having been exposed to nature’s rages against them. Old building and fading trees burn their brightest before they yield to time. One day, long from now, they will be gone. We are sad for the going, but exhilarated over the beauty of their existence.

John Casey

435 4 Bluff St. Alton, IL 62002 618-660-5646

jrcasey134@gmail.com 492

This Old House

I live in a house built in 1905. It’s a drab grey color. The wood window frames are worn and wrinkled from the heat and cold they have endured for over a century. In winter the windows barely resist the blasts of freezing air. A slight breeze in any season will make them shudder and rattle. The house has tall ceilings and each room has a lovely old wood door that may not fit exactly. The hardwood floors are uneven and worn, but they will shine brightly with a touch of wood polish or oil. The furnace in the basement is big, grey and lumbering and has often been repaired.

A gnarled old maple tree rests in the front yard. It too is showing its age with many of its appendages gone, as though it has came back from a war It looks cranky and unsuited for photographs. Dogs pee on it, black snakes slither in the heavy vines at its base. Now and then squirrels and birds visit the tree for the maple buds and I suspect a screech owl has had a home in a high-up hole in the tree. A skinny tall elm tree anchors the northeast corner of the lot. Neighborhood cats sneak around the trees ready to pounce on a slow squirrel or bird.

The stone path on the east side of the house is made of uneven shaped sand stones, likely carried there by the original owners. The stones came from the nearby cavernous pits. In the winter when the trees are bare I can see the Mississippi River from the kitchen windows.

The street the house is on is on is paved with uneven sun faded red bricks that due to their irregular surfaces have been efficient speed bumps for chattering Model Ts as well as the modern SUVs and sedans. Children have the right-of-way in the streets and well they should. In all but the foulest weather kids gather to play stick ball and any kind of game that kids can invent. When a vehicle approaches they politely wave the slow moving vehicle through and resume their games.

I enjoy the sweet decadence of this stately old house and the neighborhood. I love this old wreck of a building and its tree cousins. They compliment each other. I wouldn’t trade this place for one of those efficient houses in the suburbs void of all but the tiniest trees and trimmed shrubs.

This house, this neighborhood, gives me a special appreciation of the struggles of living and the unique characteristic of each thing. They are not gentle though, having been exposed to nature’s rages against them. Old building and fading trees burn their brightest before they yield to time. One day, long from now, they will be gone. We are sad for the going, but exhilarated over the beauty of their existence.

John Casey

435 Ya Bluff St. Alton, IL 62002 618-660-5646

jrcasey 134@gmail.com 492

Throw Johnny From The Train

‘Zing went the strings to my heart or was that the bullet whizzing by my ears. It’s a good thing I have my Kelvar jacket on. Down the tracks we went on the speeding train heading for the crescent city of New Orleans. 5

Living dangerously has never been my cup of tea, but it was almost the millennium and why not. A second failed marriage and the painful parting with honey and money left me breathless. Good guys finishing first were out the window and maybe it was time to live on the wild side. I had an opening and I took it. I did not know it was a trap.

Bait was an incredibly beautiful woman. Heretofore I had managed to date many beautiful damsels and to marry two of them. I had been married almost 25 years in the two stints and never strayed out of my 2 pen. Now single, my eyes were opened to opportunities and many came knocking. a“

I thought it would be easy to buy tickets with cash and not have to give the attendant my name. I pon tried but had to use my identity in case the Amtrak derailed. OK. So next I arranged to meet this wasp waist eye candy 9.99 caliber beauty some 45 miles from hometown. Sure I was nervous, but acted casual and did my impression of being cool without sunglasses and eyeballing everyone I saw that might recognize me.

None did. Maybe her husband bought the idea that she could go to New Orleans alone and meet her business buddies. Maybe her husband was crazy.

Nary a step did I take that very long weekend that was not exciting. The food tasted good, sights were terrific, and I only had my picture taken once under the banana tree just outside our room in the French Quarter. I was there all right and alive.

Tracking back up the line on Sunday evening was as delightful as the trip down. The clackety clack of the train, plus exhaustion put us to sleep and down the tracks we went.

Could be that I thought I was going to Chicago because I did not recognize the calling out of the stop where I was to disembark. “Last call for Carbondale,” and it dawned on me that was where I belon;

It was midnight and I had on shorts and the doors looked locked. —~~—

“You'll have to jump.” She said and began trying to pry the window open in the hallway. I looked down and it seemed like a long way down and there were rocks, tracks, and surely nails down there. Desperate I ran down the hall and started hollering, “Conductor, Conductor, I want off.” “Jump,” she said. “Throw your bag down and jump on it.” Can you believe that? I was going to die anyway someday; I just didn’t want to right then. I had been to heaven in Sin City and I had a good memory and wanted to use it a few more times.

I thought the train was moving out when the doors opened and the Conductor came in and saw us in the hallway. Ina few minutes I got off of that train and watched it disappear as it headed north. She was going to just throw me from the train and head back into her perfect world. I wondered if she would attend my wake and decided that she wouldn't.

The very private affair lasted a long time and it was always exciting. I felt invisible, but not invincible.

I wrote my epitaph several times and one of them was, “He was thrown from a train.”

To be deeply and empathetically understood is one of the most fulfilling and freeing experiences of humankind. The desire to understand deeply is truly a gift of love. The sheer joy of being understood is a cherished gift.

The Mask

Don’t be fooled by me Don’t be fooled by the face I wear

For I wear a mask

I wear a thousand masks

I try to give the impression that I’m secure That all is sunny and unruffled with me

That confidence is my name

And coolness my game

That the water’s calm and I’m in command And that Ineed no one

Don’t believe me

Please

My surface may seem smooth But my surface is my mask

Beneath dwells the real me

In confusion, in fear, in aloneness

Pll idly chatter to you and

Tell you things, that’s really nothing When I go through this routine Don’t be fooled

I create a mask to hide behind

A nonchalant fagade to help me pretend To shield me from the glance that knows But a glance is my salvation and I know it

If the glance is followed by acceptance It’s what I seek

To assure me

I’m really worth something

Each time you’re kind, gentle and encouraging

Each time you try to understand because you really care My heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings But wings

‘Your sensitivity breathes life into me

I want you to know how important you are to me How you break down the walls behind which I tremble And remove my mask

To be deeply and empathetically understood is one of the most fulfilling and freeing experiences of humankind. The desire to understand deeply is truly a gift of love. The sheer joy of being understood is a cherished gift.

The Mask

Don’t be fooled by me Don’t be fooled by the face I wear

For I wear a mask

I wear a thousand masks

I try to give the impression that I’m secure That all is sunny and unruffled with me

That confidence is my name

And coolness my game

That the water’s calm and I’m in command And that I need no one

Don’t believe me

Please

My surface may seem smooth But my surface is my mask

Beneath dwells the real me

In confusion, in fear, in aloneness

I'll idly chatter to you and

Tell you things, that’s really nothing When I go through this routine Don’t be fooled

I create a mask to hide behind

A nonchalant fagade to help me pretend To shield me from the glance that knows But a glance is my salvation and I know it

If the glance is followed by acceptance It’s what I seek

To assure me

I’m really worth something

Each time you’re kind, gentle and encouraging

Each time you try to understand because you really care My heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings But wings

Your sensitivity breathes life into me

I want you to know how important you are to me How you break down the walls behind which I tremble And remove my mask

The original page will appear here.

TODAY IS DECEMBER 18, 2020.

WITH A VOTE OF 229 TO 198 ONE YEAR AGO TODAY, December 18, 2019, DONAD J. TRUMP WAS IMPEACHED. IT WILL BEA PERMANENT DESIGNATION FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. It is appropriate to say he is the Impeached President Donald J. Trump.

Johnson was impeached in 1868.

Clinton was impeached in 1998

Nixon resigned in 1974 and avoided being impeached.

With Trump Americans have become: Sicker poorer Meaner Weaker less employed isolated

Some have become less: Respectful Trusting Proud Truthful Humble kind lawful patient

Some have become more: Angry hateful mocking impatient afraid agressive alone tty

har!

Some folks say to me, "you have t00 much time on your hands."

| reply. | have just the same amount of time every day of my life as you do. Exactly 24 hours." Sounds correct, doesn't it? If you have less time that me that would be news. I'l bet you don't. Maybe you use your time better. What do you spend your time doing?

| thought about taking up smoking to kill time. Maybe increasing my drinking time, Spendng more time loafing, eating more – you know – important things to do with my time.

Well, to fill some of my time | do exercises, work on projects, read, write, and sometimes think. | got interested in finding Out what some people want to know or what to do about some things. So, | created an advice column.

My first venture will be my last. Here is a sampling of what went on. Ill let you be the judge if | did the right thing to stop.

There is a remarkable phenomenon after trauma; the recovery of health and vitality and a feeling of wellness. Where does it come from?

Awareness of self; knowing you have made it through and can see a brighter, lighter life ahead of you. I also believe it is from the hugs and words you received that showed someone cared for you; who gave you strength, plus a positive self worth.

You earned your recovery and there is a newness and enjoyment to your life. On with it!

pean, 7 TAXA

There are several pairs of travelers from Michigan on their way to San Antonio. They are very cheerful and all talk loudly. The other passengers are generally contorted in their large seats, some with their eyes closed, most are feigning sleep.

A train spokesman has just spoken to us over the intercom and warned us that if we are caught smoking on the train a lawman will arrest us at the next stop and we will be hanged and our baggage held. I don’t smoke and would not turn in anyone who does.

I was amazed and disappointed in seeing so much junk and debris along the train route. A lot of houses backed up to the train tracks and there was a lot of junk in yards.

It’s 7:30 a.m. Tuesday morning. Bleak describes the landscape outside the slow moving train. Scrubby pines and even scrubbier hard woods abound outside. Here and there tall trees with sprouts of mistletoe on high limbs indicate birds once perched on them. On the inside rail was the twelfth freight train I’ve seen passes our barely moving train. Graffiti adorn many oil cars on the freight train. The graffiti, some very artistic, will also appear on briage pillars and concrete walls.

The sky remains light grey without a hint of the sun. It mid morning. Houses, some blue, some pale yellow, are scattered along the land that borders the tracks. Yards are motley and have an assortment of THINGS, like cars, trucks, swing sets, and an occasional trampoline in need of bouncy boys and girls. Christmas tree lights hang on the eaves of houses in bad need of paint. Our train passes a sprawling refinery that somewhat resembles what you would expect an inexperienced Lego builder would construct.

Back on the train chattering and laughing somewhat overweight ladies emerge from the dining car. Their shrill voices echo off of the plastic lined walls and the thick windows. There is a din of human voices throughout the observation car and strangers ask strangers about destinations in hopes that they can tell theirs. In the past 100 miles there has been no change in the austere landscape. Rust is the color of the ground, cars, sheds, and the rails that carry the heavy cars. The ever moaning train whistle signals the approach of a railroad crossing.

As the train picks up speed the landscape improves; houses are bigger; paint is newer; cars are Cleaner; trees are fewer and taller; cattle are fatter; horses sleeker and the next stop promises of leg stretches and body movement.

It’s 11:20 p.m. and we have just pulled into Dallas. I've asked about whether we might see the place where John Kennedy was shot and the train conductor pointed out the Texas School Book Depository Building just a few blocks from the station. The train would pass right by Daley Plaza. I alerted several people and we had a great view of the scene. On November 22, 1963 I had just finished washing potatoes in the kitchen of Pemberton Hall at Eastern Illinois University at Charleston, when news of the president being shot reached us. I had an American History (Dr. Boyer) exam immediately after hearing the

There are several pairs of travelers from Michigan on their way to San Antonio. They are very cheerful and all talk loudly. The other passengers are generally contorted in their large seats, some with their eyes closed, most are feigning sleep.

A train spokesman has just spoken to us over the intercom and warned us that if we are caught smoking on the train a lawman will arrest us at the next stop and we will be hanged and our baggage held. I don’t smoke and would not turn in anyone who does.

I was amazed and disappointed in seeing so much junk and debris along the train route. A lot of houses backed up to the train tracks and there was a lot of junk in yards.

It’s 7:30 a.m. Tuesday morning. Bleak describes the landscape outside the slow moving train. Scrubby pines and even scrubbier hard woods abound outside. Here and there tall trees with sprouts of mistletoe on high limbs indicate birds once perched on them. On the inside rail was the twelfth freight train I’ve seen passes our barely moving train. Graffiti adorn many oil cars on the freight train. The graffiti, some very artistic, will also appear on bridge pillars and concrete walls.

The sky remains light grey without a hint of the sun. It’s mid morning. Houses, some blue, some pale yellow, are scattered along the land that borders the tracks. Yards are motley and have an assortment of THINGS, like cars, trucks, swing sets, and an occasional trampoline in need of bouncy boys and girls. Christmas tree lights hang on the eaves of houses in bad need of paint. Our train passes a sprawling refinery that somewhat resembles what you would expect an inexperienced Lego builder would construct.

Back on the train chattering and laughing somewhat overweight ladies emerge from the dining car. Their shrill voices echo off of the plastic lined walls and the thick windows. There is a din of human voices throughout the observation car and strangers ask strangers about destinations in hopes that they can tell theirs. In the past 100 miles there has been no change in the austere landscape. Rust is the color of the ground, cars, sheds, and the rails that carry the heavy cars. The ever moaning train whistle signals the approach of a railroad crossing.

As the train picks up speed the landscape improves; houses are bigger; paint is newer; cars are cleaner; trees are fewer and taller; cattle are fatter; horses sleeker and the next stop promises of leg stretches and body movement.

It’s 11:20 p.m. and we have just pulled into Dallas. I’ve asked about whether we might see the place where John Kennedy was shot and the train conductor pointed out the Texas School Book Depository Building just a few blocks from the station. The train would pass right by Daley Plaza. I alerted several people and we had a great view of the scene. On November 22, 1963 I had just finished washing potatoes in the kitchen of Pemberton Hall at Eastern Illinois University at Charleston, when news of the president being shot reached us. I had an American History (Dr. Boyer) exam immediately after hearing the

There are several pairs of travelers from Michigan on their way to San Antonio. They are very cheerful and all talk loudly. The other passengers are generally contorted in their large seats, some with their eyes closed, most are feigning sleep.

A train spokesman has just spoken to us over the intercom and warned us that if we are caught smoking on the train a lawman will arrest us at the next stop and we will be hanged and our baggage held. I don’t smoke and would not turn in anyone who does.

I was amazed and disappointed in seeing so much junk and debris along the train route. A lot of houses backed up to the train tracks and there was a lot of junk in yards.

It’s 7:30 a.m. Tuesday morning. Bleak describes the landscape outside the slow moving train. Scrubby pines and even scrubbier hard woods abound outside. Here and there tall trees with sprouts of mistletoe on high limbs indicate birds once perched on them. On the inside rail was the twelfth freight train I’ve seen passes our barely moving train. Graffiti adorn many oil cars on the freight train. The graffiti, some very artistic, will also appear on bridge pillars and concrete walls.

The sky remains light grey without a hint of the sun. It’s mid morning. Houses, some blue, some pale yellow, are scattered along the land that borders the tracks. Yards are motley and have an assortment of THINGS, like cars, trucks, swing sets, and an occasional trampoline in need of bouncy boys and girls. Christmas tree lights hang on the eaves of houses in bad need of paint. Our train passes a sprawling refinery that somewhat resembles what you would expect an inexperienced Lego builder would construct.

Back on the train chattering and laughing somewhat overweight ladies emerge from the dining car. Their shrill voices echo off of the plastic lined walls and the thick windows. There is a din of human voices throughout the observation car and strangers ask strangers about destinations in hopes that they can tell theirs. In the past 100 miles there has been no change in the austere landscape. Rust is the color of the ground, cars, sheds, and the rails that carry the heavy cars. The ever moaning train whistle signals the approach of a railroad crossing.

As the train picks up speed the landscape improves; houses are bigger; paint is newer; cars are cleaner; trees are fewer and taller; cattle are fatter; horses sleeker and the next stop promises of leg stretches and body movement.

ItS 11:20 p.m. and we have just pulled into Dallas. I've asked about whether we might see the place where John Kennedy was shot and the train conductor pointed out the Texas School Book Depository Building just a few blocks from the station. The train would pass right by Daley Plaza. I alerted several people and we had a great view of the scene. On November 22, 1963 I had just finished washing potatoes in the kitchen of Pemberton Hall at Eastern Illinois University at Charleston, when news of the president being shot reached us. I had an American History (Dr. Boyer) exam immediately after hearing the

His work ethic, humor, compassion, pride, respect of others and his thankfulness is, well, just Gerry Schuetzenhofer.

He is a Norman Rockwell painting.

Submitted by John Casey. 618-692-7290

Trump expects bad things to happen. His family, his politics, his physical and mental health, his footwear, and his eyes depict a empirically minded man. He is curious about spiritualism. His appeals of strange practices shaped extraordinary upheavals of his time. He doesn’t know where he is at times or where he is going. His bursts of energy and whimsical behavior astounds people. He attacks some, threatens others, and mocks some of them. Yet, some people are step-by-step followers and brazenly, both afraid and wary and say they support him. There is no middle ground withTrump. When his emotions are stirred he becomes another man. WHO IS THIS STRANGE MAN in the body, in the mind? At times he insults the audience and annoys others. He tends to get bored and hurried. He has little interests in anyone except himself. He gets highly excited, displays bursts of frantic rage and utters unutterable feelings. He displays violent rage and unrelenting hate. He gets satisfaction in revenge. His ability to thrill audiences makes him lose his sensibilities. Everyone, including his family, realizes Trump is strange. It is well known to the public that this man shows temporarily insanity and attempts to steady his mind. He teeters being rational and off his rocker. He is a creature of impulse and passion. There are times when Trump behaves normally. No one knows anything about his lonely days and sleepless nights. No attempt has been made as to what religion he chooses – Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterian, all principal denominations. Or spiritualists. He’s got a nose and ears large enough to draw comments. He is neither lazy or dynamic. He is always doing, but doing nothing great. He can’t make a dog wag his tail or a cat laugh. He owns no pets.

TODAY IS DECEMBER 18, 2020.

WITH A VOTE OF 229 TO 198 ONE YEAR AGO TODAY, December 18, 2019, DONAD J. TRUMP WAS IMPEACHED. IT WILL BEA PERMANENT DESIGNATION FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. It is appropriate to say he is the Impeached President Donald J. Trump.

Johnson was impeached in 1868.

Clinton was impeached in 1998

Nixon resigned in 1974 and avoided being impeached.

With Trump Americans have become: Sicker poorer Meaner Weaker less employed isolated

Some have become less: Respectful Trusting Proud Truthful Humble kind lawful patient

Some have become more: Angry hateful mocking impatient afraid agressive alone

TRUMP ON TRUMP

May 2020

“I FEEL IT’S GOING TO GO AWAY SOON. It’s going probably going to go away by itself. The economy will be

phenomenal. “

“I'd rather have, rather normal, you know, normal, a more normal situation, but I do and they like it some people don’t like it. I have a feeling everybody likes it because, you know, it’s more exciting than sitting there falling asleep. I can tell you that. It’s incredible. In other words, I have a much bigger

audience than anybody’s ever had”

If you believe this is a coherent message from the President of

the United States, please tell me what he is referring to.

TRUMP ON TRUMP

May 2020

“T FEEL IT’S GOING TO GO AWAY SOON. It’s going probably going to go away by itself. The economy will be

phenomenal. “

“Td rather have, rather normal, you know, normal, a more normal situation, but I do and they like it some people don’t like it. I have a feeling everybody likes it because, you know, it’s more exciting than sitting there falling asleep. I can tell you that. It’s incredible. In other words, I have a much bigger

audience than anybody’s ever had”

If you believe this is a coherent message from the President of the United States, please tell me what he is referring to.

Trump filed Law Suits – 62 Law Suits – 61 Losses. 12:40 PM. 2nd Bristol dismissed. Trump continued soliciting funds. 12/14/20 – Raised funds – solicitation of funds encouraged – 'left wing mobs' – funds used for $15 million. 11/9/2020 – Save America – Chief of Staff – 1.xx, 1/6/2 – 5 mil. False Elections funded.

Trump, I’m tired of him

Comments — election 2020

Trust the people to decide they can elect whom they please. Guard against those who would make infractions of the Constitution.

A man who makes a charge without knowing it to be true falsifies as much as he who knowingly tells a falsehood.

I’m tired of Trump

I’m tired of his voice, his smirk and never saying a kind word. I’m tired of his vicious personal attacks on anyone he chooses. I’m tired of his lies.

I’m tired of him heaping praise on himself.

I’m tired of Trump for claiming credit for everything.

I’m tired of his ugliness.

I’m tired of his vulgarity and outrageous language.

I’m tired of people praising him as a man of God.

I’m tired of people calling him a great man.

I’m tired of his violence, his psychological lying.

I’m tired of him Period. :

But I am not tired of working to

ice. I’m not too tired to say how I feel about the worst president in American History.

ipa Trump needs to be beet’

Trump, I’m tired of him

Comments — election 2020

Trust the people to decide they can elect whom they please. Guard against those who would make infractions of the Constitution.

Aman who makes a charge without knowing it to be true falsifies as much as he

who knowingly tells a falsehood.

I’m tired of Trump

I’m tired of his voice, his smirk and never saying a kind word. I’m tired of his vicious personal attacks on anyone he chooses. I’m tired of his lies.

I’m tired of him heaping praise on himself.

I’m tired of Trump for claiming credit for everything.

I’m tired of his ugliness.

I’m tired of his vulgarity and outrageous language.

I’m tired of people praising him as a man of God.

I’m tired of people calling him a great man.

I’m tired of his violence, his psychological lying.

I’m tired of him Period. moot

But I am not tired of working to ce. I’m not too tired to say how I feel about the worst president in American History.

fag

Trump needs to be dur

W409

2s Turn and face your problem

After my mother’s celebratory funeral ended I walked outside and to the barbed wire fence that was in the rear of the small Baptist Church where she had attended for more than 50 years. From the fence to the north I could see the backyard and small field of our family home where I grew up along with my seven siblings. I could see a patch of ground that was the garden where everyone in my family had spent thousands of hours. As I gazed out into the landscape, not looking at anything specifically, my 18 year old son came to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He saw me with tears in my eyes and I told him that I was thinking of my mom and the bright day that she would have loved. I told him of how she had picked strawberries on a similar day long ago in that patch of ground. I told him of a personal story of a first strawberry that was my gift every year. My mom saved it (the first ripe berry every year) just for me.

It was time for the family to go to the cemetery that was a few miles from the church. My son, with his hand still on my shoulder, said, “Dad, it’s time to go.” I nodded and turned towards him. Then, he said something surprising to me. “Dad,” he said, “now you must turn and face your problems.” He continued, “There are things you should do.” He no longer lived at home with me and my wife, but it was clear that he meant that my relationship with her was my problem and that I had to deal with it. He had noticed the strain of my marriage several times, including that day in the church.

I asked if he would go with me, only him, to the cemetery and that we would talk.

After the ceremony at the cemetery, I drove my aunt’s car back to the gathering of the family and my son drove my car. My aunt was my mom’s dearest friend and I told her of the words that my son had spoken to me. She said, simply, “Listen to your son.”

The last three stanzas of the poem I call The Dark Night recalled that day, my mom, and my son’s words to me, “You must turn and face your problems,” resonates with me today. I was able to turn and face my problems then and have resolve that I can do it again.

4/5/09

Unique! One-of-a-Kind. One times many. Combinations. These words do noT describe you:

Ugly

Mean Selfish

Tall Pretentious Dull Unimportant Closed Bashful Weak

Timid Backward thinking

The opposites of these words do describe you. Singular or plural.

A single word Flashes signals

HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

The original page will appear here.

“UP UNTIL NOW”

“Up Until Now’ is my motto. I stayed in the past, and sometimes I was in the present And finally I realized That my picker was broken

My intuition, the chemistry that Lead me to pick one woman Over another- was defective.

Up until now, my picker was broken

I picked one out of a thousand. And was off to the races, And down the wrong track. Up until now, my picker was broken

What did these women have in common? Me! I picked them. Redheads, blondes, brunettes? yes, yep, right. But all along, my picker was broken

Finally, finally, finding a woman I trusted I gave her a very intimate inventory of my life. She’s gone. And all along, My picker was broken.

So what’s the point?

The point is simply to live my life. Do what I love. Be the best I can be. And fix my broken picker.

Jre.

Update Today, Wednesday, Courtney McFarlan my doctor at St. Anthony’s Hospital in Alton, said she was pleased with my slight gain in weight – 139.8 #. My goal is 155 # I mentioned that I was disappointed that I had not gained more weight. I strive to eat more calories than I burn. I consider 2000 calories as enough to maintain and over that to be a gain. I eat often – 3-4 times a day. Fresh vegetables, fruit, grains, and pasta with very little meat are staples, also energy and vitamin drinks – Ensure-Boost – juices. Doctor Harmon recommended a stomach specialist and gave me the phone number. I’ll follow up and schedule an exam. This seems to be important in my recovery. Doctor McFarlan said all results of my tests/exams were satisfactory and that she did not need to see me again. She had stepped in for my regular doctor Michael Klein, because my first visit called for immediate help. I thanked her for her help. I asked her if she had talked to my son and she said yes. Monday I have lab tests – blood samples and a Cardiologist exam in the afternoon. I believe the Cardiologist will measure the efficiency of my heart. I also will contact the Colonoscopy dept for an exam. Yesterday, Tuesday, I visited my Counselor, Kren Harmon. She said I was better that my last two visits but recommended another visit in 2 weeks. I quizzed her on “how am I doing”? I have followed her recommendations for more social contact with people, exercise, eat, and writing, organization, a routine – written. Dr. McFarlan said depression can be in remission but when I started getting attention I was definitely in depression. I sneezed a lot the last several days. I sneeze about 15 times a day. I told both doctor and a nurse. She indicated seasonal allergy is likely -dust, leaves, grass, temp changes, etc. I am hopeful and confident that a home cleaning expert will start on 10/26. I played a practice round of golf Tuesday. It was only 9-holes. I have a rusty game. I just have to accept my game as it is if I play. I must get EGO out of it. I just finished a book by Ryan Holiday – EGO is the ENEMY. I recommend that anyone read this book. His newer book is about Silence. Also a good read. TO BE OR TO DO What is your purpose? What are you here to do?

Killing 1st, 2nd, 3rd & 4th grade children is chilling and horrific. Entering the school in broad daylight carrying weapons was easy for the boy. The crashed car in the ditch had to make a loud noise and attract attention of citizens… An AR-15 was left by the car and could be seen by any one (& probably was). – Other guns may have been left.

The timing of the NRA convention less than a week away from the school massacre puzzles me. A meeting with the mayor and politicians also puzzles me.

The JFK Assassination (1963) mirrors some of the similar strange situations.

The police / enforcement officers surrounding the building for 40 minutes stuns me.

Killing every one of the children and the only two teachers stuns me also. Everyone died. There are no stories about what happened in that school room. – The next room was also full of children and teachers – they apparently weren't harmed. They heard the shots.

[Other news] Biden returning from a meeting with Far East leaders. Biden meeting with families / etc. of the massacre of 10 students [Minn.?]. Biden – not yet scheduled to visit Texas. – Primary Elections.

The AR-15 auto rifle used by the Texas shooter would have a cost of approximately $1500 – with bullets. An 18-year-old clean-shaven boy buying the killing gun (two handguns may have been available) would need to have in excess of $1500 to purchase his weapons. He had it only a few days before the killing. – Texas??

? Where did his money come from? – Grandmother – 'Old & feeble' is a guess. He shot her in her face. She lived a few hours after he shot her.

? The vehicle – a late-model Suburban / Van (dark color). He drove it into a dry creek bed (rock walls) near the school. He carried the AR-15 and likely the handguns and ammo in a bag. He left the 2nd AR-15 at the car.

? He walked to and into the school building. (broad daylight) ? He entered the building and the kids & teachers were panicking & running, trying to herd them into rooms – teachers – ? All of the killing was in one room. He had barricaded the door (windows?). He shot rapidly and up close – 1-3 bullets per kid. He would have reloaded and continued to shoot. Two security guards or announced police broke through the door and shot the shooter dead. (19 kids – 2 [or 3?] adults). 2 surrendered. It took about 20 minutes? – 5 min. [margin: after 40 minutes; 10-shot – those reloaded; typical ammunition belt may hold much more; bullets]

No one in the other classroom were shot.

The shooter was seen entering the school with a gun – held high(?). The police / security were aware of this and were trying to find a way for kids to be evacuated and NOT [confront] the active shooter. Forty minutes went by. Shots were heard inside the school and security officers broke in and exchanged shots with the shooter. The shooter was killed. So too, were 19 children and two teachers. Everyone.

The decision to HOPE to evacuate the school for 40+ minutes in lieu of immediately breaking into the school and confronting the killer. – I am horrified that the children were so easily killed by the gunman.

The gunman told ___? he was going to shoot his grandmother. That he was going to shoot up a school.

He purchased an A.K.-15 [AR-15] 2 days after his 18th birthday. He acquired another AR-15. He returned to the gun store and bought 350 more bullets. He left one gun near where he wrecked his grandmother's van. – Did he also have 2 pistols? Texas – no background check, not required in Texas.

This shooting was in the middle of the day. Some people lived close to the school. Surely [they]? Someone would have heard the car crash, seen the AR-15 left & ??

Rabid(?) Congressmen from Texas – 'Mental illness' [is the] cause of mass shooting. Deranged minds, not guns, were the main cause. Bull crap! How can anyone ignore that active shooters with guns designed to kill people not be considered as mass murders as being the number one reason. – Mental illness may be another cause.

There was no forewarning to me. There was spontancous and raucous behavior from grownups that had never happened in my short lifetime. I couldn’t get the hang of it. There was no special picnic to go to, no special food, like there was at Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. I still had not got the hang of special food even on these days, cause I was just four years old. It looked like everyone was going silly except for us kids. We wuz just like adults and they wuz just like kids. When those bells started in the church, it stopped everything it it’s tracks. The adults quit working at what they were working at and started visiting with everyone. Whoops and hollers started the encounter and hugs and dancing came next and then they would cry mostly, but there was a smile on everyone’s face. The kid’s games stopped too. There was always a kid’s game going on somewhere, but because we were kids we didn’t know what was going on. We just stopped and sit down and asked each other “what’s going on?”

Then, my older sister, I think, told a few of us little kids that “the war had ended.” \ had heard my dad and mom talk softly about “the war.” I knew that somewhere there were “Japs” and “Krautheads” and that Americans were fighting them with machine guns and flamethrowers although I did not know what a machine gun or a flamethrower was. I had had dreams of German’s coming to our house and tying up dad and mom and | saw them from the stairs and ran back into my room and told my big brothers that Germans were downstairs. I woke up in a sweat and was glad to see my mom and dad every morning, but I never told them about my dreams. | believed that KoJo was the Jap king. I did not know what a Kaiser was.

I knew that Cub Boner had lost his right arm when a grenade (whatever that was) he was going to throw exploded. I knew that Neil Jobe, Sylvia’s son, was in the Navy. He had been home once and I got to see his very, very white uniform and funny hat with a curved brim all the way around it. I knew Barney Jobe was in the Army. I had seen men in uniform in the windows of the trains that passed through Tunnel Hill from time to time. My Uncle George, my Uncle Ben, my Uncle Mutt, my uncle Earnest were in the Army and George was in Europe. Where is Europe? Where is Germany? Where is Japan? What is war? Why were we fighting them?

I knew we didn’t have much sugar in our house. We didn’t have any tin foil either. I guess we didn’t have a lot of things, but being almost five, I probably didn’t notice the shortage of anything.

My dad listened to the radio every night when the day was done. I heard my mom pray quietly at home and wondered about that. Most of the praying was done in church, but maybe God heard home prayers too.

When my sister told us that the war had ended and that’s what made our mom and dad whoop and holler and made all the adults deliriously happy, well, we were happy too that August day in 1945. Even if there was no special food, we all yelled “hooray for America.” John Casey 11-11-02

VHS Oct. 8, 1956 – Ping pong games and a World Series Perfect Game –

5/2020 – by John Casey.

October 8, 1956

Sixty three years and five months ago in Vienna High School’s gym lobby lively ping pong games were going on during lunch break at two tables. Games were single matches and guys wanting to play placed a dime near the net and waited for their turn to play the winner of the on-going match.

Brady was a regular player and so too were Dee Ray Yandell, Ray Walters, Gifford Moore, Jim Stevens, Ronnie Rainbolt, Larry Mighell, Jerry Mount, Ron Taylor, Carl Olsen, Bob Taylor, Danny Albritten, Tom Célum, Jerry Hartline, Bill Crews, Gary (frog) Scoggins, Mike Hill, Tom Mathis, Jim Thompson, Jim Bob Grey, Gary Phillips, Richard Clayton (the only lefthander), Ralph Emery, Richard Myers, Ron Hileman, Johnny Walker, Albert Shaviss, (the onl*male black in school), Gary Hacker, Ron Goddard, James Mcneely, Weldon and Johnnie Evans, Jon Simmons, John Turner, Harry Campbell, Gary Scoggins, Jerry Hartline, ‘tom Collum, Bill Crews, Danny Albritten, , and myself, I’m John Casey. To others I may have missed, I’m sorry I missed you.

It was October 8, 1956. A World Series game was being played at Yankee Stadium in New York between the Yankees and Brooklyn Dodgers. A transistor radio was turned to the game and we were keeping up with it.

Don Larson a tall right-hander with a no-windup delivery had not given up a hit and no Dodger had reached base after the 6" inning. Mr. Kerley, Vienna’s baseball coach, was there watching ping pong games and listening to the WS game. He stopped our games and said that if anyone wanted to listen until the game in New York ended he would write us an excused pass for our classes. We jumped on his offer and sat down to listen to the game.

We were all ears and cheered the Yankee pitcher on every pitch. Don Larson pitched the first ever and only perfect no-hit game in a World Series Major League game. It stands today. The vision (photo) of the catcher, Yogi Berra, jumping into Don’s arms captures one of the most enduring moments of the game.

Everyone cheered and back slapped and danced around celebrating the game. Naturally, we all claimed we would always remember the game and where and who

we were with as long as we lived.

Learning of Don Brady’s passing was a stimulus for me to recall the game and

those who were there. I had to look up the game to jog my memory and may have

missed some classmates. I apologize to you.

The relationships and friendships of everyone at Vienna were and are cherished. No one rose above another. Don and I shared this memory when we

met at reunions later. We loved each other just the way we were.

462

On May 1 the armies clashed at Port Gibson; on May 12 at Raymond; and on May 14, the Union army captured Jackson. On May 16 the armies fought at Champion Hill. The battle started at noon with Logan’s division (Casey’s) leading the first charge. The hill changed hands 3 times before the battle ended and the Rebels withdrew towards Vicksburg. On May 17, Union troops routed the Rebel Army at the Big Black River, and on the 19t the 31st IL reached Vicksburg.

In July, 1989, I went to the Vicksburg battlefield and to the 31 st camp near Fort Hill. The Rebel held fort was nearly impregnable. A plan was made to dig a mine under it a mere 75/150 yards away. Thirty coal miners from Southern IL helped dig a tunnel at the approach to the 3rd Louisiana Redan.

The dig began on June 23 and was finished by noon on the 25t, The tunnel was 5 ft high; 4 ft wide; and 45 ft long. 2200 pounds of dynamite was placed in the mine and set to go off at 3:00 P.M

At 3:00 nothing happened, but at 3:30 sharp, a terrific blast blew away many of the Rebel troops. Casey and the 31st rushed into the hole made by the blast. The Rebels reeled but did not fold. Darkness ended the day’s battle.

Early on June 26th, Casey, just promoted to b. Major, led the gallant array of gallant men back into the crater of death. A bomb tossed by a Rebel exploded at Casey’s feet, mortally wounding him. He died on June 29, 1863.

The names of the 7 killed and 27 wounded men from the 315t are engraved on a monument at the site. When I was there a waist high ghostly fog shrouded the former battlefield; I shivered, and my eyes dampened with tears. My Journey to follow Levi’s Civil War sojourn ended.

Levi Casey, 37, left 4 young children and a wife. He has two grave sites: one at Vicksburg, the other at Mt. Olive Cemetery in Vienna, IL.

Pages 3 Words 837 Characters (no spaces) 3591 Characters (with spaces) 4478 Paragraphs 23

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| took an aptitude test and took harder classes than my Tunnel Hill class mates. Being sports minded | made varsity my first year in baseball and basketball, Vienna’s only sports. | earned five letters and pitched Vienna’s first no hitter. Don Brady pitched a no hitter the next day$ (Wednesday) and Danny Gage pitched a no hitter on Friday. It made the news and earned a small article on the front page of the Chicago Tribune. | was on the Pep Club, student office aide, in both the junior and senior class play, an escort of a queen candidate at the Senior prom (Shirley Jones), treasure of my Jr. class and VP of the Senior class. | went to college, but for only one year. | had no money. | had a girl friend too (Nicki) who was younger than me and her goal was to be in a garage band. She lived in Vienna, had two kids, got divorced, and never had a garage band. | moved on, first to Springfield Il and a job with the Secretary of State’s office.

No one in my family ever saw me play a game of baseball or basketball game in high school, American Legion Summer League, or as a Simi-pro in Springfield. | was scouted by three major league teams, and attended a try out camp. | was five foot six and weighed 142 pounds. A scout said | would not likely reach the majors because of my size, not my game. He said, only Bobby Richardson SS for the Yankees and Bobby Shanz a left-handed pitcher for the Phillies were my size. Johnny was still my name.

Through the years | have attended, SIU, EIU, RLC, LEWIS AND CLARK, U OF MICHIGAN. | did not get a degree, a short-falling of mine that | blamed that money was not available to me. I’m sorry | did not finish a degree.

After being a hourly paid union member at a MFG plant (Potter & Brumfield) in Princeton Indiana | was let go during a strike. The next day | was called by the HR office to interview for a company job. | went and was hired. One of my assignments was in the same area where | had worked. The union personnel shunned me. | played for the intramural basketball team and started, until | became a company employee, then | seldom played or was passed to when | did play.

Vienna’s first no hitter. Don Brady pitched a no hitter the next days (Wednesday) and Danny Gage pitched a no hitter on Friday. It made the news and earned a small article on the front page of the Chicago Tribune. I was on the Pep Club, student office aide, in both the junior and senior class play, an escort of a queen candidate at the Senior prom (Shirley Jones), treasure of my Jr. class and VP of the Senior class. I went to college, but for only one year. I had no money. I had a girl friend too (Nicki) who was younger than me and her goal was to be in a garage band. She lived in Vienna, had two kids, got divorced, and never had a garage band. I moved on, first to Springfield Il and a job with the Secretary of State’s office. No one in my family ever saw me play a game of baseball or basketball game in high school, American Legion Summer League, or as a Simi-pro in Springfield. I was scouted by three major league teams, and attended a try out camp. I was five foot six and weighed 142 pounds. A scout said I would not likely reach the majors because of my size, not my game. He said, only Bobby Richardson SS for the Yankees and Bobby Shanz a left-handed pitcher for the Phillies were my size. Johnny was still my name. Through the years I have attended, SIU, EIU, RLC, LEWIS AND CLARK, U OF MICHIGAN. I did not get a degree, a short-falling of mine that I blamed that money was not available to me. I’m sorry I did not finish a degree. After being a hourly paid union member at a MFG plant (Potter & Brumfield) in Princeton Indiana I was let go during a strike. The next day I was called by the HR office to interview for a company job. I went and was hired. One of my assignments was in the same area where I had worked. The union personnel shunned me. I played for the intramural basketball team and started, until I became a company employee, then I seldom played or was passed to when I did play.

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Go inside and see, hear, and feel what you saw, heard, and felt when you were in that place. Listen to the tone and volume of the sounds; feel the sensations of awe, excitement, and confidence that you felt while in that special place. That special place is going to be where you, in your imagination, can "store" all the feelings you've had when you were powerful and independent. It's also a place where you can store all of the feelings of power that you'll experience in the future. When the chips are down- you can recapture the feeling of powerful effectiveness.

Inside out is a technique that effectively reduces pain resulting from emotional stress, injury, or surgery. You may be asked to rate the severity of the pain you experience. One to ten is the most common with 10 being excruciating pain. You can imagine how it looks like and how it feels and how it sounds. When you do this you can also imagine a wind blowing from left to right across your pictures. Let the image of the pain vaporize and be blown away by the wind. As the picture of your special place of pleasure moves to the center of your vision, the pain can be "swished" away. Swish is a way to illustrate the easing of pain.

Swish

Swish Swish Swish swish It’s gone.

Metaphorically, you move the pain from inside your body to the outside. This will help you visualize the healing processes that help the body repair itself.

Life is a privilege for me and my performance is reflected in how I think about myself and the meaning of life. I do my best when I reflect on my many good times and how I saw, heard, and felt them and I'm thankful that I'm alive to make these reflections. The fact of the matter is that you, and only you, generate the pressure you feel. You put the monkey on your own back by accepting the common value of having to win. In effect you don't have to win. Wanting to win out of genuine desire, on the other hand, serves as motivation to excel. The better each of us lives, the better each of us can live.

Everything you do is for yourself. Even when you do something to please someone else, you do it because you get something in return- enjoyment from love, recognition, money, whatever – or you do what you do to avoid something such as criticism or punishment. How would you feel if you didn’t do something?

The true measure of the worth of your life and yourself is how you fee! about your own efforts. If you really believe you really applied yourself, irrespective of your outcome, that's all anyone can ask. It's natural to feel disappointment with some things or how things turn out. Emb:irrassment, however, implies a low sense of self-esteem, because you allow those who watch you to determine your self-worth.

If you try to win, if you're compelled to win, you'll generate pressure that can result in less than your best. People who put tremendous pressure on themselves to win or be perfect use phrases containing "need to,’ "must," "got to," "have to,” or "should" – "I've got to have…” "I should have…" "I need to,” or similar phrase. There's a simple way to eliminate the internal mind game that creates such pressure. It merely involves substituting the phrase; " I want to do X because…” for the words " I must or should do X." When you say "want" with conviction, followed by a reason, you take full responsibility for your wishes and actions. As a result you'll either release a source of energy and motivation to accomplish X, or you'll realize that you're incapable of doing X, or don't want to do it at all. Substitute the phrase "want" for "should" and notice the difference.

Please don't misunderstand me. Doing things superbly and paying attention to detail is very important. Perfectionism, though, is the compulsion that things must be just so; it generates a pressure to perform beyond anyone's capability. The better the person, the more corrections he makes. Perfection is replaced with the knowlecige that making errors and correcting them is what makes a good person.

There was no forewarning to me. There was spontaneous and raucous behavior from grownups that had never happened in my short lifetime. I couldn’t get the hang of it. There was no special picnic to go to, no special food, like there was at Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. I still had not got the hang of special food even on these days, cause I was just four years old. It looked like everyone was going silly except for us kids. We wuz just like adults and they wuz just like kids.

When those bells started in the church, it stopped everything it it’s tracks. The adults quit working at what they were working at and started visiting with everyone. Whoops and hollers started the encounter and hugs and dancing came next and then they would cry mostly, but there was a smile on everyone’s face. The kid’s games stopped too. There was always a kid’s game going on somewhere, but because we were kids we didn’t know what was going on. We just stopped and sit down and asked each other “what’s going on?”

Then, my older sister, I think, told a few of us little kids that “the war had ended.” (had heard my dad and mom talk softly about “the war.” I knew that somewhere there were “Japs” and “Krautheads” and that Americans were fighting them with machine guns and flamethrowers although I did not know what a machine gun or a flamethrower was. I had had dreams of German’s coming to our house and tying up dad and mom and I saw them from the stairs and ran back into my room and told my big brothers that Germans were downstairs. I woke up in a sweat and was glad to see my mom and dad every morning, but I never told them about my dreams. I believed that KoJo was the Jap king. I did not know what a Kaiser was.

I knew that Cub Boner had lost his right arm when a grenade (whatever that was) he was going to throw exploded. I knew that Neil Jobe, Sylvia’s son, was in the Navy. He had been home once and I got to see his very, very white uniform and funny hat with a curved brim all the way around it. I knew Barney Jobe was in the Army. I had seen men in uniform in the windows of the trains that passed through Tunnel Hill from time to time. My Uncle George, my Uncle Ben, my Uncle Mutt, my uncle Earnest were in the Army and George was in Europe. Where is Europe? Where is Germany? Where is Japan? What is war? Why were we fighting them?

I knew we didn’t have much sugar in our house. We didn’t have any tin foil either. I guess we didn’t have a lot of things, but being almost five, I probably didn’t notice the

shortage of anything.

My dad listened to the radio every night when the day was done. I heard my mom pray quietly at home and wondered about that. Most of the praying was done in church, but maybe God heard home prayers too.

When my sister told us that the war had ended and that’s what made our mom and dad whoop and holler and made all the adults deliriously happy, well, we were happy too that August day in 1945. Even if there was no special food, we all yelled “hooray for America.” John Casey 11-11-02

We can stay in the flow Only when we are actively attentive To the hazards ahead and the lessons of the past. Chances are we are not good at remembrances.

There is a sense of certainty that you we accomplish Something well beyond our normal capacities. A “still, small voice,” is within us. It is never

A “booming voice and Chances are you have heard it.

Just let yourself drift, Not worrying about where you are heading — By all means care, but not too much. Learn how to care and not care. Strive and don’t strive.

Golf is life condensed. Chances are that you have noticed, Golf teaches us humility, patience, precision, balance and alertness. Golf is bigger than us.

The 19" hole is a place to prolong A companionship of the 18 holes we have played. It is the end of a competitive activity that should Not end abruptly.

We should endeavor to part from one another With dignity and good feelings. Primarily this time of closure is a time of Remembrances, a time of recollection.

The End. John

Paradoxically we can stay in the flow only when we get ourselves out of the way.

We seem almost embarrassed to announce clearly that we believe something or someone is immoral, unethical, or just plain wrong. Should we “respect” ethical aberrations, “Understand” moral deviance, and resist condemning the morality reprehensive behavior or attitudes for fear of “imposing” our values on others.

Morality is intensely personal. To become moral individuals of the highest order, each person needs to create a clear, confident moral framework. Such framework will serve as a reliable moral compass. Then you will be able to approach moral dilemmas with insight and confident resolve, instead of having to start from scratch every time you encounter a perplexing moral decision.

Place me behind a wall of stone high and thick — there is a possibility that I might be able to escape: but stand me on the floor and draw a chalk line around me and have me give my word of honor never to cross it. Can I get out of that circle? No, never, I’d die first.

If values aren’t established and adhered to at the top, behavior down the ranks is seriously jeopardized and undermined — be it a family, a corporation, a society, or a nation — the values being neglected will in time disappear.

The past weekends have been hazardous to my social life and free time. Laundry, cooking, cleaning, dusting, and sorting big clothes have consumed my time. I have read 50 books and written a dozen essays that always have to be rewritten several times. I have begun to play golf again. My clubs were stolen (I made a police report) from my truck and it has taken weeks to reassemble a set. I play several notches below my former game; complain less about old people, and relish the occasional good shot. It’s sad. I went fishing once this summer and caught 4 blue gill and planned to take them home to eat. Then I found a blackberry patch with ripe berries and picked and ate several. The fish went back into the lake. My appetite was appeased. My stomach rolled. It was worth it.

A real problem with being sick is not wanting to get out among the well. I’m trying to overcome that. Laughter is welcomed. Criticism is attention and likely helpful in small doses. A week or so ago I showed up at a water hole, and upon seeing me, a so- called friend announced to a small gathering, “The Wake for this week has been cancelled.” He chuckled, the group guffawed, and I smiled weakly, held up my finger and silently hoped for a turn-about some day soon. I joined the crowd. At least they did not discuss getting their bowels checked. Some should have though, or at least cut down on spicy food.

A fried lunch is over at the office for the healthy women. I am going to open a can of tuna. I will call the doctor later and ask for an appointment. I want to know what the tests revealed. What will the medicines do? What’s wrong with me?

John 8/30/2013

849

Weird Alton Robert Wadlow, Alton’s Giant, was eight foot and eleven inches tall A statue of him and his chair is located adjacent to the SIU Dental college on College Avenue in upper Alton. It is a landmark and attracts visitors to see the display of a remarkable human being.

A twelve foot tall skeleton statue located on Bluff Street in Alton is three feet and one inch taller than the Wadlow statue. The Skeleton was part of a Halloween display and was positioned amid an assortment of plastic blow up balloons of all kind of animals, elves, and demons. The grassless yard was strung with lights, some blinking, that were on twenty four hours a day. The decorations were installed in September, 2022.

After Halloween the skeleton became The Santa Claus skeleton and the halloween balloons were replaced by balloons with a Christmas theme. The lights on bushes and fences along Mamie Street continued to shine brightly 24 hours a day. After the Christmas balloons were removed a purple shawl was placed on the skeleton. Now (2/20/22) Mardi Gras Lights blink and sparkle. Six months of 24/7 lights and decorations. It may never end.

Alton is considered one of the most haunted small towns in America. It also has a tag of ‘Weird Alton.’ Certainly, the 12-foot skeleton added to the lore of “Alton’s weirdness.

A large flying cliff dwelling creature, called the Piasa by native Americans was said to require a sacrifice of a young maiden every year with a ceremony on the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River. Native Americans painted a muriel of the Piasa on a cliff near Alton. Explorers, Marquette and Joliet traveled down the Mississippi (1640’s?) and noticed the strange painting on the bluff. They continued to the the Gulf of Mexico. They were expecting to meet the Pacific Ocean.

Elijah P. Lovejoy, age 34, was murdered by a drunken pro slavery mob on November 7, 1837. He owned a newspaper and often articles in it were anti-slavery. On the fourth attempt to shut him down he was murdered and his new press was thrown into the Mississippi. Five shots were fired at Lovejoy, all of them hit him. He died instantly. He became a martyr. Twenty five years later the Civil War broke out.

Weird Alton Robert Wadlow, Alton’s Giant, was eight foot and eleven inches tall A statue of him and his chair is located adjacent to the SIU Dental college on College Avenue in upper Alton. It is a landmark and attracts visitors to see the display of a remarkable human being. A twelve foot tall skeleton statue located on Bluff Street in Alton is three feet and one inch taller than the Wadlow statue. The Skeleton was part of a Halloween display and was positioned amid an assortment of plastic blow up balloons of all kind of animals, elves, and demons. The grassless yard was strung with lights, some blinking, that were on twenty four hours a day. The decorations were installed in September, 2022.

After Halloween the skeleton became The Santa Claus skeleton and the halloween balloons were replaced by balloons with a Christmas theme. The lights on bushes and fences along Mamie Street continued to shine brightly 24 hours a day. After the Christmas balloons were removed a purple shawl was placed on the skeleton. Now (2/20/22) Mardi Gras Lights blink and sparkle. Six months of 24/7 lights and decorations. It may never end. Alton is considered one of the most haunted small towns in America. It also has a tag of ‘ W e i r d A l t o n . ’ Certainly, the 12-foot skeleton added to the lore of “Alton’s weirdness. A large flying cliff dwelling creature, called the Piasa by native Americans was said to require a sacrifice of a young maiden every year with a ceremony on the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River. Native Americans painted a muriel of the Piasa on a cliff near Alton. Explorers, Marquette and Joliet traveled down the Mississippi (1640’s?) and noticed the strange painting on the bluff. They continued to the the Gulf of Mexico. They were expecting to meet the Pacific Ocean.

Elijah P . Lovejoy, age 34, was murdered by a drunken pro slavery mob on November 7, 1837. He owned a newspaper and often articles in it were anti-slavery. On the fourth attempt to shut him down he was murdered and his new press was thrown into the Mississippi. Five shots were fired at Lovejoy, all of them hit him. He died instantly. He became a martyr. Twenty five years later the Civil War broke out.

“Well Alrighty Then!”

On the Fourth of July I wrote her a poem. It was about the golf game that I had just played that day. It was a love poem of sorts and surely ridiculous, but she loved it, or so I thought.

Vicki could talk. She could also set up her equipment better than any woman alive, or at least any woman I had ever seen. I thought she was extremely attractive when she was in jeans and a sweatshirt. She was incredible when she was in a simple black dress and beads. She was versatile, glamorous and yet simple.

7 It was not long after my divorce that I met Vicki and I found it strange that I had never seen or recognized her before then. I had lived in this large small town for about 15 years and had been in most circles and about town quite a bit, but never had run into Vicki. She appeared out of nowhere and often just happened to run into me at my favorite water holes or places I visited.

Ours was a tempestuous affair. We seemed to click. It was an exciting time. When I was not with her I thought of her or was making plans to be with her. My eyes were glassy, my head was spinning, and I was in love..

This went on for some time. We saw what the other saw, or so it seemed. We liked the same things, or so it seemed. We wanted the same things, or so it seemed.

We went to Vegas and got lucky. We went to Buffalo and saw deer outside our window. We went there so that I could play in a ritzy member-guest golf outing at the Buffalo Country Club with a good friend, but I played badly during the day and goodly at night. Getting lost coming back from Niagara Falls was naturally caused by the rushing memories of the day.

We went to New York City and the tiny cramped room on the 22™ floor was wonderfully cozy.

I bought several watches from street vendors just outside our hotel on our way to a great New York Deli. Miss Saigon, the play, enthralled us and we marveled at the helicopter rescue at the end when it flew over our heads. I took a ride on a excursion boat around the island and saw the Statue of Liberty up close, where the Titanic would have docked, Grant’s Tomb, the bridges, and the graffiti cliffs at Colgate University. I had on a Yankee jacket and the photographer singled me out for the photo display. I bought a copy of the photo. We walked the streets and ate at nice places. Vicki bought me a glass at the souvenir shop at the top of the Empire State Building. King Kong was embezzled on the glass. I still have it.

She took me to see Frank Sinatra, my favorite singer, and whom some say I resemble. I have blue eyes and perhaps his grin. Resemblance ended there.

She didn’t think she was a great cook, but that was not true. And she could clean a house so thoroughly that if they gave awards for house cleaning; Vicki would win every time. A housekeeper said that when she went to Vicki’s house to clean, “I had to bring my own dirt.” She was super organized too and nothing was out of place — ever.

Vicki was smart too and could talk like an author about any subject. She had opinions that she expressed about life and sayings that were uniquely hers. “Well alrighty then,” she would say and it could mean J agree or disagree or leave it alone. “Whatever,” was another clique. She could add syrup and honey to her voice quickly or leave them out altogether.

Her big brown eyes would ‘POP’ with emotion and she could rivet the attention of the listener easily. Her smile was broad and magnificent and put the listener at ease. But, when she wanted to, her face could show anger too.

One of her best traits was using proper names (also proper English) and always referring to someone by their name. In the midst of a story she would stop me and say, “does she/he have a name?” The story could continue only when the person had a name. I made up a few names and have always used names in my stories since then. They’re much more believable when there is an actual name. I liked to use Tom Cullum in my stories. He was a real person, but what he did in my stories was maybe make-believe.

She was left handed and leamed to shoot a pistol. I recall her practicing with an unloaded pistol and saying, “Pow, pow, pow.” Then she would blow imaginary smoke from the barrel and say “I gotcha!”

“Well Alrighty Then!”

On the Fourth of July I wrote her a poem. It was about the golf game that I had played that day. It was a love poem of sorts and surely ridiculous, but she loved it.

Vicki could talk. She could also set up her equipment better than any woman alive, or at least any woman I had ever seen. I thought she was extremely attractive when she was in jeans and a sweatshirt. She was incredible when she was in a simple black dress and beads. She was versatile, glamorous and yet natural.

It was not long after my divorce that I met Vicki and I found it strange that I had never seen or recognized her before. I had lived in this small town for about 15 years and had been in most circles and about town quite a bit, but never had run into Vicki. She appeared out of nowhere and often just happened to run into me at places I visited.

Ours was a tempestuous affair. We seemed to click. It was an exciting time. When I was not with her I thought of her or making plans to be with her. My eyes were glassy, my head was spinning; I was in love. This went on for some time. We saw what the other saw, or so it seemed. We liked the same things, or so it seemed. We wanted the same things, or so it seemed.

We went to Vegas and got lucky. We went to Buffalo and saw deer outside our window. We went there so that I could play ina ritzy member-guest golf outing at the Buffalo Country Club with a good friend, but I played badly during the day and goodly at night. Getting lost coming back from Niagara Falls was naturally caused by the rushing memories of the day.

We went to New York City and the tiny cramped room on the 22.4 floor was wonderfully cozy. I bought several watches from street vendors just outside our hotel on our way to a great New York Deli. Miss Saigon, the play, enthralled us and we marveled at the helicopter rescue at the end when it flew over our heads. We took a ride on an excursion boat around the island and saw the Statue of Liberty up close; where the Titanic would have docked; Grant’s Tomb; the bridges, and the graffiti cliffs at Colgate University. I had on a New York Yankee jacket and the photographer singled me out for the photo display. I bought a copy of the photo. We walked the streets and ate at nice places. Vicki bought me a glass at the souvenir shop at the top of the Empire State Building. King Kong was embezzled on the glass.

She took me to see Frank Sinatra on his last ever visit to St. Louis. He was my favorite singer, and some say I resemble him. I have blue eyes, round face, short hair and perhaps his grin. Resemblance ended there, I can’t sing.

What matters is important. By now I felt I would be snugly enmeshed in a relationship of friendship and intimacy. After all, I have been discarding remaining remnants of a previous self, emerging into anew me.

Match.com has been a venue of keen interest for me. I am amazed at the numbers and intrigued (sometimes puzzled) by the profiles. 1 do answer emails, but not usually just ewinks. I seek stories — first person ones — that give me insight and I assume the truth. Postings without photos seem too guarded and I suspect perhaps the person is married and may be recognized. Glamour shots are “out-of-here” signals for me. And, I don’t know the meaning of average (height, weight, age…) anymore. I see profiles of ladies and imagine half-full glasses, cuddly gourmet chefs in jeans, blazing fireplaces or strolling along white sandy beaches near the cruise ship at a Caribbean or exotic port. We are all nature lovers, have wonderful grandchildren and terrific pets. Hello.

I’m somewhat cultured, clean, clever, and chivalrous, but I’m also rough and tumble and not fragile. I prefer domestic beer but will try a pilsner or lager. I drink red wine now and then and consider sharp cheddar cheese, red grapes, crispy crackers and a just right Merlot a meal of sorts. I could be anywhere to enjoy it, maybe up on the roof. I make good soup and my chili has won prizes. My candy dish will have dark chocolate, which doesn’t have to be defended. I have several pair of sneakers, dress shoes of black and brown and fishing and hunting boots. My extra golf bags may contain nice spare clubs and are likely to hold fishing rods and reels too. There are no ego trophies or plaques on my walls, but there are several prints of Monets. A candle is here and there, neat plants are watered often, interesting books are open, and there’s likely music playing when the game is not on. I do my laundry (dark and white), iron my stuff, and run the vacuum — one long cord. I sleep in pajamas, don’t have a night light (need one) and love thick deep covers. I could get used to sleeping in real easy. I make fresh coffee every morning.

Tread non-fiction on almost any subject and admit to being a good student of American wars. I have an inquisitive mind. I write too. I will write poetry, essays and short stories. Many have found them amusing, insightful and downright funny. My humor is dry. I’ve done stand up comedy and used to believe I was funny. A penguin walks into a bar and says to the bartender, “I was supposed to meet my brother here, have you seen him?” “What’s he look like?” the bartender answers. See why I quit?

Strangers meet me. We aren’t strangers long, but I’ll likely forget their name unless I write it down. I stand close, talk softly, but don’t read lips. I listen well. My eyes light up and dance when it gets fun. I'll let you finish before starting. Kids to ancients can break me up or make me cry.

Rather than tell you how tall | am or how much I weigh, I’Il just say, “I’m about.” See for yourself. That’s me in my photos and I’m still recognizable. | keep and wear my old clothes.

You'll be the center of my world! If you let me. Already you have earned it. It’s probably because you’re kind, smart, pretty-pretty and as much fun as Puff The Magic Dragon or a roller coaster ride. Your voice (and whisper) and laugh will be a delight and there may be hint of an accent or brogue for me to remember. I believe you will have rhythm — feet move left, head moves right — “Louie- Louie” I can see your smile in the dark too, for sure. I think I'll find you this time. John

What matters is important. By now I felt I would be snugly enmeshed in a relationship of friendship and intimacy. After all, I have been discarding remaining remnants of a previous self, emerging into anew me,

Match.com has been a venue of keen interest for me. I am amazed at the numbers and intrigued (sometimes puzzled) by the profiles. I do answer emails, but not usually just ewinks. I seek stories — first person ones — that give me insight and I assume the truth. Postings without photos seem too guarded and I suspect perhaps the person is married and may be recognized. Glamour shots are “out-of-here” signals for me. And, I don’t know the meaning of average (height, weight, age…) anymore. I see profiles of ladies and imagine half-full glasses, cuddly gourmet chefs in jeans, blazing fireplaces or strolling along white sandy beaches near the cruise ship at a Caribbean or exotic port. We are all nature lovers, have wonderful grandchildren and terrific pets. Hello.

I’m somewhat cultured, clean, clever, and chivalrous, but I’m also rough and tumble and not fragile. I prefer domestic beer but will try a pilsner or lager. [ drink red wine now and then and consider sharp cheddar cheese, red grapes, crispy crackers and a just right Merlot a meal of sorts. I could be anywhere to enjoy it, maybe up on the roof. I make good soup and my chili has won prizes. My candy dish will have dark chocolate, which doesn’t have to be defended. I have several pair of sneakers, dress shoes of black and brown and fishing and hunting boots. My extra golf bags may contain nice spare clubs and are likely to hold fishing rods and reels too. There are no ego trophies or plaques on my walls, but there are several prints of Monets. A candle is here and there, neat plants are watered often, interesting books are open, and there’s likely music playing when the game is not on. I do my laundry (dark and white), iron my stuff, and run the vacuum — one long cord. I sleep in pajamas, don’t have a night light (need one) and love thick deep covers. I could get used to sleeping in real easy. I make fresh coffee every morning.

I read non-fiction on almost any subject and admit to being a good student of American wars. I have an inquisitive mind. I write too. I will write poetry, essays and short stories. Many have found them amusing, insightful and downright funny. My humor is dry. I’ve done stand up comedy and used to believe I was funny. A penguin walks into a bar and says to the bartender, “I was supposed to meet my brother here, have you seen him?” “What’s he look like?” the bartender answers. See why I quit?

Strangers meet me. We aren’t strangers long, but I’ll likely forget their name unless I write it down. I stand close, talk softly, but don’t read lips. T listen well. My eyes light up and dance when it gets fun. Pll let you finish before starting. Kids to ancients can break me up or make me cry.

Rather than tell you how tall Tam or how much I weigh, I'll just say, “I’m about.” See for yourself. That’s me in my photos and I’m still recognizable. I keep and wear my old clothes.

You'll be the center of my world! If you let me. Already you have earned it. It’s probably because you’re kind, smart, pretty-pretty and as much fun as Puff The Magic Dragon or a roller coaster ride. Your voice (and whisper) and laugh will be a delight and there may be hint of an accent or brogue for me to remember. I believe you will have rhythm — feet move left, head moves right —“Louie- Louie” I can see your smile in the dark too, for sure. I think I'll find you this time. John

What's Love got to do with it? he advantage % had growing up was to be taught that “good guys finish first. 7

Dad and tom taught that to us ~ all eight of us. fhe lesson was never over, never. complete and never alike. twas everyday stuff for us.

Qt shaped us into believers. We have maintained that stream of thinking and @ hope we have passed it along to others. Wot limiting it to only family members either.

“flean GPeople” have had a hand in our lives, but it’s safe to say that every one of | RRS and filie Casey's clan remembers that there is good amid the evils.

Qt is possible that at any level or type of zelationship with people that you can create small ateas of good, but first you have to get tid of the mean people. Ut isn't easy, but cleansing yout life of the mean people is the only way fer good people — and theit work ethics, codes, thei teamwork, theit congeniality — to create honest, pleasant people cultures. Gfhis is true in work and in everjday

life.

Sie and wotk és too big a part of life to spend. tt with bad people and in bad places. U have been given the green light to “get out of there” whenever 1 am with a bad person ot ina bad place.

Gometimes that has not been easy considering the economics of choices. Giblings and mentots as wellas my own trials have bolstered my encoutcagement. 2 ‘ve even bailed out when % could not make good things happen ot when bad people were immovable, it was better than wallowing in a bad

situation.

Q simply don't stop looking pr kinde, gentler people and. places, because they do exist. 2 have been blessed to be a pact of fine work groups because 2 was blessed tobea pact of a fine founily. 9 have used both as foundations fer today.

What's love got to do with it? Plenty! “Pont stop looking for kinder, gentler people, ot places, Secause they do axist.

Illinois article in the Madison and St. Clair Record – The indictment of Illinois Public Education. It's in poor shape. Illinois has been losing population for some time. Once in [the] top 10 in the nation. The dismal records of Illinois schools is shocking. It appears that teachers are not teaching and students are not learning. The cost of education in Illinois ranks high and continues to accelerate. Poor student achievement and near-zero accountability can be seen across the state. Reading proficiency is extremely low. Social promotion is prioritized over literacy. Few can read at grade level, fewer can do math. They are ill prepared; their future is bleak. What's wrong with Education in Illinois? [I read the article.]

What’s wrong with me?

Since late May until the first of September I’ve struggled dealing with sudden weight loss and poor health. I was not sick every day, but some days I was very sick.

I can not describe all of the symptoms or degree of pain I had, nor the remedies and diagnosis of lay-healers My answer; “I don’t know” has not been sufficient for anyone — for me either — and that frustrates the healers and makes some act in disbelief and even anger towards me.

There have been tests (what did they reveal?) and medicines (what did they do?) and many healers have answers or remedies that I should try. I have not followed their verbal messages and self diagnosis. I have heard more sick stories of maladies of themselves, relatives, or friends. Tales about colons, esophagus, pancreas, kidneys, arteries, heart, gall bladder, stomachs, lungs, throats, breasts and endless fixes and cures, and some sudden endings are routinely told to me for whatever reason — compassion and empathy-I guess — letting me know that I am not alone in dealing with my own health issues.

The floors in my apartment are clean; I do laundry less, have fewer clothes, shoes, underwear, socks and caps. My pantry has less can goods, cooking oil, boxes of food, but more herbs. I use fewer pots and pans. I eat berries and nuts with cereal and milk. Humming birds that visit their feeders get more sugar that I do. I have new honey, and gluten free pancake mix. Costly Maple Sugar is used once a month on blue-berry pancakes.

I drink whole milk (for more calories and potential weight gain) and recently have begun drinking chocolate milk. I make shakes and smoothies; energy bars (coconut, honey, oatmeal, almonds, and dried cranberries) and need to sharpen my knives, dulled by peeling green peaches and apples. My grill is used for lean cuts of meat, strips of vegetables, mushrooms, and fruit. Grilled peach halves are terrific. I can not get into squash or avocados though. I love spinach, long leaf lettuce and Cesar salads. Four or five small meals and snacks are every day commons.

I supplement store salsa with freshly chopped onions, peppers, cilantro, and tomatoes from my garden, and eat it with low-salt tortillas. Mac and cheese has been a staple and I love it. I make more than I can eat and freeze the extra in individual bowls. I have had a few BLT’s (big calorie sandwich). I have not eaten a French fry in months. I have tried to make chicken and dumplings and am not good at it. I made one meat loaf and could not finish it, even by saving some for sandwiches. I have grilled white, pink, and red fish filets and like them. I eat solid white albacore tuna from a can (in water) with low-salt crackers. I’ll fry an egg or two (protein) for breakfast and sometimes have two pieces of lean bacon. I drink orange juice, lots of water (with lemon), a soda, or one beer with salsa and chips. There is no food in my freezer because a late sundae caused me forget to SHUT the freezer door hard and I haven’t restocked it.

What’s wrong with me?

I had just entered the hospital’s waiting room for my fifth major test in three weeks. A lady sitting on a stiff backed couch/bench opposite of me spoke to me. We had met before as we were apparently on a similar test course. “Hello, how are you?” “Can’t say,” I answered, “thats what I’m here to find out.” “Me Too,” she replied, then, embarked on a long story about her trials and tribulations of tests, diagnosis, visits to the hospital, and the mystery about her PROBLEMS. Her descriptions were vivid and when she said, “I almost died two or three times,” I covered my ears with my hands and said loudly, “Stop!” She continued.

I got up and left the two year old magazine I had been reading on the table next to my bench and walked out of the door less room to the reception’s desk. I mockingly said that the conversation in the waiting room had gone wrong and I needed relief. The receptionist, smiled and said, “I know.” “But,” she added, “You are helping relieve the tension in there.” I went back in. The lady started again. I smiled and closed my ears again. Quietness prevailed for awhile.

The lady suddenly said, “I sure am lucky!” “No, NO, NO,” I said in a loud voice,” “You are not lucky, the man next to you is not lucky and I am not lucky. The people outside who are driving their kids to the park or going shopping or going on a picnic are lucky.” The receptionist broke up. I dropped my voice, put on a smile, and said, “We are fortunate though, that a caring staff here will try to get us well, so we will feel lucky again.” The tension was cut and smiles returned to our faces.

Soon, a nurse came into the waiting room and called out the lady’s name and said it was time for her test. As the two of them were leaving the room, the lady turned to me and said, “I wish you good luck on your exam.” How kind is that? Great, I thought, and said, “Good Luck to you too.”

The gentleman in the waiting room with me commenced telling a story about his many visits to the hospital, doctors, and about his illness. I said, “Do you have a garden?” He said “yes, I do” and started a story about his garden. I listened.

My test went well and I felt my luck had turned.

430

When gou stop smoking In

& hours—excess carbon monoxide is out of your body. One week—Your taste and smell senses are inproved Five days—most of the nicotine in your body is gone Twelve weeks— Your Lung function has increased 30% One year—you will save more than $2500 Five years—your risk of a stroke has decreased

Every cigarette you don’t smoke IS DOING YOU GOOD

And making those you love Happi

Have a gloor of wine

Who am I ? I may be a full blooded INDIAN. There’s reason for me to believe that. I tanned, and didn’t freckle as did the others in a family of eight. My voice was low, guttural too. My hair was darker too. I ate with my fingers, and liked odd foods, like lizards, raccoons, and jerky. I tasted fire water when I was young. I ate wild berries, dug up root vegetables and made sassafras tea. I heard about smoking a pipe, but never was offered to smoke with the elders of my original family or the new one. I did smoke grape vines. I gathered throwing rocks, had a sling shot and a bow and arrows. I owned a knife and a small hatchet. Most of the time I was barefooted. I could sew leather, build a small fire or a big one to send signals of smoke to my kin. I could run for miles and never tire. My gait was steady and I was quiet. My dog could out run me and liked to circle me, daring me to catch him. I could not slip up on him as he might bite me. I believe I was in a tribe called CONTRARIES. THERE WERE ONLY A FEW LIKE ME. We disagreed a lot. Fought a lot, and yelled a lot. I never had a broken bone or a broken spirit. I have scars though; One on my belly, one on the back of my head (I was almost scalped). There are scars on my arms, legs, and one over my right eye. I wasn’t mistreated by my family, just ignored until there was work to be done. I did not like a rake, a hoe, or a shovel. I preferred to leave leaves alone, not disturb the dirt, or move it. I didn’t eat three meals a day. I ate hardy though. White beans often and Maze, they called corn. I didn’t use a knife at meals, I could tear meat off of the bones with my teeth. I drank Creek water rather than water from a well. My life as an Indian and being in a tribe called Contraries was enjoyable, After I was captured, and sold, I barely managed to survive as a school boy, and a little brother with cheeks of tan.

Who would | like to have dinner with? language and time and place would not be a hardship

Joan of Ark – Maid of ORLEANS

She was born in the East of France. She was a Saint of the Catholic religion. She was said to have had a vision of God to lead the French army in a battle to reclaim land that was then English held. The war was called the Hundred years war. The French, led by Joan, made several victories when she was 17. The English regained control of the land. Joan was captured, tried and convicted of heresy and witchcraft and condemned to death by burning at the stake. She was 19 when she died on 5/31/1431 in the city of Normandy.

Charles Darwin was a English geologist and explorer and author of a remarkable book on Evolution. His theory, that all living things evolved on their own. He was born on 2/12/1809 and died 4/19/1882.

Thomas Jefferson – at age 33-36. He was, | believe a difficult man to understand and may have been a narcissist. He did not want or ask for help in writing the Constitution of the United States. His “All men are created equal” philosophy surely did not include Blacks. Or women. Jefferson had slaves and did not order them to be freed when he died. He negotiated the Louisiana Purchase.

Mark Twain was, perhaps, America’s greatest writer. He wrote 71 books. His wit, humor and scalawag personality made him famous. | read 28 of them. Twain bought the publication rights to General/President U. S. Grant’s outstanding book on the Civil War. He was reported to have paid $500,000 for Grant’s book. Grant was very sick when the transaction was made. He died five days after completing the book. He died in 1885 of cancer of the throat. He was 81. Twain died in 1815.

Mary, Mother of Jesus was 14 when Jesus was born. Joseph may have been 90. Joseph died when Jesus was 12. Mary birthed more children. James, Joseph, Mathew, Judas, John, Richard. ????

Helen Keller – 6/27/1915 – 6/1/1 she wrote 14 books

Who would I like to have dinner with? language and time and place would not be a hardship Joan of Ark – Maid of ORLEANS She was born in the East of France. She was a Saint of the Catholic religion. She was said to have had a vision of God to lead the French army in a battle to reclaim land that was then English held. The war was called the Hundred years war. The French, led by Joan, made several victories when she was 17. The English regained control of the land. Joan was captured, tried and convicted of heresy and witchcraft and condemned to death by burning at the stake. She was 19 when she died on 5/31/1431 in the city of Normandy. Charles Darwin was a English geologist and explorer and author of a remarkable book on Evolution. His theory, that all living things evolved on their own. He was born on 2/12/1809 and died 4/19/1882. Thomas Jefferson – at age 33-36. He was, I believe a dif ficult man to understand and may have been a narcissist. He did not want or ask for help in writing the Constitution of the United States. His “All men are created equal” philosophy surely did not include Blacks. Or women. Jefferson had slaves and did not order them to be freed when he died. He negotiated the Louisiana Purchase. Mark Twain was, perhaps, America’s greatest writer. He wrote 71 books. His wit, humor and scalawag personality made him famous. I read 28 of them. Twain bought the publication rights to General/President U. S. Grant’s outstanding book on the Civil War. He was reported to have paid $500,000 for Grant’s book. Grant was very sick when the transaction was made. He died five days after completing the book. He died in 1885 of cancer of the throat. He was 81. Twain died in 1815. Mary, Mother of Jesus was 14 when Jesus was born. Joseph may have been 90. Joseph died when Jesus was 12. Mary birthed more children. James, Joseph, Mathew, Judas, John, Richard. ???? Helen Keller – 6/27/1915 – 6/1/1968 she wrote 14 books

Why am I doing this? My goal to declutter and organize my apartment was to gain freedom of daily attention to it – from cooking, shopping, washing, cleaning, and to try to play golf again, take trips, be spontaneous about what I do and be more social. It’s unlikely that I can actually play golf again without a limp, a shuffle, or a weak game. I know my limitations too. My heart is working hard. It isn’t very strong. I am expanding my diet, improving socializing, and writing a book. I have cut back on using the internet. My wardrobe is extremely small now. It will get smaller. The cost to develop and do a project like rock painting is not going to cost oodles of money or oodles of time. I don’t have oodles of money. I don’t know how much time I have. ‘ This project is not about me it is about THEM. I have always wanted to know people who make a difference. Please consider this idea for your caregivers. I’ll meet with you personally or discuss it with you by phone or internet. John Casey 435 1/2 Bluff St Alton, IL62002 618-670-5646 jrcasey134@gmail.com Account #

Why can’t we just get along?

The stakes were not high But the defeat was sound And the damage was done. I can’t erase a round of golf played.

Inspiration and motivation are not The cornerstones of success. They are far too liquid for that And must regenerate to remain fresh.

Without passions inspiration and motivation Cease to exist. Our passions and what we do with them Is what makes us unique.

A battle to maintain our passions Above fear and apprehension Is the central conflict within us all. Our experiences, both recent and distant, reminds us of that.

Lessons of our failures and not of our successes Knaw at our negatives And keep us from dwelling on the positive Looking for something good to happen.

Who do you think is going to win? It is a waste of time to practice consistently, And go out and believe in someone else More than you believe in yourself.

You have to believe that you can bring a new attitude And, hence a new game to the match. If you can win the battle with your mind And emotions you really can’t lose.

Doubts creep into many of my shots And I whisper to my mind, “confidence” And the end is a decisive frame of mind

As I swing at the ball.

Why can’t we just get along?

The stakes were not high But the defeat was sound And the damage was done.

I can’t erase a round of golf played.

Inspiration and motivation are not The cornerstones of success. They are far too liquid for that And must regenerate to remain fresh.

Without passions inspiration and motivation Cease to exist. Our passions and what we do with them Is what makes us unique.

A battle to maintain our passions Above fear and apprehension Is the central conflict within us all. Our experiences, both recent and distant, reminds us of that.

Lessons of our failures and not of our successes Knaw at our negatives And keep us from dwelling on the positive Looking for something good to happen.

Who do you think is going to win? It is a waste of time to practice consistently, And go out and believe in someone else More than you believe in yourself.

You have to believe that you can bring a new attitude And, hence a new game to the match. If you can win the battle with your mind And emotions you really can’t lose.

Doubts creep into many of my shots And I whisper to my mind, “confidence” And the end is a decisive frame of mind

As I swing at the ball.

Why I am like Lincoln Abraham Lincoln, two years before he became our 16** president, wrote:

The inclination to exchange thoughts with one another is probably

an original impulse of our nature. If I be in pain I wish to let you

know it, and to ask your sympathy and assistance; and my pleasurable emotions also, I wish to communicate to, and share with you.

Maybe writing about my demons wouldn’t be the end of me. Lincoln used humor to vent his moods. Anyone who struggles with anxiety or depression might find a companion in me, and a bit of hope to lighten a dark and lonely place. Depression is a pit with no exit. Wit is essential to sanity. I believe “wounded” people are so much more fun to hang out with than “flawless” folks. For the large part, we know how to laugh, and what freedom and humility there is in laughter.

To most eyes I look normal. But I’m a boundaries violator, a stage for people pleasing, a clutter magnet, a borderline obsessive compulsive, a caffeine junkie, a workaholic, a HSP (highly sensitive person), a foodie, I’m eclectic, a clotheshorse, a neatnic, and of course, I was raised as a Baptist, which might possibly explain some of the above.

I have happy childhood memories. There are plenty of stories to remind me of how I lived. I skipped over every crack on every sidewalk of my life. I never passed under a ladder. A rabbit’s foot was my most memorable birthday present. I wished on the first star. I believe a blue moon brings good luck.

I’ve written out my obsessions on pieces of paper, then crinkle them up and threw them away. I’ve obsessed about my mistakes if I believe I’ve hurt people unintentionally. I have expended every effort to be the best I could possibly be in any area of endeavor; trying harder, only to miss the mark again and again, resulting in guilt and failure to reach goals, some set by others, doubling my pain.

Being original is my mantra. I seek and welcome passion and spontaneity. Writing has been an important exercise for me. My journey is full of forward as well as backward steps. Sometimes I cringe at my phrasing. My unvarnished self comes through. This is;

for those who never stopped loving me;

for those who believed in me when I couldn’t; and

for those with brilliant brains that helped me.

Love those who love you back

Share one’s joy with those less joyful

Fall seven times, stand up eight. Japanese proverb

john C. 1/09

542

tite

Why I am like Lincoln Abraham Lincoln, two years before he became our 16¢+ president, wrote:

The inclination to exchange thoughts with one another is probably

an original impulse of our nature. If I be in pain I wish to let you

know it, and to ask your sympathy and assistance; and my pleasurable emotions also, I wish to communicate to, and share with you.

Maybe writing about my demons wouldn’t be the end of me. Lincoln used humor to vent his moods. Anyone who struggles with anxiety or depression might find a companion in me, and a bit of hope to lighten a dark and lonely place. Depression is a pit with no exit. Wit is essential to sanity. I believe “wounded” people are so much more fun to hang out with than “flawless” folks. For the large part, we know how to laugh, and what freedom and humility there is in laughter.

To most eyes I look normal. But I’m a boundaries violator, a stage for people pleasing, a clutter magnet, a borderline obsessive compulsive, a caffeine junkie, a workaholic, a HSP (highly sensitive person), a foodie, I’m eclectic, a clotheshorse, a neatnic, and of course, I’m Baptist, which might possibly explain some of the above.

I have happy childhood memories. There are plenty of stories to remind me, or anyone who would read them, that they existed. I skipped over every crack on every sidewalk of my life. I never passed under a ladder. A rabbit’s foot was my most memorable birthday present. I wished on the first star. I believe a blue moon brings good luck.

I’ve written out my obsessions on pieces of paper, then crinkle them up and threw them away. I’ve obsessed about my mistakes if I believe I’ve hurt people unintentionally. I have expended every effort to be the best I could possibly be in any area of endeavor; trying harder, only to miss the mark again and again, resulting in guilt and failure to reach goals, some set by others, doubling my pain.

Being original is my mantra. I seek and welcome passion and spontaneity. Writing has been an important exercise for me. I write from wherever I am. My journey is full of backward steps. Sometimes I cringe at my phrasing. My unvarnished self comes through. This is;

for those who never stopped loving me;

for those who believed in me when I couldn’t; and

for those with brilliant brains that helped me.

Love those who love you back

Share one’s joy with those less joyful

Fall seven times, stand up eight. Japanese proverb

john C. 1/09

542

Why is religion declining? Since the 1990’s the Republican party sought to win support by adopting conservative christian positions on same sex marriages, abortion, and other cultural issues. President Trump embraces conservative evangelical leaders that has accelerated this trend. Reports of sexual abuses, misappropriation of church funds into the pockets of church elders are part of the problems. In the recent past Large Families were common and became church goers. Churches were going up all across the nation. Religions split. Traditional Baptists branched off into say, northern and southern baptists. Presbyterians were a choice. The Church of Latter Day Saints, Methodists, (White Catholics) and other churches had their own doctrines. At the turn of the century America had become a nation to recon with. Industrialization accelerated. Inventions, tools, automobiles, rail roads, ships, tradesmen and skilled men and women were replacing the independent farmer with small tracts of land to farm and provide for their families.

Wealth had increased in all areas of America. Big, better and best was the norm and goals and measurements of everyday people, and the rich became richer. Religions broke apart as new churches were attracting like-kind of people to be members. A church was a place for different levels of income and prosperity. It became a place to socialize, get married, funerals, and form separation of people in the community. There has been a dramatic trend away from churches in all age groups, but especially so with young men and women who were better educated, and mindful that everyone was entitled to join any religion they wanted to or not join a church of their families choice. 50% of U.S adults belong to a religious congregation. In 1937 73% of U.S. adults said they belonged to a Church, Synagogue or a Mosque. Catholics are down 18 points. Democrats are down 25% since 2000. Republicans are down 18%. Conservatives are twice as religious as liberals IN AMERICA: For those who claim religion EAST – DOWN 25% `SOUTH. Down 16% Mid West Down 18% West Down 19/% For those who claim to be religious Christians down 35% Prostnts down 22% Catholic down 12% Non Christian 2% Jewish 1% MUSLUM 15

[Top: handwritten Village Inn breakfast calorie log — "Village Inn, Alton, IL, [Tues] April 28, 2015, 8:30 Am. 2 eggs, ham, hash browns & TOAST – $2.99 / ~700 Calories … Sausage, 3 eggs, 2 Sausage Links, 1 Sausage pattie, hash browns, 1/2 Biscuits & gravy – $3.99 / ~1,000 Calories." Page is watercolor- stained.]

Objective — Win without fighting — The supreme art. First — Use thinking brain, NOT the reactive brain. You will be able to make good decisions about how you will invest your attention and energy.

In the end, the most important asset in any Conflict is a Calm and undisturbed state of mind. Even More vital is your own ability to transcend your Natural impulse to respond to every beep & buzz, and to Consciously act from a Centered, clear-thinking perspective.

The goal is to handle any Crisis with Calm, focused attention. When the body goes into Full stress response with rapid breathing and mental overload, it impairs your ability to speak or act in a way that is helpful. This response is in the Reactive Brain. Chemicals are unleashed within milliseconds to mobilize our body for action. 1. Ready for Combat — ready to run 2. FREEZE — Not do anything. We do not Think Clearly.

It Can have all Sorts of Physical and mental effects including Immune system disorders and Cardiovascular disease, as well as anxiety & depression.

Techniques — to help you develop a relaxation response. 1. Distancing — move the image far away so that the individual is small. 2. Slow down — Quietness helps you Collect and form Thoughts. Lower your Tone of Voice. Breathe evenly, & resist To Stare or Squint your eyes. Do not frown.

Winchester, VA changed hands 27 times during the course of the war. 77 Confederate Generals were killed of the 425 total.

Simon Bolivar Buckner, a classmate of Grant, (also Grant’s pallbearer) and of Fort Donnelson fame, was the last Confederate General to die in 1914. His son, also with the same name and also a General, died in Www II.

There were 8 Union Generals from Galena, IL. Pop. 15,000. Grant, Rawlings, Parker (a Seneca Chief), Maltby, Chetlain…sorry, I don’t have the other three.

Lee had a pet hen that laid an egg under his cot each day. The hen was missing when Lee started his retreat from Gettysburg and he had his staff help him find her. They did. Lee played chess when he could.

He was buried with out his shoes because the casket was small. Lee’s shoe size was 4 2. On the grounds of his beloved Custis Mansion (Lee married a daughter of Mrs. George Washington), Secretary of State, Steward, created a cemetery for some of the first Union casualties of the war. The cemetery, Arlington National Cemetery, now has over 2300 graves. Lee never returned to the Mansion when he became a Confederate General.

The war started in his back yard in Manassas, Virginia and ended in his front yard in Appomattox, VA. Wilmer McLean moved from Manassas shortly after the first Battle of Bull Run to a quieter location that would be out of the way of the armies. He moved to Appomattox Courthouse, VA.

When the war ended, the South was in ruins and the North prosperous.

Etceteras, Monticello, applicable are words that elude me and make me stumble, bumble and mumble. I can’t say them clearly, but I know what they mean to me. Etc, not Excetra and is it Montichello or Monticello, and how about applicable? “More stuff just like or similar to the same stuff and on and on”; “the house that Jefferson built”; and, “ it fits.”

Now don’t get me started in finding words that I can’t pronounce let alone spell.

I read novels, but not out loud and those books about Russia or Germany may be terrific, but I'll not discuss them with literary giants because of my pea brain. The James Bond movies are OK and The Sound Of Music too; ditto for Peter Pan, but Thad trouble with Serria Madra and Quavadas, but not The Magnificant Seven.

“We Are Our First Names” is a book that lies unopened and unread. It’s thick, but I don’t want to consider Jesus in Spanish just now.

1 like little words that chirp and ping in soprano sounds. One sylible words. We have too many words and too many ways to say them. I’m out of here right now

and can’t stand the jibberish.

7-18-02 john

Writing from the heart, with conviction, trumps any perfectly grammatically correct effort that has no soul. But that is not to say you can ignore words or be sloppy or too cute. You want to communicate and your writing should be a means of getting the reader to understand what you want to say. Written communication misses the important face- to-face communication but writing, as is your voice, has a tone. If you are happy or sad, sound like it and write like it.

Writing, to me, is a form of learning. As I write and read, I am committed to it. My mind is free; it is acute, sharp, alive, inquiring, curious, and therefore capable of discovery.

General (before he was President) Grant received a high compliment that he never acknowledged: “General Grant can listen in several languages.”

144

Writing from the heart, with conviction, trumps any perfectly grammatically correct effort that has no soul. But that is not to say you can ignore words or be sloppy or too cute. You want to communicate and your writing should be a means of getting the reader to understand what you want to say. Written communication misses the important face- to-face communication but writing, as is your voice, has a tone. If you are happy or sad, sound like it and write like it.

Writing, to me, is a form of learning. As I write and read, I am committed to it. My mind is free; it is acute, sharp, alive, inquiring, curious, and therefore capable of discovery.

General (before he was President) Grant received a high compliment that he never acknowledged: “General Grant can listen in several languages.”

144

WW II LETTER FOUND IN ATTIC It was muggy hot in central India when Staff Sergeant, Joe Henkhaus of Bethalto, IL wrote his brother Kenny, and sister-in-law, Nina Henkhaus back home. The letter, dated June 6, 1945 and post marked June 8, 1945. D-Day was June 6, 1944. In June, 2013 the letter was found in the attic of a relative of Joe’s

The Army Air Force (USAAF) was a new and separate branch of the American military forces. Joe was selected to be in this important branch as air had became a new theatre of the war. The B-29, a long range, high- altitude bomber, was extremely effective in bombing raids in Germany and hastened the end of the war in Europe.

Adolph Hitler committed suicide on April 30, 1945 and Germany surrendered to the Allies in early May, 1945, and just prior to Joe’s letter. Joe was working on a secret project and wrote that he couldn’t disclose it, but would tell his brother later when he could.

Joe was stationed in central India and it was hot, hot, hot, and Joe wrote about it, describing the need to shed his shirts so they would dry, and his dread of target practice, just in case. Obviously the young Mr. Henkhaus had many excursions, missions, or engagements with the Axis forces. He had earned 64 points and needed 85 to be eligible to return to the states and likely early discharge. He would not get them.

On August 6, from an air base on Tinian Island in the Pacific Ocean a modified B-29 bomber named the Enola Gay, took off for Japan. It carried extra fuel and a 9,000 pound + atom bomb named, LITTLE GUY. The bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan on August 6, 1945. Three days later another B-29, named Burk’s Car, dropped an atom bomb named FAT MAN on Nagasaki, Japan. On August 15, 1945 Japan surrendered to the Allies on the deck of the battleship Missouri, ending WWII.

I believe Joe’s secret work/project was on the B-29 Superfortress, a long range heavy bomber. His letter just a month after Germany surrendered and two months before Japan surrendered, ending WWII.

Later in 1945, Joe came home. He was 23 years old. His days were numbered though. He had a large brain tumor on the right side of his head that was inoperative at that time. He died in 1946 and is buried in St. Joseph’s Cemetery in Alton, IL. His memory is intact with his family. He remains forever young.

His military career was important and his work helped end the war earlier than expected saving countless lives. Joe was a humble young man and an uncommon hero, like tens of thousands of heroes of WWII.

463 John Casey 8/2013

The original page will appear here.

I use stories to answer questions or to discuss subjects. I have a friend who is bright, engaging and gregarious when things go his way, but when confronted by someone or if someone openly disagrees with him he becomes a different person, combative even. I have always known this and he has not changed. I choose instead to avoid even mild disagreements, but it doesn’t improve our ME ~ his relationship.

We make choices on likeability. How can a person develop likability without seeming desperate or sappy? People equate being likable with being nice or being a pushover. I believe there is a huge difference between being likeable and being nice. Nice people don’t tell you the truth, because they want to be nice. Likeable people actually will tell you the truth because that’s what you need to hear. A person who tells you truthfully the downside of anything is much more likely to be trusted that the person who says, “Oh, yeah, everything’s great. Nothing’s wrong”. People don’t believe that.

People don’t become friends with companies or organizations. They become friends with people. It is a natural need for people to have someone — a person, they can trust. People don’t make decisions based on logic as if they were robots. They make decisions based on emotions.

There’s a lot of brain science out there that may provide insight to the complex features of likability. Finding hundreds of cures or methods may not be difficult but finding one or two that works for a person may be taxing. I’ve been at it for more than three quarters of a century. I’m not overly concerned about being considered likable by everyone. I know I’m not. I much prefer being alone than in bad company. When something doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter who is right. I don’t have a need to set things right. I may try to change the world, but not someone’s opinion.

When my friend and I had a spat, he curtly said I should examine my behavior. I said I would and said to him, “And I think you should examine yours”. He said, “Why?”

I went on a quest to examine my behavior, not just how he and I had clashed but on a personal nature. I found a few hints and excerpts in cover sheets of self-help books, but ran across a personality testing article in a now forgotten magazine. It led me to a search on the Internet. It was not an OUIGA BOAD system. I spent more than a few hours testing myself. I also gave the test to my friend, in absent, but with answers I believed he would give if he was truthful. I found some patching we both I needed to do.

I’m more understanding about personalities, much less judgmental, and generally pleased with myself. I can still be biting, harsh, and impatient, but my skin is thicker and I can shed some things when I don’t get my way.

One of my habits was using foul language too much. It was down right cussing. | would get into a story and it would be laced with language a longshoreman would envy. I also tended to “overhear” conversations and pick up bits and pieces and want to interject my opinions. | don’t try to do this anymore.

Your own best friend can be yourself. Keep Smiling. 571 JRC 11/4/2012

I use stories to answer questions or to discuss subjects. I have a friend who is bright, engaging and gregarious when things go his way, but when confronted by someone or if someone openly disagrees with him he becomes a different person, combative even. I have always known this and he has not changed. I choose instead to avoid even mild disagreements, but it doesn’t improve our ME — his relationship.

We make choices on likeability. How can a person develop likability without seeming desperate or sappy? People equate being likable with being nice or being a pushover. I believe there is a huge difference between being likeable and being nice. Nice people don’t tell you the truth, because they want to be nice. Likeable people actually will tell you the truth because that’s what you need to hear. A person who tells you truthfully the downside of anything is much more likely to be trusted that the person who says, “Oh, yeah, everything’s great. Nothing’s wrong”. People don’t believe that.

People don’t become friends with companies or organizations. They become friends with people. It is a natural need for people to have someone — a person, they can trust. People don’t make decisions based on logic as if they were robots. They make decisions based on emotions.

There’s a lot of brain science out there that may provide insight to the complex features of likability. Finding hundreds of cures or methods may not be difficult but finding one or two that works for a person may be taxing. I’ve been at it for more than three quarters of a century. I’m not overly concerned about being considered likable by everyone. I know I’m not. I much prefer being alone than in bad company. When something doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter who is right. I don’t have a need fo set things right. | may try to change the world, but not someone’s opinion.

When my friend and I had a spat, he curtly said I should examine my behavior. I said I would and said to him, “And I think you should examine yours”. He said, “Why?”

I went on a quest to examine my behavior, not just how he and I had clashed but on a personal nature. I found a few hints and excerpts in cover sheets of self-help books, and ran across a personality testing article in a now forgotten magazine. It led me to a search on the Internet. It was not an OUIGA BOAD system. I spent more than a few hours testing myself. I also gave the test to my friend, in absent, but with answers I believed he would give if he was truthful. I found some patching we both I needed to do.

I’m more understanding about personalities, much less judgmental, and generally pleased with myself. I can still be biting, harsh, and impatient, but my skin is thicker and I can shed some things when I don’t get my way.

One of my habits was using foul language too much. It was down right cussing. I would get into a story and it would be laced with language a longshoreman would envy.

I also tended to “overhear” conversations and pick up bits and pieces and want to interject my opinions. | don’t try to do this anymore.

Your own best friend can be yourself. Keep Smiling.

571 JRC 11/4/2012

You are never really cured. Face it. A person is never done. All your life you have to keep nodding, or gesturing in some way that indicates an affirmative that you are throwing yourself into the process for the 2" or umpteenth time. But it’s OK.

Read the signs. The body speaks volumes about what ails it, like losing hair on the toes, which can be an early sign of vascular disease. It’s taken me about twenty two thousand days or more to learn this important lesson. I need to chill the hell out less it heightens my stress level. I imagine my organs as good buddies taking a road trip with me every day. Every so often I’ll ask “are you guys OK,” does anyone need a rest?” If they start throwing a tantrum, I know it’s time to slow down and hit a rest station. Or I need to pay better attention to the signs in my life.

Think short term when you feel like crap. Take it from 24 hours to 24 minutes to twenty four seconds — depending on how bad you feel. Breathe deeply a hundred — no three times. No feeling is permanent.

Because of our constant state of busyness mean people get meaner and crazy people get crazier (I’m in the second group). So what do I do about the thousand-things- to-do disease? I unplug a couple or three times a year. Sometimes I emerge from my unplugged stage in a delightful mood.

Put a frog in boiling water and it will jump out to save itself. Put a frog in cool water and turn on the heat a little bit. The frog will stay in the pot because it will gradually get used to the heat and it won’t’ survive. I know this sounds made up, but it’s also true if we let things heat up before we need to move maybe we can’t. Jt sure feels warm in here…Nah; I’m probably just imagining it! It’s time to leap.

It’s hard for me to give someone a box of chocolates or some scrumptioys goody that I crave. I cling to some things when I know it is better to give that receive, Let's face it, sometimes a miracle happens. I taught my son that a gift is something yoy want but give it away anyway. And, if they don’t like it maybe they will give it back, No one ever gave me back a box of chocolates.

Zippo. Nada. Nil. No, in whatever form, is just as important as saying yes. If you are not able to utter a no then you should practice it in front of a mirror. It will save you from tagging along on some excursion or going to someone’s Am Way party. My life is crammed with more important things like picking lint off of a jacket or matching socks to go somewhere I don’t want to be. No guilt trip for me.

The most exhausting thing is life is being insincere. I don’t have five hundred friends because I could not be sincere with all of them. In short, only my friends with whom I can be completely honest will 1 ask to be in my shell.

If you must compare, pick a guy worse off than you. When I’m in a market seeing heaping shopping carts loaded with desirables I try not to wish I could steal a few items. I know I’m stressed if I feel a bit of envy when I do. At least they won’t be in the express lane.

Don’t say anything important when you are hungry, angry, lonely, or tired, which pretty much covers all of my waking hours. So I’ve revised it to keep my trap shut when I’m not feeling balanced or if my pie hole is not to be trusted.

You inspire me. I have captured a warm feeling. I smile bigger and feel the openness —and warmth. I have come a long way. Thank you.

Several years have gone by since I was six, when I was adored. What a feeling to be adored, the wonderful physical glow and warmth and open feeling of someone truly loving you. When I’ve captured this warm feeling, I smile and say, “Someone adores me, and then I smile bigger.

I knew it was always easier for me to love than be loved. Whatever kept me from feeling worthy of being love held me. I was easy for me to find someone who I felt was terrific and love her, but I didn’t feel worthy of being loved back.

I am very logical and I am very emotional at the same time. I spent hours, maybe even years, probing my exhausted — and suffering mind — but it was there, coloring everything I did. No wonder I repelled myself from getting good things from my life. As I matured mentally and got more honest with myself, I realized what a crock all that was. Pll borrow from Mohammed Ali. He said, “I’m the greatest” and, “I’m pretty” and the idea worked because he believed it and eventually he did become the greatest. The rumor of my recovery is true.

I'ma lovable person who deserves everything I want. Feeling loved makes me realize that the goodness within me is my real self. I have always tried to better myself and my life, and I’ve come a long way — and I’ve still got a ways to go. It’s so terrific to aspire to something and so awful and dull and boring not to.

T’ve tried lots and lots of things. I’m always trying something new. I succeed sometimes, and I fail a lot. Failure is an attitude, but failing is a good sign that someone is trying. I remember only my successes. Otherwise I'd be disheartened and give up. All the negative thoughts of my previous failures are quickly and consciously and deliberately forgotten. I focus on successes.

lam not afraid of my feelings because it opens me up to the basics of life. How I feel about something or someone is what it is and what they are to me. I am learning the language of emotions. It is “beyond words.” It is breathing freely and not holding my breath, to “draw a free breath,” and re-gaining the freedom and capacity for flowing, loving and feelings. Life is my aspiration — it is on-going.

ts ehge os E marred

You inspire me. I have captured a warm feeling. I smile bigger and feel the openness — and warmth. I have come a long way. Thank you.

Several years have gone by since I was six, when I was adored. What a feeling to be adored, the wonderful physical glow and warmth and open feeling of someone truly loving you. When I’ve captured this warm

feeling, I smile and say, “Someone adores me, and then I smile bigger.

I knew it was always easier for me to love than be loved. Whatever kept me from feeling worthy of being love held me. I was easy for me to find someone who I felt was terrific and love her, but I didn’t feel worthy of being loved back.

I am very logical and I am very emotional at the same time. I spent hours, maybe even years, probing my exhausted — and suffering mind — but it was there, coloring everything I did. No wonder I repelled myself from getting good things from my life. As I matured mentally and got more honest with myself, I realized what a crock all that was. Ill borrow from Mohammed Ali. He said, “I’m the greatest” and, “I’m pretty” and the idea worked because he believed it and eventually he did become the greatest. The rumor of my recovery is true.

I’m a lovable person who deserves everything I want. Feeling loved makes me realize that the goodness within me is my real self. I have always tried to better myself and my life, and I’ve come a long way — and I’ve still got a ways to go. It’s so terrific to aspire to something and so awful and dull and boring not to.

I’ve tried lots and lots of things. I’m always trying something new. I succeed sometimes, and I fail a lot. Failure is an attitude, but failing is a good sign that someone is trying. I remember only my successes. Otherwise I’d be disheartened and give up. All the negative thoughts of my previous failures are quickly and consciously and deliberately forgotten. I focus on successes.

I am not afraid of my feelings because it opens me up to the basics of life. How I feel about something or someone is what it is and what they are to me. I am learning the language of emotions. It is “beyond words.” It is breathing freely and not holding my breath, to “draw a free breath,” and re-gaining the freedom and capacity for flowing, loving and feelings. Life is my aspiration — it is on-going.

Clmgeege OS E moran}

You inspire me. I have captured a warm feeling. I smile bigger and feel the openness — and warmth. I have come a long way. Thank you.

Several years have gone by since I was six, when I was adored. What a feeling to be adored, the wonderful physical glow and warmth and open feeling of someone truly loving you. When I’ve captured this warm feeling, I smile and say, “Someone adores me, and then I smile bigger.

I knew it was always easier for me to love than be loved. Whatever kept me from feeling worthy of being love held me. I was easy for me to find someone who I felt was terrific and love her, but I didn’t feel worthy of being loved back.

I am very logical and I am very emotional at the same time. I spent hours, maybe even years, probing my exhausted — and suffering mind — but it was there, coloring everything I did. No wonder I repelled myself from getting good things from my life. As I matured mentally and got more honest with myself, I realized what a crock all that was. I’1l borrow from Mohammed Ali. He said, “I’m the greatest” and, “I’m pretty” and the idea worked because he believed it and eventually he did become the greatest. The rumor of my recovery is true.

J’m a lovable person who deserves everything I want. Feeling loved makes me realize that the goodness within me is my real self. I have always tried to better myself and my life, and I’ve come a long way — and I’ve still got a ways to go. It’s so terrific to aspire to something and so awful and dull and boring not to.

T’ve tried lots and lots of things. I’m always trying something new. I succeed sometimes, and I fail a lot. Failure is an attitude, but failing is a good sign that someone is trying. I remember only my successes. Otherwise I’d be disheartened and give up. All the negative thoughts of my previous failures are quickly and consciously and deliberately forgotten. I focus on successes.

I am not afraid of my feelings because it opens me up to the basics of life. How I feel about something or someone is what it is and what they are to me. I am learning the language of emotions. It is “beyond words.” It is breathing freely and not holding my breath, to “draw a free breath,” and re-gaining the freedom and capacity for flowing, loving and feelings. Life is my aspiration — it is on-going.

You started hundreds of life changing escapades but never applied them. Dammit, wake the fuck up! Here’s the thing; future you is not going to regret a lack of achievement or the absence of any one thing in your life.

Self talk. There’s a time for thinking and developing your mind. Ultimately you’ve got to step up to the plate and put what you know into action. Nothing that you read or try will make a single difference in your life, unless you act on it. You have to make the difference. Confidence woil’s save you, the future is not suddenly going to improve, your worries aren’t going to suddenly disappear.

Don’t just read this and go on about your life doing the same shit over and over. Apply it. “I will do it later’. “NO. Do it now.” “I?m not smart enough.” “Cut it out.” “Stop that shit and act.” You are a champion. Happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts. Therefore guard them accordingly.

Focus on the things you can control and release yourself from worrying about what you can’t. The only thing that’s guaranteed in life is that its uncertain.

You are what you do. Change your thoughts, change your life. You change your life by doing. Fuck how you feel. ACT! Simply act. Put aside your thoughts and move. Stop doing all that shit you know you shouldn’t be doing and start doing all the shit you know you should be doing. When the only thing you have left is relentlessness, use it as fuel that drives your thoughts.

Not all mountaineers make the summit. Sometimes they then turn back. Some quit and some retool and keep coming at the mountain. They love to climb. You won’t regret anything unless you take action that’s needed to change the life you want, the life you can be proud of. Successful people don’t wait. They don’t wait for inspiration to strike.

Why is it that you show more passion for your past than you do your future? People can become trapped We can create our future. Build something big. Something bigger than you have ever done. If you are truly ready to change your life, take hold of that freedom you've been missing.

You started hundreds of life changing escapades but never applied them. Dammit, wake up! Here’s the thing; future you is not going to regret a lack of achievement or the absence of any one thing in your life. Self talk. There’s a time for thinking and developing your mind. Ultimately you’ve got to step up to the plate and put what you know into action. Nothing that you read or try will make a single difference in your life, unless you act on it. You have to make the difference. Confidence won’t save you, the future is not suddenly going to improve, your worries aren’t going to suddenly disappear. Don’t just read this and go on about your life doing the same shit over and over. Apply it. “I will do it later”. “NO. Do it now.” “I’m not smart enough.” “Cut it out.” “Stop that shit and act.” You are a champion. Happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts. Therefore guard them accordingly. Focus on the things you can control and release yourself from worrying about what you can’t. The only thing that’s guaranteed in life is that its uncertain. You are what you do. Change your thoughts, change your life. You change your life by doing. ACT! Simply act. Put aside your thoughts and move. Stop doing all that shit you know you shouldn’t be doing and start doing all the shit you know you should be doing. When the only thing you have left is relentlessness, use it as fuel that drives your thoughts. Not all mountaineers make the summit. Sometimes they then turn back. Some quit and some retool and keep coming at the mountain. They love to climb. You won’t regret anything unless you take action that’s needed to change the life you want, the life you can be proud of. Successful people don’t wait. They don’t wait for inspiration to strike. Why is it that you show more passion for your past than you do your future? People can become trapped We can create our future. Build something big. Something bigger than you have ever done. If you are truly ready to change your life, take hold of that freedom you’ve been missing.

r } He can make you forget your troubles in a few moments after meeting him.

He attracts your attention, intentionally. He’s probably laughing, probably talking, probably bubbling over with happiness of being where he is

Did you notice his right hand? Me neither. Zack Deeder doesn’t have one! IfT hadn’t pointed that out to you, you would probably never know it was missing. He told me he got it mixed up with some meat he was grinding when he was young, and he added, “And Stupid!”

‘The limb healed – somewhat. The sensitivity in the stub might be gone, but Zack’s sensitivity about life is off the charts. Zack loved golf and he set about to design a prosthetic to help him play with two appendages; two hands. It came about as a vision and

trial.

First he designed a prosthetic to fit his right hand stub. It is skin colored, and is made out of hard plastic. Then he designed, shaped, and formed a sliver of plastic to the prosthetic that would fit the contour of a golf club shaft. He added a skin colored Velcro strap to makes the prosthetic fit snug to a golf club shaft… [tis a clever and functional piece of equipment that lets him play golf. Zack is a grinder (pun intended) and the adaptation was tweaked until Zack became attached to his club like no other golfer has ever been.

Zack was a lousy golfer when he had two good hands. He is a remarkable golfer now, with one hand and his prosthetic. He regularly blasts tee shots 300 yards and blasts putts into the back of holes on a regular basis as well. Zack’s quick, simple process of preparation to make a shot is seamless and natural. All anyone notices is his sterling shots and putts along with his endless rattle of words and laughter.

2) Zack teaches – teens, tots, kids, and ancients the same lesson he learned; believe in your self, set a target, and let it fly. Or something like that. It works for him and his pupils.

Zack, says, “I’m not handicapped; life owes me nothing.” I agree.

JOHN CASEY 435 1/2 BLUEE ST

ALTON, IL 62002

Zack welhe ar my WAKE |

ZACK

He can make you forget your troubles in a few moments after meeting him.

He attracts your attention, intentionally. He’s probably laughing, probably talking, probably bubbling over with happiness of being where he is.

Did you notice his right hand? Me neither. Zack Deeder doesn’t have one! If I hadn’t pointed that out to you, you would probably never know it was missing. He told me he got it mixed up with some meat he was grinding when he was young, and he added, “And Stupid!”

The limb healed – somewhat. The sensitivity in the stub might be gone, but Zack’s sensitivity about life is off the charts. Zack loved golf and he sct about to design a prosthetic to help him play with two appendages; two hands. It came about as a vision and trial.

First he designed a prosthetic to fit his right hand stub. [tis skin colored, and is made out of hard plastic. Then he designed, shaped, and formed a sliver of plastic to the prosthetic that would fit the contour of a golf club shaft. He added a skin colored Velcro strap to makes the prosthetic fit snug to a golf club shaft… _Itis a clever and functional piece of equipment that lets him play golf. Zack is a grinder (pun intended) and the adaptation was tweaked until Zack became attached to his club like no other golfer has ever been.

Zack was a lousy golfer when he had two good hands. He is a remarkable golfer now, with one hand and his prosthetic. He regularly blasts tee shots 300 yards and blasts putts into the back of holes on a regular basis as well. Zack’s quick, simple process of preparation to make a shot is scamless and natural. All anyone notices is his sterling shots and putts along with his endless rattle of words and laughter.

Zack teaches – teens, tots, kids, and ancients the sane lesson he learned; believe in your self, set a target, and let it fly. Or something like that. It works for him and his pupils.

Zack, says, “I’m not handicapped; life owes me nothing.” Lagree.

JOHN CASEY

‘2 BLUFF ST. ALTON, IL 62002

Zack Weil he ar my WAKE.

ZACK

He can make you forget your troubles in a few moments after meeting him.

He attracts your attention, intentionally. He’s probably laughing, probably talking, probably bubbling over with happiness of being where he is.

Did you notice his right hand? Me neither. Zack Deeder doesn’t have one! If I hadn’t pointed that out to you, you would probably never know it was missing. He told me he got it mixed up with some meat he was grinding when he was young, and he added, “And Stupid!”

The limb healed – somewhat. The sensitivity in the stub might be gone, but Zack’s sensitivity about life is off the charts. Zack loved golf and he set about to design a prosthetic to help him play with two appendages; two hands. It came about as a vision and tri

First he designed a prosthetic to fit his right hand stub. It is skin colored, and is made out of hard plastic. Then he designed, shaped, and formed a sliver of plastic to the prosthetic that would fit the contour of a golf club shaft. He added a skin colored Velcro strap to makes the prosthetic fit snug to a golf club shaft.. It is a clever and functional piece of equipment that lets him play golf. Zack is a grinder (pun intended) and the adaptation was tweaked until Zack became attached to his club like no other golfer has ever been.

Zack was a lousy golfer when he had two good hands. He is a remarkable golfer now, with one hand and his prosthetic. He regularly blasts tee shots 300 yards and blasts putts into the back of holes on a regular basis as well. Zack’s quick, simple process of preparation to make a shot is seamless and natural. All anyone notices is his sterling shots and putts along with his endless r: und laughter.

Zack teaches – teens, tots, kids, and ancients the same lesson he learned: believe in your self, set a target, and Jet it fly. Or something like that. It works for him and his pupils.

Zack, says, “I’m not handicapped; life owes me nothing.” I agree.

tle of words