No one ever says “fill my glass 110% We commonly hear, “I/He/She gives you 110%.

I don't want someone backing me 110%. Its looney. 100% is enough

My longest putt was 42 foot and 14 inches. I dont understand Greek Yogurt.

I heard (TV news?) that more than 30% of people experience an estrangement from family members.

I question that. Seems itS too low. Did that come from Australia?

Always remember how much others mean to you. Always remember how much you mean to others.

People with elevated IQS:

Like new experiences

Are curious

Are sensitive to emotions

Love challenges

Looks younger than their age Have a cognitive hunger Appreciate beauty

Are observant of where they are Are observant of people they meet Have a desire to think

Some people only want things done their way. They are willing to go to any lengths to get it.

Back in the stands, I showed my family with the black and standard white baseball. [crossed out: Several years later]

In 1968 I was the catcher at a first-pitch ceremony at Bush [Busch] Stadium, home of the St. Louis Cardinals. My uniform was total polyester pants and shirt and the two-toned shoes. I worked for [The] Associates, a Loan company and was a member of Athens Chamber of Commerce. The Sears manager was the pitcher. Two other members of the Chamber were in the photo. The Batter and a Lady, was the umpire.

The pitch was a fast ball and hit the dirt behind the plate. "Oh No!" — I closed my eyes, put my glove down and snagged the baseball. [Margin: "I didn't throw on a Jock & was scared the ball didn't hit my balls"] A small group by the plate yelled out, "Nice Catch" — They laughed and smiled and someone said, "Sign him up." "awe, it was Nothing," I remarked with sweat forming on my forehead.

In 1974 I attended a banking seminar held at Stan and Biggie’s Restaurant in St. Louis. After lunch and two hours of boring speeches I slipped out of the room and headed to the bar down stairs. It had just opened and I was the only patron. The bartender served me a Budweiser and I sat at the end of the bar and begin to sip it. The bar door opened and in steps Stan Musial. Musial talked to the bar tender and started to walk away. I CALLED OUT to him. “Mr . Musial, I’d like to meet you.” He turned to me and said, “Who are you’’ I said “I was the boy who asked for your autograph after a game with the Milwaukee Braves that the Cardinals won 1 to nothing. The game Sam Jones won against Warren Spahn” . Musial looked surprised and said, “I”m sorry. I remember the game now. Can I buy you a drink?” I declined his offer . He said, “When I see you again I’ll give you my autograph” .

In 1985 at the Grand Opening of the new Ramada Inn in Mt. Vernon, Illinois where I lived at the time, I met Mr . Musial again. He along with his son, Dick, were part owners of the Ramada. He saw me and came over and said, “Hello John,” it’s good to see you” . He was not in a hurry and said he had some autographed photos and asked if I wanted one. I said, “yes” . He autographed it: Stan Musial, “Thanks for being my fan” . He asked if I wanted autographs for friends and I said yes and he signed several he personalized. I asked him when did he start playing the harmonica and he said something like this. “I picked one up a long time ago and started blowing it and learned one tune: THE W ABASH CANNON BALL.” I laughed and said something like this: Well, everyone knows you are around when you start playing. He added, that the tune did not have an ending and was as simple as it could be. I would see Stan at several Cardinal games, including ceremonial first game celebrations. When He died January 19, 2013 , millions of people like me cried, yet glori fied like me, to have met him in a most personal way.

Type to enter text

2001

Challenges – some met, some failed

Skills – Gatned some, Lost some, Rept some

Knowledge – increased in some areas § status quo

Friends ~ gained many, found old ones, kept all

Strengths – +- +- +- trying to figure this out

Heights — reached new levels – high and Low

Attitude – checked daily, generally good

Remembered and forgot

Engaged new concepts, cast some away, kept some

Answers ~ searched, found, still looking

Encouragement – OK, So-So, OH NO, …

Changes – Spiritual, emotional, +,

Financial ~ a Little bit here and there-s t yr ec h e & tight. Tighter yet. Laughed, loved, ana a few dewdrops.

Health – can fog a mirror

qrew ~ Grey,

Courage – At times strong (B+)

Leaped small hurdles, found new walls § bomb fields, and also paths. Favaily – closer, farther, importance obvious

How about you?

2011 — Ending

Large bright paintings or photos are needed to change looks in my apartment. It’s time. Shopping at junk/antique shops, Good Will, etc. and yard sales may turn up unusual wall art. Packing away odds and ends and changing present displays may help too. Already there are few large furniture pieces stored or given away, but more lamps will have to go…

The few Christmas ornaments and decorations I set up have been put away. Candles are lit almost every night and that will continue until all of them are gone. Window treatments will be delayed as most of the old windows have been covered with clear plastic film to help keep out the cold air. I’d like to paint, but the landlord is reluctant to approve any changes. He’s already painted the railing on the front porch and the trim. I painted the floor of the porch and it will have to be painted again in the spring. The porch is a cool place to hang when the weather is good. It is also OK during winter for a few minutes when it is snowing. Starting in the early spring, .new bright flowers and plants will be started and humming bird feeders set out.

Making changes in my wardrobe will be a priority too. All too often I rely on kakis and a cotton shirt. Blah! But what am I to do? I want to get away from Dockers and have tended to go with grey or black pants and darker tee shirts and pullovers. I need an expiration date on my clothes, but I like faded jeans that go with old shirts. Some of my caps have worn spots too.

My hair is short and very grey. It is too short to texture. I don’t want a buzz. Scars will show. I won’t color it either — well maybe I might, just a little.

Over the years I have collected lots of golf clubs and golf stuff. Once I had more than six full sets of clubs. I’m down to three, counting an old set of Ben Hogan irons. Hopefully, P’ll cut this down to two sets and only a few putters/wedges (I have 8 good putters) and a spare golf bag. I love golf clubs. It is hard to part with an old friend.

Dishes and pots and pans have a way of lasting too long and if you keep them clean they’Il last for years. One day I broke a cup handle, but had super glue — presto — it looks brand new. But I don’t think I need too many dessert bowls, funny little tea spoons, and a bunch of wooden spoons and a drawer full of gismos and gadgets and fifteen cook books. I have three stock pots and prefer one for chili, another for vegetable soup and still another for chicken soup. I save plastic containers and find they are just right to put leftovers in so the stuff doesn’t spoil for a few days. I throw things out every Tuesday. I’ve got a new pair of herb scissors (four blades side by side) to try out when I get fresh herbs. It was a Christmas present from a neighbor. I retaliated by giving her two Christmas cordial glasses, six decorative wine rings, and a bottle of merlot, plus some fresh chocolate bark. She thought she got the best of the bargain.

Ihave one glass pie plate, and an old cookie sheet that needs to be replaced. A large roasting pan has gone unused for the past two years. The metal muffin pan, an old blender, a waffle iron, a small vegetable steamer, and a small chopping machine haven’t been used for a long time and likely won’t soon. I know there are more useless (for me) items that could be pitched or packed.

I love to tinker and have a few boxes and crates of miscellaneous things, like pounders, screw turners, pliers, wrenches, files, cutters, nails, staples, string, clips, brushes, sandpaper, and the like. Last week I found the charger for my drill. It was missing for a year. I didn’t have anything to drill when I found it. I’m thinking, /’m

2013 was almost my last one. I was stricken with an unknown illness and shrunk to skin-and-bones, so to speak. People avoided me as much as I avoided them. I did not have a plan for the day or looked forward. Pain enveloped me. I avoided the mirrors in my house. I walked slowly.

One bright day in early fall I was sitting on my porch watching life around me. Birds were singing, kids playing, people were walking dogs, and others were engaged in activities. I felt sorry for myself that I could not do the things I saw others doing. I sat still, thinking, reflecting; thinking of the day, tomorrow and, my end. Then, I had a thought that would change me forever. I am not afraid.

I am not afraid to live, because I was not afraid to die. I needed to awaken my spirit, smile and talk, hold my head high, step with a renewed gait, and do things I thought I could not do. I was frail, but my mind was not and I determined to do MORE of

everything.

2013 was almost my last one. I was stricken with an unknown illness and shrunk to skin-and-bones, so to speak. People avoided me as much as | avoided them. | did not have a plan for the day or looked forward. Pain enveloped me. I avoided the mirrors in my house. I walked slowly.

One bright day in early fall I was sitting on my porch watching life around me. Birds were singing, kids playing, people were walking dogs, and others were engaged in activities. I felt sorry for myself that I could not do the things I saw others doing. I sat still, thinking, reflecting; thinking of the day, tomorrow and, my end. Then, I had a thought that would change me forever. I am not afraid.

I am not afraid to live, because I was not afraid to die. I needed to awaken my spirit, smile and talk, hold my head high, step with a renewed gait, and do things I thought I could not do. I was frail, but my mind was not and I determined to do MORE of everything.

2013 was almost my last one. I was stricken with an unknown illness and shrunk to skin-and-bones, so to speak. People avoided me as much as I avoided them. I did not have a plan for the day or looked forward. Pain enveloped me. I avoided the mirrors in my house. I walked slowly.

One bright day in early fall I was sitting on my porch watching life around me. Birds were singing, kids playing, people were walking dogs, and others were engaged in activities. I felt sorry for myself that I could not do the things I saw others doing. I sat still, thinking, reflecting; thinking of the day, tomorrow and, my end. Then, I had a thought that would change me forever. Iam not afraid.

1 am not afraid to live, because I was not afraid to die. I needed to awaken my spirit, smile and talk, hold my head high, step with a renewed gait, and do things I thought I could not do. I was frail, but my mind was not and I determined to do MORE of everything.

need Ying/Yang help.

2013 was my Friday the 13". It started at the Masters in April. I had looked forward to finally going to the prestigious golf tournament in Augusta Georgia. It was a fabulous experience. Leading up to the tournament was a difficult process in trying to arrange the trip with buddies. I ended up going alone and hooked up with a friend in Augusta. I returned exhausted and sick, attributing the sickness to pine pollen. My health got worse and I was weak and unable to function physically. | felt desperate. went to the emergency room, but was steared to a doctor’s group and was told I would have to wait a week for an appointment. I said I might not make it that long and was OK’d to come back the next day. For the next 12 weeks | had a painful trial. I took a barrage of tests and exams. It was a time of darkness without sleep or rest. I made a will. Down, down, I went. I slipped below 130 pounds and my waist shrank to 28”-29”. I quit weighing myself and looking in mirrors. Clothes and even shoes did not fit and I doubled socks and sewed buttons on jeans/kakis for adjustments. I bought new clothes. I went minimalistic as I rid my apartment of things.

My heart was tested at 22% efficiency. In eight weeks it went up to 33%. I felt terrific at the gain. I must go above 35% to avoid an operation or a pace maker. Friends did not come by. They told me that they wanted to remember me as I was. I understand. | got better. I actually look better too. I weigh 155 lbs and my waist is now 32” and 33’s” are getting OK.

It has been an incredible journey and it’s not over. Something is missing but I can’t determine what it is. Neither can the doctors. Is it balance? Is it alignment? I want to change. I may have changed already. Soon, I'll know.

1 look different, my apartment is different and I am different. I don’t want to return to who/what I was. My image of myself is clearer that ever before and I believe I’m more transparent to others. I play games that involve sticks and balls with a big black dog, but no games with people. I am truthful and direct.

8/6/22 I’ve had opportunities to be kind all day long today.

* McDonalds – a elderly lady brought me syrup for my pancakes. I wrote a note to her: “Kindness is never over rated. Thank you.” She said thank you and showed the note to her friend. Both wished me a pleasant day.

* IT gave four clear bottles that once held bourbon whisky to a vendor who sold flowers from her garden. I used food coloring to tint them. she will use them in a contest for unique flower arrangements.

* I visited with my favorite vendor who raises goats and chickens. She makes and sells honey, eggs, and fragrance soaps.

* | bought a small watermelon from a vendor. I like their family.

* I visited with a gentleman and his wife who were raised in Ghana. I gave him a rock that may be several million years old.

* | dropped off good stuff at Good Will.

* I visited a AT&T store to help me with a tech problem. I was quoted a rate.

* IT went to Spectrum and was disappointed. I tried not to

* judge, but behaved like a jerk.

* A pharmacist helped me find the right pills.

* At Schnucks, a employee helped me measure a cushion for my porch swing.

When I came home, SHE, THE HATEFUL ONE, had parked on the street in front of my place to spite me. She said I could not park in the garage. The garage was empty and dirty.

I can only change myself not anyone else. I will avoid negative and mocking people as much as I can. My doctors and care givers recommend that I do this.

8/6/22 I’ve had opportunities to be kind all day long today. * McDonalds – a elderly lady brought me syrup for my pancakes. I wrote a note to her: “Kindness is never over rated. Thank you.” She said thank you and showed the note to her friend. Both wished me a pleasant day. * I gave four clear bottles that once held bourbon whisky to a vendor who sold flowers from her garden. I used food coloring to tint them. she will use them in a contest for unique flower arrangements. * I visited with my favorite vendor who raises goats and chickens. She makes and sells honey, eggs, and fragrance soaps. * I bought a small watermelon from a vendor. I like their family. * I visited with a gentleman and his wife who were raised in Ghana. I gave him a rock that may be several million years old. * I dropped off good stuff at Good Will. * I visited a AT&T store to help me with a tech problem. I was quoted a rate. * I went to Spectrum and was disappointed. I tried not to * judge, but behaved like a jerk. * A pharmacist helped me find the right pills. * At Schnucks, a employee helped me measure a cushion for my porch swing. When I came home, SHE, THE HATEFUL ONE, had parked on the street in front of my place to spite me. She said I could not park in the garage. The garage was empty and dirty. I can only change myself not anyone else. I will avoid negative and mocking people as much as I can. My doctors and care givers recommend that I do this.

A CALL FOR TEMPERANCE

September 11, 2001 will be remembered as a terrible day, a tragic day, for all future generations of Americans. I, as well as most Americans, am deeply saddened by this incident. That yet more people have died, been maimed, injured, or forced to suffer the loss of loved-ones by yet another group willing to take life without compunction to meet their aims–whatever those aims might be– is devastating.

It is natural for all of us to feel an overwhelming remorse for the victims and their families, and to pray that measures be taken to prevent further loss of life at the behest of a few, and at the cost of many.

It is for this reason that all Americans should look now to their loved ones, to review their values, and to exercise temperance during this time of crisis. It is of the utmost importance that the people of this Nation pause, take stock, and meditate on what part we've had to play in this most terrible of violent displays against our fellow citizens.

Now more than ever, we, the citizens of this Nation, must examine our role in the international community, and take measures to diminish violence, both at home and abroad. We must not put forth the message that American and NATO violence abroad has been justified in the past while foreign violence at home is not. The taking of human life anywhere is unpardonable, and Americans and foreigners alike should begin to take a hard look at all violence, and all actions which perpetuate the cycle of violence in our local, state, national, and international policies. We must begin the work now to promote temperance and dialogue in all of our affairs.

Make no mistake, if America goes to war, many many more Americans will be maimed and killed. And once we are in the midst of war, there is no telling how long it will last, and at what cost in human tragedy.

As the cry for blood rings out from hospitals across the nation I can only pray that Americans will heed the call and focus their wills and their lives on healing our collective wounds in a non-violent and productive manner, rather than upon perpetuating the cycle of violence by inflicting new injuries on top of old.

I write this in compassion for the victims of violence everywhere, and in solidarity with those committed to the long and difficult task of the non-violent reconciliation of differences throughout the world.

WHAT YOU CAN DO

While it is hoped that our national leaders and security personnel find the individuals responsible for this most recent act of terrorism, and bring those individuals to justice, many Americans are wondering what they can do to help during this perilous time.

¢ Donate blood or funds to the American Red Cross, the Salvation Army, and other institutions lending aid to the injured and the families of those hurt or killed in this attack on the American people.

Host a barbecue, block meeting, youth group, or town hall meeting to discuss what this event means to our local communities. Be open to varying points of view and promote dialogue to reconcile differences.

Write letters-to-the-editor and op-ed pieces for your local paper, promoting peace, temperance, non-violence, and tolerance of differences of opinion.

Print flyers like this one and distribute and post them wherever you can.

Organize peace vigils in local parks, and peace marches through your neighborhood.

Begin a phone bank or letter-writing campaign to your elected officials–local, state, and national–urging them to shy away from violent measures at home and abroad and roll-backs against our civil liberties at home, and to encourage them to work to end racism and violence in our communities.

Call local Arab-American groups and Muslim organizations to ask them what support they need during this time of heightened racial tension and social intolerance.

Promote and host screenings of films, such as All Quiet On The Western Front, and other forms of entertainment that illuminate the terror or war, and the inevitable civilian casualties that result from any armed conflict.

Work to discourage violence, aggression, verbal abuse, and discrimination wherever you encounter it in your daily life. And above all, work for

patience, thoughtfulness and peace in all of your affairs. escape_ism@hotmail.com www.stlimc.org

I got a call from the White House, from the President himself, asking me if I’d do him a personal favor. I like the President, so I said, “Sure, Mr. President, anything you like.” He said, “Just act like nothing's going on. Act normal. That would mean the world to me. Can you do that, John? “Why, sure, Mr. President, you've got it. Normal, that’s how I'm going to act. I won't let on, even if I’m tortured,” I said, immediately regretting that “tortured” bit. He thanked me several times and hung up. I was dying to tell someone that the President himself called me, but I knew I couldn’t. The sudden pressure to act normal was killing me. And what was going on anyway. I didn’t know anything was going on. I saw the President on TV yesterday. He was shaking hands with an Army Veteran. What if it wasn’t really an Army Veteran? I needed to buy some milk, but suddenly I was afraid to go out. I checked what I had on. I looked “normal” to me, but maybe I looked more like I was trying to be normal. That’s pretty suspicious. I opened the door and looked around. What was going on? There was a car parked in front of my car that I had never seen before, a car that was trying to look normal, but I wasn’t fooled. If you need milk, you have to get milk, otherwise people will think something’s going on. I got into my car and sped down the road. I could feel those little radar guns popping behind every tree and bush, but, apparently, they were under orders not to stop me. I ran into Terry in the store. “Hey, what's going on, John?” he said. He had a very nice smile. I hated to lie to him. “Nothing's going on. Just getting milk for my cat,” I said. “I didn’t know you had a cat,” he said. “I meant to say coffee. You're right, I don’t have a cat. Sometimes I refer to my coffee as my cat. It’s just a private joke. Sorry,” I said. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Nothing’s going on, Terry, I promise you. Everything is normal. The President shook hands with an Army Veteran, a real Army Veteran. Is that such a big deal?” I said. “I saw that,” he said, “and that man was definitely not an Army Veteran.” “Yeah, 1 know.” I said, feeling better.

A catalog with a page turned to expensive monuments; Treasures, medals, statues, photos, combative plates, —— STUFF. He talked about a massive polished wood coffee table he bought for $2500. He wanted Terry to pick out a treasure and coaxed him to take a bronze replica of five men raising an American flag on the tallest point on Iwo Jima in 1943. Terry later accepted the statue to take home. He wanted to show us his cabin. Both Terry and I have seen it in better shape. A nephew lives there? He was proud to point out that he feeds squirrels right next to his rear glass door to his house. Shovel loads of shelled corn was dumped on the patios and grain was scattered. Heidi had difficulty finding a lock formula and Terry took over the job. What if Heidi was by himself with a locked door he could not open? He had sugar coated soft spice drops. So do I. Heidi wanted to measure the depth of the lake at the place he believed where the treasured ring was dropped. Using a long aluminum golf ball retriever, Terry said the depth was six feet. Mud he said was about four inches. Use a long cane pole or a fishing rod, tie a line of 10 or so feet, mark it, put a weight to drop the line and measure the depth. Go all around the deck. A small skip or boat, inner tube can be used to go farther out into the lake to measure depth.

Hello and thanks for coming out tonight. The last time I was here was a humbling experience. I almost froze from the frosty reception. I slinked away. What a difference a month makes. I promise to slow down and maybe I' ll get through with a little help from my friends. There's a treat for you at the end. BACON is my subject

Hello and thanks for coming out tonight.

The last time | was here was a humbling experience. | almost froze from the frosty reception. | slinked away.

What a difference a month makes. | promise to slow down and maybe I' Il get through with a little help from my friends.

There's a treat for you at the end.

BACON is my subject

I feel a compulsion to write a few lines. The need to write down some of my thoughts help me to see things different the next day or soe It stops time long enough to let me glimpse a peek at myself. Often it softens my attitude towards everything or anyone. It sheds light on how I feel.

Work is my life. It gets inside mee Every fibre of me gets into it. I want to relax, but it won't come. Why? Because of the "getting used to it" routine takes time. It is necessary to get to know the folks, programs, procedures, and expectatiions. I try very hard.e Too hard sometimes, and it shows in pressure, frustration, and worry. The drive I have makes me strive for success, but I know that it is necessary to relax in order to do your best job. That requires learning. There is a certain amount of pure enjoyment in meeting the challenge, producing results, profit, and accomplishments. It is important that I "do good" and the severest critic is myself. I need to lighten up. I try not to let my work ethic get past me, and I want to let others know that their way just may be as good as mine. Who, amoung my friends and family, don't know this about me? Few or none is my suspect.

Family has always been number #1 with me. The reason I work is my family. It does not appear to me that when I say work is my life, that family is second. I don't need much, but I want the family to be secure, more secure. I'm not so sure that this has been expressed very well over the years. Perhaps my family would say that work has been, and continues to be more important. If so, then I have not done some things the way I should have.

Material things are too important in my life; Always have beens I hope they won't always be. I believe I am frugal in some areas and excessive in others. I would hate to lose $50.00, and if I do lose some money – like getting a speeding ticket – I think of the things the money will buy. Do you do that?

I keep personal things to myself, mostly. "Don't hang out your dirty laundry for the neighbors to see," I always says Problems are problems, and 50% of the people don't care about your problems, and about 50%.of them are glad you-have them. My problems, to mey are usually failure to follow up, pay attention, be alert, and sometimes just carelessness on my part. I really feel bad when I cause a problem. I try not to blame anyone, but sometimes I probably do. Recent problems caused me to be more open about my feelings and to share them with a few close friends. It really helped me. I wanted comfort, understanding, and a feeling that someone cared about me. I got it. It felt good, and I appreciate the kindness everyone showed mee Thanks if you were one of them, and don't feel bad if you were spared my storye

I have a very warm feeling for several people. Many of them are family, some are not. I think about them a loty When its cold, hot, dry or rainy, night or day. I try not to worry about these people, and sure, I don't dwell on them when I'm working (or golfing), but I do think of theme

I feel a compulsion to write a few lines. The need to write down some of my thoughts help me to see things different the next day or so. It stops time long enough to let me glimpse a peek at myself. Often it softens my attitude towards everything or anyone. It sheds light on how I feel.

Work is my life. It gets inside me. Every fibre of me gets into it. I want to relax, but it won't come. Why? Because of the "getting used to it" routine takes time. It is necessary to get to know the folks, programs, procedures, and expectatiions. I try very harde Too hard sometimes, and it shows in pressure, frustration, and worrye The drive I have makes me strive for success, but I know that it is necessary to relax in order to do your best job. That requires learning. There is a certain amount of pure enjoyment in meeting the challenge, producing results, profit, and accomplishments. It is important that I "do good" and the severest critic is myself. I need to lighten upe_ I try not to let my work ethic get past me, and I want to let others know that their way just may be as good as mine. Who, amoung my friends and family, don't know this about me? Few or none is my suspect.

Family has always been number #1 with me. The reason I work is my family. It does not appear to me that when I say work is my life, that family is second. I don't need much, but I want the family to be secure, more secure. I'm not so sure that this has been expressed very well over the yearse Perhaps my family would say that work has been, and continues to be more important. If so, then I have not done some things the way I should have.

Material things are too important in my life, Always have been. I hope they won't always bee I believe I am frugal in some areas and excessive in others. I would hate to lose $50.00, and if I do lose some money – like getting a speeding ticket – I think of the things the money will buy. Do you do that?

I keep personal things to myself, mostly. "Don't hang out your dirty laundry for the neighbors to see," I always say. Problems are problems, and 50% of the people don't care about your problems, and about 50% of them are glad you have them. My problems, to me, are usually failure to follow up, pay attention, be alert, and sometimes just carelessness on my parte I really feel bad when I cause a problem. I try not to blame anyone, but sometimes I probably doe Recent problems caused me to be more open about my feelings and to share them with a few close friends. It really helped me. I wanted comfort, understanding, and a feeling that someone cared about me. I got it. It felt good, and I appreciate the kindness everyone showed me. Thanks if you were one of them, and don't feel bad if you were spared my story.

I have a very warm feeling for several people. Many of them are family, some are not. I think about them a lot, When its cold, hot, dry or rainy, night or day. I try not to worry about these people, and sure, I don't dwell on them when I'm working (or golfing), but I do think of them.

a doctor and he advised her to take Danny to a specialist in St. Louis. Danny had a large brain tumor diagnosed as terminal. The team was notified. We lost big the next game and the team, parents and friends went to the hospital to see Danny and wish him well. Danny was released to go home, but would not be able to leave his house. He wrote a thank you card to everyone on the team and to me. Mine said, “You’re the best coach | ever had.”

7 ite tet op0

At the final game“the full team showed up ready to play. We went ahead and were leading 7 to 2 in the 6" inning. | called a time out and waved for all of the players to meet at the mound, Outfielders, infielders, pitcher and catcher and players on the bench gathered briefly. | asked that everyone focus on the game and not be distracted. We lost 10 to 9. | was never more proud of them than | was at the end of the game and the end of the season. When the game was over | told them they were all winners. They played hard till the last out of every game, and especially the last one. They were a proud group, loud with laughter and back slapping.

Quite a few years later | was in a elevator in the Germania K ouitsing in Alton, IL where | worked, and a tall nice looking young man spoke to me, saying, “Hello, Mr. Casey.” | looked at him and said thank you, but did not recognize him. He said, “| am the number one pitcher on Alton’s baseball team. You taught me how to pitch.”

Sincerely, John Casey

435 % Bluff St., Alton, IL 62002 – jrcasey134@gmail.com 670-5646

A large space ship like machine was in the middle of a large, tall ceiled room with a hospital table top surface for a patient to lie on. Jim stripped to his jeans and was helped onto the surface. The table moved up, tilted and moved into position next to the machine. The machine was used for a scan and radiation. When the table was in position, the nurses stepped back and the machine began to turn. I took photos and looked at the overhead screen and only saw figures and lines. Shucks. I was asked to leave and thanked the nurses for letting me see the start. Less than an hour later we were out of there and heading for where Scott lived in the northeast area of Evansville – a few scant miles from the hospital. He lives in room # 104 at the Royal Inn on Rte. 41 N. Jim left an envelope for Scott at the office and we headed back to Harrisburg. We stopped at historic Mt. Vernon, Indiana for a Subway foot-long sandwich which we ate on the way back. At 6 we had a Chinese dinner of mixed veggies and chicken over rice. Jim’s large green skillet was perfect for the stir-fry and we cleaned our plates. I stacked dishes while Jim retired to the living room couch for a smoke. We would watch Boston College upset the # 1 team in the country, Syracuse, lose for the first time this season. Syracuse was 25 and O until Wednesday night. We watched ice skating and skiing, but not carefully. I felt drugged by 10:00 and went to bed. Jim had several phone calls and recounted his visits, procedures and what’s next with everyone. He gave a report. I suppose he does this every night. During my visit I took 3-4 dozen shots with my camera. A few of Jim & Skye, but most were about Jim’s collections of his favorite subjects: Deer, fish, painting, knives, and STUFF. I’m getting prints today. I’ll share. From Tuesday to Thursday my visit was unhurried, unstructured and enjoyable. Our conversations were interrupted by periods of silence. The quietness was great too. Beef frankfurters and Kraut with fried potatoes contributed to the wellness of brothers. There were no leftovers.

A Dream – April 3, 2022 Last night I awoke about 2:30 AM. My sleep was interrupted by a dream and a one line sentence. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Wil was on my mind. So two were two other people, both ladies. One was a friend of some six years and I had not seen or heard from her in months. The other lady I had known for perhaps 15 -18 years. I last saw her during the Christmas season. Wil is my only brother. He is older than me by three plus years. I have not heard from him direct for almost a year, but did see his name mentioned in a recent email from my youngest sister. I had been quite close to all three of these people and had communicated with them o! and on. I searched for a pen and paper to record the dream and ended up with a prescription medicine sack from Walgreens. I was half awake and the space around the big redWon the sack became my focal point. WIL You are not alone When you say a word or smile When you are down or on a upward path We’re here for you For all your needs Do what makes you proud The poem (prose) fit the other two souls and I wrote a short poem similar to the one to Wil. All have been only mind, yet I am reluctant to contact them in any form. I”ll write it though and save it a few days. The prescription is for my heart and cholesterol control.

One day as I was on my front porch a threesome, two little girls and their grandmother, were walking by my apartment and I called out to them. “Hello, you sure have a spring in your step today and look great.” Their grandmother is my neighbor and replied, “Thank you.” I asked the names of the girls. One was named Willow and the other Wren. I asked, “would you like a rock with your name painted on it?” They looked at their Grandmother, who nodded OK. I said I”ll paint one for you and put it by the tree on the corner for you to pick up in a week.” They did and were delighted. That week I had requests of rocks of other children in the neighborhood and enjoyed painting them. I thought I would finish with 10 or so rocks, but the kids kept coming and I kept painting. When the number reached 50 I thought that would be it. It wasn’t. Friends brought new friends by who asked for rocks. I did not keep count after 70 and believe it exceeded 90 rocks. I used only the first name a person and never an address. Dogs and cats got into the mix and I painted a rock with their name for their leash holders. At first, I selected rocks, from the Greenery Nursery. They were Mexican river rocks and had smooth surfaces. I painted the rocks with acrylics of several colors and sometimes on all sides of the rocks. When the paint dried, I coated the rock with Polyethylene to preserve it and keep it bright. I used paint pens to write on the rocks. I became a rock hunter and visited nursery’s and everywhere for rocks and did not limit it to one size or color. On tiny rocks I painted – “keep smiling” I carried a few of these rocks in my pockets and have given away hundreds of them. After visits to the hospital, including ER’s, and overnight stays, I used small rocks to record the date and the name of the caretakers and gave them to them when I visited for appointments. Sometimes I gave them to patients who were waiting, like me, to see the caregiver/doctor/nurse. Rarely did I give anyone my name. Unless it was just John. It was not about me anyway, it was about them.

A great date would start with a smile and hello (or hi) and a sincere “it’s good to see you.”

I’m not great with small talk so we would get right into politics, religion, and financial matters.

Hello! NOT!!! By the time we’ve agreed to a date we would already be friends and

could hardly wait to see each other. Our visit would be of shared views, ideas, and stories.

We would be checking vibes quickly. Our senses would be alert. I would be tuned into your voice and would want to learn about you and I’m guessing you would want to learn about me. We would already know that we like animals, kids, stuff, .. . and what we liked to eat and drink and whether we cooked or not. We would be on time or fashionably late. Our get-ups would be smashing or simple just the way we described ourselves. My Mickey watch would ‘tell’ the time was early and I would compliment you on your outfit. I would be a bit nervous and checking my voice for modulation and I would try to stay away from hard to pronounce words (but I wouldn’t know that they were until I tested them). I won’t stare, but you will notice my eyes right away. They will be on you. I won’t remember the authors of the recent books I’ve read, but I’m sure to tell you a story quickly. You will know I have an imagination and equally wide interests. But, it’s likely that you will tell me a story first and I will listen intently with no interruptions, (which is hard for me to do with my friends). I’m going to guess that we will order a glass of wine and toast each other. Nibbles may be present. People around us will recognize that we’re having fun and are not married. Our baggage was left behind. We are in the present. Music (perhaps of sorts) will be heard. I already like your independence, kindness, intelligence, and obviously your looks. I’ll say so too. You might be a tall as me or taller, but we will be on the same level. Our pace will be just right — unhurried. The time will fly and then off we go, perhaps too soon. Thanks for a nice date.

He raised his shirt and Turned to show me a large scar That almost matched Mine

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 50 minutes I rode wild horses He rode bulls

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

John Casey 2008

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FOUR SCORE AND NINE YEARS AGO, HE WAS BROUGHT FORTH, AND NOW WE ARE FACED WITH & CELEBRATION OF HIS LIFE.

WITH MALICE TOWARDS NONE, WITH CHARITY TO ALL, WITH FIRMNESS IN THE RIGHT, &S GOD HAS GIVEN US TO SEE THE RIGHT, WE HONOR, THIS SOPHISTICATED, FRANK, AND NOBLE CHARACTER.

AND BID HIM A FOND HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

4. LINCOLN

AND THOUSANDS OF YOUR FRIENDS

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Gene Lewis DOB: 10/7/1926

Happy 89th Birthday

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

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’11l 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

A new shopping center was under construction. Hotels and restaurants with brand names started popping up. Subdivisions were being developed. New Banks and savings and loans were changing with new offices and buildings. Trucking and lumber yards were being established. A new hospital was planned and a new winery was started along the highway. A community college was established as was a new minimum security prison. The airport expanded and a new golf course was built.

Mt. Vernon’s population grew to more than 17,000 before 2000. It was expected to reach 25,000 in 10 more years and optimistically, reach 30,000 by 2025. Today, (2022) Mt. Vernon is struggling and the population is approximately 14,000, with Blacks about 14% (2,000) of the population.

Most Blacks lived in the Southeast part of Mt. Vernon on the south

side of the railroad tracks. Mt. Vernon remains almost segregated.

Germania S&L was closed by the US government a few years after | left it’s employment. It became a bank and not a savings and loan.

Cause? Failure to meet government guidelines and illegal operation. Some of the executive staff served prison terms.

Illinois is losing population at a fast – rate almost 250,000 since the last census. Southern Illinois lost 20% of it’s population. Only Williamson County has shown growth of approximately 2,000 since 2010. Carbondale is the only town that has more than 20,000 population (now, 21,857) It is home to Southern Illinois University.

This was written for me. I gave myself a pep talk and a change from being home bound and feeling miserable. I had decluttered my apartment (it is an on going process) and played 9 holes of golf a week that turned into 18 holes a week and once twice a week. I didn’t feel physically better, and hit horrendous shots. My attitude surprised me and I look forward to more golf with my friends. I do not want to play when the temp reaches 100. I did’t complain about health, bad shots or losing and the money it cost me. Recently, my friend of 20 years (e) told me his son, 39, had suffered a set back and had a bout of drugs withdrawal and mental problems. My friend went on and on. I told him about my dealing with my 81 year old self had hit a bump and I had begin writing out my problems, hoping to regain the joy of living. “I’ll share it with you and your son,” I told him and two weeks later gave it to him. He said his son was not doing anything, had no money, and just hung out. That was 10 days ago. I saw my friend yesterday and he helped me with a chore. I asked about his son and he said he was staying with his older brother, but had not done anything. My friend told me of his July 4th party and 100 guests. It was a hoot and there were lots of wobblies. My friend said he and his buddy were going to Florida for a week too ten days to play golf and goof off. He said (I’ll use Mike as his name) his niece had a new home that cost $700,000, She also (with her husband) bought a boat that cost $350, 000 and a lift for $150,000. Further, Mike and his friend would play golf at the Ponte Verde Golf course in Jacksonville as her guest. Green fees $600 – caddies are required and tips would be $100. Meanwhile (Scott, also a story name) would hang out at his dad’s home. Meanwhile, (Stephen Colbert’s favorite lead-in),Scott is on-his-own. I’ll ease back on offering help and support for Mike, and Scott. I’ve got a game of golf scheduled for next Tuesday for 18 holes. The forecast is for cooler weather. Green fees, include a cart and a hot dog is $33.00. It’s my kind of game. I’m making progress on own plan. My advice will be limited to ask myself what kind of club should use. John

The original page will appear here.

I guess I was in a period of time that was hard for me to sort out just what I wanted and where I was going. It was the early sixty’s, I was 20 or so. That’s all I can say about that.

When Nina and I parted, there were tears in our goodbye.

When I see a statue of a Greek or Roman goddess or a marble statue of a beautiful woman I think of Nina. And when I see the Olympic gymnast perform, I think of Nina and know that she is watching it too.

Somewhere there is a woman with a gravel voice silently performing on the uneven parallel bars. 02

670

John Casey

435 Ya Bluff Street

Alton, IL 62002 Ircasey134@ gmail.com 618-670-5646

Subject: A story about a dog Length: About 1200 words

Gary DeNeal, Editor/Publisher Springhouse — An Illinois Publication SF P.O. Box 8

Herod, IL 62947

Dear Mr. DeNeal,

Being the fifth of eight children in a tough love family and growing up in Tunnel Hill, Illinois in the middle of the 20“ century I hardly owned anything until one day my dad brought home a Border collie pup and I claimed him. The story of Jiggs is a glimpse of my relationship with my dog.

Tunnel Hill was my home town (population 39 in 1949) and Mrs. Beulah Simmons was the only grade school teacher I ever had. The one-room school house, now a residence, was about a mile from our family home. Six classmates and I graduated in 1954 and five of us went on to high school in Vienna. Like my older siblings, I left home when I started college in 1958. When I was 24 and living in Michigan I wrote Mrs. Beulah a letter of appreciation and titled it “My Education Makes Me Sweat.” She submitted the letter to the Vienna Times and it was published.

My best friend for 46 years, Larry Underwood, (1938 – 2008), a Shawneetown native, was a regular contributor to your magazine. Some of his work was his suburb book, The Butternut Guerillas. It was about an 1863 Union Civil War raid into the heart of the Confederacy by the 6" Illinois Calvary led by Colonel Benjamin Grierson of Jacksonville, IL. Larry and I become friends in 1962 when we met in Springfield, IL. He shared his love of history with me and I became a pretty good buff historian. Larry encouraged me to write and specifically mentioned you and your magazine as a place to submit my stories. A poem I wrote titled Mushrooms was published by Springhouse many years ago

Thanks kindly for reviewing my story.

John Casey

A PIECE OF GLASS

Mom's pretty coffee cup slipped from my soapy fingers, grazed the pull handle to the silverware drawer and shattered when it hit the linoleum floor. Slivers of white glass with bits of rose colored tints were scattered about and only the slender handle of the cup was recognizable.

“Mom,” by sister, Edie yelled, “you better come in here, Johnny’s busted your best cup.” Dishwashing stopped. I was the washer, Edie was the dryer and we waited for mom to come into the kitchen. Minutes before my sis and I were laughing and teasing as we did the dishes.

I stood on a small wooden box; leaned over the kitchen counter and my hands moved left to right putting dishes and silverware into and out of the large aluminum dishpan. A washed piece would be slid into the rinse pan or handed to Edie who would complete the rinse and dry the piece before replacing it in the cabinet. Hot soapy water and extra hot rinse water got the dishes sparkling clean and ready for the next serving. Mom usually did the morning dishes and us kids (I’m from a family of 8) either went our ways to school or chores or whatever.

We kids did the evening dishes usually in teams of two. I, being the oh child, often got the job. Edie, my older sister or Liz, my younger sister was the likely team. The big kids had other assignments (I guess) like bringing in the coal, chopping firewood, slopping hogs, feeding chickens and drawing fresh water from the well.

Back to the dropped cup. I wanted to blame Edie for not taking the cup sooner but that wasn’t the case. The clean slippery cup was passed by my even slipperier hands towards the rinse pan in a hurried motion. The fall did not break the cup, but the landing sure did. Smash!

When mom reached the kitchen I was looking over my shoulder at her. My eyes were burning and I suspect that tears were forming. The stillness was finally broken when Edie pointed at the broken glass and said, “Look what he id!” “I didn’t mean to,” I blurted, “I’m sorry.” Mom bent down, picked up the andle of the cup and said, “you two will have to help me clean it up, we'll need he broom.” Into action we obeyed and the broken glass was swept up and lumped into the trash.

When this job was done mom said, “Edie, you finish washing the dishes nd Johnny you dry them.” She also said, “don’t worry about the cup it was only a piece of glass, I'm glad one of you didn’t get cut.” It was my mom’s favorite cup and now it was only a piece of glass. She knew it was a mistake and she didn’t want to break our spirit and understood the lesson it taught us.

Over the years I have probably broken a few dishes, but I have never failed to remember my mom when my soapy hands are on a cup – I mean – 2 piece of glass.

Qadcsa

John Casey 3/6/03

Notice of purchase of an AR-15 automatic rifle [a proposed registration-notice form he is drafting]

Your son (grandson, nephew, husband, cousin / or daughter) just purchased an AR-15 automatic rifle and 375 bullets from us. Our address is ___ [town, state, city] at ___ am/pm, mo. day ___. [Father & mother / Next of kin / Guardian] He provided identification that included a photo and finger prints, and a valid driver's license for the ___ [state]. License number ___.

We have provided an exact copy of this registration notice to the police department at ___.

In addition to the rifle and bullets, ___ purchased from us a ___ * ___ * ___ and ___ * ___ * ___.

NOW: An 18 year old can buy a gun without a background check – no training or knowledge of a gun.

Printed by the company who sold the gun / ammunition. A merchant or store may record any firearm purchase.

The company, on its own, may require identification of a purchase without liability. ? Liability insurance on the owner of the gun / seller.

A REDNECK & COWBOYS

A redneck from Southern Illinois was fishing in a farm pond when he heard dogs barking nearby. The redneck’s large dog had a contrary disposition in presence of other dogs and had perked up at the barking. The redneck quit fishing to return to his pickup truck parked in the narrow gravel road.

When he arrived at the truck he saw five horses and riders; three men and two women, plus three large dogs coursing in the surrounding fields.

It was time to move on the redneck thought and called his dog and both got in the truck. The RedNeck started his truck and slowly drove it towards the riders, but they did not yield the right-of-way. In fact, two of the riders came back to the redneck’s truck and peered into the window giving a familiar middle finger salute along with a few verbal “f… yous.”

“This ain’t happening,” the redneck thought, and gave back a verbal blast along the lines of questioning the canine heritage of the riders and their tendencies to (%@#*&!). This may have made the riders mad!

One cowboy stayed in front and two cowgirls and the other two riders steered their mounts to the rear of the truck, further blocking his way on the narrow gravel road.

Words, now unprintable, tumbled about inside and outside the truck’s cabin. Jaws tightened, eyes got beady, hair on the back of necks – hackled – and tongues got dry while brains muddled on what to do next.

The redneck knew his truck had lots of horse power; 200 or more. The truck had a big bumper, a strong hood, and shatter proof glass. Cowboys and cowgirls on horses are hardly a match for the horses the redneck had. The hackle on the redneck’s neck rose and his right foot engaged the 200 horses making the rear wheels spin in the loose gravel, throwing them and dust at the horses and riders, stinging them, making them turn away. The riders in front steered their mounts to the side of the road and the redneck slowly drove on, now unencumbered.

A schedule may look like this: Or after school. Or only on weekends ______ day: 10 AM – 12:00 Prepare rocks to paint and apply first coat of paint ______day: 10 AM – 12:00 Paint the words – using a paint pen _____day: 10 AM – 12:00 Cover the rocks with Polyethylene – this will protect the message _____ day: Anytime Distribute rocks to Hospital’s – first choice A rock for every employee/ staff. I would supply the first batch of rocks – say, 250. I would wash, clean and dry them & sort them in batches of equal size and base color. I would supply enamel paint and brushes (I use sponge tips or a piece of a regular sponge to apply paint.} I would supply paint pens – At least five colors. I can create a painting area for up to five people at a time. I haven’t given a lot of thought of how to find, and use frocks, clothes, etc. Plastic gloves Shoe covers tee shirt or frock A bottle of water A mask – N95

A second visit can be scheduled. You are now familiar with the process and can make notes and review them as a guide for each area you are considering. It is not down time exactly.

There is nothing wrong to declutter one room completely before going to another room. I did this. Drapes came first. I had two windows to consider. I wanted them to compliment the colors used in the room and lighting. I did clear off things on flat surfaces, like the book case, coffee table, and end tables. I put some of the knick-knacks in trunks that I would use later – or not.

Closets and the pantry were decluttered later. The pantry needed a lot of attention and updating. Decluttering a closet at a time was done without a schedule. For sure, I needed to organize the closet. I donated oodles of clothes to a not-for-profit thrift shop.

My place is comfortable and looks better. I believe it is also easier to clean. However, I believe it is not finished. Hopefully, it will not get cluttered again. But, who knows..2/15/22

A second visit can be scheduled. You are now familiar with the process and can make notes and review them as a guide for each area you are considering. It is not down time exactly. There is nothing wrong to declutter one room completely before going to another room. I did this. Drapes came first. I had two windows to consider. I wanted them to compliment the colors used in the room and lighting. I did clear off things on flat surfaces, like the book case, coffee table, and end tables. I put some of the knick-knacks in trunks that I would use later – or not. Closets and the pantry were decluttered later. The pantry needed a lot of attention and updating. Decluttering a closet at a time was done without a schedule. For sure, I needed to organize the closet. I donated oodles of clothes to a not-for-profit thrift shop. My place is comfortable and looks better. I believe it is also easier to clean. However, I believe it is not finished. Hopefully, it will not get cluttered again. But, who knows..2/15/22

The quietness awakens me more when I am on my own small swath of earth. I seek grounding and a way of anchoring. I become aware of the cycles of seasons, and tides, and years, and the privilege of being alive and part of something larger than myself.

It is simply silence. It nourishes me. It teaches me.

A SILENT PLACE

Several years ago I drove to a private and quiet place. It was a small wooded area bordered by grass covered rolling hills with a few large trees. A tiny trickle creek ran down the middle of the woods. It was a great place to hunt for morel mushrooms.

It was a place to be quiet.

When I was ten years old my father took me and two of my sisters there to hunt mushrooms. He told us that when we found one ‘room to stand still and look around carefully for others. It was a good chance to find more nearby. We found more than 100 morels that day.

The idea of a quiet place appeals to me. I had them as‘a youngster and shared them only with my dog, Jiggs. He seemed to understand I wanted to be quiet and would sit quietly beside me. Occasionally, he would be aroused by a soft sound in the woods: a chipmunk, a shrew, bird, and sometimes a box turtle that also loved mushrooms. ’

When I went there for silence I focused on self awareness and usually an important decision I had to make. I found pleasure of how silence let me know a world beneath noise.

The distance to the woods is now far away. Now I look for quiet places near me. I ask permission. of the owner to walk the land and to be silent. Often I am successful.

There’s nothing in my pockets; I don’t take a camera or walk the paths of animals. I observe features of the land: rocks, water, trees, flowers, wind, and sky. I'll sit down often. I don’t break limbs and I may take a drink from a clear running creek.

[yellow legal pad] Post on Internet – 'We bet you haven't visited more than 5 of these places with your own eyes.' The List [places visited, with the companion noted beside each]: Statue of Liberty – Vicki; Walt Disney World, Orlando – Bud; Las Vegas Strip – Bud; Times Square – Vicki; Pikes Peak – Ray; Chicago River – Dr.; Washington Monument – Shan; French Quarter – [Jerry & Pam]; River Walk TX – Wil; Niagara Falls – Vicki; Gateway Arch – Shan; Empire State Building – Vicki; Fort Sumter – Shan; The Alamo – Wil; The White House – Seg; Central Park – Vicki; Arlington Cemetery – Seg; St. Augustine (18) – Seg; Everglades (19) – Seg. Did not see / a visit: Grand Canyon; Zion; Space Needle; Yellowstone (saw the flying alps?); Mt. Rushmore; Golden Gate Bridge; Mall of America – Minnesota; Pearl to Hawaii; Wright Bros Memorial; Yosemite; Liberty Bell (almost); South Beach; Lake Tahoe; Disney Epcot. (13) [margin: 'I missed going to this one – Yellowstone'; 'Buffalo']

A wit’s tongue is as sharp as a donkey’s stick. | am sure a wit would shirk if he was deprived of an audience. A humorous man is better company because he confronts both him and you.

Humor is primarily takes no effort because it is natural, not forced. A witty man may draw laughs and delights in his own perceived witticisms when his wit is directed on another man’s hat or shoes, or age, and maybe his hair or speech. He wants the audience to agree.

Real humor requires no primary effort to be funny. A witty player might draw laughs but does not catch the heart as does the humorous man. Wit fades; humor lasts.

A wit’s tongue is as sharp as a donkey’s stick. I am sure a wit would shirk if he was deprived of an audience. A humorous man is better company because he confronts both him and you. Humor is primarily takes no effort because it is natural, not forced. A witty man may draw laughs and delights in his own perceived witticisms when his wit is directed on another man’s hat or shoes, or age, and maybe his hair or speech. He wants the audience to agree. Real humor requires no primary effort to be funny. A witty player might draw laughs but does not catch the heart as does the humorous man. Wit fades; humor lasts.

Alton Telegraph

coum forect- 529 AT BERT CASHIER — JENNIE HODGES — FRED GRANT

In 19006 the marble and granite Illinois monument, resembling the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C. was unveiled near the north edge of the battlefield. It has 47 steps to the base of the dome, the number of days of the Union siege of Vicksburg that began in May 1863. Names of 36,325 Illinois soldiers who served at Vicksburg are engraved on bronze tablets on the interior of the dome.

In 1958 I found Levi B. Casey’s name and close to it was the name of Albert D.J. Cashier, a private who was from Chicago. When the war broke out Albert was in Ireland visiting Jennie Hodges, his Irish sweetheart and fiancée. After learning the war had started Albert decided to return to America and join the Union army. Albert became suddenly sick and died before he could board a ship home. Jennie took his name and boarded the ship with a ticket Albert had bought, and came ‘home’ and joined the Union army as Albert Cashier.

Jennie (Albert), a nineteen—year old, hard marching, hard fighting, pipe smoking, Irish (man) was known around camp as “Little Albert.” She served in several battles and was considered a ‘regular’ foot soldier. After the war she returned to Chicago.

Jennie became a landscaper/gardener for a rich Chicago gentleman. In her seventieth year she was hit by the owner’s car and suffered a broken leg. During the trip to the hospital it was discovered that_A/bert was a woman. She pleaded that this not be disclosed. In 1915 she died and her sex was revealed. When this was disclosed a petition and bill was presented to the Illinois Congtess that the name Albert Cashier be removed from the Illinois monument.

The surviving members of the 95" Illinois Infantry submitted their own proclamation that if her name was removed every one of the 95"" IL should also removed. Her name remains on the monument. A grave site with two monuments — one for Albert and one for Jennie stand side by side in a small cemetery near

Quincy.

‘The name of Fred Grant is also on the wall. He was the son of General Grant and at age twelve he served as his father’s aid-de-

camp.

On March 8, 1971 at Madison Square Garden Ali battled Joe Frazier in a 15-round bout dubbed The Fight OF the Century. “Smoking Joe” was the winner in 15 rounds. Frazier spent the next three weeks in the hospital and Ali, the loser, made the TV talk show rounds and became

even more poplar. In the Ali-Frazier II fight, Ali won.

He defeated George Forman on Oct. 30, 1974 (my 34" birthday) in South Africa mainly with the Rope-A-Dope style. The trip was the basis of his development as a world citizen. Two Black men in a fight nnmed “RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE” brought them fame and worldwide attention. Ali should have retired, but he fought on. He fought Larry Holmes, Ken Norton of Jacksonville, IL, and Leon Spinks of St. Louis. He even fought his old sparring friend, Archie Moore, and finally, at 39, Ali fought Trevor Berbick in the Bahamas. These last fights deepened the devastation of Parkinson ’s disease. This disease robbed him of his trademark mugging. He was unsteady and trembled. He moved slowly. The full extent of his disability became apparent in 1996 when Ali lit the Olympic Flame in Atlanta with te and waved to the crowd who gave him a tremendous ovation.

ribly shaking hands held the torch aloft

In his later years Ali was mostly mute, but you could still see that twinkle in his eye. Ali

died 6/6/16.

In the second paragraph of the Declaration of Independence, the country’s birth certificate are the words written by a Virginian Slave holder, Thomas Jefferson; we hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal. They are in synch today, and hopefully will remain for the future.

If the gentlemen who I spoke of earlier, read this article I hope they do not take offence at

it or believe I wrote it in spite of what they believe. They have their right to their opinion too.

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 original page will appear here.

Alton’s cobbler, Bill Wanger, has a small shop at the bottom of State Street hill. There he plies his trade in leather work which is a wanted and deeply appreciated service of Bill’s many customers. You see, Bill repairs shoes, purses, handbags, belts and other leather goods. He also sells shoes, plus polish, laces, and belts.

There are 12 cobbler machines in his shop. They are lined up on one side of his shop. The machines are heavy and made specifically for cobbler work. He has sewing machines, sole and heel removers, and presses, and each one has its distinctive sound. Numerous small tools, used daily, are in pockets of his blue cobbler’s apron. The tiny wood floored shop smells of new leather, saddle soap, plus Mink oil that I used on ball gloves and favorite boots.

Bill’s talents are his social skills which are on display every day he is in his shop. He reserves Sunday and Monday for his family and hobby. Bill is an excellent bass fisherman and has a proverbial secret little lake just south of Brighton.

An OPEN sign hangs on the front door of the shop, and is Bill’s only marketing activity, not counting the referrals of his clients/customers. He polishes every shoe (and its mate) he repairs and meets deadlines with an amazing on-time record.

I have been going there for years and have always found him in good spirits and ready to help. Most of the time there is a brief conversation about ‘how have you been’ with meaning. His sincerity is genuine.

If success is measured by doing what you want, and it benefits people, Bill is one of the most successful people I have every known.

291

Alton’s Cobbler — Bill Wanger

Alton’s cobbler, Bill Wanger, has a small shop at the bottom of State Street hill. There he plies his trade in leather work which is a wanted and deeply appreciated service of Bill’s many customers. You see, Bill repairs shoes, purses, handbags, belts and other leather goods. He also sells shoes, plus polish, laces, and belts.

There are 12 cobbler machines in his shop. They are lined up on one side of his shop. The machines are heavy and made specifically for cobbler work. He has sewing machines, sole and heel removers, and presses, and each one has its distinctive sound. Numerous small tools, used daily, are in pockets of his blue cobbler’s apron. The tiny wood floored shop smells of new leather, saddle soap, plus Mink oil that I used on ball gloves and favorite boots.

Bill’s talents are his social skills which are on display every day he is in his shop. He reserves Sunday and Monday for his family and hobby. Bill is an excellent bass fisherman and has a proverbial secret little lake just south of Brighton.

An OPEN sign hangs on the front door of the shop, and is Bill’s only marketing activity, not counting the referrals of his clients/customers. He polishes every shoe (and its mate) he repairs and meets deadlines with an amazing on-time record.

I have been going there for years and have always found him in good spirits and ready to help. Most of the time there is a brief conversation about ‘how have you been” with meaning. His sincerity is genuine.

If success is measured by doing what you want, and it benefits people, Bill is one of the most successful people I have every known.

291

Alton’ s Farmer’ s Market – 2021 The Farmer’ s Market is a great place to find fresh locally grown vegetables and fruit, and assortment of specialities, artists, and imaginative vendors. It’ s also a great place to make friends as they support all vendors. Say hello to Tammy when you visit. Tammy Carroll and her husband, Jason, have 88 Nubien goats, including 30 boars, on their 28 acre farm near Alton, IL. They also have 30 bee hives. Their free range chickens lay enough eggs for family use and extras to sell. Tammy makes soaps, She and Jason harvests honey, and Tammy sells these products at Alton Farmer’ s Market every Saturday from early May until the 3rd week in October. Tammy’ s exuberance and obvious enjoyment of meeting people and making friends at the market shows. She does quite well too. All of the goats have names. Really! Both her and her husband like funky music (maybe all kinds of music) and some of the goats have a name of a musician or a band member. A favorite band of their’ s is named Liver Jones and the Flat Worms. The Carroll’ s like sit-coms and names of a cast member might be a name of a goat at their farm. Laverne and Shirley, Reba, Rhoda, stella, Phonz, and Dolly, are among them. They didn’t name the bees or chickens. The hives will be shut down for the winter and the Carroll’ s will leave plenty of honey for them to survive even the harshest winter. A large blue barn is a haven for the goats all year. The chickens have their shelter too. The bees are snug in their hives. The Farmer’ s market is a great place to find fresh locally grown vegetables and fruit. An assortment of specialities, artists, and imaginative vendors make it a great place to visit. Say hello to Tammy when you visit.

The Farmers Market is a great place to find fresh locally grown vegetables and fruit, and assortment of specialities, artists, and imaginative vendors. Its also a great place to make friends as they support all vendors. Say hello to Tammy when you visit.

Tammy Carroll and her husband, Jason, have 88 Nubien goats, including 30 boars, on their 28 acre farm near Alton, IL. They also have 30 bee hives. Their free range chickens lay enough eggs for family use and extras to sell.

Tammy makes soaps, She and Jason harvests honey, and Tammy sells these products at Alton Farmers Market every Saturday from early May until the 3rd week in October. Tammy's exuberance and obvious enjoyment of meeting people and making friends at the market shows. She does quite well too.

All of the goats have names. Really! Both her and her husband like funky music (maybe all kinds of music) and some of the goats have a name of a musician or a band member. A favorite band of their’ is named Liver Jones and the Flat Worms. The CarrollS like sit-coms and names of a cast member might be a name of a goat at their farm. Laverne and Shirley, Reba, Rhoda, stella, Phonz, and Dolly, are among them. They didn’t name the bees or chickens.

The hives will be shut down for the winter and the Carroll$ will leave plenty of honey for them to survive even the harshest winter. A large blue barn is a haven for the goats all year. The chickens have their shelter too. The bees are snug in their hives.

The Farmers market is a great place to find fresh locally grown vegetables and fruit. An assortment of Specialities, artists, and imaginative vendors make it a great place to visit.

Say hello to Tammy when you visit.

Alton, IL (62002) population – approximately 30,000 is located in Southwestern Illinois on the East bank of the Mississippi River. It is approximately 10 miles from North St. Louis, 15 miles from Lambert International Airport and 20 miles from downtown St. Louis. IL St. Rt. 143, Rt. 3, Rt. 67, and Rt. 111 serve the Alton area. Missouri Rt. 367 North connects to IL Rt. 3, and Rt. 67 at the modern and relatively new Clark Bridge that spans the Mississippi River. Alton is a historical and charming community with hills, hollows, and bluff overlooks, with homes from modest to posh.

Alton was once an industrial city of prominence with steel, glass, and container manufacturing plants and now it has become a place of considerable commerce, retail, distribution, and unique shops and businesses. Restaurants and eateries in all ranges abound in Alton. Here you will find franchise restaurants such as Appleby’s, The Golden Corral, Amarillo Tex, The St. Louis Bread Company, and many hamburger, pizza, pasta, chicken, BBQ as well as ethnic restaurants. The Argosy Casino is located in downtown Alton on the Mississippi.

Restaurants, shops, as well as attractive and well-appointed condos and apartments abound in the downtown district. Investors have seen and acted on opportunities and have revitalized Alton. This has improved the quality of life considerably. More and more St. Louis and Missourians come over the Clark Bridge to visit Alton.

Godfrey, IL (62035) – population approximately 25,000 – is located immediately orth of Alton. In fact, Alton-Godfrey is used to describe the entire area. Godfrey has very little commerce other than shops, restaurants and service businesses. It does boast, however, as being one of the best places anywhere to live. It has seen dramatic growth in residential development, including condos, townhouses, and apartment complexes. The excellent topography, access to St. Louis and all of the Metro East area and improved roads have contributed to this growth.

Tourism continues to spur growth in the area. Not only do restaurants, casino, shopping and the quaint city of Alton attract visitors, but also the Mississippi is a recreation destination. The Alton Marina, and nearby villages of Elsah and Grafton contribute to the popularity of area. The American Bald Eagle has helped promote tourism. That’s because they are here every winter for several months. Once only a few, now hundreds of them may be seen along the scenic Great River Road that runs parallel to the Mississippi and the bluffs. The Mississippi provides food and bluffs provide the setting.

To live in or close to downtown Alton means that you are close to what makes for enjoyable and comfortable living. You will be close to St. Louis with big city amenities; world class museums, entertainment, major league sports (Cardinals, Rams and Blues), and an international airport. Alton-Godfrey area boasts about their splendid parks, hiking & bike trails and recreation areas as well as being close to the country and outdoors. What is also remarkable is that it is one of the lowest cost of living areas in all of Illinois.

Remarkable is the right word to describe the area for home buyers, investors, developers, and entrepreneurs. Don’t wait too long to visit to come to Alton-Godfrey..

684

Alton, IL (62002) population – approximately 30,900 is located in Southwestern Illinois on the East bank of the Mississippi River. It is approximately 10 miles from North St. Louis, 15 miles from Lambert International Airport and 20 miles from downtown St. Louis. IL St. Rt. 143, Rt. 3, Rt. 67, and Rt. 111 serve the Alton area. Missouri Rt. 367 North connects to IL Rt. 3, and Rt. 67 at the modern and relatively new Clark Bridge that spans the Mississippi River. Alton is a historical and charming community. It is full of hills, hollows, bluff overlooks, (it’s not level) with homes from modest to posh.

Alton was once an industrial city of prominence with steel, glass, and container manufacturing plants and now it has become a place of considerable commerce, retail, distribution, and unique shops and businesses. Restaurants and eateries in all ranges abound in Alton. Here you will find franchise restaurants such as Appleby’s, The Golden Corral, Amarillo Texas, The St. Louis Bread Company, and many hamburger, pizza, pasta, chicken, as well as ethnic restaurants. The Argosy Casino is located in downtown Alton on the Mississippi.

Restaurants, shops, as well as attractive and well-appointed condos and apartments have been created in the downtown district. Investors have seen and acted on opportunities and have revitalized Alton. This has improved the quality of life considerably. More and more North St. Louis folks come over the Clark Bridge to visit Alton. Some buy and stay here.

Godfrey, IL (62035) – population approximately 25,000 – is located immediately North of Alton. In fact, Alton/Godfrey is used to describe the entire area. Godfrey has very little commerce other than shops, restaurants and service businesses. It does boast, however, as being one of the best places anywhere to live. It has seen dramatic growth in residential development, including condos, townhouses, and apartment complexes. The excellent topography, access to St. Louis and all of the Metro East area and improved roads have contributed to this growth.

Tourism has also continued to spur grown in the area. Not only do the restaurants, the casino, shopping and the quaint city of Alton attract visitors, but also the Mississippi is cleaner and more of a recreation destination. A new Alton Marina, and nearby villages of Elsah and Grafton contribute to the popularity of Alton. And, The American Bald Eagle has helped promote tourism. That’s because they are here every winter for several months. Once only a few, now hundreds of them may be seen along the scenic Great River Road that runs parallel to the Mississippi and the bluffs. The Mississippi provides the food and the bluffs provide the setting.

To live in or close to downtown Alton means that you are close to what makes for enjoyable and comfortable living. You will be close to St. Louis with big city amenities; world class museums, entertainment, major league sports (Cardinals, Rams and Blues), the airport, and living in Alton you will also be close to the country and outdoors with splendid parks, hiking and bike trails, and recreation. What is also remarkable is that it is one of the lowest cost of living areas in all of Illinois.

Remarkable is the right word to describe the area for home buyers, investors, developers, and entrepreneurs. Don’t wait too long.

AMERICANS

An American is English, French, Italian, Irish, German, Spanish, Polish, Russian, Greek, Australian, Puerto Rican, Canadian, Mexican, African, Indian, and Chinese. An American may also be Japanese, Korean, Australian, Iranian, Arab, or Indian. An American may also be a Cherokee, Osage, Navaho, or Apache.

An American is Christian, or he or she could be Jewish, or Buddhist, or Muslin. An American is free to worship as each of them chooses. An American is also free to believe in no religion. For that he or she will answer only to God, not to the government.

An American is from the most prosperous land in the history of the world. The root of that prosperity can be found in the hearts and minds of all Americans and in the Declaration of Independence, which recognized the God given right of each person, the pursuit of happiness.

Americans welcome the best, the best products, the best books, the best music, the best food, the best athletes. But they also welcome the least. America has welcomed the tired and poor, the wretched refuse of other lands, the homeless, tempest tossed. These, in fact, are the people who built America.

Americans are not a particular people from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom. Everyone who holds to that spirit, everywhere, is an American. Now, America is poised for war.

War means fighting and fighting means killing. This is reality. But let us not forget that freedom is costly. Let us also not forget that our armed forces are willing to “get it on” when it comes to protecting Americans. For that Americans are thankful.

3/18/03 – john casey

Just prior to the War in Iraq.

An act of kindness

I heard a story of a new Nordstrom’s employee who won an award by how she had handled a customer’s complaint about the poor quality and price of two tires he had purchased. The man came into the store rolling both tires with his hands, propped them up at the May We Help You desk and asked to speak to someone/anyone IN CHARGE. The employee, a middle aged lady, said she was and listened carefully to him and when he was finished she asked what he wanted to do regarding the tires. He said, emphatically, he wanted a cash refund -no exchange. He did not have a receipt and told her what he had paid in cash for the tires. The employee calmly filled out a voucher for him to sign which he did, then promptly gave him a cash refund and thanked him for shopping at Nordstrom’s and asked him to come back. The man, obviously pleased, said he and would.

The employee was awarded employee of the month, her first with Nordstrom’s. When she received the award she was pleased. She was then immediately embarrassed to learn that Nordstrom’s did not sell tires. I believe two acts of kindness are illustrated in the story, one by the employee and one by the award. Obviously, Nordstrom’s valued their employee who valued the customer. Obviously too, is that the employee needed more training to becoming acquainted with Nordstrom’s merchandise. The single most important rule the company had when dealing with an irate customer was, “USE YOUR OWN GOOD JUDGEMENT.”

My mom once told me, “I can live a month on a single compliment.” Naturally, I gave her one right away hoping for favoritism in the near future. That was a long time ago and I have been reminded of her quote about a compliment. I’ve used it from time to time as she would have liked and it seemed to work every time. The response was always positive from the recipient.

Recently I was very ill and needed care that only a staff of trained professionals at a hospital could provide. I’m talking about the entire staff. I was seriously concerned that I would make it and my thoughts were of myself.

Only yesterday while I was getting assistance in getting prints from a digital camera a young girl of 12 or so, came up to me and said, “I just love your hat” and scooted off somewhere in the store. Her remark flushed my cheeks a bit and made me smile. Now, I know she was not flirting, just being kind and my hat was nothing to brag about. It was black, rather flat-and sort of like an artist’s hat; one that an older gentleman might wear. The compliment was to the hat I thought and not directly to me, but it reminded me of the power of positive remarks.

An act of kindness The Albritton brothers, Phil and Danny, were childhood buddies of mine. They lived next door and were always ready for an adventure or a game, especially Danny who was a year older than me. One day after a game of kick-the can, mom called me to come home for lunch. As soon as lunch was over I headed back to the yard. Everyone except Danny had left. I asked him if he wanted a piece of apple pie that my mom had just baked. He said, “Sure.” I raced back home and asked mom for a piece of pie to take to Danny and she gave me a good slice and back I ran. I gave Danny the pie and expected him to eat it with his hands as I often did. He said he couldn’t and had to take it home. Why, I asked and he told me that one piece of pie was not enough, he had to cut it and share it with his brother. “Huh?” I had three older brothers and had never heard of that. At home when there were not enough pieces to go around, someone got left out. Danny said that his mom insisted that her two sons share everything and if there was a need to divide something, it was done. He said when he and Phil shared a candy bar whoever broke the bar the other brother had the first choice. It was important to break the candy bar so each would get an equal share. That’s why Danny took the piece of pie home so that his brother could cut it in two pieces and he could eat his share. I never forgot that act of kindness. Last week when I was in a bank a small boy, perhaps 4, was talking to his mom in the teller line next to me. The boy was excited and the teller asked his mom why he was so happy. His mom explained that they were going to Germany to see the exchange student who had lived with them while attending school in Alton. Her son had become attached with “his big brother” and was happy to be going to see him. She added that her son liked money and knew she was getting some for the trip. The boy said his friend liked American money and he was going to take him some. When my transaction ended I asked my teller for two one dollar coins. They were Luther B. Hayes presidential coins. I asked the boy’s mom if I could give the coins to her son and she answered affirmative. I gave the boy the coins and asked that he to give one to his friend and to keep the other one. He graciously accepted them and said, “I will.” His mom also thanked me. It was a good moment for all of us. It wasn’t generosity that prompted the act it was a simple act of kindness so easily done. From time to time I’ve seen people perform acts of kindness that were unexpected and always improved the moment. A compliment also has a good effect when it is sincerely given. “That’s a beautiful red dress you have on.” “You look terrific in your red dress.” Which statement is the compliment? It’s the second one of course because it is directed to someone and not a thing. It’s the way you say something that makes a difference. I heard my mom say, “I can live a month on a single compliment.” I quickly gave her one knowing sooner or later I would need her kindness in dealing with me when I said, “I didn’t mean it.” Written: 1/24/2014 John Casey 435 ½ Bluff Street Alton, IL 62002 618-670-5646 jrcasey134@gmail.com

An act of kindness

The Albritton brothers, Phil and Danny, were childhood buddies of mine. They lived next door and were always ready for an adventure or a game, especially Danny who was a year older than me.

One day after a game of kick-the can, mom called me to come home for lunch. As soon as lunch was over I headed back to the yard. Everyone except Danny had left. I asked him if he wanted a piece of apple pie that my mom had just baked. He said, “Sure.” I raced back home and asked mom for a piece of pie to take to Danny and she gave me a good slice and back I ran. I gave Danny the pie and expected him to eat it with his hands as I often did. He said he couldn’t and had to take it home. Why, I asked and he told me that one piece of pie was not enough, he had to cut it and share it with his brother. “Huh?” I had three older brothers and had never heard of that. At home when there were not enough pieces to go around, someone got left out.

Danny said that his mom insisted that her two sons share everything and if there was a need to divide something, it was done. He said when he and Phil shared a candy bar whoever broke the bar the other brother had the first choice. It was important to break the candy bar so each would get an equal share. That’s why Danny took the piece of pie home so that his brother could cut it in two pieces and he could eat his share. I never forgot that act of kindness.

Last week when I was in a bank a small boy, perhaps 4, was talking to his mom in the teller line next to me. The boy was excited and the teller asked his mom why he was so happy. His mom explained that they were going to Germany to see the exchange student who had lived with them while attending school in Alton. Her son had become attached with “his big brother” and was happy to be going to see him. She added that her son liked money and knew she was getting some for the trip. The boy said his friend liked American money and he was going to take him some. When my transaction ended I asked my teller for two one dollar coins. They were Luther B. Hayes presidential coins.

L asked the boy’s mom if I could give the coins to her son and she answered affirmative. I gave the boy the coins and asked that he to give one to his friend and to keep the other one. He graciously accepted them and said, “I will.” His mom also thanked me.

It was a good moment for all of us. It wasn’t generosity that prompted the act it was a simple act of kindness so easily done. From time to time I’ve seen people perform acts of kindness that were unexpected and always improved the moment.

A compliment also has a good effect when it is sincerely given. “That’s a beautiful red dress you have on.” “You look terrific in your red dress.” Which statement is the compliment? It’s the second one of course because it is directed to someone and not a thing. It’s the way you say something that makes a difference.

I heard my mom say, “I can live a month on a single compliment.” I quickly gave her one knowing sooner or later I would need her kindness in dealing with me when I said, “I didn’t mean it.” Written: 1/24/2014 John Casey 435 % Bluff Street Alton, IL 62002

618-670-5646 jrcasey134@gmail.com

An act of kindness

Theard a story of a new Nordstrom’s employee who won an award by how she had handled a customer’s complaint about the poor quality and price of two tires he had purchased. The man came into the store rolling both tires with his hands, propped them up at the May We Help You desk and asked to speak to someone/anyone IN CHARGE. The employee, a middle aged lady, said she was and listened carefully to him and when he was finished she asked what he wanted to do regarding the tires. He said, emphatically, he wanted a cash refund -no exchange. He did not have a receipt and told her what he had paid in cash for the tires. The employee calmly filled out a voucher for him to sign which he did, then promptly gave him a cash refund and thanked him for shopping at Nordstrom’s and asked him to come back. The man, obviously pleased, said he and would.

The employee was awarded employee of the month, her first with Nordstrom’s. When she received the award she was pleased. She was then immediately embarrassed to learn that Nordstrom’s did not sell tires. I believe two acts of kindness are illustrated in the story, one by the employee and one by the award. Obviously, Nordstrom’s valued their employee who valued the customer. Obviously too, is that the employee needed more training to becoming acquainted with Nordstrom’s merchandise. The single most important rule the company had when dealing with an irate customer was, “USE YOUR OWN GOOD JUDGEMENT.”

My mom once told me, “I can live a month on a single compliment.” Naturally, I gave her one right away hoping for favoritism in the near future. That was a long time ago and I have been reminded of her quote about a compliment. I’ve used it from time to time as she would have liked and it seemed to work every time. The response was always positive from the recipient.

Recently I was very ill and needed care that only a staff of trained professionals at a hospital could provide. I’m talking about the entire staff. I was seriously concerned that I would make it and my thoughts were of myself.

Only yesterday while I was getting assistance in getting prints from a digital camera a young girl of 12 or so, came up to me and said, “I just love your hat” and scooted off somewhere in the store. Her remark flushed my cheeks a bit and made me smile. Now, I know she was not flirting, just being kind and my hat was nothing to brag about. It was black, rather flat-and sort of like an artist’s hat; one that an older gentleman might wear. The compliment was to the hat I thought and not directly to me, but it reminded me of the power of positive remarks.

An act of kindness

Theard a story of a new Nordstrom’s employee who won an award by how she had handled a customer’s complaint about the poor quality and price of two tires he had purchased. The man came into the store rolling both tires with his hands, propped them up at the May We Help You desk and asked to speak to someone/anyone INCHARGE. The employee, a middle aged lady, said she was and listened carefully to him and when he was finished she asked what he wanted to do regarding the tires. He said, emphatically, he wanted a cash refund -no exchange. He did not have a receipt and told her what he had paid in cash for the tires. The employee calmly filled out a voucher for him to sign which he did, then promptly gave him a cash refund and thanked him for shopping at Nordstrom’s and asked him to come back. The man, obviously pleased, said he would.

The employee was awarded employee of the month, her first with Nordstrom’s. When she received the award she was pleased. She was then immediately embarrassed to learn that Nordstrom’s did not sell tires. I believe two acts of kindness are illustrated in the story, one by the employee and one by the award. Obviously, Nordstrom’s valued their employee who valued the customer. Obviously too, is that the employee needed more training to becoming acquainted with Nordstrom’s merchandise. The single most important rule the company had when dealing with an irate customer was, “USE YOUR OWN GOOD JUDGEMENT.”

My last errand today was a stop at Schnucks and buy beer and a steak. I pushed a small cart from my near- the-door parking spot and went straight to the liquor department and picked up a SUMMER SANDY six pack. $7.99. From there I went to the meat department and with the help of a very friendly meat man purchased a strip steak. He explained how to cook the steak in a iron skillet. He liked medium rare and I like medium rare. $7.00. A short cut by the pharmacy and I hesitated at the BP machine. OK. I’ m 81 and have a weak heart. A pharmacy staff came over and guided me in taking the test; 134 over 64. I wrote the numbers on the steak’s wrap. A quick checkout by a friendly young lady and out I went. I arrived at my car and discovered that I left my keys at the BP station. my car was locked. It would be smart of me to guide my cart back into the store and find my keys and return. I”m 81! Making decisions is gonna last a life time. I reasoned that it would take me only a minute or so to fetch the keys and return to my car and go home. I don’t shuffle badly, but I’m not a dasher or a strider and after finding the keys at the BP station I walked back to my car and an empty cart. Empty. Dang. Stupid me. It took me only minutest for the round trip. Schnucks is the areas supermarket. Their reputation is quality products and well-trained employees. I went back and explained what happened. An elderly lady listened to my short message and said she would check with her upline. Several minutes later she appeared through a pane of plastic. She never looked up to see if I was still around. I was. I approached her and she said “There’s noting we can do.” “Sorry.” I didn’t hurry but quietly trudged back to my car. Guess it’s left overs tonight. I’m got opinions. I have no anger. BUT, I believe customer service and kindness is not hard to give. It’s the core of any business. The products are important, but good customer service is a sustaining trait. It equals profit. Bad people take advantage of circumstances and will swipe your beer or groceries They will course through a parking lot like Schuncks, Target, Farm and Homes and others and look inside, test locks, and hustle to the next unsuspecting person like me. Consider developing a staff with recognition of exceptional service, kindness and concern of their customers. Reward them to emphasize taking care to remind themselves to look after themselves. Be aware. Safe guard your valuables. You are important to us. A tag on a collar. Schnucks and I appreciate you. You are a 10! I’m working on it.

Reading, writing and talking

An essay is the most elastic prose form – it can be a search of truth, serious or very personal, or an expression of likes; gently humorous, or uproariously funny. It can be exactly what it’s author wants it to be.

An essay is a personal standpoint, often and likely self indulgent, amusing and charming. The author may simply write for the fun of it and hopes the reader reads it for the pleasure of it.

Most essays contain a kernel of truth revealing the character and humor of the writer. A writer can be whimsical or serious. It indicates the writer has a quick ear and eye.

A essay is a kind of post in prose. A good measure of mirth is in most essays. Writing about oneself is not necessarily offensive.

A modest truthful man speaks better about himself than about anything else. If a man is worth knowing at all; he is worth knowing well. A essayist gives you his thought, he does not hide, only tells you how he came by them.

Who can tell an exact line between wit and humor? Humor is more comfortable. Wit has been employed against me, whereas, humor is my ally. It doesn’t point it’s finger into my defects.

editor of an underground newspaper. I was impressed with her brains and addicted to her body. So, I’m being honest.

She called me most of the time when she could go out and she asked me to go on dates here and there. Of course, I went happily. I liked it better when it was only to be her and me hanging out. She liked to cook fancy foods and she had to teach me manners. Once we went to the Muny and she brought the food in a picnic basket. The sparkling white wine set off the white grapes and cheese. The shrimp dip on Ritz was also fine. We used the best silver and crystal glasses and I smacked my lips a lot. I can’t remember the Muny production, but I remember the picnic Beth and I had that evening.

I was an aspiring young banker and she was an ambitious teacher with plans of becoming semi famous as a writer. Her education was far past mine and she was planning to get more degrees. She said that a family was not in her plans and that she would remain childless as her choice. She knew that was not what I wanted. After long talks and sharing our lives, plans, and ambitions we understood that we were not going to commit to each other. We had a glorious time and on the night we decided not to see each other again we gave each other presents of books and special items. We had to let the other one go and we promised to love each other the rest of our lives and to remember all of the good things. I have kept that promise. I have looked for her books and when I’m in a crowd or place that she might have chosen to go, I look for Beth Lahr’s eyes.

The preacher who baptized me was Jack Parrish. I was 13, just past the age when Baptists could make up their own mind about salvation, so my mom told me. I think you had to be 12 o better to be really saved. Jack saved a bunch of us Tunnel Hill natives that year and I wasn't the youngest or the oldest. I hope it stuck on all of us.

There were about ten of us who waded into the northeast side of Beauman's lake to join Jack who was fully clothed and tied. I guess he was fully shoed too. I wore a good pair of blue jeans and the only white shirt to my name, but not shoes or socks. I waded out to Jack where he stood in waist deep (to him) water. Us new Christians were lined up waiting for our turn to be immersed into the murky water which hopefully would cleanse our souls and preserve a place for us in heaven – all of us.

When it was my turn, I turned loose of the devil, put my trust in the

Lord, and my body in Jack's hands. He swiftly dunked me, washing away something, that I was sure, perhaps the sins of my early childhood. Thirteen years of sin gone. My eyes had been closed the moment he put one arm behind my back and the other on my face as he shoved me backwards. SAVED!

Our feet were muddy, but our souls were as white as they ever would be. Jesus had a hold of me. I knew that and so did Jack Parrish, thank God.

Jack was about 37 when he baptized me. He was average build, wore glasses and spoke softly. He carried his bible, Baptist fashion, in his cupped hand with extended arm. He preached goodness and not damnation or fear of eternal punishing fire.

Jack came to our house for Sunday dinner (noon) often, about once a month, and always sat next to dad and mom. He passed food before he took any for him and said the thigh was the best piece of chicken. I liked that a lot and the fact he passed food to his left and before some of the older kids could latch onto a piece of treasured white meat. It gave me a chance that otherwise would not happen.

He loved angel food cake and when he came to dinner, mom made angel food cake. I thought it was a family cake, but rather believe it was special just for Jack Parrish. My mom could cook a wonderful peach upside down cake and her Betty Crocker chocolate cakes were good too, but her angel food cake was tops.

We had laying hens and eggs were usually easy to come by. My mom would use 13 eggs in one angel food cake. The egg whites were beaten just right with just the right amount of sugar before being mixed with the flour and other

The preacher who baptized me was Jack Parrish. I was 13, just past the age when Baptists could make up their own mind about salvation, so my mom told me. I think you had to be 12 0 better to be really saved. Jack saved a bunch of us Tunnel Hill natives that year and I wasn't the youngest or the oldest. I hope it stuck on all of us.

There were about ten of us who waded into the northeast side of Beauman's lake to join Jack who was fully clothed and tied. I guess he was fully shoed too. I wore a good pair of blue jeans and the only white shirt to my name, but not shoes or socks. I waded out to Jack where he stood in waist deep (to him) water. Us new Christians were lined up waiting for our turn to be immersed into the murky water which hopefully would cleanse our souls and preserve a place for us in heaven – all of us.

When it was my turn, I tured loose of the devil, put my trust in the Lord, and my body in Jack's hands. He swiftly dunked me, washing away something I was sure, perhaps the sins of my early childhood. Thirteen years of sin gone. My eyes had been closed the moment he put one arm behind my back and the other on my face as he shoved me backwards. SAVED!

Our feet were muddy, but our souls were as white as they ever would be. Jesus had a hold of me. I knew that and so did Jack Parrish, thank God.

Jack was about 37 when he baptized me. He was average build, wore glasses and spoke softly. He carried his bible, Baptist fashion, in his cupped hand with extended arm. He preached goodness and not damnation or fear of eternal punishing fire.

Jack came to dinner often, about once a month, and always sat next to dad and mom. He passed food before he took any for him and said the thigh was the best piece of chicken. I liked that a lot and the fact he passed food to his left and before some of the older kids could latch onto a piece of treasured white meat. It gave me a chance that otherwise would not happen.

He loved angel food cake and when he came to dinner, mom made angel food cake. I thought it was a family cake, but rather believe it was special just for Jack Parrish. My mom could cook a wonderful peach upside down cake and her Betty Crocker chocolate cakes were good too, but her angel food cake was tops.

We had laying hens and eggs were usually easy to come by. My mom would use 13 eggs in one angel food cake. The egg whites were beaten just right with just the right amount of sugar before being mixed with the flour and other ingredients before pouring the batter into the aluminum angel food cake pan.

When that pan came out, I knew Jack was coming to dinner and that there was an outside chance for me to get a piece of white meat. Jack Parrish was easily the best preacher the little Baptist church had ever had. I can see him in the lake, and I can see him at our family table passing chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and getting the first piece of mom's 13-egg angel food cake.

There were at least two angels at the table, Jack Parrish and my mom.

John Casey 11-08-2001

From the first day I have lived at 435 1/2 Blu! Street, Alton, IL I have improved the apartment. It is comfortable and clean. There’s a hint of eclectic decor that is constantly ongoing. The house is more than 100 years old. It was converted into two apartments, one down and one up. I live in the upstairs. Wall to wall carpeting was in the living room, dinning room and main bedroom. I rented a carpet cleaning machine from St. Peters Hardware and cleaned it.Then the rooms were professionally cleaned by Chris Kane who owned a carpet cleaning company. I purchased a crowbar and used a carpet knife and a claw hammer to remove the carpet and carpet pad. The wood floor was lightly stained and polished. A area rug compliments the room and furniture. There is a sun burst wall hanging piece and a large painted artist cloth of a male swimmer in the 1985 Triathlon held at Kona, HI that hangs on the east wall. I painted several canvasses in block style to coordinate with the area rug. With the landlord’s permission and help the carpet and pad in the dinning room was removed. Carpet and pad remains in the bedroom. two scatter rugs were placed in the center of the room. I have arthritis in my feet and left knee and hip. The heavy cord of the area rug is soothing. The room in the SE area was once a bedroom. Common lumber planks is the floor material. Several coats of wood stain were applied. It too has a scatter rug. With permission I painted the walls and ceilings in the DEN, a light cadet grey color. I bought a ceiling fan for this room that the landlord installed. Closets are used for seasonal clothes, shoes, and various goods. Clothes are rotated from a storage area in the attic. A window air conditioner was installed. Also a window air conditioner has been installed in the bedroom and guest room. One is for sleeping comfort and the other is when I am doing laundry, and ironing. The bathroom walls and ceiling have been painted. A plumbing problem was patched. I installed a removable stabilizing bar in the tub/shower area. The landlord installed a large one. for balance and to assist getting in and out pf the tub. Thanks.

From the first day | have lived at 435 1/2 Bluff Street, Alton, IL | have improved the apartment. It is comfortable and clean. There’s a hint of eclectic decor that is constantly ongoing. The house is more than 100 years old. It was converted into two apartments, one down and one up. | live in the upstairs.

Wall to wall carpeting was in the living room, dinning room and main bedroom. | rented a carpet cleaning machine from St. Peters Hardware and cleaned it. Then the rooms were professionally cleaned by Chris Kane who owned a carpet cleaning company.

| purchased a crowbar and used a carpet knife and a claw hammer to remove the carpet and carpet pad. The wood floor was lightly stained and polished. A area rug compliments the room and furniture.

There is a sun burst wall hanging piece and a large painted artist cloth of a male swimmer in the 1985 Triathlon held at Kona, HI that hangs on the east wall. | painted several canvasses in block style to coordinate with the area rug.

With the landlord’s permission and help the carpet and pad in the dinning room was removed.

Carpet and pad remains in the bedroom. two scatter rugs were placed in the center of the room. | have arthritis in my feet and left knee and hip. The heavy cord of the area rug is soothing.

The room in the SE area was once a bedroom. Common lumber planks is the floor material. Several coats of wood stain were applied. It too has a scatter rug.

With permission | painted the walls and ceilings in the DEN, a light cadet grey color. | bought a ceiling fan for this room that the landlord installed.

Closets are used for seasonal clothes, shoes, and various goods. Clothes are rotated from a storage area in the attic.

A window air conditioner was installed. Also a window air conditioner has been installed in the bedroom and guest room. One is for sleeping comfort and the other is when | am doing laundry, and ironing.

The bathroom walls and ceiling have been painted. A plumbing problem was patched. | installed a removable stabilizing bar in the tub/shower area. The landlord installed a large one. for balance and to assist getting in and out pf the tub. Thanks.

thinking. [have a paint box with brushes and half used paint jars, (some tiny). I have a gallon of paint thinner.

T have a shoe shine box, several tins of polish along with several brushes, and admit that my shoes are shined most of the time. I have four pairs of boots, but only one is a favorite. The cowboy boots my brother gave me are in the attic all shined up. There’s a nice bicycle in the basement.

I boxed up my hunting clothes and gear and put them in the attic. That’s where I put most of my fishing gear, especially my ice fishing stuff. I might not hunt again, but fishing is a different story. I’ll use cold weather boots this winter when I trek out to ice fish. Ice fishing gear is different than regular fishing gear. An ice skimmer, short rods, light line and tiny hooks. Also small bobbers and small jigs, a minnow bucket, a fishing stool, stringers, etc. Last year I went ice fishing at least five times and caught at least five fish. I lost 20 jigs, an ice hammer, and two gloves that fit my right hand only. My buddy lost two fishing rigs and I don’t know what else.

The 8 X 8 X 8 garden is resting. It has 4×8’s for borders. It has 8-inches of dirt/soil. I have a rake, a shovel, a hoe, and a short length of hose. Tomatoes and peppers are main stays. I’ve grown strawberries, lettuce, brussel sprouts and radishes too. Large planters usually contain herbs and/or flowers. It is a fun little retreat and provides a surprising amount of fresh garden goodies. I pick and dry herbs and put them into containers to use when I cook. BLTs are terrific when the tomatoes are from my garden.

Writing this musing has tired me out and I think I’ll do something else. If I keep this, it will be to remind me to cut down on the things I have and do more socializing, like playing golf with my buddies.

John 12/2011 – end

When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. There is no way to happiness, happiness is the way.

The spirit does not have a shape. I look like myself, but I am my spirit. When I am inspired I am snspirit, I must suspend my ego. My ego is the idea I carry around about myself. I am what I do, think and be.

We are all spiritual beings having human experiences, not human beings having spiritual experiences.

Town my life. I amall that I truly have. I don't need to be right. I don't need to have more. There is nothing missing. My life is full. It can be different with different thoughts, people, and events in it, but is not empty, it is full. It is up to me to make changes in my life.

My emotions and thoughts can keep me separate from my source. Every thought I've had that is negative is resistance to my connection to my source.

I'm better than I used to be in every single way. I get it now. I have the creative power to live my life on purpose and out loud.

The energy of my life is my thoughts. I receive energy from friends, family, animals, books, music, the people around me and the food I eat. I came froma field of energy. Iam from an infinite source, I am now here, and I will return to an infinite source. While I am here I will find a way to give service and to be kind. It will provide me with energy. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Beauty is truth – truth beauty – one.

The hardest part of stopping is stopping

A great sin is to judge without knowledge

’m haunted by what I don’t know

If you expect respect, offer it.

My obligation in life, it seems, is to widen the scope of my life

The lies I’ve told are far outweighed by the truths

Muscle should be where it should be

f you don’t mean it, people are going to know you don’t mean it My son is more important to me that I am to him, and I accept that Always have bail money on you

’m a selective honest man

Friendship first, competition second

I dream in English

What makes for a good character is weakness and strength

People like to make people feel jealous

A variety of texture, that’s what, makes a good sandwich

A little volatility along the way improves a good relationship

Your friends nick name you because they know exactly who you are My childhood made me who I am

Without my childhood something else would’ve happened

It was the in between time of my trip that was so enjoyable and not travel. I had no expectations for either, knowing that time would flow, things would happen and on and on.

Trains travel on level (or almost) tracks and the landscape has been train high all the way and not very pretty except skylines of large cities like St. Louis, Little Rock, Dallas, Fort Worth and Austin. On the train there are large comfortable seats in the coach car and in the observation car; a well stocked snack bar, including liquid refreshments; and a dinning car that serves — I’m told — good food. You can snuggle into somewhat comfortable positions for sleeping in reclining seats, but a pillow and a blanket really help.

Mostly delightful people ride the train and it’s easy to start conversations — usually about “where are you heading and where did you come from?” Then a relationship can begin. Adventure, I believe is a primary reason for taking the rain after the obvious, the price for a ticket. There is freedom on a train too. You can walk (shakily) from car to car and down the narrow stairs to the bathrooms and snack compartment. There was no hassle with baggage and screening to deal with on the train which appeals to me and lots of folks. You just show your ticket and a photo id and carry your bags on board, store them in baggage bins, and find a seat in your assigned car. Since the train was not full I had a double seat at a large window. It was comfortable and large enough for somewhat comfortable sleeping.

I boarded the Texas Eagle train # 21 at Alton, IL with Austin, Texas my destination. Soon after boarding we were in view of the St. Louis skyline. It was beautiful in the early evening when we passed by with the shiny Gateway Arch he main feature.

APHORISMS Your best is always good enough

You are most intelligent when you aren't trying to be

No is enough, you don't have to say it twice

A friendship that ends was never one

You can replace lies with truth

Any excuse is enough

Charm is the ability to insult people without offending them Don't apologize when you plan to do it again

When you think you have insulted someone, you have

We love imperfections in others because it lets us be less critical of ourselves You can out live your strength, never your wisdom

The weak shows their strength and hides their weaknesses

Before you criticize anyone ask yourself, “What Have I got to lose?”

The people they become ina crisis are the people they are

When writing, if one thing is wrong, the whole thing is wrong

Knowledge is powerful Humility is admired

You notice close encounters Of the first, second, third and sixty-six kind. Odd is normal. Normal is odd.

At home, in a space capsule, On a Ferris Wheel or 4-wheeler You are like the Mad-Hatter Through the hula-hoops of life.

You are as dingbaity, Brilliant, genius oriented And patty-cake as they come. New you get the picture.

You believe in TCB And you mind your own business And fully expect others To mind theirs, “thank you very much.”

Yeu are forever looking skyward, To the rear, To the sides, But you never look down.

You are called “brilliant

And an inventive genius, The last hope for the human race, And the leader of the new age.”

Never mind all that. f cali you nitzo, Cuckoo, as unpredictable As a comic valentine to Quasimodo.

You have one foot in Heaven, One on Earth. Your head is in the clouds, And your ears are fastened the wrong way.

Yeu have probably lost your contact lenses In the ice-cube tray of the refrigerator. “is there something unusual about that? Why are you complaining?”

You say, “Ail the world is queer, Save for me and thee… I answer, “And sometimes theu art a little freaked.” You answer, “Thanks buddy, for helping me out, I'm so fergetful.”

Do you really believe the waterless toilet Might actually save the planet? It could bring back rich fertile soil, And you have had considerable in-the-field experience.

The only thing predictable about you, Whatever your age, weight, social security number and previous references, is that you're totally unpredictable.

That is a glorious miracle. Your potential for seeing rainbows And leprechauns Are a beil-ringing reality.

john casey 10/04/2001

Please forgive me for having so much fun writing This little ditty about you. It is how ] think. You are a delight to be around.

Thanks. jc

The original page will appear here.

Today is 11-11-02 and it’s Armistice Day in America. The airwaves are full of patriotic messages about remembrances of our military importance.

I remember VJ Day in America in August of 1945. I was not yet five years old. I guess it was a lot like Armistice Day (Nov. 11, 1918) after World War I. Something strange was happening in my hometown of Tunnel Hill, Illinois. The Baptist and Methodist Church bells were ringing and it was not even Sunday. They kept ringing and ringing. It was eerie, and strange. Was there a contest between the Baptists and the Methodists — maybe? I remembered that some Sundays the Baptist rang their bell before the Methodist did, and being a Baptist (whatever that was) made me proud. I didn’t know the difference between the two, but knew the Baptists “dunked” theirs and the Methodists “sprinkled” theirs.

Then I heard the honking of cars, but did not see any cars. “What’s going on,” I thought. But hey, I’m not yet five. It was to be a special day for everyone in America. It was History.

My mom is actually running through our yard to meet our neighbor, Sylvia Jobe, who was also running through her yard to meet my mom. I have never seen anything like that. I had never seen my mom run and Sylvia was way weigh heavier than my mom and she was bouncing along – prancing along actually. They met and joined hands and hugged each other and danced up and down, laughing and giggling, whooping it up, hollering and yelling, and also crying at the same time.

I wasn’t running or jumping, or laughing or whooping it up, and I certainly wasn’t going to cry. What’s there to cry about? Why do you cry when you’re laughing, for goodness sakes? What has gotten in to everyone? The church bells kept on ringing for what seemed to be forever. I wish I had counted, but there must have been more than 100 ding- dongs from each church. Even after the church bells stopped ringing a car horn was heard here and there, and every time a car came through Tunnel Hill another horn would blow. The driver would stick his head out the door, wave and whoop it up as loud as anything.

I wasn’t sure, but I think I saw everyone in Tunnel Hill that day outside their houses and waving to anyone and everyone they saw. Even old lady Lawrence, who must have been 90, was outside on her porch waving to anyone she saw. Now, that was something: old Becky Lawrence, dressed like she always did with a black dress with white flecks, a white but yellowing apron, black shoes and her grey hair was done up in a knot in back. But she had a beautiful smile on her face that I had never seen before and waving to beat the band and twirling herself around a porch post. I was sure she would break her skinny neck and someone would have to pick her up and pack her back into her old gray unpainted house on Low Street. 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, but liked to run across her plank porch making it rattle and hide behind the poplar tree across the street and watch her come to the door, part the lace curtains and look out.

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

Today is 11-11-02 and it’s Armistice Day in America. The airwaves are full of patriotic messages about remembrances of our military importance.

I remember VJ Day in America in August of 1945. I was not yet five years old. I guess it was a lot like Armistice Day (Nov. 11, 1918) after World War I. Something strange was happening in my hometown of Tunnel Hill, Illinois. The Baptist and Methodist Church bells were ringing and it was not even Sunday. They kept ringing and ringing. It was eerie, and strange. Was there a contest between the Baptists and the Methodists — maybe? I remembered that some Sundays the Baptist rang their bell before the Methodist did, and being a Baptist (whatever that was) made me proud. I didn’t know the difference between the two, but knew the Baptists “dunked” theirs and the Methodists “sprinkled” theirs.

Then I heard the honking of cars, but did not see any cars. “What’s going on,” I thought. But hey, I’m not yet five. It was to be a special day for everyone in America. It was History.

My mom is actually running through our yard to meet our neighbor, Sylvia Jobe, who was also running through her yard to meet my mom. I have never seen anything like that. Ihad never seen my mom run and Sylvia was way weigh heavier than my mom and she was bouncing along – prancing along actually. They met and joined hands and hugged each other and danced up and down, laughing and giggling, whooping it up, hollering and yelling, and also crying at the same time.

I wasn’t running or jumping, or laughing or whooping it up, and I certainly wasn’t going to cry. What’s there to cry about? Why do you cry when you’re laughing, for goodness sakes? What has gotten in to everyone? The church bells kept on ringing for what seemed to be forever. I wish I had counted, but there must have been more than 100 ding- dongs from each church. Even after the church bells stopped ringing a car horn was heard here and there, and every time a car came through Tunnel Hill another horn would blow. The driver would stick his head out the door, wave and whoop it up as loud as anything.

I wasn’t sure, but I think I saw everyone in Tunnel Hill that day outside their houses and waving to anyone and everyone they saw. Even old lady Lawrence, who must have been 90, was outside on her porch waving to anyone she saw. Now, that was something: old Becky Lawrence, dressed like she always did with a black dress with white flecks, a white but yellowing apron, black shoes and her grey hair was done up in a knot in back. But she had a beautiful smile on her face that I had never seen before and waving to beat the band and twirling herself around a porch post. I was sure she would break her skinny neck and someone would have to pick her up and pack her back into her old gray unpainted house on Low Street. 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, but liked to run across her plank porch making it rattle and hide behind the poplar tree across the street and watch her come to the door, part the lace curtains and look out.

Today is 11-11-02 and it’s Armistice Day in America. The airwaves are full of patriotic messages about remembrances of our military importance.

Iremember VJ Day in America in August of 1945. I was not yet five years old. I guess it was a lot like Armistice Day (Nov. 11, 1918) after World War I. Something strange was happening in my hometown of Tunnel Hill, [linois. The Baptist and Methodist Church bells were ringing and it was not even Sunday. They kept ringing and ringing. It was eerie, and strange. Was there a contest between the Baptists and the Methodists — maybe? I remembered that some Sundays the Baptist rang their bell before the Methodist did, and being a Baptist (whatever that was) made me proud. I didn’t know the difference between the two, but knew the Baptists “dunked” theirs and the Methodists “sprinkled” theirs.

Then I heard the honking of cars, but did not see any cars. “What’s going on,” I thought. But hey, I’m not yet five. It was to be a special day for everyone in America. It was History.

My mom is actually running through our yard to meet our neighbor, Sylvia Jobe, who was also running through her yard to meet my mom. I have never seen anything like that. had never seen my mom run and Sylvia was way weigh heavier than my mom and she was bouncing along – prancing along actually. They met and joined hands and hugged each other and danced up and down, laughing and giggling, whooping it up, hollering and yelling, and also crying at the same time.

wasn’t running or jumping, or laughing or whooping it up, and I certainly wasn’t going to cry. What’s there to cry about? Why do you ery when you're laughing, for goodness sakes? What has gotten in to everyone? The church bells kept on ringing for what seemed to be forever. I wish I had counted, but there must have been more than 100 ding- dongs from each church. Even after the church bells stopped ringing a car hom was heard ere and there, and every time a car came through Tunnel Hill another horn would blow. The driver would stick his head out the door, wave and whoop it up as loud as anything.

wasn’t sure, but I think I saw everyone in Tunnel Hill that day outside their houses and waving to anyone and everyone they saw. Even old lady Lawrence, who must have been 90, was outside on her porch waving to anyone she saw. Now, that was something: old Becky Lawrence, dressed like she always did with a black dress with white flecks, a white but yellowing apron, black shoes and her grey hair was done up in a knot in back. But she had a beautiful smile on her face that I had never seen before and waving to beat the band and twirling herself around a porch post. I was sure she would break her skinny neck and someone would have to pick her up and pack her back into her old gray unpainted house on Low Street. We would probably not see her ever again. [ would miss her yelling at us kids playing in the street just outside her door. I secretly liked her, but liked to run across her plank porch making it rattle and hide behind the poplar tree across the street and watch her come to the door, part the lace curtains and look out.

I asked him how he felt about America and Americans and gave him a quick review of what I believed. He discussed America and said he had a story. A friend of his had came to America to visit him and they spent time about matters and life. He said he was invited to have a visit with a fellow professor of SIUE and took his friend along. when they arrived, the professor opened his door and greeted Anthony and said, “Did you bring that Black pig?” Anthony was shocked and said, “ Are you F——— kidding me?” and he and his friend left. I was silent. He said he would like to visit with me and gave me three business cards. I replied that I would be proud to see him soon. That ended my visit at the market and I went to McDonald’s near by for biscuits and gravy with a senior coffee. $4.50. I stopped at a real estate office and visited with a part owner I have known since 1973. I asked him to let a agent I liked to call me. What a morning. How interesting it was. I had met and talked a bit with 17 people who were kind, helpful and thankful. This story is not over. JOHN CASEY 7-29/2022

I asked him how he felt about America and Americans and gave him a quick review of what I believed. He discussed America and said he had a story.

A friend of his had came to America to visit him and they spent time about matters and life. He said he was invited to have a visit with a fellow professor of SIUE and took his friend along. when they arrived, the professor opened his door and greeted Anthony and said, “Did you bring that Black pig?”

Anthony was shocked and said, “Are you F he and his friend left. I was silent.

He said he would like to visit with me and gave me three business cards. I replied that I would be proud to see him soon.

That ended my visit at the market and I went to McDonald’s near by for biscuits and gravy with a senior coffee. $4.50. I stopped at a real estate office and visited with a part owner I have known since 1973. I asked him to let a agent I liked to call me.

kidding me?” and

What a morning. How interesting it was. I had met and talked a bit with 17 people who were kind, helpful and thankful.

This story is not over.

JOHN CASEY 7-29/2022

Everybody loves Asta, Hagar especially. It is a joy to watch them interact.

He is her Beau and is protective and jealous. She sometimes scolds him and has punished him with a swat with a PAPER SWITCH. Her voice is not harsh or threatening or sounds like true anger, but her words are generally heeded.

Asta tells amazing and entertaining stories of the dog’s exploits. Almost daily Hagar has done something memorable.

Asta & the greenery in Godfrey

Asta’s tanned face is from the sun and wind. Her eyes hint of humor and her wispy grey streaked hair moves with the slightest breeze. She wears blue denim gallowsed dungarees, a white tee-shirt and 7-inch boots. Often a colorful kerchief, flip- wound, is knotted around her neck. She is unmistakably ‘in charge’ of her blooming (pun intended) nursery named the greenery located on West Delmar in Godfrey.

Rustic wooden signs painted and lettered hint of Astas artistic talent. We sell Beauty; Park Here; Free Mulch; Herbs; Trees, and Hosta’s are painted on some of the signs. The greenery has more hostas than you can imagine and all have creative names.

A mulch pile (free for anyone) is outside the gate; sacks of top soil are lined up near the parking area, a sugar cane fence is on the west edge of the 2 acre parcel and a tomato garden is in the rear. A large Quonset hut is used for her sales counter and office and also for new plants and flowers. Bull frogs are in the lily pad ponds, just outside the hut.

Asta welcomes customers to sit a spell on a cushioned wood bench near her office. She solicits thoughts and opinions of friends and customers and will listen attentively. Conversations end with a sense that it will continue.

Success, she believes, is measured by the endeavors of committed people who love what they do for others. The earth is better off by having someone like Asta taking care of plants that are important to people.

264

Asta & the greenery in Godfrey, IL

Asta’s tanned face is from the sun and wind. Her eyes hint of humor and her wispy grey streaked hair moves with the slightest breeze. She wears blue denim gallowsed dungarees, a white tee-shirt and 7-inch boots. Often a colorful kerchief, flip- wound, is knotted around her neck. She is unmistakably ‘in charge’ of her blooming (pun intended) nursery named the greenery located on West Delmar in Godfrey.

Rustic wooden signs painted and lettered hint of Astas artistic talent. We sell Beauty; Park Here; Free Mulch; Herbs; Trees, and Hosta’s are painted on some of the signs. The greenery has more hostas than you can imagine and all have creative names.

A mulch pile (free for anyone) is outside the gate; sacks of top soil are lined up near the parking area, a cane fence is on the west edge of the 2 acre parcel and a tomato garden is in the rear. A large Quonset hut is used for her sales counter and office and also for new plants and flowers. Bull frogs are in the lily pad ponds, just outside the hut.

Asta welcomes customers to sit a spell on a cushioned wood bench near her office. She solicits thoughts and opinions of friends and customers and will listen attentively. Conversations end with a sense that they will continue in the future.

Success, she believes, is measured by the endeavors of committed people who love what they do for others. The earth is better off by having someone like Asta taking care of plants that are important to people.

268 words

I seek stories of kind people and the things they do to make others glad to know them and the contributions they make for the good of the planet. I have written vignettes and proudly give them to the people I write about.

Asta Sudakalas is one of the kind people I have met and wrote about. She owns and single-handily runs the greenery nursery on Delmar St. in Godfrey. Her fame is sealed by her commitment to raising plants and providing them for her friends, clients, and customers. It’s also because she is such a character. Halloween and Christmas is a time when her creativeness and mischievous nature erupts.

Asta emigrated from middle Europe to the United States in 1948 with her mother and father and two brothers. She didn’t speak English, but quickly learned it and became an outstanding student. She graduated from the University of Illinois with an Art Degree. Later, she returned to Univ of IL and obtained a degree in Agronomy. She followed her love of nature and became the owner and operator of a marvelous little plant nursery in Godfrey, IL. Her artistry contributes to the success of her nursery. Asta is Old World Savvy and extraordinarily generous and kind to people. She is knowledgeable about “things” that grow.

She says her nursery is a work place. It is. She wears a uniform to work: a pair of denim bib overalls, a white shirt, and boots. She has two working pickup trucks, one red, and the other black. A small tractor is also used to handling chores at the nursery, including mixing potting soil in a unique pull behind rolling container that mixes soil and nutrients just perfect for growing plants.

A Quonset hut green house for baby and new plants has a stand-up counter and office. A small pool just outside the green house contains a dozen plus gold fish, frogs, and aquatic plants. There is a standup cooler with soft drinks, free to anyone who stops by for a visit. A cane break on one side of the nursery acts as a fence and provides garden poles for customers.

Asta lives in a custom and timeless chalet style house on the nursery grounds. It blends into the natural setting of the land. It is designed by her and fits her style both inside and out. She has a wood framed outdoor shower, decorated, of course, with art and plants. There a lighted wash basin and a small refrigerator on the counter.

She does not use a computer or digital devices to help her with anything, yet her business hums along nicely. She answers her own phone before the third ring. She has a great sense of humor, and laughs loudly often.

Asta is good to the earth, an artist, a culinary genius, and just about the most unique person anyone will ever meet.

Thanks,

John Casey 435 '4 Bluff St. Alton, IL 62002 618-670-5646

jrcasey134@gmail.com (best way to contact me) 532

The original page will appear here.

When we returned to the Farmer’s market where his wife and son were he was smiling. He wanted photos and several were shot. He said he was going to Texas and would call me and he and his wife would like to visit with me again when he returns from Texas. He’s going back to Ghana for a visit, at the end of the year. After a rest and a snack I went outside to the porch and saw Jean with a broom sweeping debris near her car parked on Bluff. She intentionally swept it into the edge of the sidewalk and not picked up. Sweeping dirt and grime into the grass will lead to more grime when it rains. And. intentionally left debris piles along the sidewalk and cross walk. Grass clumps and growing grass between the bricks were not touched. In the past I had groomed the sidewalk, weeded the brick sidewalk and picked up dirt and debris as well as edged the grass sidewalk. She had swept one side of the sidewalk and one side of the stairs. Brush marks were still there. I find that her regular haughty nature, deliberately leaving dirt and debris. She wants me to show anger. By ignoring and not talking to her I know I averted a loud outbreak of yelling from her. I’m getting under her skin. She is telling someone or speaking negative.

When we returned to the Farmer’s market where his wife and son were he was smiling. He wanted photos and several were shot. He said he was going to Texas and would call me and he and his wife would like to visit with me again when he returns from Texas. He’s going back to Ghana for a visit, at the end of the year.

After a rest and a snack I went outside to the porch and saw Jean with a broom sweeping debris near her car parked on Bluff. She intentionally swept it into the edge of the sidewalk and not picked up. Sweeping dirt and grime into the grass will lead to more grime when it rains. And. intentionally left debris piles along the sidewalk and cross walk. Grass clumps and growing grass between the bricks were not touched. In the past I had groomed the sidewalk, weeded the brick sidewalk and picked up dirt and debris as well as edged the grass sidewalk. She had swept one side of the sidewalk and one side of the stairs. Brush marks were still there. I find that her regular haughty nature, deliberately Leaving dirt and debris. She wants me to show anger. By ignoring and not talking to her I know I averted a loud outbreak of yelling from her.

I’m getting under her skin. She is telling someone or speaking negative.

WE ARRIVED AT THE PARK BEFORE THE GAME W AS TO ST ART AND HAD AN OPPORTUNITY TO LOOK OVER THE ST ADIUM AND MARVEL AT THE SIZE OF IT. IT WOULD HOLD ABOUT 28,000 FANS. THE PITCHERS WERE ANNOUNCED; W ARREN SPAHN, A LEFT HANDER, AND MA YBE THE BEST PITCHER IN THE MAJOR LEAGUES ST ARTING FOR THE MILW AUKEE BRAVES AND SAM JONES, NEWLY ACQUIRED RIGHT HANDER FROM THE CHICAGO CUBS, WOULD BE PITCHING FOR THE CARDINALS. SAM HAD TWO NIC NAMES, “SAD SAM JONES” and “T ooth pick Sam” . The Cardinals scored the only run of the game in the 7th inning. Sam shut out the strong Milwaukee team. A light rain had started but did not stop the game, and it finished in about two hours and 20 minutes. Our team scurried with other fans to get to their cars or busses. When we reached our bus I asked Mr . Kerley if I could stay out and try to get an autography of a Cardinal player . He said Ok, but we won’t wait long. I had a pencil and a score card and found shelter under the roof at the door the players on both teams used. A few Braves came out and hurried to their rides and so did a few Cardinal players. Then out came Stan Musial. Type to enter text

Henkhaus/B-29 — A Bomb Notes — random

B-29 Superfortress — made by Boeing. 4 HP 2200 Wright engines 358 max speed; cruising 224; max weight Capacity: 124,000 lbs Incendiary bomb load: 20,000. Crew of 12. Altitude — 31,000 – +

An Atom was split for the first time in 1933. called Fission. Splitting the incredibly small atom resulted in an enormous amount of energy for its size. From this discovery scientists knew that a bomb of unknown strength could be made. The key in developing the bomb was uranium — specifically, U235 uranium. The US and Canada had uranium, Briton had a little and the USSR did not have any. The Germans had access to uranium as they controlled most of Europe. There would be a race to make the first bomb.

Oppenheimer, a brilliant scientist/physics was chosen to head the team to search for ways to build the bomb. The Manhattan Project was extensive with headquarters in Los Alamos, New Mexico. The US and England joined together to work on the project.

The first and only test of the A-Bomb (The Gadget) was in May 1945 (14— 16 ?). It was successful and equaled 20,000 tons of TNT and could be heard over 150 miles (El Paso, TX) The decision was made by the new president, Harry Truman, to drop the bombs as soon as they were available which would be in late July or early August.

On August 6, 1945, a B-29 named The Enola Gay, for the mother of the pilot, Paul Tibbets, (Who went to Western Military Academy in Alton), was loaded with the first operational A-Bomb, a 9,000 Ib torpedo shaped bomb. The plane took off from Tinian, an island in the South Pacific, with a crew of 11 plus Tibbets. It had extra fuel and an estimated weight of 134,000 Ibs and took almost the entire 1.2 mile runway to lift off.

The bomb (named, LITTLE BOY) was armed in flight by the bombardier/detonator 30 minutes from the target and when the plane was in eye-sight of the target Tibbets turned over the control of the plane to the bombardier. At 31,000 +- feet the bomb was released over Hiroshima and dropped to 1900 feet before it was detonated directly over the city. The pilot banked the plane to avoid the aftershock and was 7 miles from the blast; still it rocked the plane and did some minor damage to it. Tibetts turned back to the city for reconnance and he and his crew saw the devastating effects of the bomb. The navigator wrote in his diary, “what have we done?” The date was August 6, 1945, two months after Joe Henkhaus wrote a letter to his 21 year old brother and his wife, Nina, who lived in Bethalto, IL.

On August 9, the second bomb, named FAT MAN, was dropped on Nagasaki, Japan. 40,000 were immediately killed. An estimated 250,000 people died as a result of the two bombs. 20,000 of them were soldiers.

The war ended with Japan on August 15, 1945. The treaty was signed on the Missouri battleship. Truman and Stalin (but not Churchill) was on board the ship.

The original page will appear here.

BACON CANDY. Thick BACON, with pecans or walnuts on top and coated with caramel or chocolate One woman tried it and said it should be named HEAVENLY BACON! Are you ready for a BACON Poem? I need more help from Elvis: MUSIC: It’s now or never Do Poem End with — Elvis’s song – MY WAY

BE CRISPY EVERYBODY!!! I AM LEAVING THE BUILDING!

BACON and eggs in the morning will get your metabolism working. If you use thin BACON you’ll stay thin. Take your chances with thick BACON.

Take a look at what I brought

Cereal with BACON

*BACON brownies

*Peanuts and BACON

BACON BITS & ice cream

Mac & Cheese and BACON

*BACON martini — (I’ll have one now) *Popcorn and BACON

*BACON & M and M’s

BACON beer

BACON covered hard boiled eggs That’s what I call (The heart attack snack) BACON scented candles & BACON soap * BACON, Bananas, and Peanut Butter

BACON has become the in food. Why not? It has fat, salt, and love!

BACON started as meat strips. (It still is) It was invented in 1350. Or was that Francis Bacon? No, No, No, Francis was born in the 15" century. He died in the 16" century. He contracted Pneumonia, after being in the cold experimenting with freezing meat — obviously BACON.

There’s filets wrapped in BACON

Burgers and BACON; BACON crumbles on salads, potatoes, Beans, asparagus,

Some say, BACON would make flip- flops taste good.

They were about 10 cents each. I am sure that I was the only member of my baseball team that had and used curved needles, but that didn’t matter to me. Thad the best gloves I could buy and now they would last longer because of those curved needles.

My mom and big sister, Edith, had helped me get started sewing buttons on shirts and patching holes in my socks. The toes I could de OK, but not the heels. The heels would always come out looking bad and with the sewing ridge making contact with my shoe and irritating my heel. It was to be years later when holes in the knees of jeans would be popular and that’s too bad. I had sewn lots of pretty neat patches, not all matching, on my jeans.

I’m sure my mom was proud of me for taking care of my clothes and my ball gloves, but without those curved needles my fielding errors would have surely gone up.

John Casey 10-30-2001

us at least – we needed a batter. He agreed and came to our bench, picked up a bat, rolled up his sleeves and stepped into the batter’s box. On the first pitch, Dad hit a line drive over the second baseman’s head into right field. He hopped, skipped and loped to first base. He grinned and motioned someone to run for him and a player did. Dad was a hit for his hit. The crowd, and both teams cheered and applauded him. He was proud.

I’ve been telling stories about my dad for more that fifty years. He was our leader, our teacher, and guardian.

I Stumbled upon the Curved Needles when I took some Shoes to the Shoe repair Shop. Of Course, they were used for Shoes and boots; but they sure Looked Like they would work on my baseball glove. I was bashful, but I really needed a Curved needle and finally asked The man behind The Counter if I Could See one up Close. He Conversated and brought one out for my Examination. The eye of the needle was bigger than any needle eye I had Ever Seen. It Could handle heavy Cord and had to sew heavy Leather, Sole to upper.

It would work for me and I offered to buy one, Not Knowing the Cost. If I had a dollar I would have Paid it. He gave one to me, said it was free and I dashed out of the shop hardly able to Contain myself with all the [mending] I would do.

My three gloves, The Harvey Keune model [margin: "5 finger"] and the Gil Hodges first baseman's Claw would Get new Lacing and The holes in The fingers and back strap would be Carefully sewn. The Curved needle used Worked Just half. I didn't hurry and Learned how to use The needle and Thimble to Work The needle in and out of The Leather, mending and Strengthening The gloves.

I managed to relace baseballs Where the seams Were ripped. I fixed my golf Spikes.

Basement, lawn sidewalk, outdoors When my health was good I enjoyed being outdoors and working in the yard and garden. I bought lawnmowers, trimmers, pruners, and tools. I started a small garden behind the garage and produced several vegetables; tomatoes, onions, radishes, cucumbers, squash, and peppers. I shared them with neighbors. The landlord didn’t like the garden and removed all of the dirt and put gravel on the area. I picked up sticks or clumps of grass before mowing. I edged the path way and added stones, pavers, bricks and small stones to the winding path to the sidewalk. I kept the sidewalk clean and removed debris on the drain next to the brick paved road – along Blu! and Mamie Street. I fertilized the lawn and sowed blue grass and added fertilizer and removed dandelions, and weeds. I trimmed the hedge in front and the large shrub trees along the east side of the house. I trimmed vines and overhanging limbs on the large rotting maple tree in front. I scrubbed, scraped and painted the porch floor upstairs. Vines that clung to the south and rear side of the garage were removed and I patched cracks in the driveway for easier snow removal. I kept the garage swept and clean. I planted evergreen bushes and kept them pruned. Flowers and grasses were planted along the South edge of the driveway. Over the years I have lived here I parked my vehicles, I had five of them; a Camry, Oldsmobile, Ford truck, Mercury Cougar and my small BMW, I parked them on Mamie and sometimes in the garage. My slot was on the south part of the garage. I swept the basement floor and bagged leaves and dirt. The basement gets an A. In the fall I raked leaves and put them into leaf bags I planted winter cabbage for decoration. Halloween decorations were in good taste. I have not treated costumed kids and adults for several years. I plan to this year. . Both HER and I have a washer and dryer in the basement. The landlord has stored numerous items in the basement. The list is a close estimate. The basement is large and very useful for the landlord. Two furnaces are in the basement. The oldest one serves

Basement, lawn sidewalk, outdoors

When my health was good | enjoyed being outdoors and working in the yard and garden. | bought lawnmowers, trimmers, pruners, and tools. | started a small garden behind the garage and produced several vegetables; tomatoes, onions, radishes, cucumbers, squash, and peppers. | shared them with neighbors. The landlord didn’t like the garden and removed all of the dirt and put gravel on the area.

| picked up sticks or clumps of grass before mowing. | edged the path way and added stones, pavers, bricks and small stones to the winding path to the sidewalk. | kept the sidewalk clean and removed debris on the drain next to the brick paved road – along Bluff and Mamie Street. | fertilized the lawn and sowed blue grass and added fertilizer and removed dandelions, and weeds.

| trimmed the hedge in front and the large shrub trees along the east side of the house. | trimmed vines and overhanging limbs on the large rotting maple tree in front. | scrubbed, scraped and

painted the porch floor upstairs.

Vines that clung to the south and rear side of the garage were removed and | patched cracks in the driveway for easier snow removal. | kept the garage swept and clean. | planted evergreen bushes and kept them pruned. Flowers and grasses were planted along the South edge of the driveway.

Over the years | have lived here | parked my vehicles, | had five of them; a Camry, Oldsmobile, Ford truck, Mercury Cougar and my small BMW, | parked them on Mamie and sometimes in the garage. My slot was on the south part of the garage. | swept the basement floor and bagged leaves and dirt. The basement gets an A.

In the fall | raked leaves and put them into leaf bags | planted winter cabbage for decoration. Halloween decorations were in good taste. | have not treated costumed kids and adults for several years. | plan to this year.

. Both HER and | have a washer and dryer in the basement. The landlord has stored numerous items in the basement. The

list is a close estimate. The basement is large and very useful for the landlord. Two furnaces are in the basement. The oldest one serves

Check out cushion for swing – need a cover. Purge. Change or buy new pillows & cases – I've done other gear. I've moved my bed so I can see sunrises (poets writing) and moons from windows. I feel safe where I see a full moon. My heart monitor – 24 hr a day, all of my prescriptions, and other pills are in the bedroom. I struggle to sleep soundly – a few (light) pills help. Age, I guess.

THE TELEGRAPH:

Sunday, January 13, 2013 + Page AS

Bertram and the dragon

If we take time to write about ourselves others can have a deeper under- standing of us. With no books, no journals, no memoirs, our lives will become faint sketches. So, I will write as proof that I have lived; what drove me; what hurt me; what I feared; and what I enjoyed. Sometimes my memories of a particular past required me to make revisions as to the exact- ly, and provided me free- dom to let my stories just come tumbling out. This is one of them.

eing in love? I

wasn’t sure. I

knew I loved my

mother and dad. I liked my brothers and sisters most of the time, after all I had been hang- ing out with them all of my life. I wondered if they loved me, and if so, why did they make my life so miserable.

All of my third-grade classmates; Ann, Fern, Mabel, Sammy, Ronnie, Donnie, Alice, Mary, Beverly, Frances, and I were sitting on a wood bench in the one-room country schoolhouse in Tunnel Hill, Ill. Each of us had a book about Bertram and The Dragon

Ronnie sat on my right and Frances was on my left. I held Ronnie in low regard, but I liked sitting next to Frances. She was almost too pretty to look at. We were about the same size and when we sat on the bench our feet did not touch the floor She wore a red checked dress with a white collar and her shiny black shoes almost touched my sneak- ers. She had sparkling blue eyes and her short auburn hair was combed into a bang. She looked at me. I could barely stand

Fohn CASEY

GUEST COLUMNIST

Our teacher, Mrs Beulah, waited until we sat down before she got up from her chair and walked in front of us. She was 30ish, a big woman; tall and strong. She wore a navy blue dress but- toned right up to its white collar. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a bun and fastened with a black clasp. She peered at us over her dark-rimmed moon-shaped _ glasses before returning to her chair.

The teacher started our lesson with a roll call even though she knew who was there, and when it ended, she said, “Let’s get right into our lesson; please turn to the story about Bertram and the Dragon.”

Bertram was an adventuresome boy. I had read the book several times, but at that moment I wasn’t interest- ed in Bertram or the dragon. I was interested in Frances. I was oblivi- ous to anything going on around me. I moved my left foot and touched her right one and thought lightning had zapped me.

Frances lived on a

farm near Tunnel Hill. I hadn’t seen her since school let out in May, but Thad not forgotten that at the school’s Valentine Day party she had given me a valentine, my first one, that said, “Be Mine, Valentine”.

the moment as I returned M217 9. 74/0,

Yep, I was in love. My first time. Up until then, outside of working in the garden, yard, and doing other chores, I spent time with my siblings and friends playing ball, fish- ing, hunting and just goofing off. I never paid any attention to girls. Now I was thinking of getting married. I won- dered how many kids we would have. I expected we would live with our parents until we were say, 13 or 14. She, of course, would live on her parents’ farm and I

would live with my fami-

ly in town

Ronnie’s punches to my ribs got my attention. Frances slid inches away. I turned and glared at Ronnie and promised myself that I would clob- ber him when the school day ended. Then I heard Mrs. Beulah say, «Johnny, please read the next page.” What page? What story?

Frances reached over and flipped pages of my book to the middle of the story. The words were blurry, but I squeaked them out. When class ended I walked back to my desk with my head down. I didn’t feel in love anymore.

As I settled into my seat, I heard, “pssstt,” and Fern, who sat one row over, handed me a piece of paper. It was from Mabel. She had written, “Sit next to me tomorrow.” I decided right then and there that love had returned to my heart. Perhaps Mabel and I would get married, maybe even by Christmas. Perhaps we would sing “Silent Night” at the school’s Christmas pageant. We really did sing it toa surprised and apprecia- tive audience

Soon atter Unristmas, Mabel was adopted and moved to St. Louis. Her name was changed to Vicki Falls. I never saw her again.

Notes: Mabel Brooks was 4 or 5 when her mom died and her hard- drinking, seldom employed father, over time, consented to letting her be adopted by a won- derful couple who had heard about Mabel through relatives.

John Casey of Alton is curious consistently and loves reading, writing and adventures. He is an agent with Coldwell Banker Commercial Brown Realtors in Edwarasville.

TBE TELEGRAPH

Sunday, January 13, 2018

¢ Page AS

Bertram and the dragon

If we take time to write about ourselves others can have a deeper under- standing of us. With no books, no journals, no memoirs, our lives will become faint sketches. So, I will write as proof that I have lived; what drove me; what hurt me; what I feared; and what I enjoyed. Sometimes my memories of a particular past required me to make revisions as to the exact- ly, and provided me free- dom to let my stories just come tumbling out. This is one of them.

eing in love? I

wasn’t sure. I

knew I loved my

mother and dad. I liked my brothers and sisters most of the time, after all I had been hang- ing out with them all of my life. I wondered if they loved me,. and if so, why did they make my life so miserable.

All of my third-grade classmates; Ann, Fern, Mabel, Sammy, Ronnie, Donnie, Alice, Mary, Beverly, Frances, and I-* were sitting on a wood bench in the one-room country schoolhouse in Tunnel Hill, Ill. Each of us had a book about Bertram and The Dragon

Ronnie sat on my right and Frances was on my left. I held Ronnie in low regard, but I liked sitting next to Frances. She was almost too pretty to look at. We were about the same size and when we sat on the bench our feet did not touch the floor. She wore a red checked dress with a white collar and her shiny black shoes almost touched my sneak- ers. She had sparkling blue eyes and her short auburn hair was combed into a bang. She looked at me. I could barely stand the moment as I returned

John CASEY

GUEST COLUMNIST

Our teacher, Mrs. Beulah, waited until we sat down before she got up from her chair and walked in front of us. She was 30ish, a big woman; tall and strong. She wore a navy blue dress but- toned right up to its white collar. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a bun and fastened with a black clasp. She peered at us over her dark-rimmed moon-shaped glasses before returning to her chair.

The teacher started our lesson with a roll call even though she knew who was there, and when it ended, she said, “Let’s get right into our lesson; please turn to the story about Bertram and the Dragon.”

Bertram was an adventuresome boy. I had read the book several times, but at that moment I wasn’t interest- ed in Bertram or the dragon. I was interested in Frances. I was oblivi- ous to anything going on around me. ] moved my jeft foot and touched her right one and thought lightning had zapped me.

Frances lived on a

farm near Tunnel Hill. I hadn’t seen her since school let out in May, but Thad not forgotten that at the school’s Valentine Day party she had given me a valentine, my first one, that said, “Be Mine, Valentine”.

Yep, I was in love. My first time. Up until. then, outside of working in the garden, yard, and doing other chores, I spent time with my siblings and friends playing ball, fish- ing, hunting and just goofing off. I never paid any attention to girls. Now I was thinking of getting married. I won- dered how many kids we would have. I expected we would live with our parents until we were say, 13 or 14. She, of course, would live on her parents’ farm and I

would live with my fami- ly in town.

Ronnie’s punches to my ribs got my attention. Frances slid inches away. I turned and glared at Ronnie, and promised myself that I would clob- ber him when the school day ended. Then I heard Mrs Beulah say, «Johnny, please read the next page.” What page? What story?

Frances reached over and flipped pages of my book to the middle of the story. The words were blurry, but I squeaked them out. When class ended I walked back to my desk with my head down. I didn’t feel in love anymore.

As I settled into my seat, I heard, “pssstt,” and Fern, who sat one row over, handed me a piece of paper, It was from Mabel. She had written, “Sit next to me tomorrow.” I decided right then and there that Jove had returned to my heart. Perhaps Mabel and I would get married, maybe even by Christmas. Perhaps we would sing “Silent Night”

\ at the school’s

Christmas pageant. We

really did sing it toa

surprised and apprecia- tive audience

Soon atter Cnristmas, Mabel was adopted and moved to St. Louis. Her mame was changed to Vicki Falls. I never saw her again.

Notes: Mabel Brooks

was 4 or 5 when her mom died and her hard- drinking, seldom employed father, over time, consented to letting her be adopted by a won- derful couple who had heard about Mabel through relatives. John Casey of Aiton is curious consistently and loves reading, writing and adventures. He is an agent with Coldwell Banker Commercial Brown Realtors in Edwardsville

BERTRAM AND THE DRAGON

Being in love? I wasn’t sure. I knew I loved my mother, maybe my dad, and perhaps my older sister. I liked my three older brothers most of the time and I thought my little sister and brother were cute, plus funny. My two and a half year old and two and a half foot tall baby sister was a red headed doll, of course, I loved her. Maybe I loved all of them after all I had been hanging out with most of them all of my life, except for my younger siblings. I knew them well. I wondered if they loved me. Really! Mom said they did but sometimes I wondered, and if they did why did they make my life so miserable almost daily? I accepted the fact that my mom loved me but didn’t ask any of the others if they loved me, I couldn’t take the expected answers.

I was now perched on a long pew like pine bench in front of the teachers desk where she was sitting. I, along with my entire class was sitting together waiting for our reading lesson. We all attended a one-room country school located in a small village in deep Southern Illinois. We were all in the third grade. Ann (not yet named Boots), Fern, Mabel, Sammy, Ronnie, Donnie, Mary Alice, Mary, Beverly, Frances, and myself had marched to the front of the one room school house and sat down on the bench. Each of us carried a book and a small pad of paper and a just sharpened pencil with number 2 lead. Mrs. Beulah waited until all of had settled down before getting up from her chair and walked in front of us. She was a big woman, tall and strong looking, not bulky. She had on a navy blue dress that came to just below her knees. It had short sleeves and was buttoned right up to its white collar. Her hair was dark brown pulled back into a bun fastened with a big black clasp. She had on three-quarter moon shaped glasses with dark rims. Her shoes were black with short block heels. Her stockings were made of cotton and were dust colored. She had on a tint of red lipstick. She peered over her glasses at us and returned to her chair.

She started the lesson with a roll call. I thought it was odd that she always started the lesson with a roll call just after she had walked in front of us and knew us to be there even before she started the call. Surely she knew everyone’s voice; I did and can still hear them clearly. “Mabel Brooks.” Mrs. Beulah started. “Present” Mabel replied. “John Casey,” “Here,” I said. “Ronald Hileman,” “Yes,” he said. “Fern Hill.” Fern said, “present.” “Sammy Choate,” “Here,” Sammy replied. “Mary Alice Casey,” “I’m here” my cousin answered. “Donnie Dalton.” “Yep,” he said. “Frances Vinson,” Frances said, “I’m here.” “Ann Conroy.” “Present.” “Beverly James,” “Here” Bev said. “Mary Choate.” Mrs. Buelah repeated, “Mary Choate.” Mary caught on and answered, “yes.” “Good, let’s get right into our lesson. Turn to the story we are going to read today.” We all turned to a story about Bertram and The Dragon.

I was sitting near the middle of the group right next to Ronnie who was on my right with Frances on my left. I refused to even touch Ronnie and held him in low regard and did not like the way he wore his shirt unbuttoned with his dingy tee shirt showing. But, I did like sitting next to Frances. I scooted over an inch or two and she didn’t scoot away. She was almost too pretty to look at. We were about the same size and our feet did not touch the wooden floor. She wore a crisp red checked dress with a tiny white collar and her shiny black shoes almost touched my high top blue sneakers. She had long eyelashes and her eyes were sparkling blue. Her hair was short, not down to her shoulders, and was combed up in front. She smelled like soap, not like Ronnie smelled on my right. She looked over at me and I barely could stand the quick moment, but I glanced at her too. She smiled and her eyes lit up. I’m glad she could not read my mind.

I was thinking of getting married.

Bertram was an adventuresome boy. I had read the book several times and had also remembered it from the many times it was read aloud at home by my older sister, Edie. She had read it to me and to my younger sister, Liz and little brother, Terry, and it was surely to be read to my baby sister, Mary Ellen, when the time came. Either Liz or I would take up the reading activity at home. I wasn’t particularly interested in Bertram or the dragon. I knew the story. I was more interested in Frances,

Frances lived on a farm just outside of the tiny village where I lived. She had two older brothers, Junior and Ronald. Paul was her little brother. I only got to see Frances when school started and by the third grade I was anxious to see her again. I had not forgotten that at Valentine’s day she had given me a big valentine, my first one, that said, “Be Mine, Valentine.”

If we take time to write about ourselves others can have a deeper understanding of us. With no books, no journals, no memoirs, our lives will become faint sketches. So, I will write as proof that I have lived; what drove me; what hurt me; what I feared; and what I enjoyed. Sometimes my memories of a particular past required me to make revisions as to the exactly, and provided me freedom to let my stories just come tumbling out. This is one of them.

BERTRAM AND THE DRAGON

Being in love? I wasn’t sure. I knew I loved my mother and dad. I liked my brothers and sisters most of the time, after all I had been hanging out with them all of my life. I wondered if they loved me, and if so, why did they make my life so miserable.

All of my 3'4 grade classmates; Ann, Fern, Mabel, Sammy, Ronnie, Donnie, Alice, Mary, Beverly, Frances, and I were sitting on a wood bench in the one-room country schoolhouse in Tunnel Hill, IL. Each of us had a book about Bertram and The Dragon.

Ronnie sat on my right and Frances was on my left. I held Ronnie in low regard, but I liked sitting next to Frances. She was almost too pretty to look at. We were about the same size and when we sat on the bench our feet did not touch the floor. She wore a red checked dress with a white collar and her shiny black shoes almost touched my sneakers. She had sparkling blue eyes and her short auburn hair was combed into a bang. She looked at me. I could barely stand the moment as I returned her glance.

Our teacher, Mrs. Beulah, waited until we sat down before she got up from her chair and walked in front of us. She was 30ish, a big woman; tall and strong. She wore a navy blue dress buttoned right up to its white collar. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a bun and fastened with a black clasp. She peered at us over her dark rimmed moon shaped glasses before returning to her chair.

The teacher started our lesson with a roll call even though she knew who was there, and when it ended, she said, “Let’s get right into our lesson; please turn to the story about Bertram and the Dragon”.

Bertram was an adventuresome boy. I had read the book several times, but at that moment I wasn’t interested in Bertram or the dragon.

I was interested in Frances. I was oblivious to anything going on around me. I moved my left foot and touched her right one and thought lightning had zapped me.

Frances lived on a farm near Tunnel Hill. I hadn’t seen her since school let out in May, but I had not forgotten that at the school’s Valentine Day party she had given me a valentine, my first one, that said, “Be Mine, Valentine’.

Yep, I was in love. My first time. Up until then, outside of working in the garden, yard, and doing other chores, I spent time with my

PC aa Mr. Bill Ruppert’s chickens are laying a good income for him

and he is obviously enjoying it too. I thought of you when I read it. You have a perfect place to duplicate a similar venture. You are a chick, have a joy of doing things, and are a long-time home owner in a easy to find place.

The end of 2014 was welcomed and signaled a change and new directions. I’ve scraped most projects and activities. Health is a priority. Golf is important and I will practice carefully, and play with enjoyment of the game and relationships with players.

The training and equipment for digital work is paying off with con- fidence and efficiency—it will continue.

I will become a good cook. Planning, organ. ZL ing: and collecting the right tools, will help.

Asta is helping me. She believes it will be good for my Aealth, plus, add more time for hobbies, interests, and relation ships. She said, “Scrap the old by doing something for yourself that makes a positive difference.” ‘My apartment is mostly as it will be. I don’t need to make many changes. That will practically eliminante the searches for a particular item. I will patch up strained relationships with family. It will not consume me. My family likes to travel They go everywhere and I have planned trips too. My son is getting involved more, sensing that I need it, and giving me help in several ways. He’s a priority. I plan to see him a few times this year. Writing will be free flowing and light. Fiction is an interest. Fun, and not anything serious. Designing and writing greeting cards is a potential hobby. I have a theme picked out The long-ago poems (will you be my friend) was a study then; the quitting vignette is current.

I have adopted a TO-BE attitude. Thanks for givng me that.

Blue As He Can Be He is not a fancy writer. He is straight forward and an explorer of the human heart. He is an effortless story teller; a writer of prose that’s fiercely pungent in detail yet poetic in an unstructured way. His subjects are as varied as his interests – and they are numerous. Suddenly and assailed by memory, his stories tumble out, rolling and alive with the smell of sweat hardened harness of a mule, yet scattered with gentle kindness, understanding and compassion. He is a repository of knowledge of where he grew up and the people who lived there. His was the fifth child (of eight) and fourth boy of a blue collar father and rural raised mother. When his stories are read, the depth of feeling is impressive. They can be funny and also stark and passionate. His characters are not always lovable, but his attractions of them provide insight into relationships with them. Some are iron strong, others are willow weak. His stories have a way of just happening. Most of his stories are set in the Illinois countryside, amid a rough hewn population. He realized that sometimes in life you go through doors that open only one way. When you go through them and the door closes, there is no way back. He captured some of those moments both before the door opened and after it closed. His name is John Casey

Blue As He Can Be

He is not a fancy writer. He is straight forward and an explorer of the human heart. He is an effortless story teller; a writer of prose that’s fiercely pungent in detail yet poetic in an unstructured way.

His subjects are as varied as his interests – and they are numerous. Suddenly and assailed by memory, his stories tumble out, rolling and alive with the smell of sweat hardened harness of a mule, yet scattered with gentle kindness, understanding and compassion.

He is a repository of knowledge of where he grew up and the people who lived there. His was the fifth child (of eight) and fourth boy of a blue collar father and rural raised mother.

When his stories are read, the depth of feeling is impressive. They can be funny and also stark and passionate. His characters are not always lovable, but his attractions of them provide insight into relationships with them. Some are iron strong, others are willow weak. His stories have a way of just happening. Most of his stories are set in the Illinois countryside, amid a rough hewn population.

He realized that sometimes in life you go through doors that open only one way. When you go through them and the door closes, there is no way back. He captured some of those moments both before the door opened and after it closed.

His name is John Casey

~“BLUE AS HE CAN BE

He’s not a fancy writer, or stylistic. He’s straightforward and an explorer of the human heart. He is an effortless storyteller, a writer of prose yet poetic in a most welcomed unstructured way. His subjects are as varied as his interests and they are numerous. Suddenly and assailed by memory his stories tumbled out. They are scattered with gentle kindness and understanding compassion. They way life looked and felt back then can be looked at and felt again through deep affiliation with a world no one is living anymore.

Born in 1949 he was the fifth child (of 8) and 4" son of his blue-collar father and rural raised mother. He dabbled at writing early. When his stories are read the depth of feeling is impressive, his memory amazing. His stories are set in or near the Southern Ilinois countryside amid a rough hewn population where men and women alike reach full boil and suddenly let rip.

Always, his stories are laced with emotions only experience could produce. He realized that sometimes in life you go through doors that open only one way. When you go through them and the door closes there is no way to go back. He captured some of those moments both before and after the door closes. Readers can glimpse his vivid and varied existence and lets you know him as a boy, a youth, and a man.

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He’s not a fancy writer, or stylistic. He’s straightforward and an explorer of the human heart. An effortless storyteller, a writer of prose that’s fiercely pungent in detail, yet poetic in a most welcome unstructured sense.

His subjects are as varied as his interests- and they are numerous. Some are iron strong, others willow weak. Suddenly and assailed by memory, the stories tumble out, rolling and alive with the smell and feel of sweat-hardened harness of a mule, yet scattered with gentle kindness and understanding compassion.

It came to him that he was a repository of knowledge that was being lost, knowledge that no one wanted anymore. The way life looked and felt back then can be looked at and felt again through deep affiliation with a world no one is living anymore. It’s just what he did do, and he did it perfectly — to him.

He was born in 1940 and was the 5" child and4™ son, of his blue-collar father and rural raised mother. He found his own means to keep himself afloat and dabbled at writing early.

When the stories of his collection are read, the depth of feeling is impressive. They can be funny, violent, romantic and stark, yet they’re always compassionate. He had baffling ways of romance, but was slow to become aware of them. Some of his characters are not lovable, but his attractions for them provide insight into his relationships with them. He was never at ease with liquor and the vices that may have accompanied his experiences. His stories have a way of just sort of happening a little or more at a time.

His stories are set in or near the Illinois countryside, amid a rough-hewn population where men and women alike reach full boil and suddenly let rip. He struggled with self-control and his writings let you know he always wanted to let rip too.

Some of his characters would be recognizable in most parts of the world. Some are powerless in the face of changing ways; others are part of a shifting culture not based on any familiar social order.

Always, his stories are laced with emotions only experience could produce. He realized that sometimes in life you go through doors that that opens only one way. When you go through them and the door closes, there is no way to go back. Thankgoodness he captured some of those moments both before and after the door closes so that we can glimpse a vivid and varied, existence.

BOOKS Read a few books or a lot. Read different kinds of books, especially cook books.

WALK Why? I’m just kidding. Walk, trot, lope, run, cater, or skip – whatever. And you can wear nifty outfits if you want.

Cliques Join one if you can, but if you can’t, to hell with them. Ifa clique has a leader it’s not a clique, it’s a clan. I don’t like cliques unless I belong to one.

NEW AND IMPROVED Check out the new and improved product with the old one. New and improved is sneaky. PRACTICALJOKES Practical jokes are all about revenge. That explains it. Somebody gets pissed sooner or later, and then watch out.

CLIMBING Climbing is fun but it sure is tiring. Level is better and slightly down hill is down right fun.

A MIRROR

Don’t break one.

“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

In the summer of 1958 Don Brady, Billy Fairless and me, I’m John Casey, went to a baseball tryout camp of the St. Louis Cardinals at Paxton Park located in Paducah, Kentucky. We were invited. We were team mates on our high school team at Vienna, IL.

The three of us made it through the first day and were invited to the second day and more serious evaluation of our baseball skills. ‘Two were real prospects; Brandy and Fairless. I was selected because I had excellent control and would be the pitcher for both teams in the first game. I was 5’6’ and weighed 142 pounds and not big enough for the Cardinals. Don was 5’ 10 and 160 pounds. He was a strong hitter but his talent was as a pitcher. Billy was also 5’10” and a catcher.

The scout told me I would pitch for both sides for three innings. He asked that I just throw strikes. I had an assortment of pitches and used them in the first inning; neither side could hit me. The scout asked me to throw only fastballs.

Brady played center field. He trotted by me to and from center field and when he came by he grinned. I signaled that I was going to throw him only hip high fastballs. He was the second hitter in his teams second inning. My first pitch was outside, the second was low. A hitter knows with that count the pitcher would likely throw a fast ball. I did, he swung and missed. Another pitch and he fouled it. The third pitch was perfect for him and he swung and missed.

When he came by on his was to his position he nodded and shrugged his shoulders and grinned. In the third inning I again faced Brady. He needed only one pitch; fast ball hip-high. His bat cracked and the baseball rifled over second base climbing and hit the top edge of the wooden center field fence. I watched him as he raced into second base without a slide. He pointed at me and grinned. I didn’t smile but was proud he has shown his power.

Brady was offered a minor league contract with a signing bonus of $25,000. He would be assigned to A ball his first year and predicted to reach the majors in 3-5 years. He declined. Billy and I received thanks for coming. We were proud too.

He would go to college and received a scholarship to play baseball. He played only his freshman year and from there pursed his career reaching heights unimagined by a small town kid in Southern Illinois.

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Brady – Metropolis OST

Metropolis, Illinois, the home of Super Man is located close to the Ohio River in deep Southern Illinois. Their high school was Vienna’s arch rival located 28 miles north. During the summer Metropolis had an American Legion Baseball team and invited area players to join the team if they qualified. Don Brady, Billy Fairless and I , John Casey, was invited for tryouts and made the team. Don and Billy would be starters and I would be a utility player and a relief pitcher.

Brady was on the mound at Paxton Park where the Legion played. Billy was behind the plate and I was at second base. Billy got hurt early in the game and could not continue. Our back-up catcher was not at the game. Brady volunteered me to catch him. “Casey can catch me” he said to the manager. “Are you sure” he replied. Brady replied “yes.” The manager called me over and said I would move to catcher. I liked that as it would give me more opportunities to play.

Things went well for a while. Brady’s fast ball and nickel curve were moving well and I didn’t have any difficulty catching. Then one of his pitches nicked the pant leg of a batter and deflected the ball enough for me to make a one-handed snag. I threw the ball back to Brady. He called out “anyone bleeding up there?” A small amount of blood was on the ball. Both the ump and I looked for blood. Seeing none, Brady made another pitch and again called time and walked towards home plate. I took off my glove and there was blood. His fast ball had jammed my ring finger and broke skin causing blood to rush out. It was not hurting and looked OK, so we wrapped it up with gauze and white tape and resumed the game.

Brady eased up on his pitches and the other team began to hit him. I called time and went to the mound. I said, “Brady, if you slow down they will continue to hit you. I want your best, I’m not hurt”. He responded with a grin and OK.

I earned a start for the next five weeks when our catcher returned. Brady told that story often and bragged on my toughness. Baseball was my passion and it was also Brady’s. I’m fortunate to have had him and Billy as friends and supporters

The passing of Brady saddens me. Billy died in 2020. His passing also saddened me. I rejoice in knowing both and playing a game we loved.

We did our best.

In the summer of 1958 Don Brady, Billy Fairless and me, I’m John Casey, went to a baseball tryout camp of the St. Louis Cardinals at Paxton Park located in Paducah, Kentucky. We were invited. We were team mates on our high school team at Vienna, IL.

The three of us made it through the first day and were invited to the second day and more serious evaluation of our baseball skills. "Two were real prospects; Brandy and Fairless. I was selected because I had excellent control and would be the pitcher for both teams in the first game. I was 5’6’ and weighed 142 pounds and not big enough for the Cardinals. Don was 5’ 10 and 160 pounds. He was a strong hitter but his talent was as a pitcher. Billy was also 5’10” and a catcher.

The scout told me I would pitch for both sides for three innings. He asked that I just throw strikes. I had an assortment of pitches and used them in the first inning; neither side could hit me. The scout asked me to throw only fastballs.

Brady played center field. He trotted by me to and from center field and when he came by he grinned. I signaled that I was going to throw him only hip high fastballs. He was the second hitter in his teams second inning. My first pitch was outside, the second was low. A hitter knows with that count the pitcher would likely throw a fast ball. I did, he swung and missed. Another pitch and he fouled it. The third pitch was perfect for him and he swung and missed.

When he came by on his was to his position he nodded and shrugged his shoulders and grinned. In the third inning I again faced Brady. He needed only one pitch; fast ball hip-high. His bat cracked and the baseball rifled over second base climbing and hit the top edge of the wooden center field fence. I watched him

as he raced into second base without a slide. He pointed at me and grinned. I

didn’t smile but was proud he has shown his power.

Brady was offered a minor league contract with a signing bonus of $25,000. He would be assigned to A ball his first year and predicted to reach the majors in 3-5 years. He declined. Billy and I received thanks for coming. We were proud too.

He would go to college and received a scholarship to play baseball. He played only his freshman year and from there pursed his career reaching heights unimagined by a small town kid in Southern Illinois.

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Brady – Metropolis QIAT

Metropolis, Illinois, the home of Super Man is located close to the Ohio River in deep Southern Illinois. Their high school was Vienna’s arch rival located 28 miles north. During the summer Metropolis had an American Legion Baseball team and invited area players to join the team if they qualified. Don Brady, Billy Fairless and I , John Casey, was invited for tryouts and made the team. Don and Billy would be starters and I would be a utility player and a relief pitcher.

Brady was on the mound at Paxton Park where the Legion played. Billy was behind the plate and I was at second base. Billy got hurt early in the game and could not continue. Our back-up catcher was not at the game. Brady volunteered me to catch him. “Casey can catch me” he said to the manager. “Are you sure” he replied. Brady replied “yes.” The manager called me over and said I would move to catcher. I liked that as it would give me more opportunities to play.

Things went well for a while. Brady’s fast ball and nickel curve were moving well and I didn’t have any difficulty catching. Then one of his pitches nicked the pant leg of a batter and deflected the ball enough for me to make a one-handed snag. I threw the ball back to Brady. He called out “anyone bleeding up there?” A small amount of blood was on the ball. Both the ump and I looked for blood. Seeing none, Brady made another pitch and again called time and walked towards home plate. I took off my glove and there was blood. His fast ball had jammed my ring finger and broke skin causing blood to rush out. It was not hurting and looked OK, so we wrapped it up with gauze and white tape and resumed the game.

Brady eased up on his pitches and the other team began to hit him. I called time and went to the mound. I said, “Brady, if you slow down they will continue to hit you. I want your best, I’m not hurt”. He responded with a grin and OK.

T earned a start for the next five weeks when our catcher returned. Brady told that story often and bragged on my toughness. Baseball was my passion and it was also Brady’s. I’m fortunate to have had him and Billy as friends and supporters

The passing of Brady saddens me. Billy died in 2020. His passing also saddened me. I rejoice in knowing both and playing a game we loved.

We did our best.

THEY ARE BUDS, PLAIN & SIMPLE. FIND ONE AND THERE YOU'LL SEE THE OTHER OF THE PAIR BEING WHERE THEY WANT TO BE.

Stork and Mike, both jokesters, Or Mike and Al, both quipsters. They’re birds of a feather whereever they go. They’re heckle and jeckle & amigos.

Gerry and Wally, smartly and wise guy, Or Terry and Tom, clever, crafty, and sharp. Gadflies and barflies – each one of a kind, not phonies. They’re an inseparable pair, they're cronies.

Randy and Bill, side kick and buddy, Or Scott and Matt, real pals and chums. They're singers or players — you name the game. They're quipsters and nipsters — they think the same.

Gene and Bob, flip & snip, sauce & sass, Or Bill & Jack, comedian and comrad. When one leads the other follows, they are a pair. Their ploy is tom foolery, confusing, to set a snare.

Lon and DeeWayne, brash and bold, Or Dave & John, associate and friend — a brace. They turn everyday things into a pun, And they do it with wit and by poking fun.

They teeter and totter, Wobble and weave, Limp and shuffle, Shilly and shally.

Wednesday afternoon, October 20, 2004 —- Game 6, LCS Cardinals vs. Astros – Bush Stadium, St. Louis, MO.

The Metro-Link was almost empty when I boarded it at the Queen in East St. Louis for the ride over to the stadium. It was a quick ride and hardly anyone was outside the stadium when I arrived. The second inning was about to start.

I found a guy with a handful of tickets and bought a reserved ticket and quickly entered the stadium and became one of the more than 50,000 there. The Cards were up 4 to 2 and the noise was loud – and wonderful.

Houston’s third baseman, Lamb, homered and the game went to 4 to 3. On and on the game went with high, medium, and low fives being passed along on almost every play. The temperature went up in the stadium and every pitch was watched carefully. Commentators were in every seat voicing their opinions of the game going on on the field, the dugout, in the bullpen and everywhere.

Suddenly, the crowd grew quieter in the 9" when there were two on, two out and Bagwell was facing Izzy. Bagwell laced a liner to left and the runner scored. Tie game: 4 to 4.

The commentators continued their barrage. Chants were resounding and chair seats were clacking throughout the stadium. Cardinal towels were waving on most pitches. Players not on the field were leaning over the dugout rails and the bullpen crew was at the fence. The scene was electric and breathtaking and all eyes were glued to the field.

The 10% and 11t were tense innings. Tavaris was throwing strikes in the top of the 12" for the Cardinals and the batters were retired 1-2-3. It was the bottom of the 12% now.

Pujols walked. Enter Edmonds; “Jimmy.” The high pitch was inside and high and Jimmy hammered it deep towards right field. Everyone in the stadium was standing, on tiptoes even, as the ball cleared the wall. A delirious crowd of white and red clad men/boys + gathered at the plate and Jimmy jumped into them touching the plate for the 6 run. Cardinals 6 – Astros 4.

The crowd went wild.

Some games are more memorable than others, but I remember _ each game I see and once in a while I write about them. 2%

John Casey 5/13/09

An Afternoon at Busch Stadium, St. Louis, MO Wednesday October 20, 2004 —- Game 6, LCS Cardinals vs. Astros

The Metro-Link was almost empty when I boarded it at the Casino Queen in East St. Louis for the trip over to the stadium. It was a quick ride and hardly anyone was outside the stadium when I arrived. The second inning was about to start.

I approached a man with a handful of tickets and bought one and quickly entered the stadium and became one of more than 50,000 there. The Cards went up 4 to 2 and the noise was loud – and wonderful.

Houston’s third baseman, Lamb, homered and the game went to 4 to 3. On and on the game went with high, medium, and low fives being passed along on almost every play. The temperature rose and each pitched ball was watched carefully. Thousands of amateur commentators were loudly voicing their opinions of the game on the field and in the dugout.

Suddenly, the crowd grew quiet in the 9t» when there were two on – two out and Bagwell was facing Izzy. Bagwell laced a liner to left and the runner scored. Tie game: 4 to 4. The next guy went out. The Cards didn’t score in the bottom of the ninth.

The commentators continued their barrage. Chants were loud. Chair seats were clacking throughout the stadium. Cardinal towels were waving on every pitch. Players not on the field leaned over the dugout rails and the bullpen crew was at the fence. The scene was electric and breathtaking. 100,000 eyes were glued to the field.

The 10‘ and 11t» were tense, scoreless innings. Tavaris was throwing strikes in the top of the 12th for the Cardinals and the Houston batters were retired 1-2-3.

Now it was the bottom of the 12. Pujols walked. Enter Edmonds; “Jimmy.” The high pitch was inside and Jimmy hammered it deep towards right field. Everyone in the stadium stood, some on tiptoes, as the ball cleared the wall. A delirious crowd roared as red and white clad men gathered at home plate. Jimmy jumped into them barely touching the plate. Cardinals 6 — Astros 4.

The crowd went wild.

John Casey 435 % Bluff St. Alton, IL 62002 618-670-5646

jrcasey134@gmail.com

Every game to me is memorable. This one was special.

December 25, 1981 Guests: OZ, Edna Jim, Barb, Jamie Bob Tom, Patty, Chris, Laurie Mary Paul Shanon, Barb, John Merc Marie Grandpa King

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@ 46? as In the summer of 1958 Don Brady, Billy Fairless and me, I’m John Casey, i] went to a baseball tryout camp of the St. Louis Cardinals at Paxton Park located in 3

Paducah, Kentucky. We were invited. We were team mates on our high school team at Vienna, IL. 7The three of us made it through the first day and were invited to the second day and

more serious evaluation of our baseball skills. Two were real prospects; Brandy and Fairless. I was selected because I had excellent control and would be the pitcher for both teams in the first game. I was 5’6’‘and weighed 142 pounds and not big enough for the Cardinals. Don was 5’ 10 and 160 pounds. He was a strong hitter but his talent was as a pitcher. Billy was also 5°10” and a catcher.

> The scout told me I would pitch for both sides for three innings. He asked that I just throw strikes. I had an assortment of pitches and used them in the first inning; neither side could hit me. The scout asked me to throw only fastballs.

Brady played center field. He trotted by me to and from center field and when he came by he grinned. I signaled that I was going to throw him only hip high fastballs. He was the second hitter in his teams second inning. My first pitch |

@ was outside, the second was low. A hitter knows with that count the pitcher would likely throw a fast ball. I did, he swung and missed. Another pitch and he fouled it. The third pitch was perfect for him and he swung and misseg@V hen he came by on his was to his position he nodded and shrugged his shoulders and grinned? In the third inning I again faced Brady. He needed only one pitch; fast ball hip-high. His bat cracked and the baseball rifled over second base climbing and hit the top edge of the wooden center field fence. I watched him as he raced into second base without a slide. He pointed at me and grinned. I didn’t smile but was proud he has shown his power.

Brady was offered a minor league contract with a signing bonus of $25,000. He would be assigned to A ball his first year and predicted to reach the majors in 3-5 years. He declined. Billy and I received thanks for coming. We were proud teo.

He would go to college and received a scholarship to play baseball. He played

only his freshman year and from there pursed his career reaching heights unimagined by ‘@) a small town kid in Southern Illinois. 8

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.”

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

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.

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 toa 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.’

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 7oo block of Park Street to the front door of Fast Eddies. It was just -2 tens of a mile.

Ihave 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 I 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?

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, P’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 im 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 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. n 9% ‘

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 (Cs 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

to the basement there is a large area where boring bees have deposited an enormous amount of excrement. Some of the bees have bored in several areas in the walls along the corner of the house, in the garage and basement. There have been several small wasp nests (perhaps dirt dobbers or small black bodied wasps) build near the back steps entrance door and at the door cove to HER apartment. Also, on a rear window. HER said she got stung bya wasp and it was my fault. | can’t train wasps.

Several years | wrote a sonnet abut the apartment house. | shared with my family and a few friends. It was also published ina daily paper. THIS OLD HOUSE.

John Casey

1600 words.

to the basement there is a large area where boring bees have deposited an enormous amount of excrement. Some of the bees have bored in several areas in the walls along the corner of the house, in the garage and basement. There have been several small wasp nests (perhaps dirt dobbers or small black bodied wasps) build near the back steps entrance door and at the door cove to HER apartment. Also, on a rear window. HER said she got stung by a wasp and it was my fault. I can’t train wasps. Several years I wrote a sonnet abut the apartment house. I shared with my family and a few friends. It was also published in a daily paper. THIS OLD HOUSE. John Casey 1600 words.

Change is difficult, uncomfortable, and frightening. That’s how we know we’re changing. I want to make decisions based on what would feel right if | knew I was going to die in a day, a week, or a year. That’s a way to becoming aware of how I feel. I don’t have the luxury of psychoanalysis of a year or more. I need an inner reason for being, resolve conflicts and freeing energy. I have had to deal with just living. Surgery and drugs buy time, but it is up to me to change my life. As long as I am alive I can be funny and laugh. I can enjoy music, meditation, and lightheartedness to help me deal with any situation. I will find the time for humor, tell jokes, doodle, and let the child inside me play and to love myself. I can be tough and gentle, logical and intuitive, hard working and lazy, shy and aggressive, introspective and outgoing, serious and playful and so forth. I am guided by my own standards rather than beliefs about what others may think. | will find new solutions, become more capable of taking risks and to experiment with my own life. I believe in the sun — even when it does not shine; I believe in love-even when it is not shown. My journal is not what I did today, it is what I thought. I know that love is greater than like. | am homeward bound.

When you change the way you look at things, the things you

look at change. There is no way to happiness, happiness is the way.

The spirit does not have a shape. I look like myself, but I am my spirit. When I am inspired I am /nspirit. I must suspend my ego. My ego is the idea I carry around about myself. I am what I do, think and be.

We are all spiritual beings having human experiences, not human beings having spiritual experiences.

T own my life. Iamall that I truly have. I don't need to be right. I don't need to have more. There is nothing missing. My life is full. It can be different with different thoughts, people, and events in it, but is not empty, it is full. It is up to me to make changes in my life.

My emotions and thoughts can keep me separate from my source. Every thought I've had that is negative is resistance to my connection to my source.

I'm better than I used to be in every single way. Lhave the creative power to live my life on purpose and out loud.

The energy of my life je’my thoughts. I receive energy from friends, family, animals, books, music, the people around me and the food I eat. I came from a field of energy. Iam from an infinite source, I am now here, and I will return to an infinite source. While I am here I will find a way to give service and to be kind. It will provide me with energy. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Beauty is truth – truth beauty –

CHANGE _ itstarted with a comment about an illness that was not explainable. A friend said not to complain or even talk about complaining. I was obviously being self-centered and it was a turn off. This led me to make a list of actions and behaviors that can help me change or improve. Making immediate changes may not be possible, but I can become aware of what I do or think and start changing. The list is not complete nor in any particular order or priority. My friend said, “For now concentrate on one thing; don’t repeat yourself”! By recognizing this annoying behavior J WILL CHANGE.

Do not repeat myself Listen. Don’t interrupt to disagree without a reason Improve speaking voice. Speak clearly, in complete sentences and with a pleasant tone Do not mumble Make and keep eye contact Look up, not down when answering someone Say hello, good morning, thank you, you’re welcome, sincerely Ask brief questions, give brief answers, don’t go on and on It is OK to say yes or no without an explanation Because is an answer Don’t ask for someone’s opinion without thinking Opinions don’t have to be answered Don’t say, “I heard,” without identifying the source Do not whine or complain*

Use simple responses. Do not question others too quickly or be argumentative Do not judge or blame someone as an excuse Do not compare myself with others, as in “I would have…” Do not talk abut pain, pills or ills (Drs — medical staff exception) Acknowledge others quickly and politely

Welcome others to join me or my group when it is appropriate Don’t butt in, wait to be invited Thank people promptly Eat slowly Share as much as possible Do not offer my opinion when it is not asked for or needed Take more risks Don’t be greedy Don’t look for a fight, but don’t back down when I shouldn’t Apologize when I need to, but don’t dwell on it

Ido not have to apologize for who Iam Celebrate the little things too

The best part of rain is being in it Remember that criticism is never welcomed by anyone

Since our last visit

| changed doctors – Aplus +++

My prescription list was reduced ++

I’ve been to Boston – last trip, included Florida +++

Biden was elected President +

I’ve decluttered my apartment – a plus +++

I’m still estranged from my siblings – improvement –

I’ve greatly reduced my rock painting hobby +

I’ve been a tad more social – a need +

I’m eating a wider range of food without difficulty – improvement + | have new dentures – +

| have new prescription glasses +

| started a book – Story Worth – Several chapters completed + I’ve perked up and believe my wit and humor is better +

| don’t sleep as well as | want –

| avoid negative people when | can +

I’ve had financial anxiety but it is better and not ridiculous + Physical pain – head to toe – headaches left hip, left leg, back, – | don’t dwell in the past +

I’ve lost quite a few good friends – too many. It saddens me –

| am grateful & Kinder ++++ | listen better.

Since our last visit I changed doctors – A plus +++ My prescription list was reduced ++ I’ve been to Boston – last trip, included Florida +++ Biden was elected President + I’ve decluttered my apartment – a plus +++ I’m still estranged from my siblings – improvement – I’ve greatly reduced my rock painting hobby + I’ve been a tad more social – a need + I’m eating a wider range of food without difficulty – improvement + I have new dentures – + I have new prescription glasses + I started a book – Story Worth – Several chapters completed + I’ve perked up and believe my wit and humor is better + I don’t sleep as well as I want – I avoid negative people when I can + I’ve had financial anxiety but it is better and not ridiculous + Physical pain – head to toe – headaches left hip, left leg, back, – I don’t dwell in the past + I’ve lost quite a few good friends – too many. It saddens me – I am grateful & Kinder ++++ I listen better.

Some of the changes I have made include:

Drink more water, decrease sugar (I can improve in this category), decrease salt and caffeine I have cut back on salt tremendously. I think I can stop salt (that you sprinkle or cook with) altogether and substitute herbs/seasonings.

I can also watch labels on food carefully and read more about all of the additives, not just sodium, fat, sugar, etc. I seldom buy/eat prepared foods. I have virtually eliminated chips and snack foods, but admit that I crave them. Salt, I surmise, is the reason. Darn, I love pretzels, corn chips, and vinegar and salt potato chips.

I take a guilt trip when I eat red meat or pork and am not that crazy about fish and turkey. I eat a lot of chicken, but get tired of it. Chili, vegetable beef soup, chicken soup, ham and beans, meat loaf, turkey and gravy, stuffing (it’s full of sodium) are almost meals of the past. I haven’t had a bologna sandwich in a year and took cold cuts out. Salami was my favorite snack, along with sharp cheddar cheese and salty crackers, with merlot, of course. I still do cheddar cheese and work in pita chips now and then.

Ihave a wok, an electric grill, slow cooker, a toaster/oven, a microwave, and a regular electric stove plus most of the tools for cooking. I have about 15 cookbooks and most of them are aligned on the healthy side. I make most of my meals and want to eat about 4/5 times a day. Snacks are usually fruit, but I like a cobbler or a pie now and then, sometimes with ice cream. I use skim milk (just started) and may try almond milk. I use canola and olive oil, unsalted butter, and whole wheat bread. I don’t do donuts, but like bagels and crusty breads (and must read more labels). I do like candy orange slices and Twizzers, but refrain from getting large sizes. I use dark chocolate morsels that I melt and add pistachio nuts. I like to have this on hand and ration it.

For salads, I like dark greens and reds. My wonderful friend makes the best salads ever. She thoroughly washes loose leaf lettuce and cuts it diagonally; slices radishes thin, likewise, crisp red apples, cucumbers (not all the time), and zucchini. A scattering of feta cheese, perhaps home made croutons (no salt) and fresh seasonings from her garden. The dressing might be light vinegar and olive oil, or freshly squeezed orange juice (she cuts an orange in half and squeezes it over the salad). And she might add ripe olives, a sprinkle of pepper, a pinch of ginger and maybe a sliver or two of almonds. No two salads are exactly alike. Crusty bread, of course, also accompanies it. How could I not be getting better?

I will limit, but not eliminate everything. I use lean meat, skinless chicken and turkey fish, fresh vegetables, fruit, and drink mostly water. I will have a Coke now and then. I need to grade cheeses, avoid canned and prepared foods; limit candy, and get fresh herbs/spices and healthier dressings. Skim milk will replace whole milk (my tears are coming). I eat steel cut oats that I cook, rice, and low fat cottage cheese. I eat cottage cheese and peach slices and/or pears for a side dish. I will try turkey chili, vegetable, chicken, and onion soup.

I promise to eat a grilled hamburger, BBQ a lean cut of pork, and fry a chicken in canola oil. I may have fried potatoes and baked beans too. And, drink a bottle of cold Budweiser.

I’m getting better.

sipegie | ew ae 1 ahh bac @ ty ete paper

uth i ee a “CHOKE” wwe ,

Choke was a darned good man and he knew it and we knew it and Choke knew we knew it. It was the way it was. Choke was an ordinary guy in the noblest sense of the term, a steady solid man whose old-fashioned virtues were the perfect antidote for his friends and brothers who cherished his stability and civility.

He was utterly uncomplicated, lacking pretense, and he spoke, smiled and toasted everyone.

He was a fine gentleman and gave to and received great respect from his brothers. For that and many personal

kindnesses,

Thank you, Mr. Chokey Brothers and friends of the Wood River Moose Lodge # 1349 john casey 2/7/08

The length of one day matters less than the love of one’s family and friends. | thank God for the gift of every sunrise and, even more, for all the years he has blessed me with the friends of a life time. John casey 2/7/08

The sun is out, the sky is blue, There’s nota cloud to spoil the view, But it’s raining, raining in my heart

Buddy Holly

The original page will appear here.

The city prioritizes high traffic areas and State Street is one. Bluff, Belleville, and Prospect receive attention before lesser traveled streets. Bluff and Belleville also gets plowed two lanes when possible. The city wants cars to be parked in driveways when they plow snow, however a lot of cars will be parked on these streets. Removing snow from cars is not considered when clearing snow from driveways and sidewalks.

Equipment, etc: Snow Shovel, metal ice scrapper, A strong broom, a leaf blower are primary items needed.

Quality layered clothing, boots and head gear, masks, gloves are basic needs. Asled can be adapted to carry tools and equipment.

One person can handle only a certain number of clients. That number should be set, if possible. A contract can give both the property owner and snow remover confidence. Setting the limit is also important. A second person may be considered to provide service to more property owners.

The areas outlined in the notes require scheduling. Snow knows no favorites. Being familiar with each area is important.

The city prioritizes high traffic areas and State Street is one. Bluff, Belleville, and Prospect receive attention before lesser traveled streets. Bluff and Belleville also gets plowed two lanes when possible. The city wants cars to be parked in driveways when they plow snow, however a lot of cars will be parked on these streets. Removing snow from cars is not considered when clearing snow from driveways and sidewalks. Equipment, etc: Snow Shovel, metal ice scrapper, A strong broom, a leaf blower are primary items needed. Quality layered clothing, boots and head gear, masks, gloves are basic needs. A sled can be adapted to carry tools and equipment. One person can handle only a certain number of clients. That number should be set, if possible. A contract can give both the property owner and snow remover confidence. Setting the limit is also important. A second person may be considered to provide service to more property owners. The areas outlined in the notes require scheduling. Snow knows no favorites. Being familiar with each area is important.

Union killed in battle Died of disease Total

Confederate killed in battle Died of disease Total

Total

110,070 (of approx. 2,500,000 to 2,750,000 soldiers)

250,152 360,222

94,000 164,000 258,000

618,222

(note rounding of numbers due to lack of records)

For every 1,000 Union soldiers approximately 112 were wounded For every 1,000 Rebel soldiers approximately 150 were wounded

Union records reveals: Died in prison Drowning

Accidents

Murders

Suicides

Sunstroke

Executions Unclassified

24,866 4,944 4,144

520 391 313 267 14,155

Elmer E. Ellsworth was the first Union casuality in 1861 and Walter Williams was the last to die in December 1959 when he was 117. Mr. Williams died 3 years after the last Confederate died. It was also when Nikita Kruschev was visiting the U.S. and was in Washington. It caused a stir.

Gettysburg: Union dead Wounded Missing Total Chicamaunga

3,155 14,529 5,365 23,049

1,657 9,756 4,757

Southern Army —_ 3,905 total: 7,060

18,735 5,425

28,063 total 51,112 3 days

2,312 total: 3,969

14,674

1,468 Total 34,654 2 days

Almost 4,000 were killed on the battlefield at Chicamaunga, but only one man, Pvt. John Ingraham, a

Confederate, is buried on the field. He was an orphan.

Sharpsburg/Atietam

Total

Shiloh

Total

2,108

9,549 753

12,410

1,754 8,408 2,885 13,047

2,700 total: 4,808

9,024

2,000

13,724 total 26,134 2 days

1,723 total: 3,457 8,012

959

10,694 total 23,741

Civil War Letters II .c (edited b y john Casey) July 14, 1861, Washington, D.C. Dear Sarah.

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a tew days, perhaps tomorrow. And Last | should wot be able to write you again, | feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when | am no more.

My courage does wot halt or falter. | am willing, perfectly willing to Lau down all mu lous in this Lite to help maintain this Qovernment.

Sarah, my Love tor you ts deathless, it seems to bind me with the mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence can break. And yet my Love of country comes over me like a strong wind.

The memory of all the blisstul moments | have enjoyed with you come crawling over me, And | feel most deeply grateful to God and you that | have enjoyed them so long, and how hara it is tor me give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years when, Goad willing, we might still have lived and Loved together ana see our bous grown up to honorable manhood around us.

tf (do wot return, Way dear Sarah, never forget how much | Loved You wor that when my Last breath escapes me ow the battlefield, it will whisper Your name. Foroive my many faults and the manu pains |

have caused You. Hewchoughttess, howfootish | have sometimes been>

But, oh Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they Love, | shall always b e with you in the brightest day and in the darkest wight. Always, Alwaus.

And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall b e my breath or the cool air you feel ow Your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah, do wot mourn the dead: think | am gone and wait

for me, for we shall meet again.

SULLIVAN BALLOKYW

The Letter was wever mailed. tt was found in the breast pocked of the uniform, worn by Sullivan Ballou who died at the first Battle of Bull

run, uly 21, 1861.

7 a

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Vos

Tle.

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ae" ad ne we at Standing on the bridge that crossed BULL RUN at Manassas, Virginia made me reflect on THE CIVIL WAR. It was Spring time and a fog covered the area allowing visibility of about one-half mile. I vowed to go back to the field of the opening great battle of the Civil War. I did two days later, but—onty briefly. eould-see_alot—moreof the area.

m is one thing I could imagine the actual

mel of

That-mey—heve—beer a starting point for me-te study the Civil War alittle more. It was the spring of 1987. Since then I have been quite active in reading and visiting some of the battle fields of the Civil War. seo-be-it.—f reatize that t have-just begun.

I am a Civil War Buff. I am not a hobbiest, historian, writer, nor am I an expert. A Buff is more—tike an amateur, while the others. -are-more—professional. Let-me-say, being an amateur on the Civil War could be a life time of enjoyment. By being a Buff, I am not expected tebe perfect or exact in the accounts and ab deeendte ieee ais of my impressions or viewpoints of the WAR. I like it like that. ~mueh—like—that, with.a_possible_ Gach gyldiest2-olele-Eeree oe oe piece-oftime in the WAR. Forgive me for any mistakes or errors that I make – correct me on the spot -PLEASE.

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Standing on the bridge that crossed BULL RUN at Manassas, Virginia made~me reflect*‘on THE CIVIL WAR. It was Spring téme and a fog covered the area allowing visibility of about one-half mile. I vowed to go back to the field of the opening eat battle of the Civil War. I did two days later, but only briefly. jowever, it was a good day and I could see a lot more of the area.

I teied.to imaginé ‘what it must have been like on that battle field in 1861 and 1862. Perkeps I eeuld produce!an image in my mind of Jackson "standing like a stone wall" on a ridge.’ “Pe s I could imagine/the roar of musket fire, and the heavy booms of the cannon, and even-of the yells from the men. But an imagination is one thing and reality is another. There was no way I could imagine the actual battle.

That may have been a starting point for me to study the Civil War a little more. It was téfe spring of 1987. Since then I have been quite active in reading and visiting some of the battle fields of the Civil War. If reading 190 books or more about the war is active, so be it. I realize that I have just begun.

I am a Civil War Buff. I am not a hobbiest, historian, writer, nor am I an expert. A Buff is mere like an amateur, white-the-others are professional. Let«me=say, being an amateur on the Civil War

could -a-life time of enjoyment. By being a Buff, I am not expected to be perfect or exact in the accounts and discriptions of my impressions or viewpoints of the WAR. I like it like that. I intend to keep it

like that, with-a—possible exception. ofa single b: battle or small

teece-of time—in-the WAR. Forgive me for any mistakes or errors “that —— kw I make – correct me on the spot -PLEASE. ee voter LO

Clark liked her and it was apparent that she liked him. On Christmas day, 1806 she gave him two dozen “wezils tails.” She was only in her 20’s when she died of some mysterious illness.

TOOLS OF THE TRIP included the compass, which was crucial to navigation and surveying.

Beads were primary currency of trade with the Indians, especially blue beads. When the explorers ran out of beads, they used buttons cut from their coats.

The Jefferson Peace Medal was coined especially for the trip. On one side was an image of Jefferson and on the other a handshake image with the words peace and friendship.

Kettles, knives, and axes were also in high demand, along with guns, and clothing. Patrick Goss, the chief carpenter, also wrote a journal, which was published in 1808 with mild success. Goss, who became a Sergeant after Charles Floyd died, was recruited from Illinois (Fort Kaskaskai). He lived longer than any of the Corps.

The Corps spent more time in Illinois than any other state.

Daniel Boone, probably in his 60’s, had moved to Missouri in 1796 and occupied property granted to him by Spain. Later the U.S withdrew the grant.

Davy Crockett was in his late 20’s when the expedition was starting in Illinois.

Spain controlled the land along the Missouri River (even though Spain had retro ceeded Louisiana Territory to France) and denied the request of Lewis to make their camp along the river. Thus, Wood River, IL became the logical spot. It was near St. Louis for supplies and near Fort Kaskaskai, a military & mail base.

The original page will appear here.

The original page will appear here.

Humans have always been both competitive and cooperative with both violent and beneficial tendencies. Like the two strands of the double helix of our DNA. We are primed for conflict and hatred but also for love, friendship, and cooperation. The good things we see around us are part of what makes us human in the first place.

How can people be so different from, even going to war with – one another and yet be so similar? We feel great when we help others. Our good deeds are not just the product of enlightenment values, they have a deeper origin. When we look around the world, we see endless and timeless fear, ignorance, hatred, and violence. This pessimistic gaze that separates humans from one another by highlighting evil and emphasizing difference misses an important underlying unity and overlooks our common humanity.

Corn petro cma Pafeceor

How can people be so different from, even going to war with – one another and yet be so similar? We feel great when we help others. Our good deeds are not just the product of Enlightenment values, they have a deeper origin. When we look around the world, we see endless and timeless fear, ignorance, hatred, and violence. This pessimistic gaze that separates humans from one another by highlighting evil and emphasizing difference misses an important underlying unity and overlooks our common humanity.

Humans have always had been both competitive and cooperative impluses, both violent and beneficial tendencies. Like the two strands of the double helix of our We are primed for conflict and hatred but also for love, friendship, and cooperation. The good things we see around us are part of what makes us human in the first place.

Count your blessings readers of today.

If you were living during Rome's grandeur that sentence would have looked like this:

COUNTYOURBLESSINGS READERSOF TODAY

And, if it were an inscription that needed balance, it would have looked like this:

Why Johnny can't read

would have been easy to explain when letters of the alphabet

were linked together like a train.

Avistophanes of Byzantium in the third century B.C. earned himself the right to be remembered easily.

He is the father of punctuation. Of course in all his books letters were printed in capitals ANDLIKESOLDIERSINADRILLTHEYLOOKED .

Complete thoughts ended with a dot high up-like this’

He marked a comma, by

putting it halfway up-like this:

Why then is the period

down here. instead of up here‘? Because monks in the Middle ages, good brothers that they were.

With a flourish of the quill they stroked a dashing slash, like this/. As time went on the slash lost dash.

Monks liked curls; first a comma, and it was they who put one

into the question mark.

It took some time to get it done.

You can express suprise with just |

And a punch is worth a "Pow:::"

To a fine English teacher

I'll wish you a happy 50th!}!, for now.

Count your blessings readers of today.

If you were living during Rome's grandeur that sentence would have looked like this:

COUNTYOURBLESSINGS READERSOF TODAY

And, if it were an inscription that needed balance, it would have looked like this:

fe) B 5 se]

Why Johnny can't read

would have been easy to explain when letters of the alphabet

were linked together like a train.

Avistophanes of Byzantium in the third century. B.C. earned himself the right to be remembered easily.

He is the father of punctuation. Of course in all his books letters were printed in capitals ANDLIKESOLDIERSINADRILLTHEYLOOKED .

Complete thoughts ended with a dot high up-like this«

He marked a comma, by

putting it halfway up-Like this:

Why then is the period

down here. instead of up here'? Because monks in the Middle ages, good brothers that they were.

With a flourish of the quill they stroked a dashing slash, like this/. As time went on the slash lost dash.

Monks liked curls; first a comma, and it was they who put one

into the question mark.

Tt took some time to get it done.

You can express suprise with just + And a punch is worth a "Pow:!!"

To a fine English teacher

I'll wish you a happy 50th!}+, for now.

© Gartner Studios

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Don't squat with your spurs on.

Don't interfere with something that ain't botherin’ you none,

Timing has a \ot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

colder it gets, the harder it is to swallow

The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with watches you shave his face in the mirror every morning.

Never ask a barber if you need a haircut.

Never miss a good chance to shut up

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Welcome news. “Hi John, it’s good to see you.” Creative imagery works by foraging connections between thoughts, feelings and ultimately actions. It’s a way of mobilizing resources and intentions. It makes me more focused, more conscious, and more capable of implementing the changes and results I want. Making it real. Imagining the way Ill look and sound when I’m older, the activities I’II participate in, the hugs of friends and families in the future, the taste of favorite food and drink, a healthy heart, sharp alert mind, strong muscles, and a ready smile. A life richer and fuller with age. It will come to me. I’ll drink more green tea, eat more blue berries and broccoli, and perhaps good red wine to make blood platelet less “sticky.” I will not make age an issue. I try to give someone (not everyone) something every day. I don’t count a smile necessarily, but I do a compliment, or a “touch.” Skin is rich with receptors that give us a silent but powerful connection so vital to health. I like living with a purpose. Aspirations guide me. Fulfilling a meaning and in actualizing values, rather than mere gratification and satisfaction of drives and instincts. “Friendly, funny and kind,” I’m all three, but not always. I’m also compassionate, passionate, and confident and strong willed without overpowering ego. I like individuality. I like characters, diversity, intelligence, openness, and sincerity. I have never heard a chorus of birds. They sing individually, I’m sure of it. Sheer display of talent. I’ve often thought that all animals use all of their talents more so than humans. Why? Because they can, and because they can’t. Forays into wilderness areas or just relaxing in the town park increase the connections and promote closeness among friends, families, and animals and plants. Even in the woods I travel a path less traveled. I seek and want a relationship that is genuine, and one that endures because of desire, effort, and understanding. I am attracted to a woman who has a passion for life, a good deal of humor, intelligence and with good looks that come from assurance, zeal, goodness and grooming.

CRITICISM IS A NEGATIVE WORD

I don’t like criticism, do you? We just don’t do we? It doesn’t’ matter who gives it or when, it always feels the same. Flattery will get you anywhere; criticism will get you down. Helpful criticism? There’s no such thing.

A savant may have an enviable mind for remembering everything, like what day Lincoln was born or who won the Oscars in 1958 (I don’t know). But the savant also remembers all the criticisms received in his or her life time. The Titanic sank on a Thursday, JFK was shot on Friday, things like that, but a Savant will sadly recall a remark made on July 10, 1996 (a Tuesday — look it up); “You hair looks like a mop and you have an ugly nose”. Trust me on this one.

Is there a degree of criticism? I think so. We might shrug off criticisms given with a tongue in cheek, like, “Your socks don’t match,” but when you add a word, like “Your socks don’t match – dummy.” You don’t appreciate it. Come on, you don’t.

I’m guessing you give it back too. Retaliation is what I’m talking about. The recipient may not be the same person as the one who gave you the Zinger either. It takes time getting over some criticisms and that means we are around different folks. May as well throw some mud, you think; don’t hold it in, make someone unhappy like you.

I’ve known people who pass around criticisms all the time to anyone, be they present or absent. Quips they call them — not come backs (retaliation, remember). In every group it seems there is a quipster actively participating in the criticism game. The nervous laughter of others in the group is an attempt to ward off remarks aimed at them. Meanwhile, the recipient (I use that word a lot) seeks, often behind flushed cheeks and narrow eyes, a burst of creative criticism to repay the criminality of a tormenter. This is likely to backfire and you become the chump for letting it get to you. “Can’t take it, can you?” Inside, you want to say, “Damn right I can’t take it.” But, nooo, you scoff it off, stare, or get up and leave. As you leave you are likely, to hear; “He/she is too serious”.

Seriously, for one day, recall any form of criticism that you hear or any that comes out of your mouth. You don’t have to be a savant to do this. How did you feel when you heard the criticism? How did you think the recipient (there it is again) feel?

This writing may be a piece of crap, but DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT from anyone.

456

CURVED NEEDLES

The tan and brown Ted Williams model baseball glove had been left out side and the rain had soaked it. It would take quite a while for it to dry, then it would be treated with Neets Foot Oil, saddle soap and be hand rubbed to bring back its suppleness. Another glove would be used until the Williams glove was ready for game day use.

The rawhide lacing from thumb to little finger would be replaced and the web of the glove checked for weakness. The thumb was no longer rigid and needed to be repaired. Lacing on the heel of the palm had to be removed and the damaged padding removed and replaced. A thick strip of cardboard in the thumb had been creased and the water had damaged it causing it to be flimsy. New cardboard was the answer and it was done. All the lacing had to be redone and that was hard. Long straight needles were used. The needle was strung with a strong cord and the rawhide lacing tied to the cord. The needle was threaded through the grommets on the glove and the rawhide was pulled through and pulled tightly. It was OK to do this, but it was slow until I found out about curved needles.

I stumbled upon the curved needles when I took some shoes to the shoe repair shop in Vienna, Il. Of course, the needles were used for shoes and boots; but they sure looked like they would work on my ball gloves. I was bashful, but I really needed a curved needle and finally asked the man behind the counter if | could see one up close — the one with the big eye. He consented and brought one out for my examination. The eye of the needle was bigger than any needle eye I had ever seen. I knew it could handle heavy cord and had to be OK to sew heavy leather. I was hooked on that needle right then.

It would work for me and I offered to buy one not knowing the cost. If [had a dollar, I didn’t, I would have gladly have paid it. He gave one to me, and said it was free. I thanked him and dashed out of the shop hardly able to contain myself.

All the sewing I would do would be a piece of cake.

My three ball gloves, the Ted Williams outfielder model, the Harvey Keune five- fingered shortstop glove, and the Gil Hodges first baseman’s claw glove would get new lacing and the holes in the fingers and back strap would be carefully sewn. The curved needle I used worked and how! I didn’t hurry and learned how to use the needle and thimble to work the needle in an out of the leather mending and strengthening the gloves.

I managed to relace baseballs when seams were ripped. I fixed my spikes and even fixed my regular shoes. It wasn’t fancy lacing or sewing, but it was sure easier and faster than the long straight small needles from my mom’s sewing basket.

The needle broke one day and I though I had lost a friend. Back to the shoeshop. I found out there were many sizes of curved needels and this time | paid for them.

They were about 10 cents each. I am sure that I was the only member of my baseball team that had and used curved needles, but that didn’t matter to me. Ihad the best gloves I could buy and now they would last longer because of those curved needles.

My mom and big sister, Edith, had helped me get started sewing buttons on shirts and patching holes in my socks. The toes I could do OK, but not the heels. The heels would always come out looking bad and with the sewing ridge making contact with my shoe and irritating my heel. It was to be years later when holes in the knees of jeans would be popular and that’s too bad. I had sewn lots of pretty neat patches, not all matching, on my jeans.

I’m sure my mom was proud of me for taking care of my clothes and my ball gloves, but without those curved needles my fielding errors would have surely gone up.

John Casey 10-30-2001

CURVED NEEDLES

The tan and brown Ted Williams model baseball glove had been left out side and the rain had soaked it. It would take quite a while for it to dry, then it would be treated with Neets Foot Oil, saddle soap and be hand rubbed to bring back its suppleness. Another glove would be used until the Williams glove was ready for game day use.

The rawhide lacing from thumb to little finger would be replaced and the web of the glove checked for weakness. The thumb was no longer rigid and needed to be repaired. Lacing on the heel of the palm had to be removed and the damaged padding removed and replaced. A thick strip of cardboard in the thumb had been creased and the water had damaged it causing it to be flimsy. New cardboard was the answer and it was done. All the lacing had to be redone and that was hard.

Long straight needles were used. The needle was strung with a strong cord and the rawhide lacing tied to the cord. The needle was threaded through the grommets on the glove and the rawhide was pulled through and pulled tightly. It was OK to do this, but it was slow until I found out about curved needles.

I stumbled upon the curved needles when I took some shoes to the shoe repair shop in Vienna, Il. Of course, the needles were used for shoes and boots; but they sure looked like they would work on my ball gloves. I was bashful, but I really needed a curved needle and finally asked the man behind the counter if I could see one up close – the one with the big eye. He consented and brought one out for my examination. The eye of the needle was bigger than any needle eye I had ever seen. I knew it could handle heavy cord and had to be OK to sew heavy leather. I was hooked on that needle right then.

It would work for me and I offered to buy one not knowing the cost. If I had a dollar, I didn't, I would have gladly have paid it. He gave one to me, and said it was free. I thanked him and dashed out of the shop hardly able to contain myself.

All the sewing I would do would be a piece of cake.

My three ball gloves, the Ted Williams outfielder model, the Harvey Keune five-fingered shortstop glove, and the Gil Hodges first baseman's claw glove would get new lacing and the holes in the fingers and back strap would be carefully sewn. The curved needle I used worked and how! I didn't hurry and learned how to use the needle and thimble to work the needle in an out of the leather mending and strengthening the gloves.

I managed to relace baseballs when seams were ripped. I fixed my spikes and even fixed mv

CURVED NEEDLES The tan and brown Ted Williams model baseball glove had been left out side and the rain had soaked it. It would take quite a while for it to dry, then it would be treated with Neets Foot Oil, saddle soap and be hand rubbed to bring back its suppleness. Another glove would be used until the Williams glove was ready for game day use.

The rawhide lacing from thumb to little finger would be replaced and the web of the glove checked for weakness. The thumb was no longer rigid and needed to be repaired. Lacing on the heel of the palm had to be removed and the damaged padding removed and replaced. A thick strip of cardboard in the thumb had been creased and the water had damaged it causing it to be flimsy. New cardboard was the answer and it was done. All the lacing had to be redone and that was hard. Long straight needles were used. The needle was strung with a strong cord and the rawhide lacing tied to the cord. The needle was threaded through the grommets on the glove and the rawhide was pulled through and pulled tightly. It was OK todo this, but it was slow until I found out about curved needles.

I stumbled upon the curved needles when I took some shoes to the shoe repair shop in Vienna, Il. Of course, the needles were used for shoes and boots; but they sure looked like they would work on my ball gloves. I was bashful, but I really needed a curved needle and finally asked the man behind the counter if I could see one up close — the one with the big eye. He consented and brought one out for my examination. The eye of the needle was bigger than any needle eye I had ever seen. I knew it could handle heavy cord and had to be OK to sew heavy leather. I was hooked on that needle right then.

It would work for me and I offered to buy one not knowing the cost. If [had a dollar, I didn’t, I would have gladly have paid it. He gave one tc me, and said it was free. I thanked him and dashed out of the shop hardly able to contain myself.

All the sewing I would do would be a piece of cake.

My three ball gloves, the Ted Williams outfielder model, the Harvey Keune five- fingered shortstop glove, and the Gil Hodges first baseman’s claw glove would get new lacing and the holes in the fingers and back strap would be carefully sewn. The curved needle I used worked and how! I didn’t hurry and learned how te use the needle and thimble to work the needle in an out of the leather mending and strengthening the gloves.

I managed to relace baseballs when seams were ripped. I fixed my spikes and even fixed my regular shoes. It wasn’t fancy lacing or sewing, but it was sure easier and faster than the long straight small needles from my mom’s sewing basket.

The needle broke one day and I though I had lost a friend. Back to the shoeshop. I found out there were many sizes of curved needels and this time I paid for them.

The original page will appear here.

CUSSING

“Same to you,” were the only cuss words anyone of Randolph and Edith Casey’s kid could say.

I said them often.

Growing up in a small village of about 50 people in deep Southern Illinois in the 50’s was an experience for every boy and girl. I was the fifth of eight children, the fourth boy, in our family. We were raised “tight” but not too tight. We generally got along with each other and minded our parents, did our lessons and behaved when company came. We worked well too: dad taught us to work and mother kept us at it.

Tunnel Hill was our world. We seldom ventured outside of it. It is located in Johnson County, IL about 50 miles to each river, the Mississippi to the west and the Ohio to the east. Tunnel Hill was a railroad town and the New York Central Railroad was the railway. My dad, and later two brothers, worked for the railroad. I thought Tunnel Hill was 3 miles square, because that was about the territory us kids covered. One day we could go three miles thataway and the next we could go three miles thisaway.

Recreation, what there was to it, was interaction with other kids, inventing games, throwing rocks at something, shooting our sling shots, whittling, playing mumble peg with our pocket knives, exploring creeks, woods, culverts, and playing ball. Our games were stinkbase, darebase, andyover, no-gun cowboy, sockball, sheep-in-my-pen, hide-and-seek, ghost, pig, and anything our uncluttered minds could invent.

Cussing was going on back then and I heard quite a bit of it and I guess that the other kids did too. Older folks when in the presence of older folks cussed somewhat freely. Kids like myself hardly had a chance to be in rough story telling kinda conversations with adult men. I could be real quiet in their presence and sometimes they would forget I was there and cuss. Guy McCuan cussed freely regardless of the crowd. So did Mr. Eastman and Bobby Lowery. If Herman Pratt cussed it sounded phony because everyone knew he went to church every Sunday with his gentle wife, Ora, and her mother Birdie Stewart. I even heard dad say “shit” once. He hit his thumb with a hammer when he was putting a hang up nail on the outside kitchen wall. “SHIT,” he said, quickly and loudly and swung his left hand down letting the blood spatter on the new concrete porch. That was all he said. He didn’t apologize or anything and if I was the only kid that heard it I can’t remember. I laughed, but only later.

Donnie Dalton cussed more than anyone I had ever heard before. He was in my class at school. ‘We went to a one-room country school located at the top of a hill just west of town. Donnie could cuss, but his big brother, Buddy probably taught him. Shirley, Donnie’s older sister, and Jimmy, his younger brotlier, could also cuss with the best of them. It was “hell” this, and “damm” that all day long with them. Sometimes God was brought into the conversation and I knew they were going to “Hades” for that.

Grandpa would say “dad gum,” and I heard “crap” a lot from almost everyone. “Son-of-a-gun” was also common and I heard a few “horse’s butt” uttered. “Bastard,” was OK, but only if it was used ina complete sentence, like “Arnold was a bastard son.” I never connected bastard with anything female, including animals. So, a boar could be a bastard, but a sow could not. Saying “Bitch” was also cussing.

‘When I heard downright cussing it alarmed me. Downright cussing was directed at someone, including animals, and that usually meant anger and disagreement. A team of horses or mules might bring out blue colored words from the driver: “You bastards get over — get along – get up,” fell on deaf ears because horses and mules didn’t understand the words, only the tone and the tug.

I didn’t want to cuss and never practiced it alone or with anyone. It was something I could live without or so I thought. I had not yet hit my thumb with a hammer, or caught my skin on a barbed wire fence, or busted my butt on a slippery rock, or been hit in the mouth with a fist. That would change.

Donnie Dalton could whip my butt and one day he did after announcing that he was going to whip my “Ass.” I didn’t like that at all and when he said, “take that you little bastard,” it hurt more than my butt did.

After quite a few butt whippings I decided to whip Jimmy’s little butt and did. “How did you like that you little twerp,” I said. He didn’t and told Donnie. But this time, my brother Bill stepped in and protected my butt against another whipping. Well, Donnie told his brother Buddy, who announced that he would whip my brother’s “Ass, ByGod.” Depending on who’s saying it, It’s getting dangerously close to “butt or ass kicking time” in Tunnel Hill. a

CUSSING

I grew up in the 1940’s and 50’s in a small village in Southern Illinois. I was the fifth of eight children. We were raised “tight” but not too tight. We generally got along with each other and minded our parents, and behaved when company came. Dad taught us to work and mom kept us at it.

Tunnel Hill is located in Johnson Co IL halfway between the Mississippi and the Ohio. Recreation in our town was interaction with kids, throwing rocks, shooting sling shots, whittling, playing mumble peg, exploring creeks, woods, culverts, and playing ball. We played dare base, andy-over, no-gun-cowboy, sock ball, sheep-in-my-pen, hide-and- seek, ghost, and anything our uncluttered minds could invent.

Cussing was going on of course, and some older folks, cussed reely. I heard dad say “s…” one day when he hit his thumb with a hammer while he was pounding a nail on the back porch. “Darn it,” I said, smiling. Grandpa said “dad gum,” and I heard “crap”; “son-of-a- gun” and a few “horse’s butts,” and “bastard” was OK, but only if it was used in a complete sentence.

When I heard downright cussing it alarmed me. Downright cussing usually meant loudness, anger and disagreement. I didn’t cuss. It was something I could live without. I had not yet hit my thumb with a hammer, or caught my skin on a barbed wire fence, or been hit in the mouth with a fist.

Donnie, his siblings, and I and mine, went to a one-room country school. Donnie, my age, his big brother, Buddy; Shirley, an older sister, and Jimmy, a younger brother, could cuss a blue streak. It was “hell” this, and “damn” that and sometimes God got into their conversation. I knew they were going to “Hades” for that.

Donnie announced at lunch time one day that he was going to whip my ars. He did and then said, “Take that you little bastard”. Later, at recess, as pay back, I whipped Jimmy’s little butt and said “How did you like that you twerp”? He didn’t and told Donnie. Well, Donnie told Buddy, who announced that he, would whup my brother Bill’s ars. Depending on whose saying it, it’s getting dangerously close to “butt or ars kicking time” in Tunnel Hill.

The fight continued brewing during school hours, and when the 4th and 5th grade classes were dismissed early we were told by our teacher to head home and ‘don’t delay.’ Donnie and I were hardly out of the schoolyard before he was pushing and shoving me trying to provoke a fight. I delayed as long as I could, because Bill would be let out of school soon, hopefully in time to save me from a butt whipping. Jimmy was in the early group and my target for later if it came to that. It would.

Donnie started a scuffle when we were out of sight of the school. Down in the red gravel road we rolled. We were fighting in front of the Methodist Church, no help for me because I was a Baptist. A ditch anda

blackberry patch were next to the road. Jimmy filled his yellow lunch pail with rocks intending to use it as a weapon.

The school let out before Donnie had massacred me and Bill came barreling into the scene with Buddy right behind him. Bill tugged Donnie off of me and flung him to the ground. I began pummeling Jimmy and emptied his bucket. Shirley entered the fight by jumping on Bill’s back. He tossed her into the blackberry patch. Then Buddy slugged Bill from behind. Bill, his hair, his million freckles, face, and eyes all bright red turned to his assailant. Bill dispatched Buddy and now his coup included Donnie and Shirley. I had shellacked Jimmy.

After the fight I and Bill got a cussing. I just said, “Same to you,” Cussing didn’t scare me even when God was used in their cuss words. I knew I was protected by my brother Bill. I also used another set of cuss words; “It takes one to know one”.

I’ve learned to cuss since then and I’m trying to quit, but when I do I’m reminded of what my mom used to say; “Cussing is a weak mind trying to express a strong thought.”

718 word count not including the address below

John Casey 435 % Bluff St. Alton, IL 62002 618-670-5646

jrcasey134@gmail.com

Saved on computer

The Alton Block Party is a distinctive Carnival.

I have always loved the fun of dancing in the streets and the energy and sheer excitement of the dancers, costumed, painted, and alive.

We evolved to be highly social animals capable of pleasurable bonding with people unrelated to ourselves. There is something distinctly human, and deeply satisfying in the collective joy of festiveness and ecstatic rituals.

Hierarchy, by its nature establishes boundaries between people – who can go where, who approach whom, who is welcome, and who is not. Festivities and carnivals break down boundaries.

The music invites everyone to mingle, share food, and dance which briefly undermines the privilege of class. At the height of the festivity, we step out of our assigned roles — of gender, ethnicity, and rank – and into a brief utopia of creativity and mutual love, and this is what still beckons us.

The capacity for collective joy is encoded into us almost as deeply as the capacity for the love of one human for another. We can live without it, but why not reclaim our distinctive heritage as creatures, which can generate their own ecstatic pleasures out of music, color, feasting and dancing? For a few moments there are no divisions among people at 1 i=

CARNIVAL

john casey, Alton, IL

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The Alton Block Party is a distinctive

I have always loved the fun of dancing in the streets and the energy and sheer excitement of the dancers, costumed, painted, and alive.

We evolved to be highly social animals capable of pleasurable bonding with people unrelated to ourselves. There is something distinctly human, and deeply satisfying in the collective joy of festiveness and ecstatic rituals.

Hierarchy, by its nature establishes boundaries between people – who can go where, who approach whom, who is welcome, and who is not. Festivities and carnivals break down boundaries.

The music invites everyone to mingle, share food, and dance which briefly undermines the privilege of class. At the height of the festivity, we step out of our assigned roles — of gender, ethnicity, and rank — and into a brief utopia of creativity and mutual love, and this is what still beckons us.

The capacity for collective joy is encoded into us almost as deeply as the capacity for the love of one human for another. We can live without it, but why not reclaim our distinctive heritage as creatures, which can generate their own ecstatic pleasures out of music, color, feasting and dancing? For a few moments there are no divisions among people at

john casey, Alton, IL

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Dancing In The Streets

The Alton Block Party isa distinctive Carnival.

Thave always loved the fun of dancing in the streets and the energy and sheer excitement of the dancers, costumed, painted, and alive.

We evolved to be highly social animals capable of pleasurable bonding with people unrelated to ourselves. There is something distinctly human, and deeply satisfying in the collective joy of festiveness and ecstatic rituals.

Hierarchy, by its nature establishes boundaries between people – who can go where, who approach whom, who is welcome, and who is not. Festivities and carnivals break down boundaries.

The music invites everyone to mingle, share food, and dance which briefly undermines the privilege of class. At the height of the festivity, we step out of our assigned roles — of gender, ethnicity, and rank ~ and into a brief utopia of creativity and mutual love, and this is what still beckons us.

The capacity for collective joy is encoded into us almost as deeply as the capacity for the love of one human for another. We can live without it, but why not reclaim our distinctive heritage as creatures, which can generate their own ecstatic pleasures out of music, color, feasting and dancing? For a few moments there are no divisions among people at Thi

CARNIVAL.

john casey, Alton, IL

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Dancing In The Streets The Alton Block Party is a distinctive Carmival.

I have always loved the fun of dancing in the streets and the energy and sheer excitement of the dancers, costumed, painted, and alive.

We evolved to be highly social animals capable of pleasurable bonding with people unrelated to ourselves. There is something distinctly human, and deeply satisfying in the collective joy of festiveness and ecstatic rituals.

Hierarchy, by its nature establishes boundaries between people – who can go where, who approach whom, who is welcome, and who is not. Festivities and carnivals break down boundaries.

The music invites everyone to mingle, share food, and dance which briefly undermines the privilege of class. At the height of the festivity, we step out of our assigned roles — of gender, ethnicity, and rank — and into a brief utopia of creativity and mutual love, and this is what still beckons us.

The capacity for collective joy is encoded into us almost as deeply as the capacity for the love of one human for another. We can live without it, but why not reclaim our distinctive heritage as creatures, which can generate their own ecstatic pleasures out of music, color, feasting and dancing? For a few moments there are no divisions among people at

THE CARNIVAL.

4 john casey, Alton, IL 4/25/2011

Shilet > 255

The Alton Block Party is a distinctive

Ihave always loved the fun of dancing in the streets and the energy and sheer excitement of the dancers, costumed, painted, and alive.

We evolved to be highly social animals capable of pleasurable bonding with people unrelated to ourselves. There is something distinctly human, and deeply satisfying in the collective joy of festiveness and ecstatic rituals.

Hierarchy, by its nature establishes boundaries between people – who can go where, who approach whom, who is welcome, and who is not. Festivities and carnivals break down boundaries.

The music invites everyone to mingle, share food, and dance which. briefly undermines the privilege of class. At the height of the festivity, we step out of our assigned roles — of gender, ethnicity, and rank — and into a brief utopia of creativity and mutual love, and this is what still beckons us.

The capacity for collective joy is encoded into us almost as deeply as the capacity for the love of one human for another. We can live without it, but why not reclaim our distinctive heritage as creatures, which can generate their own ecstatic pleasures out of music, color, feasting and dancing? For a few moments there are no divisions among people at”

john casey, Alton, IL ; Cracatled & 04/25/2011 te heer afnen out tan Ye nang Linrglet, APBD Ae copa etn yo ins Bilt

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My attitude is a Lot better than the Sight in my Right Eye. Since OCT I've been dealing with it. At first I let high Expectations get the best of me and gave me disappointment. Now, I'll Take it as it Comes every day and not Complain.

Cutting down on projects — a good — and Learning how to Coast & Relax Will help me. Organizing Clothes, Jackets, Shoes, etc lets me take inventory and may Cut down on Time daily household duties.

I'm about 90% ready for Spring with a garden plan. I'll Start Seeds right away for a few things. I've got good dirt, tomato Cages, pots for Flowers & for Potted Vegetables. Last Year was a Very good Garden Year.

I'm also about 90% ready for Golf — equipment and gear wise. I've developed an apparatus that will help the [reduce] pain in my hands and fingers. [margin: "& infection"]

Also, I plan to Cut down on golf togs and be more uniform with Subdued Clothes. Some of my Friends have 80–100 golf Shirts, 25–30 caps, and 6–8 pair of Shoes.

My Cardiologist remarked that my numbers are good — BP 109/62, Pulse. He said a new medicine to overcome fatigue may be a big help for me. He prescribed it and said if it's too expensive, Let him Know — he will help. $634.00. New = Expensive. 30 days. I Like him & enjoy talking to him. He Laughs and talks easily and informs me. He Likes my attitude and honesty. Wednesday 7/6/22. Nourishment and Eating well is/are important. I'm doing better, but Still need improvement. I made an ice-Cream Cone yesterday and will do another today. — Calorie goal — 2,000 a day. Low Energy Today. Up at 6. My Car is at the Shop. Window Problem & a BMW price to fix.

I have dad's Railroad Clock. Cool. It doesn't work. I have a Metro alarm [clock] too. I have decided to sell two mirrors. I have Four. I'm almost done with decluttering, but realize it's a project. My Four antique Trunks Contain various items. I'll Consolidate them into Like items.

Declutter and unclutter are similar — yet different. [meaning: clearing clutter / tidying up. Donation? Pick-up.] A mixture is — un/an/de — affect The Quality of Life. Philosophy of minimalism is a […]

Today I gave away 6 pair of Pants that did not fit me any more. They were too big, baggy, and Emphasized my shrunken body. I am smaller, weigh Less than [any] time in my adult Life.

A physical Therapist came by and Reviewed physical and Social activity and feelings. Gave me high marks on improvement, slight weight gain. Encouraged walking to the end of Bluff St. — can Lookout over the Mississippi River.

By Choice, I'm going to declutter my indoor plants. I've Lost a few. I Know what works. Some will be outside.

Sandi & I spent the better part of 2 hours on the porch swing Just Visiting. She hasn't Changed in 50 years. Dave Bilduff is aging, yet manages to drink a bottle of [dale?] in a week. He nods off and Sandi is worried when he drives.

Mary's youngest son forwarded 2500 photos of himself and Son to a skeptical pair. I flew through about 8 photos. Zip.

Decluttering, by the way, is also a way to weed out nonsense posts. I don't give a to, a too, a two the time of day to ignoramous Posts.

please TOSS the Junk notes I've Taken. The 1/6/2022 date and the unhinged Trump spiked my reply To Lock-Step followers who didn't get grades on their crew to pass the 3rd grade.

Dear John: Will learning to juggle increase my chances with the ladies? Steve, Lonesome in Bethalto

Dear lonesome Steve:

That you even have to ask is evidence that you are hopeless with “the ladies.” I doubt if it’s your lack of carnival skills hurting you the most, my uncoordinated friend.

John

Dear John:

What’s the second best way to ask your boss for a raise? Mike Y

E. Alton

Dear Mike: What’s with the Y?

The best way for you to ask your boss for a raise is to build

a time machine, go back in time, fix all of your stupid mistakes, and start making good, responsible choices while being nice and respectful to your fellow workers. This might also work with your former friends.

John

Dear John:

Ihave a receding hairline, but only on the right side of my head.

People say it makes me look unique, but I have become quite

anxious about it. Should I shave the other side to match? Shave it all off or wear a selection of hats?

Paul

Dear Paul:

I would definitely go with the hat. May I suggest a ski mask? Or a fez? John

Dear John: I’ve been a smoker for thirty five years. I would like to silence those nitties who are always obnoxiously preaching to me about cancer and coughing every time I light up. Is there a not a-healthy,- but equally-annoying habit I could pick up that’d allow me to live longer while continuing to piss off the right people? Thanks for your help. Kim and Bill (we have the same problem

Dear Kim and Bill: Join the Republican Party, Do what they tell you. You’re welcome, John

Dear John:

The word “unicorn” always makes me wonder.

Why isn’t it “unihorn?” When I hear “unicorn,”

I think that maybe somebody called it that because

they thought the horn looked like a giant corn on the cob and just screamed out, One Horn!” That makes me think unicorns are native to Iowa.

Dave J.

Dear Dave J.

You are really dumb. “Corn” is Latin for “horn,” as in Cornucopia. A mono (one)-horned horse is naturally called a unicom.

Dear John, I’ve been told that I’m hard of hearing, but the minute I turn on the TV and see an ad announcing a new or improved product, for the house my hearing is fine. Why. Elmer, in Godfrey Dear Elmer, You don’t say! You are listing to a TV ministry service program. EL, WHERE SHOUTING IS COMMON! Turn down the volume every time you hear a jingle or see a new fangled thing, and, SEND YOUR TITHE TO ME

YOU HEAR ME? . John.

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Dear John: The word “unicorn” always makes me wonder. Why isn’t it “unihorn?” When I hear “unicorn,” I think that maybe somebody called it that because they thought the horn looked like a giant corn on the cob and just screamed out, One Horn!” That makes me think unicorns are native to Iowa.

Dave J.

Dear Dave J.

You are really dumb. “Corn” is Latin for “horn,” as in Cornucopia. A mono (one)-horned horse is naturally called a unicorn.

Dear John, I’ve been told that I’m hard of hearing, but the minute I turn on the TV and see an ad announcing a new or improved product, for the house my hearing is fine. Why. Elmer, in Godfrey

Dear Elmer,

You don’t say! You are listing to a TV ministry service program.

EL, WHERE SHOUTING IS COMMON! Turn down the volume every time you hear a jingle or see a new fangled thing, and, SEND YOUR TITHE TO ME YOU HEAR ME? .

John.

Dear John: Will learning to juggle increase my chances with the ladies? Steve, Lonesome in Bethalto

Dear lonesome Steve:

That you even have to ask is evidence that you are hopeless with “the ladies.” I doubt if it’s your lack of carnival skills hurting you the most, my uncoordinated friend.

John

Dear John:

What’s the second best way to ask your boss for a raise? Mike Y

E. Alton

Dear Mike: What’s with the Y?

The best way for you to ask your boss for a raise is to build

a time machine, go back in time, fix all of your stupid mistakes, and start making good, responsible choices while being nice and respectful to your fellow workers. This might also work with your former friends.

John

Dear John:

T have a receding hairline, but only on the right side of my head. People say it makes me look unique, but I have become quite anxious about it. Should I shave the other side to match? Shave it all off or wear a selection of hats?

Paul

Dear Paul: I would definitely go with the hat. May I suggest a ski mask? Or a fez? John

Dear John: I’ve been a smoker for thirty five years. I would like to silence those nitties who are always obnoxiously preaching to me about cancer and coughing every time I light up. Is there a not a-healthy,- but equally-annoying habit I could pick up that’d allow me to live longer while continuing to piss off the right people? Thanks for your help. Kim and Bill (we have the same problem

Dear Kim and Bill: Join the Republican Party. Do what they tell you. You’re welcome, John.

L -) ahbeuant Wa VG

When I was making a decision about my marriage, I went to my birth home area in deep southern Illinois and into a woods where my dad often took me and a brother and sister or two with him to hunt for morel mushrooms, a favorite venture for us. Dad knew the woods and was always confident of finding rooms there and wanted to teach his kids how to find them.

He said to walk slowly, quietly and with a purpose and focus on the shape and color of a mushroom. He also said that when we found one to stop and look at it carefully and all around it for others, as they often grew in groups. We did. When we saw one our excitement increased and we often found several mushrooms close by. One day our little group found more than a hundred morels.

The day I went to the woods I was thinking of dad and a time long ago. It was a bright soft day and the quietness, and delightful smell of the woods awakened my senses. I sat on the same stump where my dad had sat years ago and thought of his kindness and the care he had of nature and of us kids.

I must have sat on that stump for upwards of an hour going over thoughts of my past and present situation. The decision would change my life. My mind cleared and my purpose there was to make a decision. I would end my over 22 years of marriage. I felt confident, yet sad, but believed the decision was right. I was thankful for the quietness and focus of a problem that needed solving. ,

Dad was having health issues when I later visited him. I told him that I was getting a divorce. He said, “You made the right decision”. He did not elaborate, but his continence was strong and he reassured me that I could move on with my life. I thanked him quietly.

: alot 2 (VE making 2 teens! “4

When I was making a decision about my marriage, I went to my birth home area in deep southern Illinois and into a woods where my dad often took me and a brother and sister or two with him to hunt for morel mushrooms, a favorite venture for us. Dad knew the woods and was always confident of finding rooms there and wanted to teach his kids how to find them.

He said to walk slowly, quietly and with a purpose and focus on the shape and color of amushroom. He also said that when we found one to stop and look at it carefully and all around it for others, as they often grew in groups. We did. When we saw one our excitement increased and we often found several mushrooms close by. One day our little group found more than a hundred morels.

The day I went to the woods I was thinking of dad and a time long ago. It was a bright soft day and the quietness, and delightful smell of the woods awakened my senses. I sat on the same stump where my dad had sat years ago and thought of his kindness and the care he had of nature and of us kids.

I must have sat on that stump for upwards of an hour going over thoughts of my past and present situation. The decision would change my life. My mind cleared and my purpose there was to make a decision. I would end my over 22 years of marriage. I felt confident, yet sad, but believed the decision was right. I was thankful for the quietness and focus of a problem that needed solving.

Dad was having health issues when I later visited him. I told him that I was getting a divorce. He said, “You made the right decision”. He did not elaborate, but his continence was strong and he reassured me that I could move on with my life. I thanked him quietly.

The original page will appear here.

declutter sale ————plates, dishes, bowls ——————————- today____

The original page will appear here.

Declutter I have been involved in decluttering for the past few months. I pitched a lot, donated some, and purchased a few items. It looks better, is easy to clean and adds joy. My challenge is having hope during these worrisome times. I believe that integrity, knowledge, being humble and giving my best provides hope. To all of my family, and friends and kind strangers, teachers, medics, and writers, thinkers, and chatter boxes, and YOU. Thank you.

dishes and pantry items. I have one good set of ugly china and a mixture of coffee cups. Pots and pans are stored in the lower pantry along with cereals and potatoes. My fridge is usually half full with stuff, including cheese, salsa, relishes and a carton of milk and juice. Most of the time there is fresh produce, and a carton of ice cream in it. I keep an assortment of pills in the frig and usually take them daily. Coffee is my breakfast with an occasional English muffin with honey. I hardly ever cook a meal anymore at the house and the two small grills have never been used. Did I say I weigh about what I did in high school. Is that a good thing? Even my old clothes fit and my shoe size stays the same. I weigh about 163 pounds.

The living room has a couch, one comfortable chair, three lamps, four tables and a TV stand. A large painting of a Zebra hangs on one wall and two small pictures are on other walls. The TV is on a table

In a corner near a window. A green bookcase with a few odds and ends is located on a short wall.

The lamps are larger than they should be and obviously were not designer ones for any décor. It looks like a hodge podge to me. Two pillows serve as floor cushions. A circular black coffee table is next to the blue couch. Beige Berber carpet is throughout the house, except the kitchen and bath.

The back bedroom was set up to be my reading and writing room, but it is seldom used. A bookcase sets in one corner and a gun case sets in another. A big chair and several boxes and filing cabinets are in this room. The closet is full of winter clothing, jackets, coats, and long sleeve shirts. The upper shelf has blankets and some other stuff. This room is not handsome at all. I have never read or written in here.

There are four windows in the house; one in the living room and kitchen and one each in each bedroom. These windows are usually open wide to let in the country air. The house faces east and the sun is beautiful to see on most mornings. A cornfield hides the sun for a few minutes during the summer mornings.

This house brought Debbie to me, I know it. How? I didn’t like it and immediately after moving there, I began going out every night. I just didn’t want to stay at home. I went out to eat and often to have a beer or five before heading back to Moro. I just hated the place even though it was a nice place to live and as comfortable as any apartment. I’m not going into the Debbie thing now, but I know if the place was where I wanted to be, I would never have met her.

I will not buy another thing for the house. The last purchase was for switch covers to replace the ugly country scenes. I had planned on new window treatments, better furniture and lamps.

This bit of writing has engaged me for almost an hour and I am waiting for a phone call from a client on two commercial building I have just seen. The combined price is about one million dollars and that may fit his investment needs. I have perhaps three clients looking for buildings along our busy Rt. 157. My mind keeps switching to Debbie and I try to push it out. Busy fingers are not completely blocking out hurting thoughts.

i know what i am: boring. Liive in boring Moro. Debbie lives in St. Louis. Wow, did we have fun this summer in Illinois and in Missouri — also Florida. More about that sometime when I want to write about her. She’s gone. I want to be gone too.

T have tried to find a counseling agency today and have asked several people. Professional counseling may be what I need right now.

Tam about to cry now and rapid reflections course through my mind. I didn’t see it coming. Why? Was I so vain?

decluttering Every day I plan to put some item at the tree on the NE corner of Bluff and Mamie. They will be free. If they are not gone in one day, they will go away. The next day something else will be there. I’m hopeful it will take only a few days to declutter enough.

Write a plan that includes time limits. Expect it to be revised and stretched. Don’t consider it a whole-house process either, it might be aroom or two. Keep at it though once you start.

Asking friends or family to help you is marginally OK. A professional may cost you some change but you can disagree with them, they expect it. Your friends might not.

A money plan may be a good idea. It may guide you on how quickly you want to be finished or which part of your quarters get your earliest attention.

Soft goods are a suggested way to start; clothes, shoes, bedding, pillows, and drapes. You don’t need much advice here because most soft goods can be given away rather than storing them, or putting them in a crazy yard sale sometime in the future.

Consider staging your quarters, or part ofit. Staging, to me, is rearranging and /or storing stuff. It’s common when selling a home. too much stuff might distract from the features of a home. Decluttering is, to me, getting rid of stuff.

It is suggested that you make three categories. 1): Keep 8) throw away or give away; and 3) Store/review later. Make a place for them. Use a box, a bag, or a tag.

START. After breakfast is a good time. Sit down and look at one room only.(with your professional if you elected to use one). Each of you should make notes. Consider everything: lighting, ceilings, walls, drapes, pictures, art, floors, doors, – knick knacks. ETC.

After you have finished evaluating the room and making notes. Go to another room and repeat the process. Don’t hurry. You may get through one or two rooms only with the time you have allotted.

Review notes with each other.

Write a plan that includes time limits. Expect it to be revised and stretched. Don’t consider it a whole-house process either, it might be a room or two. Keep at it though once you start. Asking friends or family to help you is marginally OK. A professional may cost you some change but you can disagree with them, they expect it. Your friends might not. A money plan may be a good idea. It may guide you on how quickly you want to be finished or which part of your quarters get your earliest attention. Soft goods are a suggested way to start; clothes, shoes, bedding, pillows, and drapes. You don’t need much advice here because most soft goods can be given away rather than storing them, or putting them in a crazy yard sale sometime in the future. Consider staging your quarters, or part of it. Staging, to me, is rearranging and /or storing stuff. It’s common when selling a home. too much stuff might distract from the features of a home. Decluttering is, to me, getting rid of stuff. It is suggested that you make three categories. 1): Keep 2) throw away or give away; and 3) Store/review later. Make a place for them. Use a box, a bag, or a tag. START. After breakfast is a good time. Sit down and look at one room only.(with your professional if you elected to use one). Each of you should make notes. Consider everything: lighting, ceilings, walls, drapes, pictures, art, floors, doors, – knick knacks. ETC. After you have finished evaluating the room and making notes. Go to another room and repeat the process. Don’t hurry. You may get through one or two rooms only with the time you have allotted. Review notes with each other.

Decluttering is working for me. I’ve been at it quite a while and am nearing a time I’m close to ending this phase of decluttering.

The landlord CI will not refer to him by name) prefers to have noting to do with me it seems. A solvable issue came up and I called him to discuss in person rather than phone. That’s been quite some time ago.

Prior to that I mentioned that a rear window was not working and needed to be replaced or repaired. He has not responded. I have killed a dozen or so wasps (black wing and/or boring wasps) and today put up a window screen to ward off them off. Two years ago The tenant in the Lower apartment accused me of causing a wasp to sting her. There was a small wasp nest over her rear door, on a window pane next to her stairs to down stairs and two nests below her two windows in the rear of her apartment. I don’t train wasps, but wish I did.

He mows when grass and weeds are high. He’s finished in fifteen minutes. He doesn’t pick up debris or clippings or limbs.

I’m going to buy a snow blower. A neighbor has volunteered to help me and I’11 take him up on that.

I have ordered new tires for traction in the snow. The old tires are not dangerous, but are nearing their end.

I’m looking for a car cover and have a friend who believes she can find one that fits my small car.

Decluttering is working for me. I’ve been at it quite a while and am nearing a time I’m close to ending this phase of decluttering. The landlord (I will not refer to him by name) prefers to have noting to do with me it seems. A solvable issue came up and I called him to discuss in person rather than phone. That’s been quite some time ago. Prior to that I mentioned that a rear window was not working and needed to be replaced or repaired. He has not responded. I have killed a dozen or so wasps (black wing and/or boring wasps) and today put up a window screen to ward off them off. Two years ago The tenant in the lower apartment accused me of causing a wasp to sting her. There was a small wasp nest over her rear door, on a window pane next to her stairs to down stairs and two nests below her two windows in the rear of her apartment. I don’t train wasps, but wish I did. He mows when grass and weeds are high. He’s finished in fifteen minutes. He doesn’t pick up debris or clippings or limbs. I’m going to buy a snow blower. A neighbor has volunteered to help me and I’ll take him up on that. I have ordered new tires for traction in the snow. The old tires are not dangerous, but are nearing their end. I’m looking for a car cover and have a friend who believes she can find one that fits my small car.

The last several months I have been involved in decluttering my apartment, throwing away some stuff, giving away most of the extra items, or storing keepable stuff. I’m 95% finished. It not only looks better, it keeps me from tinkering and moving stuff around like a beadle pushing dirt. Benefit: less anxiety, makes cleaning better, looks good. Calms me. I have a few bouts with pain and discomfort. Primarily, bowels, stomach. I get headaches – frontal – (tylenol) Miralax seems to help. I don’t sleep well at times. I think it is about stress and anxiety. I am impatient at times and can not seem to relax. I go to bed early – before nine and wake during the night often and don’’t return to deep sleep easily. I get up early most days. 7 ish, rarely longer. I have a timer on my phone and watch phone to remind me to take pills. Still, I seem to shut it off before seeking pills. I have increased my calories just a bit. My goal per day is two thousand a day. I have eaten meat, chicken, soups, stews, fish, pasta. I watch salt, fat, sugars. ‘Coffee is a question. I like a cup at least. I have drank wine a bit more and like a glass to two a day. I have avoided white liquor and hard liquor. I do like a gin and tonic and proved it was tough on me one day after two strong pours the night before.

As | was decluttering basement items – goal to have all or most of my things removed. | looked at the items that the landlord has stored in the basement. | also looked at the floor area.

He stores in the basement

seven bicycles (one of them is mine, | think.)

A grill

Two clothes dryers – May tag – Westinghouse

A wood cooler – lined (neat item)

Wheel barrow

used tires

hubcaps

large ladders

medium ladder

metal tubs – four

two lawn mowers

A board game ???

a lamp without a shade

used furniture

Large globe lamps (used for night games of baseball games?) chains

metal pipes

several false teeth

wire screens for windows when the porch was used for family needs bales of wire

A old wringer washing machine

A metal framed two person rocker with plastic cushions

left over paint, etc.

stacks of tools, weights, forks, planters,

wood chairs

nails, concrete mix, floor sweep, brushes

A large compressor and electric cord

large canvass floor covering for areas he was working on used when tim blasted the crumbling support rocks

and applied concrete mud, sealer – He used a full mask, a helmet,

At the few steps at the lower level of the basement are leaves, dirt and debris, and broken pieces of concrete.

At the base of the steps from upstairs there is a large area where boring bees have deposited an enormous amount of excrement. Bushels of it. Some of the bees have bored in several areas in the walls along the corner of the house. They don’t sting, I’ve heard.

| believe the basement presents a health hazard. The dust, crumbling rock, rust, bee do, may cause sneezing, coughing, shortness of breath, stinging eyes

Is there a way to determine if the basement is a health hazard. An inspection, measuring devices, samples submitted for evaluation, study, etc.

| plan only to do laundry and remove 100% of my goods.

| am embarrassed on how my apartment looks and have covered or ignored a lot of things. | know where the problems are and | think | compromise with clutter too often. I’m trying to correct some of that. | simply can not give up and accept things as they are.

| can not expect my landlord to change and become a benevolent person who is understanding and cognizant of what needs to be done to make his building safe. He may not be capable, but | think that’s not why he brushes off ideas and solutions.

Jean is not my ally either. She harbors hate and complains to the wind, or anyone who will listen to her.

I’m going to declutter my bedroom – A chest of drawers, a dresser, a bed frame and amirror. They are in excellent condition but very heavy. I’11 down size.

I have four antique trunks. Two of them I’11 keep and may sell one or both of the other trunks. I believe I can store seasonal clothes in the trunks and what is now in the chest and dresser can be used for all of the china, dishes, glass, etc in the corner hutch in the dining room. I would also like to sell the solid oak dinning table and four chairs.

I’m willing to part with my old fashioned barber chair. The chair is at least 6@ years old and is in perfect condition. Both are conversation pieces and when I had company or a family member they enjoyed them. The heavy coffee table can go. I have four antique chests that I use for writings, odds and ends, my hobby material, and seasonal clothes. I can part with two trunks.

Closet space and the pantry have received attention. I can pitch some of the stuff.

The tiny kitchen is a chore to keep clean and clear of things. I’ve asked for consideration to update and would foot the cost if someone would put in a hard service, easy to clean counter top and the small floor. I’m about to tackle this too.

The porch is a heaven for me and I use it all the time. Morning coffee and twilight are terrific times to be there. I Love storms and like to seen them roll in.

I painted the porch a couple of times and scraped and wire brushed the floor. The railing is 3@ inches tall and I know it’s not in code. The Landlord patched a

I’m going to declutter my bedroom – A chest of drawers, a dresser, a bed frame and a mirror. They are in excellent condition but very heavy. I’ll down size. I have four antique trunks. Two of them I’ll keep and may sell one or both of the other trunks. I believe I can store seasonal clothes in the trunks and what is now in the chest and dresser can be used for all of the china, dishes, glass, etc in the corner hutch in the dining room. I would also like to sell the solid oak dinning table and four chairs. I’m willing to part with my old fashioned barber chair. The chair is at least 60 years old and is in perfect condition. Both are conversation pieces and when I had company or a family member they enjoyed them. The heavy coffee table can go. I have four antique chests that I use for writings, odds and ends, my hobby material, and seasonal clothes. I can part with two trunks. Closet space and the pantry have received attention. I can pitch some of the stuff. The tiny kitchen is a chore to keep clean and clear of things. I’ve asked for consideration to update and would foot the cost if someone would put in a hard service, easy to clean counter top and the small floor. I’m about to tackle this too. The porch is a heaven for me and I use it all the time. Morning coffee and twilight are terrific times to be there. I love storms and like to seen them roll in. I painted the porch a couple of times and scraped and wire brushed the floor. The railing is 30 inches tall and I know it’s not in code. The landlord patched a

Consider the following: Get a good step stool. Wash/paint shelves Do not use the top shelf in the pantry to store items, food or stuff. Review the pantry. organize foods. Separate herbs, spices, ingredients, cans and bottles. Determine what pots, pans, skillets, etc that are used most often. Rather than store them, give them away or sell them. Cut back on duplicates – Corner hutch – cull the dishes, plates, bowls, etc. – ones that are seldom used. Keep what you like and give or sell the others, Glasses, cups, mugs, – sort and discard seldom used ones. Keep the trunks. They look nice and hold items you like out of sight. Consider keeping only a few long sleeved shirts that you really like and give the others away. Same with pants. Same with jackets, sweaters, pull overs, shoes, gloves, scarves, ties, The Declutter lady loved my apartment and commented on it as being clean, colorful, well decorated and comfortable. Decluttering just a bit will make it even better and easier to take care of. john 1/17/22 Once you declutter a room, closet, an area, don’t continue to tinker and change things. You are trying to minimize so that you can do other things.

I knew decluttering would change me. Dropping habits – rock painting, a flower garden, feeding birds and squirrels, and writing. It might also make me concentrate on health issues, relationships, finding new interests and playing golf again. I cut back on internet and disregarded trivia posts and politics. I remained distanced from my siblings. That disappoints me. My counselor, Kren, expects my next visit with her might be the last for a while, or until I ask for a visit. She maintains that writing is an excellent way to explain feelings, and help me deal with anxiety and stress. I’m currently exploring writing about my hero. Also Weird Alton and it’s reputation of being haunted.

| knew decluttering would change me. Dropping habits – rock painting, a flower garden, feeding birds and squirrels, and writing. It might also make me concentrate on health issues, relationships, finding new interests and playing golf again.

| cut back on internet and disregarded trivia posts and politics. | remained distanced from my siblings. That disappoints me.

My counselor, Kren, expects my next visit with her might be the last for a while, or until | ask for a visit. She maintains that writing is an excellent way to explain feelings, and help me deal with anxiety and stress.

I’m currently exploring writing about my hero. Also Weird Alton and it's reputation of being haunted.

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. ew 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.

I believe Democrats try to unite people. I believe Republicans want a one-party rule

Democrats tend to protest Republicans tend to riot

Democrats are concerned about the earth and science Climate change, air-quality – water quality.

Republicans don’t protect the earth. They choose jobs over preservation of fossil fuel, oil, coal, timber, ice

Democrats are more educated, prudent, cultured, readers Republicans – less educated, reaction rather than analyze

Democrats want strong image, personal values, character, reason Republicans, act before thinking, speak before knowing, intimidate

Trump: Racist, Sexist, Demands loyalty, Blames, swaggers, brags – boasts Mocks, Self first, challenges, rants, repeats words, glares, poses, struts, “In the history, “ points, waves, gestures, Gait is poor. He is a coward. chest thumper, jabs, tries to be brave, gives false numbers, alters reports, threatens, \

THIS DESCRIBES TRUMP – TO ME. BRAGGADOCIOUS CAN’T DELIVER ON PROMISES BELIEVES HE IS A VICTIM

The original page will appear here.

DNA Papers Written sometime in the late 90’s — the last century.

I try not to get too close to someone until I get to know them. Is this too cautious? Yes!

Not getting near someone until we get to know them makes relationships difficult. Not getting close when we do know them is even worse. When I risk and reach out, | have relationships. I’m early in my recovery, but that doesn’t mean I have to be early to risk.

I don’t know what's going on with me.

I seem to be numb.

1 am not feeling upset, angry, sad, or fearful.

Wait a minute — do you think this is what some “normal” people call contentment?

When we are trying to be peacocks, we should probably Check to see how many peahens that are around who might be interested. One thing for sure, there are plenty of turkeys.

There are so many roads to whimpdom; niceness, people pleasing, silence and fear. I have never been to a Chicken Shit Anonymous meeting.

I'ma candidate, but afraid to go.

1 was scared to put myself out there. “Show & Tell” is a relief.

Recovering is not so bad. It’s like walking backward through syrup Up to your crotch with your ankles tied.

Being unconscious is great for sleeping, but it’s not to effective living. Somehow I came to believe that if I just didn’t see or feel What was going on in my life, it wasn’t happening.

I have been focusing on others and not myself. I am advanced in victim skills. One thing I can do is to take ownership of my life and quit volunteering for victim. I know how to do victim.

Perhaps the title to this ditty should be “CHICKEN SHIT ANONYMOUS” – You don’t have to come to meetings if you belong here.

DNA Papers Written sometime in the late 90’s — the last century.

I try not to get too close to someone until I get to know them. Is this too cautious? Yes!

Not getting near someone until we get to know them makes relationships difficult. Not getting close when we do know them is even worse. When I risk and reach out, I have relationships. I’m early in my recovery, but that doesn’t mean I have to be early to risk.

I don’t know what’s going on with me.

I seem to be numb.

1 am not feeling upset, angry, sad, or fearful.

Wait a minute ~ do you think this is what some “normal” people call contentment?

When we are trying to be peacocks, we should probably Check to see how many peahens that are around who might be interested. One thing for sure, there are plenty of turkeys.

There are so many roads to whimpdom; niceness, people pleasing, silence and fear. T have never been to a Chicken Shit Anonymous meeting.

I'm a candidate, but afraid to go.

1 was scared to put myself out there. “Show & Tell” is a relief.

Recovering is not so bad. It’s like walking backward through syrup Up to your crotch with your ankles tied.

Being unconscious is great for sleeping, but it’s not to effective living. Somehow I came to believe that if [ just didn’t see or feel What was going on in my life, it wasn’t happening.

I have been focusing on others and not myself. I am advanced in victim skills. One thing I can do is to take ownership of my life and quit volunteering for victim. I know how to do victim.

Perhaps the title to this ditty should be “CHICKEN SHIT ANONYMOUS” – You don’t have to come to meetings if you belong here.

F . Do you believe Donald Trump is above the law? G. Do you believe Donald Trump is a man of tact, intelligent, and thinks of every one before he thinks of his own welfare? H. Do you think if you give maximum amount you can that Trump will appreciate you more than someone who gives the maximum of their budget? I’m almost finished with my own rant about Trump and the Republicans who bow to him. The solicitor survey is laced with dumbing, numbing attacks. It is not intended to get your opinion on how to act and make a positive change, it is to keep dividing everyone. And send money. Trump and his paid help like to keep bamboozling everyone. The ranks with names and terminology that says noting and everything except the human feel of events. Void of empathy and compassion, Trump lashes out in a tirade of hate and rhetoric against anyone, planting fear and dread that followers will be singled out and their careers dashed in a moment of Trump’s rage. They shrink and say nothing. Trump calls it loyalty.

1 Do you believe Donald Trump lied when he said the Co Vid 19 Virus was like the flu and would soon go away? 2 Do you know how many miles was built as a border wall by the administration of Donald Trump? Do you know the cost of the wall to America? Is it a 25 Billion Dollar project? Did Mexico pay for all, none, or some of the costs? 3 Do you know that the plan to increase the minimum wage to $15.00 is based over five years? Do you know that California has a minimum wage of $l4.50? Do you know that each state has a minimum wage? 4 Do you believe Donald Trump defies common sense and refuses to wear a mask and often held rallies that a mask was not required? 5 Do you know how often Donald Trump has exercised his Pardon of convicted criminals? 6 Do you know if Donald Trump is a member of any religion? 7 Do you believe all Democrats are weak and dishonest? 8 Do you believe that Donald Trump actually received more votes than Biden in the presidential election and had a right to demand that the election reverse their decision and make him President? Do you believe Climate control is ridiculous and there is no such thing as climate change? A. How much of Donald Trump’s own money was used to pay a claim by Stormy D. Was it from campaign funds? B. Do you believe Donald Trump received five deferments to be inducted into the military during the Vietnam War? C. Do you believe Donald Trump has declared bankruptcy six times? D. Do you believe the Rose Garden (Jackie Kennedy’s idea) was ditched by Melanie Trump and made into a grass area where more people could attend a rally for Trump? E. Do you believe Military forts for training men and women should be named after Confederate men who wanted to end the nation and create their own country with the continuation of slaves?

doctor visit on Jan 21, 2013 my appetite is strong, and I eat regularly and try to be healthy, but i don't gain weight. Why? can I eat lean meat? Pasta? Pizza, chili, stews, bread, butter, dairy, candy, chocolate, cookies, cereal, meat loaf, chicken. crackers, jelly, pretzels,

what foods should I avoid? I use sub salt, 2% milk, decaf coffee, whole wheat bread. Usually there is a salad with meals. Alcohol: can I drink a glass of wine, a bottle of beer, or liquor? In a week I may have two beers and after 1/2 it tastes less good. same with wine. I have had 2-3 small mixed drinks over a three hr period. Sat, I get hungry often and crave food. I keep apples, oranges, grapes, grapefruit with me all of the time. is there better snack foods for me? I seldom eat all that's on my plate, yet soon after I feel hungry. Yesterday I had a large buffalo fish sandwich with fried potatoes and ate hearty. I wake up hungry. Today I had oatmeal with almonds and a grapefruit. I had a cup of tea. I feel good. I feel that medicine affects me negatively at times. I take it when I think of it and not by a schedule. If I miss a pill it is the one before bedtime. I fall asleep quickly, but will have wake up periods. I get up early and don't get cranked up quickly. I don't feel bloated, but I have more gas / flatuance than normal, Sex. would it be a problem? Cialias or Viagra? Testrostrone? can I take energy pills? What can I expect for life expectancy? How much and what kind of exercise is good / bad for me? I feel stress – a sick brother, a sick friend, money, deadlines, long drives, loud noises, I like bright light My eyesight has worsened in the last year. I believe I am virtually pain free, but now and then I feel sluggish.

Doodles are actually sexist. Males draw angry things with teeth, big ears, and blood-shot eyes and machine guns firing bullets. Meanwhile if you look at doodles belonging to a female — any female — you will find stars, a happy face, some hearts, sometimes filled with smaller hearts. That’s it in a nutshell. Oh, females also doodle their name over and over again, with hearts all over it.

No one believes they will get old, until they are. I would like to say you make better decisions as you age, but you often don’t. Old people even confuse pajamas with underwear. There are a few exceptions. Only old people are described as “active’.

The real benefit of getting married is enhanced survival…

Forget individuality. More people would rather be around twenty people who are decent and boring than have to deal with one unique butthole all the time. I rest my case.

People who cheer loudly at ball games irritate the hell out of me. Imagine all the energy (and paint) they use rooting for people who don’t give a damn.

Just because it’s for a good cause doesn’t make it good. Forced fed philanthropy is not the way to make you feel good.

A night in jail does not harden you. Just about everyone I know has spent at least one night in jail. It trumps everything else shy of a moon walk I guess, about teaching you something you will never forget. It shows you how much you don’t want to be in jail. You will be a better person for at least two weeks.

Yogurt is not food. I didn’t eat it as a child. I didn’t hear of that crap until I was 40. I'd rather have pudding or Jell-O.

Tattoos are useful. They act as an identifiable marker for people you wish to avoid. They’re saying, “Stay the hell away from me.”

Nostalgia sucks. The trick of nostalgia is making you think you liked the crap you did when you were growing up. You weren’t paying any attention to the things that you think you are missing now. You remember past events more positively than reality.

Doodles are actually sexist. Males draw angry things with teeth, big ears, and blood-shot eyes and machine guns firing bullets. Meanwhile if you look at doodles belonging to a female —any female — you will find stars, a happy face, some hearts, sometimes filled with smaller hearts. That’s it in a nutshell. Oh, females also doodle their name over and over again, with hearts all over it.

No one believes they will get old, until they are. I would like to say you make better decisions as you age, but you often don’t. Old people even confuse pajamas with underwear. There are a few exceptions. Only old people are described as “active’.

The real benefit of getting married is enhanced survival…

Forget individuality. More people would rather be around twenty people who are decent and boring than have to deal with one unique butthole all the time. I rest my case.

People who cheer loudly at ball games irritate the hell out of me. Imagine all the energy (and paint) they use rooting for people who don’t give a damn.

Just because it’s for a good cause doesn’t make it good. Forced fed philanthropy is not the way to make you feel good.

A night in jail does not harden you. Just about everyone I know has spent at least one night in jail. It trumps everything else shy of a moon walk I guess, about teaching you something you will never forget. It shows you how much you don’t want to be in jail. You will be a better person for at least two weeks.

Yogurt is not food. I didn’t eat it as a child. I didn’t hear of that crap until I was 40. I’d rather have pudding or Jell-O.

Tattoos are useful. They act as an identifiable marker for people you wish to avoid. They’re saying, “Stay the hell away from me.”

Nostalgia sucks. The trick of nostalgia is making you think you liked the crap you did when you were growing up. You weren’t paying any attention to the things that you think you are missing now. You remember past events more positively than reality.

news. Doctor Boyer said that we could skip the test and make it up later, but I took the exam, made an A (and a B for the course because of it), and spent the rest of the weekend watching TV of the Dallas tragedy. I asked several passengers if they too remembered the event and each gave an exact account of what they were doing when they heard that Kennedy was assassinated, THIS IS WHY I TOOK THIS TRAIN.

A little nap did not refresh me, but the peeking sun has. The temperature has gone up and my mock turtle neck pullover heats me up. I see a few golfers exercising their pull carts on the first golf course I’ve seen on the trip.

I saw a cowboy when the train stopped at Temple, Texas. He boarded the train and his only carry on luggage was a saddle that he reluctantly handed to the bagger compartment trainman. The cowboy had tucked his jeans into colorful boots and he walked with an easy gait through the rocking train aisle. He wasn't tall and may have a bit of Mexican blood in him. He is a sharp contrast to the two pale skinned young Amish men wearing light blue plain shirts tucked into pocket less denim trousers. The Amish men are potato farmers who live in Ontario, Canada. They are heading for Belize along with their family that includes their father, mother, two sisters, and maybe a wife of the oldest of the young men. Their trip will be more than 2,000 miles. I'll ask them many questions along the way and they seemed pleased to have someone to talk to about their culture.

I have seen a Christmas tree farm. I’ve seen increasingly large herds of cattle in large fields. Still we can’t get away from the junk yards, tin roofs and yellow paint on buildings and homes. I haven't seen a single car wash in any of the small towns we've passed. I’m expecting to see a Confederate flag any minute. I have seen a fresh opened grave in a small cemetery with short stones. No doubt that there will be a burial there this afternoon, this is not Catholic country.

I relaxed the rest of the train trip and enjoyed a visit with an interesting sportsman, hunter, fisherman and teacher from Michigan. My brother and sister in law will met me at the station in Austin soon and we'll be off to more adventure and fun in Texas.

John Casey 1/26/10

My dream last night (or early morning) was about a happy golf game with many of my friends and former friends. "Let's play" they seemed to say (no words that I recall). I woke up happy. It was exceptional.

No crying for me today. I'm not sad. Hagar, a great dog, lived five happy years and shared some of his time with me. I'll keep his happiness. I may not have five years ahead of me, but I need to adopt an attitude of living happier.

I've let death affect me way too much. That has to stop as long as I'm alive.

You deal with stuff or it deals with you.

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."

Ego is a motivator too.

I feel a depth to my life. I’m no imposter pretending to be me. I’m not confusing and don’t cover up the world with words and labels. Words will never explain who you are. Yes, I like words and find enjoyment and beauty in them as themselves. John is a word only, and I like the sound of it, but have learned to know me. I like the meaning and value of everyone and everything.

The word most used is “I” followed by “me,” “mine,” and “myself.” This is the ego that started long ago. When “my” toy broke “I” was sad because the toy was part of the sense of self, of “I.” I would find another toy and on and on I developed.

A shift has occurred and a deeper perspective has emerged from thinking to awareness. Automatic thinking is the connection between conscious and unconscious.

Designer labels are collective identities. These “identity enhancers” are exclusive and come with physiological value. The only way an ego mind operates. When we keep looking for more and keep buying, for short-lived ego satisfaction it’s a “progress is more” kind of thinking. But more does not really satisfy me. The things that are not “mine” have become important. A “way” of life (with aspirations guiding me) is more important than goals that constantly need to be reset.

When things are let go of will I be less? Has who I am become diminished? Don’t think, feel the answer. You can value and care for things, but when you get attached to them it’s the ego. It isn’t wrong to be proud of one’s possessions. That sense of pride and needing to standout is neither right nor wrong. Like, when you have more/less than someone, it is the ego working? When you observe the ego in yourself, you're beginning to go beyond it. Don’t take your ego too seriously. It isn’t personal. It isn’t who you are.

“It’s mine, it’s ours, my land, my Country and on and on,” signify ego centering. When/as we die don’t we want to give away our “personal things” and our “valuables?” We are no longer attaching things to us as our being. We can not give away our selves.

Ego identity applies when how you are seen by others become the mirror that tells you what you are like and who you are. Look through this delusion. Close your eyes and you can still see who you are – you feel who you are. After a while you won’t need to cover your eyes. 11/05/05

I feel a depth to my life. I’m no imposter pretending to be me. I’m not confusing and don’t cover up the world with words and labels. I like words and find enjoyment and beauty in them. John is a word only, and I like the sound of it, but have learned to know me.

The word most used is “I” followed by “me,” “mine,” and “myself.” This is the ego that started long ago. When “my” toy broke “I” was sad because the toy was part of the sense of self, of “I.” 1 would find another toy and on and on I developed. A shift has occurred and a deeper perspective has emerged from thinking to awareness.

Designer labels are collective identities. These “identity enhancers” are exclusive and come with physiological value. The only way an ego mind operates. When we keep looking for more and keep buying. For short-lived ego satisfaction it’s a “progress is more” kind of thinking. A “way” of life with aspirations guiding me is more important than goals that constantly need to be reset.

When things are let go of will I be less? You can value and care for things, but when you get attached to them it’s the ego. It isn’t wrong to be proud of one’s possessions. That sense of pride and needing to standout is neither right nor wrong. When you observe the ego in yourself, you’re beginning to go beyond it. Don’t take your ego too seriously. It isn’t personal. It isn’t who you are. “It’s mine, it’s ours, my land, my Country and on and on,” signify ego centering.

Ego identity applies when how you are seen by others become the mirror that tells you what you are like and who you are.

I’m somewhat cultured, clean, clever, and chivalrous, but I’m also rough and tumble and not fragile. I drink red wine now and then and consider sharp cheddar cheese, red grapes, crispy crackers and merlot a meal of sorts. I cook a variety of food from scratch, make good soup and fresh bread 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, golf shoes, dress shoes of black, tan, grey and brown, also fishing and hunting boots. There are no ego trophies or plaques on my walls. Interesting books are open, and there’s likely music playing when a game is not on. I do my laundry, iron my stuff, and run the vacuum. 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; 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?

I feel a depth to my life. I’m no imposter pretending to be me and do recognize the unconsciousness in me.

I’m not confusing and don’t cover up the world with words and labels. Words will never explain who you are. Yes, I like words and find enjoyment and beauty in them as themselves. John is a word only, and I like the sound of it, but have learned to know me.

The word most used is “I” followed by “me,” “mine,” and “myself.” This is the ego that started long ago. When “my” toy broke “I” was sad because the toy was part of the sense of self, of “I.” I would find another toy and on and on I developed. I was a boy, my father, my mother and my brothers and my sisters and what happened to them and me was part of my life.

A shift has occurred and a deeper perspective has emerged from thinking to awareness. As I saw my face in the mirror I laughed out loud. “Life isn’t as serious as my mind makes it out to be.”

Designer labels are collective identities. These “identity enhancers” are exclusive and come with physiological value. The only way an ego mind operates. Keep looking for more; keep buying, for short-lived ego satisfaction. “Progress is more” kind of thinking. But more does not really satisfy me. The things that are not “mine” have become important, like the stillness in me.

When things are let go of will I be less? Has who I am become diminished? Don’t think, feel the answer. Being alive is the joy of being. Being must be felt. You can value and care for things, but when you get attached to them it’s the ego. It isn’t wrong to be proud of one’s possessions. That sense of pride and needing to standout is neither right nor wrong. When things are measured, it is the ego working. When you observe the ego in yourself, you’re beginning to go beyond it. Don’t take your ego too seriously. It isn’t personal. It isn’t who you are.

North American Indians felt they belonged to the land, but that the land did not belong to them and so they lost it when the Europeans made them sign incomprehensible pieces of paper. “My land,” “My Country,” signify ego centering. When/as we die don’t we want to give away our “personal things” and our “valuables?” We are no longer attaching things to us as our being. We can not give away our selves.

Ego identity applies when how you are seen by others become the mirror that tells you what you are like and who you are. Look through this delusion. Close your eyes and you can still see who you are — you feel who you are. After a while you won’t need to cover your eyes.

11/05

Ego is a motivator too.

I feel a depth to my life. I’m no imposter pretending to be me. I’m not confusing and don’t cover up the world with words and labels. Words will never explain who you are. Yes, I like words and find enjoyment and beauty in them as themselves. John is a word only, and I like the sound of it, but have learned to know me. I like the meaning and value of everyone and everything.

The word most used is “I” followed by “me,” “mine,” and “myself.” This is the ego that started long ago. When “my” toy broke “I” was sad because the toy was part of the sense of self, of “I.” I would find another toy and on and on I developed.

A shift has occurred and a deeper perspective has emerged from thinking to awareness. Automatic thinking is the connection between conscious and unconscious.

Designer labels are collective identities. These “identity enhancers” are exclusive and come with physiological value. The only way an ego mind operates. When we keep looking for more and keep buying, for short-lived ego satisfaction it’s a “progress is more” kind of thinking. But more does not really satisfy me. The things that are not “mine” have become important. A “way” of life (with aspirations guiding me) is more important than goals that constantly need to be reset.

When things are let go of will I be less? Has who I am become diminished? Don’t think, feel the answer. You can value and care for things, but when you get attached to them it’s the ego. It isn’t wrong to be proud of one’s possessions. That sense of pride and needing to standout is neither right nor wrong. Like, when you have more/less than someone, it is the ego working? When you observe the ego in yourself, you're beginning to go beyond it. Don’t take your ego too seriously. It isn’t personal. It isn’t who you are.

“It’s mine, it’s ours, my land, my Country and on and on,” signify ego centering. When/as we die don’t we want to give away our “personal things” and our “valuables?” We are no longer attaching things to us as our being. We can not give away our selves.

Ego identity applies when how you are seen by others become the mirror that tells you what you are like and who you are. Look through this delusion. Close your eyes and you can still see who you are – you feel who you are. After a while you won’t need to cover your eyes. 11/05/05

EGO

I feel a depth to my life. I’m no imposter pretending to be me. I’m not confusing and don’t cover up the world with words and labels. I like words and find enjoyment and beauty in them. John is a word only, and I like the sound of it, but have learned to know me.

The word most used is “I” followed by “me,” “mine,” and “myself.” This is the ego that started long ago. When “my” toy broke “I” was sad because the toy was part of the sense of self, of “I.” I would find another toy and on and on I developed. A shift has occurred and a deeper perspective has emerged from thinking to awareness.

Designer labels are collective identities. These “identity enhancers” are exclusive and come with physiological value. The only way an ego mind operates. When we keep looking for more and keep buying. For short-lived ego satisfaction it’s a “progress is more” kind of thinking. A “way” of life with aspirations guiding me is more important than goals that constantly need to be reset.

When things are let go of will I be less? You can value and care for things, but when you get attached to them it’s the ego. It isn’t wrong to be proud of one’s possessions. That sense of pride and needing to standout is neither right nor wrong. When you observe the ego in yourself, you’re beginning to go beyond it. Don’t take your ego too seriously. It isn’t personal. It isn’t who you are. “It’s mine, it’s ours, my land, my Country and on and on,” signify ego centering.

Ego identity applies when how you are seen by others become the mirror that tells you what you are like and who you are.

I’m somewhat cultured, clean, clever, and chivalrous, but I’m also rough and tumble and not fragile. I drink red wine now and then and consider sharp cheddar cheese, red grapes, crispy crackers and Merlot a meal of sorts. I cook a variety of food from scratch, make good soup and fresh bread 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, golf shoes, dress shoes of black, tan, grey and brown, also fishing and hunting boots. There are no ego trophies or plaques on my walls. Interesting books are open, and there’s likely music playing when a game is not on. I do my laundry, iron my stuff, and run the vacuum. 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; 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?

EGO

I feel a depth to my life. I’m no imposter pretending to be me. I’m not confusing and don’t cover up the world with words and labels. I like words and find enjoyment and beauty in them. John is a word only, and I like the sound of it, but have learned to know me.

The word most used is “I” followed by “me,” “mine,” and “myself.” This is the ego that started long ago. When “my” toy broke “I” was sad because the toy was part of the sense of self, of “I.” I would find another toy and on and on I developed. A shift has occurred and a deeper perspective has emerged from thinking to awareness.

Designer labels are collective identities. These “identity enhancers” are exclusive and come with physiological value. The only way an ego mind operates. When we keep looking for more and keep buying. For short-lived ego satisfaction it’s a “progress is more” kind of thinking. A “way” of life with aspirations guiding me is more important than goals that constantly need to be reset.

When things are let go of will 1 be less? You can value and care for things, but when you get attached to them it’s the ego. It isn’t wrong to be proud of one’s possessions. That sense of pride and needing to standout is neither right nor wrong. When you observe the ego in yourself, you’re beginning to go beyond it. Don’t take your ego too seriously. It isn’t personal. It isn’t who you are. “It’s mine, it’s ours, my land, my Country and on and on,” signify ego centering.

Ego identity applies when how you are seen by others become the mirror that tells you what you are like and who you are.

I’m somewhat cultured, clean, clever, and chivalrous, but I’m also rough and tumble and not fragile. I drink red wine now and then and consider sharp cheddar cheese, red grapes, crispy crackers and merlot a meal of sorts. I cook a variety of food from scratch, make good soup and fresh bread 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, golf shoes, dress shoes of black, tan, grey and brown, also fishing and hunting boots. There are no ego trophies or plaques on my walls. Interesting books are open, and there’s likely music playing when a game is not on. I do my laundry, iron my stuff, and run the vacuum. 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; 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?

Dad hated democrats on Election Day, but he admitted some of them were good husbands and fathers some of the time. I suspect he believed @publicans made better husbands than@emocrats too.

Election Day was special in the(republican town of Tunnel Hill, IL and my dad believed the 70-90 votes actually cast could elect a Sheriff or a President. Funny, some of my friends, obviously democrats, believe Tunnel Hill was actually @emocratically controlled.

My father fretted and was excited on Election Day; relieved when the (republicans won, sad when they didn’t. I’m glad my dad did not cuss, drink or fight and could get up the day after Election Day, go to work and perform as well as he had the day before and come home the same person. Do@emocrats do this? I suspect they do.

Mom worked every Election Day. She got up early and left the house sometimes before one or more of her eight children awoke. Food was at the house and most of the kids fixed their own breakfast. But Election Day hamburgers would be my choice for lunch.

Hamburgers on buns were unheard of in Tunnel Hill, IL in the late 40’s and early 50’s. Mom probably made about $2.50 to $5.00 on Election Day, one of the only days she made real money. Hamburgers cost a quarter and you could get mustard, my favorite, ketchup and slices of pickles on a hamburger. I loaded mine. Mom would give me a quarter and within 30 or 40 seconds I would have it spent.

A 10 oz Pepsi cost a nickel and I had one of those.

That was it. One hamburger and back to where I had been before the carving and satisfaction was answered. I was not ashamed to almost beg for the hamburger, but my mom seemed happy to provide that for me.

Pork is wonderful and I love chicken every which way, but beef was rare to me as a youngster. The all beef Election Day hamburger — on a bun — tasted wonderful and better than any steak could ever taste.

Imay vote(republican and I may not tell you that a(démocrat can garner my

vote, but I can tell you I'll vote for a hamburger on Election Day.

John Casey 11-8-2001

Election Day Hanoburgers

Dad hated democrats on Election Day, but he admitted some of them were good husbands and fathers some of the time, I suspect he believed ¢2publicans made better husbands than@emocrats too.

Election Day was special in the&epublican town of Tunnel Hill, IL and my dad believed the 70-90 votes actually cast could elect a Sheriff or a President. Funny, some of my friends, obviously @emocrats, believe Tunnel Hill was actually @emocratically controlled.

My father fretted and was excited on Election Day; relieved when the (cépublicans won, sad when they didn’t. Pm glad my dad did not cuss, drink or fight and could get up the day after Election Day, go to work and perform as well as he had the day before and come home the same person. Do@émocrats do this? I suspect they do.

Mora worked every Election Day. She got up early and left the house sometimes before one or more of her eight children awoke. Food was at the house and most of the kids fixed their own breakfast, But Election Day hamburgers would be my choice for lunch,

Hamburgers on buns were unheard of in Tumnel Hill, OL im the late 40’s and early 50’s. Mom probably made about $2.50 to $5.00 on Election Day, one of the only days she made real money. Hamburgers cost a quarter and you could get mustard, my favorite, ketchup and slices of pickles on a hamburger. I loaded mine. Mom would give me a quarter and within 30 or 40 seconds I would have it spent.

A 10 oz Pepsi cost a nickel and I had one of these.

That was it. One hamburger and back to where I had been before the carving and satisfaction was answered. I was not ashamed to almost beg for the hamburger, but my mom seemed happy to provide that for me.

Pork is wonderful and I love chicken every which way, but beef was rare to ime as a youngster. The all beef Election Day hamburger — on a bun — fasted wonderful and better than any steak could ever taste.

Imay vote(fepublican and I may not tell you that a(dbmocrat can garner my

vote, but T can tell you Hl vote for a hamburger on Election Day.

John Casey 11-8-2001

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 | 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.

Energy:

When we are inwardly aligned we are able to move our energy more efficiently. It’s like straightening out a tangled hose. Once you remove the kinks water can flow through faster, but the hose itself is not the source of the water.

We were born with life energy. Our supply is finite. We supplement our energy with renewable energy that comes to us from the earth. We take it in with the food we eat and the air we breathe. Meditation or other means of activity help us to access it more efficiently and deliberately. We can also renew it through contact with nature.

Another source of renewal is the energy of other people. In a wholesome relationship there is a healthy balance – each gives energy to the other. Both parties come out ahead. We gravitate toward people who make us feel good and avoid people who deplete us.

Sometimes the energy going out through your thought center overwhelms impressions coming in through your heart center. When we look out, what we tend to perceive is not the world itself, but our own projections.

Our thinking is driven by will. First we must rouse energy and then to focus thought. The next thing we know, we’ve gotten a result. When all your energy is moving in the same direction you can transmit an exceptionally clear signal.

We are not comfortable being our own critic, and strongly resist critics, especially from our peers. We can be our own champion by applying the values to ourselves that we most admire in others. Because we accept our friends as they are and not with great expectations, we should also accept our imperfect selves.

282

Successful entrepreneurs have determination, presence of mind, and situational awareness. Add mutual caring, emotional commitment and tireless efforts to get things tight. The following three profiles are about such people. You many know them.

The original page will appear here.

Exotic Cats and other musings If house cats were your size they would eat you. It’s just their bad luck that they weigh only seven pounds. If you have a pet, you better be able to kick its furry ass.

No one would do yoga if they were never allowed to talk about doing yoga. Yoga is painted as a superior and soothing way to deal with stress. The positions you get into in yoga may be permanent.

The fact is if you tell someone you’re recovering from a head wound, they will never press you for proof.

We don’t need coffins. My suggestion is a nice sleeping bag. Coffins take up too much space no matter how ornate and they’re never going to see you or it again anyway.

“Narrow-minded” actually means smart; and open-minded means stupid. If you go by what you know and see with your own eyes clearly you are narrow-minded, and a bore. It’s far better to question everything by being open-minded. But, by allowing yourself to consider all options, you have no claim to truth. You never hear anyone say, “Who’s to say these mushrooms are bad for you?” (The open-minded approach).

Why, when a woman dumps a man he becomes a miserable loser? He is now consumed by the idea she’s the only woman on the planet meant for him. Funny, how that works. Women, if they knew this, would dump their guy every three months or so. Women won’t let a man get truly comfortable.

Women should never read in the bathroom. I’m pretty certain that only men should read in bathrooms. It’s common to see a man walking toward the bathroom with a sports page tucked under an arm, perhaps fearful that there’s no toilet paper after he has made the commitment to # 2.

Exotic Cats and other musings If house cats were your size they would eat you. It’s just their bad luck that they weigh only seven pounds. If you have a pet, you better be able to kick its furry ass.

No one would do yoga if they were never allowed to talk about doing yoga. Yoga is painted as a superior and soothing way to deal with stress. The positions you get into in yoga may be permanent.

The fact is if you tell someone you’re recovering from a head wound, they will never press you for proof.

We don’t need coffins. My suggestion is a nice sleeping bag. Coffins take up too much space no matter how ornate and they’re never going to see you or it again anyway.

“Narrow-minded” actually means smart; and open-minded means stupid. If you go by what you know and see with your own eyes clearly you are narrow-minded, and a bore. It’s far better to question everything by being open-minded. But, by allowing yourself to consider all options, you have no claim to truth. You never hear anyone say, “Who’s to say these mushrooms are bad for you?” (The open-minded approach).

Why, when a woman dumps a man he becomes a miserable loser? He is now consumed by the idea she’s the only woman on the planet meant for him. Funny, how that works. Women, if they knew this, would dump their guy every three months or so. Women won’t let a man get truly comfortable.

Women should never read in the bathroom. I’m pretty certain that only men should read in bathrooms. It’s common to see a man walking toward the bathroom with a sports page tucked under an arm, perhaps fearful that there’s no toilet paper after he has made the commitment to # 2.

Exotic Cats and other musings

If house cats were your size they would eat you. It’s just their bad luck that they weigh only seven pounds. If you have a pet, you better be able to kick its furry ass.

The fact is if you tell someone you’re recovering from a head wound, they will never press you for proof.

We don’t need coffins. My suggestion is a nice sleeping bag. Coffins take up too much space no matter how ornate and they’re never going to see you or it again anyway.

Why, when a woman dumps a man he becomes a miserable loser? He is now consumed by the idea she’s the only woman on the planet meant for him. Funny, how that works. Women, if they knew this, would dump their guy every three months or so.

I’m pretty certain that only men should read in bathrooms. It’s common to see a man walking toward the bathroom with a sports page tucked under an arm as though he is heading for a sporting event.

Doodles are actually sexist. Males draw angry things with teeth, big ears, and blood-shot eyes and machine guns firing bullets. Meanwhile if you look at doodles belonging to a female — any female — you will find stars, a happy face, some hearts, sometimes filled with smaller hearts.

No one believes they will get old, until they are. I would like to say you make better decisions as you age, but you often

don’t. Old people often confuse pajamas with underwear.

Only old people are described as “active’.

Expansion of consciousness In all my experiences of well being, ecstasy, and meaningfulness, the overwhelming sense is that of an expansion of consciousness, of feeling boundless and free. “Expansion of consciousness,” then is my aspiration.

I will make changes in conscious attention to alter the chemistry of my emotional system. An increase in awareness creates a greater chance to change the nature of my unconscious patterns of behavior.

Those experiences that create feelings of expansion, those that I delight in, indicate the present state of my emotional brain and my corresponding behavior.

I don't want to fight the current, but learn to be alert to the unconscious forces that determine so much of who I am and how I think. Acceptance of this natural condition relaxes me and not feel guilty about patterns of behavior that are probably beyond my conscious control.

I am not locked to my past, but I am not braced for the future. I embrace the present and I strive to embrace the limitless.

My bottle of wonderful wine (Merlot) is full. I'm expecting company. I feel delighted in the unexpected. I'm about to get ona lucky streak. I see sudden breakthroughs and insights.

Expansion of consciousness In all my experiences of well being, ecstasy, and meaningfulness, the overwhelming sense is that of an expansion of consciousness, of feeling boundless and free. “Expansion of consciousness,” then is my aspiration.

I will make changes in conscious attention to alter the chemistry of my emotional system. An increase in awareness creates a greater chance to change the nature of my unconscious patterns of behavior.

Those experiences that create feelings of expansion, those that I delight in, indicate the present state of my emotional brain and my corresponding behavior.

I don't want to fight the current, but learn to be alert to the unconscious forces that determine so much of who I am and how I think. Acceptance of this natural condition relaxes me and not feel guilty about patterns of behavior that are probably beyond my conscious control.

I am not locked to my past, but I am not braced for the future. I embrace the present and I strive to embrace the limitless.

My bottle of wonderful wine (Merlot) is full. I'm expecting company. I feel delighted in the unexpected. I'm about to get ona lucky streak. I see sudden breakthroughs and insights.

The original page will appear here.

[yellow legal pad] Farmer's Market – 9:30 AM. [margin: Garden freezing; Quantities of mushrooms for cooking – 1 cup at a time]

Nice day. Low humidity. Light breeze. Visited [with vendor]: 1) Mushrooms – raised in a basement. $20 lb – $10 1/2 lb. – I may try these with my [turkey gravy] – for a meal. 2) Kids & dogs at the market were all over the place – all on a leash. Stars were: a spotted B&white Great Dane – 4 yr old female – oohs & aahs – a pair of tiny fuzzies (Yorkies) and a 50-lb Alaskan grey [coat] (wolf/dog). Kids – dressed nicely – lots of them just walking, 3-4-5 yr olds – some in strollers (less than 1 yr old). They were a hit. – My favorite [vendor] (fair weather) – Flowers. Large bouquets – $15. English Lady was also a delight. I asked about England & her opinion of America. Her accent was British. She said America is a problem, not on a good path. It's been going down a long time. I mentioned Ireland. She said, 'I can hardly understand them. They are fun and witty.' I bought a small pastry. $5 – Just OK.

were at home, Farris scooted outside unseen and disappeared from us, causing minor panic trying to find him. He was missing for a long time and Vicki and I went looking for him. He resembled the gray squirrels that were always in our yard or in the wooded lot just over a little creek in back of the house. At dark we were still searching and calling for Farris, knowing Josh would be devastated when he came home. He was, and tears came quickly to his eyes. The search continued until bedtime. I went out later with a flashlight and 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 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 maybe 2 pounds soaking wet, and I rather think he enjoyed the bath. When the soaping bath and rinsing was finished, Josh would wrap Farris 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 at arms length. Josh especially liked to stretch Farris and it looked as if the little animal did not have any bones.

One day, Vicki, Josh and Farris went their separate ways.

FEELINGS

The choice of what the words will be needs no preparation. The faster the writing can be done, the better the result will be. "The work which has been done the quickest has been done the best." Quickness is a virtue in writing. The best writing comes from "hot pressure in telling the story." Writing never assists writing; all the words come "hot on the paper from their causes." Words so written are correct. They should never be changed. Grammar is an act of courtesy, not an aspect of meaning. Readers insist that the writer to obey certain rules, but the words are permanent and permanently true. Until writing becomes public, it also remains almost absolutely private. Writing must come from the writer as music comes from the rapid touch of the great performer's fingers and as words come from the orator.

In this world things are beautiful only because they are not quite seen, or not perfectly understood. Nature and art are at their grandest when one cannot quite make them out. The greatest charm of anything or anyone is the wild feeling that there is more beyond the image of them.

After a death ones wonders if they can love again. But that is not the test. One can teach themselves to be in love. It is necessary for some people to be in love all the time – that it is necessary for happiness to devote oneself to another. Their characters are never so wrong, than when they teach themselves something – like teaching themselves the business of falling in love rather than

feeling it.

Character is neither imitated from outside nor deduced from prior reasoning. "When the truth is arrived at, it is found to have always been there, waiting for words. "Sometimes this truth operates without conscious

prologue, pushing itself partially into consciousness and dictating behavior without reference to logic. Unconscious thinking is truth. It is the truth of the thinker's own feelings and desires; it is a statement of character. Character is revealed by behavior.

I have almost abandoned the effort to think, trusting myself, to work the matter out when the pen is in my hand or my fingers are on the keys. Free writing, depends upon this premise. Freedom of expression and not doing something until it is time to do it frees oneself from bondage and allows feelings to guide me.

Feeling speaks, but what it says is not language. The mind has nothing in common with the ability to speak. You can not whisper even to your own heart, but within your own heart there is feeling. The truth of feeling is resistant to analysis or reason. Character speaks the truth without speaking. Each of us understands that there is no need of words; indeed, it often comes about when language is forbidden, or when what is said directly contradicts what is understood. Acts and looks, which are plainer than words are insights to the truth of ourselves. One gentleman recognizes another; no interpretation is necessary.

Feelings are the only truth, and feelings do not emit signs of themselves that would have to be interpreted, allowing the possibility of error. Feelings are identical with the statement of them, and statements of feeling are never made in any kind of interpretable language. Signs can be counterfeited, but feelings cannot. Feelings speak, but is nonspeech; they are read, but it is nonreading. This is the basis of human intercourse on all levels.

When I have once brought myself to tell a woman that I love her, there is no retreat. My love is a thing to give, but when given I cannot take it back. If I have declared my love to an unworthy woman does not change the structure of love or the truth of my statement; they merely guarantee that that I am capable of loving and not a mistake of loving someone.

[yellow legal pad] (1) I'm having feelings of sadness because of the number of people being killed; meet [met] by guns. Schools, the streets, homes, restaurants, gatherings. I believe the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution should be addressed, and changed or scuttled. Rewrite it or make changes. The premise that Americans need guns to survive holds no reasons outweighing threats that without guns people will die and be unable to protect their families and themselves. An invasion of guns owned by family members & mine dealt [an] astonishing number of guns. Gun facts – America #1 & continues to grow. Americans: 32% = 81.4 millions over 18. 41% / 44%. Civilian: 1/3 of all civilian guns in the world are in the hands of Americans. 1/3 adults. 400 millions guns in the US. Civilians – civilians & military, police… over 393 million (over 98%) are in civilian hands. The average gun-owning American has 5. 120 firearms per 100 citizens.

FEELINGS

The choice of what the words will be needs no preparation. The faster the writing can be done, the better the result will be. "The work which has been done the quickest has been done the best." Quickness is a virtue in writing. The best writing comes from "hot pressure in telling the story." Writing never assists writing; all the words come "hot on the paper from their causes." Words so written are correct. They should never be changed. Grammar is an act of courtesy, not an aspect of meaning. Readers insist that the writer to obey certain rules, but the words are permanent and permanently true. becomes public, it also remains almost absolutely private. Writing must come from the writer as music comes from the rapid touch of the great performer's fingers and as words come from the orator.

In this world things are beautiful only because they are not quite seen, or not perfectly understood. Nature and art are at their grandest when one cannot quite make them out. The greatest charm of anything or anyone is the wild feeling that there is more beyond the image of them.

After a death ones wonders if they can love again. But that is not the test. One can teach themselves to be in love. It is necessary for some people to be in love all the time – that it is necessary for happiness to devote oneself to another. Their characters are never so wrong, than when they teach themselves something – like teaching themselves the business of falling in love rather than feeling it.

Character is neither imitated from outside nor deduced from prior reasoning. "When the truth is arrived at, it is found to have always been there, waiting for words. "Sometimes this truth operates without conscious prologue, pushing itself partially into consciousness and dictating behavior without reference to logic. Unconscious thinking is truth. It is the truth of the thinker'’s own feelings and desires; it is a statement of character. Character is revealed by behavior.

I have almost abandoned the effort to think, trusting myself, to work the matter out when the pen is in my hand or my fingers are on the keys. Free writing, depends upon this premise. Freedom of expression and not doing something until it is time to do it frees oneself from bondage and allows feelings to guide me.

Feeling speaks, but what it says is not language. The mind has nothing in common with the ability to speak. You can not whisper even to your own heart, but within your own heart there is feeling. The truth of feeling is resistant to analysis or reason. Character speaks the truth without speaking. Each of us understands that there is no need of words; indeed, it often comes about when language is forbidden, or when what is said directly contradicts what is understood. Acts and looks, which are plainer than words are insights to the truth of ourselves. One gentleman recognizes another; no interpretation is

necessary. Feelings are the only truth, and feelings do not emit signs of themselves that would have to be interpreted, allowing the possibility of error. Feelings

are identical with the statement of them, and statements of feeling are never made in any of interpretable language. Signs can be counterfeited, but feelings cannot. Feelings speak, but is nonspeech; they are read, but it is nonreading. This is the basis of human intercourse on all levels.

When I have once brought myself to tell a woman that I love her, there is no retreat. My love is a thing to give, but when given I cannot take it back. If I have declared my love to an unworthy woman does not change the structure of love or the truth of my statement; they merely guarantee that that I am capable of loving and not a mistake of loving someone.

First, I Don’t do comedy, and I can prove it. In fact that’s what I’m dong now.

I needed help and support and turned to

Elvis. By the way, I heard he has been reincarnated and is now a boy of 7 and living in Spain and into church music.

DO: Elvis Songs introduction. *Now and then there’s a fool such as I *Shake Rattle and Roll

Thanks Man!

So, I|GOT IN THE KITCHEN AND RATTLED some POTS AND PANS

BACON IS MY SUBJECT TONIGHT.

I know that most of you love BACON, but some of you feel terrible about it. DON’T

I have been flying secretly, and not so secretly, for more than one hundred months. | was not afraid of flying, but | may have feared landing. Fly on, but look for land.

I crave enthusiasm. Do you have enthusiasm? If the answer is “yes,” you're in! Ifno–a hole may open and you go to hell. Oh no!

1 believe we must live in the future otherwise we will be trapped in the past. Do we leap aboard ihe giant peterdactacti and put our dreams with it? Of course! Invent the future; build it while no one is looking. Dream the cliché’ impossible dream.

Prepare for coincidences. | see a swift friendship in an afternoon, maybe only five thousand four hundred seconds. It may be our chance for that puzzling infinite curiosity that is the beginning of something. Perhaps we'll get a tabloid and laugh over a hot Irish coffee or red wine; barefooted; and with mussed hair. Could be.

“Do something wonderful, someone may imitate it.” Albert Swietzer.

Annabelle is a word so beautiful It makes me see stars

And flowers

Of orange.

Annabelle, you must be like Ared wine,

Or the name of a wooden ship With tall sails.

Annabelle, you're like the wind That waves the grasses, Rustles the leaves

And caresses my cheeks.

Annabelle, it’s the quietness And brightness of you. You're translucent

And also a whisper.

Annabelle, you’re a child,

A mother, a grandmother,

A soul

Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle.

The original page will appear here.

For, Saez Pa curler

For sale by owner. FSBOs. The scourge of Realtors right? Wrong, I say, and I’m a Realtor. Why?

About 20% of the time a FSBO works. That’s pretty good odds. I recommend Realtors for the other 80%. I’m going to use the FSBO method on match.com. I’m really trying to sell myself to someone aren’t I? My heart, my commitment, position, style, and whatever else go with me. Who would want me? What price should I ask? Am I free or am I priceless? I believe values are valuable. Does the kit and quibble go with me or just the kit? When am I available for showings? Should I hide my valuables or mementos and take down any religious or political symbols? Do I need new paint? Should I clean out my closet? Bring out the best dishes? Be on my best behavior? Dress up the old bod? Shine and polish here and there? Will I go for a glamour shot or one of the dog? Is a virtual tour a good idea? Should I light a candle, burn a nice log in the fireplace, put in higher voltage bulbs, put on good music, pour a glass of red wine, and is that really me? Yes! Do I need a whole-house inspection, or a warranty for important appliances or heating units? How’s the furnace; the pipes; the windows? How’s the roof; the foundation? Is there a need for a title inspection? I don’t know! I’m trying! I’m pretty attached to me; I’ve known me almost all my life. I remember my first words, “Where am I?” I’ve taken care of me pretty good. I respect myself, but had to excuse me a time or two. I’ve collected and discarded accessories, but maintain neatness. I’m warm and inviting, and now and then like my distance and solitude. I’ve withstood storms, including hell. I’m sorry, I meant hail, but the dents were repaired. I’m peaceful, strong, reliable, but some boards creak at times. 1 party well and love the company of friends. Kids and ancients are comfortable with me and they don’t notice my age as much as my mirth. I’m weathered, renovated, updated, functional, fun, and dated. There is a ladder to the attic too, and no missed belt loops either. I am not available just ‘AS IS.” I expect changes are in store for me and I look forward to brighter days, exciting nights, more noise, scents, and a change of diet if that is what it takes to sell myself. I’m a for sale by owner – owner. Are you a qualified lead? Will consider a lease, but not a Contract for Deed, I welcome your call. 618. —.john.

I am attracted to a woman who has a passion for life, a good deal of humor, intelligence, and with good looks that come from assurance, zeal, goodness and grooming. And, most of all, a woman who is sincere. I believe in loyalty and friendship with all of my heart, and I am not afraid to put myself out there. I can give my heart away again and make that person the center of my world. I seek and want a relationship that is genuine, and one that endures because of desire, effort, and understanding that is intermingled to release love’s force and power. My story is simple, my goals attainable and my resolve absolute. So it may be said that my life embodies love and hope and friendship. It has also had heartbreak. I’ve been up to my ankles, over my head, mired and stuck, head over heels, and even lost, but never sunk. I am coordinated and also balanced. I can needle and “take it”- sometimes. Sure, I’m competitive and love anything that bounces or rolls. I also like whatever grows. I seem “thoroughly Irish.” I love colorful clothing, true characters, dancing, clapping hands, telling and writing stories, and perhaps a “pint.” I lived an astonishing childhood in an astonishing tiny Midwestern village in Southern Illinois by rural raised parents who mothered and fathered eight children, including a minister, artist, pilot, teacher, technician, wildlife guide, a caregiver, and me. We were raised tight, but not too tight. We had freedom to explore, use imagination and to connect to and appreciate nature. We shared, but I like to think we were humble, and had respect for everyone and everything. We were teachers and learners alike. On and on we grew. My father and mother nurtured and enjoyed the sparkling and engaging personalities of their children. All of us write. This is a little story about me, now how about you? I’ll listen if you try.

Forget individuality. More people would rather be around twenty people who are decent and boring than have to deal with one unique butthole all the time.

Just because it’s for a good cause doesn’t make it good. Forced fed philanthropy is not the way to make you feel good.

Most of us know someone who has spent at least one night in jail. It trumps everything else shy of a moon walk, I guess, about teaching you something you will never forget. It shows you how much you don’t want to be in jail.

Yogurt is not food. I didn’t eat it as a child. I didn’t hear of that crap until I was 40. I’d rather have pudding or Jell-O.

Tattoos are useful. They act as an identifiable marker for people you wish to avoid. They’re saying, “Stay the hell away from me.”

Nostalgia sucks. The trick of nostalgia is making you think you liked the crap you did when you were growing up. Admit it; you weren’t paying any attention to the things that you think you are missing now.

Twins prove that we’re no miracle.

Jre 1/2012 461

"remove Unnecessary Items from an untidy place — or over-crowded — or [in] an untidy [place]" "an untidy"

At 12:00 a free sack lunch and a bottle of water would be served to the participants. They could eat it at the work place or take it home. Does not require cooking or heating. Funding for the project has not been determined. I would be paying for the rocks, paint and brushes. Transportation to and from the work place needs to be considered. One van could handle 5-6 people A monitor/supervisor/ for each session. A worker would not earn $$ for painting rocks. Giving a personalized rock for each worker is planned. I am not planning to have sponsors. It is not a money maker. The focus is on the caregivers at these two Alton Hospitals. Saint Anthony’s Hospital Number of employees/staff _________ Alton Memorial Hospital “ _________ There is space in my basement for cleaning and to store rocks. The working room floor would be covered with cloth / canvas / ?? March is being considered as a starting date – time is not yet selected. I like AM. A crew from one school seems like a good idea. For transportation, accountability, and recognition at their school.

Friends

Friendship is different from all other relationships. Unlike lovers and married couples it is free of jealousy, and knows neither criticism nor resentment. Friendship has no status in law. Business partnerships are based on a contract. So is marriage. Parents and children are bound by law. But friendship is freely entered into, freely given, freely exercised.

Friends never cheat on each other, or take advantage, or lie. Friends do not spy on one another, yet have few secrets. Friends glory in each others successes and saddened- by their failures. Friends give to each other, worry about each other, and stand always ready to help.

I’ve gotten out of bed more than 26,000 times in my

Life and each day is fresh and offers promise, and a chance to see a friend, or to make a new one.

My fiends have common traits. Authentic is one. They were/are sincere, funny, and trust worthy. I had their back and they had mine. I was and am comfortable in their company, and had no criteria or measurement, no ranking – and no justification — just that they are my friends.

John Casey

186

FROM HERE TO THERE -AND BACK

Saturday at 8:00

and were not late.

All packed, all smiles,

and ready to cover 700 miles.

The threesome of autos:

Terry, Mike, Bob and Otto;

Doc, Jack, Dusty and Kell;

Then Pilgrim, focus, Pooter, all going pell mell.

The sun was out, our spirits high. Were heading for Hilton Head, MY MY. Everyone was feeling lucky

and our first stop was in Kentucky.

We cleared Atlanta in mid afternoon

and knew we would be on the coast soon. A pizza dinner at the Red Roof inn

we all watched Michigan State win.

Its off to the Huddle House.

who choose this – the louse?

Food came late, but we ate every bite and loaded out coolers with Miller Lite.

We donned Caps, jackets, shoes and belts some smeared stuff to stop no-seemums welts. A putt or two and some free balls we eagerly awaited out tee time calls.

Sunday it was golf at the Golden Bear

I started it off with a birdie; 1 was on a tear. Then clink, pow, crack and thud.

I hit em in the woods, water and mud.

We would both love and cuss

what Cupp, Jones, Nicklas, and Player did to us as we played their magnificent links

and never minded that our golf game stinks.

Geology 101 Report Sed et lacus quis enim mattis nonummy Lorem vitae elit Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, ligula suspendisse nulla pretium, rhoncus tempor fermentum, enim integer ad vestibulum volutpat. Nisl rhoncus turpis est, vel elit, congue wisi enim nunc ultricies sit, magna tincidunt. Maecenas aliquam maecenas ligula nostra, accumsan taciti. Sociis mauris in integer, a dolor netus non dui. Arcu habitasse elementum est, ipsum purus pede porttitor class, ut adipiscing, aliquet sed auctor, imperdiet arcu per diam dapibus libero duis. Enim eros in vel, volutpat nec pellentesque leo, temporibus scelerisque nec. Ac dolor ac adipiscing amet bibendum nullam, lacus molestie ut libero nec, diam et, pharetra sodales, feugiat ullamcorper id tempor id vitae. Mauris pretium aliquet, lectus tincidunt. Porttitor mollis imperdiet libero senectus pulvinar. Etiam molestie mauris ligula laoreet, vehicula eleifend. Repellat orci erat et, sem cum, ultricies sollicitudin amet eleifend dolor nullam erat, malesuada est leo ac. Varius natoque turpis elementum est. Duis montes, tellus lobortis lacus amet arcu et. GEOLOGY 101 REPORT 2

George Washington’s Leadership

In a biography of George Washington, the author, Ron Chernow, reviewed

attributes that made The Father of Our Country a tremendous leader. George’s father died when George was young and his mother was not supportive, yet he accomplished remarkable feats and earned the respect and admiration of his contemporaries as well as still being considered as our finest President.

After leading our new nation to victory in the Revolutionary War, George went

home to attend to his farm, intending to retire from public duty. We all know that he didn’t do that because he was acclaimed, President and served two terms. His is the only President who was not elected by the people.

today.

George had strong leadership traits which continue as hallmarks of leadership

Lead by Example: He personally reviewed the operation of his farm. He was an early riser and attentive to details and an excellent instructor.

Keep good records: George kept meticulous records, wrote letters, journals and diaries throughout his life.

Develop good principles: Stick to your principals.

Cultivate friendships by being reliable and supportive.

Be cooperative and seek understanding,

Stand up for your convictions and be assertive when the time comes.

Practice altruism. Willingness to sacrifice for a higher cause George wintered with his army at Valley Forge. He led his men into battles.

Give credit to others.

Appoint/hire people who will strengthen you and your cause.

The people you manage look to you for leadership and direction every day. You

would do well to review the leadership traits of our first President.

I want to share with you some of my thoughts about agency. Agency is the most

important responsibility of a “Real Estate Agent.” Understanding the role of an agent helps you become an effective agent. It is defined as an individual authorized to act on behalf of another. It carries responsibility. Do not shrink from it. You must be honest and disclose your relationship.

People needing real estate services seek professional help. Your designation as a

Real Estate Agent is that of a professional. Use the traits of Washington in his remarkable career and you will earn the status of a professional.

Germania Federal Savings & Loan was an outstanding and progressive financial institution in Alton for more than 90 years. William G. Osborn was its president. This is an insight to his management style.

Roses

In the summer of 1973 I worked for Germania and my work required me to visit villages in Southern Illinois. One Thursday I had been to Mattoon and was driving back to Alton and had to pass through Pana. The city touted itself as the long stemmed red rose’s capital of the United States. Orders came in from all over the country, including all the roses they could ship to Pasadena, CA for the Rose Parade.

I stopped at a shop to buy roses. They were offered for $1 each. At that price I decided to buy one for each girl who worked on the third floor at Germania. I bought a dozen for the girls plus two for my wife.

I reached the office at 3:45 P.M. in time to attend the monthly marketing committee meeting that would start at 4:00. This gave me time to put a rose on the desk of each female staff member.

Our committee had an outstanding and productive meeting, chaired by Mr. Osborn. After the meeting the committee members went to Tony’s Restaurant in downtown Alton where we dined on pepper loins. All in all, the day went well.

The next morning when I entered the third floor, I noticed roses were in small vases on the ladies desks. There was a noticeable cheeriness in the air. It looked like a good start for the day.

It was 9:30 when Mr. Osborn arrived at work. It was 9:45 when his secretary, Loretta Clayton, phoned me. I answered and she 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 that he wanted to talk about the decisions made at the meeting the evening before. I scurried to his office and went in.

Mr. Osborn said, “Set down”. I sat down. “I see,” he stated, “Mr. Casey, the girls have roses on their desks.” “Yes,” I answered. “Mr. Casey,” he continued, “it appears that you are in their favor as a result of what you have done, do you know that”? “Yes,” I answered. “Mr. Casey (he would not call me John) do you know how many females work at Germania”? “No,” I answered. “It’s more than a dozen,” he replied, then continued. “The females on the first floor or the second floor did not get roses and do you know what that means”? I didn’t answer and he continued, “Two-thirds of the females at Germania right now feel bad that they did not get a rose and only one-third of them feel good because they did, and it is all because of you!” My head bowed a bit. He wasn’t done and said, “If you thought that giving a rose to the females on your floor was a good idea why didn’t you think of the others?” He had a point and I felt a twinge of guilt. He continued, “All of the supervisors are also mad at you because their female staff is upset. We have good

Germania Federal Savings & Loan was an outstanding financial institution in Alton, IL for more than 90 years. William G. Osborn was its 2>4 president.

Roses

In the summer of 1973 I worked for Germania and my work required me to visit villages in Southern Illinois. One Thursday I had been to Mattoon and was driving back to Alton and had to pass through Pana. The city touted itself as the long stemmed red rose capital of the United States. Orders came in from all over the country, including all the roses they could ship to Pasadena, CA for the Rose Parade.

I stopped at a shop to buy roses. They were priced at $1 each. I decided to buy a rose for each girl who worked on the third floor, plus two for my wife.

I reached the office at 3:45 P.M. and in time to attend the marketing committee meeting that would start at 4:00. This gave me time to put a rose on the desk of the female staff members on my floor. Our committee had a productive meeting, chaired by Mr. Osborn. After the meeting the committee members went to Tony’s Restaurant in downtown Alton where we dined on pepper loins. All in all, the day went well.

The next morning when I entered the third floor, I noticed roses were in small vases on the ladies desks. There was a noticeable cheeriness in the air.

It was 9:30 when Mr. Osborn arrived at work. It was 9:45 when his secretary, Loretta Clayton, phoned me. I answered and she said, “Mr. Casey, Mr. Osborn wants to see you in his office.” I picked up a yellow pad and a pen and started for his office. I was confident that he wanted to talk about the decisions made at the meeting the evening before.

I reached his office and went in. Mr.Osborn said, “Set down”. I sat down. “I see,” he stated, “Mr. Casey, the girls have roses on their desks.” “Yes,” I answered. “Mr. Casey,” he continued, “it appears that you are in their favor as a result of what you have done, do you know that”? “Yes,” I answered. “Mr. Casey (he would not call me John) do you know how many females work at Germania”? “No,” I answered. “It’s more than a dozen,” he replied, then continued. “The females on the first floor and the second floor did not get roses and do you know what that means”? I didn’t answer. He continued; “Two-thirds of the females at Germania right now feel bad that they did not get a rose and only one-third of them feel good because they did, and it is all because of you!” My head bowed a bit. He wasn’t done and said, “If you thought that giving a rose to the females on your floor was a good idea why didn’t you think of the others?” He had a point and I felt a twinge of guilt. He continued, “All of the supervisors are also mad at you because their female staff is upset.

Comfortable is a one-word description of Gerry Schuetzenhofer. Seldom is Mr. Used before his name, its Gerry. He said his mother misspelled his first name and no one can spell his last one.

Gary, once retired and hired as a handyman for Coldwell Banker Brown Realtors, works countless hours putting up signs, picking up supplies, moving furniture and doing all sorts of odds and ends, all without detailed instructions. He just gets the job done. Gerry hired him and Gary molded into the job and it to him. Gary laughs easily, is always cheerful and very efficient. The same is true about Amy, Peggy, Lisa, Jen, Chris, Jim, Wes, Mary Ann and all those around Gerry at work They deliver more than promised, on time, with responsibility and with efficiently. They reflect the attitude about business that Gerry instills in everyone.

Gerry knows everyone on his more than 200 staff and can correctly pronounce everyone's name. He credits his staff with the growth of his company in becoming so successful.

Gerry, his wife and companion, Pat, and their two children not only go to church together they have morning and evening meals together. Gerry uses a steak knife to cut real butter for Anna, their 8 year old, and when Ben, their 12 year old, piles his ice cream bowl high with Rocky Road, Gerry knowingly smiles at Pat. Their dog is aptly named Lucky. He minds well and looks after the family.

It's neat that the family takes vacations together, but Gerry and Pat will take the kids on business trips whenever they can and spend off-time doing and seeing things together. That enriches both their business and personal lives.

Pat, an accomplished professional Realtor with Coldwell Banker Brown Realtors, manages to keep everything at the house nice and neat, but she doesn't always think so. She plays no favorites and everyone has their chores both inside and outside their home. Lucky doesn't work.

Gerry doesn't do power breakfasts, real long lunch hours or many dinners without his family. He does attend to numerous meetings with his various businesses and is involved in Scouting, The Alliance of Edwardsville and Glen Carbon, The SIUE Foundation, Chamber of Commerce, Rotary, The Board of Realtors and has held offices and responsibility in all of them.

He contributes funds for programs and events as well as direction and support.

He's up to date about the community, where it's been, how well it's doing and where it's going. He is a champion and one of the best community leaders as well as a life-long resident of the area.

Gerry likes crisp white shirts, loud ties, conservative suits and self- polished shoes, but he is very comfortable in old clothes and worn boots while riding his "tractor" taking care of the grounds around his family home. He can cook a gourmet meal, but still likes junk food.

He is not spoiled by success. He is thankful for it. Gerry is a very visible leader at work and in the community. He proudly stands up next to everyone and when the photo is developed, Gerry is always smiling. That tells all.

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

Comfortable is a one-word description of Gerry Schuetzenhofer. Seldom is Mr. Used before his name, its Gerry. He said his mother misspelled his first name and no one can spell his last one.

Gary, once retired and hired as a handyman for Coldwell Banker Brown Realtors, works countless hours putting up signs, picking up supplies, moving furniture and doing all sorts of odds and ends, all without detailed instructions. He just gets the job done. Gerry hired him and Gary molded into the job and it to him. Gary laughs easily, is always cheerful and very efficient. The same is true about Amy, Peggy, Lisa, Jen, Chris, Jim, Wes, Mary Ann and all those around Gerry at work. They deliver more than promised, on time, with responsibility and with efficiently. They reflect the attitude about business that Gerry instills in everyone.

Gerry knows everyone on his more than 200 staff and can correctly pronounce everyone's name. He credits his staff with the growth of his company in becoming so successful.

Gerry, his wife and companion, Pat, and their two children not only go to church together they have morning and evening meals together. Gerry uses a steak knife to cut real butter for Anna, their 8 year old, and when Ben, their 12 year old, piles his ice cream bowl high with Rocky Road, Gerry knowingly smiles at Pat. Their dog is aptly named Lucky. He minds well and looks after the family.

It's neat that the family takes vacations together, but Gerry and Pat will take the kids on business trips whenever they can and spend off-time doing and seeing things together. That enriches both their business and personal lives.

Pat, an accomplished professional Realtor with Coldwell Banker Brown Realtors, manages to keep everything at the house nice and neat, but she doesn't always think so. She plays no favorites and everyone has their chores both inside and outside their home. Lucky doesn't work.

Gerry doesn't do power breakfasts, real leng lunch hours or many dinners without his family. He does attend to numerous meetings with his various businesses and is involved in Scouting, The Alliance of Edwardsville and Glen Carbon, The SIUE Foundation, Chamber of Commerce, Rotary, The Board of Realtors and has held offices and responsibility in all of them.

He contributes funds for programs and events as well as direction and support.

He's up to date about the community, where it's been, how well it's doing and where it's going. He is a champion and one of the best community leaders as well as a life-long resident of the area.

Gerry likes crisp white shirts, loud ties, conservative suits and self- polished shoes, but he is very comfortable in old clothes and worn boots while riding his "tractor" taking care of the grounds around his family home. He can cook a gourmet meal, but still likes junk food.

He is not spoiled by success. He is thankful for it. Gerry is a very visible leader at work and in the community. He proudly stands up next to everyone and when the photo is developed, Gerry is always smiling. That tells all.

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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 feel 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 knowledge that making errors and correcting them is what makes a good person.

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 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 privitege 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 valle 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 sure of the worth of your ifs and youser is how you feel about your own efforts, If you really believe you really applied yourself, imespective oF your outcome, that’ all anyone can ask. It's ‘natural to feel disappointment with things or how things turn out. Embarrassment, 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; " Lwant 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. —=

gold on their wrists and chains of gold around their necks. If one of them breaks, anyone that gets hold of the pieces may keep them. “No one follows a chump.” W.C. Fields.

My favorite Masters Champions used three kinds of intuition when they won at Augusta; ordinary, expert, and strategic. Ordinary intuition is gut instinct. It involves a vague notion of key points and direction (Fuzzy Zoeller, 1979). Expert intuition is a snap judgment that corresponds to the power of knowledge based on extensive facts and experience. (Phil Michelson’s 6-iron from 195 yards— 2010.). Strategic intuition is a slow, thoughtful way that is a deep and wide process of reflective thinking through all the possibilities — (Jack Nicklaus, age, 46, 1986).

Zooming deep and wide is a skill I have not cultivated to any degree. I tend towards gut instinct mixed with snap judgment constantly being updated for new possibilities with rich experiences. “…Jmagination encircles the world.” Einstein.

White belts will go away (please), but roars of patrons, green wrapped food, and brilliant flowers are painted on my memory cells. I hope they never fade.

I was a patron at the 2013 Masters and wore a WALDO shirt.

John Casey 4/2013

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