Shadows are a strange and wonderful thing. People have written about them in a million different ways. They hold a bit of mystery, don’t you think?

They follow you. They lurk and linger. Shadows can belong to you or someone else. Sometimes they reside down a dark alley. Other times, shadows lie about on a late day afternoon lawn.

No matter where they are… something has preceded them. They move. And shift. They are forever changing.

Shadows can be short and fat, long and narrow, crooked, straight, high and low.

So tonight as I sit and write, it is just me and my shadow.  It is with me right here.  Yet, I can’t pick it up or hold it. I can’t lose it either.

But one thing is for sure. When you see a shadow, no matter how large or how small it may seem…. they is always a light shining somewhere.

There is always a source of light.

“Where there is much light, the shadow is deep”

– Johann Wolfgang von Goeithe

Today we took a Walking History Tour of Charleston, South Carolina.

What a great, great time it was.

This town was established in 1680. That, I knew. But what I didn’t know was…. well…. WAY too much to list here. We walked around downtown for 3 hours and heard fact after fact after fact. And we didn’t even scratch the surface.

The photo tonight depicts the chandelier in St. Michael’s Church which was ordered from London in 1803.  They speculate that it weighs 2,000 pounds.  That’s a lot.

It is a grand and spectacular building. In this church…for example…. there are three stained glass windows made by Tiffany. I like to look at these windows.  They are beyond beautiful.

The organ, installed in 1768… (and since “expanded”) is massive and beautiful with 40 stops and 51 tracks.   Someday, I hope to hear it play.

The steeple is 186 feet in height; the weather vane is 7 ½ feet long. The entire steeple sank eight inches as a result of the earthquake in 1886. But it is still a foot taller than the Leaning Tower of Pisa.   They say of that tower in Italy would stand up straight, it might be taller someday.

The large, long double-pew in the center of the church, No. 43, originally known as “The Governor’s Pew,” is the one in which President George Washington worshiped on Sunday afternoon, May 8, 1791. General Robert E. Lee also worshiped in the pew some seventy years later. Prince Charles too. I like to stand in the pew.  It gives me goosebumps.

I could go on and on with the things we learned about St. Michael’s. We were only there a mere 15 minutes of the 3 hour tour. The three hour tour.   Yes.  All-in-all, it  was a jam-packed 180 minutes of Charleston.

My brain is incredibly tired tonight, as is the rest of me. I think it has information overload. But I like feeling this way.

Even though it is inundated with historical facts and snidbits… it is happy.

But….as Albert Einstein said…”Information is not knowledge.” On the other hand, Noah Webster says knowledge can be facts and information acquired by a person through learning.

So it comes down to this… I don’t know if I’m any smarter or not tonight.

I am thankful though. I always knew that Charleston was named after King Charles the Second of England. What I learned today, is that they almost named it after King Waze Ah of the British West Indies (which was a major through-Port for the English on their way here).

Then I would be living in Waze-ah-ton.  I am glad it is Charleston instead.  My home-away-from-home.

Today we visited Sullivan’s Island.

Great little Atlantic Coast Beach. The sand was full of humps and bumps and crevices. Quite interesting and visually stimulating… but it wasn’t the easiest surface to travel on at times.

The thing I’ve noticed though, about beaches and such…. they have terrific and alluring names. But most of them aren’t really telling the whole truth. Not even close.  This one should have been called… “Gray Brown Lumpy Beach”

Yet… it is the mysterious Sullivan’s Island. It isn’t an island at all.

We have Edisto Island, Kiawah Island, Seabrook Island, Isle of Palms, and on. Not islands. Not a one.

There is Bull Harbor and Bull Bay. You figured it right…. no bulls. And that’s no bull.

It goes on and on with other water communities. Paradise Cove. Almost everywhere you go… there is a “Paradise Cove”…..  However.   Most are filled with sea weathered, tattered buildings and run-down-barnacle-encrusted boats. Not much paradise to be found. Not even an apple tree with a snake.

But you know, this isn’t just true of the water world.  You will find it all over the place.

For instance, the Miracle Mile in LA. Or the Magnificent Mile in Chicago. Oh, who are you trying to fool, you big city folk?

However, if they called it what it really is… “Big Ugly Buildings Lining The Streets With Lots Of Homeless People On The Sidewalks Mile” …. no one would visit and spend money there.  Yep.  Telling the truth is sometimes detrimental to all parties involved.

We have a piece of artwork that says “Tell The Truth All The Time”

Now this is hard to do. We use filters all the time, and we bend the reality. And…. We do it for a lot of different reasons.

To avoid conflict. To avoid not hurting others’ feelings. To make things “easier” on ourselves. And on and on.

“Honey, do these pants make me look fat?” “Yes dear… you look just like a whale in denim.”

This would not be good.

“Hey Goldie… do you think I look like an idiot in my sock monkey hat?” “Yes Polly. Pretty much.”

“Sweetheart… how does my Tunafish Surprise taste?” “Oh. Just slightly better than moist potting soil topped with cracker crumbs.”

See how this is going? This could spell big trouble for the institutions of marriage, friendship, and family.

Yes, we use those filters and buffers, and… well…. little white lies…. to keep it all smooth and even. Just like on the beach this morning…. it makes it easier to walk when the sand isn’t so dang lumpy.

Now… would I lie to you? Truth be told, I would not. But I might bend things a bit to keep us both happy.

Hey…… I love your dress.

Holy haberdashery, Batman!

On Oct. 24, 1915…. Bob Kane was born.

What a day that was.  For Mr. Kane was the creator of Batman and Robin.

Coincidentally…..just this morning… I was talking with my older sister about all the times we played Batman and Robin while growing up.

She is four years older. She always got to be Batman. She also convinced me that Robin was a necessary sidekick. I complied.

We would pull our t-shirts up over our heads and tuck them behind our necks. We’d get big bath towels, or better yet, beach towels, and use the very largest safety pins to fasten them around those scrawny necks…. right near the jugular, I’ll tell you.

We’d put on tights (whatever color we could find)…. then wear our underpants on top of our tights, as well as knee socks for our boots.  Yes.  We were styling.

We would play outside like this until our Mother became privy. Then we were restricted to the upstairs of the house.

Diving off the bunk beds was a must. Slapping our fists into our palms, we’d exclaim….”Holy Cow… I think the Joker is behind this!”

We fought crime. We figured out the mysteries. We made the streets safe again. We were brave and strong. Little Superheroes.

These days I am still very interested in making the world a better place… somehow. Oh to be brave, and strong.

So I had better sign off now. You see….I have to go find a bath towel, some tights… and a very large safety pin.

“A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer. ”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

All the good newspapers have “advice” columns. They come in various forms and flavors, but a true news broadcasting effort is not complete without that “feature” of hints, tips, opinions, and pointers.

So, I’ve asked some pretty famous folks to assist me here…. with such a column.  Until we get this right,  we have not “arrived” in the world of journalism.

Dear Advice Column is what we will call it… until someone out there helps me with a better name.

Dear Advice Column,
People at work have been telling stories about me around the water cooler. What should I do?
Sincerely,
Victim of Rumors

Dear Victim,
Always remember… “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.”
Sincerely,
Oscar Wilde

Dear Advice Column,
I like to burn candles at the dinner table, but my husband thinks it is silly. Don’t you think it adds atmosphere to the evening meal?
Sincerely,
Waning for Wax

Dear Waxy,
“We will make electricity so cheap that only the rich will burn candles.” Flip on the lights.
Sincerely,
Thomas Edison

Dear Advice Column,
I think people who are interested in history are dull. What is the point?  History is boring and… ha, ha, ha…. in the past.
Sincerely,
The Dull Buster

Dear Dull,
“Study the past if you would define the future.”
Sincerely,
Confucius

Dear Advice Column,
I just had my 40th birthday, and I am feeling older than dirt. Any advice for the old and decrepit?
Sincerely,
Creaky

Dear Creakster,
“Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a cheese.”
Sincerely,
Billie Burke

Dear Advice Column,
I love my GPS in my car, but sometimes it gives me the wrong directions. What should I do?
Sincerely,
Lost in Yonkers

Dear Yonkers,
“You got to be careful if you don’t know where you’re going, because you might not get there.”
Sincerely,
Yogi Berra

Ahhhhhh.  We have arrived.

Today on a talk show… we saw the World’s Largest Pumpkin. It was huge. Enormous. 1850 pounds gargantuan. I’m telling you… that Peter fella’ would’ve had plenty to eat with that old pumpkin. He could’ve kept his wife in that thing too.  Very well.

This time of year brings all sorts of surprises along those lines. People dress up in all kinds of costumes. Like…witches, M&Ms, and Richard Nixon-heads. We put pumpkins here and there… and hang figurines about. Campfires, hayrides, ghost stories, candy giving. I like it all. It is one of my favorites times of all.

I guess I like it so much mostly because I still believe there is magic in the world. You know those moments in life… when something totally amazing happens and you can’t quite explain it. It stops you in your tracks and it feels just like… well… just like magic.  You can’t put your finger on it.

Call it what you will. Call it fate, Blessings, Divine Miracles, luck, coincidences of the universe, Karma, good fortune, magic, and so on. It makes NO difference what you name it. At least, I don’t think it does.

The important thing is recognizing it… and being grateful for it. I believe that experiencing gratitude helps to build our character. It wards off things like cynicism, negativity, and discontent.

I am thankful for pumpkins. In fact, we bought 7 of them (my favorite number)… and placed them at the front of our house. Now, keep in mind that Meeting Street is a busy place in Charleston. We have boat loads (literally) of tourists here.

Well, the first night out, 3 of the pumpkins were stolen. The second night… one was smashed. However, in exchange… the passers-by left us lots of empty Busch Light cans. But never mind all of that. We’ve all made bad decisions in our lives. The last couple of nights, we just happened to come across some folks who have an umbrage with the Gourd Family. Perhaps they were lost in a corn maze once. Who knows.

What it really tells me is that……. there are good and decent people in this world. Even though we are down 4 pumpkins… THREE of them remain. Think how many people passed who did NOT steal or smash those orange fruits. Lots.

Yep. Just one more reason to believe in magic.

“That’s the thing with magic. You’ve got to know it’s still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.” – Charles de Lint

“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others.” -Marcel Tullius Cicero

Today was a stellar food day I’ll tell you. Stellar.

Now there’s a word…. stellar. It is great for describing the extraordinary. The Marvelous. The Exceptional. I kind of like the word, except for one thing.

It reminds me of “A Streetcar Named Desire.” Now while that is a classic movie, the scene where Brando holds onto the light post and yells “Stellllllllllaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh”…. always bugs the crap out of me.

I’m not sure why. It is not like it’s the old and fat Marlon Brandon.   No, not at all.  He is the young, cute, buff Brando. But…. as an actor… well…. I was never totally impressed with old Marlon. I think Streetcar was probably his best.

For instance….when he played Jor-El in Superman, and we saw his big face on that mirror thing… all stuck and spinning forever in space. Holy Cow. Somebody go get Stella, will ya’?

At any rate, I am not sure why the “Stella” thing bugs me in that old movie. I’ve only met maybe 2 or 3 Stella’s in all my life… and I don’t know any of them very well at all.   I don’t even think I have any imaginary Facebook Friends named Stella.  So it can’t be the name. I guess it is just the way Marlon yelled it. Stelllllllllllaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. That’s got to be it.

Most of the time, I love old movies. But the other day we were channel flicking, and happened across an old Elvis movie. Harum Scarum. Now once again, this was young and beautiful Elvis…. not old and fat with sideburns Elvis. But the acting was so incredibly bad we had to laugh out loud and with loads of certitude. This was worse than the Stella incident. There were lots of men in unconvincing skull cap helmets… trying hard to look menacing. Elvis was supposed to kill the Arab king… while surrounded by scantily clad babes…..who belly danced…. while he sang about everything. Harum Scary.

But what did I want to talk about tonight?  Oh….. that’s right. Our stellar food day.

Boy oh boy. It was out of this world. I’ll have to give you all the details about when I have more time to write.

This much I can tell you though… my biscuits crumbled on my plate like Blanche Dubois’ reality crumbled around her. It was…. well…..Stellar.

People sure are important. But there are two kinds of “important”. At least, that’s what I think. There are those folks in life that show you love, care, compassion, and tenderness. They have warm and giving hearts. They make the world a better place for being it it. They share their experience, strength, and hope.  They are stars to me… as bright and brilliant as they come.

Then, there are the other kind of important folks. I call them the “Too Big For Their Britches Bunch” or TBFTBBs. BFBs for short. Some people are so dang pivotal and consequential, they will be the first to tell you so. Oh… maybe they don’t saunter right up to you and say…”You know Joe. I am about as prestigious and significant as they come.” But they will show you in other ways. They are good at it.  They have a real case of themselves.

Up the street from us, we are fortunate enough to know the “Gullah Basket Weavers.” These are warm-hearted, good-natured ladies (and some gentlemen) who have learned the West African Slave “Art & Tradition” of Gullah Basket Weaving. They pass it down, from generation to generation.  They tell great stories.  They are gifted Artisans.

Downtown here…. there isn’t any city “permit” system for these ladies to occupy the sidewalk and sell their wares. No. The “spot” on the street also has been handed down from generation to generation, and they are all very respectful of the social stratum. It is a Charleston Historical Tradition.  It is cool, really.

So now back to the TBFTBBs. They remind me of Dr. Seuss’ Star-Bellied Sneetches. These folks are so important, that they don’t even acknowledge the presence of of these ladies on the street. They pass them by, day in and day out… in their suits and fine dresses. They cannot say hello, or smile at these women. No. These BFBs have much more paramount and momentous items on their agendas. There are luncheons to go to, hair appointments, real estate deals, and “charity” functions to attend at the Yacht Club.

I know it bothers these ladies. They have told us so.

It bothers me too.

The fact of the matter is…… none of us are perfect. There have been times in my life when I probably got too big for my britches. And…that bothers me too.

But these days, I try to remember that I am merely a speck. From dust I came and that is where I will return. Carl Sagan once said…“Who are we? We find that we live on an insignificant planet of a humdrum star lost in a galaxy tucked away in some forgotten corner of a universe in which there are far more galaxies than people.”

Now if today’s writing doesn’t cheer you right up…. I don’t know what will.

But no matter what Sagan says… many of you are stars to me.  Shine on.

Sometimes we let things screw up our MoJo.

Yep, we can get off track. It could be the silliest little thing that happens in our “comings and goings”.  And BOOM. Before you know it, we are in a sour mood, and the rest of the day feels like it will continue to spiral downward from that point on.

My morning started out that way.

I truly thought I was going to blow a gasket. And I am not even sure where my gasket is. (It might be right below my sternum… or maybe it is near my temples.  I just don’t know.)

Anyway, I got flustered over a whole lot of nothing.  Nothing.

Luckily, I was able to shake it off pretty quickly. But there are times when it doesn’t seem like a possibility to let it go.

Keeping that arrow pointing due north is hard to do when the rest of me is heading west. I always hope the wind will shift… and with it… the direction of that arrow.

Truth be told…..I don’t like being down wind of anything.  Not really.

“Peace is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to cope with it”
– R. Emerson

Tonight I am watching “House on Haunted Hill”…. not the remake… but the original version. It was made in 1959. Stars Vincent Price, Carol Ohmart, and Richard Long… to name a few. Ol’ Vinnie-boy is a gazillionaire… and he offers group of people $10,000 each if they’ll spend a night in spooky, creaky, gray old mansion. And, what a host! He even provides loaded guns as party favors. Now, while this scared my little knickers right off me when I was a kid… this evening it is just silly.  In a classical way.   Remarkably funny, really.

So somebody explain to me… why is it…. that certain likes, dislikes, fears, and mannerisms leave us as we get older… while others stick to us like glue?

When I was fairly young, I loved Bleu Cheese, Curious George, and Professional Football. I still enjoy all those things very much.  I also took great pleasure in eating paste right out of the jar, seek-n-find word puzzles, and tube socks. Hmmm. Not so much any more… two-thumbs down on any of the those items.

Another for instance. I was deathly afraid of spiders. These days, I think they are kind of neat (except when they bite me). On the other hand, those bald-headed-life-sized baby dolls used to frighten me. Guess what. I STILL think those things are extremely creepy, disturbing, sinister and possibly menacing. When I watch Toy Story 3, I have to cover my eyes every time the Baby comes on the screen.

I saw this Baby Doll lying on the sidewalk. I had to stay way on the other side of the street and shoot it with a zoom lens. I was terrified.

Maybe I am alone in this phenomenon. This keeping hold of certain childhood attributes and idiosyncrasies… while losing others.

But now that I think of it…. there is something a little wrong with the final scenario….

House on Haunted Hill = Hilarious
Toy Story 3 = Scary

To infinity and beyond.