Fridays With Willis

Outside my window, a large variety of birds happily flit among the branches of Oak, Pine, Sweetgum, plus an assortment of other green growth. One morning a couple of weeks ago, as we sat on the front porch, a doe crept up and paused. She stood still for more than five minutes. Then a fawn crept near her. They went to one of the bird feeders, and underneath, where birds had scattered seeds, they had snacks.

Jane once saw a racoon hanging upside down by his four feet, frantically eating sunflower seeds from a bird feeder. If all this nature talk gives you a warm heart for all of God’s creatures—not so fast. While it is lovely and tranquil, there are cautions. It is exceedingly difficult, and in some cases, impossible to have beautiful flowering shrubs, or a delightful garden. 

Jane has tried virtually every shrub and garden plant, “guaranteed” to be deer-proof. “Deer won’t touch this!” we’re reassured. Sometimes the very plant never known to be eaten by deer, is eaten in a single night. She’s even tried non-toxic, but repellent, sprays to deter deer. No luck. So far hanging baskets around our front porch are the only safe haven from deer, and that’s only because the deer don’t know about stilts.

As I write this, Ruby-throated hummingbirds are all aflutter around the feeding stations. According to Jane, we are witnessing an abundance of mating dances. I’m just learning about these lightning-fast hummingbirds. These tiny birds, weighing less than two-tenths of an ounce, migrate annually from Mexico and Central America to the eastern United States and eastern and central Canada to breed. Many fly non-stop over the Gulf of Mexico to reach their eastern-most breeding area. They and their offspring will return to their birthplace every year for as long as they live.

We will be blessed later this summer when we see their fledglings zooming among the feeders until they are strong enough to depart in mid-September for their winter homes. It is a wonder of nature that these tiny birds, as small as a seamstress’ thimble, can embark successfully on such a long migration journey, and most specially, annually return to the very spot of their birth.

Thinking about these “tiny miracles” reminds me of the Hymn; “All Creatures of our God and King:” 

Let all things their Creator bless,
And worship Him in humbleness,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Praise, praise the Father, praise the Son,
And praise the Spirit, Three in One!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

Michelle Cyca, a writer for The Walrus, a Canadian newsletter, has had enough of “helicopter parents” and “bulldozer/snowplow parenting.” Helicopter parents stay close to their children, either physically or through smart devices, in the mistaken belief that they are keeping them safe and helping them not make mistakes. The snowplow parent removes obstacles to help make “life easier” for their kids.

Cyca wrote: “I resist the urge to intervene: to fit the puzzle pieces together for my red-faced toddler or help him clamber up a playground ladder; to conjure up a constant stream of activities to fill my kindergartener’s weekend afternoons or at least let her watch TV. I let them struggle with the existential question of how to pass the time…”

Cyca chooses to make things harder for her children, not easier. Her goal is, as far as reasonable, to prepare her children for the bumps and scrapes life always has to offer. Helicopter parents attend a little league ballgame, screaming directions from the bleachers to their child in the game. And it gets even worse when they disagree with an umpire’s call; they scream vitriolic epithets of vituperation.

Obstacles come into everyone’s life. Some are worse than others. We learn to handle challenges as we encounter them. Childhood is their training ground for adulthood. Wise parents provide safe spaces for their children to freely choose and do things children need to do. A child can and will trip over a stone or root. Cuts and bruises happen. In everyday living, a child learns to look at where they are going, pick up feet over the obstacle, stop before running into a wall. We cannot, and should not expect, to shield our children from every bump and scrape.

Cyca also said,” Each individual act of intervention, each minor adjustment you make to your child’s path that prevents them from a meltdown or a disappointment, can feel like the right move. But in the long run, experts warn that these controlling practices may hinder healthy emotional and psychological development.” Human beings are complex. Mind, body, and spirit are intricately connected. I once saw a little boy come out of a doctor’s office; everything had checked out fine, but he did have a small bandage. His mother said, “We’ll get rid of that bandage before you leave for school.” He said, “No. I want to leave it on!” To him it was a badge of courage.

If parents want to develop responsible, dependable children, they must lead by example. The children will learn by following such examples along with parental encouragement, not a parental replacement.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

Everyone has, and is, a mentor–officially or not and whether or not you realize it. A mentor, in the most basic sense, is someone who has an influence on you—or similarly, the influence you have on someone. Today, I’m not getting into the official or technical connotation of mentor. You are a mentor, regardless of any formal or informal agreement. Someone looks to you for something you do or how you act—they admire your uniqueness. In this realm, you hold vast influence now and for some time in the future for that person.

For example, remind yourself of “old Mr. Shorty,” the school lawnmower guy when you were in third grade. He always oiled, cleaned, and adjusted its blade before carefully starting the engine. Now as an adult, you find yourself doing the same before you mow your own lawn. Mr. Shorty was a mentor to you—tell him so sometime, preferably sooner than later. Tell your other mentors too if they are still alive.

One day you happen to be in your neighborhood bookstore. A young woman is paying for her book. While you are still in line you notice she sits at a table nearby. She gets out her book and opens it carefully. Alternatively, from one cover to the other, she glides her finger through sections, then opens it to read. A memory flashes in your mind. You walk over and introduce yourself, saying, “How did you learn to prepare that book so as to avoid breaking its spine?” She says, “Oh, I saw you do that when I bought a book at a store where you worked, years ago.” You were unaware, but you had mentored her.

The same thing often happens with negative results; someone sees a behavior or an attitude that is mean, dishonest, or just plain inappropriate, certainly not the influence we would intend to make. We cannot unsee what we have seen, nor unhear what we have heard. Certain things may influence us in extremely negative or destructive ways and are exceedingly difficult to unstick from our psyche. When those actions create mental health issues, they spill over into our interpersonal relationships. Professional help may be necessary.

Jesus, and later, Henry James emphasizes that whatever we think about most, we become. Think of it in terms of an acronym from the earliest computer days; GIGO-Garbage In Garbage Out. Memory–the built-in mentor.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

Maps: for the illiterate of you (Merriam- Webster’s 2nd definition specifically—: illiterate: showing or marked by a lack of acquaintance with the fundamentals of a particular field of knowledge). I’m confident that you, my reader, are an almost-daily user of a GPS, or its equivalent, in your vehicle. I want to acquaint you with a map.

Maps are more than position locators. Maps give perspective. For my purpose here, I refer to the Official Georgia State Map. This map not only shows the entire state, but also cities, towns, and tiny villages. Topography may be indicated on some maps but not on this particular Map. I love this particular map because it is a virtual library of Georgia information.

While the GPS gives you point-to-point direction, maps show you where you are. A while back the County changed my address. The GPS showed an old address. The map– just as old as that GPS—gave perspective and kept me from being lost–as in “Oh, so that’s where I need to go.” 

I’m sometimes called “A Map Nerd.” I am. Knowing a map also gives social connection. I often ask someone new, “Did you grow up here?” They may say, “No. I grew up in Montrose, GA. I’m able to say, “Oh, that’s near Dublin, in Laurens County!” That introductory greeting leads to a friendly conversation. It’s even better when I respond like, “Oh, do you know Daniel Yoder?” and they follow with “Yes, we were on the Soccer team together.” 

Reading and appreciating a map is an education on another level. Georgia is the largest state in land mass, east of the Mississippi River! Most people in Georgia move or have moved several times in their lifetime. Knowing the layout of the State, its cities, towns, and villages offers a ready reach for social acquaintance. When meeting someone new, you may not make instant connection but knowing something of their geographic location helps.

Oh. One other thing; the GPS won’t work when it cannot get a satellite signal. That happened to Jane and me near Lake Sinclair as we descended into those steep valleys. You can pick up a free copy of the current Georgia State Roadmap at any GDOT office, Georgia Welcome Center, or State Patrol Office. One other point; this map is huge, but sturdy. GPS offers route-value; maps offer many.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

My earliest memory of a May Day celebration, was at Deepstep Grammar School. The grades of 1-5 came up with the brilliant idea of celebrating with a “May Pole Dance.” A tall pole was placed on the playground with colored streamers attached at the top. We practiced for the celebration to be held later that week on, well, May Day. The idea was to create a colorful weave of the streamers as we students weaved in and out of each other’s path.

The idea was something akin to a strange amalgam of a Jewish wedding dance and a Square Dance Do-se-do. Ours didn’t even come close to a Maypole dance.! The teachers finally gave up after the streamers were knotted, destroyed, or wasted. (We students managed to hide our delight!) We still had the picnic, though.

According to The Old Farmers’ Almanac, May Day has an interesting and colorful history: As with many early holidays, May Day was rooted in agriculture. Springtime festivities filled with song and dance celebrated the sown fields starting to sprout. Cattle were driven to pasture, special bonfires were lit, and the doors of houses and livestock were decorated with yellow May flowers. In the Middle Ages, the Gaelic people celebrated the festival of Beltane, which means “Day of Fire.” People created large bonfires and danced at night to celebrate. 

May Day is not a national holiday, but according to Britannica, Labor Day, which is a national holiday, has its roots in May Day Celebrations, The Hay Market Affair in Chicago was a brutal event which initated International Workers’ Day ce;ebrated on May 1.  President Grover Cleveland, uneasy about the accociation with Spcoa;osts. moved the celebrationof workers to the first Monday in September, calling it Labor Day. It preserved a recogntion of workers while dodging the danger of rioting workers.

But I digress. According to Britannica, Maypole dances often occur on May 1. The Maypole dance,  which we unsuccessfully attempted at Deepstep Grammar school, is a ceremonial folk dance performed around a tall pole garlanded with greenery or flowers and often hung with ribbons that are woven into complex patterns by the dancers. Such dances are survivals of ancient dances around a living tree as part of spring rites to ensure fertility. Typically performed on May Day (May 1), they also occur at midsummer in Scandinavia and at other festivals elsewhere. 

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

This is for those of you who woke up this morning saying, “At last! National Pigs-in-a-Blanket-Day has arrived!” For those of you poor, benighted readers, this is your day to titillate your tastebuds. Or not. I have known about Pigs-in-a-Blanket most of my adult life. It was made more widely known when Irma S. Rombauer published the 1957 issue of “The Joy of Cooking.”

This national day of celebration emerged in the mid 1990’s. It may have emerged about the time Y2K-2000 bludgeoned its malaise into the forefront — muting cultural comfort, interfering with this noble entry. Nobody knows. It is thought that the concept of Pigs-in-a-Blanket has been around in the US since the earliest settlers. The 1957 Betty Crocker Cookbook For Boys and Girls lists the recipe for it, but even that took another forty or so years to catch on. You can find Pigs-in-a-Blanket now in your local Publix supermarket.

Now Pigs-in-a-Blanket has its own National holiday, clearly not on the same scale as Memorial Day or Labor Day, but still, it is called, well, a “national holiday.” Go figure. And why not? With all the pain of politics, and civic chaos, we need a little levity. Food is a ready companion for almost any celebration. So there you have it. Have a Pigs-in-a-Blanket cooking contest; set up an eating contest for whoever eats the most Pigs-in-a-Blanket. Or as I bemoan, most citizens will just ignore it.

Yet and still, today’s holiday is a clever way to spend the day. Fun does not always need to be organized and advertised. While I was writing this, I took a break, sitting on the front porch. Above the chatter and chirping of birds, I heard laughter. Beyond the saplings in the edge of our yard, I saw neighbor children playing. They were having the time of their life! Joyfully, they played, not organized, but not with expensive, complex toys; just running, playing, and laughing.

National Pigs-in-a-Blanket Day does not call for parades, school holidays, or a flag on your porch. But it is playful. In an article in Psychology Today, Hara Estroff Marano wrote, Play appears to allow our brains to exercise their very flexibility, to maintain and even perhaps renew the neural connections that embody our human potential to adapt, to meet any possible set of environmental conditions. So have fun playing! Exercise your brain having fun! Carpe diem!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

On this day, April 17, 1970, there was great rejoicing, nationwide, as three American Apollo 13 astronauts splashed down safely in the Pacific Ocean. The success followed three and a half days of death-defying-drama. An onboard explosion had severely damaged the spacecraft. The three had to abort the mission — oxygen, navigation equipment, food, and spacecraft-to-Earth communication became severely limited. In great danger, they transferred into the re-entry capsule. Nationally, we held our breath.

Early this month, the nation held its breath again, as we awaited the launch of Artemis, destined to encircle, but not land on, the moon. It has been 50 years since the USA launched a moonshot. Staffing, experience, and, well, US interest in space travel had waned to almost nothing. Hence, as we awaited the “lift-off,” the few seconds of “hold” kinda gave onlookers a lurch. But then, the blast-off was spectacular!

There will be little if any grand celebration today. Baseball games, the weather, and graduation ceremonies will likely take the forefront in discussions and the news. Short-term memory is the nemesis of humanity. Part of that brief memory vapor may have a direct link to how deeply we resonate with an event, its humanity, its impact on ourselves, or the degree of compassion we have for the actors involved.

When the Children of Israel crossed the Jordan into the Promised Land, Joshua had them bring twelve stones from the riverbed. They piled the stones as a memorial. Joshua told them that down through the years, their children will see the stones and ask, “What do these stones mean?” This would give the elders a chance to teach their children about their deliverance from slavery in Egypt and how God guided them to deliverance.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

Fog can be dangerous. By definition, fog is vapor condensed to fine particles of water suspended in the lower atmosphere that differs from cloud only in being near the ground. In political speech, for example, fog is a state of confusion or bewilderment; something that confuses or obscures. In both definitions, the result can create disaster if not dealt with “in wisdom and clarity.”

Taking flying lessons, I learned to respect the meteorological definition. I remembered a tragedy near my college campus. A local businessman who owned an airplane, was showing the city to a college athlete. It was a late afternoon flight and lasted a bit too long. Fog settled in, and the pilot was not instrument-rated. Apparently, the pilot, seeing the lights of the four-lane highway thought it was the runway. Unfortunately, he crashed into a nearby pine thicket, and both the pilot and passenger were killed.

Foggy thinking can be dangerous also. There is a carpenter’s rule; “Measure twice. Cut once!” And long before OSHA’s familiar warnings, we remember well the ubiquitous admonition, “Safety First!” Do you remember the Johnny Nash song entitled, “I Can See Clearly Now”?

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-shiny day
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-shiny day

Clouds are just fog with altitude. All this aside, it is clear (pun intended) that clear planning and clear thinking are crucial to congenial living. Unfortunately, there is a profusion of foggy language as our state and national laws are used, abused, and confused, all too often. By flooding discussions with foggy language, peppered with high sounding terms, sinister promoters can have the sound of authority, with little or only sketchy content.

“Word salad,” is one way to describe a foggy speech, where the intent is to confuse or diffuse facts to the audience. Shakespear’s McBeth says it better in his soliloquy, after the death of Lady McBeth; he faced the meaninglessness of life. He said, life is “…full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

In the Bible, the Book of James (5:12) there is a strong admonition to keep your language out of the foggy range; speak with a simple “Yes” or “No,” or else you may fall under judgment.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

Everybody needs an Easter — “A time of renewal following a dreary or hard time in life.” (The Revised Willis Version) Merriam Webster defines Easter accurately, and more in line with what you were thinking, before reading my version: a Christian holiday celebrating Christ’s resurrection that is observed on the first Sunday following the first full moon on or after March 21^st. So there, you have the meteorological reason the date of Easter changes every year.

While Irving Berlin may not have been the catalyst causing the commercialization of Easter, his song, Easter Parade, certainly had a part:

In your Easter bonnet
With all the frills upon it
You’ll be the grandest lady in the Easter parade.
I’ll be all in clover
And when they look you over,
I’ll be the proudest fellow in the Easter parade.

In earlier times, ladies’ Easter bonnets were quite popular attire, especially at church. If you follow the cartoon, Curtis, you find a plethora of bonnet jokes his younger brother, Barry, cracks at church, much to the embarrassment of Curtis and their mother. (Their bonnets really are spectacular!). Even though “church attire” has changed dramatically, in many circles, the Easter dress remains colorful.

Easter Egg hunts are a staple for children. When I was a kid, real hen eggs, colored for the occasion, were carefully hidden for the hunt. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and in-laws usually gathered on Sunday after church, in a green, wooded glen, chosen earlier by Granddaddy, for the annual picnic and Easter Egg Hunt. It usually followed the one held on Saturday at the church. The family Easter Egg hunt remained crucial for us children.

Easter, in the Northern Hemisphere, is a dramatic time of renewal. Trees and shrubs, which for months seemed to be dead, blossom. Tiny green shoots pop up through the formerly cold soil, bringing bees, blossoms, and butterflies. The earth is astir with new life, brilliant with color and freshness. People who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) can have light dispelling their disorder.

Easter for Christians the world over brings blessed hope. For the past six weeks, the call to self-denial has been a time to reflect on their call to follow Jesus. Self-denial is a spiritual discipline intentionally to draw one closer to God. Over those weeks of paying attention to the inner spirit, the groundwork is laid for newness in Christ joyfully to emerge.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026

This weekend, mainstream Christians the world over, celebrate Palm Sunday — Catholics, Orthodox, Protestant, Anglican, Moravian, Reformed, and other congregations join the celebration. Palm Sunday begins Holy Week, which is sometimes called Passion Week. Each of the four Gospels tells the story of this Holy Event. Different branches of mainstream Christianity shape their observance of the day and week according to their culture and geography.

The core event of Palm Sunday is a joyous parade of the faithful, waving branches of palms or native trees. In the Gospel story, the followers not only waved palm branches but also laid them in Jesus’ pathway. Some followers also laid their garments on the ground as well. It was a joyful, exuberant parade cheering “The King of the Jews.”

Some churches, with the space to do so, include a real-live donkey in their Palm Sunday parade down the aisle — an effort to reenact that ancient procession. Some churches pin two palm pieces in the shape of the cross for worshippers to wear during worship.

Palm branches can also be saved for use next year — they are safely stored to maintain their shape for the beginning of Lent. The branches are then brought out for Ash Wednesday. Having become thoroughly dry by then, the branches are burned, and their ashes are used in the solemn Ash Wednesday worship service for “the imposition of the ashes.”

Palestine was under Roman domination. As often happens when cultures mingle, especially in wartime, practices of one culture migrate into that of another. In the Greco-Roman culture, palm branches were often used in victory marches and triumphal celebrations. The crowds following Jesus to Jerusalem, according to all four Gospels, were caught up in the exuberance of this celebrative event.

Celebrating Palm Sunday may be as varied as national anthems are. Although based on the Gospels’ recounting of the event, using palm branches is not possible everywhere. Fronds with shapes similar to palms can be used, sometimes surprising Western Christians who may interpret this deviation as odd or unexpected. 

Having lived much of my life in Southern Georgia, I’ve seen variations in celebrating Palm Sunday. The closest we ever came to seeing a palm branch at Deepstep was the Palmetto fronds from the Oconee River swamp. They served well and looked remarkably similar to the palm branches of Palestine. After all, we are really celebrating Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, not attempting to be botanically correct.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2026