October 20, 2025. Thus begins the Final Chapter in our series. “Make it a good one, Strap.”
My day, a typical Monday like any other, begins with a shower and shave and short commute to work. This morning dawns chilly as it seems like Fall has arrived for good after several weeks of unseasonably warm temperatures. I hope it lingers longer than a week or so.
The morning includes a health-related community engagement away from the office. My job charges me with directing events and initiatives promoting healthier lifestyles and physical activity. I’m an active walker and people often see me out and about, so I have the second part down. On the other hand, I’m not proud of my diet and a favorite pastime of mine is hanging out with friends over an “adult soda.” I believe I strike a happy medium between the two on most days. My habits don’t interfere with work I am paid for, nor time or responsibilities to my family. There is some family history of the opposite, so I am always mindful of that with myself and those I interact with.
Today is a bit of a wind-down from an action-packed weekend that featured Ball State’s Homecoming and football game as well as a second (for me anyway) public protest of the current administration. I’ve referenced these demonstrations before, and the reaction of an alarming number of Munsonians to them. There seems to be a lot of hurt feelings and anger over the expression of Constitutional rights. I feel less unity and one-ness with these folks by the passing year and am dreading the Semiquincentennial coming in 2026. (My prediction is American marketing shorthand will eventually coin this as the “SQC”). I can recall the Bicentennial among my first memories and had anticipated celebrating this coming event as it may be my last civic milestone, as it certainly will be for my elder family.
I started to pass on Fourth of July celebrations years ago, not for political reasons, but the potentially explosive combination of people’s personal fireworks, their dogs and unchecked kids all in the same place. Since then, they’ve come to feel like one big political rally. Events like Saturday’s lead me to wonder more about the “identity” in the community for myself and some of my friends that I’ve touched on in the last EDLM directive and my last diary entry this spring. It feels as if people who think like me or question the actions and statements of our leadership -and I’m hardly a radical or even politically liberal- are no longer desired in this community and state. Instead, there is a push for more “positivity” and certainly no “woke,” or calling out of issues facing vulnerable people. Our local newspaper used to raise some awareness of these situations, but it was eventually neutered by corporate mismanagement, the general financial challenges in big journalism, and local hurt feelings over negative reporting, a poor restaurant review or some kind of snub in youth sports coverage. Part of my work depends on getting attention and resources to people in need, not sweeping them under the rug.
My day at work also includes documentation of the screenings I coordinated earlier and a similar event last week. This documentation is used to report on our activities that are directed toward community needs and to underline that we are indeed worthy of the economic benefits we receive as a public health provider. I’ve encountered a number of people who feel we are perpetuating a revenue stream from sick people and coasting on a free ride from the government. This felt particularly ugly during the pandemic. We could produce mountains of evidence to the contrary, but some people believe what they want to believe.
I’m out the door for a short break and a walk around the office campus to clear my head. It’s a nice afternoon and I have a commitment this evening that won’t allow me time for a good walk. I try to get moving a few times a day and am an avid user of our local trail system, as noted in my previous entries. I’ve always enjoyed walking or cycling for solitary exercise, as running beats up my knees and casts an unflattering, almost mocking shadow up at me. The long walks initially began as an excuse to get out of the house during tense periods in my old marriage and developed into a beneficial mental exercise and generator of clear ideas and self-reflection. It also helps me at least maintain a reasonable weight and disposition counter to some of my unhealthier habits.
Arriving home, I open the mail to a reminder of a happy milestone a few weeks past: A thank-you note from my eldest daughter from her wedding party. She had gotten married in a private ceremony a week prior, and this was their mutual celebration with close friends and a small guest list. It was precisely the ceremony they wanted and organized, a departure from the much larger, church-oriented and more social ceremony her mother and I had, back when those more formal weddings were the norm. We had a nice event but it wasn’t truly ours, rather a party funded entirely by our families. Receiving a prompt, unbidden thank-you note in 2025 for attending and helping fund the celebration is a reminder of how she has fully grown up, as have my other children. Her sister resides in Kentucky, and her brother has finished college and just recently accepted new employment beginning next month in Indianapolis. They’re all pursuing individual passions and not just chasing salary dollars -although that would be nice too- and their mother and I couldn’t be prouder of the people they’ve become. Our marriage did not last, but hopefully we’re sharing good products of it with our future society. It’s also a reminder that I will soon have not the need for the 3-bedroom house we’ve called home since returning to Muncie more than 20 years ago. The next year will bring about some home repairs and a search for something smaller, and maybe even the end of lawn care and cleaning gutters. New beginnings are around the corner, and it will feel strange looking for a place as a single, middle-aged man with different priorities.
Tonight, my final EDLM diary concludes with a craft beer share at an out-of-town establishment. I’m there to enjoy the camaraderie of friends, but the setting and some higher-octane drinks risks the possibility of really wrapping up this diary with a bang. The understood need to be responsible has been driven home by a few incidents involving people known to me of late, and I mix copious amounts of water and provided food into my indulgences. There’s also a little celebratory feeling in the air as I feel I’ve wrapped up a project and made some small contribution to the story of Middletown, even if it is only of typical days in the typical American community.