Monthly Archives: February 2015

The Road to 65, Mile 71: What If They Gave A Desert, and Nobody Came?

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Posted by on in Travel

February 7, 2015, El Paso to San Antonio-  The most notable thing about many deserts is the stillness, even on an Interstate highway.  I set out from El Paso around 10, after making a visit to Cracker Barrel, for a small but satisfying breakfast.  I don’t patronize chains very often, and hadn’t been in one of those bustling, overstuffed establishments with the big front porch, in almost three years.  It was fun to look at the plethora of snack foods and old signs from the 19th and early 20th centuries, and to play Triangle Pegs, a couple more times.  The service was good, and the food, forgettable.

The traffic headed into El Paso today was jammed up, tighter than Mid-town Manhattan.  On the other hand, those of us headed eastward were relatively few in number.  We got even fewer once the road passed the last turn-offs to Chihuahua.  The desert of the same name was equally austere, except for a handful of the region’s signature yucca plants.  Below, are the Franklin Mountains, the link between the Rockies and Sierra Madre.

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The silence of the Chihuahua occasionally gets broken, by the presence of tough, and alternately congenial and taciturn folks, who are gathered in towns like Sierra Blanca, Balmorhea and Van Horn.  The last is the largest community in the I-10 corridor, east of El Paso and west of the Hill Country.  I stopped for lunch at La Cocina de Maria, a “Mom” place that draws the locals away from the branch of San Antonio-based Chuy’s.  Maria’s enchiladas are strictly Tex-Mex, but with home-made sauce and the salsa that went with the chips was Maria’s own.

SAM_3836 Another aspect of Van Horn life:  If it seems nobody is giving any thought to reforesting the High Chihuahua, think again.  Mountain View RV Park is maintaining a healthy grove of pines.

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I pressed on, stopping only in highway rest areas, for the obligatory stretch and strut.  The mountains call, from a safe distance.  I will drive the stretch between Uvalde and Van Horn, on the way back to Arizona, but for now:  This is a view, looking south towards Big Bend.

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The Hill Country starts to beckon, around Ozona.

SAM_3838  Not long after that, I found myself pulling off at Sonora, a town named for the Chihuahua Desert’s western neighbour.  Like Sonora, California, the Texas version is not so much desertified, but gives off an air of tough and dusty.  The early oil riggers liked it here.

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By  the time I reached Junction, barbecued brisket was calling my name, so I pulled into Lum’s.

SAM_3843 The cafeteria style that distinguishes so many Texas barbecue places is in effect here, but the family that runs Lum’s is down home friendly and payment is after the meal, almost on the honour system.  I’m certain, though, that cheaters and meal-beaters would run into Bubba, if they had a mind to take advantage of the situation.  The brisket was good, and the sauce a bit mild, but satisfying.  I’d stop at Lum’s again, if I pass through Junction.

San Antonio, which I reached around 8 PM, was full-on bustle- it being Saturday night and all.  I will save visits to the Missions and King William District for my return trip.  It was enough to get to the East Side, rent a room at a little place called Spur Motel and head out to look for wifi, as the Spur is one of only four motels at which I have parked my carcass, that haven’t had Internet. It was reasonable, though, so I took my trusty laptop and headed to a nearby McDonald’s, always good for Internet service, to post the successful journey across the Texas Outback.

The Road to 65, Mile 70: Seeds for Future Fruits

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

February 6, 2015, El Paso-  Day One of my present journey started with a round of prayers, at the home of my steadfast morning devotions partner.  Getting my car’s tires rotated and balanced was the next order of business, along with a “Cheater’s Breakfast” of cinnamon crumb Bear Claw and coffee.  No apologies to the Diet Police are in order.

I set out around 11:30, headed through my oft-trod route of I-17, AZ 101 and US 60, past the Valley of the Sun, the Superstition Mountains, and across eastern Arizona and southern New Mexico. There were few stops, as my late start dictated making tracks.  Dinner was healthy, grilled cod and lightly steamed mixed vegetables at Kranberry’s, the best restaurant in Lordsburg, NM.  The day ended with a gorgeous 3/4 moon, rising over Las Cruces, as I made one last stop at the Rest Area,just west of town.  Then, El Paso came into view, thirty minutes later and I settled into this comfortable Red Roof Inn.

I have not taken photos of the intervening locales, as they will be subjects of weekend excursions between this March and December, 2016.  The delights are many:  More of the Superstitions; Superior and Boyce Thompson Arboretum; Globe and Miami; San Carlos Apache Community; the flats of Graham County and their eponymous mountain; the Duncan Valley and, to its north,  the Graham-Greenlee Trail, roughly between Safford and Clifton.  Then, too, there remain a return to Silver City and Gila Cliff Dwellings, a possible astronomy weekend, somewhere outside Lordsburg, and a few hours in the Deming area.

See how this whole road trip thing is a series of Chinese boxes, or Katuschka dolls?  Well, the missions are always manifold- Prayers, spiritual conversations, and educating about oils are parts of any journey, beyond just seeing things and taking photos.  So, I will head on over to breakfast, as it’s already Saturday morning- and bring my supplements with me.  Health is a fine conversation starter.

The Road to 65, Mile 69: The East Parking Lot

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February 5, 2015, Prescott-  I read something in the paper today about a major Men’s Overflow Shelter in Phoenix, which is closing.  It will be replaced by a new shelter, “later this year”.  In the meantime, people affected by this closure- all individuals with various social ills- will be “housed” in the parking lot adjacent to the condemned building.  It has Port-a- Potties, and lots of space, but no shade.

I had a brief experience, helping a transient man, during January.  He has a vehicle now, and so he has moved on.  Few such people get out of their dire straits so easily.The people in the situation mentioned above will likely find their ways to various city parks, libraries (a good place to get out of the heat, during regular library hours) and shopping malls.  Some even go to Indian casinos, where they can chow down on bar food, provided they’ve cleaned up a bit.

Homelessness does generate resourcefulness.  I had a brief experience with it in 1977, in the dead of a Bangor, ME winter, but there were a few couches on which to surf, and my car was large enough to hold all my possessions, at the time.  As luck would have it, I rented a room within three days of being evicted.  Said eviction, I found out later, was on false pretenses, but no matter.  I had a great experience with my new landlady and her family.

Every town has its homeless.  What is done with, and to, the unfortunates is a mirror of what the given community thinks of itself.  Utah, and some places in Idaho, offer mini-houses, rather than forcing people to congregate on the streets.  Portland has people sleeping in doorways of businesses.  Many merchants seem to regard the door minders as part of their business family, and let them use the restroom to sponge bathe and groom themselves, before the normal business hours begin.  In Arizona, we have shelters, which are often dependent on how cold the nights are, or how hot the days, as to when they are actually open.  Some Florida communities give their transients one-way bus tickets, out of town.  Hawaii has a few beaches which seem to be reserved for the homeless.  I read that Fairbanks had a major power outage at the University of Alaska, in -40 weather, so I shudder to think how people down on their luck would fare up there, with so many students needing in out of the Deep Freeze.

Parking lots, bridge undergirding, caves, forests, back alleys- it seems Utah has the better solution.

The Road to 65, Mile 68: Healing A Hole

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February 4, 2015, Prescott-  I spent several hours with restless twelve and thirteen-year-olds, during the course of this morning.  Some of that time was spent guiding them through the worksheets which are the bane of an adolescent student’s existence. Another segment was spent addressing the illogical consequence of unimaginative lesson planning:  The paper wad, shot by a rubber band. I was able to get the artillery brigades to stop, by pointing out that a hard-shot paper wad, in a classmate’s eye, has severe illogical consequences of its own.  The regular teacher will have to change out the whole worksheet aspect.  I had to learn that hard fact, in my own teaching, such as it was.

I visited a friend this evening, intending to only take an hour of her time, as she is even more insanely busy than I am.  The visit extended to a light supper, two cups of coffee, and a fuller emptying of her languid  cup, than I have been privy to in some time.  Most of the details are irrelevant to a public post.  One topic, however, to which I keep returning, out of my own personal ache on the matter, was a fair concern tonight.

Children who are discounted, or marginalized, by one or both parents- or worse, yet, not even acknowledged by one of their parents, are receiving one of the cruelest, most unusual punishments known to humanity.  My friend has devoted everything to each of her children, as the best among us are wont to do, and consistently. I ache for  a child who is discounted or unacknowledged by either parent.  There is only so much I, a relative acquaintance, can do for such a child, but that little gets done, in making clear her value as a human being.  She will survive and thrive, because her mother takes her seriously.  The shame of an absent parent, however, lasts a lifetime.

I’m proud of my son, and see that he is made well aware of it, consistently.  My friend does likewise, and a very special, multifaceted young woman is arising.  The hole in her heart will heal, because she will not have to feel left out, or on the outskirts, of any occasion in which her devoted parent takes part.  Once again, a child needs both parents.

The Road to 65, Mile 67: Deferred Attention

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

February 3, 2015, Prescott- Television stayed off today.  I did not go to morning prayers, nor did I even get out of bed until 10 AM.  Of course, getting home at 3:30 AM had everything to do with that.  My respite at home will be brief.  Some here in Prescott will wonder, again, why on Earth I even bother coming back here.  There were three key elements at play:  I took part in the commemoration of the deaths of four Navy Chaplains, in the sinking of the USS Dorchester, off the coast of Greenland,on February 3, 1943.  This is an emotional time for those who served in World War II, and many who served later, in the Korean Conflict.  It is significant in that four noncombatants gave the ultimate sacrifice, choosing to die, alongside 653 others, rather than mount a lifeboat.  They set their own hopes and dreams aside.

The other two tasks that need doing here are left for tomorrow and Thursday.  They involve quality attention to dear friends.  So here is a key aspect of the changes that became apparent to me, as I drove home last night:  I am leaving isolation behind.  That’s the scary part, but it’s also the satisfying element.  When I focus on a person, or a task, I am all in.  It may not suit the people who are on the sidelines, and have to wait until a later time for me to attend to THEIR needs, but that attention is only deferred, not cast aside.

I am also getting better at deferring, not casting aside, my own needs for rest and rejuventation.  So, I got up at 10, not 6 or 7.  Early rising will return tomorrow.

The Road to 65, Mile 66: Totems

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

February 2, 2015, Prescott- From the time I was small, there has been something about bears that has set in my heart, far beyond the Teddy Bear connection that has led some to dismiss that fascination.  I have learned that my Penobscot ancestors regarded the bear as a sacred being, as many Indigenous Americans do.  So, it was a particular honour when a longtime friend gave me an eagle feather, my name slightly misspelled, and with four bears lovingly placed along the bottom edge.

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It sits now, at the edge of a heart, created by my wife, from mesquite sticks around 2002.  That was a symbol of all we had, and its ruggedness foreshadowed what we were to endure.  The eagle and the bears are symbols of keenness and strength, two qualities which I’ve known, erratically, most of my life.  During all her suffering, though, I could not let go of either quality.

Now, I’m coming into another phase of my life, its specifics still unclear, but in which sharpness of mind and strength of character will need to flow, uninterrupted.  It will entail a lot of flexibility, energy-wise and time-wise, and could very well include going back to work full time, though that is a matter now in the hands of others.  The totems will impart a certain energy to the process.  Stay tuned.

The Road to 65, Mile 65: Weirdness Finds Us

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Posted by on in Entertainment, Social

February 1, 2015, Longmont, CO-  Katy Perry has done one or two songs that resonate with me, and several others with which some of the girls, with whom I’ve worked over the past few years, have sung along.  Her videos, though, are mostly flamboyant and of the “all about MEEE” genre.  When I visited my paternal uncle on Sunday, after the  Winter Summit had finished, he was glad that I had come along- all the more so, as he could turn from the tv, which he had muted during her performance.

We talked of several things- my visit to our ancestral neighbourhood in Rouen, my having gone across the Pacific, from Honolulu to San Diego, and my son’s wise choice in doing four more years in the Navy and Uncle’s dealing with the gradual effects of nearing 90.  He is a practical man, who plans things out and addresses issues creatively.  So, as Super Bowl play resumed, and the sound was turned back on accordingly, he was a bit perturbed to see the various blunders which took up the second half.  It’ll be a while before the question, “What kind of coach orders a PASS at the goal line?” is addressed to Uncle’s satisfaction.  As New Englanders, we were pleased with the outcome, but we both have had good experiences in the Northwest, so there were condolence thoughts expressed, as well.

It was, he and I agreed, a surreal game.  For the Seattle wide receiver to catch the ball, while sprawled aground, as if it were a greased pig, was  kind of like eating bacon ice cream- a bizarre treat that would be an acquired taste.  The Patriots’ rookie defenseman’s finding the ball coming right into his hands, behind the goal line, was equally bizarre, but felt more  like a triple chocolate, dripped caramel, with peppermint, triple shake-albeit in the dead of winter.  Weirdness brings the most delectable surprises, and never when or where one might expect.

The Road to 65, Mile 64: Roommates

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January 31, 2015, Boulder- I am sharing a hotel room with someone I had never met before yesterday.  He is congenial and considerate, as  I am in return.  It is a rare occasion when I have a roommate, anymore.  I last did so in the dark days of Summer, 2011, when I was at  a week-long Baha’i school, following Penny’s passing and my abrupt cancellation of home renovation plans, which messed up the contractor’s schedule and added to my emotional meandering.  The gentleman who shared my room then was quiet and scholarly, and had some fine tales of his days with the Canadian Air Force, serving in the far northern edge of Ellesmere Island.

Since then, I have lived alone- first in a two-bedroom house and now in a one-bedroom apartment.  It seems to fit, especially as I have been in and out of town so much.  Likewise, having a roommate this weekend also fits- for the task in front of each of us is to be more social.  I am feeling a lot more talkative, though my roommate is spending his first time away from his wife of five years, and is on the phone with her constantly, during free time.

I know the feeling well.  The few times that Penny and I were apart, during our years together, we were constantly on the phone with each other, or connecting online.  Spouses are the ultimate roommates, after all.

The Road to 65, Mile 63: Special Touch

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

January 30, 2015-  Today was spent learning how to apply a variety of  essential oils to another person’s body, in a therapeutic and respectful manner.  Couples can have lots of fun with this, as well.  For me, though, it was a focused and elegant exercise.  The purpose of this is to address the sacrocranial column and the feet, with 5-8 oils.  Each of these oils has a specific property and affects the body in a particular way.  Lavender, which starts the process, relaxes the body. Peppermint, which ends it, brings the body back to a state of alertness.  The whole process, for each of us, took 40 minutes.

I am now certified to OFFER this treatment to people, but I will not CHARGE for it, at least not for the time being. I may not teach others how, without a rigourous training process. The most important thing is that, once one learns the process, it is a good idea to let people know that it works.  When it was done on me, this morning, I felt wondrously relaxed and spiritually nourished.  Oh, and the Thai curried chicken added to those feelings.

If you have the opportunity to learn this process, take it.

The Road to 65, Mile 62: No Snow

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Posted by on in Social, Travel

January 29, 2015, Boulder-  I came to Boulder, this evening, after a long day of driving through an unusually dry series of Colorado roads.  There was a modest amount of snow, well off the roads, in the mountain passes, and a hardy quartet of young men buzzed around the base of Wolf Creek Summit, on their Skidoos.  Down in Del Norte, however, it was mild and the grounds of Piece of Art complex, at the west end of town, were muddy.  I had a hearty bowl of split pea soup there, one of my favourite cafes along Hwy. 160.  I found the complex is up for sale, for $699,000.  I certainly hope it falls into caring hands.  Piece of Art is one of a kind, especially in that area of Colorado.

It was a smooth ride further, up I-25, past Denver, and up to Hwy. 36, which was narrow, due to construction, and very dark, due to the Dark Sky Ordinance that seems to have been adopted by Boulder- both City and County.  I made it to a comfortable motel, though, and got a fine night’s sleep, after the six hour drive from Cortez.

I would like to see more snow hereabouts, though.  If it slows my return to Arizona, that’s okay.  My main concern is seeing our rivers enjoy the fruits of a good snowpack, and the mountains are the key to that.  Wherever the good snow falls, the chances of fire in the coming Spring and Summer become less.  That would do my heart good.