Square One Calling

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December 7, 2015, Chino Valley- This morning, I presented the school’s director with the results of my tests, only to be told that it was too late, and that my replacement would be reporting for work on January 4.

The song is never done, until Mickey Spillane’s woman of size lets loose.  So it is, with my formerly possible work situation at Mingus Springs Charter School. The song has been delivered. The upside, for the children, is that their third teacher of the year has a Special Education background. They need that skill set.  It is imperative, however, that she also prove to be a compassionate, loving soul, and, for now, I am taking it on faith that she is.  I will maintain contact with the families, and will know if things go awry.

This job impelled me to become certified as an elementary teacher, something I had resisted for a while, out of the ignorant belief that it would require a lengthy regimen of coursework and another teaching practicum.  This proved not to be the case, and I will have a certificate in hand, by the end of this calendar year.  That will increase my worth in the Prescott and Chino Valley public schools.

Square One has been my refuge, actually, most of my adult life, and from it, I have gone on to some amazing places, career-wise.  I presently have no way of knowing what 2016 holds in store, but am certain that the possibilities are far wider now, than they were two weeks ago.

I will finish out my six days and be off.  The Spring semester, for now, will be first call, first served.

Islands Converge

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December 6, 2015, Marana-  There are two parts of this northern suburb of Tucson.  The “new” area is close to I-10.  The “old” section consists of older ranch-style homes and a few brick dwellings, with large lots, that are spaced apart.  The neighbours barely know one another.

A friend of mine moved into the area, about two years ago.  Yesterday, I joined her gathering of the neighbours and some of her co-workers.  About twenty-five people showed up, so a start was made at bringing the “islands” closer together.  The consensus was that a neighbourhood where people are anonymous to one another is a neighbourhood at risk.

Time was, when we knew everyone within a four-block radius of the house.  That was in the Boston area of the 1950’s and ’60’s.  When we lived in Phoenix, we knew those on either side of the house, and a few people across the street. Here in my current residence, I have a nodding acquaintance with all but one of the neighbours.  The man immediately above me is the sole first-name basis, friendly sort.

It is of course, a two-way street, and one that is rather bustling. My friend in Marana simply regards the matter as one that ought to be resolved for the overall safety and well-being of all the area residents.  We are a species that depend on interaction with others, lest we lose heart, from isolation and negative self-talk.

The afternoon, and evening, were filled with affirmations for most who attended, and heartfelt discussion afterwards brought a consensus that more such events should be planned.  Here are a few scenes of the day, including a few spirited young dancers

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The first several guests

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The repast

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The hostess

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Chennai

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December 4, 2015, Prescott- The kids and I did a lot of work, yesterday, so I went to bed early.  Today was also full, mostly with errands that a “day of rest” finds waiting.  My life has gone well this week, culminating with the news that I had passed the third and final examination, prior to my application for elementary certification, and likely continuance in my current position.

Not so in the Indian manufacturing hub of Chennai, the Madras of colonial times.  It’s said that ten feet of water have submerged some parts of the fourth largest city in India.  Aerial photos show a series of islands, and the rain still comes.

Chennai is becoming a real time poster child for climate change, even as the ministers of 150 nations continue their deliberations in far-off Paris.  It is a fair question to ask, whether there will be a recovery this time.  This is not a matter of histrionics or handwringing.  In too many cases, politicians, conservatives mostly, play the game of the perfect being enemy to the good.   We are now considering the immediate futures of 11 million people in Chennai, to say nothing of the 60 million between the twin megalopolises of Kolkata and Dhaka, nearly 1,000 miles to the northeast, Bangkok, further east, and the myriads of islands in the Indian Ocean and in the far-flung Pacific.  The good must suffice, and the perfect be built on it, eventually.  Paris has to produce concrete results.

A popular American television program is presenting the scenario of 2 % of the world’s population disappearing, POOF!  Sounds like the alarm bells are far more real than the legislators gathered in Washington prefer to believe.

San Bernardino

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December 2, 2015, Chino Valley-  I was involved in overseeing a series of lessons, holiday song practice and the making of decorations for our classroom.  Then, there was the pilfering of a math test master copy, which did the thief no good, as I simply switched to Format B, for tomorrow’s assessment.

Then came news of the latest horror, the killing of 14 people in San Bernardino.  I have been through the Inland Empire many times, most recently visiting nearby Riverside, whose downtown I find quite enjoyable.  I have only driven through the edges of San Bernardino, and my feelings for the place have been mainly vicarious compassion and concern.  I was worried during the serial arsons of 1980-1, when it appeared someone was dedicated to taking out as much of the city as possible.  During the Big Bear hostage-taking and murders, a few years back, I felt an ominous twinge, that the shooter might bust out of the resort town, and engage in further mayhem, down the mountain.

Today’s events, unfortunately, come as no surprise.  “Berdoo”, as some have called it, has always presented itself to me as a city on edge.  The shopkeepers and wait staff in area restaurants have seemed to be of shorter tempers than in other parts of the I.E., and certainly other parts of California.   The city has its charms, and it would be a fine thing if those were accented.

Now, however, we see another dark day, shaking the calm that had started to set in, a few days after the carnage in Colorado Springs.  I always feel we need, as a nation and as a species, to close ranks around the suffering, and most definitely in both of the most recent episodes.  No city, no community, should have to hang its head in shame, and no place ought to feel abandoned by its neighbours, or by the rest of humanity.

As the answers come forward, regarding the reasons behind this latest attack, let us tell San Bernardino:  “It’s going to be alright.  America is with you, and the nation will not forget this day- anymore than we would forget the terrible anniversary coming up:  Sandy Hook.”

Giving Tuesday

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December 1, 2015, Chino Valley-  I received exactly 156 requests for money today.  Mot of them were online.  I gave modest amounts to three charities.  That the Solicitation Industry is alive and well is more than a cliche.  Need is great, and I have to figure out a meaningful way to help some destitute friends, yet, before the month gets too old.  Said friends are across the country, and anything I do for them will only be a token, but so be it.

There have been times when I looked homelessness and extreme cold in the face, and got through it, with help from both stranger and friend, as well as through my own resources.  Institutionalized help does do a lot of good, but there is always the Administrative factor, which includes salaries for the staff.  I would strongly advise http://www.charitynavigator.org, in that regard.

It has been quite cold here, the past three days, and my Nissan complained mightily this evening, before starting up and getting me to a friend’s house, for a short visit.  Yes, my car could take a considerable chunk of my resources, yet.  That is something we all have faced, from time to time.  I may have to get an old blanket to put over the engine at night, on days to come, just as my father did a few times, in the New England Decembers and Januaries of old.

Thus has the final month of 2015, and my first full month of 65, begun.

A Thin Line of Defense

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November 30, 2015, Chino Valley- A couple of things happened yesterday, which made me realize, again, that life and fortune are fleeting things- if for no other reason than that we might come to value them.

The New England Patriots lost their first game of this season, which was not surprising, given that most of their marquee players are injured.  I hear and read so many sports commentators rail about injuries, and how they “cheat” good teams of victories- as if there is some sort of injury puppet master out there, just waiting to mess up everyone’s good time.

The fact remains, professional sports, especially  American football, and ice hockey, are intensely physical sports, given to the sorts of injuries that derail golden dreams.  The film, “Concussion”, which enters theaters on Christmas, will outline some aspects of the nature, and impact, of injury on the practice and business of professional sports.  The recent revelations about the injuries suffered by the late, legendary Frank Gifford underscore the media’s spotlight on the matter.

The second reminder came as I was driving.  A mobile home, pulling a flatbed trailer, with a motorcycle on it, was about 500 feet in front of me, on a lonely stretch of road, between the small towns of Aguila and Congress, in west central AZ.  The driver either was nodding off, or misjudged the width of the road, because the trailer’s front right rim hit a signpost, and bounced a bit.  Shards of metal flew back, but fell to the road in front of my safely braking Nissan.  The driver of the mobile home slowly, but steadily, brought the vehicle to a stop on the shoulder of the road.  Two vehicles behind me were able to more safely pull in behind the RV, and render assistance.  Everyone must have been okay, as I didn’t see any fire trucks or police cars headed from Congress, which has the nearest First Responders.  My cell phone had no service, in that area, so the best thing I could have done was to keep on going, which I did.

I thought of how narrow a skin of life we have, and of how close I was, being saved from harm only by staying a safe number of car lengths back.  Time must have more in store, for all concerned.