Different, but Not Blind

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November 10, 2023- An old friend, who I hadn’t seen for a while, regarded me with some concern: She remembered me as a chunky, 186-pounder. I am now 30 lbs lighter, which I fear may have triggered memories of her late husband, in his last stages of life-and the anniversary of his departure is two weeks after Thanksgiving. My weight reduction, which has about six more pounds to shed, is intentional, and the recent bout with the flu aside, there is no medical evidence of any carcinogenic or pathological roots to the ongoing loss. I am just eating carefully and getting sufficient exercise and rest.

Still and all, my friend’s sensitivity, and the memory of her dear husband, need to be honoured. I will be stopping by her establishment a fair number of times, over the next several months-especially in December-mainly to listen. Tonight, the place was very busy, and our conversation was brief.

She had a question or two about my Philippine visit-her main interest being the young man I have been sponsoring-and the pair of basketball shoes that he was able to select for himself. She is not one who thinks much of travel for its own sake-a good many self-employed people have the same take, for obvious reasons. Making friends and building networks, which are also my own on-the-road focus, make sense to her.

Earlier today, Hiking Buddy and I took in Willow Lake, a smaller reservoir to the northwest of Watson Lake. It is separated from its larger mate, by the Granite Dells-whose western edge is also called Willow Dells. We focused on the west and south sides of the lake shore. HB’s interest in my trip was mainly in the places I visited with friends, the quality of my photos and what, if any, was the effect on my health. (Truth be known, it was coming back to an unheated house that led to last Friday’s flu crash. I am just glad it didn’t hit the contagious phase until well after my Red Cross activity on Friday morning, and that I had until Tuesday to recover).

Cottonwoods and bog grass, in autumn transition.
Great Blue Heron, in repose.

Between this hike and my visit to the small cafe, there was the small matter of a haircut. So, back to Fantastic Sam’s it was, and in a half-hour or so, I no longer looked like a charging barbarian. My new stylist had questions of her own about Manila. She has a great yearning to get out and see things-and is mostly wanting to learn from other cultures. I pointed out that most people have no issue with Americans, as individuals. It is always wise to be aware of one’s surroundings and to maintain boundaries-but that it true right here, also.

In looking back on the three ladies’ perspectives, I am reminded of the old fable about the five men and the elephant. Everyone, whether blind or sighted, has interests that differ from others. This was underscored by my filling out a profile, this morning, for Next Door.com Interest groups abound, under that umbrella group-so it will be a fascinating exercise in networking.

Frank Borman

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November 9, 2023- The young man was unwilling to put all his eggs in one basket, as it were-and so, despite there being three other candidates ahead of him, he filled out and submitted an application for West Point Military Academy, in 1945. A year later, the three candidates ahead of him had fallen away, and the future Apollo astronaut entered the Academy. He graduated 8th, in a class of 670, in 1950.

The crackerjack test pilot had what Tom Wolfe would call “the right stuff”, in spades, and so qualified for training as an astronaut-first in the Project Gemini tandem Earth orbit activities, then as pilot of the Apollo 8 circumambulation of the Moon, in December, 1968. Later, as NASA White House liaison, he watched the landing of Apollo 11, on the lunar surface, and Neil Armstrong’s famous steps and speech, from the West Wing.

The sharp-eyed airline executive had built his company’s fortunes and took a leap of faith, purchasing new planes and equipment, keeping Eastern Airlines in the forefront of what was then state-of-the-art technology. He did not shy from the trade-offs, and trimmed costs at the expense of salaries and wages. Deregulation of the industry was not something he foresaw, though, and the perfect storm of decline in profits and uptick in costs, including debt management, led him to resign as CEO, in 1986.

Through it all, Frank Frederick Borman was a doer. He kept on with building his own vehicles, from the engine to the exhaust pipe; selling cars in Las Cruces, then running cattle in Montana. He was a faithful husband to his wife, Susan, for 71 years. He was a good father to two sons. He was a hard-nosed Chief Executive Officer, who did not dodge the tough questions, though it cost his employees, especially the women, mightily when he faced the fire.

Colonel Borman lived to the age of 95, passing on, two days ago, near his beloved ranch. His life, replete with success yet riddled with errors in judgment, was nonetheless in many ways worthy of admiration.

Correcting Missteps and Dodging Darkness

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November 8, 2023- I was told, flat-out, a few times yesterday, that if I knew what was good for me, I would follow the instructions about my own life that the stern-faced woman was randomly tossing out. Hmmmm- Where have I heard this before? What happened when I stuck to my own path? What further transpired, when I cut off contact with the previous angry personage? In each case, there was suffering- a slight injury, a job loss and a car accident, all of which happened to take place in the presence of a short, stern-faced woman, similar to the one who was warning me to toe the line, this time.

There is much that we don’t know about energy fields, and while I hardly believe that shape-shifting is actually a thing, it does seem strange that misfortunes in my life always are witnessed by a short, stout, angry middle-aged woman of narcissistic temperament. Nothing awful happened to me on the way home, yesterday, and while I made a foolish decision to unnecessarily yield at the end of an off-ramp, this morning, there was no consequence, other than a blared horn. I had, though, written down the wrong school at which to report.

Twenty minutes later, I was at the correct school, with the assigned students-enjoying a Veterans Day tribute. We went on to make progress on the kids’ science projects and math assignment. There have been, so far, no “dire consequences” for my not following “instructions”.

What to get from yesterday’s exchange? As the days, months and years roll on, what I need for my own well-being is to take more time to do things even more carefully, write appointments down in more than one place and give myself more time to get places, and more time in between events and activities. The angry narcissist who wants to save me from God knows what, will just need to find a different focus for her energies.

The Sum of Ignorance

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November 7, 2023- As the short video played out, some of those who may well find themselves in harm’s way, eight years from now, should the penchant for war as a solution to global ills continue, were busy in denial- choosing to play around and insult each other, rather than show respect for those who have served.

I know it is the fear of death that spurs adolescent boys to act out, when conflict and war are mentioned, however respectfully. Yet, I’ve seen too much and lost too many friends, men and women alike, to abide their antics without comment. Disinterest, or even the appearance of same, is what leads to the rise of tyranny. Autocrats can smell apathy, the way bears can smell food, clearly and from a distance. I left that particular coterie to answer to their regular teacher.

This evening, with only a few exceptions, people turned away from ignorance. The right to life is universal, and it also cannot be a pretext for eliminating the growth of conscience among one’s neighbours. The solution to feeling the need to end another’s life is not statute, but careful use of the sex drive- which, to me, lies within marital union, however two people see that union. As long as that concept seems antiquated or somehow patriarchal, there will remain “unwanted” pregnancies. (Parents should NOT be arranging marriages, in this day of spreading universal education; they should certainly approve or disapprove their child’s choice of mate, but not make the choice for the child.) There remains, as we are seeing, a rising reverence for a human being’s right and duty to choose mindfully, as to what happens with his/her own body.

People also turned away from ignorance, in general. They did not turn away from traditional values, but from the notion that only a small group of elders can decide what’s best for the people. In the run-up to today’s vote, ignorant and ill -advised statements, by those who claim to represent conservatism, even about intimate details of their personal lives, did not do the movement of preservation any favours.

” For the wages of sin is death…..”- St.Paul’s Letter to the Romans, 6:23. The sum of ignorance, whether on the Right or on the Left, is zero.

Fever, Pitched

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November 6, 2023- Penny’s graduation photo, circa 2006, appeared on one of my social media pages, a few days ago. I keep going back to it, as comments have come in. So, it was no surprise when I got the message “This stubborn fever is going to break, tonight.” When I awoke, this morning, the fever was indeed gone and a residue of sweat confirmed the break.

I am now relieved of the need to call off my two work assignments, tomorrow and Wednesday. Today proceeded, slowly on my part, but with a number of small tasks, from writing my mother to locating a couple of missing purchase cards, being accomplished. The lesson remains, though, that jumping right back into community life after a long journey is not a good idea. It stemmed more from guilt, on my part, and I see that no friends have fallen away, after I had to spend the weekend largely sequestered. So, as I said earlier, any future travels will be followed by a day or two of rest, whether “needed” or not.

Penny’s photo with me is also a lovely reminder of the eternity of our tie. I did not retain her social media presence, once the anniversary of her passing had come and gone. Those who believe in maintaining tribute pages will likely offer push back on this, but a tribute page is mainly for the solace of loved ones left behind. We know she is in a good place and does not need tugs on this side of the veil. That,at least for me, is solace enough.

Delusions

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November 5, 2023- “Those Gazans aren’t people, they’re Muslims!” This bit of breaking news came from a fairly intelligent man, but one who also ascribes inhumanity to Democrats and Socialists-though one of his best friends is of the latter ilk. My simple retort was that Muslims are human beings, just as we are. The subject was dropped, when no one else jumped in on his behalf.

There was a brief murmur of assent, to the notion that it might be acceptable to have a President running things from a prison cell. My thoughts are that it would be interesting, for all of a week. The Vice President would then be the most powerful person ever to hold that office. From there, the deluded thinking dissolved into comments about alternatives to an incarcerated Chief Executive. Now, at least, I no longer felt as if I’d entered the Twilight Zone.

This is part and parcel of what happens, when people are either so enamoured of a certain individual or so disgusted by another-or both, that there is no scenario in which the first person is disqualified, or the second given a pass. Delusions, though, as any veteran of life under an autocracy will attest, seldom bring much surety to actual peoples’ daily lives. This is as true of those living under the yoke of Islamic militants as it is of those who live in countries where the one-party, one-ruler system has been in place for decades. It would become true of this country, if the majority, or a distinct plurality, of the voters follow the direction of their delusions.

I shudder at the thought of what may follow, for however brief a period that the autocracy is put in place.

Achers Away

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November 4, 2023- At first, my thought was “At long last, COVID”. Nope-the aches and flash fever were too familiar. It was that change of season flu, one more time. Someone, somewhere will shake their head and say, “There IS a flu shot, ya know”. Yes, there is-for the dominant strain(s) of influenza that the CDC has projected will be in the elements, for this particular season. It’s a crap shoot, and one that shortened the life of my father’s older brother, by maybe five years. The wrong strain of vaccine put Uncle George on oxygen and sidelined a vibrant, energetic soul. Science is most often inexact.

I have been selective about getting vaccinated, over the decades. COVID-19 was too vicious and too novel, so two injections went in my left arm, and I have not felt any change in my functioning or my behaviour, from either one. Tetanus and tuberculosis are two on which I stay current. The rest are, in my case, pretty much cash cows for Big Pharma, though I do recognize that others may need them. Being nearly 73, I don’t, as long as I keep up the daily doses of Lifelong Vitality supplements and maintain an active lifestyle.

That brings me to the Achilles heal: Keeping too tight a schedule. It caused headaches twice, on my recent trip to the Philippines. Having it to do over again, either there or on any long journey, I would allow more time, if taking a bus or train and would not schedule a flight the day after a long bus trip. Too many times, buses are slowed down by other traffic or by large numbers of passengers showing up, in a country town.

The second thing is: I will politely decline an invitation here at Home Base, the day after landing in Los Angeles or San Francisco. That is an element of people pleasing, which only ends up disappointing still other people-because I got sick from running on empty. We know to go slow, on the other end, and don’t overbook after landing in the foreign destination, but falling for the “friends and family are so excited to see you back” (mostly in my head), does nothing for either of us.

There are those who refer to every trip out of town as “vacation”, even if it happens once a month. They book no appointments, the day before leaving or the day after returning, even if it’s a road trip. Maybe they’re on to something.

A Rare White Bat

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November 3, 2023- One of the members of our luncheon, on behalf of the Red Cross Blood Ambassadors, was most insistent that we all go and look at the rare white bat, that was in a cage, near the south end of the parking lot. She said it was the one thing she has all her out-of-state family check out, when they come to visit.

Hmmmmm- A bat, in a cage, by itself, in the heat of the day. There had to be a catch-but we continued with our lunch-time banter, enjoying the fare of Rock Springs Cafe, a major eatery in Black Canyon City, about midway between Prescott and Phoenix. There were a few photos, in the cafe’s garden, after the meal, and those who did not have Blood Ambassador swag, (I have a small pile of it, collected over the years), got a few pins.

With all that, it was time to go see the bat. I must say, the paint job is nice, but I would not try to hit a ball with it.

The Anchor Is Still In Place

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November 2, 2023- The landlord was right there, as I approached the driveway, so I pulled around and up the south side of the horseshoe. He had done some work on the back door to Home Base, but went on to other tasks, so I could bring everything inside. After an exchange of pleasantries, and my reminding him to deposit the rent check, it was time for a rest.

The western end of the Pacific Rim feels like home, the way Jeju does-and San Diego, Grapevine, Santa Fe, Vancouver Island, Cortez, Bisbee, Philadelphia, Chicagoland, Mishawaka, Cape Breton, the North Shore of Massachusetts, a dozen places across the South-and here, Home Base Prescott, my anchor.

The difference in temperature is palpable-Manila was gorgeously warm and Prescott is, well, stimulating. I put the Korean comforter on my bed, and there it will stay until March or April. The human temperature, though, is warm all over. I was welcomed in Banning-at Sunset Motel and at Gramma’s Country Kitchen, my go-to spot for a delectable meal when passing through the Inland Empire, along I-10. I had no need to stop anywhere else, save getting gas in Coachella- where it is below $5 a gallon, once again. Once in Prescott, I picked up the mail, and attended a Red Cross monthly meeting. We will do smoke detector installations, later this month, and on other occasions, towards Spring. Then, it was time for a long evening’s rest.

So here I am, thinking of the Filipino/as who make my southwest Pacific anchor strong: Demure, soft-spoken Norlie, dedicated Ylona, fun-loving, intellectual and energetic Kathy, diligent firecracker Arlene, the singing waiter and cook at Sky Pad, the kind and sweet-faced laundress of Santa Ana and all those hotel staffers and drivers who went the extra mile for me. I have only scratched the surface of that unique nation, and have promised Norlie and Kathy that I will be back, for more extensive efforts, in 2025, in-between long-delayed time in Europe and northeast Asia. Perhaps N’s beloved will be there, by then, and a group of us can visit other islands, and parts of Luzon together.

Here I am, prepping for the activities that lie ahead this month, including the now traditional week in Grapevine and thereabouts, the teaching work, the Farmers Market winter hours and installing fire alarms in the northwest AZ town of Kingman.

Here I am, feeling anchored and appreciated.

Expanding Home, Day 23: 25 Hours

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November 1, 2023, Banning (CA)- Momentarily forgetting that I had checked my Cotopaxi backpack, through from LAX to San Diego, I went back in and asked an agent about the process for finding misplaced items. Her generic answer, and showing me where to head, in order to locate it, gave enough space for my reality to set in. The bag was actually in good hands, and I could head to the domestic TSA inspection, then to the last leg of my return flight.

I got a decent amount of sleep last night, but “last night” in the Philippines ended at 5 a.m., this morning, when it was 8 p.m., Tuesday night, in California. So, by the time I landed in San Diego, it was 5:30 p.m. here and 8:30 a.m., Thursday morning, in Manila. By the time I had caught the shuttle to long-term parking, retrieved Sportage and driven here, to Sunset Motel, it was 8:15 here-and…you get the picture.

I had a nice breakfast at Cherry Selections, in the lobby of Manila Airport Hotel, then bid farewell to my friends in Airlane Village and walked over to Terminal 1-again gently guided by a series of gatekeepers, to the proper queue and the China Air block of service booths. Philippine TSA provides a quick inspection, so that part took only three minutes or so.

Once on board, it was my turn to take one of the middle seats-only fair, as the flight over was spent in aisle seats only. Everyone has to take an aisle seat, or two, once in a while. The seats on China Air vessels are roomy and ergonomically sound, which is not the case with some North American carriers. We were served a late breakfast, which in my case served as lunch. Arriving in T’aipei, we had to undergo Taiwan TSA inspection, before boarding the trans-Pacific leg of the jaunt. There was then a three-hour wait, as the plane had technical issues, that were addressed in orderly fashion.

One of you asked about changes in air , with those on either side of me. I found the Taiwanese seatmates on the first leg, quiet and pensive. They also spoke little English. The American man, to my left, on the longer flight, was aloof and wary; the Brazilian gentleman to my right was exhausted, but cordial. I was just grateful for the leg room, and the service. Truth be known, I probably would have faded out, on chattier seatmates. All told, five or six hours of sleep transpired on the three legs-with the short hop from LA to San Diego actually finding me in the deepest sleep-albeit a thirty-five minute cat nap.

Gaffes were few, and no one-except you, the readers, are aware of my brain fart, concerning the checked-in backpack. There was a bit of comedy-as I tried to open a cosmetic bin door, which had no latch, and the officious lead flight attendant rolled her eyes and told me to look to the overhead bin on my left. Thus did this groggy one leave the T’aipei-LA plane and make his way to the immigration queue.

Once re-united with the backpack, in San Diego, it took fifteen minutes for the shuttle driver from Fox Auto Parks to arrive, and ten minutes for him to get five of us to our waiting vehicles. Reunited with Sportage, I drove up to Escondido for gas, and coffee, then over to this pleasant little high desert city, and the clean, comfortable Sunset Motel. It’s been twenty-five hours, or so it seems. G’night, all!