November 30, 2025, Grapevine- My sole tasks today were recording measurements of two rooms in the Plano house, using the Notes application on my i-Phone, and doing my laundry. It was not a hard day. Son had to navigate traffic across the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, as he does almost every day. He had the harder job. There is a fair number of unfocused, impetuous motorists here, as there are in nearly every major city on the planet. He got the job done just fine.
Much of the difficulty facing the human race has come from one or more people, in any given situation, becoming distracted. There are plenty of diversions competing for anyone’s attention, at any given time of the day: Sunrises and sunsets; cute animals; cute babies; text messages; phone calls; road accidents; attractive members of the opposite sex; billboards; alluring announcements on the radio or streaming device; even someone riding a horse on the side of the road. The tasks, though, remain the same: Drive safely; pay attention to the person in front of you; finish what you start.
I think of this, as I plan out one of the most tightly-choreographed months in quite a while. Not since July, 2011 have I had to face a sea change in my living situation. It will need to be done carefully, and attentively, both because of time frame and because the feelings of so many people, who mean a great deal to me, need to be kept in mind. The most important, of course, are my little family. Others also matter, and so December will see lots of hugs and handshakes and “Thank you for being my friend, all these years.” The saving grace, in each instance, is the continuity offered by social media.
All I can promise anyone is that I will stay on point, and get the tasks of transition done, to the every best of my ability, doing justice for all concerned.
November 29, 2025, Grapevine- The order of the day was bringing some items to the Plano house, including my major camping stuff and some of the items purchased for the good of the household. It was then off to assess furniture, including my trying out several mattresses. I like firmness on a sleeping surface, and will determine where I will lay my head, at least for the next nineteen years, after a bit more investigation.
The rest of the items are more a matter of style and utility. We stopped in one furniture MegaStore, where I was amazed to see the wooden desk equivalent of stylish torn jeans: Painted wooden desks, with scuffed trim-“on sale” for $289. In fairness, most of the other office furniture was nicely constructed and looked state of the art.
It is a joy to watch my son and daughter-in-law meet the challenges of home ownership, taking each major step seriously, with no sense of being overwhelmed. It is all seen in perspective, and 1-3 matters are handled per day. They are also sober-minded, loving parents, actively planning to nurture the whole child, from the moment she is born.
That brings me back to the subjects of firmness and style. Granddaughter will be getting direction, first and foremost, from her parents, with back-up from me, when needed. My style of grandparenting will evolve, but it will be centered on consistency and giving her feelings of security and self-confidence. Some grandparents are known to take on the role of disciplinarian. I will not. Others take on the role of rescuer. I do not have a life-sized picture of that being necessary, with this family. The bottom line is that I will not live through my children and grandchild(ren). It is not something with which I have ever comfortable, and I am not about to start now.
I will be another sure bet in the little girl’s life.
November 28, 2025, Grapevine- The road to diamond ended where it began, in the company of my little family, here in Texas’ Christmas City. There was a sense that life would continue as ever, for the three of us, and in preparation for my third visit to the Philippines, I seriously contemplated moving there, being very strongly drawn to a lovely woman and having made several friends during my first two trips to that beautiful, struggling, supremely hospitable country.
I sojourned a lot this year-to the Philippines in February; back to the eastern U.S., in May and across a wide swath of Europe in September and October. In between, my commitment to Prescott continued unabated and many hours of service were recorded. These were the fruits of twelve years of building relationships and friendships, across sectarian and even ideological lines.
The finest thing about both travels and community service came in seeing people take the reins of empowerment to themselves. Filipinos rejuvenating a local Baha’i Center, building a pavilion for an elementary school, and women standing up and saying “Enough” to abusive significant others made my spirit soar. The initial phases of a Baha’i House of Worship, north of Manila were an added bonus.
Northern Arizona became a distinct Red Cross Chapter again this year. I had little to do with the actual achievement, but was able to establish ties between the organization and at least one rural community, east of Prescott. We also reached out to formerly isolated communities in the far northern reaches of the state-albeit as an outcome of a horrific fire that ravaged the magnificent North Rim of the Grand Canyon.
Getting to spend time with friends in several European countries fulfilled an eleven year old promise. Visits to Sweden, Croatia, Ireland and the United Kingdom accomplished that goal. Paying homage to the victims of the Holocaust, at Auschwitz-Birkenau and to those massacred at Srebrenica, Bosnia & Hercegovina was the fulfillment of what I regard as a duty of a citizen of the world. In most places, my presence was evanescent, yet I felt at home, and would not be unwelcome if I returned.
I have reached my diamond jubilee. The day, and this Thanksgiving visit, have been focused on the coming move of my little family and I into a permanent home. Doing things like meeting the tradesmen who will help prepare the house, going over specs and pointing out things that need to be repaired/replaced, shopping for new furniture to replace items that are, in my case at least, nearly fourteen years old-have taken precedence. Once I get back in Prescott, in the middle of next week, the process of dismantling Home Base I begins in earnest. Furniture will need to be sold or given away, as will clothing, books and a variety of household items. Farewells will be said, at gatherings in the Prescott area, in southern California and in the Phoenix area. Farewell, though, is not an eternal goodbye.
Our little one will arrive, sometime in the second half of December. A new era thus starts, along with the beginning of my “fourth quarter”. Other than a visit to the Philippines, at the start of 2026, itself dependent on the baby’s healthy start and her mother’s health, my time at the new Home Base I, from March onward, will be primarily focused on my granddaughter’s care. Gradually, Plano will become my new community. It will not be Prescott-but then again, Prescott was not Jeddito, and Jeddito was not Jeju. Every Home Base has had its draws, its strengths and its undying memories.
The promise of 75 is the promise of guiding a new life, a new human being, who may very well be the embodiment of much that I have wanted to offer the world. The choice, though, will be up to her alone. All her parents and I can do is guide her with love.
November 27, 2025, Grapevine- My grandchild gave a small kick, when I spoke to her through her mother’s belly. Her coming birth is surely the shiniest blessing, overarching this year and the next. Grandparenthood is already a feeling far different, in a beautiful way, than anything I have ever experienced, and it will only get more so, upon her arrival. Those who are already grandparents know this all too well.
Thankfulness cannot be relegated to one day a year, though I am supremely thankful to have been brought into the world, myself, in a season of collective thanks. Many years, my birthday has fallen on Thanksgiving Day, making my mother thankful that I loved roast turkey, stuffing, butternut squash and green bean casserole, while being tolerant of mashed potatoes. This Thanksgiving Day, the last day before my diamond jubilee, was Aram’s first turn at actually carving a turkey-so he asked me, at long last, to show him how. I am grateful for fatherhood, and the ways that it never ends.
I had lengthy conversations with both of my living brothers today. Both are living embodiments of what it means to persist and redefine success. My sister is that, as well, and has forever defined, for me, triumph over adversity. They have each walked their trails to strength and purposeful living. I am grateful for siblinghood, and the ways that it never ends.
This afternoon,looking at the house where we will be a family of four, gave me a sense of both fulfillment and wonder. I would not have predicted this state of affairs, even a year ago. It is a sizable place and my area is almost as large as my present apartment, save my current kitchen. It will be a comfort being in a house that is a home, from the get go. I will let go of most of what I presently own-including about 80 % of my books. In return, I will have the knowledge that my little family is secure, day to day, and that things can always be replaced. I am grateful for shelter, and the ways that it is always available.
I will be leaving Arizona soon, after an at times topsy-turvy life of service to children and teens, that has only deepened my commitment to their well-being, In the course of things, lifelong friendships have been built, old and counterproductive concepts and habits from my youth have been cast aside and a commitment to Faith has arisen. I am grateful for all the friends who have stood by me, over the past thirty-three years. I am grateful for Divine Guidance, and the ways that it has never let me down.
Over the next 2-5 years, I will be more settled than I have been in the past fourteen. I will need my health and stamina to meet different needs, some of which can only be surmised at this point. Travel has its bounties and strengths; building family also has its share of both. Living consciously and maintaining equilibrium have been an enormous blessing. I am grateful for flexibility, and the ways it has guided me through so much change over the years, and will continue to guide.
Now I have reached a point attained by many elders and by several of my cousins before me. I am grateful for having safely achieved the age of seventy-five. More on that, tomorrow, but let me thank all of you, my family and friends, across this continent and across the planet. You are my life’s grandest blessing.
I am closing with a song that I consider one of the most beautiful of this, or any century. This one is for my Mom and Dad, for whom I have the most gratitude of all.
November 26, 2025, Grapevine, TX- I had breakfast this morning at a new spot on Amarillo’s 6th Street “Fun Zone”: Coffee Fixx. It has superb coffee, and it is the first place I’ve been to in a while that offers Red Hots as a breakfast meat option. For those who wonder, Red Hots are Texas-sized sausage links that have a good, spicy kick. They are a notch above the hot Italian sausage to which I have become accustomed in Prescott.
From Coffee Fixx, I headed down along what I call Texas’ Northwest Passage- a road, or network of roads, from Dallas-Fort Worth to Amarillo and points north and west. It has been my go-to alternative to flying, when the weather is fine, as it is right now. I will depend on the Northwest Passage (US Hwy 287 and Texas Highway 114), when it comes time to bring what is left of my household from Prescott to Plano, in the not-too-distant future.
The Passage has some neat canyons along the way: Palo Duro, which I’ve visited a few times and Caprock, which is actually several canyons, set aside as a State Park, in much the same manner as Palo Duro. Here are a few scenes that presented themselves to me, on the north side of Caprock, this morning.
North side of Caprock (Above, and next few frames)
After viewing Caprock’s features from a Picnic Area, I passed through the Passage’s small, but thriving towns: Childress, Quanah, Chillicothe (struggling, but finding its way back, nicely), Vernon, Iowa Park, and the largest of the region’s cities: Wichita Falls.
After purchasing a gift item for my little family, at Valley Pecans, in Chillicothe, I waited for a lady to get out of the car next to Sportage, then began to back up. I saw a rear door open in a car that was across the way, but whose occupants would have to cross my path to get to the store. A little boy got out, then got back in, then got out again. All the while, I sat there, waiting. When he saw me, he decided to head into the store. Given that he was alone in the car, I’d say that was a good decision he made. In any case, I was not about to move the car until the coast was clear.
After Wichita Falls came Henrietta, Bowie, Alvord, Decatur, Rhome and Roanoke, before Southlake and Grapevine appeared. The near towns of the Passage are becoming exurban, but they still have the feel of independence and newness about them.
In time, the Lone Star Northwest Passage will become as familiar to me as are the Arizona Outback routes to Las Vegas and southern California, the “Lonely Road” from Las Vegas to Reno and the Red Road from Flagstaff to Cortez and Durango. Its communities will be filled with people I consider friends and its sights will be the stuff of the back yard.
Caprock is a good name for one of its signature canyons.
November 25, 2025, Amarillo- Having been interested in prehistoric life since I was around 6 years old, I had to seize the opportunity to visit a place which I had sped past, about two dozen times, over the last 25 years: Mesalands Dinosaur Museum, in Tucumcari, New Mexico.
“Tucumcari Tonight!” was a billboard slogan that was shown as far west as Gallup and as far east as Clinton, OK., in the 1980s and ’90s. The little town’s motels and restaurants were billed as a fine halfway point between Albuquerque and Amarillo, in a bid to recover from the loss of traffic, after I-40 replaced U.S. Highway 66, as the prime east-west conduit in the upper South.
I’ve stayed in Tucumcari a couple of times and stopped for dinner there once. I found it a welcoming place-just a bit too far west, when I was going from Gallup eastward and a bit too far east, when going from Oklahoma City or Amarillo, westward. Today gave me the reason to take in the museum, as my itinerary was Moriarty to Amarillo.
The day started with a wonderfully flavourful “Classic Breakfast” at a Country Pride restaurant, on Moriarty’s west side. After about ten minutes, I was the lone diner in the place, a shame, as this Country Pride’s cooks and server seem to care about their customers. K looked bored stiff, but was pleasant and attentive to me and to those who were about to leave. I felt sorry for her, but she said this is the way in Moriarty, from October to April-slow traffic at the Travel Center. I wouldn’t have guessed it was Shoulder Season last night, though, as the nearby Nachos Mexican Restaurant was packed.
I left Moriarty around 9:15 and headed towards Tucumcari and Amarillo, stopping for gas at some friends’ station in Milagro, a rural stop about halfway between Moriarty and “Tuke”. About five miles west of Tucumcari, there was a one car accident, closing the highway fro about twenty minutes. Some people decided to cross the grassy median, and drive west to the frontage road at Cuervo, then head back east. I thought better of that and stayed put, not being in any particular hurry.
Once traffic resumed, it was not long before I was in the first section of Mesalands, the Early Life exhibit, focusing on ancient sea life: Trilobites, ammonites and prehistoric insects are prominent in the collection of fossils from the Cambrian and Carboniferous Ages, the time before the emergence of amphibians in the Permian Era. There are then open rooms displaying fossils and bronze castings of dinosaurs and related reptilians, early avians and some mammalian megafauna. The Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous Eras are all well-covered. A small section is devoted to the Cenozoic Era, the modern time of mammals, including us humans.
This being a largely fossil-centric institution, minerals have their place in the exhibits, including the Shanks Collection, one of the loveliest mineral exhibits this side of Jerome State Park, in Arizona, which to me is the Gold Standard for mineral displays. Howard and Laura Shanks were keenly interested in the mineral and fossil troves of the Quay County area, collecting sizable amounts of all manner of unearthed gems, minerals and petrified animals and plants. These were donated to Mesalands Community College, in 2004, and the Museum was born. Paleontology has continued apace, with bronze castings and careful restoration of even large dinosaur fossils finding their places in this marvelous collaboration between Mesalands Community College and the people of Tucumcari.
Here are five photos from today’s visit to Tucumcari, Back Then.
Henry Gonzales, professional bronzecaster, who created the dinosaur marvels of Mesalands Dinosaur Museum and taught others his craft.Coelophysis, one of the terrors of the Triassic Period, was an ancestor of velociraptors, and of birds.An Apatosaurus got stuck in the mud, and left this for us.Torvosaurus, an apex predator of the Jurassic Era.A variety of petrified material, in one stone.
There was enough in this Best Kept Secret of northeastern New Mexico to keep me enthralled for two hours. Many more photos will be posted on my Flickr account: https://www.flickr.com/photos/86298326@N07/, over the next several days.
Now, I am resting at a Motel 6, on the west side of Amarillo. After breakfast, tomorrow, in this city’s “Fun Zone” (Old 66), I will make my way down to my little family’s home.
November 24, 2025, Moriarty, NM- I left Home Base I , around 8 a.m,, bound for Texas, with a few stops along the way. The first was the Monday morning Coffee Klatsch, where we each gave a rundown of Thanksgiving plans. I then set out for Winslow, encountering almost no traffic between Camp Verde and the famous corner from the Eagles’ tune. After a nice lunch at Relic Road (aka Sipp Shoppe), I found I-40 also relatively tame, even through Albuquerque, to this old ranching town that has become a favourite stopover of mine, being close to the Duke City and therefore halfway across New Mexico.
I did not focus on taking photos, having taken lots of the I-4- corridor, over the years. It is noteworthy, though, that late November is foliage season-for the cottonwood trees and shrubs along High Desert river banks. So, golds, bright yellows and rust-colours are a frequent site, across north central Arizona and New Mexico.
My attention was more drawn to a Sirius XM channel of ’70s Rock. A few songs conjured memories of people who figured in my life in that decade of dissolute behaviour. “Papa Was a Rolling Stone”, by the Temptations concerns the sons of a reckless, irresponsible man trying to determine the truth about him. The lyrics say he died on the Third of September. I knew a man who did pass away on that day, in 1971. That gentleman was the antithesis of the subject of the psychedelic soul tune. He was a man who never took a dime he hadn’t earned and who worked almost to the day he died.
“Seasons in the Sun, by Terry Jacks, brought the memory of four young men from my hometown, who were killed during the Vietnam Era, two in the war itself and two others, due to accidents in nearby countries. The notion of people dying young is voiced by Jacks, saying goodbye to his best friend, his father and his beloved. It struck many of us, at the time, as sappy and unrealistic. Yet, there were our contemporaries dying around us-and not just the four guys in the military. Disease and automobile accidents took their toll on our generation. One of my best friends in high school dies in a crash, not long after his graduation.
I switched to a folk song channel, just east of Gallup, being guided by less evocative tunes until arriving at Lariat Motel, where I am for the night. Still, the songs that came up on the ’70s “show” helped me that much more, in confronting lingering baggage.
November 23, 2025- The Kennedys of Hyannisport and, once upon a time, of the “American Camelot”, have long been an intriguing family of both legend and actual achievement. They have been far from perfect, but on balance, they have been engaged in responsible service to our country and to humanity.
Being of a similar age, I watched Caroline, John Jr. and many of their cousins grow up. Some died horribly tragic deaths, just as their fathers did before them. Others, like Caroline, have prospered and have served humanity admirably. I’ve watched from a distance, as she and her husband raised three children, in much the same way as Jacqueline Kennedy raised Caroline and John. The three Schlossberg children have each grown and built distinguished careers.
Tatiana, the middle child, was on track to write a definitive book on the health of our oceans. After the birth of her second child, however, she became violently ill and was tested for several postpartum reactions. She was, after a day or so of further tests, diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of leukemia, which she discusses openly in an essay in the most recent issue of The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-weekend-essay/a-battle-with-my-blood?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email
Having lived through the painful decline and passing of my wife, not so many years ago, I wish two things: That Tatiana’s leukemia goes into remission and that she is able to enjoy her two children, at least for a fair amount of time AND that ongoing research into all forms of cancer continue to bring positive outcomes to the cases of so many who are just suffering so massively. Let no one be a mere Guinea pig.
November 22, 2025- His voice cracking, and eyes starting to well, R stopped and recovered himself, then continued on with his account of the past five months, since I saw him last. R is one of the friends I will miss after leaving Prescott. He and his wife were among the first to welcome me, in 2011. Their restaurant is one of the mainstays of my life here, once a week, for breakfast or lunch. The shenanigans of the staff or of the locals that sit at the counter are always a hoot. I listened with rapt attention and reflective comments, as R filled me in on his so far successful fight for life. I want to see people win those kinds of battles.
Getting back to Home Base I, I arranged for the delivery of a piece of furniture that I have had re-upholstered. It had been in almost too sorry a condition to even invite people over. Now, it is in beautiful shape and I will be proud to hand it off to someone who needs a nice piece of furniture for their living room. As it happened, the delivery man’s schedule conflicted with my usual stint at Farmers Market, but as my cosmic advisor said of today-“It is a day to go with the flow, when life interrupts routine.” Delivery man and his helper were meticulous in bringing the piece in and getting it in place. They took their time folding their blankets and putting everything back in place.
I went to Farmers Market, anyway, and finding the crew dealing with a long line of vendors, I took care of cleaning and putting away the folding chairs and tables, then made headway in taking down at least some of the tents. It was then time for Baha’i Feast, so I left the nonetheless grateful crew, who by that time were finished with the vendors.
Feast was a cozy affair. We had our devotions and talked of community matters, then planned next month’s activities and enjoyed refreshments. This little community is also a group of people I will miss, having collaborated with them continuously for fourteen years, and having known many of them from our residence here in 1992 and 2000-01. The Baha’i Faith has only been an impetus for my positive growth as a human being.
Finally, I spent the evening at Raven Cafe, enjoying a light dinner and the music of a favourite local band, The Cheektones. Don and the boys have a knack for getting people up an dancing. I occupied an old wooden chair and had the company of a few friends of the band. After about 1 1/2 hours of bouncing in my seat, I got up and joined the dancing to the last two songs. Before I did so, the guys played a song that summed up today, and many days in my life: “Love and Mercy”, the Brian Wilson song from 1988. Here is an earlier performance by The Cheektones, from Prescott’s Summer Music on the Square series.
This is the last of my “two posts a day”, game of catch-up on this blog site. It has been sometimes a challenge, to find a theme for a given day, but from my readership, it seems there are plenty of you who identified with at least some of what has happened here, since my return from Europe.
November 21, 2025- One of my least favourite phrases in the American lexicon is “It’s better than Crack!” The media’s, and our culture’s, seeming love affair with narcotics, itself an outgrowth of alcohol and tobacco dependency, has long disgusted me. The team with which I worked today had a point, though: “Most people are not addicted to drugs.”
The MATFORCE team was waiting, prepped and ready, for me and more importantly, for the four groups of students we would inform about the uses, caveats and dangers associated with prescription drugs and their illicit/illegal counterparts that are being sold on the streets or by unscrupulous members of the medical profession.
I was guided to take this half-day assignment, probably my last at Mile Hi Middle School, a place where I have had many successful turns as a substitute teacher, over the past fourteen years-and a fair number in earlier periods of residence here. The heading said “Life Skills”, so it seemed well within my purview. Upon arrival in the classroom, I was greeted by her co-teacher from the next classroom, and appraised of the format for the morning. Then I met the MATFORCE team. (The acronym means Mobilizing Action Together for Community Empowerment.) The organization works diligently, across Arizona, to bring factual awareness of the effects of substances on the human body, and on the families and communities that are comprised of those inside all these bodies.
Each person who sat and listened, participated or absorbed the information had a different take. Most took the folder with information home with them. Some didn’t, either because they had the same lessons last year (the 8th graders) or because they just didn’t want extra papers lying around their rooms or in their backpacks. A few may have been spooked by the talk of fake Fentenyl, barbituates and amphetamines. None, however, were unaffected by the lesson.
Welcome to Stories From Tina- A tapestry of life woven with words. Here, every post is a heartbeat, every story a step on the path of extraordinary journey. Join Tina as she unfolds chapters of her life, sharing raw, honest experiences and the pearls of triumph to the valleys of challenge, Tina's tales are more than just personal anecdotes; they're beacons of inspiration and understanding, igniting conversations and community. Whether you're seeking solace in shared struggles or celebrating the quirks of daily life, Tina's reflections offer a comforting shoulder, a knowing smile, and a guiding light. Dive into a world where every story matters, and find a friend in Tina - because her story is, in many ways, everyone's story. Subscribe to Stories From Tina, and transform the ordinary into extraordinary, one post at a time.
A Sagittarian Seeker 