Primacy

2

February 24, 2020-

As I was driving home, from this evening’s study circle with some friends, I encountered a bicyclist on the dark and narrow country road.  With oncoming traffic, as well, my only rational choice was to stop and let the cyclist pass.  His well-being and safety had precedence, as I’m sure most would agree.  A similar incident, earlier this afternoon, involved waiting to turn, at a green light, whilst a person in a walker used the crossing.  It was helpful, though not necessary, that one of my neighbours waiting behind me, was not in an all-fire rush.

I have reached the point in my life, when each action, each step in a process, is given primacy, and the attention it is due.  I wasn’t always of this mindset, so perhaps it is the much vaunted “wisdom that comes with age”, the antidote to “There’s no fool like an old fool”.  It helps that, with each step thus completed, I feel satisfaction.  There is also the fact that there will be many “completions” in my life, this year:  My last period of abstaining from food and drink during the daylight hours of the first three weeks of March; my last two semesters of working full-time as a substitute teacher; possibly, my last year of living in Prescott (family needs would be what take me out of here; otherwise, this area is as fine a Home Base as anywhere one could live).

Essentially, what has primacy in my life is the Will of the Divine.  This reveals Itself to me, in large and small ways, each day-and with regard to the needs of other humans, or the needs of creatures, great and small.  With that thought, I need to sign off and get a good night’s sleep.  Tomorrow, and this entire week, are full, from morning to night.

Righting the Ship

4

February 23, 2020-

So, I got back to Home Base around 4 a.m., doing what is customary, under such circumstances: Sleeping for three hours.  It was then time to shower and do devotions, as always, and head off to the American Legion, for the last breakfast I will have with the mates, for a month or so-as my final physical Fast is approaching (March 1-19, this year).  A devotional meeting followed, in Prescott Valley, for which I was actually quite mentally present.

More sleep took up early afternoon, thus righting my physical/mental ship.  Among other things, the illness that lingered, for nearly two weeks, is finally gone.  Maybe the exercise, of pushing myself to do the long round trip to/from Indio, was exactly what was needed to push the remnants out.  Sometimes, counter-intuitive is the way to go.

At last night’s concert, Sheryl took a few minutes to engage the audience, as to who in the crowd was in their thirties, forties and fifties, the last being her own age group.  She asked how many were still having fun, in their fifties-as she certainly is.  A goodly number gave a rousing response.   That’s gratifying; people ought to enjoy life, at any age.  She didn’t ask US-those in our sixties and beyond, but I am, my row mates (also in their sixties) and the seventy-somethings, who were seated across the aisle, seemed to be having a great time of it, as well.

So, on we go. This coming week brings Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday/Lent and, for us Baha’is, Ayyam-i-Ha (the Intercalary Days of feasting and gift-giving, before our Fast begins, a week from today).

May it be a great run-up to Leap Day!

 

Sheryl Crow

4

February 22, 2020, Indio-

I have promised myself that this year, besides being my last year of full-time work, will be focused on the arts (especially music), honouring First Nations and reaching out to the rising generations as an ally.

With that in mind, some time ago, I accepted an online invitation from the singer Sheryl Crow, through her publicist, to attend a concert in this revitalized city on the eastern edge of California’s Colorado Desert. It’s been forty-eight years since I attended a performance by a musical A-Lister (1972, Harry Chapin).  Since Sheryl is one whom I follow on Facebook, it was a natural choice.

Making the trip resulted in not attending more spur-of-the-moment performances by local artists, back in Prescott, but I do spontaneous events back at Home Base,, all the time.  A major recording artist, or any touring musician, has to book venues and make plans, in consultation with the band and staff, well in advance.

Indio, over time, has had the good sense to nurture resort tourism, especially with the lucrative music festival in nearby Coachella becoming huge, on the concert calendar.  Fantasy Springs Resort is owned and operated by the Cabazon Band of Mission Indians.  With its golf course, casino and three-star hotel, the sparkling resort attracts top-flight entertainers.

Though the show started late, so as to give the audience’s many stragglers time to get seated, I felt I got my money’s worth, and I had a great seat-in the front and to the left of the stage. Had I been a bit less shy, I might have made a new friend of the comely lady sitting, and at one point dancing, alone on the other side of the stairway, but I was  primarily there for my friend’s music.  Excuses, excuses.

Sheryl and her band put on a rousing, energizing show, with her major pop hits of the past three decades and, reassuringly, her new material.  She included a couple of songs on which she had collaborated with the Eagles’ Joe Walsh, known for his unique high-pitched voice, as well as his intense guitar licks.  The lead guitarist emulated Joe’s command of the instrument, whilst a rhythm guitarist and backing vocalist nailed Joe’s vocal style.  All of the guitarists, including Sheryl,  also showed mastery of the keyboards, as they moved from one great delivery to another.

The nicest thing about bands like this is the sense of family.  Sheryl is the head of the group, but is no prima donna.  They are appreciative of  the audience, but there is no pandering- the band took no breaks and at the end of the one hundred five- minute set, there was a heartfelt thank you extended to the audience, the band left the stage and the road crew began dismantling the equipment-no gratuitous encore.  A recording of Sheryl’s past concert material filled the air, as we filed out. Ten o’clock is late enough for everyone involved in  putting the show together, to get their work done, and get their deserved rest.

The one aspect of the trip that had concerned me, returning to Prescott for tomorrow’s morning events, would turn out to be quite routine.  In the meantime, and always, I can say with a couple of other, very vocal, concert-goers:  I love you, Sheryl!

 

Retrograde

6

February 21, 2020-

It is said that, at certain times of the year, the planet Mercury appears to be moving backwards, or is in retrograde.  This is, of course, poppycock, but the illusion does have an effect on people, in the areas of relationships, transportation and finance.  People will use this illusion as an excuse to take negative actions, or to not take any action at all.  Sometimes, the latter is actually advisable, especially if life seems to be moving at too fast a pace.

I find winter, in general, as a good time to slow the pace a bit.  For me, that generally means staying, for the most part, within the bounds of my county of residence.  A couple of trips out of the area, last weekend to Yuma and tomorrow to Indio, to take in a Sheryl Crow concert, are exceptions to that, these past two months.  Energy has taken a back seat and my concentration has been mostly on boosting my immune system.

The retrograde gets credence from all the illness that has circled around our community-and many other parts of the country and the world.  I would make a humble suggestion, though:  Let us use the time to quietly connect and do manageable projects, both individually and in groups.  There will be time enough for the grand and far-reaching, in the fullness of spring and summer.

Sewing and Banana Bread

2

February 20, 2020-  

There are many twos, in today’s figuring, so pairs are a natural topic of discussion.  Two of us work with a disabled child, in the afternoon.  Couples are frequently my dinner companions, at American Legion Post gatherings, such as the one earlier this evening.  Two main concerns take up discussion at Sustainability Club meetings, at Prescott College:  Establishing sustainability-oriented community events on campus and  clean-up of the surrounding area, especially the two nearby creekbeds.

A sewing night has been scheduled for March 1, giving me a chance to donate my spare sewing box, inherited from my mother-in-law, when she moved from Prescott, in 2011.  Sewing machines are actually familiar to Millennials and Generation Z-at least far more than many of a certain age seem to realize.  So, too, is baking-and as much among men as among women.  I’m not, inherently, much for banana bread, but a young man did it well, for tonight’s meeting.

Two meteors, as I mentioned in the last post, paid their respects to our area, over the last week.  I am wondering which pairs of people, things or events will  make us take notice, the rest of this month, and afterward.

The Fireball That Blazed

2

February 19, 2020-

A few days ago, just as I was walking from my carport to the apartment (12 a.m.), I looked up to see a meteor, blazing northward.  Some people in town reported hearing a loud boom, right about that time.  Two days later, many people heard a second loud boom, around 7 p.m.

I had not seen a blazing meteor, prior to Sunday midnight, outside of high school Earth Science videos.  I took the sighting as some sort of affirmation, that those of us who saw it are on the right path, in whatever direction each is headed.  I also  sense that there will be some discomfort, some pain, but that it is the cost that must be borne.

This would mean that our communities, as well, are on the right track.  For Prescott, that could mean that showing prudence, with respect to striking a balance between preservation of our natural treasures-Granite Dells, the five man-made lakes, Thumb Butte and Granite Mountain Wilderness- and new construction is the right course of action.  For the whole region, taking care to not deplete our water resources is also huge.

Natural phenomena do not happen in isolation, so I imagine there will be other portents to come, during the course of this year.  I intend to keep my eyes and ears open.

 

Tidying Up

4

February 18, 2020-

Back to what passes for normal,

I  helped provide some stability

to a child whose inner world

is in constant uproar.

Then, I took care of my own innards,

getting chiropractic for the last of

an infection that just seemed

to have taken up residence.

Happily, it’s taking the hint.

An overdue haircut

and a plate of enchiladas mole

ended the day just nicely.

So began the shortened work week.

(Mole, pronounced mo-LAY, is a sauce of unsweetened chocolate, used with chicken of turkey, in parts of central Mexico.  Lindo Mexico, a Mexican restaurant here offers the dish.)

 

Barriers Are In the Mind

6

February 17, 2020, Yuma-

A commenter on one of my recent posts, on another social media site, took issue with the notion that freedom has a price.  Once, an explanation of that statement was offered, he had a better appreciation o fits meaning.    He did, for his part, also make a valid point:  We can choose not to surrender our freedom to those who would take us down and use us for their own designs. Indeed, I have made several choices, even so far this year, that have not set well with some others.  In the end, though, they can also choose for themselves, as to a best course of action.  The sun should not rise and set, with any other person, when it comes to making choices of one’s own.

After a three-hour visit with some long-time friends, in this bustling border city, I took in two sites that focus on the consequences of discordance and social unrest:  Yuma Territorial Prison State Historic Park and the border wall at San Luis.

The Prison is, of course,defunct as a place of incarceration.  It long ago  gave  way to a more “up-to-date” facility, in Florence, itself now slated for closure, after over 100 years of use.  Yuma Territorial Prison was established in 1875, at the behest of the area’s representative in the Arizona Territorial Legislature:  Jose Maria Redondo.  It served as the Arizona Territory’s place of incarceration, from 1876-1909.

Since that time, Yuma has alternately used the facility as a temporary high school (1910-1914), a homeless shelter (1930-39) and, most recently, as the centerpiece of the city’s historical heritage preservation.

Here are a few scenes of the present State Historical Park. Below, is a view of the Colorado River’s wetlands, below the Park grounds.

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Here is the railroad bridge, opposite the Park.  It is still in use.

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This was the Parade Ground.

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This was the Guard Tower.

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These are two views of the Sally Port  (Puerto de Salir), or main entrance to the enclosed prison.

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The present-day Museum is in the site of the Prison Mess Hall.

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Men and women, Mormon polygamists and Mexican revolutionaries, white collar thieves and cutthroats-all shared this facility, at one time or another. The most famous of its  prison breaks, the Gates Riot  (October, 1877), saw Superintendent Thomas Gates taken hostage, one of his trusted inmates, Barney Riggs, come to his rescue and killed Gates’ attacker.  The would-be escapees went to the Dark Cell, Gates suffered the ill-effects of the attack for the remaining twenty years of his life and Riggs was eventually set free.

Here is a view of the main cell block.

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Next, a couple of views of the typical cell.

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These were the first bunk beds.

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Finally, this is a view of the Dark Cell, the holding place of the most incorrigible prisoners.

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In spite of appearances, the Yuma facility was progressive for its time. It had electricity, running water and was mostly operated with a rehabilitative, rather than a punitive, mindset.

I left this city, for a forty-minute ride to San Luis, to take a brief look at the border crossing leading to the large Sonoran community of San Luis Rio Colorado. It was peak crossing time for day labourers, who were returning home.  In fairness, the barrier here looks nothing like the much-photographed Bollock sections, in other areas along the frontier.  I don’t much care for the fortress-like images being promoted as “necessary”, but the real barriers to human progress are in the mind.  This puts the onus for social change and justice squarely on those creating the barriers-both the antisocial elements whose actions generate fear and the reactionaries who fancy that building such structures will obviate any further efforts at rectifying the imbalances present in society.

Most of us, whether “liberal” or “conservative”, actually fall somewhere in the middle on this one.  I wonder how Thomas Gates, the reformer penologist, would have dealt with undocumented immigrants.

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When Relics Crumble

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February 16, 2020, Yuma-

Driving down AZ 95, towards this vibrant border city, I passed the remnants-the shell- of a western Arizona mainstay:  Stone Cabin.  It was, I’m told, a favourite stopping place for people traveling between Las Vegas and  Mexico, during the 1950’s, ’60’s and ’70’s.  There was a large gas station and a bustling snack bar, with space for families to get out and stretch their legs, in an area which otherwise had no amenities for travelers.

Today, as I drove past, there was only the shell of the building, with no signage indicating what once was.  I knew what it was, only because of an earlier road mileage sign, on which Stone Cabin was listed.  I could sense happy ghosts, of those who had found respite there, at least during the eight months a year that Stone Cabin’s proprietors kept it open. (There was not as much traffic through the area, during the hottest months of the year:  May-August.)

Many things fall apart, in anyone’s life and in the life of a community, during the course of years, decades and, with respect to the larger social entity-centuries.  I have a certain amount of time left and, while not knowing-or needing to know, how much that is, I will carry on with what I sense is given me to do.

Society does much the same.  Some feel it is a necessary social project, to build barriers:  Walls and fences, which they hope will keep  unsavory intruders from entering the American nation.  I have my doubts, as no wall has thus far accomplished its stated purpose, in perpetuity.  We’ll see.  The project has accomplished a division of people, but across ideological lines.  It won’t physically crumble until long after the generations which have reached adulthood, as of the present day, are gone.  My own hope is that it will generate a meaningful and earnest conversation, between the physically-divided peoples, albeit from a spot where the most fearful people are experiencing a sense of relief.  When unity is realized, the wall’s builders will have unwittingly obviated its purpose.

Relics crumble, even after they have offered a fair number of people a sense of well-being.

 

Treasures

4

February 15, 2020, Sedona-

I treasure you, the professional singer,

not for your sensuality or for your ferocity,

though both are formidable.

They do not define you.

It is that voice, which can transcend genres,

making bee-bop sound lilting and melodic,

bringing folk into the realm of whimsy,

making anyone’s standard your own.

I treasure you, the gracious host,

yourself bursting into glorious song,

whilst preparing a latte,

or a complex healthy beverage,

with ten ingredients.

It is your heart, though,

that makes the newest,

most casual visitor,

as important as

the regulars in the back room.

I treasure you,

the multi-genre guitarist

and songwriter,

welcoming all

to one of the finest jam sessions,

I’ve had the pleasure to join,

in quite a few months.

I treasure you,

the musical video-making

wanderer,

who, like me,

finds as much beauty

on the plains of Kansas,

as in the canyons of the Southwest,

the seacoasts of our nation’s periphery,

or the exquisite high mountain ranges.

This spirit brings your voice into focus,

and that lilting voice,

such a sublime counterpart

to the raw vocal power around you.

I treasure the place,

called Synergy,

where the little impromptu family,

has deigned not to build a wall around itself.