Patriot’s Day

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January 14, 2016, Prescott-

Bostonians tend to hang together,

Hell or high water.

The film now out,

depicting the events of 4/2013,

shows this, true to form.

My life, back in the day,

was mirrored by  the way

people had each other’s backs.

Seeing these scenes,

brought me to tears.

There were so many memories

of the fires we endured,

as eighth-graders,

in the year of strife: 1963.

There was so much heartache,

in 1973-75,

when the neighbourhoods

were pitted against each other.

This was Boston, though,

and we saw through the deception.

We came back together.

We stayed bonded, all of us,

even from a distance,

during 9/11,

and once again,

during April, 2013.

The phone call home,

after the bombings,

brought a blessed message:

“Nick didn’t run this year.

Everyone’s okay here.”

Meaning Business

4

January 12, 2017, Prescott-

The child claimed what’s his.

A grown man can’t hold what’s his.

I make little go far.

The above verse is in reference to one of our boys speaking out, about respect, across all lines. He is the smallest of our students, but is being raised by loving parents, to not give an inch, to anyone bigger and stronger, when it comes to holding onto what belongs to him.

A very troubled man, claiming to speak for his Lord, is finding that hubris is an empty vessel, and doesn’t take the place of living in the path of God’s Messengers.  He is leaving shattered pieces, for others to pick up and carry forward.

Much had to be done, financially, these past two weeks.  I made it, thanks to a short-term advance from my bank, which will be re-paid, in full, at midnight.  This is a small example of what gets achieved, time and again, with relatively little.  I will not let my responsibilities, to loved ones, or to those who meet my needs, ever go unmet.

Responsibility for self is always basic.

Each Part Matters

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January 11, 2017, Prescott Valley-

Each boy’s lesson had my full attention,

and, for the most part, his.

Each faith community member’s insight,

was elicited, and heard.

Each section of the study unit

had our full attention,

and time was set aside,

for the last remaining section,

a week from today.

The story of a hiking party’s survival,

on New Year’s Night,

was as important to us,

gathered THIS evening,

as any critical agenda item.

Every atom is essential;

every minute, of consequence.

PrescottWinter

2

January 10, 2017, Prescott-

Small patches of dirty snow,

chilly fog in morning- “Jan-gloom”.

Daily walk to start the morning,

boys find the puddles,

splash, and bemoan the cold.

Less tussling, and verbal bravado,

now that a Special Needs mom,

is in charge.

Here we are,

in the prime learning stretch,

between New Year’s and Spring Break.

New River’s Wilds, Part I: Finding the Boy Scout Loop

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January 8, 2017, New River-  I did it right, this time; I found, and walked, the Boy Scout Loop.  Taking the northbound route, from New River’s Emery Henderson Trailhead, the next to last such springboard to Black Canyon National Recreation Trail, as one gets towards Phoenix, it was a non-taxing 5.75 miles, each way, including the Loop itself. Starting with the trailhead itself, there are five covered ramadas and BLM-style restrooms, greeting the bicyclists, hikers and equestrians who flock to this part of the Sonoran Desert, for a fair guarantee of a satisfying day in lush mesquite and saguaro forests.

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The first 1/4 mile is marked by what had been a developer’s road, complete with blue-staked gas lines marking either side of the trail.  There is no gas hook-up, nor are there any further signs of prospective development.  This project was one that went belly-up in 2008.

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Once past this bladed wasteland, the cacti, succulents and hardy desert trees take over.  The terrain is not as rugged as that further north, with the washes and creek beds of the New River and its tributaries generally dry, even with the goodly amount of rain we had, the first few days of the new  year.

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The rock above had been struck by lightning, some years back, thus showing the bright sandstone, under its veneer of gray.

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Near this crossroads, I came upon two runners- husband and wife.  The lady had been injured, whilst running, and fortunately, the driver of this truck came back from target shooting, nearby, and was able to give them a ride back to the trailhead.

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It’s always wise, even in easy terrain, to keep an eye out for the triangular Black Canyon Trail markers.  Numerous ATV and shooting range roads cross the trail.  I must add that target shooters have been uniformly careful, and respectful of those whose day in the desert is more oriented towards fitness.  Younger shooters, and off -road drivers, are well-supervised by older family members.  The teams are very careful, in my experience, to pick up their shell-casings and other trash.

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After 1 1/2 hours, and 4.8 miles, I came to the southern end of Boy Scout Loop.  I took the western route, going another 1.5 miles to the Loop’s northern terminus.  The west side uses a BLM road, and features a moderate ascent, the only remotely challenging part of this segment.  A Boy Scout troop  from Cave Creek, about ten miles east of here, is said to have built this trail.

There are a few low mountains rising, north of Boy Scout Loop.  One of these, at the base of which I stopped, the day after Christmas, turns out to be just across a wash bed from the BSL’s northern tip.  The fence below marks a boundary between BLM land and State Trust property.

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Above, is the rather well-hidden northern terminus of Boy Scout Loop.  A single track leads back to the other end, going around a small mountain and through New River’s dry bed, on its way.

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This segment, as indicated earlier, is a more leisurely, non-taxing route than its counterparts to the north.  Nonetheless, it, and the remaining Biscuit Flat segment, which I will visit at the end of this month, are good indicators of the fragility of the Sonoran Desert, and of the special relationship the residents of New River and Table Mesa have with their surroundings.  Indeed, on the way back, near where the runners were rescued, a man was coaching his daughter on proper shooting, cleaning a rifle and policing spent shell casings.  I feel safer among such folk than I do in some shopping malls.

I topped off the day with a unique Jalapeno Ranch Burger, the pride of New River’s Raodrunner Saloon, which was, suitably, packed with locals this evening.  Waylon and the kids are always gracious to those from near and far.

This was a fitting end to a well-spent Christmas-New Year’s.  Tomorrow, it’s back to work for nine weeks.  We will do well.

 

 

 

 

First Aid

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January 7, 2017, Prescott-

I spent five hours, this morning and early afternoon, getting certified in Psychological First Aid, a skill that is necessary for me to be on our area Red Cross Individual Compassionate Care Team (ICCT).

Being so certified has been almost second nature for me, since childhood.  Despite being seemingly clueless, as to other people’s suffering, it’s been my inclination to pitch in and help out ( with a listening ear and helping hands, more than with an open wallet- which doesn’t always have much in it, anyways).

This is what led me to become a counselor, and still keeps me in the loop, with regard to community healing.  So, after a bit more red tape, I will be on the ICCT, as well as staying on full time, with Prescott Public Schools.

Enough about me, though.  The whole concept of public service may well be challenged, in the next four years.  I have a “wait and see” attitude, right now, and we certainly can’t expect much forward progress on our issues, if there is a building of walls, both physical and mental, as an immediate priority.  WE, at the Red Cross, and in the schools, will continue to place top priority on the well-being of those who are hurting, and on the community as a whole.

Crowns

4

January 6, 2017, Phoenix-

Dental day,

and I am given

a mostly clean

bill of health.

A chipped tooth,

must be crowned soon,

so time gets set aside.

I honour my angel,

as other departed souls

are given their due.

The cemetery is busy

on this cool Epiphany Day.

Later, it is explained to me,

that angels were created

to serve Man.

My angel wears a crown, of pure gold,

having seen  to me meeting my needs.

In the evening,

I present a living angel,

with a gift from my heart,

as no child should ever

feel forgotten, or of no worth.

This girl will make her own

crown of glory.

 

Out of the Fog

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January 5, 2017, Palm Desert-

I left the coast’s Jan gloom behind

A Blue Hole greeted five of us

descending from the San Jacinto,

the driver of the lead monster truck,

seemingly driving blind.

Somehow, doing fifty,

in a 25 miles an hour stretch,

made sense to him,

while we behind him, retched.

I would drive on,

and back into the rain,

but here in the desert,

sand and sun held domain.

Who Wants What?

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January 4, 2017, San Diego- In the course of conversation today, a subject that always seems to come to the fore, when talking with unmarried young men,and sometimes with those who ARE wed, occupied a fair amount of time:  What do women actually WANT?

My answer to that has emerged over about three decades- Basically, people all want the same three things:  Respect, a sense of autonomy and a measure of security.   No one really wants to feel set up, used or unappreciated.  This seems to sometimes be falling on deaf ears, to a person who feels alone. Actually, though, the lonely man and the woman who falls into the waiting arms of a man who will disrespect her, or worse, are more alike than they each seem to think.

Sometimes, both are impatient, regarding life as something that is passing them by.  The lonely man, especially if he is kind, generous, hard-working and family-oriented, sees a relationship/marriage as the one thing he needs to complete his life.  The settling woman, especially if she has been sheltered, places autonomy, and an emotional challenge, over the fawning attention of one who is love-struck.  Yet, she, too, sees a relationship, however flawed, as the one thing she needs to complete her life.

Both seek validation of their view of self, as well.  The man who sees himself as virtuous and protective, can’t understand why women tell him that he isn’t their “type”.  The woman who sees herself as either unworthy of respect, or, conversely, as too sheltered, can’t understand why men don’t present a coarser, or at least less solicitous, demeanor.  These attitudes start way back in middle-childhood, sometimes earlier. They have something to do with parenting, as well as with broader socialization. (There are also exceptions to every rule.)

I learned, after so many years as a fulminating, unsettled young adult, in my late teens and twenties, that “You’re not my type” is as much of an excuse,as “Women are such jerks about relationships”.  In looking for answers to my own predicament, I met, and listened to, several downcast people, of both genders.  It became obvious that, if I wanted to meet one who would be my mate, for life, I would have to truly absorb her reality- past experiences, present circumstances, future dreams.  This happened to me, as so often happens, when I felt genuinely ready for a relationship, while having no idea with whom.  I met Penny two weeks later, we discussed all the above issues, and more, over 29 years, and I developed a real sense of what mattered to both of us.

Egos are fragile.  Life is fluid.  Everyone deserves respect, the right to pursue their dreams and a measure of security.  I wish all my  friends, especially my young friends, a wellspring of all three.