Category Archives: Assistance

The Hana Chronicles: Month7, Day 5

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Travel

July 26,2026- When I got back from my Red Cross volunteer stint, this afternoon, the family was gone. A bit later, I received a photo of Aram enjoying a gelato cone, while Hana looked up at him, wistfully. The little girl is grateful for all the nutritious food we give her, but I think part of her wishes she could have have the treats we enjoy.

Her father is convinced that, as long as she can’t speak English or Korean fluently, she is not really thinking. I see too much of her, day to day, to ever make that mistake. She and I have a deeper communication, and she will not hesitate to tell me what she is feeling, even using English phrases, every so often.

At dinner, she had her first taste of pureed stewed tomatoes. She grimaced at the first few bites, then took the rest without any fuss. When she saw us laughing at her grimaces, she laughed also. I am glad that my granddaughter doesn’t have a congenital feeling of inferiority. I hope she will keep on being able to laugh at herself.

HANA’S NOTE- I like to try new foods. I just wish they included the stuff that’s in the cones that Mommy and Daddy were eating today. Maybe some day, I will get to try it.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-1978 The Maine years drew to a close, in September. It was 45 F ,(7 pm, EDT) at Bangor International Airport, when I boarded an American Airlines jet, bound for Phoenix. I landed at Sky Harbor at 11 pm, MST. It was 104 F.

To no one’s surprise, I was let go at the end of the school year, due to “budget constraints”. I was actually glad to be leaving. The Title I math tutoring job was alright, but I didn’t fit in well. I spent a month or so working in the summer program, called Maine Journeys-an interesting premise that took seventh graders around the state, even into New Brunswick-and Mactaquaq Park, near Fredericton. I just didn’t have the composure to tolerate admittedly minor misbehaviour. It was time to leave.

My sister, Cheryl, and her boyfriend, Steven, were married in late June, so I hitched my way down for the wedding. Going back was by Greyhound. After staying at a boarding house in Dexter, west of Bangor, and helping the owner paint her front porch, I landed a job at a Boarding School for the children of wealthy patrons, in Toltec, Arizona-halfway between Phoenix and Tucson. Before I left, Mrs. Knox told me that I’d enjoy my Thirties (I was 27 at the time) and that Arizona was full of breathtaking sights.

I arrived at Villa School (later called Villa-Oasis School), in the company of my immediate supervisor, Patrick Giovanditto, who got me situated into a spacious apartment, around midnight. The next day, I met the Headmaster and his wife, and the administrative team.The students showed up a week later. I was the senior high math teacher. The lessons went fairly well. I was additionally given the assignment of teaching Physics to one Senior, an otherwise pleasant young man from Australia, who had absolutely no interest in the subject. Before we really established any kind of footing, though, he got into a loud argument with one of the administrators and was expelled. The administrative process was rather strict, and several of the brighter, more outspoken students found themselves in similar states.

The Villa was, if nothing else, my gateway into Arizona. I explored much of the central part of the state, during the Fall and, at Christmas time, joined one of the administrators on a road trip as far as Michigan. We stayed at a 5-Star hotel, in the Chicago Loop,as it was managed by his brother. I stayed in a room whose last occupant had been Henry Fonda. I don’t think I’ve been in such swanky digs, before or since.After he dropped me off near Ann Arbor, I found a ride to Toledo, and from there caught a bus to Boston. New England for the holidays was again a special treat.

My climb out of the emotional hole I had dug was well underway.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 7, Day 3

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Historical, Personal Values, Social, Striving

July 24, 2026- When I rest my head on the large plush lion, while with Hana in her play pen, my granddaughter sits quietly next to me, as if watching over her Papa. Aram would do the same thing with Penny and me, when he was a baby.

Hana looks at my watch, very intently, when it is about the normal time for her parents to get home from work. It has Roman numerals on it, but somehow, between the position of the numerals and her own internal clock, she knows it is time for their return. If they are late, she starts calling “mama mama mama” or “oma”.

Our walk today took us past the nearest elementary school. I told Hana that, if we are still here when she reaches school age, that will be her school. She gave a big smile at that news. It is just past a pleasant section of Hoblitzelle Park, and a bridge over Russell Creek. She likes going that way, on our walks, as do I.

She has had a good week, despite the intense heat of Monday and Tuesday.

HANA’S NOTE- Papa doesn’t know it, but I have been looking at his watch, when Mommy or Daddy come home, every night for a while now. I don’t know what the letters mean, but I know that’s when our family is all together again.

YEAR In REMEMBRANCE-1976 This was our nation’s Bicentennial. When Independence Day came around, I was again working at Quisisana, for the summer. I went with the Staff Waiter, to Bridgton, his home town, and took in the festivities there. We each had an open can of beer, which a police officer spotted and told us that was illegal; then he just walked away. We finished our beers and found a trash can. The other thing about Quisi was that I did not make any lasting friends this time around. I was less focused, having spent the months after my graduation, substitute teaching in Saugus and up the road, in North Reading. Neither town had opportunities for a new teacher; the waiting list for a Social Studies teacher was quite lengthy and the oldest teachers were in their late fifties, not at all ready for retirement. It was also during my time at Quisisana that a family member suffered a horrible injury and we lost someone very close to our family, in the same accident. That sent me on a tailspin, and I made serious errors in judgement with regard to some budding friendships.

After Quisisana, I went up to the Bangor area, and subsisted between substitute teaching at Bangor Junior High and High School and tutoring a homebound student in a nearby town. I lived in a boarding house for a time, then moved in with a couple of young men who had advertised for a roommate. That lasted until mid-February of the following year. While there, I lived a quiet life and disturbed on one. In November, I was hired as a Title I Paraprofessional, whose responsibility was to run a self-contained program for eight emotionally-handicapped middle school boys. It was in a rural school district. I put together what could best be described as a patchwork program. I had no real administrative support and no background in the field of Special Education. I was a warm body, who showed up most days. It did no one much good.

Other than being close to a large family of a paternal uncle, aunt and cousins, and enjoying many lovely parts of Maine, the decision to re-locate there was not one of my brightest moves.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 7, Day 2

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Striving

July 23,2026- “Oma!” Hana was worried about her mother, when I mentioned that her parents were on their way home. Both her Mom and Dad got home safely. So, the little girl’s worries were for naught. Still, I can only imagine what goes through a child’s mind.

Aram was with us for part of the day, as he had a medical appointment in late morning. So, the three of us walked together, on our usual route through the park. A neighbour engaged us in conversation, for about twenty minutes, during which Hana slept soundly.

The rest of the day went smoothly. We played a lot, with Hana crawling all over her grandfather, my putting rings on a cone and her alternately tipping the cone over or taking one ring off the cone at a time. The neighbour mentioned above said that, sooner or later, I would treasure my alone time. Right now, I’d say that is off the mark.

HANA’S NOTE- I saw Mommy driving while she was tired, so I called out to her, in Korean. Nothing bad happened to her.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-1975 This was an interesting year. I lived in two different places- a rooming house in Northampton and a shared apartment, in South Deerfield. I completed my baccalaureate, and had a mediocre stint as Teaching Intern. I was determined to up my game, when the actual jobs came about. I worked in the spring as a short-order cook in a country cafe (I was terrible at this one), in the summer as a custodian at Northampton Public Schools and in the fall as a stocker in a package store (alcoholic beverages). I had the unique experience of being fired at the latter, on my 25th birthday. It turned out that the assistant manager’s son needed a job, and the A.M. felt I was doing work that he considered his turf.

The rooming house found me with four housemates-two rather testy older men, a woman who was also at UMass and an 87-year-old widow, who was the nicest of the four. When things got too heated between me and one of the older men, I left and found the apartment. I first shared the place with three stoners, and did painting and small repairs on the place, when they left. A nice couple with a little girl came in after them. We got along well, and I left the place to them, when I graduated.

I spent about a week, between the summer and fall jobs, hiking the Presidential Range in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. I met quite an eclectic bunch at the various Appalachian Mountain Club huts and actually hauled two bags of trash from the hut on Mount Jefferson to the base of Mount Adams.

1975 was definitely an interesting year.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 30

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July 21, 2026- My little girl cried for nearly a half hour, this afternoon, before finally letting go and falling asleep on my shoulder. She sometimes is so tired that, like many a toddler, she fights sleep, while remaining miserable. She has a little way to go, before being a toddler, but her mindset is already there.

On either side of the meltdown, Hana was happy-with her lunch, with our little walk, with playtime and with the story I read. We went outside while it was still relatively mild (87 F). The temperature eventually hit 107. We didn’t have to face any of that.

This caps six months of life outside the womb. In that time span, Hana has mastered crawling with her body elevated, sitting up independently, eating pureed solid food, sipping water from a cup with a straw, feeding herself with a soft spoon and calling for her mother and father by title.

HANA’S NOTE- I was so tired this afternoon, I just cried and cried. Papa was patient and I slept in his arms for a long time. i heard him say it was one and a half hours-whatever those are.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-1973 This was the second year at North Shore Community College. I had to leave the Beverly house, in May, because the owner sold the house and we all dispersed. After looking around at different options, I went back to my parents’ house. Work was at United Parcel Service, sorting packages by destination, in the wee hours of the weekdays. I also worked security at Crane Beach, in Ipswich, MA during the summer and in the stockroom at our local Sears, Roebuck, during the fall. This was a year for taking in the Winter Carnival in Quebec City, running a college tour to Montreal and taking a road trip to Prince Edward Island, in early June.

I ended the year by preparing to transfer to the University of Massachusetts-Amherst. I did credibly at NSCC, earning an Associate Degree in General Studies.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 27

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Family, Historical, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving, Travel

July 18. 2026- Hana greeted the ladies who came to visit us, this afternoon. This was Yunhee’s first real house party, and five of her former co-workers came. Hana likes a small, intimate gathering, but doesn’t like too much noise, or what seems to her like a crowd. I helped her get comfortable with the idea of so many people sitting around the dining table. She understood, when I told her that all the ladies were nice and that they were there to see her, as well as her mother.

It meant a lot to her Mom, and to us men, that this afternoon went well. We enjoyed Korean-style fried chicken, Malaysian empanadas,and Filipino purple yam cake. The conversation centered on dealing with the heaviness in the logistics industry, but floated to topics of fashion, child-rearing and the anomalies that pop up in moving a household, in which two of the ladies-mother and daughter-are now engaged. A comparison between living in Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex and Greater Atlanta entered into discussion. We also talked of travel in east Asia-Singapore, Korea and the Philippines. It was a lovely afternoon.

When the ladies got ready to leave, Hana spoke loudly, seeming to say “Thank you for coming.” She also smilingly took part in the ladies’ group photo. This evening, it was hard for her to wind down, but after I told her that tomorrow will be another happy day, if she gets a good rest, her father put her in the crib and she rolled over to go to sleep.

HANA’S NOTE- I had fun in the playpen with the first two ladies that came and went to take a nap, after a while. When I woke up, there were three more ladies here. That confused me and at first I was upset. Mommy and Papa got me to understand what had happened. It was fun after that.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE- 1970 This year was spent keeping the mail delivery system at the Tri-Service Barracks at Fort Myer well-functioning. I was able to move into that barracks, myself, after five months. There were many weekends spent in Washington, primarily in Georgetown. I also walked-a lot, around the city, at one point going all the way to Rockville, MD and on another occasion, found myself in Coral Hills, a northeastern suburb. My co-worker, Charlie, was from southeast DC, and commuted each day. He was flabbergasted that I had walked all that way, but it is what I’m used to doing.

I took part in a couple of anti-war demonstrations, and associated with a progressive group that had set up a free university, they called “New University”. I sat in on a few of their lectures. I walked away from the demonstrations, though, after some of the participants started attacking DC police officers. I later learned that there were agents provocateurs among the crowd. My association stopped altogether, after I was directed by my Commanding Officer to join a detail that stockpiled pro-war pamphlets in a DC Public Schools warehouse. Somehow, I was photographed in fatigues at that exercise, and the photos were circulated among identified radical groups,

I met different public figures, during the year: Vice President Spiro Agnew and his wife, on a Georgetown street, with Agnew telling me he was “for the war and am anti-you”; Senator J. Strom Thurmond, who was jogging near the Capitol, and encouraged me to always stay active; Chicago 8 defendant Rennie Davis, who was nervous about being re-arrested and Abbie Hoffman, at a large anti-war event. Hoffman said, “Watch this, kid”, then turned to a TV set that featured Richard Nixon making a speech. He kicked the TV off the stage, into an empty grassy area. I was not impressed, and left right afterward.

I went back and forth from DC to Massachusetts, several times during the year. I met a few young ladies, and basically we passed through each other’s consciousness like ships in the night. In the middle of 1970, one of my neighbourhood friends from Saugus was gravely wounded in VietNam. He survived and is still alive. That, however, along with my increasing annoyance with both sides in the war debate, made me decide to go to Viet Nam and see for myself, what was going on. I asked HQ Company, U.S. Army First Sergeant Harper for help in getting re-assigned, infuriated my pacifist friends-and gave up the easy life at Fort Myer, early in 1971.

It was time for innocence to end.

Korean Onion Chicken

Filipino Purple Yam cake

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 26

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Historical, Inner Struggles, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

July 17,2026- Hana and I were asleep in the recliner, so deeply that I didn’t notice Aram going in and out to get the mail. My granddaughter has the same calming effect on me that I have on her.

We had a busy “half day”, in that her parents came home from work early, to take her to a medical appointment. We thus managed our walk, “wrestling” (her crawling on me and my lifting her up in the air, in vestibular motion) and lunch time into a shorter frame. There was also story time, centered on “Sleeping Beauty”. Maleficent is portrayed in this brief version only as the “Old Fairy”. She ends up getting turned into a frog. Hana thought that was funny.

She is always overjoyed when one of us comes back to the house, after having been away for a brief errand. Having the family all together is a big deal to my granddaughter. She is delighted to just sit in the high chair at each meal, even at breakfast, which for her is a liquid feeding, still. She has complete meals at lunch and dinner.

HANA’S NOTE- I went to have my blood checked-AGAIN. This time, the nurse only stuck me once with the needle. So, that was not as bad.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE- 1969 This was a year of firsts: My first time on an airplane; my first trip outside New England; my first extended time away from family; my first time really hallenging myself.

I left Star Market in January and went to work at General Electric’s Riverworks Plant, in Lynn, MA. My fahter, and several relatives and neighbours worked there, as well. Dad got me in. I worked in the rotometer calibration section. The senior technician told me my work was substandard, but he never bothered complaining to the higher=ups. Nor did he offer specific criticism that might have helped me improve.

It was a placeholder job, anyway, as I had asked the Army Reserve Unit to let me enlist in the Regular Army. My plan was to enlist for 3 years, then apply for an early release, so as to return to college. My enlistment date was set for June 16, and the recruiter determined I’d be best suited for the Army Postal Corps. I left G.E. on May 1, and focused somewhat on physical training.

Basic Training was at Fort Jackson, SC. I started off as a mewling klutz, but slowly and surely got with the program. I scraped by in marksmanship, missed Combat Fire-but never was made to re-take it, though I asked to do so, and excelled in the Physical Training Test. I did fairly well in the G-3 (General Knowledge) Exam, which was oral. On weekends, we had free time, and I went with a couple of guys who were from Columbia, to their favourite hangouts. I was the sole White guy with four African-Americans, but none of the Whites we encountered gave us any trouble over it.

Woodstock happened while I was doing things like learning how to properly handle grenades and re-sight my M-16. We were brought into a room and allowed to watch the launch of the first Apollo rocket to the Moon. Training was canceled that day. I made enough of an improvement that the cadre sent me on a 3-day pass to Myrtle Beach, on Labor Day weekeend.. I saw that there was little difference between it and the beach towns of New England, though the water was warmer. I stayed in a two-bed shack for $1 a night, and had the place to myself.

Fort Ben Harrison and the postal training were footnotes. I didn’t really bond with anyone in the unit, but went into Indianapolis by myself a few times on weekends. I never did get to the racetrack, though. Many of the guys went to VietNam, after AIT. I was sent to Fort Myer, Va. I was assigned to straighten out a mail operation, as my predecessor had ended up in Fort Leavenworth, for various postal crimes. That made a distinct impression on me. I got the job done quickly, to the satisfaction of the Inspector General. That November, a high school friend was killed in Viet Nam, and I began to re-assess what my responsibilities were. I fasted that Thanksgiving, and decided to give Fort Myer a year, after which I would re-assess my situation. Seeing Washington, D.C. on weekends was great fun, though, and I began to bond with civilians in the Georgetown neighbourhood, whose views on life were similar to my own.

Thus did the ’60s come to an end.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 24

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

July 15, 2026- Hana is taking on small responsibilities, with regard to getting dressed and feeding. She puts her sleeves through the body bib at lunchtime and can feed herself if someone puts food on the spoon and hands it to her. She chooses which of two outfits she wants to wear for the day and helps put the onesie or dress over her head. She also sits up straight in the plastic bath tub and is better about letting her mother wash her hair. She already likes to “wipe” the play mat, using a small bamboo cloth.

She is learning a lot by watching the three of us do different tasks. We describe what we are doing, step by step, and she listens with rapt attention. With repetition, much of this will register, as the months roll on. As I mentioned above, she has pretty much mastered sitting up. If she is tired, it helps her to have someone or something to hold onto, but otherwise, my granddaughter is on track, developmentally.

Today, we sat by the window and watched the cement truck pour concrete into the forms for the new sidewalk and landing. After a few minutes, she became more interested in feeling the curtain, but went back to watching the cement pouring after that. We stayed in today, because of the work being done, especially as there was really no room for a stroller anywhere in our immediate front walk.

HANA’S NOTE- I took my medicine tablet by myself, when Papa gave it to me, and I made it dissolve in my mouth. After another little while, I put my arms in the big bib. I like to be helpful.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE- 1967 (I am writing this part, so that Hana may read these reflections, when she gets old enough, and will understand things that happened to her Grandfather.) Junior year saw me break a few rules and set myself on a path with some bad choices. I never got in trouble with the Law, fortunately, but I know my use of alcohol hurt my parents’ hearts and it did me no favours, in the long run. I went to work at Star Market, shortly after I turned 16. As it was three miles from my home, I got rides for the first few months. Then, thanks to the long-suffering, but fastidious, Coach Wall, I earned my Driver’s License. I learned to scan the road on both sides of me, very quickly, and managed to not have an accident, for nearly 47 years-and then, only because someone tampered with the brakes of my car. As for my work at Star, I was diligent, but also maddeningly slow in going about my work. It would have helped, had I listened to my supervisors, but the 16-year-old Gary was not so ready to do that.

The first part of my Senior year saw a budding interest in writing gain support from our English teacher, Mrs. Vande. That course was probably one of the most rewarding classes I’ve had. It’s largely why I am here now. Mr. Quinlan took us through Algebra II. I had two history classes: Latin American History, very rewarding and Asian History, which was fascinating, but for the incompetence of the teacher, proved annoying. Business Law, taught by our then-State Representative, was one of the most useful classes I’ve ever had. Coach Wall and Mr. Bly are two of the reasons I’ve kept out of trouble. Bob Powers, at Star Market, would have been a third, had I listened to the poor man.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 22

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, Education, Family, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Striving

July 13, 2026- When Aram is interrupted, while saying something he deems important, he will raise his voice and slow his cadence. He makes sure than he finishes what he has to say. Hana showed the same assertiveness, this morning. When she was talking, after having had a mildly hard adjustment to a new form of medication, I began to re-assure her that all was well. She wasn’t finished, and raised her voice to complete her vocal thought.

I’m proud of her for stepping up so early in life. Her sounds have a cadence to them that indicate clear thought, and they are interspersed with English and Korean words that fit the context of the situation. She was quite clearly processing her feelings about her experience.

As the day wore on, she was very much irritated with her slowly emerging top incisors. I can see them poking through the inside of her gums. There is no wondrous magic that helps a child deal with teething- from the first incisors to the misnamed “Wisdom Teeth”, of early adolescence. Only love and patience see us all through.

I left this evening, to help co-ordinate a Baha’i Spiritual Feast. When I got back, Aram and Yunhee said Hana had gone to sleep with only a minimum of fuss.She must have run out of steam. During the day, she is quite loud, when speaking, seemingly about a variety of subjects. I look forward to her “discourses” on whatever comes into her mind.

HANA’S NOTE- I have seen my Daddy insist on being able to finish his sentences. I am going to do the same. I think a lot about things and my thoughts can be put into words-even if grown-ups think I’m just babbling.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-1965 This was the year I really started to build up my LP collection. I had a cheap record player, that I kept for ten years. I even brought the machine to college-where it was jokingly known to everyone in my dorm as “The Set”. I didn’t care; the old device fit my needs. It played all my LPs., from The Beatles and Stones to Andy Williams and Neil Diamond. It, along with my transistor radio. was my ticket to another world.

I got through every class in my Freshman year, except Algebra I. It would take me two more tries to pass the subject- my Sophomore regular year and Summer School, thereafter. Mr, John Quinlan finally made the light shine-and I moved up the math ladder.

My Sophomore Year’s teachers were a significant improvement over the Grade 9 crew. Biology, English Grammar and World History all were crystal clear. I still write under Miss Kochakian’s rules of punctuation and style. French, under Mme. Jeanne Gorton, was all the more so. The damage done by her predecessor was largely cleared up, with Madame Gorton’s Parisian flair and discipline. Algebra I remained a cipher, until Mr. Quinlan tied everything together, the following summer.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 20

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, service, Social, Striving

July 11, 2026- Hana was in her glory, this morning, as she had her Mommy to herself. She delights in my presence, yet, as one might expect, Mother is supreme. While they played and Yunhee fed her lunch, I went on a few errands-at Plano Farmers Market and H.E.B. Gas is a bit cheaper at the latter place than anywhere other than Costco-which is on the southwest end of town. My errands were on the northwest. I got lobster rolls for the three of us adults, as there was a food truck out of Dallas that offered wild-caught lobster, from the Gulf of Maine. That is a once-in-a great-while treat, as you might imagine.

Once back, I played with Hana for a while, showing her again about sitting with both buttocks on the floor. She managed to do that, for several seconds, and began to hop a bit. During the course of the day, and for the past few days, Hana has been vocalizing a lot more also. The cadence of her sounds suggests a message, an urgency, that is also reflected in her face. When we appear to understand that she is serious about the matter, she is pleased and we go through the anticipated needs she may have-food, milk, a clean diaper, exercise-or just someone to be with her. My granddaughter is a social being, much like her father and grandmother.

HANA’S NOTE- Of all the stories that Papa reads me, I like the princess stories the best, especially if the girls have to actually do something. I won’t be a lazy girl. That would be boring.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE, 1963- The first half of this year was not at all bad. I had a generally good experience in the rest of Grade 7. We spent a lot of time at the ocean (Lynn Beach) and at a pond (Breakheart). I had a good summer with the Boy Scouts also-a fair amount of camping. I left, though, at the end of summer-feeling hamstrung by my poor swimming ability. Aquatic skills are required for higher ranks in the Scouts.

Eighth Grade, though, brought hardship. A few bullies made a big deal about my autism, which was not really yet a diagnosed thing back then. I was just “weird”, in their view. I managed to do fairly well, academically, except for Math, where we were set to learn the binary system. The first quarter was terrible,but with tutoring from a next door neighbour, I made it back to ‘B’s and C’s’, the rest of the year. The Math teacher backed me up, when I stood up to the bullies. After that, things were okay for me, personally. For the school as a whole, though, it was one disaster after another. Someone set the old Junior High on fire. It burned to the ground, for the most part, leaving only a small section-which was renovated and became an elementary school. We were sent to the East Wing of the High School. There, we did double sessions, sharing with the freshman high school students. We went during the morning and the 9th graders went in the afternoon. The East Wing would itself later be destroyed by arson. While we were still there, though, President John F. Kennedy was shot and killed in Dallas, TX, by a still indeterminate number of shooters. I have, on balance, a sad remembrance of 1963.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 19

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Historical, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Striving

July 10, 2026- Today was the Commemoration of the Martyrdom of al-Bab, a Baha’i Holy Day. On this day, in 1850, al-Bab, the Herald of the Baha’i Dispensation, was executed by firing squad, along with a personal assistant. Baha’is generally gather to say prayers and readings associated with al-Bab, Whose name means “The Gate”, in English. His Teachings were the gate to understanding those of Baha’ullah, Who came after Him.

As Hana is too young to attend such events, I said my own Tablet of Visitation here at the house. Hana sat in the playpen, right in front of me, and listened quietly as I prayed. She does the same when I say my daily morning prayers, each day. I sense that this practice is having an orienting influence on her.

This evening, Yunhee remarked that Hana is much more composed now. She sleeps through the night and only gets irritable when she is hungry. While Yunhee is at work, Hana and I have the feeding routine pretty much down. If she is napping before her medication, she wakes herself on time to receive it. Her lunch meal and bottle feeding are on schedule, as she is awake then and happily watches me prepare the items. I also have her watch me prepare the mid-afternoo0n bottle. After Yunhee gives her the evening feeding, she is ready for a good night’s sleep.

HANA’S NOTE- Papa and I watched some workers take our old sidewalk from in front of the house. Papa says they will put a new one in, next week. Since we also saw them putting in new sidewalks at the end of the street, I know he’s right.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE- 1962 It was a year of transition. I finished Grade 6. Boys began teasing one another about things of which I had no idea. One of the “faster” kids in my neighbourhood noticed my naivete and talked to me about some of it. My father also gave me “The Talk”, before I entered Grade 7.

I had my share of friends in my immediate neighbourhood. Eddie and Allan were the closest, of the boys. After Ellen moved, I would go by her old house and hang out with the Geotis kids, whose father let me stomp grapes for his homemade wine. I got a glass or two of grape juice, that their mother set aside from the batch that was to be fermented. A group of us boys played touch football, in the middle of the street. Some men driving home from work would go around us. Others demanded we stop and make a hole for them. I was probably the worst of the players, but some of the boys felt it was a good thing to include even a klutz like me.

Grade 7, Junior High School, brought the concept of rotating between classes. I had a good Math teacher, Mr. Anzalone, a large man with a booming voice and quick temper, who also had a keen sense of humour and a heart of gold. My Social Studies and Science teachers were also competent. Mr. Anzalone talked with us about current affairs, during our home room time. This was the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and President Kennedy took a firm stance with the Soviet Union. We froze our missiles in Turkey and they, their missiles in Cuba. Thus, did cool heads walk back from the brink of nuclear war.