Category Archives: Assistance

Eastbound and Back, Day 10 : The Healed Bird Takes Flight

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

May 8, 2024, Whycocomagh, Nova Scotia- As I look out the window on Lake Bras d’Or, a small glass cardinal hangs from a suction cup. The message has come from Arizona, her suffering is at an end. Book Lady has closed this long chapter in her own life story, and taken flight to the Eternal Realm. Marcia Turner Brehmer served our Lord, day and night, for over fifty years. She was as one of the older sisters I never had, and helped me keep things in perspective, when my beloved wife passed, in 2011. She met, and married Carl, about forty two years ago, a marvel, in that they came from places at the opposite ends of the nation’s midsection, almost a beeline apart: She, from Brownsville, Texas and he, from outside Pembina, North Dakota. He is a consummate, multi-talented musician. She was a soulful poet and crafts person. In the weeks and months ahead, I will keep her, Carl and their family, in prayer, knowing that she will be watching over us all, with fortitude and diligence, the way she lived this life.

Marcia brought dignity to any gathering, and served to remind us to never, once, ignore the least among us. She was equally at home in the simplest of dwellings, in the most opulent of mansions and in the majestic Houses of Worship she and Carl visited in Wilmette, in Panama City and in Sydney. Together, they brought joy to countless gatherings, and hosted so many more, at their home in Chino Valley. Both the promulgation of the Baha’i Teachings and standing for the rights of women and girls took Marcia’s full attention. She and Carl raised their two children with love and patience, extending that love and patience to their granddaughter. Three strong adults stand as testimony to their efforts.

Marcia also never let herself be limited by physical restraints, from serving God and humanity. As she said to me recently, some go on journeys of the body; others go on journeys of the mind. Her mind went to places of beauty that the rest of us can only dimly imagine. May her spirit long watch over us, and shower her loved ones with blessings.

Eastbound and Back, Day 8: The Coast Cleared

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, Historical, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 6, 2024, Calais, ME- At the roundabout, turning off towards Boothbay Harbor, I found myself waiting for a street sweeper in what was little more than a Bobcat, heading across the first exit and headed southbound, which I was also doing. Fortunately, he next turned right, towards the Post Office, and I was on track to be punctual.

I got to the rendezvous point that I thought was right-Dunkin’Donuts, on the south end of Wells. Turns out, there is another Dunkin’, more in the center of town. The still-recognizable figure from my childhood got my text and came to where I was, three minutes later.


The clouds that had hung on earlier started clearing, as we bantered for the next ninety minutes, giving a good many caffeinating residents of Wells and environs a bit more about growing up in Saugus, in the ’50s and ’60s than they may have ever anticipated. A Frenchman and an Italian get going on stuff from the past, and who knows what will be divulged. I may stop on the way back, and catch his piano magic.

Catharsis just happens, though both of us did our best to not give TMI. It was time to move on, around 11, which gave me just enough time to go up the coast towards Boothbay Harbor, where a cousin and his wife were waiting for our annual, or biennial, meeting. Stopping at Wilbur’s of Maine, for gift items, took five minutes and the minor wait for the street sweeper took another five. I was at their house at exactly 11 a.m. Why that is suddenly so important, as I write this, is a mystery. Maybe I am just compensating for some time in the distant past, when I let people down, due to dawdling. At any rate, it didn’t matter at all to my hosts. Our conversation, over lunch, was centered on our Irish paternal great-grandmother’s proactivity, in purchasing what would become the Boivin family home, for over 100 years. So many gatherings took place, in the three storeys of that house, in the backyard, up the street at another aunt & uncle’s house and two blocks north, at another uncle & aunt’s house. Then, there were the pool tournaments, at Frank’s Bar & Grill, across the main street from Perley.

I left the cousins behind, with a promise to return, later this month. The sky was alternately foggy (inland) and clear (along the coast). I found relatively scant traffic, which was not surprising as it’s still fairly early in May. Many cabins and seasonal restaurants are still closed, awaiting Memorial Day. It also being a Monday, several others were taking their weekly day off. Joe’s Diner, just shy of the Canadian border, was open, for a modest plate of spaghetti, and a generous helping of meatballs. International Motel, a riverside establishment, has provided me with another comfortable place for a fine night’s rest.

Tomorrow will see a return visit to the Gallant family’s North American entry point: Shediac, NB. It was there that my paternal grandmother’s father’s forebears brought their roofing skills to bear among the Basque and Breton fisherfolk of 17th Century New Brunswick.

Eastward Bound and Back, Day 6: Tenuous

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 4, 2024, Wakefield, MA- Mom is in stable condition, though her speech is slower. She still has a firm grip and was glad to see me standing at her side, in the dining room of her upstairs wing. My brother and sister-in-law came in, after a bit, and we whiled away the afternoon, watching a golf tournament-still among her favourites.

Driving out from Shelburne Falls reminded me of the drive that I made, between Amherst and Saugus, in my university days. It also, towards its mid-section, reminded me of the days when we would bundle into the car and go furniture shopping, in the small town of Templeton- a premier place for home furnishings, even today. We would invariably end up at Twin Tree Cafe, a family restaurant, owned by “Uncle” Pete Carbone, in Maynard, about forty minutes further east. The Concord Rotary, which used to be a typical Northeast free-for-all, is now regulated with YIELD signs, that temper impatient Massachusetts drivers, somewhat. I didn’t hear a honked horn behind me, until much later today-but that’s a minor detail. The drive up I-95, with moderate slowing at the major interchanges, was not bad at all.

I was glad to get together, this evening, with my siblings and two of their spouses- along with a nephew whom I hadn’t seen in six years. This was a night for a fried clam & onion rings fix, which happens once or twice a year, at best, and can only be done properly in New England-just as crab cakes are best enjoyed in the Chesapeake region, or salmon is best, when in the Northwest. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Our banter this evening reminded me that next to oneself, a person’s harshest critics can be siblings-but so are one’s strongest supporters. It all boils down to the level of caring-which cuts both ways, and is never tenuous, no matter how fleeting our presence is in one another’s lives. As Mom remains on a comfortable plateau, we will take our turns, holding her hands and assuaging her fears, as best we can. In the end, we will honour her by staying close.

Eastbound and Back, Day 5: Adventures in a State of Flux

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 3, 2024, Shelburne Falls, MA- Three of us wound up and down the curves and dips of State Highway 2, going along the slopes of Mount Greylock, this state’s highest peak, and its neighbouring ridges. I once hiked up the mountain, and camped there overnight, waking to the cheerful sound of four prom-goers, on the morning after their big event. The kids from nearby Poesten Kill, NY, were curious about my experiences-the girls wondering why I was up there alone. Why was I shy? Where was my girfriend? (I had no one in my life, at that moment, in 1975.) Such is the exuberance of people in the bubble of one of the finest times in anyone’s life: The senior year of high school.

The lead vehicle’s driver chose to keep us other two drivers set at 25-40 mph, fine for the bulk of the drive’s curves and double-yellow lines, at least for me. The guy in the middle, though, had enough of the double yellow, and of the lead driver’s caution, and so pulled out and around, double yellow be durned. It was not his time to go, fortunately, and since it definitely was not my time, either, I stayed behind the lead driver-until I came upon Red Rose Motel, here in this lovely little village, in the Berkshires, north of Amherst. By this time, another antsy driver was behind me, following a tad too close, but as luck would have it, there was a large pull-off area, half a mile further, where I was able to ditch the tailgater, and make a U-turn, getting back to this quiet haven.

My principle concern, for the past week, has been the state of my mother’s health. She is stable, mind you, and will hopefully be in good spirits, when at least two of her four children are in her room, tomorrow afternoon, and a good part of Sunday. What happens next week will depend entirely on what I find, when I get to her side. There is, at present, a Plan A, largely already scheduled, that will take me up through Maine and New Brunswick, to the Eskasoni area of Cape Breton and on to Newfoundland/St. Pierre & Miquelon, for two weeks or so, but we’ll see what lies in store.

Today was a rather quiet drive, lovely but uneventful. It was an introduction to the windingness of the upper Susquehanna, from Lock Haven, PA to the Chemung region of New York’s Southern Tier. There is much beauty on both sides of the bi-state area, but as I have hinted earlier, this is not a photo-intensive experience, unless and until I get up to Canada. There were few stops today. After leaving the Motel 6, in Clarion, a small snack stop at a Sheetz, in Mansfield, PA and a couple of rest areas along the Southern Tier were my only breaks. Plaza Diner, a pleasant little establishment, on the east side of Oneonta, was my dinner break-with two tasty, ample crab cakes and a full plate from the salad bar, accompanied by creamy but nondescript macaroni and cheese. The place was convivial, and I would stop there again, if I find myself in Oneonta. Albany and Troy, further along were both bustling and lively, on the Friday night, but I kept going. It seems that, with colleges and universities prepping for graduation, there was no room at the inns. (Once I got here, to Red Rose, my host, Aldo, said it was like that all over Amherst, as well. I got a nice room, at a discounted rate, so no matter.)

It will be good to be back with family for a bit, no matter the circumstances. Mother has raised and treated us well.

Eastbound and Back, Day 4: Making the Time

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 2, 2024, Clarion, PA- The housekeeper rapped on the door, ever so lightly. “Mister, it is time. You must check out!” Yes, it was indeed 11 a.m., and she probably had fifteen rooms to clean, in four hours, or something along those lines. I did want to get going, as well, so the last post I was writing, before this one, was set aside, until I could get to a coffee house, in downtown Goshen, and everything was put carefully in the right bags and brought to Sportage- in three minutes’ time. The Super 8 was in good repair and she gave me a clean room, last night, so I’ll not quibble.

As I drove along Main Street, Goshen, looking for a parking spot-Voila, there it was, on the other side of the street-and right in front of the recommended coffee house. As I signaled a left turn, into the space went the oncoming vehicle. Hmmm- no sense getting annoyed, so I turned left onto the next side street-and, there was Electric Brew, which bills itself as “Goshen’s original coffee house”. I found a spot, right in front of it, so grace given was grace returned. I don’t know about the other place, but Electric Brew is an excellent coffee house/deli, with a most congenial and helpful team of baristas and servers. I was able to easily finish and post about the Twelfth Day of Ridvan.

The day continued, into and across Ohio, with plenty of opportunities to make people feel seen and heard. Mostly, it was a matter of holding doors open for those coming through, or coming in behind me. I thrive on not being anonymous or invisible, so I am sure other people are largely the same.

There wasn’t much else going on, in this very familiar portion of the trip, but I changed the route just a little-going on I-80, in stead of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. That led me to another Motel 6, this one a bit more upscale, in amenities, though not in price. I had the pleasure of dining at Cozumel Authentic Mexican Restaurant-and found it as good as many such places in the Southwest. It isn’t often that Motel 6 even has an eatery in the same building-but there we are. The room I scored is huge-spare, but with a fine bed, and HUGE.

I find it always pays to make the time for doing things carefully-big or small.

Eastbound and Back, Day 3: “When the Stars Begin to Fall”

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, service, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 1, 2024, Goshen, IN- With those words, from the immortal gospel song, George, the Director of the Welcome Center at the Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, Illinois sent our spirits soaring. What a glorious morning it had already been, on as afternoon progressed, I was delighted to join the the celebration of the Twelfth Day of Ridvan, commemorating the day, in 1863m when Baha’u’llah and His entourage left the Garden of Ridvan, outside Baghdad, and began the long journey to what is now Istanbul.

I was a bit under-dressed for this occasion, yet the message on my tee was proper: “Created noble”. We all are, don’t you know. I was honoured to be able to convey gratitude to George, after the ceremony, as refreshments were served in Foundation Hall, under the glorious auditorium, where prayers are said aloud on special occasions, such as this, but are mostly offered in silence, by members of all Faiths- and positive thoughts by those of no Faith. I was delighted as well to meet, in person, the distinguished long-time Choral Director of the House, Van Gilmer, whose music has enkindled so many of our spirits, over the past five decades.

This is a phone camera-only journey, my digital camera being given a rest, in advance of a heavy schedule, the rest of this year. So, here are a few scenes of the “Mother Temple of the West”, as ‘Abdu’l-Baha described it, accompanied by scenes of Wilmette’s majestic Gillson Park, which neighbours the House grounds, and of beloved Lake Michigan.

Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL

Lilacs in bloom, west garden of the Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL

Wallace Bowl, the amphitheater of Gillson Parl, Wilmette

Lake Michigan, from Gillson Park.

The Baha’i House of Worship, from Wilmette Harbor

So proceeded a glorious day. I felt a bit of disconnect, between my physical state and consciousness- though thankfully not quite on the order described by the author. Salman Rushdie, following his having been attacked by a young man during a ceremony he was attending, a few years back. I felt, all day, as if I was moving in a different realm, while being fully aware of, and connected with, those around me.

Nonetheless, I was able to render some service, during the visit, to guests who were at the Temple for the first time, and to convey thanks and appreciation to George and Van, for the excellent program. After leaving the sacred site, I found traffic along I-94 southbound, relatively light. It took about 45 minutes to get from the Dempster turnoff to the Ohio Street exit. After the I-55 interchange, things lightened up even more and there was virtually no one using the Skyway.

It was a tired, but happy, Schroeder family who greeted me for a short dinner respite and some catching up, from my last visit. Things were bustling and chaotic, for Val and Sparky, so I did not stay long, once dinner was done. I was also dragging a bit, by then, so the choice was made to settle into the Super 8, in this fine community, about an hour southeast of Mishawaka. Other friends here are also indisposed, so it will be on to Ohio and Pennsylvania, tomorrow afternoon. I am sorry to have to pass up Indianapolis this time, as well, yet it is critical to be where Mom is, by Saturday.

Let’s close, for now, with this rendition of “When The Stars Begin to Fall”, by the ’60s inspirational group, The Seekers.

The Myth of Finality

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 28, 2024, Gallup- As I was walking to breakfast, at Post 6, this morning, one of the dogs who customarily run up to their owners’ fence and barks his head off, was true to form. A raven began flying in circles, above the dog, and cawed loudly, mimicking the dog’s bark. Animals can hassle each other like that.

So, too, do we humans seem to think it is our due, to hassle one another. I give you the current version of “Forward, into the past!”-Right-wing students, mixing with peaceful protesters and yelling for a renewal of “The Final Solution”. There is no real concern about the Palestinians who have suffered, no desire to see justice for Gaza, just a re-hash of Nazi propaganda-blaming Jews in this country and around the world for the destruction that has come from two groups of extremists fighting one another. Palestinians, in Gaza, have asked that the hatred against ordinary Jews be stopped. It is, they note, not helping their search for justice.

I have relatives who are at least a quarter, or half, and in a few cases full-blooded Jewish. I have many more, both Arab and Jew, who I count as friends. None of them hate the others. Growing up, my parents counted both Arabs and Jews as friends. It is thus second nature.

In Creation, there is no permission given by the Divine, for one group of people to slaughter another. The deluded young man who called for the deaths of all Jews can quote Mein Kampf all he wants, but if he follows through, he deserves full punishment, under the law. I say the same applies to anyone calling for the deaths of all Arabs. Enough is enough! If someone, or a group, attacks a Jew, or an Arab, in my presence, I will stand for the intended victim-nonviolently, mind you, but I will stand in defense of the one being attacked.

Today is the anniversary of Baha’u’llah’s Declaration of His Mission, to unite mankind, both spiritually and materially. We Baha’is celebrated, worldwide. There are fellows in Faith who are of Jewish descent, as Penny was and there are fellows in Faith who are of Arab descent-in fact, there are Baha’is in virtually every ethnicity, across the planet. We stand for the oneness of mankind. There is no room for anyone to act on genocidal thoughts, of any kind. There is no such “final solution”.

In a few days, I will be at the Baha’i House of Worship, in Wilmette, Illinois, north of Chicago. I try to visit there, each time I head east, for family visits. The magnificent Temple helps me ground self spiritually. This time, I hope to see both Jewish and Arabic visitors, among the multitude that is there, on any given day.

The only finality should be love.

Dharma Sunset

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

April 27, 2024, Paulden, AZ- “You’re spirit IS you!”, the 5-year-old boy opined, as we were talking about whether we lived forever. I had just noted that my body would be gone some day, but my spirit would live on. His reply showed that he already knew that we would continue to live on.

He has named himself Sunset, and his parents are going with it. Their overarching concern is that each of their five children, and possibly a sixth, will grow to their maximum potential and on each child’s own terms. So far, what I have seen is an amazing group of strong humans, loving and nurturing with one another-and learning from their mistakes, without accumulating baggage.

It had been three years since I last visited the little bit of heaven that its residents call Dharma Farm. Most of my absence had more to do with scheduling-mine and the family’s. Tonight, though, we were in sync, the older girls preparing a simple meal and the younger siblings, including Sunset, enjoying the two exercise balls which I have given the family, rather than have the balls just sit in my bedroom and be used infrequently. I walked around the farm with the father, noting changes he and his wife have made on the property, since my last visit. Several more trees have been planted and are thriving. A couple of buildings, including a greenhouse, have been added. So, too, has a lonely young girl come to be a regular part of the family and two other, wonderful women and their children settled in.

The place continues to be a haven-and another woman, earlier today, at a different location, musing about how delightful it was to see happy children, would have been thrilled to have been here. The secret to all this is that the couple is committed to both raising their children holistically and teaching thriving skills (on a permaculture model) at the local community school, as well as in a home schooling co-operative.

Sunset will continue to burn brightly, and so will the rest of his family. Below, are two scenes of his inspiration.

I won’t be absent from here for quite so long, going forward.

Diligencia

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving

April 25, 2024- The rain came down in buckets, ending three weeks of dryness and keeping the fire danger down for another month or so. I had a room full of Kindergarten English-language learners, who noted that it was raining-again (“Otra vez”) and they hadn’t been out all day. They continued to work on their foldable stories, we read them, they highlighted their sight words, the first letter of each sentence and the punctuation mark at the end of each sentence-and then we played. They built little “forts”, by moving chairs and cushion pillows, while a timer counted down. When the time ran out, the screen said “Poof”, and the hamburger on the screen disappeared. Then the kids did-actually, just going back to their classrooms, after putting everything back.

The others, first and second graders, were equally diligent. Even those, especially those, who had minimal competency in English, applied themselves to their tasks with a drive that people in high school would do well to emulate. They let no time elapse, when finished with one task, before asking what was next, and diving right into it.

That made me think. What happens in the lives of children to turn a hard worker into a dodger, a slacker? Some who go through a slacking phase, and then get their bearings and turn into productive adults, can say it was due to the adults in their lives being alternately overbearing and overindulgent. Others gave in to peer pressure, and others were just testing the limits. In the end, though, those who’ve turned themselves around have looked back at the real “good old days”, when their classmates and they were getting satisfaction from learning, going home to parents who were genuinely proud of their achievements.

The fog of insolence can sink in as early as 7-years of age (I saw one, a scowl on his face, as he waited for his teacher to open the classroom door, while my students and I were walking towards the ELL room). It will likely take a lot of diligence, on the part of educators and social service professionals, to turn his life around. Such a shame. The high achievers will walk on past him, but the smartest among them will stop, turn around and hold out a caring and insistent hand.

Viva diligencia!

Nonstop Talking

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, impediments, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving

April 24, 2024- I asked myself, how long would I last, as a nonstop talker, before someone broke out the duct tape-or everyone just up and left, even if-especially if- I was in the middle of my 286th sentence.

Then I began to think about how I am, myself, towards nonstop talkers. If they are children in a class, I appeal to the their recognition “that there is an agenda, set by the regular teacher, who has to honour the hierarchy from the State Legislature to the State Superintendent to the County Superintendent to the District Governing Board to the District Superintendent-to…” until a bright shining face offers….”Now who’s the nonstop talker?”

If the nonstop talker is a shut-in, chances are the monologues will be looped, and I will be able to repeat them, verbatim, after about a month of visits. I will still visit, though, and still listen, because this could be me one day. Besides, when every day sounds the same, it’s partly because every day is the same.

If the motormouth has encyclopedic knowledge of ten different subjects, I will want to be seen and not heard, because there are significant gaps in anyone’s knowledge, and we need to check-in with each other, and the nonstop thinker who can put thoughts into words deserves a full platform.

These thoughts came to mind, this evening, as I witnessed nonstop talkers, talking over one another. Thankfully, they each came to a happy medium and let each other have the dais, for a few minutes at a time. I would not do well, as a nonstop talker.