“You’ll Understand Some Day”

2

July 12, 2024, Beatty, NV- So did the attendant, at a convenience market in the small Mohave Desert town of Dolan Springs, explain a decision she had made to a much younger woman. Since I am inclined to wish long and happy lives to just about anyone I meet, I silently concurred. Mom always answered my chortles at one or another of her predicaments by singing “Your day will come“.

After a morning of home base activities, whilst waiting for the final word on a possible shelter, I prepared for Trip # 3, of 2024. Right at Noon, the shelter was deemed unnecessary, and by 1 p.m., I set out. Six hours later, after pit stops in Seligman, Dolan Springs, Las Vegas and Amargosa, I stopped here, so as to join a Baha’i Zoom call. It was plenty to drive here, in heat that ranged between 95-118 (35-47.77) degrees. My AC worked its magic and I was fine, so long as I kept pushing water down my gullet.

All along the drive, I contemplated the when of letting go- of power, of control, of position. This is not an issue for me, personally, but it seems much of the leadership of our governmental, financial and social institutions is unable to pass the baton. I have been ecstatic when a younger person shows up and is ready to take up the mantle of whatever mission I have had in front of me. I will always be willing to lend a hand, but being in charge is a bonus, not a craving.

Perhaps some of the younger ones will experience a strong urge to hold on, overstaying their welcome and even outliving their usefulness. Should that happen, I offer this, right here, right now. “May your time in the limelight impart lessons and knowledge that serve you well-and may those be of the sort that can be shared with the younger generations of YOUR seniorhood. May you remember these days, and know when to take the position of being ONE among many, of a number of generations who work together.”

I will spend much of the weekend with one of my favourite families, with 5 or 6 bright, engaging children, and their loving parent and grandparents. There is no overbearing or insecure adult there, at least not when it comes to the children’s upbringing.

Those who have tried are relegated to the periphery of the children’s lives. May they understand, some day.

Frenzy All Around

0

July 10, 2024- In the span of fifteen minutes, the skies opened up, thunder and lightning were all about, cars were coming out of every side street and driveway, and I got a phone call from someone who was at wit’s end about a conflict.

I pulled into the driveway at Home Base, with caller still needing my attention, as I juggled key, coffee cup and phone. Why didn’t I just hang up? Caller said no one else was willing to listen to him and several were avoiding his calls. Somehow, we were disconnected anyway and I was able to take care of more urgent business. I called him back and reached a point of closure, at least for the time being.

There are frequent spates of frenetic activity. Maybe it’s something in the air. Maybe, as my brother says about dreams, it’s the altitude-but that doesn’t explain frenzy, or fever dream, in places like Phoenix, New Orleans, or Bombay Beach, CA. I do think that it has to do with electricity in the atmosphere. We’re certainly not close enough to the full moon, at least not for another ten days.

The day didn’t start off in frenetic fashion, nor is it ending that way. The campers were in no hurry to leave, and so departed an hour later than their schedule said. I couldn’t blame them: 118 (47.8) in Phoenix makes 88 degrees (31.1) in Bellemont feel like the beach in Bermuda. Even after I left, so as to meet an appointment in Prescott, they were still at the truck stop, when I stopped to fuel up with gasoline.

We got a preliminary notice about a possible shelter being needed, tomorrow, in a town an hour west of here. I could help tomorrow night, and if it gets to be a major event, then the trip Northwest will be delayed. As I write this, though, the fire is being “monitored” and no shelter is being set up, yet. We will know more in the morning.

The day included a drowned yellow jacket, examining samples for which colour to use in an exterior paint job, getting the camp facility semi-closed, reconciling my chiropractic schedule with summer and fall travel, and assuaging the anxiety of the above-mentioned caller, a friend of ten years. Through it all, I did not personally feel frenzied. That’s progress.

The Marvels

2

July 7, 2024, Bellemont- Three people stood outside an RV, at the Pilot Truck Stop. One held a sign that said “Out of gas”. Various people were handing them money, as I passed by, going to the roundabout. I trade in commodities, not cash, and so gladly filled their gas can and wished them a better day.

I am sitting on an Internet connection that says it has NO Internet access. I am feeling plenty of energy, even though yesterday I flew across the country, then took a 2 1/2 hour bus ride, in the heat. We had a nice day with the ten middle-age school campers and six youth who are mentoring them. The kids are engaging and just glad that people care enough to spend a small part of their summer teaching them of social skills and the moral compass.

It was a pleasant trip from Prescott, made more so by a stop at Brewed Awakenings, my favourite establishment in Williams. Though I no longer need coffee to get me started in the morning, it does go nicely with breakfast or brunch, which I enjoyed this morning. Once having paid it forward, at the truck stop, I found myself getting to camp, at the same time as the two vans full of campers and gear.

Orientation was swiftly done; I received condolences, on the loss of my mother, from the cook and two of the mentors, and we each did our little activities, mostly indoors due to the heat. I have been advised that my hydration level needs to be increased even more than it has been, and this heat means my water intake will need to be triple what it was a few months ago.

Marvels are still unexpected and uplifting events, whether great or small, and have little to do with the comic book and action film characters who have been given that collective name. I expect that the next 2 1/2 days will see their share of the unexpected and uplifting.

Darlings

4

July 6, 2024- A fire closed the highway between here and Phoenix, so the shuttle driver took a more circuitous route, still getting us back here in very decent time. I was able to join a snap meeting on Zoom, to tend to a small, but essential, piece of business. All is now well, at the end of a hard, but essential, journey to say farewell to the woman who gave me life. Her photographs, interspersed throughout this modest Home Base, and all those memories of the past seven decades, keep my mother “ever gentle on my mind.”

Four of my darlings have now gone on-Mom, Penny, and my two grandmothers. They themselves are surrounded by those who loved them dearly, and many who loved me as well. All of my aunts, uncles, in-laws and several cousins are in the spirit vanguard that keeps us safe here, in this mortal frame. So are my grandfathers, one of whom I am said to resemble. Though he was long dead, when I arrived, I have thought of him often, over the years and feel a strong connection.

Many darlings remain-Kathy, my nieces and grandnieces, sister, daughter-in-law, sisters-in-law, aunts, and all manner of friends, here in Arizona and across this wide world. It’s different with the men and boys- I love them dearly as well, but the women and girls reflect everything that my dear mother gave to each of her five children. She called it “smotherly love”, and at times it felt rather heavy, but I know just how deeply a mother-child connection is, having watched Penny, from that day 36 years ago, tomorrow, until the moment of her death. Fathers guide, nurture and support their children, but sometimes we get so caught up in our roles as providers, that the emotional aspect of life gets short shrift. Mothers, with few exceptions, never waver in that regard.

Mom always knew how I was, no matter how hard I tried to keep a brave face. Darlings never let their darlings down.

One More Waltz to Paradise

3

July 3, 2024, Woburn, MA- So now, we are orphans. The powerful and beautiful matriarch has gone home to her Lord.

Yesterday, the young man was full of himself. Today, he was crestfallen and needed us all to help him deal with the loss of his beloved grandmother. So it was done. That is the nature of any set of random unpleasantries that take place between people who love one another, in their inmost hearts.

Mom lay in repose, and each of us had our time to say our last farewells. Mine was focused on just how powerfully she drew forth the best aspects of my character, and made of them the engine that has kept me going. We four siblings and, by extension, our children and grandchildren are each that much the better for her long and exemplary life. In the end, she looked as elegant and beautiful as she had at any time in her nearly ninety-six years.

Well over a hundred people filled the event room, at the funeral home-and about 3/4 of them continued on to the interment at cemetery, as well to as the funereal meal. The four of us mingled as best we could, with it being a rare opportunity to catch up with relatives and former neighbours we had not seen in decades. In that sense, Mom wove her last magic. Such occasions are in that sense magical, and reassuring.

Mom’s centering principle was that each of us do the very best we can, in any endeavour-big or small. Making the bed was as important as giving a speech. Washing the dishes properly deserved the same attention as delivering up a quality piece of homework. Her send-off reflected that: My sister’s attention to detail made everything click, as Mom would have wanted. My youngest niece created an exquisite audiovisual collage of Mom’s life, which circulated around the lounge at Polcari’s Restaurant, as we enjoyed light desserts after the ample buffet.

I offer two songs, in gratitude, “Until we meet again”.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGWs1HK8iDU

The Eternal Tie

10

June 30, 2024, Bedford, MA- Penny passed on a Saturday morning. She was laid to rest, the following Wednesday. Mother passed on Sunday evening, and will be laid to rest, this coming Wednesday. Thus have the most important women in my life, up to now, cemented their eternal tie.

Mom told me, in a silent message, that today would be her last day with us. It came right after a noisy little bird sat squawking, right outside my motel room door. I spent much of today sitting at her side, holding her hand and keeping watch on on her right side, while my sister-in-law did the same on her left. We kibbitized about one thing or another, as Mom kept on with her silent ascent into the Realm of Glory. Her breaths were increasingly softer and shorter. Her throat began gurgling, which I learned is a telltale sign of approaching transition. After seven hours of this, she took her final breaths, one heavy and one light. It was 6:48 p.m., and the pronouncement of death took place at 7:47-a fitting symbolism, if you will.

We, the group of four, will now have the leadership role for our ten children and nineteen grandchildren. We will proceed with the eternal tie that Mom and Dad established for us.

Let no one rend it asunder.

Defender

0

June 28, 2024, Bedford, MA- The little boy was only four, but still got in front of someone he thought was bothering his mother, and stood with fists clenched-size differential between him and the perceived threat be darned. His mom moved him out of harm’s way and took care of matters, herself.

Today, I was that little boy, all over again, holding Mom, ready to defend her-against any suffering she might still be feeling. Now, there is little, or none. She still draws breath, and is semi-warm to the touch. Her heart, lungs and brain are still doing their basic work. This didn’t stop me from wanting to protect her-though from God knows what.

I felt the uncertainty, driving back from Lynnfield, this evening. Family members sensed this and engaged in text message levity, which helped soothe any of my own feelings of dread. I also told myself that, whilst on the road, my ancillary mission is to be part of a safe network of motorists. Other drivers are my family, between any two points. The mother and baby sitting on the curb, at Bedford Motel’s driveway, are family. The joggers running on the side of the road, going both for and against traffic, are family. So, too, are the construction workers, the semi-truck driver trying to pass everyone on the inside and the half-crazed person with the crazy hair, tail-gating me on a number of side streets. Most of the rest of the motoring public are like distant, but still significant, cousins.

Mostly, though, I will be told that my main job is to protect myself. So I will-that I may complete this present mission, to finish honouring my mother; that I may manage the four-day camp, after my return to Arizona; that I may fulfill a pledge to visit several Baha’is from Carson City to Vancouver Island and mainland British Columbia-with several people in Oregon, Washington and Idaho, in between; that I may also make good on my promise to return to the Philippines, this Fall.

That little boy will always love and defend his mother, by living up to what she taught.

Anticipatory Memories-II

7

June 21, 2024- All of my arrangements are now in place, for what may well be my last visit with Mom, on this Earth. I will fly to Boston, stay at a motel in Bedford, driving from the airport to the motel and to wherever I need to be, the following four days- Lynnfield, Saugus, and any number of surrounding towns where friends and family may want to gather. I will either fly back to Phoenix, on July 1, or adjust my plans as Mom needs me to.

Her macaroni and cheese, baked haddock, meatloaf, lasagna, velvet crumb cake, tomato soup cake, toll house cookies, cinnamon rolls-all are embedded in my culinary treasure chest. Even her salmon casserole, an acquired taste, would not any longer pass from my plate into the compost. Mom made as much from scratch as her schedule, increasingly complex over the years, allowed, as one became two, then three-four-and five.

Sis and I walked our siblings, leading to good-natured ribbing from neighbourhood boys, who swore they wouldn’t be caught dead pushing a baby in a carriage. Every last one of them married strong women, and sired at least two kids apiece. I have to wonder.

Mom never coddled us boys, when we were knocked around by guys stronger than us. She and Dad got me a set of barbells, and like the bicycle that came before, I “tried” them for about six days and lost interest. My next brother inherited what interested him, and they became less than a total loss. She listened to my tales of woe, but her mantra, on a good many occasions, was “poor baby”. When she did see that one of us was being unjustly treated, though, she was like her favourite hockey player, Bobby “Katie Bar the Door” Orr.

My seventh grade home room teacher, a large and very loud man, thought it funny to lampoon my family name, until 128 pounds of fury was standing in front of him and letting it be known that his job could very well be at risk. The better angels of Mr. Anzalone were ever present, from that day forward.

She was also no holds barred, when it came to defending her youngest child. B could scarcely catch a break, in his short life, but he did get lucky when it came to parentage. She did the right thing by him, every step of the way.

She has done the right thing, by all of us, every step of the way.

Camp Notes, Day 8

2

June 14, 2024- The little girl ruled the room, as soon as she entered, a smile from ear to ear, dancing with her mother and an aunt, as her surrogate grandfather was rambunctiously playing the keyboards and singing “God Bless The Whole World”, to the tune of “God Bless America”. This was the reason I pulled self together and walked down to the Raven Cafe, this evening, after an exhausting final day of camp. It is seldom, if ever, that I miss a Jonathan Best concert, when I am at Home Base. The man is energizing and affirms every loving soul-like his soul daughter’s child, his former neighbour and me.

Earlier, the campers got themselves together and were out of Bellemont, by 12:30. The kitchen clean-up, including the refrigerator’s sort-out, took another 2 hours. It was done, though, and I was out of the camp by 3. A few hours later, the mail had been picked up and Sportage washed. A Zoom devotional boosted me into the evening and I was okay to go to Raven and focus my attention mostly on a friend who has been suffering, of late.

By 10:30, the energy supply was fading and I bid my younger friend adieu, having drawn out from her a hopeful game plan that involves her connecting with a kindred spirit, in another part of the world, next year. I walked back to Home Base, in peace. Thoughts of my own kindred spirit, in another part of the world, also get me to the end of a day.

Tomorrow will be busy, with some fence-mending, but without the burden of manning a Red Cross shelter, as the problem fire has been put out. I will be glad to man a booth, put away equipment at Farmers Market and reconnect with people from whom I have been estranged, these past two years.

Camp Notes, Day 7

4

June 13, 2024, Bellemont- There was a hint of sprinkles, most of the day, but that did not stop the basketball and volleyball games from proceeding. The day was certainly cooler, and we did things like haul about ten trash bags to our trailer dump site (me) and dig up protruding rocks (two teen boys) that presented safety hazards for the girls who might have had to risk stubbing and breaking their toes, in the dark-going from dorm to restroom.

This last full day of camp was celebrated with Navajo tacos, a dish that consists of golden fry bread topped with ground beef (or its homemade veggie equivalent, which was the filling tonight), lettuce, tomato, shredded cheese, jalapenos, olives and sour cream. Fry bread is a staple food in many First Nations communities, stemming from the need to make use of the mealy flour given them, by the U.S. Cavalry (and its Canadian equivalent), in the latter half of the 19th Century). My Dad celebrated his Wabenaki Penobscot heritage, by occasionally making “fried dough”, a Penobscot tradition.

Finally, the campers participated in a trust walk, in which two campers were joined by a wristband, and the one in front had to lead a partner through the woods. The group then did a scavenger hunt in the dark, using flashlights, and finding items that were obscure. Sounds a bit like geocaching.

I am a bit exhausted, so will stop here. Have a good night, all.