The Joy of Colours

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July 2, 2023- Two little girls offered commentary, during last night’s early fireworks display. They were most interested in the colours shown by each burst-even noting that the “weeping” item was silver droplets, gently falling. By the time the grand finale had finished, they had tallied twenty-five combinations of green, purple, orange, red, yellow and blue. Their correct summation was that there was a lot of “rainbow stuff”. There were only a few elements that had silver or gold, but that was okay with the kids.

It is a source of joy to me, to see colours in just about anything I encounter-whether in an urban environment, (Thank God for murals, which mainly add luster to a given neighbourhood), or in the glories of nature. The hues could be several shades of green forest, or miles of red rock or, as in the Grand Canyon, a riot of primary colours- from the ancient dark browns of earliest Earth to the iron-flecked top layers of the canyon rims. There have been times when eerie mists rose up from the Hassayampa River, southwest of here, as I hiked in a riparian preserve, several years back or a dazzling, flashing set of several colours appeared to me as I sat at Shalako, a site at the bottom of Texas’ Palo Duro Canyon, a year after Penny passed on. (No, I was not on hallucinogens!)

I am partial to blue, when it comes to choice of clothing, but have been more eclectic, in that regard, this past decade or so. Being required to wear only dark blue polo shirts when I worked for an inventory service, some fifteen years ago, helped bring about a wider palette. When it comes to living creatures-from flowers to animals, I have no set preferences: The wider the variety of colours, the better. Likewise, in the matter of human beings: What will it ever matter, as to the colour of epidermis, eyes or hair?

I take full delight, in the visual wealth we are proffered by the Divine.

Semper Recordabor

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June 30, 2023- The young man stood tall, before his audience of nearly a thousand people, speaking as if to his family. He spoke of numbers: His current age (16); the age of adulthood (18); his age at the time of his father’s tragic passing (6); the number of men who died ten years ago today, in the most lethal wildfire in Arizona history(19). He told of how, each time his father left for work as a Wildland Firefighter, the message was: “You are the man of the house, while I am gone. Obey and protect your mother and guard your brothers and sister.” He became the man of the house for a long, long time, on June 30, 2013. He spoke of his current age as a time of greater responsibility, for which both of his parents had prepared him well. His audience gave him a standing ovation, at the end of a magnificent exhortation to us all, to love one another and honour our community.

Messages came from afar, from our junior United States Senator and our District’s Congressman and directly, from Arizona’s Governor and Prescott’s Mayor, as well as from the Chief of Prescott’s Fire Department and from Arizona’s State Forester. It was Ryder Ashcraft, though, who truly spoke for the Granite Mountain Hotshots and their families-almost in his father’s voice.

I spent much of the day beforehand, hiking four miles roundtrip, on the flank of Yarnell Hill. Well-watered and shielded from the blazing sun, passing before placards honouring each of the nineteen men, I was one of about thirty-six people engaged in the tribute walk. Some made a day of it, going all the way to the vale where the men perished, on that awful afternoon.

Below, a big horn sheep watches over the hikers.

Above, a beam of light makes an exclamation point. It was the perfect spot for noting a superlative.

There are, it seems, always watchers.

Just past the last placard honouring a fallen Hotshot, this boulder evokes a broken heart.

Afterwards, when looking for a place to sit, I found a small spot of curb. Two ladies asked if they could share the space, so room was made for three. A much younger man came along and said we were taking his space. He and family were on blankets behind us, but he wanted an unobstructed view. His three children rolled their eyes at Dad’s protest, and sat on the curb next to me on the other side, with no sense of entitlement. No thing further was heard from him, the rest of the ceremony.

I helped the older of the two women get up and down, for the Pledge of Allegiance and other opening ceremonies. The audience was, for the most part, cooperative and respectful. As our mayor said, we must never forget the sacrifice made, ten years ago.

Semper Recordabor!

Intensity

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June 24, 2023- The day started in earnest, right around 8 a.m., with a quick visit to Farmer’s Market-stocking up on microgreens for the week and getting two bulbs of garlic and some flowers for a friend’s birthday dinner, later in the day. Running out of cash and tokens, I gave one bulb back to the farmer, then went back to HB, catching a half hour or so of the Celebration of Unity Zoom call.

Next, it was off to a Red Cross Blood Drive, where my role was to staff the registration table-checking people in and making sure they had completed all preliminaries, prior to their donation. This was a fairly busy five hours, and I felt successful and bushed at the end.

After changing clothes and leaving my Red Cross “uniform” at the apartment, it was off to a Farmer’s Market volunteer appreciation gathering, at a salubrious Willow Lake ramada. I was still a bit tired, heading up there, and briefly inconvenienced a tow truck driver, at an intersection. He got in his protest, and that was all. I do my level best, most of the time, on the road, but never will claim perfection. The gathering was exactly what I needed, after an intense work shift, and the company of young mothers and children afforded a unique and most essential take on our collective life.

Finally, after a run to Costco, to replenish the supply of flavoured water for upcoming gatherings of children and adolescents, it was time for the aforementioned birthday party. Four of us enjoyed fresh salad, vegan chili and fresh cherries, covering a wide range of topics in conversation. Wild animals in our midst, the right and responsibility of adults to conduct their own affairs and associating with people with whom we disagree were all covered amiably.

After the intensity of the day, I gladly relaxed at HB, viewing a light episode of a streamed program, then turned out the lights. Tomorrow could be just as intense, if I let it be. I think, though, that won’t be how it turns out.

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Their Time Now

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June 17, 2023- In the front yard next door, the co-parented boys run about, with their father’s dog. Rightfully, at 5 and 7, they have not a care in the world. Their father and stepmother see to their needs for 3-5 days at a time and their birth mother does likewise. Theirs seems a full and happy childhood, made all the more so with things like Summer Movies in the Park-with Bouncy Houses, to boot and a wealth of outdoor recreation, now coming back, after a most unfortunate hiatus that seemed to have spanned two or three decades.

A dozen years older than the elder child, the Events Coordinator at Prescott Farmers Market gave me gentle but specific direction, as to how she wanted the storage trailer organized. Everything is neatly enough in place as to allow for a roomy feel to the unit. The woman has a clear sense of purpose, part of what sets my heart and mind at ease. The world is in much better hands, going forward, than some of my contemporaries think-at least that’s my own observation.

There are a number of ways in which things have been made better for all of us, with the emergence of leaders from among the Millennial and “Z” Generations: Relationships between men and women are, by and large, no longer one or two dimensional and there is much less adherence to patriarchic thinking-even in the gaming world. People of colour are much more likely to be accepted for the fullness of their personhood. There is more a sense of universal thinking, much of it, granted, due to the Internet and social media, but buoyed by the open mindedness of youth, which is much less likely to be subverted or stifled by “real world” considerations.

I have no problem following directions from people young enough to be my children, or grandchildren. They will lead masterfully, and will learn from their mistakes, without being overly corrected by those of us in the senior generations. That, to me, is most gratifying.

Camp Three, Day Four: An Outpouring of Gratitude

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June 16, 2023, Bellemont- Chef said it is the first time she has ever received a written statement of thanks from campers. I also got one-which complements a similar statement from those sheltered at Watsonville, earlier this Spring. These reflect the love we felt, and as Paul McCartney once sang, in an entirely different context-” And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

The women and girls awoke early; the boys and men were a bit more casual in doing so. Once things got rolling, though, everyone had their bags and items on the ramada- and the buildings were spotless by 10:30. A lot of food was left over, so those of us who will tend to a mountain of bagged refuse, next Monday, will be in good stead. So, too, will the people to whom I help serve food on Monday evening and the chef’s ravens-(they remember a generous human, and will accept food that people can’t).

It is one of the nicest series of activities in which I have ever taken part. This year is shaping up to be one of those in which my true nature is coming forward-and being openly appreciated helps in that regard. Long may this continue, even if there are occasional setbacks and tribulations.

Camp Three, Day Three: Burritos, Enchiladas and Two Kinds of Salsa

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June 15, 2023, Bellemont- The Enchilada Lady called out on her bullhorn: “Comida, AHORA!”, announcing “Lunch, now!” Children and teens filed into the ramada in fairly short order. They chose from among the left-over burritos, fresh enchiladas and quesadillas, which the three mamas had lovingly prepared. There was plenty of salsa-hot and mild, but no beginner stuff. Chef, needless to say, was enjoying this respite-which ended with her spaghetti and meat sauce, this evening.

My day was filled with observing light repairs, helping lift a couple of generators over some rocks and answering whatever questions I could, from the property manager. He seemed generally pleased, overall, with how the camps are going. My instructions for tomorrow’s camp closing are quite clear.

After spaghetti and meat sauce, it was back to salsa. This time, though, it was salsa dancing. The campers and their chaperones swayed, jumped about and worked out any frustrations they may have accumulated-either here or before they arrived. There is much to be said for dance parties. It certainly made their last night at camp a treasure to be savoured.

This is the vibrant life of a connected community. It is why we need the energy of people from the southern part of our hemisphere, the productive, connected energy, that is, a lot more than they need to offer it. The people who are in our midst, for another morning at least, exude love, balance between work and play and a sense of community responsibility for the well-being of all children and youths in their group. They also look out for us, their hosts.

This is how it used to be, when I was growing up-before anonymity, isolation enabled by garage-doors as ingress and egress points and the casting of the chase after security as the primary goal of so many. The neighbours knew one another-often as friends, and they knew us, as if we were their own-because, in a sense, we were. The child who was cared for, who was valued, was less likely to cause trouble.

Here, for another ten hours, is the answer to much of what hurts America so. Here is the counterpoint to that with which so many associate our neighbour nations to the south: A strong family structure, telescoped into a strong community network.

Camp Three, Day Two: Cold Lava Tubes and A Warm Bonfire

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June 14, 2023, Bellemont– The tell-tale thump, after I had loaded the empty propane tanks into Sportage, for a short journey of refilling, turned into a learning exercise in putting together an inflation kit. The kit, when plugged into what used to be the cigarette lighter port, operates from the battery and puts enough air into most tires to get a vehicle to the nearest town-as long as it is not a hundred miles away. Like yours truly, Sportage does not any longer come with a spare tire.

“Town” being Flagstaff, twelve miles away, I managed to get to the Big O Tire outlet and when the service manager noted my long history with that company, my tire was repaired free of charge. Getting the propane tanks refilled was an easy next task.

The campers spent the afternoon in the Kendrick Park Lava Tubes, where they encountered ice-lots of it, on their carefully-picked way down. The tubes are icy and cold, ten months of the year- July and August being the exceptions, before ice re-forms as nights, at least, start to cool again in September. “September Swelter” is less of a thing in the High Country, at least for now.

When they returned, pizza awaited, after a brief period of unwinding. The campers, ranging in age from six to forty-six, were uniformly in awe of the Lava Tubes, having spent 2 1/2 hours picking their way along. After dinner, they rested further and finished the day with devotions, songs and s’mores, around the first campfire I have built in almost thirty years. The basics worked-pine needles on the bottom, then small sticks, short branches and the larger wood on the top. The campers were delighted and the day was another success.

Life itself daily features cold, followed by hot, and vice versa. Cormac McCarthy, who died yesterday, was first known to me through his “No Country for Old Men”- a chilling tale of a psychopathic genius on a mission of mayhem, in west Texas. McCarthy himself was a warm paragon of inspiration to amateur writers like me. His idea of heaven was to sit in a quiet spot and write his heart out. I fully intend to read his “The Road”, next week, as it concerns itself with fatherhood.

The day also featured a side drama, with someone far from here telling me, essentially, that she would show God a thing or two, and her Satan would show his power I calmly observed that Satan is a construct, and while dark energy can wreak havoc, when concentrated in an individual’s mind or in collective action, it has no creativity and no long-term strength. The Divine, the Creative Force, on the other hand, is enduring, is all about creativity and being unknowable, as to Essence, and is far beyond any man-made construct, no matter how appealing that construct may be to a fragile human ego.

People do what they do-and only action based on love will endure.

Camp Three, Day One: Comida Es Mas Deliciosa

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June 13, 2023, Bellemont- The day began at 5 a.m., as I had to leave Home Base to get up here in time for three van loads of campers, who were supposed to arrive at Noon-but something told me they would be here early, and besides, the water delivery truck was due to get here at 9:30.

It was a light traffic day, so I actually stopped at Brewed Awakening for a light breakfast and got here well in time for the delivery-no pun intended. The campers arrive at 11:15 and were able to get oriented and settled before lunch. I also had no trouble getting everything unlocked and set up, while they unwound a bit.

This is a smaller group than anticipated, but it is certainly a well-balanced and well-behaved party of 26. Three mothers accompanied the campers, which helps-as they have a gentle but firm set of expectations of the children, one which matches our own. The mothers also came with a feeding mission. They have a full menu plan, which they will prepare. This brought a smile to Chef’s face. She sat and was content to offer advice about the equipment, when asked.

My task was to run to a store and buy pillows and slips, for ten people. Fortunately, the items were available at a discount. The rest of the time was quite relaxed. As astrological signs point to a lifting of the tension that intermittently bothered many of us, these past five weeks, this first day of a 3.5 day session augurs well for a fairly calm camp.

The best thing about today, though, was the dinner. Red and white enchiladas were accompanied by rice and a rich sauce that resembled Louisiana Red Gravy. Mas sabor y delicioso!

Second Camp, Day Two: Retirement? What Retirement?

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June 11, 2023, Bellemont- My well-accomplished third sibling/second-born brother celebrated a birthday, today, and is actively moving towards retirement, in the near future. We talked for a while, about his post-retirement plans and, like anything else that is speculative, several options, including “semi-retirement”, come to mind. He will do what is best for his wife and himself, by year’s end.

I pondered my own situation, after the call ended. Today was the second and last day of this second camp, and things went very well, with this small and lively group. The kids cut up a bit and had fun, but were anything but destructive. Working with groups of children and teens adds to my life. So does working with the Red Cross, in Disaster Relief, Logistics and as Blood Ambassador. Advocating for displaced people, as I will do tomorrow, also is a plus. Being in nature and visiting family and friends farther afield also extend a quality life.

There is, then, no real retirement from an active life, until one is called homeward. Even then, the spirit self is exuding energy towards helping those of us still in the mortal frame. We are always making a difference, so long as we so choose.

Categorical

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May 22, 2023- Wagging her finger at me, the perturbed woman growled: “Conservative is the only way!” She was at least communicative; her husband grumbled and walked off, cutting me off in mid-sentence. All this, because I was not of the same opinion about a relatively small issue, which I’ve actually already forgotten.

Labels are actually becoming increasingly irrelevant. Even Donald Trump has a strategy for re-election that involves a No Labels Party. Every one of us has aspects of our being that span the political spectrum. I knew Hippies who were incredibly straight-laced about their friendships and interracial ties. I’ve known buttoned-down businessmen who embrace a great tolerance for opposite points of view.

I am conservative, when it comes to common courtesy-from greeting people, to table manners, to respect for my elders. I am progressive, when it comes to honouring dignity-towards people of colour, towards women and girls, towards children and teens, towards street people and towards rural citizens. I am moderate, when it comes to speech and consideration of opposite points of view.

There are times to take a stand- and that process is one I learned from my father. He never came down hard and dogmatic, but stood his ground handsomely and always in a dignified manner. He was able to summarize other people’s viewpoints to us, in a way that made perfect sense, but not necessarily giving the impression that he agreed with them.

I cannot let myself be pigeonholed or typecast. Such misdirected performance art would solve nothing,