Solidifying the Foundation

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May 25, 2022- A day after the horrific executions of 21 people at Robb Elementary School, Uvalde, TX, the public discussion reverted to the same, abysmal back and forth as to what is needed, in the way of response. Those who cherish ownership of guns oppose any restriction on the devices, missing the point that no one is threatening their gun ownership, per se. A few thoughtful conservatives propose measures to shore up programs for the mentally ill. To what extent they will involve restrictions on gun ownership, upon those who are not in control of their impulses, remains to be seen.

One area on which most seem to agree is that there needs to be a renewal of moral fiber, a sense of personal responsibility, of community cohesion and of a national sense of ownership of policy. Where that begins and in what direction it goes, are up for discussion, apparently.

Here is my take: Life begins at conception. With all due respect to some interpretations of the Torah, the soul enters a body at the moment of conception. That soul stays in that body until the moment of death. This, in my view, sanctifies all life that transpires between the two moments. Thus, any lessening of the value of that life, by any other human being, is contrary to the flow of the Universe.

This is the foundation of any true moral code. It is what needs affirmation, solidification. All else to the contrary is a fabrication.

The Way It’s Always Been….

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May 24, 2022- Fifteen people, who probably started their day with thoughts of a looming summer, ended it outside their bodies-gone to a higher realm. Fourteen of them had barely scratched the surface of this life. The fifteenth had so much more to offer, in the way of helping young people build their lives.

For that matter, an angry young man-raging for God knows what reason, chose to take that anger out on the helpless, the innocent. He might have chosen to state his anger in a productive way, taking the long road of peaceful protest and resistance to authority figures whose agenda seems to be the chipping away of legitimate rights for people of colour and others-but he chose to sow chaos and pain.

The reactions, far and wide, to the Uvalde massacre have been largely typical: Those who fear the loss of the Second Amendment to the U.S. Constitution are taking the lead, already, in politicizing the tragedy. Blaming their political opponents, calling for locking up the mentally ill and placing armed guards in the schools are reactions that have been offered so many times that they have become cliche’, almost cartoonish.

So, what do those who want to see the carnage stopped, be we liberal or conservative, suggest? I can only speak for myself, from a place outside partisanship.

I am not in favour of repealing the Second Amendment. I am in favour of making sure that one and all understand the U.S. Constitution, in its entirety. That takes Civics Education. I am in favour of firearms safety-handling, firing and cleaning, being a prerequisite for anyone seeking to own and operate a weapon. I had that opportunity as a child, and as a young adult-and took advantage of it. So did my late wife and so did our son. True firearms training entails having respect for the firearm.

I am not in favour of locking up anyone whose behaviour is erratic. I am in favour of locking up firearms-and other deadly weapons that may be carried into public spaces-and I am in favour of this being done-first by the legitimate owners of said weapons, or if they refuse or fail to do so, by lawfully constituted agencies of public order. I am in favour of a National Registry of firearms owners, with identification cards. This last is not 100% foolproof-no system of identification ever is- but it will greatly lessen the likelihood that a crazed individual-whether on the political right or left, or of no clear ideology at all, will be able to wreak havoc.

I come to this conversation, honestly, having actually taken action that helped prevent a school shooting-twice. The first involved locating, seizing and turning over to the police, a long rifle and a pistol that were intended to be used in a targeted attack on an elementary school. The plotters were identified, arrested and received proper retribution. The second involved notifying the police of an active threat against one of the staff members, at another school where I was an administrator. The police then took possession of two weapons, which the owner admitted he was going to use on the staff member and his family.

We have no choice but to pay attention-to our surroundings, to our family, friends and co-workers and to the pain that is being inflicted. We can learn Civics, firearms safety and acceptance of responsibility.

This is the way it has actually always been. The rest is mythology.

Transitions

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May 9, 2022- The child kicked and screamed, at the moment that transport from school to home arrived. He had to be restrained, and carried bodily to the vehicle, all the while saying that school was his home now. The vehicle left, with him and his older sister in it, after the ten minute transition.

This raised more than a few red flags in my mind. Why would anyone, even a special needs child, so resist going home? There was one other occasion when a student refused to get on the bus, but that one looked at us, mischievously, and said “As long as I stay off the bus, YOU guys can’t leave, either!” His aunt came and got him, so it meant an extra thirty minutes of time on campus. This felt different, and will bear monitoring, when I go back there, later this week.

People tend to resist change, quite often. I have to wonder, though. What is so great about a particular situation, way of thinking or practice that ALL other possibilities are treated as “off the table”? I do have an understanding of inertia. To some extent, getting up in the morning requires a fair amount of resolve-especially during the months when it’s dark still, well into the morning. The understanding, that it’s not really good for my health to stay in bed too long, has helped-as well as the fact that I am in a warm home, and fairly comfortable.

Bigger changes, though, still have that aura of adventure, so I guess I am a bit of an outlier, in both enjoying routine activities while they run and being glad for even the most seismic of twists and turns as they happen. Maybe it’s a matter of seeing both as the means to personal growth.

Stay Close to Those Who Feel Like Sunlight

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May 3, 2022- This phrase, taken from a quote by Xan Oku, a Japanese poet and philosopher, has come to define the way I am moving in life. It came to mind when I heard a jingle on the computer, a short while ago, and began musing about those in my life who reflect that image.

I’ve mentioned those who mean the most to me, several times in past posts-so briefly, my Sunshine Tribe are closest immediate family, several of my fellow Baha’is, more than a few social activists in the Prescott area and dozens across Arizona, around the country and all over the planet.

The people who feel like sunlight are named Dave, Aram and Yunhee, John and Gladys, Mike and Pooran, Dave and Annie, Linda and Randy, Molly, Ashley, Emily T., Melissa, Robert and Andrea, Annie B., Tom and Jeanie, Val and Sparky, Beth and Dave, Kathleen, Akuura, Sierra, about five dozen children and teens who wouldn’t want their names mentioned and even people I have never met in person, like Marianne, Emily D., Enya, Dan, Valentina P. and Heather, whose words or singing never fail to elevate my spirit and edify my consciousness.

To be fair, almost everyone else in my world does bring a fair amount of sunshine, often with struggles-many of which I gladly share, in the hopes that their burdens might be a little lighter. So, maybe next time, the list will be longer. Let us continue to work at bringing the sunlight, after the clouds have done their work.

The Whole Point of Love

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April 30, 2022- Browsing through a children’s book, entitled “The Huffy, Puffy Cloud” (by Max Kramer), in a few quiet moments this evening, I noted that the anthropomorphic characters , a rain cloud and the Sun, managed to establish their essential unity of purpose: Sustaining life, after the cloud bemoaned feeling friendless, as “everyone runs away when I come out and start raining.” The Sun wisely pointed out that animals and plants actually appreciate the work of the cloud, and besides, it, the Sun, was always right behind or alongside, so the cloud was never alone.

This is true, actually, of all of us. Even when we don’t see anyone around, in a moment of dismal funk or of self-doubt, there are people somewhere who are thinking of us and energy, both material and spiritual, being directed our way. We are creatures of the tangible, as well as of the spirit, so this is not always evident; but it is nonetheless a reality. Sometimes, it just takes a bit more effort at perception- the way one might have to look left, right, and left again, when proceeding from an intersection or to re-read something, in order to get a deeper understanding.

I was asked, this evening, by a trusted friend, whether I felt the need to “get out of Dodge” (the Prescott area), every so often. My feeling, at that moment, was how much I love this area that I call Home Base. I feel no inherent need to escape my surroundings. Travel, in which I do engage a lot, is more a means of connecting the dots, of physically networking, and has always been in my nature, from the time I learned to walk. I am as glad to see people visiting our salubrious area as I am to visit other places, and have encouraged friends and contacts from all walks of life to spend some time here. Even crowds being in a place, most of the time, seems to me a blessing. When I do need solitude, I know where to find it. It is love that underlies my travels, activities here, and everything else, for that matter.

The whole point of love is to foster and support life.

Blood Simple

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April 14, 2022- This evening, I saw a snippet of a drama, discussing the curious matter of blood type chimerism, in which a person could have more than one blood type. The matter is explained in detail, in: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/17053463/ and https://www.healthline.com/health/chimerism.

This issue is raised, when a child has a blood type, which neither parent of record is known to have. Each parent may then be tested for chimerism, in the hopes that nothing skeevy has gone on and resulted in the child having been sired by a third party. Of course, this matter can be complicated by in vitro fertilization, sperm or egg donors, or just a series of multiple partners, prior to the pregnancy and birth.

I am old school, when it comes to such matters. I fell in love and married, once, and did not stray. There was never any doubt, as to our son’s parentage, as there is no doubt in probably 90% of all childbirths-even those which are “unwanted”. Ours was very much wanted, of course, and any grandchildren I may have will enjoy the same welcome from their parents.

Blood can be a simple thing. It’s the emotional aspect that makes matters of the heart get complicated. This also is true of relationships between extended families, communities and nations. We have only to get back to the very basic awareness that all bleed red, and are one human race.

On Not Being Invisible

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April 11, 2022- Dr. Carlos Montezuma was a Yavapai, literally sold, as a boy, to an Italian photographer, for 30 pieces of silver, by his Akimel O’odham captors, in October, 1871. Named Wassaja (“Beckoning”), by his parents, he was renamed by his adoptive father, Carlos Gentile, as Carlos Montezuma. He grew up to fully avail himself of formal education, becoming the second Indigenous person to earn a medical degree, after Susan Picotte. Carlos Montezuma invented several medical procedures and devices, for which he never has received official credit. In fact, even mentioning those in print would likely get me in trouble for “copyright violation”.

One thing that Carlos Montezuma did get accredited to his name was founding the Society of American Indians, giving voice to First Nations people, long before the American Indian Movement took it up another notch, in the 1970s. Thanks to Carlos, the road to visibility became clear to the people who were here, long before Columbus, or the Vikings. No one today can say, with a straight face, that they are unaware of our twin continents’ original inhabitants and at least some of what they accomplished.

I say this, because there are still many, across ethnic groups, age categories, genders, who are treated as invisible. One of the things I notice about reaction to my blog is that those posts which give credit or recognition to specific people in marginalized roles are also those posts which get the least acknowledgement. Human nature trends towards the “golden rule of power”: “He who has the gold, makes the rules.” In following this trend, the readers who choose to ignore the “uninteresting” characters, say much about themselves and their own self-concept.

The fact is, though, my friends, each of us has a point of interest about oneself. I learn much from the barristas, the janitors, the bussers, the homeless and the random little kid who wanders about, looking for his family. No one gets to be invisible, in the long run.

And So They Are Ever Present

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April 8, 2022, Phoenix- The bus continued, through the back country of west central Texas-the Permian Basin oil towns, the re-awakening desert town of Van Horn, effervescent El Paso, through southern New Mexico, Tucson and on up to this metropolis.

It seems, in more places than not, I encounter souls who make me feel that my life is something out of Canterbury Tales. There are recurring archetypes: The athletic blonde woman who is there to show me health and fitness tips; the young woman with long brown hair, who watches me from a short distance and seems always to be right in front or behind me in a line, not always saying much, but ever concerned with my safety and well-being; the group of Black or Latino men, usually in threes or fours, who look at me as “Uncle G” and are there for my protection; the children who approach me, with their parents’ approval and tell me of things that are of great importance. All of these people have been there on this journey as well. They don’t always introduce themselves, but there is this sense that we’ve seen one another before. They were all on either the train or on this bus, which I have just exited-for the short hop over to Sky Harbor, where I will catch the shuttle that will bring me up to Prescott, and Home Base.

Yes, it is almost as if I have crew around me. There are some of the above-mentioned prototypes, right there in Prescott as well. Ha! I see that one of my team from there was in New Orleans, right at the same time I was there. You have to love this little ball bearing we’re on.

Always A Fiesta

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April 7, 2022, Abilene, TX- The tiny dancer showed me all of her gymnastic moves-including the one where she “split in two”. That, of course, was the split, a mainstay of young girls’ gymnastic shows, as far back as I can remember. She and her mother were going to San Antonio, to take part in Fiesta, the city’s signature event, since 1891. It started on March 31 and will end on April 10. They showed me their fiesta gowns, as elaborate as any Quinceanera or bridal attire.

The comely Ukrainian woman and her lively daughter also taught me a good series of stretches, to go along with the calf stretches and twists that I customarily do, after a long period of sitting. N is a free spirit, who regularly travels with her daughter, whom she home schools, across the southern tier, from their home in New Orleans to San Antonio, Tucson and Atlanta.

The Fiesta now in its last days is an apt description of their lives, and may it remain so, as long as the world does not encroach too much. I know N is worried, frightened, about the events in her homeland. She has family there, and while they reassure her that the Russian occupiers of her home area are not destroying the place, reports from the ground tell a far more harrowing story.

I meet people like N, wherever I find myself-including at Home Base Prescott. Being of an open mind is in itself a magnet for the quirky, the unusual, but most of all for the truly beautiful in spirit. I am not sure what category I would put the forty-something cross-dressing man, clad in pink dress and red slippers, with a red sash tied around the waist. His beard indicates an interest in having a certain take on the best of both worlds. He seems a gentle soul, forlorn by the decrepit state of the restroom in the 7-11 where we stopped, here in this resurgent former cow town, that is showing signs of being a far exurbia to Dallas-Fort Worth. The clerk, an adult in his early twenties, is nonplussed by his flamboyant fellow citizen-almost in an “every town has one” manner.

There surely are different forms of Fiesta. In the meantime, the bus ride that replaced a ride on the Sunset Train, goes on into the wee hours of tomorrow.

Down to Earth In A Sonesta

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April 3, 2022, Atlanta- I left Heart of Dixie Motel, the fixer-upper that did not even have its own towels. (I had my own, for just such an eventuality.) It was mid-morning and I had plenty of time to get up here, to mid-town Atlanta, by the time I was to host a Zoom call. So it went, and the two paradigms of life in America stood in contrast to one another. Rural Dadeville, with mostly comfortable single family homes and a motel or two to house migrant workers, just up the road from the aspiring surrounds of Lake Martin-a fishing and boating mecca that gives east central Alabama a much-needed boost, versus Atlanta, the symbol of the South that rose again, with every amenity that one could call upon.

I find myself in a Sonesta Hotel, one of those which have become part of the system first established by A.M. Sonnabend, a Boston-based entrepreneur, of whom I heard as a child. Mr. Sonnabend lent the first three letters of his name to the brand-“Son”esta. I worked in a Sonesta, in Bangor, Maine, for a few months, in 1976-7, while simultaneously feeling my way in the newly-emerging field of educating the emotionally-disabled. I held my own in that motel job, and may actually have been better off sticking with the field, at least until I got my head on straighter. Things happen the way they should, though, and here I am, 46 years later, glad to have reached equilibrium in my life and impacted a fair number of children and youth in a positive way.

The next day or two will find me bidding farewell to the Hyundai Sonata, which safely took me to Miami Beach and back, via Brunswick, Amelia Island, Kennedy Space Center, Key West, Big Cypress, Naples (FL), Lake Okeechobee, Tampa-St. Petersburg, Spring Hill, and the Carter Country of southwest Georgia. Thinking things through, in the safety of a comfortable hotel room, is not hard. I have Celtic music gently playing and the knowledge that, although the faith-based activities I hoped to have included in this journey were eclipsed by lingering pandemic-related restrictions, I did right by family members along the way and made new, if fleeting, friendships-with people I may very well encounter again in the future. I kept the online meeting commitments I had, that either did not conflict with family engagements or get rendered cumbersome by lack of a proper venue at the time they were scheduled.

Above all else, I did not fold, did not collapse or get shaken by either aloneness or by the ignorance of others who did not honour my presence, even though I did theirs. March was both a hard energy month and a stage filled with opportunities for growth. April, May and June will bring more of the latter-mostly around Home Base, but with another likely journey of observation and service, towards the end of Spring.

The flutes and strings are telling me to be gentle with self and re-group, in any way that such is needed.