August 6, 2025- I’ve largely stayed in, the past two days, both because of heat and because my schedule is not that busy, this week. I have focused on things like culling my e-mails (2011-2020) and household things-and reading. It almost feels like a throwback to summer in Phoenix, but this is only for few days. The weekend, and next week, will be back to busy-ness.
I have thrived, the past fourteen years, on empathy and commitment to communities, near and far. Some who are in the ascendancy have said that empathy is a weakness of our society. Hope is seen as for suckers. These tenets might work for them in accomplishing short term goals, but I think, deep down, they know that the gig will be up, sooner rather than later.
Empathy and hope are what drive communities. They are what keep families and larger social units together. They are what make even time alone feel less than empty, knowing that humanity is just outside, waiting. They are strengths, not flaws.
August 5,2025- I watched a remarkable 2015 Canadian miniseries, “The Book of Negroes”, based on novel by Lawrence Hill, which in turn was based on an actual British Naval record of 3000 freed African slaves who were brought to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, after the American Revolution.
The story is told through the eyes of an African woman who is also a polymath, at a time when most Africans were seen as illiterate savages, worthy of no treatment better than brutality or manipulation. Aminata Diallo is a fictional character, somewhat inspired by Phillis Wheatly, who was an actual African-American poet of about the time Aminata’s story unfolded. Phillis lived in colonial Massachusetts, while Aminata’s story unfolds in what is now Guinea, then to South Carolina, moving by turns to New York, Nova Scotia, Sierra Leone and London. Actual historical characters General Guy Carleton, Samuel Fraunces and George Washington appear in the New York segment of the story, with Fraunces presented as a mentor and protector of Aminata.
Aminata tells her adult daughter that every story is a treasure, and that even the losses (of which she had several) are worthy of gratitude. Her story does not spare any of the principal forces in the slave trade, yet she faces them all with a life force born in honour. Her fortitude is showcased throughout, and most clearly when she humbles a young slavery advocate during a meeting of the British House of Commons, leading up to the vote to end the slave trade.
A childhood friend remarked to me, about ten years ago, that everyone our age has been through a fair amount of hardship. This is a man who has known quite a bit of success in life, so for him to come forward about the rough patches is quite a revelation. It underscores what Lawrence Hill addresses in his novel, and puts my own highs and lows into perspective. I stopped wallowing in self-pity some time back and can see exactly what Hill’s protagonist is saying.
Those of us who are fully alive have amassed many treasures.
August 4, 2025- Another cancer patient of long-suffering winged his flight to the Spirit Realm, this morning, as I was preparing for a day of service. Like my friend who died yesterday, this man had been receiving the emotional, spiritual and material support of many, who were hoping against hope for a cure. Like my friend, he was simply suffering too much and called to the Divine for release.
Each day brings a passage of sorts to each of us. One either gets stronger, or weaker, or holds the line, in the course of the passage. Each change in body, mind and spirit happens according to which life lessons have been absorbed by the soul. Sometimes, as the body has earned its rest, the spirit goes on to a higher realm. Other times, as there are still life lessons to be absorbed and actions that must be taken by the individual, physical life continues. This is my limited understanding of the process.
I, like Robert Frost’s protagonist, in “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”, “have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep”. The promises kept today were serving as Blood Donor Ambassador at a Red Cross drive in Prescott Valley and serving at the Monday evening Soup Kitchen. There will be several others, locally, that encompass this month. September and October’s promises go further afield; November’s will be fulfilled back here; December’s will be a mix; next year’s fall between the Philippines, Texas and Arizona. “Promise not that which ye don’t fulfill”.
We essentially engage in passages, so that those who paved the way for us might feel fulfilled and those who are following after us might see an illumined path. If I can do both, this life will continue to be well worth each day. My forebears watch from the next world and my progeny look on expectantly. I feel a lot of encouraging energy.
August 2, 2025- Half of the large and amazing farm family were gathered under the little tent, enjoying the artificial, but soft, “grass” and managing to stay out of the heat, whilst enjoying the afternoon breeze. They stayed long after the crowds had departed the Market, but none of us on staff were eager to displace them while there was other work to be done. They are avid supporters of the Prescott Farmers Market and themselves run a family farm, about twenty-five miles north of here. They were, therefore, allowed to stay and relax, until “their” tent was the only thing left to put away.
I am one who will gladly give people the courtesy of lingering, so long as my teammates and I are not taken for granted. The family mentioned above would be mortified if they felt that they were being inconsiderate. (I have visited their homestead several times, and they are most gracious.) Conversely, on Monday evenings, I wait long enough so as not to rush Soup Kitchen guests through their meals-but 5:30 p.m. is the limit set by those on the team who have worked since 10 a.m. So, sometimes it means things might get a bit tense, with those who have little sense of time. It is important to show them that courtesy goes both ways.
We have reached a point where those whose primary value is self-reliance and those who cherish achievements as a group have somehow separated from one another. There is what I consider an artificial division between the two, largely fueled by our culture of anonymity, the overvaluing of personal opinion and of course, the wirepullers- opportunists who alternately whisper and harangue. When I go about tasks of service, working with some at various points along the political spectrum, I find that when the goal is understood, the results are the same.
When profit, a worthy pursuit to the extent that it provides for the well-being of many people, is allowed to exceed the public weal in importance, there is an imbalance. When one’s stated opinions, valuable to the aggregate of the community, are given more importance than the views of others, there begins a process of stagnation. I believe that, once views are stated, they belong to the group to which they are directed. They become part of what is hopefully a healthy conversation and ideally contribute to a solution.
I believe that, big tent or small, there is room for many.
July 31, 2025- Every so often, in places I’ve lived or in jobs I’ve held, there was a feeling of being fully occupied and my presence was justified, but there was no real connection. This is an actual emotion, called Mal de Coucou. It was most common for me in the early ’70s, when many groups engaged in performative camaraderie- and in the marketing “clubs” of the 2000s, where people engaged in similar pretense of teamwork.
Paro, the sense that I am not getting anything right, has hit more times than I can count. The inner nagging stopped, when I came to the realization that more good things were happening on my watch than their opposites.
Jouska, the playing out of imaginary conversations, was a bugbear of my autism, in adolescence and even into young adulthood. The key to getting past this was making actual connections, making Jouska an outflow of Mal de Coucou.
Ecstatic shock is a sudden jolt coming from even so much as a brief glance, from someone you have not seen before. For me, this has happened a half dozen or so times, exclusively from women. One was with me for 29 years afterward. One still connects with me by Instant Messaging, once a week or so, until I can see her again.
There are ten other emotions with names not commonly used in American culture. They may be seen below. All make perfect sense, in their context. How many have you felt?
July 30, 2025- One morning in late May, 1975, I awoke at a camp site, in Mount Greylock State Reservation, centered on Massachusetts’ highest peak. After getting myself together, I walked down to a spot where several teenagers were chatting, they having camped after their senior prom. After a fashion, I was asked why I wasn’t more friendly. I had no real answer at the time, other than “I just haven’t had my coffee yet”. (Cue the eye rolls). It did set me to thinking, though, as to just how important other people were to me, at that stage in my life. Gradually, over the past 50 years, being congenial has assumed importance to me at some times more than at others.
This afternoon, I came across an article about the range of interactions between customers and workers, at grocery stores and restaurants. Some, in both roles, are geared more towards an exchange mindset-more focused on getting the business done. Others are more relational, in their interactions. They enjoy small talk, visiting, hobnobbing-just getting to know people better.
I could say that I am somewhere in the middle of that continuum. There is, though, more of a foundation of being relational in my interactions. Everyone, it seems, appreciates being asked how their day is going and to be wished well, at the close of the interaction, no matter how cut and dried a business exchange it is. Some lonely people need more time, and it can be hard to ease one’s way loose, when there is pressing business at hand. I have managed the tightrope act fairly well, especially in the past twenty years.
Penny taught me the skill of deferred attention, i.e. “Hold that thought, while I take care of this other matter” or “Let me get back to you on that.” It has reaped dividends over the years, and yes, I do get back to people-even if it takes a week or two. Sometimes, they are surprised when I do get back to them, as it may have slipped their busy minds as well-but the continuation, or the closure, is much appreciated.
The truth seems to be that, even in business, a purely exchange-oriented stance will not reap long-term benefits. Elon Musk’s comment that “Empathy is a weakness of Western society” does not augur well for continued success in living. One can’t be tethered to other people’s private lives, but neither can one be totally unmoored.
I rather enjoy both the pleasure of many friends’ company and the satisfaction of accomplishing honest deeds, both of commerce and of service.
July 29, 2025- A friend, who I visited today, has been a paragon of perseverance, over the past three months. After suffering severe injury, while on a trip abroad, he has endured multiple surgeries and lengthy periods of lying down, along with intense physical therapy. His wife, as is only natural, has been his rock. It was clear to me, during and after the visit, that he is going to make it through and show the right way to resilience.
Shades of 2004? Perhaps, with today’s 8.8 earthquake, off the coast of Russia’s Kamchatka Penninsula, generating some tsunami activity. Much of this may affect the islands of the Pacific Basin, the west coasts of North and South America, the east coasts of Asia, from Russia and Japan to the Philippines, Indonesia and Malaysia and the north and east coasts of Australia. A lot was learned in December, 2004, so people are already headed inland or to higher ground. With wisdom and learning from experience, communities and nations can stay strong.
Here in Home Base 1, our main concern is watching a wildfire that is 200 miles away, and keeping one eye on the extended period of dryness. So far, we have made it through the fire season locally, without much difficulty. Rain is falling to the east and may well be here again by Thursday. Even when “putting up with” extended sunshine, we need to focus on staying strong.
July 28, 2025- On the way back from Coffee Klatsch, this morning, I passed the scene of an accident, at a surface street intersection. There were six bystanders helping, so I kept on going. A police car was en route to the scene, as I reached a block south. To be clear, I would have stopped and rendered what aid I could, had I been among the first on the scene. We make room for other people in our lives, without crowding theirs.
Towards evening, I witnessed a conflict between two men. Larger men than I stepped in and separated the two. One was escorted out of the building and the other stayed around, and cooled off. I later talked with the guy who stayed. I learned that he has been pushed around by people in the community, for some time. He also expressed gratitude for those of us who have treated him well. We are seen as more important, in his life, than the bullies-some of whom I know for a fact have been pushed around, themselves.
We are at a crossroads in our social being. Many have found themselves in a position where they are not sure whether their long-held convictions even make sense anymore. Some will just double down on those tenets and see where that leads. Others will seek to expand their mindsets, even turning their backs on the tried and true. In each case, though, none should merely be set aside nor should they be banned from expressing selves.
I could expand on this further, but for now, let’s just say that I am hard-wired to support the Big Tent. It’d be a sadder world, if everything were streamlined and homogenized-or even brought into a state of limited and forced-choice. Anything that doesn’t lead to the hurting of innocents or the vulnerable is on the table.
July 26,2025- There was a consensus among the staff at Farmers Market, this afternoon-The energy today was quite strange. Those who are astrologically inclined put the blame on the retrograde of Planet Mercury. A planetary retrograde is the seeming movement of the orb away from the other planets in the solar system. It is said to bring those influenced by it, back over old ground or unresolved past issues.
I can only say there were a few moments today, when I was feeling a bit of tension-mainly within my own space. At those points, I just stood still and told self to get a grip. It was not going to be a day of being irritated with people, who were just going about their day-even if it seemed that too many were in the same space at once. It worked, and taking my time with several small tasks, one at a time, helped me keep the peace.
Towards the end of my work at the Market, a disabled veteran came along and offered to help. I was absolutely glad to have his assistance and it seemed to make his day. Too many people are made to feel like they don’t matter. I won’t be one of those who stokes that sad fire. My father taught us that everyone has a place in the world, and no one ought to be made to feel worthless. I hope I have made that clear to those who have crossed my path, over the years.
This evening was spent enjoying the music of The Dust Ups, a classic country and surfer music band, out of Tempe. They brought back memories of songs by Dick Dale, the Surfaris, Bob Wills and Don Gibson. Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash and Mexico’s Consuelo Vazquez were represented. (The trio is not to be confused with the four man New Jersey band, The Dust-ups, who also offer country fare). I liked their arrangements and end the day glad that there were no dust ups here, even with the strange energy earlier.
July 24, 2025- There are days when a common thread wiggles its way through the ether, and draws in other threads, which become fastened to it, through a process not immediately comprehensible. Today was such a day. The common thread was my task of getting documentation for possible shelter venues for the American Red Cross.
I had completed the first visit, to Page Unified School District, yesterday, and had made it back to Flagstaff, after a stop at Cameron Trading Post for a Navajo Taco meal. Saving about half of it for a second meal, later today, involved some positioning of the container in what is arguably the world’s smallest refrigerator. American Motor Hotel, where I spent last night, is a space-themed gem, looking somewhat like the brightly- painted lodging establishments now fairly common in the Los Angeles area. The in-room refrigerator is, well, unique and “interesting”. It is designed to hold maybe one or two cold beverages, and a couple of sandwiches. I got the meal container in there, by temporarily removing the shelf and inserting the container vertically.
All in all, though, Americana is a great place to spend a night or two, or even make a vacation of it, as there is an outdoor pool, a funky Mexican restaurant on site, a large outdoor patio area with shaded round tables and room decor that is both amusing (a blue orb that shines and rotates, when plugged in) and thought-provoking (framed posters). The congenial desk staff seals the deal, with cheerful attention to every guest and offering reusable metal water bottles as welcome gifts. Thus, my overnight in Flagstaff became a mini-break from the business at hand. Breakfast at an old East Flagstaff favourite, Miz Zip’s, was a further delight, with homemade corned beef hash as a well-enjoyed choice. Sedona, the lone server when I first came in, was cheerful and attentive to all, even as nearly twenty people showed up after I came in and sat down. Mz. Zip’s has lost none of the ambiance it had when I lived here in 1980-81.
East Flagstaff has its share of fun places, but it was time to head out towards Native American Baha’i Institute, a three-hour drive eastward. The ride was smooth, and traffic moderate, especially once I got past Winslow. I got there, greeted those present, in the Navajo way, with a handshake and “Yaa’tey” (Good day), and went over the requisite forms for a Shelter Survey. Then, it was time for a mini-birthday celebration for one of the elders, with cake. A discussion followed, about non-Navajos hunting elk on the Reservation, by using helicopters. It doesn’t surprise me that this is being done, but I expressed my view that the Navajo Nation Council should be the arbiter of such practices. The elders agreed, and one of them has already filed a complaint with his councilman.
Wanting to get back to Home Base by early evening, I bid farewell to the Dineh friends and drove back towards I-40. Close to the entry point, I encountered a lady who said that a car was on fire up ahead. Lo and behold, a Navajo Police officer had parked near the vehicle that was indeed on fire. Saying a silent prayer for the safety of all concerned, I thanked the lady and turned around, being able to warn another driver about the situation, before taking the detour to the highway. A fire truck and water tanker came by, just before I hit the road.
That brings me to the next unanticipated thread. I gave a ride to a Dineh man who was heading, via circuitous route, to his granddaughter’s birthday party, far to the south. Turns out, he has been working for a modular home manufacturing company, which closed its factory in Page, just this week. The situation is complex, but here is a man, one of many, who is being left high and dry. This is the first I had heard of the situation, but it would not be the last. I heard him out, and got him to a location, south of Holbrook, from where he could catch a further ride. The rest of the drive home, via Winslow, Clints Well and Camp Verde, was serene and in fairly light traffic. I enjoyed the rest of the Navajo Taco in the comfort of Home Base I.
Thus did the thread of my main effort, getting the process going for Red Cross shelters in two more localities, find itself interwoven with wildlife conservation and protection, the housing industry’s woes and their effect on workers and their families and the pleasurable lodging and dining options on Flagstaff’s east side. It was a good 48 hours.
