Acker Night, 2021

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December 10, 2021-

For some, it was a chance to engage in a mass dance performance, based on the pop song “Baby Shark”. For another singer, it was a chance to regale an infant girl and her family with that same silly little tune.

For most, the evening was a chance to raise funds for arts education programs in our area. It was also a chance to get yet more photos of the magnificent light display on Courthouse Square. I have posted such photos, in years past and may yet get better shots this year.

For some, it meant crowding into Raven Cafe, The County Seat, or other such eateries, to relax as much as one can in a standing room only setting. There were also those who stood in a long line, outside a real estate office, where live music was also on offer. Then, there were those places, like two of our three downtown bookstores, which opted out of the festivities. Bill’s Pizza had no choice in the matter-Omicron is believed to have come calling, earlier this month and one of the best little pizzerias in Prescott is temporarily closed.

For me, it meant taking in a couple of performances, and leaving a tip in each fund-raising jar. It was quite a crowded event, but with so many places opting out of this year’s participation, the mood was a bit more subdued.

I think, though, that Acker Night will endure, and be a fine fundraising event for years to come.

Who Decides?

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December 8, 2021-

Every weekend, at an intersection near our city’s main hospital, there gathers a fairly raucous crowd of individuals, protesting a vaccine mandate that itself currently does not exist-per a judicial order. It seems that many people extrapolate meanings from the expressed wishes of the President, or another public official-or even a tenuous Executive Order, which only holds as long as neither the judicial or legislative branches challenges it.

I see a greatly heightened sensitivity to both public and private statements or images of public officials. The stock market may rise or fall on the basis of a few cryptic comments by the Chair of the Federal Reserve Board-which may have nothing to do with the price of stocks and bonds. People may go out into the streets or flood social media, based on a private photo of a public figure, expressing that individual’s opinion on a social issue or lifestyle of their family. Thus, we have two sitting congresspeople posing with their children, holding firearms. Since I learned marksmanship and firearms safety at the age of eleven, this strikes me as much ado over nothing-but for the teen daughter of one, who appears to be pointing her rifle at her mother’s neck and for the association with Christmas, which will no doubt be batted around the cyberverse for a few weeks. I think the main issue is that these images are appearing, at an uncomfortably close time, following two school shootings, the Waukesha automobile terror and the verdict on Kyle Rittenhouse.

People can, and should, make their own decisions, regarding introducing their children to responsible use of any given weapon-whether barreled or bladed. A long ago friend, at a dinner table conversation one evening, told his older son, in no uncertain terms, to respect the power of a hunting knife, not to mention any firearms he may handle. This came from a man who had all manner of hunting equipment, which he absolutely would not put in the hands of a lackadaisical family member.

With regard to personal health, I have heard from several people who insist: “My body, my choice!”, when it comes to getting a vaccine or even wearing a mask in public. Some, but not all, of these same people will take umbrage at the thought of a woman consulting with her physician about aborting her fetal child. My take is: If you choose a course of action, then be prepared to accept all that comes with it. If tragedy results, then the individual should be enveloped in love, not opprobrium, to the extent he or she is suffering post-traumatic stress.

Most certainly, no one should be permanently made a pariah, for even a severe error in judgement, though justice must be meted out, properly, when one causes the needless death or injury to others. That justice should, hopefully, result in the miscreant’s remorse and rehabilitation, but let’s face it, some will go to their graves in an unapologetic mien.

For most matters, we ought to have input, at least, over our lives, while processing the input of others.

The Quiet Sunday, Long Ago

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December 7, 2021- People were worshipping, others were fishing, on the vast expanse of Pearl Harbor.

The churchgoers would think of picnicking, the fishers, of cleaning and grilling their catch.

Sailors, Marines and soldiers were lolling about their bunks, or maybe going out for a morning jog.

Approaching from the west, aviators, operating in stealth, let loose with a steady barrage of firepower.

Everyone who was aboard ship became a gunner. The targets did their level best to turn the tables. The attackers carried the day, but the victory was Pyrrhic.

Imperial Japan had awakened a giant, whose ferocity and tenacity would rain far worse devastation on the people who could not look their Emperor in the eye.

The experience of Japan should be a cautionary tale, to all who dream of worldwide hegemony.

Will the ones who now dream of such an empire take heed?

Standing One’s Ground

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December 6, 2021- Two things of note, one personal and the other of wider import: Today marks forty-one years since I met Penny, in Zuni, NM. Former Senator and Presidential candidate Bob Dole died yesterday, at the age of 98. Both people suffered mightily, in the course of their lives. Both people were notable for not giving an inch, to anyone who pushed at their boundaries.

This came to me, all the more clearly, whilst working with seventh graders at a nearby middle school. There was a fair amount of obstinacy, that comes with being twelve. The difference, though, is that the insolent ones were fairly easy to set straight. More discernment was in order, in dealing with those who had a fair point to make, in their disagreements with policies and expectations.

This is the beauty of a day with those for whom adulthood is the light at the end of the tunnel. For all the concern with a dearth of formal civics education, the fact is that those at the tail end of Gen Z and the advance guard of Alphas have begun to do their own civics homework-both with regard to rights and to responsibilities. Group members at a table keep one another in check-not in a “crabs in a bucket” manner, but with the view towards “a tide that lifts all boats”.

There is a process, at the school, for correcting undue insolence, and it works. There is also the caveat that the teacher is the adult in the room, something that is not universally followed by all teachers, everywhere. I follow that caveat, having long ago seen the consequences of behaving otherwise. So, when a student, with a strong sense of both personal power and responsibility, questioned something I was doing, reason prevailed with both of us. No adult is diminished by acknowledging a child who stands their ground, in a judicious manner.

She left the class, at period’s end, on good terms.

Evolution

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December 5, 2021- There was a lot of sameness about today: Breakfast at Post 6, the Sunday paper, and getting the laundry done, for another week. That set me to thinking, though, about what has changed, over the years, in a “then” and “now” fashion.

Then, I knew only people who looked, more or less, like me. I had little sense of how people of different backgrounds, who lived in other places, really thought, felt and acted. There was always a curiosity, though, and while interacting with people of other backgrounds, as I grew into manhood, was sometimes tough, we made it through to the other side as friends.

Now, I am blessed with so many people I love, our respective backgrounds, beliefs and affiliations mattering little.

Then, I knew the small area of Saugus and the surrounding towns and cities. Up north was New Hampshire, where we went on the first part , if not the entirety of every vacation. Down south was Cape Cod, which saw the second part of vacation, when times were good. Places like Providence, Rhode Island and Stamford, Connecticut were rare to our family itinerary, as was Martha’s Vineyard. Now, I have seen parts of all fifty states, have lived near, and walked all over, our nation’s capital. I have lived in Maine, during one of the worst blizzards that New England experienced during the late ’70s. My home, from 1978-86 and again, since 1992, has been Arizona. It was here, in the Southwest, that I met my darling wife, found my true Faith, and came to grips with the state of mind that set me apart from others, for so long.

There have been other places that made me grow. Jeju, Korea taught me the value of looking at life, through other cultural viewpoints. It was there that a son came into our lives, and where he would be hard-wired to seek his own helpmate, thirty years later. Life among Dineh and Hopi further expanded my sense of looking at the world through different lenses. Travels to places like Israel, the West Bank, Guyana, Taiwan, England, France, Luxembourg, Belgium and Germany showed me, time and again, how much we can all learn from one another.

There was a time when I was of a warrior mindset. People abroad could only be saved by us mighty Americans. Then, I went to Vietnam, and found out differently. There was a time when I was of a very exclusive mindset. It was best for others to assimilate into mainstream American culture. Meeting people who are Black, Brown, Indigenous to this continent, East Asians, speaking Spanish, Navajo, Apache, Korean, Mandarin, Creole and yet, going about their lives in ways that taught me volumes, and showed how much assimilation is a myth. There was a time when I had little use for homosexuals. Then, I kept meeting people whose sexual orientation differed from my own, and found they are, in many other ways, the same as I am. Then, too, I saw how some friends underwent the hard process of gender reassignment, and I saw just how these steadfast and forthright friends of mine, one of whom was my rock, when I was at the low point in the grieving process, struggle in very fundamental ways, with aspects of life that those of us who are straight and cisgender handle in de rigeur fashion. I see that no one is pressuring me to adapt to a lifestyle to which I have no attraction; nor should I exert pressure on those who are not drawn to mine.

There remains one “blind spot” of sorts: Grifters, beggars, takers.. Is it true that, being “kind to all who cross my path”, and “if someone asks for your coat, give him your trousers, as well”, should be taken at face value? I am generous in prosperity, and yet, I do not see that having limits to largesse, lest I become a ward of others, means that I lack trust in the Creator. The Prophet Muhammad spoke, “Trust in God, but tie your camel.” I have been homeless, albeit briefly. I have been destitute, also for a very short time. The key to rising out of penury has always lain in being proactive, open-minded and resilient.

Thus have I evolved.

The Blessing of Crowds

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December 4, 2021- For three weeks, between Thanksgiving and the last Saturday before Christmas, it seems that half of the Phoenix area makes its way to Prescott’s Courthouse Square. There was the Light Parade, on November 27, followed today by the Christmas Parade and Lighting of the Trees (with multicoloured illumination of the many trees on the Courthouse grounds). Next Friday will be Acker Night for the Arts, during which a good many businesses, both in and beyond downtown, will be hosting local musical artists, and raising money for arts education.

There are as many reactions to crowds, as there are people in those crowds. It is a common complaint that traffic is way too ridiculously slow-a fair point, but one which can be handled by parking a bit further away, finding a spot during off peak hours and combining downtown activities-or, as I can do, walking from my apartment to the activity venue.

There is the “but, there’s COVID! We should be staying home and not having any public events.” No one is twisting anyone’s arm to go anywhere. There will always be homebodies, who don’t understand why anyone travels-and vice versa. I enjoy a balance of both, while recognizing that when one writes about or shows photos of travels, there can be more of a backlash than when one quietly stays home. Goodness, the same may be said of anyone doing something of which ANYONE might disapprove. As for disease prevention, nothing succeeds like being proactive and maintaining a healthy immune system. Again, if one IS sick, staying home is a good idea.

My take is: I am glad to see people getting out and enjoying themselves. This is how we get to know one another, and open our minds and hearts to different viewpoints, in real time. The antics of children during the Christmas Parade, this afternoon, were as heartwarming as ever. Later, when I went to dinner at The County Seat, I took a seat at the end of a long table that had opened up, in the crowded eatery. A couple showed up and took two seats, followed by another couple, whom they did not previously know. The four became fast friends.

This could not happen, if the climate of overreaction to any health situation, real or imagined, were to prevail, despite the relative mildness of the latest strain. I’ve been vaccinated, have masks that I wear, when prudent or when requested and have not seen anyone coughing in other peoples’ presence-save a little boy fake coughing, for attention, yesterday-until his classmates got on him. End of digression.

Although I am comfortable in my own skin and don’t NEED lots of people around, when there are large gatherings, it does well for everyone finding fault with the situation to remember that other people are just as entitled to experience a full life as they are.

The Realization Road

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December 3, 2021- The three ten-year old girls giggled and smiled at me, whispering, while going about their work, in the minutes before it was time for the class to be dismissed for lunch. This has been part and parcel of many preteens’ growing into a world where they must size up even those furthest from them in age, getting a sense of whether theirs is a safe environment or their guard needs to be raised up. I have seen it for nearly five decades now.

It was more uncertain, when I was younger-and in the years before I was married. Throughout, however, my main concern with all students has been to keep them focused on acquiring thinking skills and making sense of what they might want to do as adults. The process starts, really, when a person masters mobility, then speech. However nebulous it seems to both the little one and to those around her/him-basic interests and skills can be ascertained from the child’s play habits and choice of activities. My son was interested in motorized earth movers, even before his dinosaur phase. His 4-year-old second cousin alternates between building things and driving his Tonka truck around. Another second cousin is strictly into his drivable toy truck. The girl second cousins have a wide range of interests, from chess and the ecology of construction work (an eight-year-old) to ecofriendly farming practices (a ten-year-old).

The students with whom I worked today are well-spoken, very much into independent learning and still keep the spunkiness of preteens. They are at once capable of handling a lot more responsibility than many of us Boomers were given at their age and remain very much in need of respectfully offered adult supervision. There will always be a need for this last, no matter how empowered and enlightened a person is in middle childhood, or adolescence, for that matter.

On this fifth day of “Seventy-One and Counting”, I felt equally valued by both the kids and by the mostly contemporary adults with whom I enjoyed a pre-Christmas Dinner, at the American Legion Post. It was our first such dinner in two years, and all the stops were pulled out. The Prime Rib and fixings were well-prepared by a seasoned chef and her 22-year-old sous chef. The pianist played tunes designed for relaxation and the sometimes raucous conversation just added to the enjoyment of the evening.

I can envision a similar gathering, maybe sixty years hence, of those who sat in the classroom today, maybe not under the same auspices, but in celebration of their camaraderie and a shared joie de vivre.

May they long walk the Realization Road.

Seventy-One and Counting, Day 3

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December 1, 2021- The little long-haired dachshund, standing outside the small cafe, looked over her shoulder at me, as I sat by the window, and smiled as if she knew me from somewhere. Our last dog, of the same breed, was euthanized eleven years ago, at the age of seventeen. Lady had severe arthritis at the time and could not move without screeching. Maybe canine energy flows through the Universe, the way human energy does, or maybe the animal could just sense that I was taken with her sweet expression, as her owner looped the leash around a chair leg, while he went into the nearby herb shop.

Catch-up. This morning, in particular, was set aside for paying the rent, recycling old newspapers and going through the freezer & refrigerator, to make sure any overlooked stale and rancid stuff was tossed. The afternoon was a bit quieter, visiting a bit with friends from Prescott Valley and helping my Hiking Buddy get some of her product to the P.O.

Duplicates, triplicates, etc. Checking the contacts on my i-Phone, I see that nearly all of them were entered at least twice. So, after locating the ‘delete’ tab, at the bottom of each ‘Edit’ page, I managed to start clearing the redundant entries. It’ll probably take a half hour to get through the whole list, including surname changes and removing the names of those who have passed away. This is what happens when importing data from one phone system to another, and getting no confirmation of the import, at first. Retrying was apparently unnecessary.

Stocks in Trade. It most always happens that those with a heavy investment in the stock market use the last trading day of any given month as their pay day. There is always a lame excuse: “Because of ____________ (fill in the blanks)”, but the reason is the same. In essence, this is how some folks pay their bills. The rest of us just bide our time, leave our investments alone and sooner, rather than later, the funds are on the upswing again-until the next end-of-month or day before a holiday.

Whose Body Is It? The Supreme Court Justices weighed in on the matter of whether abortion is a choice or a matter of government restriction. There was no “final” decision made on the matter, but here is the thing, imho. Life begins at conception AND the matter of whether it proceeds to birth lies between a mother and her physician, with hopefully some RESPONSIBLE and informed input from the father. A rapist, or an incestuous man forfeits any claim to having been responsible. It falls to the mother’s moral compass, as to whether the child should be carried to term. Again, in my humble opinion, genetic testing should NOT be the basis for such decision making, if gender or potential disability are the criteria for opting to abort. As a man who is past child- siring age, I recognize that my opinions are not exactly going to be solicited. However, I conclude with three points: 1. A fetus is not brain-dead, despite the statement made to that effect by one of the Supreme Court justices. The level of brain development should have nothing to do with the mother’s decision. That is the stuff and nonsense behind the odious theory of eugenics. 2. Devaluing a person because of gender is precisely the reason why pre-birth testing is also odious. People in societies where women and girls are historically devalued should not be given license to indulge in pre-birth slaughter. 3. Finally, I have yet to meet a mother who opts for abortion who is NOT scarred emotionally by her choice. It is arguably the most terrifying situation in which a human being may be placed. The last thing she needs is to have government in the driver’s seat. The forces of education and nurturance need to be in place, very early in the life of an adolescent -boy or girl and definitely need to be there for a woman who has to make the decision. Regardless of the choice made, the woman needs to be enveloped in love. Too much can, and will, go wrong when a patriarchy or detached bureaucracy-including SCOTUS- imposes its dictates on the lives of women who are of child-bearing age.

That’s my take, and I’m sticking to it.

Seventy-One and Counting, Day 2

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November 30, 2021- Son was busy, during our after-lunch walk, counting any and all critters he spotted along the nature trail that wends it way along Mill Creek, just east of the apartment complex which was, until this afternoon, my Texas home for a week. There were eight squirrels, a crane and probably five green beetles of one kind or another. Such is the condition of an ecosystem that is in the early stages of a managed recovery.

Lunch. Yunhee made her third classic Korean meal in a row. After mandu gook (dumpling soup), and miyok gook (seaweed soup) came bulgogi (the famous Korean marinated barbecued beef). Every meal taken at home was heavenly.

Farewells. I left my little family behind, after a lowkey, but well-spent week. We did not leave the house much, but did take in a few nature trails-including the aforementioned Mill Creek Trail; the latest James Bond film-replete with an Agent 007 who is not Bond, James Bond-and a JB mini-he; and a couple of restaurants-the surprisingly good Tommy Tamale and the earnest, but not overwhelming, Jake’s Burgers and Beer. About the latter, the perky server, Maria, took good care of us, when she wasn’t hanging out with her friend-but that is a maturity thing, not a matter of character. The fare itself was lackluster.

Aram and I had important conversations about spirituality and preparing oneself for parenthood-before even trying to start a family. He has a clear vision about both matters, which I find re-assuring. I was also able to give him extra moral support, while he finished a college project he found nettlesome at times. I’m ever happy to be with my little family.

Return flight. I wandered into an American Airlines bank of check-in stations that were apparently meant for connecting passengers. The agents looked bored out of their skulls, so they were more than happy to check my bag and direct me to the correct gate. TSA is a bit more exacting at DFW than at Sky Harbor. Shoes and belts still come off, and the efficient site manager has bins underneath each standing point along the conveyor belt. Woe be unto anyone who takes a bin from the used pile, which is unsanitized. The manager reminded me of Queen Latifah’s character on the current “The Equalizer”- as officious as needed, very professional and very sure of self. The confusion over a delay of the flight turned out to be confusion, and not fact. My flight to Phoenix left on time. I had a relatively brief waiting period in the boarding area and the plane was loaded on time. Nice seatmates, from Louisiana and California bantered, mostly with one another. I occupied myself by watching a silent screening of “Kong vs. Godzilla”, which I have seen as a captive audience, once before. The Hollow Earth theory is something of which I had heard before, when I was about twelve. Thankfully, it has been relegated to B-grade SyFy.

Sky Harbor. Once on the ground in Phoenix, it took only fifteen minutes to retrieve my checked bag. I had changed the shuttle time to Prescott, owing to the rumoured flight delay. So, back upstairs it was, to Blue Mesa Tacos. The new cook was being strictly supervised by the manager, but she was doing a fine job on her own-for which I praised her. The quesadilla was perfect.

Around 6:20, the shuttle to Prescott arrived. As there was space available, I made a quick appeal to the driver and explained the switcheroo. He was glad to take me along, and by 8:30, we were all back at Home Base.

All good things come to an end, followed by other good things.

Seventy-One and Counting-Day 1

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November 29, 2021, Grapevine- With the four-day holiday at an end, and my weeklong visit with Aram and Yunhee nearing its close, the matter of the year just entered comes into focus. The format of these blogposts will be altered, just a bit. When I change topics, within the framework of a single post, there will be boldface subtitles.

Today, in an effort to support my little family in their individual endeavours, I have fended for myself, resulting in things like checking out a podcast.

Breaking-Points This is an independent podcast site, presenting a variety of topics, within the span of an hour to one and a half hours. Their main philosophical thrust is very much my own: It is past time for elites to stop glad-handing one another, stop tossing out ideological breadcrumbs at members of the economic lower and middle classes and connect with us based on the bread and butter issues that matter most, day to day.

Individual vs. Group Support, in Building Up Communities- For some time, until three months ago, I was being solicited for individual assistance, by someone in another country, who played upon compassion, that I might fund his efforts, singly and alone. After giving a modest amount, and attempting for some time to educate him on groups that might help him, more locally, I found that he was not listening to, or accepting, my suggestions. Thus, the decision was made to cut him off, and I have so communicated this to him.

There are two factors at play here: One is the notion of individual and group empowerment, among citizens of the developing world. The worst legacy of colonialism has been, and remains, the concept that only through financing by individuals who live in Europe or North America can development projects be accomplished.

The second concept is the corollary of guilt. There is much made of the Teaching that wealth is not acceptable unless the whole community is wealthy. That has been taken out of context, quite liberally, by those who do not understand that real wealth is not fleeting, or the result of a windfall. It is something that needs to be sustainable. Pointing to something that a person has and crying out: “Not fair! Give me part of that, NOW!!” is also an outgrowth of colonialism-the “divide and rule” part.

This leads me to: What IS Owed To The Developing World– Omicron Coronavirusdisease 2019 has cast a spotlight on the practice of providing vaccine to those nations whose populace can PAY for the medicine. I understand that the present vaccines are “experimental” and that Research & Development needs a reliable cash flow, in order to be sustained. Yet, there is, at present, enough supply of vaccine to inoculate a hefty percentage of the world’s population. There is enough money in Big Pharma’s coffers to accomplish this, without mass layoffs or bankrupting the industry’s leading executives. One commentator has divided the human race into two segments for the pharmaceutical industry- The developed world as its bankroll and the developing countries as its Petri dish. Simply put: It’s time, past time, to devote humanity’s energies to building humanity’s collective immunity to the pestilences that ravage us-and will continue to do so.

Now, it’s time for me to go and exercise.