Category Archives: Community

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XXI: Near and Far

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Posted by on in Community, Hiking and Nature, Social, Spiritual, Travel

April 8, 2017, Prescott-

I went to the Farmers’ Market, this morning, and attended a Red Cross Volunteer Appreciation Luncheon.  Then, I went back to Home Base and cleared the first of nineteen sections of a weed-filled back yard.  I am old school, when it comes to such things.  Herbicide and gasoline-operated weed whackers don’t appeal to me.  Pulling weeds up by the roots is tedious, but it has no side effects.  I also won’t wreck the beautiful tulips that are gracing the yard.

I chose to stay in, this evening, just for the sake of it.  In the process, I find myself wanting to note the things that are dear to my heart about each region of the United States- at least the contiguous area, with which I am most familiar.

So, I love the Southwest for its lush deserts, its canyons and their limitless surprises, mountains that rise like sky islands, the wildlife that seems so furtive and yet so likely to pop out of hiding, at a moment’s notice.  Its superlatives are the Grand Canyon, Nevada’s Valley of Fire and Cathedral Gorge, Mesa Verde, Chaco Canyon and Kartchner Caverns.  Its most sublime surprises are Canyon de Chelly, Slide Rock,  Thumb Butte, Picacho Peak, Quitobaquito, White Sands and Great Sand Dunes.  The revelations are the best of all:  Superior, AZ; Mancos, CO; Pioche, NV; Truth or Consequences and Chama, NM; Loa, UT.   Prescott will always feel like home, and so will Tucson, Flagstaff, Hopi, Dinetah, Reno-Carson City, the Front Range and Superior.

California is in several classes by itself.  The sunny (until this year) south; the interchangeable mountains and deserts of the east; the intense vegetation of the north.  It has been a home away from Home Base, for as long as I’ve lived in Arizona.  Its superlatives are Yosemite, Mount Shasta, the Coastal Redwoods, frenetic Los Angeles and exquisite San Francisco.  San Diego and Julian will always be welcoming, family places. Coastal Orange County, Palos Verdes, Santa Barbara, Santa Cruz, Point Reyes and Mount Lassen define inspirational.  There is no such thing as a boring Spanish colonial mission.  Revelatory, to me, are little towns like Banning, Brawley, Ojai, Willits, Lomita, Woodfords and Yreka.

The  Pacific Northwest defines majesty.  Nothing outdoes the Olympic Peninsula, the Oregon Coast, Rogue River Gorge, the North Cascades or the canyons carved by the Snake and Columbia Rivers.  Portland and Seattle exude creativity and cultural diversity.  The islands of Puget Sound and the Straits abound with familial small communities:  Anacortes and Friday Harbor stand out, in my memory.  Wenatchee, Toppenish, Leavenworth, Spokane, The Dalles, Bend, Culver, Ashland, Pullman, Lewiston and Moscow all took me under their wings, and  remain every bit  blessed in my heart.  The most surprising scenes were at Smith Rock, at the bridge outside Culver, at the alkaline lake for which Lakeview is named, on the boulder strewn beaches at Bandon and Kalaloch.

I am rambling, so there will be parts two and three to this elegy.

Peter Rabbit’s House

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Posted by on in children, Community, Personal Values, Poetry, Striving

April 7, 2017, Prescott- 

There they were, the day before  the  first demon came,

living in beautiful anticipation

of the joy that is equal parts sacred and secular.

On the day before the first demon came,

a little boy took his father’s hand

and went to call, at Peter Rabbit’s House.

There was where they both went to dream.

On the day that the first demon came,

young friends mused, about just how

amazing that Christmas would be.

On the day the first demon came,

a grandfather started his day,

sitting in his own house of dreams,

and looked out on the school,

across the street.

Then the first demon came,

the little dreamers fell,

along with some

of their protectors.

The first demon died,

of his own hand.

Some other little dreamers

ran to the grandfather,

who took them in,

on the day the first demon came.

Other demons came,

in his wake,

threatening the grandfather,

and the families,

of the fallen little dreamers.

They always come in packs,

these demons,

even though they claim

to not know one another.

We, though, know who they are.

We, who love our little dreamers,

will stand for them,

and the packs of demons,

will fall by the wayside,

far from Peter Rabbit’s House.

( This is inspired by viewing the film, “Newtown”)

 

Not Like Animals

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Posted by on in children, Community, Personal Values, Social, Striving

April 6, 2017, Prescott-

On the television series, Chicago PD, Intelligence Sergeant Hank Voigt loves his people- family annd fellow detectives alike.  The show frequently addresses misuse of power, both by police and by miscreants.  Among the latter group’s most common misuses of power is rape.  Last night’s episode addressed the neurotic means to power, of the rapist.  As Sergeant Voigt inferred, his people don’t act like animals.

While it was playing, on network TV, seventy five of us, at the main campus of Yavapai College, were gathered to hear the testimony of a dozen women, and one man, who had suffered sexual assault and domestic violence.  They suffered at the hands of those whom they should have been able to trust:  Their fathers, husbands, siblings’ friends, step-parents.  Some got no support from their mothers, siblings, “close friends”, even counselors.

I have, as many of you know, been a counselor, at three different schools in this state.  I have seen all manner of human brutality, and have seen the best of human kindness. Strong women and girls have come to me for assistance,I believe them-then and now, and I have had their backs.  Caring boys and men have pitched in, and helped.  Then, there are the depraved, of both genders, whom I have helped put away.  One case, in particular, stands out: A well-connected individual violated a child, was arrested, and got some of his friends and neighbours to try to impugn my character.  He was tried and convicted, his friends found themselves dispersed, by the government agency which employed them (through no action on my part, by the way), and I continued to work at the school for several more years.

The thing is, as a good friend said recently, men and women need each other.  I have many women friends, of all ages, ethnicities, physical characteristics and marital statuses.  To my mind and in my heart, they, and the men who love them most, are family.  If anything happens to them, their husbands/boyfriends, children or grandchildren, it’s as if it has happened to one of my biological family members.  This goes double for my schoolchildren, but that is a whole other ball of wax, given the protocol under which I work.

People who beat others, devalue others, torment others, have a mindset in which control is paramount.  Co-operation, in their twisted view, exists only for the purpose of accomplishing their agenda.  This is largely the province of men, though I know of several women who have followed the same path.  Little by little, case by case, their victims are stepping forward.  They are learning strength, they are learning to speak out, to walk away and to heal.

In this heart, and in many others, they are loved.

Mocoa, Mosul, Memphis

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Posted by on in Community, Historical, Poetry, Spiritual, Striving

April 4, 2017, Prescott- 

Three rivers converged,

burying some bodies,

and taking others into the maw

of the Amazon Basin.

Five nations’ armies converge,

blasting some innocents to smithereens,

sending others into the maw

of  pseudo-Islamic madness.

Four men converged,

in a sultry  neighbourhood.

One killed another,

sending America into the maw

of an outpouring of grief,

which the nation has yet to overcome.

 

Wild and Woolly

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Posted by on in children, Community, Social

April 3, 2017, Prescott-  Things were relatively tame at work, today.  The wild child was determined he wouldn’t be a nuisance to me, and did his absolute best to focus on his learning.  Supervisor A was reasonable and co-operative, saying that the next eight weeks need to see us all united, as a team.  These were both welcome preludes, to what I intend to be a successful end of the academic year.

Mother Nature sent Prescott a whopper, this evening.  As I began walking downtown, an intense microburst swept through, with the high winds knocking down tree limbs and a brief, heavy rain coming down, just as a planned conference call was coming in, (guess what didn’t happen), and I was stepping inside Marino’s Mob Burger.  Dinner was lovely ( zuppa avgolemono, with pita slices), and I was able to wait out the worst of the rain.  Walking over to Sprouts, and along my favourite backstreet, on the way home, I felt safe and composed again, despite the light, cold rain.

It doesn’t take much to keep me happy, in reality.

Tiny Seed

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Posted by on in Community, Poetry, Spiritual

March 26, 2017, Prescott-

I am starting, just starting, to emerge

from a heavy coat,

after several false springs.

My last flowering,

which itself went to seed,

six years ago,

was followed by

pollen-blowing winds.

Tests came,

and the sacred dust settled,

across the middle

and to the south

of this continent,

in the west of Europe,

to our northwest

and Alaska.

I have felt a warm sun,

and plentiful water,

in each place, where my pollen dust has landed.

The seedling is poking through, yet again,

in a new spring.

Much of the pollen,

has stuck, right here,

yet there is a rich amount

that is settling in a place,

one hundred fifty miles or so,

to our southeast.

Friendly gardeners are tending me,

everywhere I feel.

There is wonderment, though,

as to where I will take root,

in this new spring.

 

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XV: Free Souls Abound

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Posted by on in Community, Hiking and Nature, Spiritual

March 13, 2017, Oak Flat, AZ-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES The young couple were a bit taken aback, as I returned to the campsite, where my tent was set up.  They hushed their small, annoyed dog, as I explained I had been at the campsite for a while and had gone to town for dinner.  As they were car-camping, and the campground is free, we were all fine with each other’s presence.  Besides, after some banter, I left them alone, and was content to watch the stars and think loving thoughts. The campground reflected those back.

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Before all this, as there were about 45 minutes until sundown, I took a stroll along an easy trail that led south and west from the campground.  A free spirit, whose own goal was explore all the National Forests west of the Mississippi, had pointed me in the direction of a spring, which he said was a good two hours’ hike from here.  I took the stone path out of the campground and shortly found remnants of another of General Stoneman’s outposts.

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Rhyolite and obsidian abound, in this part of Arizona, as you will see further in “Devils Canyon” (I prefer the name, Queen Creek Gorge, but to each their own.)

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Stone walls were built to last, in the 1870’s.

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I like to pay respects at  memorials to the local departed, wherever I go.  This cross honours the wife of an Oak Flat native.

The campground is of further interest to me, because there is a controversy over just how extensively a planned underground copper mine will be allowed to run, underneath this immediate area.  There are concerns about depleting the water table and about creating a giant sinkhole, under the current campground.  There is some debate, even among Native Americans, as to the sacredness of the site to the Apache Nation.  Several protesters have set up a camp, within the campground, featuring traditional Apache dwellings, called wikieup.  The environmental and archaeological concerns are valid, as is the need for work, among the residents of Superior and outlying areas.  I would probably favour a scaled back mining enterprise, with careful attention to the water table and to honouring any burial sites that may be found.

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Of Life and Death

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Posted by on in Community, Personal Values, Poetry, Striving

March 12, 2017, Prescott Valley-

Gathering on a sunny morning,

we studied the Word of God for this Day.

A group of card players came,

and asked if they might use the room,

in which we were gathered,

as it was a large room,

and there were only a few of us.

We were glad to oblige,

and moved to a comfortable alcove.

The comfort of our neighbours

is not a matter of life and death,

but it MATTERS.

Across the globe,

dozens of people,

living in an Addis Ababa slum,

returned to God,

when an avalanche of refuse

collapsed upon them.

The survival of our fellows,

IS a matter of life and death,

and it MATTERS.

The Flip Side

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Posted by on in children, Community, Personal Values, Poetry, Striving

March 10, 2017, Prescott- 

God has graced man and woman

with one another.

Most children are blessed

with loving parents.

I have been so graced and blessed,

since before I was born.

There are, however,

those, of both genders,

who neither grace their mates,

nor bless their children.

They, of both genders,

who beat their mates,

who abandon their children,

either physically or emotionally,

what do they suppose

happens to those they discard?

There is no human refuse.

Whoever gets left behind,

by those they love,

gets picked up by someone else.

Teachers, social workers,

volunteers, family members,

sometimes,

even neighbours, take up the slack.

Most are good-hearted,

but sometimes,

they are more of the same.

The question begs:

How can anyone look at a child and not love him/her, unconditionally?

We have so much work left to do.

(This was motivated by the report, out of Chicago, that a woman brutalized and killed her granddaughter. She was found guilty today.  It was further motivated by today’s findings at work.)

 

Always Regal

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 8, 2017, Prescott- 
Some thoughts on the occasion of International Women’s Day:

Women, at least from what I can see, want what men want-

Respect, dignity, appreciation, the right to strive, the right to achieve, the chance to succeed, avoidance of typecasting.

I would not be anywhere near the man I am, were it not for Mother’s diligence in her job.

I would be far lesser a person, had it not been for my wife’s undying love and encouragement.

I would not be as loyal a friend, had my sister not been the true and loyal friend she has been, for 64 years.

My world would be bleaker, without many female friends, ranging in age from ten to eighty.

Much is still made of beauty- but it is the kind of beauty radiating from within, that sustains any person, in perpetuity.

Comely women need to be viewed as humans, with the same needs and wants as anyone else, or the viewer is missing a variety of points.

When a task requiring many hands presents itself, a full crew of both genders is the most productive.

I shudder at a world, in which women are barred from exercising their talents and faculties.

Blessed International Women’s Day!