Rubicon

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August 14, 2016, Prescott- I remarked to some collaborators-in-faith, this morning, that I have scrapped plans for most travel outside North America, until at least 2021. (South Korea, where my son is to be stationed, next year, being an exception.)  There were crickets in the room, so our discourse went on to things of more common interest.

Later today, I attended a gathering that was sponsored by Team Rubicon, the disaster recovery organization that is mostly made up of military veterans.  The very allusion to making a decisive and irreversible choice defines this group, whose impact is as great, if not greater than that of the Red Cross.  These are the people who remain behind, once the news cycle is over and the long-term work begins.  They choose to walk the celestial path, with practical feet. (‘Abdu’l-Baha admonished us Baha’is to do just that, in several speeches, when he visited North America, in 1912.)

I have plenty to do around here, during the academic year, and with regard to both my Faith and the needs of the larger community.  At 65 years, 8 months, it’s important to consider at least the seeds of legacy.  I’m in fine health, and I do want to continue with a full, contributive life.  Five years of gainful employment remain.  I will insist on actively taking part in the well-being of the Prescott area, both inside and outside my worksite.  Summers will still find me visiting friends and family, in various parts of this continent, starting with a second journey northwestward, next June. Christmas and New Year’s will still be marked by the presence of loved ones and good friends, both here and on the East Coast.  June, 2021 will still be the beginning of an extended journey to many parts of the globe, the only caveats being the needs of my son, any family he might have by then, and our larger family.

I will remain working to educate people on the Oneness of Mankind, on the need for an inquiring mind, and on the healing properties of Certified, Therapeutic Grade Essential Oils, and the imperative of wellness.  My Rubicon was crossed, years ago, when Penny pointed me towards the mountain with a shimmering star above it.

 

Second Class

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August 10, 2016, Prescott- I find the ongoing raising of the issue of gun ownership to be one of the simultaneously most ludicrous, and most dangerous, activities of the political season.  The majority of firearms owners, which included my immediate family until 2011, and still includes my son, and several friends, are sober, careful people, who have had proper training in the care, use, maintenance and safeguarding of arms and ammunition.

I had my first class in firearms safety, in 1962, as an 11-year-old Boy Scout.  That class was offered by a Certified Trainer, at a National Rifle Association facility.  I  subsequently had training in a variety of weapons, as part of my overall training, whilst a soldier in the U. S. Army.  My son, in turn, had full certified training in the use of several firearms, prior to buying and properly owning a weapon of his own.

Although I  no longer own a firearm, I believe people are within their rights to do so, for the purposes of hunting, self-defense and target shooting, if that is their fancy. Where I draw the line is at the notion that the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution suggests it is permissible to rise in insurrection against a freely-elected President.

It does not.  The framers of our Constitution warned against tyranny- either of the elect, or by the electorate.  There are many non-legislated rules and regulations, emanating from governments at all levels, with which I disagree.  These have been promulgated by liberal and conservative elected officials alike.  There are some rules of which I approve, while others loathe them.  None of us, though, is so privileged as to kill or maim an elected official, or any law enforcement officer going about the day-to-day keeping of order.  Likewise, no government official or law enforcement officer can be so obstreperous as to randomly, or systematically, engage in acts of oppression against ordinary citizens.  There can be no second class citizenry.

There is a process, some parts of which are cumbersome, often tedious, for effecting change.  Protest is a legitimate part of that change agency.  Rebellion is not.  No person, therefore, can legitimately swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States of America, if his/her intention is to cherry-pick its provisions.  Our next  President must be…..presidential.  The people he/she defeats, must remain loyal to our government- and to our country.

Tales of the 2016 Road: Prairies Forever

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July 19-20, 2016, Hays, KS-   Early alley-oop, on Wednesday morning, got me over to Country Cupboard, in Carterville, about five miles west of Marion.  I wanted a simple breakfast, in a place favoured by locals- so there it was.

The conversation in the establishment was all about autistic children, and how they fare in the schools of southern Illinois.  It seems a mixed bag.  One mother found her child’s school to be minimally supportive. A grandmother expressed annoyance at how her grandchild was being received, day to day.  This is an area which hosts a sizable public university.  That, of course, in and of itself, does not guarantee  equity in the treatment of special needs children.  I read, just a few minutes ago, of a threat made against the parent of a special needs child, by a university professor in another state.  Education does not guarantee either wisdom, or human decency.  So, these ladies, and thousands like them, soldier on, fighting for their children- as only decent mothers can.  We won’t concern ourselves with the indecent ones.

I headed northwest, then due west, passing through metro St. Louis, noting that the Mississippi and Missouri appear to be in good shape.  I stopped , momentarily, at a Steak and Shake, in suburban St.Peter, and turned myself into a balloon with a delectable mint Oreo shake.  The burger, sadly, was forgettable, but life goes on.

In Columbia, I surprised a couple of old friends, who had moved there from Prescott, a couple of years ago, to be near family.

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The Fourcks, of Columbia, MO

We spent about two hours catching up on life events, and mutual friends, in the comfort of their living room and at a nearby Cracker Barrel.  I bid farewell to Emil and Pam, as evening approached, and drove on through Missouri, stopping only to savour the preserved prairie, at a rest stop outside Boonville.

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Tall grass prairie, Boonville, MO

It seems to me that the more prairie we keep around, the more the soil will remain rich and productive.  Monoculture, under whatever guise it is implemented, will only add to our food security problems, in the long term.

I skirted around Kansas City, took the toll road to Topeka, then got back on the freeway, as far as Salina, before stopping for the night.  Super 8 offered a decent breakfast, the next morning- and I got a relatively early start, reaching this western Kansas university town, just before noon.

Hays is another quintessential prairie town, in some ways a blast from the past, though people here seem as informed and contemporary in style, as anywhere else.  There is a mixed view of Donald Trump, much as I found in the conservative communities in which I found myself, in southern Missouri, Indiana, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Virginia and the Southeast.

Construction-wise, people here rely on stone.

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Ellis County Courthouse, Hays, KS

I was taken by the smoothed brick streets of downtown Hays.  The mood was fairly quiet, but there were plenty of people out and about- just going on with life, despite the heat.  It was 104 here, as I spent about twenty minutes poking about the north end of the city center.

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This stone gem looks like a church, but is now a law office.

The law office that looks like a church has this as a cross street neighbour.

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The Ten Commandments, St. Joseph’s Parish, Hays, KS

It occurred to me that there are a few, at the famous church back in Topeka, who could stand to learn a thing or two from the folks at St. Joseph’s Parish.  Then again, there are many, liberal, conservative, and in-between, who could do the same.

Here are a few more scenes of St. Joseph’s Parish.

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Social Service Center, St.Joseph’s Parish, Hays, KS

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Church of St. Joseph, Hays, KS

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Chapel grotto, St. Joseph’s Parish, Hays, KS

The above is surely a place of restoration, on a busy day.

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This store is still active, in the days of WalMart.  I find that reassuring.  

Downtown Hays has a popular lunch counter, inside the stationery store.  Northwestern Office Supply’s soda shoppe is the place to go for a full salad bar, freshly made (from scratch) soups and all the soda fountain treats one can imagine.  I behaved, somewhat, opting for a Reuben with cole slaw, and iced tea.  Had it not been so hot outside, soup would have been a magnificent thing.

There are other interesting towns in northwestern Kansas, such as Colby and Oakley, but I had this little agenda, of getting to the Denver area in time enough to skirt rush hour, so I say, “Another time.”  Yes, those of my friends who travel in rarefied circles, there is value to visiting the Prairie.  It has our roots.

 

Tales from the 2016 Road: Harrisonburg, of the Shenandoah

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July 14, 2016, Harrisonburg, VA- The Spine of Virginia is replete with picturesque cities and towns, of various sizes, from sprawling Roanoke and bustling Charlottesville, to compact places like Dublin and Damascus.  I decided to stop for lunch, and a stretch, in Harrisonburg, a city about the size of Prescott, and whose civic life is also centered on the area around its courthouse.  Court Square, west of James Madison University, has a variety of eateries and clothing shops.  I was drawn to Artful Dodger Coffeehouse and Cocktail Lounge.  Being a teetotaler, I was a curiosity to the couple who tend bar and manage the place.  I enjoyed my iced tea and tuna sandwich, regardless.  Jaqie and Rob couldn’t have been nicer.  It was pointed out to me that, if I stuck around until Friday night, I could get free Salsa Dance lessons.  There but for fortune, go I, towards Florida, but maybe on my next pass.

Here are some scenes both inside and outside of Dodger:

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The ethic of Artful Dodger, Harrisonburg, VA

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Party Time, Harrisonburg, VA

 

Once I parked my car, I passed by the town’s Welcome Center, on the way to lunch.

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Harrisonburg Welcome Center

Inside Artful Dodger, Jaqie and Rob were chatting with the regulars- about something going on Friday night, and I busied myself with the accouterments of the house, whilst waiting for my meal.

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The sun shines within; Artful Dodger Coffeehouse, Harrisonburg

 

After a good forty-five minutes out of the heat, I set out for a brief exploration of Court Square.

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Rockingham County Court House, Harrisonburg, VA

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Fountains, in Court House Plaza, Harrisonburg

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Small garden, Court House Plaza, Harrisonburg

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Panels, Court House, Harrisonburg, VA

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Unnamed building, southeast corner of Court Square, Harrisonburg, VA

I will regard this little town as another link in the chain of homes I seem to be building, whilst continuing to connect with friends and family.  it is always about expanding the network.

NEXT:  The Road Back to Florida

Tales of the 2016 Road: A Heartland Independence Day

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July 4, 2016, Francesville, IN- I headed out of Rolla, MO, in the early morning drizzle.  The hapless man who had been asking for sustenance, last night, was sitting outside his room, looking puzzled that I should be heading out so soon.  I had one main destination for the day:  The new Welcome Center of the Baha’i House of Worship, in Wilmette, IL- just north of Chicago.  It would take most of the day to get there, so I was on the road by 8 A.M.

The Missouri countryside is always a pleasure, though while I rolled along I-44, towards St. Louis, it was striking how little traffic there was, headed eastward.  It was also fairly easy to head northward, bypassing the downtown area.  Determined to have my main meal in midday, I stopped around 11, at a Hibachi Grill, in Florissant, near the area that was so much in turmoil, in 2014.  Florissant itself, though, is well-manicured and has a prosperous outer countenance.  I hope the same for the surrounding communities, like Ferguson, while being well aware that a lot of hard work lies ahead, yet.  There were only a few of us in Hibachi Grill, at that hour, while the food was plentiful and varied- with almost as many “American” dishes as Chinese.

Crossing the Mississippi, I knew it would be unlikely that I would see many, if any, of my Midwestern friends, today or tomorrow.  One friend, whom I called, was ill.  Others, I knew, had their holiday plans, so I did not contact them.

Chicagoland always has its traffic challenges, and today’s inbound traffic did not disappoint.  As I expected, it took an hour to get from Bolingbrook, on the southern edge of the region, to Skokie, where I turned off the Kennedy Freeway.  It was easy getting to a gas station, filling up the Nissan, and emptying myself, though there was a line for the latter- not surprising, considering that many of us had been on the freeway for, in some cases, three hours.

The Baha’i House of Worship always rises majestically through the trees, once one gets to the community of Wilmette, and close to Lake Michigan.  I’m always comforted by the sight, and by being in the House.  A particular bonus today, though, was the new Visitor Center.  Here are some views of this fine addition to the complex.

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Entrance to Visitor Center, Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette

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Symbols of faith, Visitor Center, Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL

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Mini-fountains, Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL

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Main Display Hall, Visitor Center, Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL

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Garden outside Visitor Center, Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL

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More Good News for modern man

I knew it would be way over budget, for me to stay in the Chicago area tonight, and the traffic in the morning would be horrific, besides, so after a serene and uplifting hour in the House of Worship, I headed eastward.  Traffic going out of the city was minimal, but I saw an astounding scene unfolding, across the median, on I-94:  Traffic coming from Indiana was at a standstill, for fifteen miles- clear to the Valparaiso turnoff.  It was too late to even think of calling a young friend in Portage, IN, so I headed south on county and state roads, into the rolling farmland and self-sufficient small towns that lie between Chicago and Indianapolis.

Fireworks programs, in many parts of the country, are organized  by cities and towns.  Here in the heartland, as we saw yesterday in Missouri, families set off their own, with the adults carefully monitoring their younger charges.  In Francesville, where I stopped and got a sandwich and some pretzels, for supper, the display was just starting.  I sat and watched, as a few fathers were giving their families and neighbours a visual treat, in a field on the south end of town.

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Fireworks over Francesville, IN

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Fireworks over Francesville, IN

In all the years that I have experienced Independence Day celebrations, none have been more hearfelt, or more enjoyable, than this time of nibbling chicken salad, whilst watching competing displays from adjoining farm fields, in this solid little town, in central Indiana.

I would go on to Logansport, and spend the night in Manor Motel.  I did get the feeling, though, that I would always be welcome in Francesville, and other little towns along the way.  The heartland is a very warm place.

 

 

Tales from the 2016 Road: The Other Half Gives

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July 3, 2016, Ponca City-  I spent about forty minutes visiting this spacious northern Oklahoma town’s three major landmarks, all associated with the oil magnate, E.W. Marland, and his family.

Prior to arriving here, I stopped at the roadside memorial to Chief Joseph, logistics chief of the Nez Perce, in the mid-Nineteenth Century.  The captive Nez Perce, native to Idaho, had been brought here, to Tonkawa, in 1877, and made to remain there, until 1884.  They were allowed to return to Idaho, then, and given the choice of becoming Christian and staying in Idaho, or retaining their old ways, and being moved to Colville, Washington.  Chief Joseph and his band chose the latter.  Below, is the photo of the memorial to him.

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Memorial to Chief Joseph, Tonkawa, OK

Ponca City, in Osage country, has among the earliest ties to the petroleum industry in Oklahoma.  It is, nonetheless, among the state’s most spacious and well-appointed communities.  Here is a look at downtown.

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Grand Avenue, Ponca City

City Hall is also strikingly modern.

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Ponca City Hall

There are two homes, built by E.W. Marland, which feature prominently in Ponca City’s civic life.  Marland’s  Grand Home, built by him in 1916, now serves as the city’s cultural center and Indian Museum.

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Veranda, Marland’s Grand House, Ponca City

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Full view of Marland’s Great House, Ponca City

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Original Marland Oil Company Flag Staff, Ponca City

Ernest Whitworth Marland had a sincere respect for the sacrifices made by women, on the prairie, and had this statue built, in their honour.

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Pioneer Woman Statue, Ponca City

The Marland Mansion, where the family lived after 1916, is the centerpiece of a city park, and is maintained in the spirit of the early 20th Century.  I toured the grounds, as the interior is not open on Sundays.

The Marland children, George and Lydie, are honoured with statues, at the northern and eastern ends of the property, respectively.

The mansion itself was built in grand, European style.  Ernest was a generous man, and did not spare himself or his family of that largesse.

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Marland Mansion, Ponca City

There is a wealth of flora on the grounds.

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Rhododendron bush, Marland Mansion, Ponca City

There is an extensive walking trail around the grounds, which I did not have time to explore, given my invitation to a Fourth of July gathering, east of Joplin.

The pond, though, lends a serenity, and a wildness, to this most epicurean of parks.

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Pond, Marland Mansion grounds

The park is a refreshing place for Poncans to gather, so in my view, E.W.’s largesse has had a good long-term effect.  Now, as long as we keep moving towards cleaner energy….

NEXT UP:  Christmas in July

People of Value

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June 30, 2016, Prescott- I will leave here, in a few short minutes, to visit with several friends and family members, scattered as we all are, across the Great Plains, Midwest, Northeast and South.

Earlier today, though, I stopped by the town of Yarnell, so horribly hit, three years ago, by the fire which took the lives of 19 brave souls and upended countless others.  I was not there for the formal ceremony, which will be addressed by an old friend and co-worker, himself grandfather to one of the men who died that day.  My extended spiritual energy will need to suffice, but at 4:42 PM, wherever I am on the road, I will stop and observe silence, at the very time the lives of the Granite Mountain Hot Shots were snuffed out.

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Future site of Yarnell Hill Memorial Park

This brings me to the wider concept of value.  Recent discussions, in various forums, have raised the matter of how much do the lives and livelihoods of men matter, anymore.  I have been in the situation of feeling devalued, and know several men who feel likewise.  It is not hard to find such people.  All one need do is go to a busy street corner, and notice the person holding a plea-ridden sign.

Of course, homelessness is a far more complex issue than I will address in this particular post.  My wife, son and I were homeless, for a few months in 1992.  We worked our way out of it, and managed to keep a roof over our heads- which I still do.  No, I am concerned right at this moment, with placing value on the persons and souls of the human male- every bit as much as I do with our precious, much-loved female companions on this earthly plane.

I will address this topic in more depth, but for now:  Let each human being realize that his/her dreams, and what they have to offer, matter just as much as anyone else’s.  We do nothing to make the Earth a better place, by excluding anyone, of either gender, or of any given category of humanity, from their rightful place in the mix.  Advancing one group, at the expense of another, is short-sighted, and has always contributed to strife, in the long-run.  There is room, to spare, for both men and women to work, contrary to the ongoing myth of scarcity.

Brexit and Bust?

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June 27, 2016, Prescott- One of the lessons that I have had to learn, three times, is that there are consequences to ill-planning, and even more to no planning at all. For this very reason, I have seen fit to go back to working full-time, come August.

It is coming to light that the advocates of Britain’s exit from the European Union had no coherent strategy.  This raises the old adage, “Be careful for what you wish; you might get it.”  Pandora and her box  also come to  mind, but you get my point.  Here, we have an entire nation that must abide the consequences deriving from the seeming whims of a slender majority, of a minority of registered voters.

I will have more to say about the devaluing of men, in a coming post.  The larger issue here, though, is that, no matter what a nation seeks to accomplish, its chosen leaders need to plan, to strategize in advance.  To be fair,  recent American leaders have not been paragons of strategy, either.  Passing a law, with no clear understanding of its terms, is not an example to offer up to the British, or anyone else.

I admire much about the United Kingdom, and its four distinctive indigenous communities.  I would like to spend some time there, within the next ten years, (along with several other countries).  It would be well if I do not go and find a wreck.  In order to avoid such, here’s hoping that the British stick to their present notion of taking their time with the actual exit.  It does not have to adhere to the German ach schnell!  Rather, the possibility of admitting to an expensive mistake, enacting reforms that would bring  a real sense of worth to the average middle class British worker and further reforms that give the common European a sense that the Union belongs to the people- these are the things that would have obviated the “Brexit” in the first place.  People who feel like they matter, have no problem accommodating newcomers.  People who feel ignored, are fodder for demagogues, and for nativism, whose repercussions they have scant understanding.

This shall be a nerve-wracking, but nonetheless fascinating learning curve, for the British people, and for us all.

Heat and Quotidia

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June 26, 2016, Prescott-  I am back at Home Base, for four days or so, having served others, at a shelter in eastern Arizona and my spirit, at a Baha’i retreat, outside Flagstaff.  There is enough heat to go around, across the continent, from the sound of things.  It’s toasty here, but my ceiling fan, windows cracked open and plenty of cold water will see me through.

The week ahead will find me finishing the facilitation of a spiritual study group, joining a group of children on an outing to an animal rescue shelter, tending to a couple of quotidian comfort items (returning a sound system that isn’t working with my laptop and getting the zipper to the bottom of my tent’s door put back on track.) and being useful around here, wherever I can.

Come Thursday evening, I will be off again- this time focusing on family and friends, scattered as we are across the Midwest, Northeast and South.  The “Garython”, if you will, is likely to be something of a sequel to the journey I took in 2011.  That one was a reaction to my grief.  This one is more of an in-gathering.  Cousins, with whom I haven’t been in touch for several years, are reconnecting.  Friends along the way will also be a priority.  My mother and  two siblings will be at one end of the route, and also a priority, given that the end of this year will find me largely focused on my son and his  impending change of scene.  Southern brother, and Penny’s family, will be at the lower end, as will a few other special souls.  Then, a zip across the nation, to Colorado, and an Essential Oils conference, will end the whole shebang.

I read about fire and water, on opposite ends of the country, continuing to give grief to so many people.  A fellow attendee, at the retreat I joined this weekend, is of the opinion that Earth will undergo severe climate and geological events for the next 30,000 years.  If that’s the case, we’ll all spend much of our spirit lives responding to the urgent pleas of those who are here.  Somehow, I don’t think it’ll be THAT long of a torment, but we surely have to deal with what is going on now.

Speaking of which, a black bear made its way to town today.  It was spotted outside the Planet Fitness that I frequent.  I haven’t left the house, since I got back from Bellemont, and will just have to keep tabs on the matter, tomorrow.

Various Shelters

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June 23, 2016, Eagar, AZ-  I have been helping to staff a Red Cross shelter, in this small eastern Arizona town, for the past two days.  Those who are here, have come because of respiratory issues.  The smoke from the Cedar Fire, a human-caused forest conflagration, has been more of a problem than the actual blaze.  Few, if any, structures have been affected by the fire.  The school where we are housed is well away from the blaze, of course, as is the school in the Painted Desert town of Holbrook, where a second shelter has been opened.  The concerns now are smoke and flooding, once the monsoon rains come, in earnest.  We got a foretaste of the latter, last night, when the parking lot outside our staff motel got about twenty minutes’ worth of shower activity.

The other day, in between beach visits in southern California, I spent about forty minutes walking in the western lagoon area of San Elijo Lagoon Natural Reserve, in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, north of San Diego.  A brackish water lagoon is also a shelter.  Both marine animals and desert mountain creatures find a safe haven.  The lagoon is, however, a tenuous place of refuge.  Given its location near various industrial areas, there is always a balance to be struck between the natural filtering that water plants offer and Man’s perceived need to generate waste, in the name of “prosperity”.  Brackishness has a long way to go, in being appreciated for what it offers the balance of nature.

Thus, San Elijo’s lagoon is a vital educational tool.  Here are some views of the western portion of this extraordinary refuge.

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Thick vegetation is needed, to help filter out toxins.

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Several channels converge in the lagoon, en route to the sea.

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A lone egret was partaking of the solace, this morning.

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The channel on the right has cut through to the ocean.

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The Kumeyaay people, now also called Diegueno or Luiseno, had simple, temporary dwellings, when they came to the lagoon to gather fish, crustaceans and kelp.

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Here is a view of the ocean-bound channel, from the Visitor Center’s second-floor observation deck.

The eastern section of San Elijo Lagoon Natural preserve lies east of Interstate 5, in the community of Encinitas.  It’s an area best enjoyed in the coolness of Fall.  I may well stop and investigate the emerging channels and their hillside source, come October.

There are no real external shelters from one’s own struggles.  The only way, as was said in “The Empire Strikes Back”, is through.  I have been my own worst foe, in so many situations, that the aforementioned option has become my default.  There were two instances, in the past day or so, where my efforts at maintaining the shelter clashed with others, who were either not thinking things through, or were just worn out and seeking the path of least resistance.   The only thing I could do, in both cases, was quietly continue what I was doing, for the benefit of the shelter clients, while not pushing the confrontation envelope. Our manager has confidence in my judgement.  This is a continuation of what I experienced this past Spring, at Prescott High School.  It’s refreshing, actually, and indicates I’m doing something right.

I am grateful for many shelters.