Category Archives: Community

Amen To All That

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Personal goals, Striving

May 17, 2016, Prescott- Things went better at work today, as I knew they would. Contrition replaced stridency, and my supervisor announced, at the start of the day, that no one would be allowed to talk politics in class.

My son had a successful laser eye treatment, this morning, and is now at his home, enjoying renewed clarity of vision. We had a fine conversation, this evening, as usual. He is proactive with his personal affairs, so I feel a firm foundation was set, both with our guidance and with our mistakes, from which he learned.

Preliminary job feelers have come out, regarding next academic year, from my current department. It’s nice to be again making a good impression. I would be primarily responsible for helping a young autistic man, with academics and life skills, and, by extension, working with others who need academic assistance. The process should take not much more than a week.

I have been admonished by some who feel I am too busy. Well, there is always a lot going on, but here I am with the free time to write, in clear-headed fashion. There are end-of-year events, this week and next, along with a charity dinner for the family of a woman who died from childbirth complications. I will need to get my vehicle serviced on Friday, and head to an old stomping ground, Keams Canyon, on Saturday, to support Baha’is who have moved there recently, at a devotional meeting they are having. Then, once school is done, it’ll be time to help a friend in Reno move to Carson City.

Busy, somewhat, but feeling productive is a good thing, for me.

NEXT: Another hike along Prescott Circle, this time in Granite Basin.

 

 

 

 

Nature’s Terror

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Posted by on in Assistance, Community, Service Activities

May 7. 2016, Prescott- Today is a rare kick-back day. I did saunter down to our Saturday market, which is now back in my neighbourhood, until October. The fresh produce will go into a Spring soup, once I pick up some organic meat at Trader Joe’s. I also met some of the market’s other regulars, from last year. It’s a lot more relaxed around here, than it was then.

Thinking of taking a short hike, I encountered rain that was serious enough to send me back inside. Studying maps and reading took up the time, instead. I have an inkling to go down to Prescott Valley, this evening, and join a group of friends who are attending a spiritual rock concert.

Our little Drum Circle thumped and chanted, last night, for, among other things, relief for Fort McMurray, Alberta. It is a city of about 85,000 people, now mostly evacuated, due to the worst forest fire in North America, since our own Indian Fire, of 2002. The fact that people were evacuated northward, then they ran out of food, is especially frightening. Now, they have to somehow be brought out of harm’s way, and there was no safe route, as of this morning. With all the tar sands nearby, the place may be extra incendiary.

I know that Canada, as a nation, is up to the horrific challenge- and as a North American, I will offer any support that the people request. This is why we do best not to quibble about the inconsequential.

In Utmost Isolation

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Posted by on in Community, Hiking and Nature, Uncategorized

April 30, 2016, Black Canyon- This is a few days late getting to print, but here is what happened today. I started out in mid-morning, stopping in for breakfast at Flour Stone Bakery, a lovely little spot in the old mining town of Mayer, some 30 miles southeast of Prescott. It has authentic challah, and finely baked rye and other loaves of bread. I am inclined to stop here on future forays along Black Canyon National Recreation Trail, which I started walking, in segments, about 15 months ago- just north of Mayer.

Here is Flour Stone Bakery, inside and out.

Flour Stone Bakery, Mayer, AZ
Flour Stone Bakery, Mayer

It seemed that the entirety of western Yavapai County, from Prescott to Mayer, was hopping, with one form of mass entertainment or another- Bicycle Marathon, Antique Car Show and, here, just plain Antique Shows.

I needed to get back into the wilderness, though, at least for several hours. So, on to Black Canyon it was.

The segment I hiked today extended from Black Canyon City’s trailhead to Cottonwood Gulch, about 6 miles one way. It is roughly 3/8 of the Black Canyon-Table Mesa Road section of this amazing high desert system. In a nutshell, that means I have hiked a bit more than half of the entire trail (44 of 81 miles), over the past 15 months. Manageable segments work well for me, in this regard.

Here are a few scenes from along the trail, which alternates between hugging the Agua Fria and exploring the rugged hills and mesas, west of the river.

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Here is a view of Horseshoe Bend, about two miles south west of the trailhead. A family was enjoying the water of Agua Fria, at this serene spot. They were among the few people I encountered this afternoon. Six bicyclists, here and there, rounded out the “companionship”. Mostly, though, it was the desert and me, alone. Plants, though, were quite prolific.

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Flowering barrel cactus, Black Canyon
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Emerging cholla, in basalt field
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Mr. Sandstone

He didn’t bring me a dream, but his presence was oddly reassuring, in the quiet of the afternoon.

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Hilltop bench, Cheapshot Mine region

I chose this little redoubt, atop Cheapshot Hill, to rest and write a bit in my journal. After a brief interlude here, I kept on going to Cottonwood Gulch, just shy of an intriguing Thumb Butte-like mesa, whose name escapes me. I will check that one out on my next segment hike, from Table Mesa Road, probably next Fall. Here is where I chose to turn around.

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This bush reminded me a bit of mimosa, though I know it is something different- just don’t know its name. It looks like a four-wing saltbush, but the flowers resemble those of saltcedar.

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Desert lily, Cottonwood Gulch

Well, those last two gave me a reason to pick up a wildflower book, which was actually part of a map of Death Valley, of all places.

This trail was certainly the most isolated I’ve experienced since Seven Falls, northeast of Tucson, and it was every bit as satisfying a challenge- 12 miles in a day.

.Upon returning to community life, a poetry reading and a lively jazz-funk concert rounded out this last day of April.

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Heart-shaped Prickly Pear colony

 

Seismic

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Posted by on in Assistance, Community, Social, Uncategorized

April 21, 2016, Prescott- I have been thinking, a lot, about the recent flurry of earthquakes that have caused so much destruction in places like Manta, Ecuador and Kumamoto, Japan. On our turbulent planet, quakes seem to come and go in series, but the truth is, Earth is never still.

Some react to these events by issuing stern warnings about the “Big One”. Others, and I include myself in this category, have been rather “business as usual”, in that regard.  I don’t feel like anything humongous, other than at a relatively local level, is going to happen, any time soon. I have an emergency bag at the ready, but that has as much to do with living at the edge of a dry forest, as it is about getting ready to flee a broken coastline.

Nonetheless, there is only so much turbulence that our resilient planet can handle, so the question begs: How seriously do we take the prophecies of doom?

Irons and Fire

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Posted by on in Community, Personal Values, Striving

April 20, 2016, Flagstaff- En route to this superb university town, in northern Arizona’s Sky Islands, known otherwise as the San Francisco Peaks, I thought of the various “irons” in my collective fire. Interestingly, each time I consider letting one of these go by the wayside, something occurs to put it back, front and center, again.

My Baha’i beliefs are the core of my being, so they are only becoming more important, as the bedrock for everything else. Working with children and youth is the next level, and as it gives me a livelihood, also is unquestionably important.

I am not the world’s greatest businessman, but sharing and educating on the use of Certified Pure, Therapeutic Grade essential oils is crucial to my commitment to promoting health and wellness. There are many people and companies claiming to have the “finest” such products. I can only testify to what works for me.

I am not available as often as the Red Cross might like, but being ready to step in, on the occasion of a local emergency, during the school year, and anytime when I am off work, even when on the road, is also not something I will relinquish.

Then, there are my itchy feet, the icing on the cake.

It’s a good life, of many pieces. Have you ever felt like you needed to give up one of your activities?

Friends, Like These

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Posted by on in Community, Inspiration, Personal Values

April 12, 2016, Prescott- I was determined to not let yesterday’s minor irritations be like rocks in my shoe. Today started out fresh, with the promise of being a full day- work would be followed by a professional workshop, then a meeting of Slow Food Prescott, with its vegetarian dinner.

I got to work, with plenty of time to spare, and a styrofoam box of freshly made pancakes, from Cupper’s Coffee House- hoping for breakfast time. As it happens, I did enjoy the pancakes, only in the automotive classroom, rather than with my charges in Resource Center. Well, things went smoothly enough, the auto shop students did their own project, and the three classes focused on the academic aspects of automotives were mostly dawdlers, but hardly difficult to manage.

That is one aspect of my current position- flexibility, that will only enhance my position. Be invaluable, the voice said during my meditation, last night, and so the flow took me to a place of worth. During the free hours, I found that my new colleagues were glad for what help I could offer them. It has been a long year for many, and being a voice of reason makes a person welcome, in these parts, by teachers and students alike.

Afterward, a workshop was offered, on the Google calendar, by two imaginative and tech-savvy teachers, one of whom I regard almost as a daughter. She will have a long and fabulous career as an educator. I picked up some good points from this workshop, and can organize my overall time, in a far clearer manner, using this tool.

Slow Food’s April meeting transpired in an amazingly lovely Manzanita Village, a cooperative housing scheme, overlooking the city and some intervening valleys. I didn’t have my camera tonight, but will be sure to go back up there and take a few photos to share, in the not too distant future. The meal featured some fermented foods: Kimchi, sauerkraut, kefir and dosa- a crepe, made from fermented lentils and brown rice, soaked for 24 hours, then blended into a batter. It hails from south India, and was thoroughly delectable. I was even given some batter to take home. So guess what breakfast will be tomorrow!

This sort of feeling more connected has generally happened more in Spring, the past several years- and is what keeps me in growth mode. Friendships like these are worth growing.

Prescott Circle Trail, Segment 4: White Spar to Copper Basin, Part 2

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Posted by on in Community, Hiking and Nature, Uncategorized

April 6, 2016, Prescott- While we were living in Phoenix, in 2002, news came of a horrific wildfire, that was bearing down on Prescott: The Indian Fire. It could easily have swept through Thumb Butte and down Copper Basin, slamming full force into downtown Prescott. That didn’t happen, thanks to the Forest Service, and the fates of Nature. As it was, though, the Indian Fire seared a large area between White Spar and Copper Basin, leaving several square miles of sticks in its wake.

On Sunday afternoon, I walked in some of the same areas affected by the Indian Fire. Wolverton Mountain rises above the trail, though no family named Clowers lives there. Quartz Mountain is reached by a side trail, about 1/2 mile south of Wolverton.  Both peaks were singed in 2002.

I began at the Copper Basin end of the segment, starting out on the Aspen Creek Trail. The creek comes down, from the western base of Wolverton Mountain, and flows down towards Granite Creek and downtown Prescott. The creek is barely flowing, and indeed, the ground in this area is badly in need of a soaking.

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Trailhead, Aspen Creek Trail
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Gray granite, Aspen Creek Trail

I came soon enough to the upper reach of Aspen Creek Canyon.

Aspen Creek Canyon
Aspen Creek Canyon, Prescott
Aspen Creek Canyon, Prescott

As the sun was getting a bit lower, I came to the junction with Wolverton Mountain Trail and Quartz Mountain side trail. Walking along the Wolverton, I had several fine views of the high ridge of the Sierra Prieta Range, of which these peaks are an eastern offshoot.

Sierra Prieta Range
Junction of three trails
Sierra Prieta Range, from Wolverton Mountain Trail

A glimpse of Wolverton Mountain’s practical use was visible from the trail, though the summit itself will be the focus of a future hike.

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Summit of Wolverton Mountain, from trail.

Shortly after passing Wolverton’s eastern edge, I came to Quartz Mountain Trail. This unique promontory will be the topic of the next post.

Out Like A Lion

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving, Uncategorized

March 30, 2016, Prescott- I’ve been pretty busy this week, with work, and a brief foray into the “after work” social gathering scene. I find it still as shallow as it was when I frequented such gatherings, before Penny came along. People have their closed groups, and no matter that one or two might invite a newcomer, out of courtesy, it doesn’t take long for the body language to stiffen and the eye contact to move to those familiar faces.

My thoughts went today to the places where, and the people with whom, I feel at home. Not all are my ever-agreeable supporters. Some are critics, but they are honest critics, and are often quite helpful. As my beloved always said, “The opposite of love is indifference”.

In this hour of a March that is headed out like a lion, after treating us to icy wind and a dusting of snow, I want to honour the places that are homes to me, in the West, since it’s been a while.

Prescott and vicinity, Flagstaff, Marana, Tubac, Bisbee, Thatcher, the Sunnyslope area of Phoenix,  Holbrook, Hopi land, Pine Springs, Reno and Carson City, San Diego and vicinity, Dana Point, San Clemente, Lomita, Santa Barbara, Ojai, Ashland (OR), Portland, Spokane, Anacortes, Wrangell, Juneau, Sitka, Ketchikan, Afton (WY), Cortez, Boulder, Colorado Springs, San Luis (CO), Socorro, Albuquerque, Truth or Consequences. I can go to any of these places, and there will be a welcoming presence.

I will talk further about my homes in the Midwest, the South, the Northeast, and the rest of the world, in subsequent posts. The point is, I am ever grateful for all who have reached out, kept faith in me, and not abandoned me out of difference of opinion, hurt feelings, or convenience.

Let’s see whether the March Lion gives way, willingly, to the April Lamb.

Shante’s Dream

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Posted by on in children, Community, Striving

March 27, 2016, Marana- He has only been among us, here in Arizona, for about ten days, along with his two brothers and two sisters. None of the kids speaks English, and they only know a smattering of French. Swahili is their mainstay. Shante (SHAN-tay), age 3, and his siblings, have come to us from DR Congo, by way of Tanzania. The children, and their caretakers, joined thirty-four others of us, at a Unity in Diversity musical festival, on this bright, but thankfully breezy and cool, Easter Sunday.

Despite all his family’s travails, Shante walks with a swagger, and a purpose. His take on life is strictly one day- or one moment- at a time. That is the joy of being three, nothing has assumed an air of permanence in life, as yet. He looks up at the tall, well-built drummers, themselves having come here from the Republic of Congo-Brazzaville, speaking just enough Swahili to make the kids feel welcome. They show Shante their drums, and lift him up, so that he may tap on the skin and feel his own rhythm start to stir.

After a few minutes of this, and a ping-ping, on the keyboard of a Cuban musician, fresh from the city of Holguin (visited by Pope Francis I, last Fall), Shante comes back down, off stage, and lingers by my seat for a bit, then goes along his way, back to be with his sisters.

They take part in a second-round hunt for plastic eggs, filled with jelly beans. The girls manage to find all remaining eggs, within two minutes of search. Shante gets his share of the take- four plastic, jelly-bean filled delights. He eats one jelly bean, and that’s enough. For a child who has seen, and tasted, little of sweetness, a little bit goes forever.

Shante has his dream- as yet locked behind the door of linguistic disparity, and development. A three-year-old’s Swahili is, after all, no more proficient than would be his contemporaries’ Norwegian, Spanish, or Kwa Zulu, in other parts of this hard, but exquisite home of ours. His eyes, though, are scintillating. This boy is sharp, and will make his way in the world, regardless of circumstances. He shows interest in the music, whether African, Caribbean or Bluegrass, and dances to whatever tune is being offered. He examines a blind man’s Australian bush hat, carefully fingering its strap and felt covering, as the patient man abides the probing. He works the crowd, and sizes each of us up, by looking us in the eye, for a minute or two, before moving on to the next person of interest. He offers a brief opinion of what he has seen and heard, to his oldest brother, who nods in assent and holds Shante close, for a few minutes.

I keep saying this: We, the elders, are in good hands with the generations that are rising.

Bruxelles, Mon Amour

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Posted by on in Community, Personal Values, Poetry

March 22, 2016, Prescott-

Bruxelles, mon amour,

I hear your screams

As the hosts of tyranny

Hose your streets with blood.

You welcomed me warmly,

Giving a festival of peace,

French, Flemish, Algerian,

Standing side by side,

As the games of comradeship and hope,

Played out, in front of my eyes.

Paris, mon amour,

I recall your sons and daughters,

Taking time out of their frenetic days,

To help an oft bewildered Americain

Find my way across your arrondissements,

With nary a hint of hauteur, in their demeanours.

Rouen, ma cherie,

I think of all you endured,

As the scene of travesty,

When the Light of All France

Was immolated,

Just a stone’s throw from where

My paternal ancestors were first blessed.

Damascus, my friend,

I have not had the honour of your presence.

Yet, I hear and feel your anguish,

And, yes, I know these horrors are

Not what you wish,

For yourself, nor for the cities

Which weep alongside you.

All my friends and beloved ones,

Know the horrors and cruelty,

Will pass, must pass.

Soon comes the day,

Which will not be followed

By night.