Hoblitzelle Afternoon

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January 11, 2026- Sunday brings with it a commitment to clean my bathroom(done) and do my laundry (after I write this post). Hana time was plentiful today, but as any grandparent of a newborn knows, it could have been more. There is no task that is “not my job”, when it comes to our little girl’s well-being.

With the baby fed and asleep, and my personal space in order, I took some time, this afternoon,. to visit the western edge of our neighbourhood park: Hoblitzelle. The park was named for Karl and Esther Hoblitzelle, philanthropists in the Dallas area during the 1940s and ’50s. It has a short set of trails, on either side of Alma Road, in east Plano. Most of the trails are paved, and being a Great Plains environment, mostly flat.

Still, the sense of nature is quite fulfilling, and I will be glad to bring Hana there, frequently, once she is ambulatory and can enjoy playgrounds and the views of Russell Creek.That’s a year or two off, so, in the meantime, this will be one of the places I frequent, in order to get in some hikes.

Oaks at rest, Hoblitzelle Park, Plano
A short, broad trail, Hoblitzelle Park
Another oak at rest, Hoblitzelle Park
Mirror images, in Russell Creek, Hoblitzelle Park
Lingering colours, along Russell Creek
Limestone and tree debris, Russell Creek
Russell Creek flowing northward
Small fishing pond, south end of Hoblitzelle Park

So went my first of many visits to Plano area parks.

Edith Renfrow Smith

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January 10, 2026- She largely minded her own business, focusing on getting an education-even in the aftermath of Plessy vs.Ferguson, and then on educating others, for over forty years, and being vindicated by the decision in Brown vs. Board of Education. Edith Renfrow Smith was a product of small town Iowa, and in fact was the only African-American at her school in Grinnell and the first at its highly-regarded college, which she graduated in 1937. Edith died yesterday, in her adopted home of Chicago. She was 111.

Mrs. Smith was a mentor to the great jazz pianist, Herbie Hancock, who was her neighbour in Chicago. She gently encouraged him to attend Grinnell College, which he did, turning a dual interest in engineering and music into a career of innovation in piano jazz. She also met several prominent Black-Americans, from Gwendolyn Brooks to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., during her years in Chicago.

I look at the lives of people like Mrs. Smith, who welcomed guests into her home, almost until the day she passed, as examples of how one can live life to the full, through a mix of civic engagement and maintaining a modicum of privacy. As the granddaughter of a runaway slave who himself built a new life in the free state of Iowa, she found a love for education and self-improvement were instilled in her. She passed those on to her two daughters and to her grandchildren. She also passed along the philosophy of greeting everyone with a smile. It was important to her that this small act was the basis for making the world a better place.

The balance set forth by Mrs. Smith is as fine a model to follow into advanced age, as any I have seen.

Wondering about Clouds

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January 9, 2026- In my early evening time with Hana, she was gazing up at the clouds and the tree in our front yard. The big upper windows allow plenty of room for a child to look up and out, especially when wrapped in the safety of loving arms. I told her about how clouds give trees life-giving water, just like we are feeding her life-giving milk. She continued to look at the scene outside. Her pre-lingual brain is, no doubt, saving images, with repeat observation and hearing similar words with regard to what she sees.

I wonder, too, about clouds, though of a different kind. The mental clouds we use to “shield” ourselves from the reality of things outside or even from our own shadow selves-misgivings, shrill self-condemnation, lack of impulse control, can be useful in the sense of giving time to process those negative elements and let them flow out. Held on too tightly, they can be energy-sapping and unnecessarily limiting.

That is the wisdom of nature: Clouds come, drop their load of rain or snow, and move along-so long as we,in our rush to make a profit or craving to hold onto ideas that have lost their efficacy, do not continue with policies and behaviours that interrupt the water cycle. Nature ebbs and flows well enough on its own. We have the choice of learning to flow with it, as many ancient cultures did, or of acting in arrogance and trying to supersede the natural rhythm.

Thumb Rockets

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January 7, 2026- “Let me show you a trick that your granddaughter will think is the stupidest thing she ever saw”, the new friend from McKinney said over lunch at a local deli. He proceeded to have me wrap a piece of paper around my thumb, and twist it to make a little “hat” for the thumb. He’s right; I think Hana would roll her eyes at that part, when she is about eight or nine. He then had me make an OK sign with my other thumb and forefinger, put it around my wrapped thumb and pull the thumb out of the paper, but in such a way that it made the paper go up and out- a thumb rocket.

D is an interesting man who has not had an easy life. That puts him in good company with a number of people I’ve known over the years. The difference is, he’s made mostly good choices, from the time he was a child. Growing up in the north of this Metroplex, when it was a long ways from being a Metroplex, he’s seen it all happen. Still, as I watched, the farmer in him caught a small rat by the tail and disposed if it in a way that a man who has plowed through hard knocks for eight decades would do without batting an eyelash. (No, that was NOT in the deli).

Time with a good ole boy is spent in a way similar to how time is spent with a First Nations person, a nomad of the Negev, or a campesino anywhere in the Southwest or Mexico. The watch stays hidden, because schedules don’t matter. D told stories of his childhood and his large family. A lot of his experiences mirror those of my male elders. Farm life is a great connector. After the nearly ninety-minute lunch, I drove around the area a bit, to ponder all that I had heard.

I will see D., and other local Baha’is, on a regular basis, so perhaps I will earn other “tricks” that will make my granddaughter alternately giggle and groan.

Two Platesful

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January 6,2026- Sportage is now a Texan. In this state, a vehicle is to have a license plate i front and one in back. The rear plate is easy to attach. The front will take a bit of professional installation, in a few days. In the meantime, there is, for good measure, a registration tag that sits inside the front windshield. Sportage will soon be two platesful. I will get my Texas driver’s license at the end of the month. Same with my voter ID.

I am again in the practice of eating three meals a day-each with one plateful. Our family is doing fairly well, and food is plentiful. I just don’t want my torso to become too plentiful.

Hana is now getting a bit more active, and wanting to stay awake more during the day. She wants to be with us during dinner, so one of us will start eating late and whoever finishes first will take over snuggling honours. She can see a shadowy figure of someone talking to her from the upstairs landing, as she is held by her grandmother on the downstairs couch.

There is a small garden plot, that Yunhee’s mother has cleared in the backyard. We can plant things like turnips and spinach, and I will need to build a fence that will keep the squirrels out, once the seeds are planted. We want to fill our bellies, not theirs. They have plenty of acorns.

That’s the news of the day from our cul-de-sac.

Communication

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January 5,2026- Hana doesn’t like the smell of peppermint oil. When I had it on my breath, after lunch, she put her hand up to her nose. That is one of the messages the little lady sends to those who are paying attention. It’s not all squalling and fussing. Her eye contact is minimal, yet, but she does follow the sound of noise in the room and has started looking up at me when I speak to her. Smiles are mostly for her father, but I have received a few.Cooing shows a general state of contentment.

We have reached a level of communication in our house that I only wish government would follow. If the reasonable wishes of a two-week old infant can be noted and respected by adults in the house, then how is it that the reasonable thoughts and opinions of a citizenry are seen as little more than an impediment to the important affairs of a nation-or even a community (Austin, TX comes to mind, as does Surprise, AZ, in terms of executive hubris towards the public). There are many other examples, from top to bottom.

Hana will speak her mind, with increasing eloquence, as the years progress. She may be off base at times, and one of us will correct her, but she will never be told that she is out of order and needs to be silent. Communication goes two ways, which is something that so often gets forgotten, by those at the top of their respective heap.

A Little Bottle

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January 4, 2026- It was my turn to feed Hana her “lunch” bottle of pumped milk. The focus is in developing her posture and promoting good digestion, so I supported her in an upright position. At the halfway point, she let up and we walked around a bit, while I burped her and told her about all the good things that will be outside, when she gets old enough to go out in a stroller, and afterward. A few minutes later, we sat back down and she finished the bottle.

She has started to look around, especially trying to find her maternal grandmother, who has been the strongest presence in her life, besides her parents. Of course, at two weeks, she can see mostly large figures and bright colours. The voices, though, are what are the easiest to identify. Those little eyes, though, have started to search.

I will be an increasing presence in Hana’s life, especially after Halmoni goes back to Korea, at month’s end. There are other things to do in the interim, mostly getting my vehicle registered in Texas and changing my driver’s license to the Lone Star state as well. Planet Fitness is a mile from here, so I just have to convince them to accept the same e-mail that I used at the Prescott club. It seems silly to have to have a special e-mail, solely for a gym membership, but technology can be ludicrous at times. Other aspects-Red Cross, Farmers Market, American Legion and the Baha’i Center, will need to be visited this week. The bank, the VA and chiropractic will round things off.

The little girl, and her little bottle, will be the most important parts of my life, for months to come.

The Penske Chronicles, Day 7

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January 1, 2026, Plano- Yes, I am at new Home Base. Purposefully driving from Memphis, TX, by memory, I got here in time to go with Aram and unload the moving van at a storage facility in the area. That turned out to be an adventure in itself.

First, we went to one of the company’s many facilities in the Plano area, and got my account completed, with the help of an agent, over Facetime. However, it turned out to be the wrong facility. The correct one was not far away, though, and by taking 10 loads, we were able to get all that was not immediately necessary to the house, into the storage unit.

The rest is now in the house and the moving van can finally be returned tomorrow morning. I am now 90% settled, and the residency part will be accomplished over the next three or four business days. That, however, is a chronicle of a different sort.

Happy 2026, one and all!

The Penske Chronicles, Day 6

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December 31, 2025, Memphis, TX- I woke this morning, no longer being an actual resident of Arizona-for the first time since March 1, 1992. It does not feel strange, or saddening, or melancholic. Most likely, it’s all the circumstances of this move. Being a grandfather is an amazing feeling-as those who have arrived here before me know all too well.

After a light breakfast at Red Roof Inn, I checked the bed of the moving van and found nothing amiss, after yesterday’s drive from Prescott to Gallup. I drove to Grants, bought some ice for the two coolers, and again found nothing out of order. My chock-a-block packing job is working-keeping everything low to the floor saves items toppling onto one another.

A lunch and refueling stop in Moriarty brought a satisfying meal served by a cheerful young lady named Hope. Her demeanour contrasted with that of the dour, petulant gas counter clerk, but one can’t have all sweetness and light.

The rest of the drive across New Mexico and the Texas Panhandle was serene, and I arrived here, in a town named for a mistaken address. A letter intended for Memphis, TN was sent to Texas. When a clergyman living in the area saw it, he decided to recommend that the locality actually be named Memphis. The idea was accepted, enthusiastically by a majority of the residents, and Memphis, Texas was born.

So, I am seeing 2025 out the door, in this quiet little namesake of a musical powerhouse. Rock Inn Cafe, where I had dinner this evening, was showing a montage of New Year’s Eve music fests-including New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, which gave the establishment its name. There were few people in the restaurant, but the food was good. I will likely go back there tomorrow, for breakfast, before heading off to the Metroplex and Home Base.

Happy New Year, Asia, Oceania, Australia, Africa, Europe, South America and the eastern third of North America! We will all catch up with you, shortly.

The Penske Chronicles, Day 5

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December 30, 2025- Everything happens according to a blend of the needs and wants of those involved. I had a lot of downtime today, but while I waited for the DAV furniture crew, necessary calls to utilities were made, and I cleaned out the long-ignored storage shed in the carport. Lesson learned: Don’t let stuff from ten or fifteen years ago just sit, unattended. Most of it was in fairly good condition. Some was given to my dear friend, Melissa. Other items were happily claimed by my landlord, and a few things went to recycling or to the landfill.

The cleaning lady came on time and worked in the back, as it was cleared out. The furniture to be donated to Disabled American Veterans sat in the front room with me, while waiting for the movers to pick up. Melissa came in mid-afternoon, selected what she could use, and as she was ready to leave, lo and behold-there were Mo and Grant, ready to roll out the items the DAV could sell, and graciously take the other items to the dump-for a slight fee. Robert and I took care of the rest.

I had to forego both lunch with my hiking buddy and Feast at two Baha’i friends’ home, but this clear-out is done. I do not feel any wistfulness or sadness, leaving Prescott. Life is going forward, and I with it. The most precious beings in my life wait in Plano, my new Home Base and the place where I will settle by the end of this week. 2025 is coming to a close, but first, I will get to Gallup for the night.