November 10, 2025- I was thirty-five minutes out from Bellemont, when I got the message that the plumber was “on his way”. Knowing that two other people were already on site, I continued on towards the property. Once on the access road, I spotted the plumber’s truck and one other car ahead of me. Plumber turned onto a neighbouring development, so I followed the second car to Bellemont and four of us waited for the plumber to get his bearings.
The winterization process, for a property that will see minimal use during the off-season, involves draining the water tanks, pipes and hoses. Plumber had to “blow out” the tanks and pipes, to prevent against freezing that would lead to rupture. This property is in an area that gets more snow than even Flagstaff, a scant fifteen miles to the east, so no precaution is too extreme.
I will need to “winterize” my friendships with people in Home Base I, and in the Philippines, given that my life plans have changed. Immediate family has to come first, so whatever is necessary to avoid rupture, by way of transparency and honest, direct interest in what is going on in friends’ lives will have to suffice-until the day when I can spend time with them again. Making the most of remaining time here, and possibly going to “the Phils”, between the time of my grandchild’s birth and the day that I am needed permanently in Texas, will alleviate things somewhat.
November 8, 2025- Her voice carrying the strength of a gale force wind, Ember captivated those of us sitting in a half-filled room, for two hours of acoustic magic. She sang of the power of wonder, the animating force behind the songs that have brought her, and the band called Lake Francis Case (after a favourite vacation spot of her childhood), a seminal place in Prescott’s vibrant music scene. The group has relied upon live concerts, both with the full five members and the acoustic trio, for its appeal to audiences around Arizona. They will finally complete an album of recorded music, in the next several months.
Being able to wonder at things has largely powered my own life, even through adulthood. I don’t think I’d still be alive, if I gave in to jadedness or quotidian thinking. There is just too much that is magical in life, and worthy of being seen through almost child-like eyes. I guess that is what has kept me active, up early each morning, so often exploring both natural and urban settings. It has also kept me reading and seeking more information about various aspects of all layers of the world, of the Universe.
Curiosity has occasionally gotten me into trouble, but that difficulty has usually been short-lived, and as can be seen, I’m still here, no worse for the wear. There is, after all, so much more to be explored and to be learned. Wonder escapes those who sit still.
November 7, 2025- I went to a quiet place, this morning, instead of dropping in at the crowded, delightful and noisy jam fest that takes place each Friday morning.. As time moves on, I am finding that where I go, on a given day, matters little to anyone outside a small group. That’s probably how it’s always been, as in the verse of an old song, “Most folks just go their way, don’t pay me any mind.”
Sitting in Century Lounge, I drew cursory attention from a couple of small children. I smiled at each and went back to my writing, which was the main reason I wanted relative quiet this morning. The rest of the patrons were busily involved with business, politics or affairs of the heart.
As the day progressed, there were signs that the situation on the national level might be resolved, sort of, sometime next week. For now, though, the transportation piece of that situation leaves me little choice but to drive out and back, over Thanksgiving. I generally think that the right thing will happen. It just takes time to sort out all the egoism and perceived “need” that emanates from the human psyche.
Tonight, I spent some time on a Zoom call, from which I have been absent for several weeks. My presence was briefly acknowledged, then the regulars went about their business and I stayed on as an observer. It was a nice hour, though, as three wonderful children came on as participants, getting the support they deserved from the regulars.
Things that matter most in life are what usually end up transpiring.
November 6, 2025- The talk, other than about Blood Drives, trailer reorganizations and the entry in Prescott’s upcoming Veterans’ Day Parade, was regarding my pending move to Texas. My Red Cross associates are, in a pleasant surprise, fully on board with it. I have been with the local RC organization since 2012, so ties to the group are strong. Nonetheless, the most important thing to most Red Cross staffers and volunteers is family. To a one, those meeting in Prescott today expressed happiness at the upcoming arrival of my grandchild.
These next eight weeks or so will therefore be very much concerned with letting go of household furniture, a good many books and some other items that have accumulated over the past fourteen years. Another family member who made a similar move, a few years back, has,by example, given me a roadmap ( no pun intended) for this move to be done efficiently and successfully.
In the middle of it all comes Thanksgiving, and we will celebrate it in Grapevine, while looking ahead to spending next year in a house, instead of an apartment. I will drive out there and back, largely because of the uncertainty that still hangs over the airline industry, due to the government shutdown. My diamond jubilee will be the day after Thanksgiving, and besides, the three of us have so much for which to be grateful. Not the least of it is the arrival of family member # 4. I already feel a very deep love, not explicable to anyone who is not themselves a grandparent.
So, my plan is to spend 2-3 days each way on the road, and repeat the process just before Christmas, weather permitting.
November 4, 2025- The scene in the large room was one of purposeful and laser-focused organization. My entry into the room was almost seen as an intrusion, but I was there as an ambassador. The Red Cross has a program in which volunteers greet prospective blood donors, sign them in and usually offer them water or juice and healthy snacks. This is called the Blood Ambassador program.
Once the equipment was set up, my tools and name tags were brought over. I was informed that the nursing staff would be responsible for the snacks and water. This seemed to be more a function of the layout of the room than any systemic change, so I didn’t worry much about it.
The event was an outreach to the Yavapai-Apache people near Camp Verde, and was held at a lodge near Cliff Castle Casino. The facility is basic, but comfortable, and the day proceeded with little trouble. Those who had signed up, but were no shows, due to today being their day off, were outweighed by those who were walk-ins. Thus, the day was deemed a success. The First Nations people were appreciative that the phlebotomists and nurses had come from Phoenix and I, from Prescott.
Our area Red Cross has made considerable efforts to reach out to communities that have historically been marginalized. The small First Nations bands, like the various Yavapai-Apache communities and other rural areas, such as villages on the remote Arizona Strip, between the Grand Canyon and southern Utah, have been a more conscious focus of our Northern Arizona District. This has partially been a silver lining to the horrific Dragon Bravo Fire of this past summer and early autumn and partially due to a stronger local organization, that is not dependent mainly on resources from larger cities, such as Phoenix or Albuquerque.
One of my greatest joys in life is seeing ties built and made stronger. I hope, in the time I have left here, that this will only accelerate.
November 3, 2025- I revisited a small regular gathering today. One usually consistent attendee was conspicuously absent. It was explained to me that this person is on an inward journey and does not wish to be with anyone, for the time being. While this news is a bit disconcerting, I have to wish friend well.
I have rarely, if ever, ensconced myself in seclusion for very long. There was a period of time, after Penny passed (2011), when I kept a lot to myself, but there were always other people in the house and I never really felt like I was cocooning. In truth, though, old habits and ways of viewing the world, some of which I had held since adolescence, were being shed. Wrapped up in contemplation, I came out of that period, towards the end of 2014. During those three years, there were a few adventures and a couple of colossal missteps, that might have wrecked my life, and those of a few other people, but for the Grace of the Almighty.
We are each ever in a state of flux, with changing circumstances that could either propel us forward, or upend everything we know and cherish. Sometimes, life brings us a little of both. I see that this might be happening to said friend, and can only be a well-wisher. My own life, in the next six weeks, will see the conclusion of one great chapter and the beginning of another, perhaps grander. I will not be cocooning, though.
November 2, 2025- The meeting, held unusually on a Sunday, was going like clockwork. Out of the blue came a rash of cursing and threatening language. Those involved knew fully well that they were disrupting the meeting next door. They made it clear that they didn’t care-and further, that no one was going to tell them to stop arguing and leave the building.
The right to use foul language and disrupt business, however, seems to end three feet from one’s neighbour’s face. In a privately-owned facility, moreover, a person may be compelled to leave, at the discretion of the building’s owner, or her/his lawful representatives. This is what ended up happening today. The person responsible for keeping order in the meeting, aided by two other officers, escorted the four disquiet people out of the building. There was some discussion outside, but the four went their separate ways, apparently understanding that attracting the attention of the police was not in their best interests.
This is my own main argument for not letting alcohol, or any mind-altering substance, affect one’s ability to carry on with life. I was, at one time, a terrible drunk, and I will leave it at that. I seldom, if ever, though, threw my weight around. On the few occasions that I did so, I was readily called to account, and there are those in my past who are all too happy to remind me of that time when…. So be it. Life is a series of mishaps and, hopefully, of lessons learned.
As a society, though, we still have drug allusions that are used to extol the virtues of a legitimate food or beverage-i.e. “It’s better than crack”. Oh? How do you know about crack? The fact that such a horrible substance is seen in a positive light gives me the willies. Disquietude can be found in any nook and cranny of society. Dealing with it, rooting it out, takes fortitude-and persistent effort-the kind that does not allow for a positive view of an addicting substance.
October 31, 2025- The idea of staging our Post 6 Trick or Treat Table on the corner sidewalk “paid off” handsomely: At least a hundred people stopped by and partook of candy, which was distributed, for the most part, by the fistful. Tiny tots and babies were fairly present. No one was trick or treating with a costumed dog, so that is an improvement. Mostly, though, the revelers were between the ages of 7-70.
I barely missed the older, and less flamboyant, version of All Hallows Eve: Samhain, still widely celebrated by people in Ireland, Scotland, Isle of Man and some parts of Wales, is also celebrated by Wiccans in England and other countries. The gist of the day is to honour the dead and guard against malevolence. There was some costuming, also called “mumming”, and going door to door for food, but those were secondary to the above focuses. Bonfires were common on Samhain, in pre-Christian Britain and Ireland. Putting a candle inside a hollowed-out pumpkin was more a function of helping revelers find their way, on darkened streets. A hollowed out turnip was also used for this purpose. Dressing up as devils or ghouls is more of an aberration, in modern Halloweens, and would have been abhorred by the Celtic pagans.
I have observed Halloween, in a conventional manner, most years since I was six and could go about on my own. I recall that the plastic masks caused my face to sweat profusely, almost every year. By the time I was fourteen, I decided to give up trick or treating and focused more on handing out goodies. On my own, in places as sparsely populated as South Deerfield, MA and Toltec City, AZ, kids knocked at my door and were welcomed with treats. So, this year was no different and given the vibrant Halloween celebrations on Mount Vernon Street and Park Street, it is a joy to hand out treats at the American Legion post, as I’ve done every year that I’ve been in Prescott, since 2015. (Before that, my north Prescott house, then my apartment, were just too far off the beaten path for most revelers.)
Whatever one’s view of Halloween, let us honour our departed loved ones just as we do on Memorial Day or on their individual special days.
October 30, 2025- Rosie was as effervescent and perky a server as I’ve seen anywhere, gladly guiding me to a seat, for a late breakfast, at the fairly new Cowboy Kitchen. She and another young lady were taking turns as hostess and serving tables around the large, almost horseshoe-shaped, cafe that used to be called Lone Spur. It’s no Zeke’s, but Cowboy Kitchen is a new gem in town, thanks to the energetic young people who are running the show. The food is also quite good.
I am in a different situation now, simultaneously carrying on my Home Base routine and preparing to move to Texas, towards the end of December, to be with my little family, as our angel will arrive then. I’ve been told, by many, that grandparenthood is a sublimely beautiful experience. It will be for me; I can already feel it. It’s almost as if I already know her, even with two months remaining until she is born.
This is a mild, dry time of year, usually for two or three weeks, until the late autumn storms come, bringing with them the hint of what winter holds in store. This year, the atmospheric river may well visit the Southwest with a fair ferocity. For now, I will enjoy the moments that our late “Indian Summer” is bringing.
(I will be writing two posts per day, until the dateline of my post meets the actual date on which it is written. Stay tuned.)
October 27, 2025, Harlington, England- “Wonder of wonders! We actually have a train that stopped in York!” The solid lady, nearly out of breath, had just raced across the station in the historic northern English city, after the earlier train that she and her husband were planning to board was canceled. She told me that only the train between Edinburgh and King’s Cross, London has York as one of its stops and not all the time.
I bid mar sin leat to Edinburgh, finding my way easily to Waverley Station from the Victoria Street bus stop. The train to King’s Cross was right on time for departure, with stops at several north English and eastern Midlands cities. There were no stops in the south of Scotland, so our first was at Newcastle-on-Tyne. The only things I knew about the now fairly updated city were that it was not the place to be shipping coals (Tyneside was a major producer of the mineral) and it is the home of Eric Burdon and the Animals, a well-known ’60s band. Newcastle became the only place where I snapped a photo, on this leg of the journey. Here is the River Tyne.
River Tyne, south of Newcastle
Most of the rest of the trip featured tracks with high berms, factory districts and tunnels. York might have been an exception, but I was engaged in concern for the hapless fellow passengers who were trying to catch their breath. By the time all were settled and happy, the great cathedral had long passed from view.
I have rekindled an appreciation for couples, along this 7-week journey. I find most Europeans along the way are quite happy in their relationships. This has been true across generations. It was nice to see a relationship form on this train, as a Mexican gentleman sat next to a Filipina woman and engaged her in a lengthy conversation. They left the train at King’s Cross, hand in hand.
Once at King’s Cross, I followed instructions and sought the Elizabeth Line. An older couple from the Midlands were headed in that general direction, so I tagged along with them, and got on the line to Reading, which let me off at Hayes-Harlington. From the bus stop, I joined a group of college students who were headed to a hostel, just not to Apple Guest House, my lodging for the night. My trusty locator got me to the front door of Apple, only to have no one answer the door bell, nor was there any message with a numerical code.
Piffle! The only thing to do was go to dinner. So, back I went, backpack, roller case and all, to The Pheasant Inn, just up the street. The host had seen this situation before, and calmly seated me at an inside table, I fetched an N/A and the counter attendant took my meal order. He also gave me the WiFi password, the subtle hint being that now I should call Apple’s contact number and leave a message, at least. Perfect! Within minutes, I had a message that served up the numerical code for the front door. Dinner was excellent and the ambiance of The Pheasant was as welcoming and relaxing as any place I’ve been, these seven weeks.
When I got back to Apple Guest House, the door was open, as a food delivery man, who also lives there, had just returned from a run. I made my way upstairs, and settled in for the last night in Europe. Apple’s rooms are small but comfortable, so I promptly left my initial annoyance in the dust bin.
Tomorrow, a long flight will take me back to the lovely Southwest.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 