December 4, 2025- While mostly enjoying a gathering this afternoon, I got the sense that two of the higher-ranking people, in the group with which I have been involved, were not exactly thrilled with my decision to leave the area. A mutual friend said that was off the mark and that the management is actually supportive of my decision and is happy for me. One of the administrators hugged me before leaving, so my reading of the room was not quite on point.
One of the things that has indeed held me back, over the years, is a difficulty in reading people. I came to the conclusion, a while back, that oftentimes when I sense hostility or dislike from someone else, it is more a matter of how I am feeling about myself at the time. Many, if not most, people are neutral-to-supportive. Very few, actually, are hostile-and even if they are, the question begs, “Do I reflect something they don’t like about themselves?
I went to another gathering, this evening, putting these ideas to the test. A person who I previously had considered hostile was actually quite agreeable, jovial. Most of the people at the gathering were engaging and took an interest in one another. I felt at home, and recognized that any tension inside myself right now is likely processing the matter of leaving a place that has been home for fourteen years, and a state that has been home for all but six of the past forty-seven years.
It’s best to let the feelings flow, and know that all will be well, in the weeks to come and in the years that follow. I am getting better, at reading the room.
December 2, 2025, Winslow, AZ- A friend who thinks deeply about the course of human behaviour made a cogent point today- People who often get assessed as being “broken” or “lost” are more often creatures of dependence. They seek approval or guidance from those they view as more powerful or worthy of control over their affairs, and leave their own power on the sidelines.
Through my life, I have often been right, when I trusted my gut and my heart. The bloopers, which have also been many, have come when I tried to “honour” requests or demands made by those who I, erroneously, deemed “heavy hitters”, “hard chargers”, or more adept at life than yours truly. They came when I absorbed their insults and diatribes into my own psyche. Mathematically, this translates into (Dependence) X (Sycophancy)= Self-defeat.
Here is what I would like to see increased: Each person takes stock of how the gut feels, how the heart feels and how those feelings are in sync with common sense, before deciding upon a course of action and certainly before carrying it out. Committing myself to these has definitely decreased the number, and severity, of bloopers that cause so much pain and annoyance to me and to those around me.
This morning, I had a brief urge to go from Tucumcari to Pecos National Historic Site-which would have been a two-hour, thirty-five minute diversion. Gut told heart that there is simply much to be done back in Prescott, once I return there tomorrow. When the turn northward, towards Pecos, presented itself, I kept on driving west, and other than a brief stop at Continental Divide, continued on until I decided that a Winslow break was in order. Top notch birria tacos, at Shorty’s and a night’s stay in The Beatles Room, at Delta Motel, the music-themed inn that is one of my favourites have helped set the tone for the rest of my return to Prescott and getting started on the month of transition ahead.
As for the exploration of New Mexico and other areas, I am looking forward to helping, slowly and gradually, introduce the world and its beauty to my grandchild.
December 1, 2025, Tucumcari- My friend sat across from me, in a crowded coffee shop, on the west side of Amarillo. He referred, a couple of times, to things he’d seen on Tik-Tok, a medium he finds amusing. A few minutes later, he told of posts on said medium that he found revolting.
I have never been a fan of Tik-Tok,nor of Snap Chat, Reddit or any other medium that relies, for its existence, on mass, conformity-based consumption of whatever drivel the worst among its contributors serves up, particularly in the form of “challenge”. Whoever dreamed up the nightmare that was “Tide Pod Challenge” (before Tik-Tok, in fairness) deserves to be consigned to the scrap heap of historical opprobrium. Its successors, some of which have found their way to Tik-Tok (i.e. Jam Jar Pulse Jet), likewise deserve nothing short of universal condemnation, for the resulting harm they cause both those who attempt them and their loved ones who are left to pick up the pieces of the person(s) left in relative ruin.
Tik-Tok could have become the purveyor of presentations that elevate humanity, the way Wikipedia and, for the most part, TED Talks and You Tube have become. Instead, we have the media promoter of the ethos that is reflected in that most odious of sentiments, “It’s better than Crack!” End of rant.
The day was, all in all, very nice. I bid farewell to my little family, for a few weeks, then found it fairly easy to exit Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. The drive along Northwest Passage was easy, and I found my lunch stop, Valley Pecans, rather deserted. Somehow, I was about the first customer at that lovely cafe-emporium, and was, thankfully, followed by about a dozen other people. It was Noon, so high time for travelers to surface.
After my visit with friend, Wes, In Amarillo and a fuel stop, I made it to this high desert gem, taking this room at Rodeway Inn and heading to Del’s Diner, one of Tucumcari’s best. Del’s has been around since 1966, and the crowds, such as the one there tonight, are proof of its excellence. Martha and crew treated everyone special, tonight. The regulars attest that this is no fluke. It’s how the crew is every day, every meal. Viva Del’s; viva Tucumcari!
November 30, 2025, Grapevine- My sole tasks today were recording measurements of two rooms in the Plano house, using the Notes application on my i-Phone, and doing my laundry. It was not a hard day. Son had to navigate traffic across the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, as he does almost every day. He had the harder job. There is a fair number of unfocused, impetuous motorists here, as there are in nearly every major city on the planet. He got the job done just fine.
Much of the difficulty facing the human race has come from one or more people, in any given situation, becoming distracted. There are plenty of diversions competing for anyone’s attention, at any given time of the day: Sunrises and sunsets; cute animals; cute babies; text messages; phone calls; road accidents; attractive members of the opposite sex; billboards; alluring announcements on the radio or streaming device; even someone riding a horse on the side of the road. The tasks, though, remain the same: Drive safely; pay attention to the person in front of you; finish what you start.
I think of this, as I plan out one of the most tightly-choreographed months in quite a while. Not since July, 2011 have I had to face a sea change in my living situation. It will need to be done carefully, and attentively, both because of time frame and because the feelings of so many people, who mean a great deal to me, need to be kept in mind. The most important, of course, are my little family. Others also matter, and so December will see lots of hugs and handshakes and “Thank you for being my friend, all these years.” The saving grace, in each instance, is the continuity offered by social media.
All I can promise anyone is that I will stay on point, and get the tasks of transition done, to the every best of my ability, doing justice for all concerned.
November 22, 2025- His voice cracking, and eyes starting to well, R stopped and recovered himself, then continued on with his account of the past five months, since I saw him last. R is one of the friends I will miss after leaving Prescott. He and his wife were among the first to welcome me, in 2011. Their restaurant is one of the mainstays of my life here, once a week, for breakfast or lunch. The shenanigans of the staff or of the locals that sit at the counter are always a hoot. I listened with rapt attention and reflective comments, as R filled me in on his so far successful fight for life. I want to see people win those kinds of battles.
Getting back to Home Base I, I arranged for the delivery of a piece of furniture that I have had re-upholstered. It had been in almost too sorry a condition to even invite people over. Now, it is in beautiful shape and I will be proud to hand it off to someone who needs a nice piece of furniture for their living room. As it happened, the delivery man’s schedule conflicted with my usual stint at Farmers Market, but as my cosmic advisor said of today-“It is a day to go with the flow, when life interrupts routine.” Delivery man and his helper were meticulous in bringing the piece in and getting it in place. They took their time folding their blankets and putting everything back in place.
I went to Farmers Market, anyway, and finding the crew dealing with a long line of vendors, I took care of cleaning and putting away the folding chairs and tables, then made headway in taking down at least some of the tents. It was then time for Baha’i Feast, so I left the nonetheless grateful crew, who by that time were finished with the vendors.
Feast was a cozy affair. We had our devotions and talked of community matters, then planned next month’s activities and enjoyed refreshments. This little community is also a group of people I will miss, having collaborated with them continuously for fourteen years, and having known many of them from our residence here in 1992 and 2000-01. The Baha’i Faith has only been an impetus for my positive growth as a human being.
Finally, I spent the evening at Raven Cafe, enjoying a light dinner and the music of a favourite local band, The Cheektones. Don and the boys have a knack for getting people up an dancing. I occupied an old wooden chair and had the company of a few friends of the band. After about 1 1/2 hours of bouncing in my seat, I got up and joined the dancing to the last two songs. Before I did so, the guys played a song that summed up today, and many days in my life: “Love and Mercy”, the Brian Wilson song from 1988. Here is an earlier performance by The Cheektones, from Prescott’s Summer Music on the Square series.
This is the last of my “two posts a day”, game of catch-up on this blog site. It has been sometimes a challenge, to find a theme for a given day, but from my readership, it seems there are plenty of you who identified with at least some of what has happened here, since my return from Europe.
November 5, 2025- Some things never seem to change. Two little girls decided to shut out their more officious row-mate, after she called attention to something they supposedly said. I have two thoughts on reporting vs. tattling. On the one hand, I thoroughly believe that children should be seen, heard and believed. The days when only adults were allowed to speak are, mercifully, long gone. On the other hand, not being naive, I know that children, being human, can also be wrong-in their assessment or even in their intentions. A child’s frame of reference is most likely limited by the brevity of their life experiences. Nevertheless, I listened carefully to her report, and equally carefully heard their side, not assessing blame or credit to either.
As it happened, we were starting what is called “Centers”, where students rotate among different activities in the classroom. So, the two girls went to one area and the third occupied herself in drawing and reading. They later were all collaborating on another activity, the earlier dispute seemingly set aside. The regular teacher returned shortly afterward, and I was on my merry way.
We can be very funny about hanging onto bad exchanges with others. I learned a long time ago that grudges are like dead weights. The kids who came across as bullies, in my younger days, were all different. Early on, I decided to look at them individually. The good-hearted boy who was always on my case about one thing or another became the man who was earnestly interested in my well-being. The troubled kid who was constantly trying to beat up others was, as I later witnessed, terrified by others who were stronger and meaner than he. The duo who harassed other kids, by riding up to them on their bikes and taking things, later became men who found themselves being targeted by more nefarious grifters. Holding grudges would have weighed me down. I’m glad to have moved on.
Hopefully, the very competent regular teacher will handle any ongoing tension between the three girls and their different personalities will find a way to mesh, over the years.
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 1, 2025, Vienna- Up early enough, I got to Oscwiecim’s small train station and caught the train back to Krakow, only to boomerang right back past the station, as we made our way down to Vienna. I had a seat, clear to the Austrian capital, going through southern Poland and the Czech Republic. It was a long ride, though, as you can imagine, and I was ready for the mattress by the time we crossed the Danube and got into town. Somehow, I read, and re-read, the message from my lodging, and saw one too many codes for that hour of night. It also indicated that it was past time for check-in (“Office closes at 8 p.m.”, and it was 10:15.)
These things happen a lot, and yes, the train was delayed for about forty minutes. Still, I was frustrated at not getting to the Baha’i National Centre in Vienna, this evening, and at what seemed to be one too many Internet-centric snags, in connecting with the lodging. Besides, they didn’t answer their phone, which is supposedly on 24/7. End of rant.
I got a briefing on Vienna’s excellent public transportation system and found my way to Radisson Red Vienna. I am usually not partial to high-end hotels, but I was exhausted and besides, this was Vienna. So, the welcoming desk clerks got a guest with no reservation, and I got a very refreshing place at which to not have to enter codes.
A gowned angel watched over me, at Radisson Red, Vienna
September 30, 2025, Oswiecim, Poland– Today would have been Penny’s 71st birthday. Each year since I first met her, including the fourteen years since her passing, the day always brings a special event, either Baha’i teaching or a visit of significance.
Entrance to Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum
Today, I had the opportunity to visit the sites of one of the darkest chapters in human history. Auschwitz and Birkenau were concentration camps, separated by 3 kilometers, but under the same commander: The infamous Rudolf Hoss (not to be confused with Deputy Fuhrer Rudolf Hess), implemented the use of Zyklon B, a pesticide that became the nerve agent which alone killed a million people. Hoss was tried, convicted and executed in Poland, in 1947. (Rudolf Hess, as is well-known, flew to Scotland, believing he could convince Scottish “opponents” of the War to hasten British withdrawal from World War II. The Scots were not amused, Hess was imprisoned and then transferred to Germany’s Spandau Prison, in 1947. He was the sole remaining prisoner there, when he committed suicide, in 1987, at age 93.)
My late father-in-law was a Jewish-American, served as a soldier in the final months of World War II, during which he was captured during the tail-end of the Battle of the Bulge, and was held in the POW camp at Berga, in eastern Germany. I have been to Berga and seen the V-2 Rocket Factory’s remains. Pop was sent to work the salt mines. When he was rescued by a unit of American soldiers, in June, 1945, he was nearly skeletal.
That was the fate of many, if not most, of the survivors of Auschwitz and Birkenau, as well. They numbered about 6200, out of over 1,100,000 who had been held in at the Auschwitz Complex. Jews, who Hitler and his henchmen wanted above all to exterminate, were the preponderance of victims. Men between the ages of 17-60 were made to work, usually until they were broken, physically and mentally. They were then executed. Women, children, the elderly and the infirm, including the mentally ill, were summarily gassed to death.
Besides the Jews, Romany, Russians, Poles, Czechs, Freemasons and the occasional Afro-Germans, were also sent to concentration camps, and executed by poison gas. Auschwitz and Birkenau were the two largest facilities for such hideous practices. in time, even Christian critics of Hitler found themselves in the gas chambers. Birkenau, being the larger camp, had 30 gas chambers. Auschwitz, with four sectors, had ten. As the Soviet forces closed in on Auschwitz, the fleeing German Army forced most of the remaining prisoners west, on a Death March to Germany and Austria. Thus did many die on their feet, though not as many as were gassed.
Here are five scenes that are here to remind us that the Holocaust was no Hologram.
“Barracks” # 1, AuschwitzTorture House,, AuschwitzWomen and children victims, on their way to the gas chambers. (They had been told they were on their way to a glorious new life.)Discarded children’s shoes and a father’s suitcase, with his son’s name written on it.Hana Reiner would not let herself be forgotten. https://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=139212The Nazis themselves destroyed this barracks, rather than allow it to be preserved by the Soviets and Poles,for what it had been,
I thought back to the early morning, when I boarded a train in Krakow, bound for the city of Oswiecim, (the Polish name which was translated into German as Auschwitz). A mentally disabled man chose to sit across from me. He was an Italian, who had little vocabulary, in any language. He knew “English” and “Deutsch”, as well as a few words in Italian and Spanish. While he was annoying to the young man sitting by the window and the well-dressed Italian man who sat across the aisle, I let him show me the soccer games on his phone. At the end of the one-hour trip, he cheerfully said “Grazie!” and went on his way.
That gentle man would not have had a chance to ride the rails, in Hitler’s Germany. He’d have ended up in the pile of corpses found by the Russians, or in one of the piles of ashes that were dumped in the Vistula River or behind the Subcommandant’s House at Birkenau. He can ride the rails, as he pleases, in today’s Europe, not being harmed and harming no one,
Auschwitz-Birkenau, and all places like it, are needed reminders of exactly what levels of depravity can come from a deluded pursuit of false perfection.
September 28, 2025, Krakow– “Where do I get the train to Krakow?”, I asked a conductor, after getting off the train that had brought me from Berlin to Poznan, in western Poland. “Go downstairs to Platform 10.”, was all she said. Many European train platforms have two tracks, which go in directions opposite each other. This reduces the need for multiple platforms, each with a track that only goes one way. I knew this, but looking at my watch, seeing it was close to departure for the Krakow train and seeing a train that lots of people were getting off and on, I put two and two together and got…five.
When I got to the cabin which had my seat number, I found it was occupied by a family of four, with the younger son in “my” seat. I went out of the cabin and was met by an older Polish woman, who “knew” that was my seat “by rights”. We got underway, with me in standage, where I was chatted up by a couple, who were happy that someone from Arizona was visiting Poland. The husband asked to look at my ticket, and gasped. “You go north now, instead of south! You must get off at next station, and catch train back to Poznan, then good luck getting to Krakow!” That explained the young boy sitting in his rightful seat.
I got off at the next station, reversed course, got on a Krakow-bound train from Poznan, and took my place among university students and poorer older adults, in Standage, all the way to Krakow, five hours south. Of course, I didn’t stand the whole way. I had my rolling suitcase, and a relatively clean section of floor on which to sit. When people needed to get on or off, at the ensuing stations, we in Standage had to make room for them. This made a few of the students quite surly-but surely they know this is part of the deal. Most, though, seemed concerned for one another, on a couple of occasions consoling those who were openly distraught. Not speaking Polish,I kept my mouth shut, the whole way, and was “welcomed” by the conductors, none of whom were concerned with why I was there.
I got to Krakow around 11 p.m. and caught a taxi to Meininger Hostel, part of a chain of hotels and hostels across central Europe. It is a lovely establishment, and while the city itself is rather tired of mass tourism, I was cheerfully welcomed by those I encountered on the street and at the hostel. I had the room to myself for the night, as the young man who was to be my roommate had his own tale of train woe and would not be arriving until early tomorrow morning. Thus, another decent end was found, to a strange day.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 