Safety First

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July 29,2024- It was once known as the “Loneliest Highway in America”; not any more.

Several times today, an “intrepid” driver would attempt to pass several vehicles, along Nevada’s long section of U.S. 95. Most had to be let back in, either a third or half-way through the queue, usually with an approaching semi-trailer truck as the impetus. At least the drivers had two things going for them: 1. They weren’t trying to pass on a a double yellow; 2. There was no ad-hoc scold trying to block them from re-entering the line.

Back in the day, we were taught not to try and pass anyone on a two-lane highway, unless there was at least a half-mile of visible clearance: No approaching vehicles on a straight shot; no curves or hills; no animals or road debris. That was still mostly in evidence, yesterday, but there were also the heat (not everyone has quality AC), schedules (“I need to be in Las Vegas by 5 p.m.!”) and cranky family members, who couldn’t be necessarily counted on to be patient until Eddie World, or Circus Circus, was reached. There was also the detour effect: Many travelers were on this route because I-5 and I-84 (the major north-south routes in the West) were closed in spots, due to raging wildfires. So, too was US 395, essentially from Mono Lake northward, due to the smoke from the Park Fire.

My route between Prescott and Carson City has usually followed U.S. 95, with several favoured stops in the routine. They were made today; Breakfast at Red Hut, on Carson’s south side; lunch (which doubled as supper) from Beans & Brews ( a small cafe run by students and staff from Tonopah High School), an ice cream break at Eddie World (Beatty’s answer to Buccee’s) and a gas pit stop at one of three stations in Metro Las Vegas. Others, like wildlife viewing at Walker Lake, checking in at the Alien Store, Amargosa and a meal at Westside Lilo’s, Seligman were foregone.

It has been a rewarding and affirming series of visits, even if not all problems were resolved to the satisfaction of everyone I visited, but life is a process, not an event, and I, albeit an eternal optimist, saw positivity.

Now my focus is largely on Home State matters, on downsizing at Home Base I and making sure all is ready for my 1-2 months across the Pacific.

Coming Together

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July 28, 2024, Carson City- Little Man wanted to learn the simple game, which other members of the family were playing. So, he was given a seat at the table and the process was explained very simply. He’s a bright child, so it didn’t take long, and he was fully participating in the game-actually doing quite well at it. Allowances were made for his attention span, so he came and went-taking care of other things that had his interest.

His older sister was involved in the game, and played more consistently. A household chore took her away from the table, and that was more than okay. Peace in any house depends upon respect, across the board. When it later came time for her to spend quality time with her father, as well, that took priority.

There was a calm and very civil air in the house today. I sense it has much to do with the departure of some rather troubled and uncivil neighbours. Toxicity can spread, almost unannounced, insidiously. It was the first time, in quite a while, that the head of the household felt comfortable working in his own back yard, and the relief was palpable. These are good people, who have much love to give to their children and to extended family.

We are each individuals and will always have a sense of separation from even those closest to us. At the same time, we need one another, and pretending otherwise just leads to an unnatural divide. Coming together requires respect, in both directions. Miscreants can be brought into the fold, but on the terms of those who are practicing virtuous behaviour, not the other way around. There is a story that an early Baha’i told, of a saintly man and a ruffian. The saintly one told the ne’er do well that he could help him turn into a respected member of society, “in a month’s time”. The thug replied, ” I can corrupt you, in less than a day.” Both were right, underscoring the need for virtues to be instilled in children, and modeled in a consistent manner, by all significant adult role models in their view. Fortitude and self-discipline are needed, in withstanding the temptations thrown out by such as the miscreant in the story.

I am relieved that the two children, who I love very much, will no longer have to endure the nefariousness next door-and that everyone will be able to show the love for one another that has never been far below the surface, even in times of tension. This has been a wondrous cap to a very fruitful journey. Tomorrow, I head back to Home Base I.

Getting Past Hiccups

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July 20, 2024, Tofino, BC- I will forever consider myself blessed, when it comes to family. I can talk with my son, any of my siblings and any in-laws, with no qualms or trepidation, at a moment’s notice.

So many friends don’t have that blessing. I have heard from friends, recently, about being cut off from adult children and siblings-most often not because of anything they did, but because of third-party interference. This may, or may not, be part of the story, or even the whole story. I know there are those who prey on disaffected youth and actively work to turn them against their parents. There is a special place in the world of retribution for such monsters, but I digress.

No one can turn a person against their loved ones, without that person’s consent. In the end, though, there is loneliness. Chances are, the manipulator won’t be there for the lost soul. The person who is disaffected from their parent(s) or their children will have outlived any usefulness to the predator-who is most often seeking power, in a neurotic manner. So often, the predator will use mainstream religion, or cult membership, to appeal to the prey. Only when the troubled soul wakes up and reconciles with those s(he) has cast out, can there be any chance for real recovery.

I thought about these things, whilst en route to the exquisite Pacific Rim, of west central Vancouver Island. Earlier in the day, after a marvelous rest at Turtle Hostel, in Victoria’s Hillside/Quadra district, I had pleasant meetings with two dear friends, and was glad to be able to offer them support. Regarding Hillside/Quadra, it is ringed by churches and Victoria’s Conservatory of Music-and as I mentioned in the last post, is a haven for unhoused people.

Alex Goold Performance Center, Victoria Conservatory of Music
Anglican Church of St. John the Divine, Victoria
First United Church, Victoria

Each of these institutions does what it can, to help its unhoused neighbours. As is the case back at Home Base, Prescott, there are soup kitchens and active efforts to clothe the people. There, but for the grace of God……

In the next post, I will focus on the cathedrals of a different sort: The majesty of the Pacific Rim and the edge of Clayoquot Sound, particularly in Tofino and Ucluelet. Here is an example:

Clayoquot Sound, Tofino

Owning Up

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July 18, 2024, Bellingham, WA- I went in the out door, so to speak, this morning. Parking with Sportage’s nose to the curb, in a “back-in” zone, I took two photographs of nearby buildings, got back in the car and carefully backed out, watching for any vehicles that might have come along-and which would have had the right of way. There were none, so on I went to Tacoma’s Old Town. I rarely, if ever, do such things, but have learned to not hide from judgment or ridicule, when they do happen.

Ownership of missteps is often absent, or only grudgingly done, in modern life. We fear judgment and ridicule, but you know they are going to come along, anyway. So, why fear, run or hide? I apologized to someone I love dearly, this evening, because it was the only thing to do, under the circumstances. Erich Segal was off-base, when he wrote “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” It is the first thing that someone who has heart must say, when a loved one is hurt. Apologizing to my late wife, to our son, to a beloved student or client, to a dear friend, has been de rigeur, when I go on a wrongful tangent.

Today, otherwise, was a fine day, partly spent in and around Tacoma’s Old Town and waterfront area, meeting with an old friend from Xanga, and her husband and patiently navigating the heavy traffic, from Federal Way to Mount Vernon. Seattle rivals any other major city, in the thickness and slowness of its major thoroughfares’ traffic. It is best to make do. Owning up also means pushing forward, without moaning about short-term circumstances.

Here are some scenes from Tacoma, an underrated gem of the Pacific Northwest.

Northern Pacific Office Building, City Center, Tacoma
Clock Tower, Old Tacoma City Hall
Job Carr’s Cabin, Old Town Tacoma

Job Carr was the first settler to make Tacoma his home, building this cabin in 1865. He got along quite well with the indigenous Puyallup community, and was well-known for navigating Commencement Bay, where he encountered whales and dolphins, whilst going back and forth to Puyallup, in his canoe.

Job came to the area because he thought the Burlington Northern Railroad would have its western terminus at the spot where he settled. When the BNR stopped two miles east of his cabin, he was rattled, but made do.

Burlington Northern railbed, near Commencement Bay
Commencement Bay, at Tacoma (above and below)

The afternoon found me back at another gem: The Muse, at the edge of Everett’s waterfront. I visited this lovely Victorian coffee house/bar, a year or so ago. This time, I was honoured to be joined by these fine folks:

Debra (“Ampbrea”) and Jeb Watts

I will not forget those friends from the 2000s and 2010s who stuck with me, even during the times when I “flaked out”.

Intolerance

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July 13, 2024, Carson City- It is as despicable as it was predictable: The attempt on the life of former President Donald Trump, thankfully unsuccessful, will do nothing to stem the flow of anger and hatred towards those who see life differently than the would-be assassin and those who think like him-or their anger and hatred in kind, as voiced by a member of the United States Senate-and even more ominously, by a “political adviser” who cited a list of 350 targeted “opponents”.

People are still entitled to vote their conscience, even if the majority of us vote differently. People are still entitled to speak their peace, even if their ideas come across as ridiculous to a good many others. People can think far ahead, or look longingly to the past. People can accept differences, or peacefully need more time to process change, before either accepting the changes or choosing to stay in their own bubbles.

What no one should claim the right to do is to deprive another citizen of the right to voice an opinion, or even to exercise violence towards that citizen. Today’s events are a cautionary tale-both to those who might view the dead assailant as some sort of hero and to those whose interpretation of the contents of Project 25 is that the document is a green light for returning to the days of Jim Crow and public lynchings.

America is a big tent. Let it never be shrunk to a pup tent, or lean-to.

Staying Wary

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July 2, 2024, Woburn, MA- A family member who is not known for tact tried to put me on the sidelines, in the middle of a conversation. I didn’t back away, which rankled him just a bit, but he didn’t push the issue. We’ve had our differences, now and then, but given that he is half my age, I try not to take things too much to heart.

In the past, particularly in my New England years, there was always a small inner circle, in any group with which I was involved. I was never part of that circle, even if there were only three of us. The other two just had a very strong bond, that either pre-dated my time with them, or was established while we interacted.

Only recently have I even had the level of self-confidence to call out those who sought to keep things tightly controlled or at least keep me on the outside of things. My siblings, thankfully, don’t subscribe to such exclusivity. Most of those with whom I interact now are no more exclusionary towards me than they are towards anyone else. Still and all, I am very wary of anyone who draws a circle around self, and makes sure that “the other”, even one to whom s(he) is related, doesn’t step inside.

I used to ascribe exclusionary behaviour to “American culture”, or “elitism”. Anymore, I associate it with insecurity or misplaced anger. No one can be totally accepting of all those around them, in the course of this life, but it stands to reason that moving away from small enclosed circles is mark of spiritual growth.

No Flight of Fancy

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June 26, 2024, Bedford, MA- The young lady looked both embarrassed and crestfallen, upon learning that her oversized luggage would not fit in an overhead bin. Apparently, it had fit on previous flights, but on this full flight, it was a no-go. She asked if the middle seat was taken, and hearing a “No”, dropped her carry-on item on the seat, brought the offending bag to the jet way, for check-in, and came back to take her seat. No further words were exchanged with anyone, until the end of the flight, when she joined another young woman (maybe a sister) and an older man (maybe her father). I heard her tell the man that “that woman just growled at me, when I was bringing the bag out.” Sad that, even when people do inconvenient things, that we can’t summon at least a modicum of grace.

My day began at 1 a.m., proceeding to the shuttle down to Phoenix at 2:30, a somewhat chaotic scene at TSA, which led to a group of us being sent to another TSA check-point, on the other side of the terminal-and an only slightly less chaotic scene. I have rather mastered the art of removing items that need to be placed in separate tubs, ahead of time, thus not being obtrusive to other passengers or to the officers. It worked nicely, this morning.

Once in St. Louis, I got brunch at Bagel Bakery, directly across from our gate. A message came, around Noon, saying the flight to Boston was delayed, so I just settled into Joseph Campbell’s “Myths of Light”, that much deeper. It turned out, though, that the message was in error, so I informed the gate clerk, who checked and found that the flight crew had made up for the late departure from San Diego and would be on time, after all.

We got into Boston, as scheduled, waited at baggage claim for about thirty minutes, and upon finding that Mom was still with us, I proceeded to the rental car center, via a suitably crowded mega bus. Budget’s office, inside the garage itself, was not crowded, and I was in my vehicle in short order. Then came getting out of the Airport. I had almost navigated the Logan Labyrinth, when the driver in front of me stopped, got out and threw away some trash, then got back in her vehicle and- just sat, looking over at me like she was at wit’s end. A MassPort officer came over, and directed me as to how to get the rest of the way towards Revere, then removed some cones that were between me and the actual road. I was out of Boston, five minutes later.

When I was a teenager, being able to navigate Bell Circle, in Revere, at rush hour was deemed a rite of passage by every older man who ever mentored a kid on the near North Shore. I managed, back then. Nowadays, Bell is a shadow of its former self, thanks to properly placed traffic lights and yield signs that are actually obeyed by those approaching them. I was at my Mom’s place of residence, twenty minutes after leaving Logan International Airport. The once terrifying Near North Shore traffic had lost its menace.

Mom was silent, but she opened her eyes, just a bit, and grasped my hand, as I spoke to her and kissed her forehead. Her breath and pulse are still discernible and I know she was able to hear us singing along to James Taylor’s and Carole King’s performances of timeless songs, like “You’ve Got A Friend”. Dave and Deb left, after about an hour, and I stayed on until the night nurse got there. She had her own struggles to get to work, in the rain, but in the end, all was well. I bid Mom good night, promising to come back tomorrow morning.

The elevator to the first floor found me stuck inside, due to a brief power outage, then everything came back on. I was “rescued” by another night nurse who was waiting on the first floor. The drive from Lynnfield to Bedford was made in the rain, and of course once near the motel, GPS got bollixed up and sent me to the next lot over. As I backed up in that lot, to turn around, a random guy wandered from behind my vehicle, because that’s what happens, when it’s dark, rainy and late at night. We are always expected to be on game. He was a security guard for the lot’s owner, it turned out, and was not unpleasant.

Now, I’m in my comfortable room and rest will come easy.

Frizzle-Frazzle

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June 18, 2024- I saw the word ‘paradise’ on someone’s post, this afternoon, and was moved to play Bruce Springsteen’s “Paradise”, from his album, “The Rising”, his 2002 response to the attacks on September 11, 2001. He sings three verses, depicting three different souls. Yet, when I first listened to the song, I thought of my wife, Penny, even then living under a cloud. Somehow, we’d have one another, for another nine years. She died in 2011.

I have not been triggered by this song, or anything else-not even anniversaries, until today. This afternoon, hearing those words hit me hard. Part of it is the aloneness that I choose, so I can’t point fingers. Yet, it is made harder by the silence.

Silence has always bothered me, after a week or so, from those to whom I feel especially close and after a month or two, from everyone else I love. I guess that’s why I am online so much, especially since Penny passed. It is also why I treasure living in a town where I can walk to where there are people whose companionship I value. Today, it was Planet Fitness and Wildflower Bakery. Other times, it is Raven Cafe, , or Zeke’s,or the Farmers Market -or Rafter Eleven, if I feel like a short drive.

When I was a teen, there was a cartoon about a time traveling wizard who sent his protege to distant places. When it was time for the episode to end, the wizard’s mantra was “Frizzle-Frazzle, Frizzle, Frome, time for this one to come home”. So often, I have faced the “frizzle-frazzle” of grandiose plans falling apart, and have “come home” to reality, with a straight face. I am sensing that my latest grand, feelings-based plans may be “frizzling” and “frazzling”. It’s that silence again. We’ll see, in a few days, or a few weeks.

Mending Fences

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June 15, 2024- The sun came up, fierce and hot, on this first day of relative time off. There is still the work to be done here at Home Base I, yet nothing will draw me out of state until mid-July, unless I get that call from Massachusetts.

I had the honour of spending a couple of hours sharing stories of life, and thoughts, with someone with whom I thought I had fallen out of favour. No such thing had happened, as it turns out. The Red Cross booth drew passing attention, and one person wanted to have smoke detectors installed. Mostly, though, it was just M T and I, sharing stories of our departed spouses and of those who have won our hearts, more recently.

It was a joy to get back, a short time later, to Farmers Market. My good friend M M told of her own brief time away, which does my heart good, and I offered to help for a few hours each day, clearing the area around her forever home. That offer will stand, for the month or so that I am here, as well as in August, which also will mostly be spent around HB I. The young people who run the Market were glad to have me back, albeit only for few weeks.

After a few hours of rest, it was time to head over to a place from which I had banished myself, for a couple of years now: Synergy of Sedona. S R had sent me an invitation to the Saturday evening portion of their 6th Anniversary celebration, so it was time for self-imposed exile to come to a close. It was an entertaining mix of genres, on the stage: Jazz, folk, spoken word and poetry slam-even a comedic recounting of a lady’s post-divorce westward “drift” , as she put it. The plea for a “divorce shower” was half in jest, half in earnest; and you know, it makes perfect sense. When someone’s life is completely upended, why not a life change registry? I had plenty of help, after Penny passed on, but a divorcee’ ,oftentimes, only encounters the Wall of Shame.

The feeling I got from S R, though we only spoke in greeting, was that whatever it was that transpired, two years ago, had long since flowed into the ocean of bygone and had sunk to the bottom. I may not beat a path to Sedona, all that often, but knowing the door is open does my heart good. Mended fences can stay up.

Eastbound and Back, Day 33: To The Prairie Home

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May 31, 2024, Grapevine- The hardened but mannerly farmer must have already been on the job for several hours, and he was ready for a true farmhand’s breakfast. We introduced ourselves, we shook hands, and he groused about the previous day’s event in New York, as the footage droned on, on the small cafe’s TV. Then, we both focused on breakfast.

On this drizzly morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find a haven of charm, organization and good food, in the small cotton town of Ruleville, founded by J.W. Rule, in 1898, expressly as a cotton processing center. It was the home of Fannie Lou Hamer, who brought the Civil Rights struggle to the cotton farms.

A worker bee of a woman, named Winde, exuding grace, strength and a focused work ethic, runs Stop and Shop-Not Your Mama’s Tea– a long name for a boutique and cafe, but as fine a place to enjoy a full country breakfast as any of the full-on cafes I have experienced on this journey. Here, I found the South at its finest.

Winde’s breakfast stood by me all day, through western Mississippi, across Louisiana and the eastern third of Texas. My mission was simple: Get to my little family in this bustling airport town, by a decent dinner time. That, I did, stopping to deposit my month’s rent at a bank branch in east Texas, and alternately driving along a nearly empty highway, then finding people driving like bats out of the underbelly-each trying to outdo the other.

I got in to Grapevine, despite a few accidents that had traffic snarled more than usual, and a scrum that blocked access to the short route here. It was okay, though, to go the longer way around, as it actually deposited me closer to the apartment complex that lies a bit west of Grapevine Mills Mall.

So, this quieter day, with no focus on history or scenic spots, brought me to Son’s side, as he applied himself to a major portion of the work that will bring his baccalaureate study to a successful close. It will be an affirming weekend for the three of us- Aram, Yunhee (his wife) and me.