Category Archives: distraction issues

Owning Up

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

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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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

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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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

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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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

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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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

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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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Entertainment, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

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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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Education, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

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.

Eastbound and Back, Day 27: No Fire This Time

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Entertainment, Family, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 25, 2024, Bethlehem, PA- I was drifting off to another blissful sleep, and the unmistakable sound, from years of running drills at various schools, got me out of bed and out of the building, in a flash. There I was, pajama-clad, and in sockless shoes, with a slowly-accumulating gathering of fellow guests, and the few staff who didn’t need to be in the office. “It’s just like school, huh?”, I remarked to an excited little girl, as her father grimaced and shook his head. The whole episode lasted twenty-five minutes, the police officer gave the all-clear and we headed back inside, as the seven firefighters continued their inspection of the wiring and checking for signs of (illegal) indoor smoking, or untended cooking. (This is an extended stay establishment, and there are two flat stove burners, in each room, as well as a microwave oven-which could lead to burnt popcorn.) The Cuban maintenance director, sounding like Desi Arnaz on steroids, promised he’d find out if anyone was responsible for the mayhem. All I know is, it wasn’t me-and probably wasn’t the guy standing next to me, who looked as if he were a clean-shaven Rip Van Winkle.

My last night in New England, for this trip, anyway, came to an end with a small purchase of a coffee and empanada, from 7-11, and a farewell to Nitey-Nite Motel’s owner, who barely looked up from his game of Solitaire, as I dropped off the key card. That’s okay; he offers clean, quiet rooms at a decent price. Hartford and Waterbury were a breeze to get past. Danbury was still Danbury-the same jockeying for position, at the split between U.S. 7 and I-84, leading some of us to wait 2-3 seconds in the inner lane of 7, before a quick break let us onto the 84.

It’s been a while since I stopped at Arlene and Tom’s Family Diner, Port Jervis. The same “Home of the Free, because of the Brave” sign is there, and the TV is still set to Newsmax. The pastrami is still among the best in the Catskill region, though, so that’s what matters most. Besides, it is always good to know what both sides are thinking, in this cosmic stew that is America, and the world, in 2024.

This visit to New England, and to the northeast Atlantic region beyond, reassured me of everyone’s love. Seeing cousins from both sides of the family, being able to repay Mom for all the nurturing she has given, over seven decades, being with my three siblings in a delightful dining room, visiting the graves of my father and baby brother, visiting a boyhood friend and connecting with Baha’is in Cape Breton Island, Corner Brook (NL) and Green Acre Baha’i School have made the month an exemplary one. Starting May off with a visit to the House of Worship certainly helped, in terms of spiritual energy. There was more interest in the Faith, from family and friends, this time around. Mom even read some prayers from my book. I was sent forward with top-notch pizza in Mishawaka, and, despite the jibes from someone I love very much, managed to keep in the good graces of hoteliers from Gallup to South Windsor. Time on the French-ruled island of St. Pierre was the icing on this very rich cake.

Now I am in Pennsylvania, with this hotel, an Air BnB and a private guest room as places of rest, during this second round of family visits. This evening was another special event-well before the fire drill. I visited these fine people, enjoyed fabulous Persian rice, salad and soup, with copious amounts of jicama and watermelon for dessert. I was also edified by the various “Got Talent” clips of performances by American and British senior citizens-most of whom were extraordinarily talented.

I also was briefly introduced to Tatamy Village’s community park.

Tatamy Park

Now, I lay me down to sleep, again.

Eastbound and Back, Day 21: Newfoundland Notes, Part VI

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 19, 2024, Port aux Basques- The screen in the lounge, at Marine Atlantic’s terminal here, was showing “The Perfect Storm”, the 2000 film about a fishing boat disaster. The weather tonight will be relatively calm, and there were no kids watching this, so I’d say we are dodging a bullet.

I got into town fairly early this afternoon, after a light breakfast at Harbour Grounds, a pleasant little coffee shop in Corner Brook. Today was laundry day, so much of the time was spent at First Choice Convenience Store’s laundromat corner. Afterward, though, I decided to search for the places that were recommended to me, east of town, as hiking venues and one, as a dinner spot. The areas in question were the little villages of Isle aux Morts, Burnt Islands and Margaree. I went first to Burnt Islands, checking out the lime-stained rocks, offshore, that vaguely resembled small ice-coated boulders.

Doubling back to Isle aux Morts, I found the Harvey Trail, named for one George Harvey, an 18th-19th Century immigrant from the Channel Islands, who settled with his wife, Jane, a native of the Port -aux- Basques area and their nine children, in this then remote spot, where at the time, no other people lived. George and his eldest daughter, Ann, rescued several sailors from the sinking ships, the Despatch and the Rankin, in 1828 and 1838, respectively. Here are scenes from the Harvey Trail.

Finally, Margaree, a tiny village that lies southwest of Isle aux Morts, has Seacoast Restaurant, with extraordinarily tasty seafood, beef and pork dishes, served by a group of gracious, very unassuming women. The owner brushes off compliments, but I know she is proud of the operation. It was a vibrant Sunday night crowd, made all the more so by the day being Pentecost Sunday AND the middle of a long Victoria Day weekend.

That made the relatively light crowd on tonight’s sailing to North Sydney seem rather strange, but maybe it’s a sign that people want to celebrate closer to home. I leave off here, after successfully dealing with my bug-a-boo, backing the car up longer than ten feet. The patient ferrymen got me to back Sportage up some forty feet-without banging into anything. That’s progress!

St. James Anglican Church, Port aux Basques, NL
Neighbourhood on north side of Port aux Basques
Burnt Islands,NL
Burnt Islands, NL
The story of George Harvey, Isle aux Morts, NL
Shipwreck capital of Newfoundland
Seacoast Restaurant, Margaree(NL)

Eastbound and Back, Day 13: Newfoundland Notes, Part I

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 11, 2024, Corner Brook-

I was able to add this photo, of sunrise on our approach to Channel-Port aux Basques, earlier today. Then, the WP editor kicked in, and announced that “You have no posts”. That was with regard to the app on my i-Phone. That app will remain unused, until I can get that nonsense straightened out. This is one example of why AI will never replace the human mind. AI is quirky, rigid, inflexible. Humans are quirky, too, and can be inflexible, but can be made to see reason. AI is an eternal toddler. Only an adult can guide it to a place of equanimity.

Anyway, upon getting off the ferry, Sportage and I headed to Alma’s Family Restaurant, in a shopping strip mall, east of downtown. A nice young lady, who appeared to be the owner’s daughter, took my order, in business-like but kind fashion. The breakfast was a bit bland, but filling.

Today was a picture postcard Blue Sky day. The storm that folks on Cape Breton warned about, yesterday, has not reached here, yet. So, I headed east, towards Corner Brook which, as you see above, was my destination, after the inadequate sleep I got on the ride over. There was an added concern: Son had a bout of dehydration and is in hospital. I am prepared to cut this trip short, return to Cape Breton and then make my way to Texas, but so far, Aram and Yunhee are not in need of my presence. I will, nonetheless, be in touch with them each day, until he is recovered. While I was sitting still and dealing with that, a young woman, who had been at the gas pumps at the same time as me, was dealing with what sounded like a serious interpersonal issue. She pulled her car behind mine, and stayed close to me, until she felt better enough to drive off. No words were exchanged between us; she just needed someone who felt trustworthy, for about twenty minutes.

After driving around the Stephenville and Gallants areas (Gallant being my Nana’s family name, that of the ancestors who came from France to the Maritimes, by way of Quebec.), I pulled into Corner Brook.

Lake George, east of Gallants.
North Brook, Gallants

A couple of aborted attempts at finding lodging-“We are waiting for our cleaning crew”; no one in the office ended with my taking a room at the majestic Glynmill Inn.

I also took in a couple of Corner Brook’s finer natural areas: The Bay of Islands is bordered by a heartfelt Rock Art Wall, where people have left mementos of what is in their hearts.

Parents’ worst nightmare.
Bay of Islands

There is also a trail, from Glynmill to downtown. Passing by a small pond, it leads to Corner Brook’s unique City Hall.

So, having managed to reach an understanding with AI, I present you, once again, with photos taken on my i-Phone. Hope all is well on your end.