The Beleaguered Southland

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March 27, 2023- I got a text, and an e-mail, from the Red Cross, early this afternoon, wanting to know if I would be available to assist in the recovery efforts following the latest wave of tornadoes in the mid-South, especially in Mississippi. I will be available starting Sunday, so we will see what RC’s response is.

The South appeared to have endured a triple whammy, these past few days. Tornadoes have come to be expected, yet those which hit rural areas at night have tended to not get as much forewarning as their diurnal counter parts and are thus deadlier.

School shootings, sadly, have come to be expected-and are dismissed as “an unfortunate trade-off for the protection of rights under the Second Amendment”. That codicil says no such thing, but has been interpreted as protecting the “rights” of the craven and the mentally ill, to the extent that it is, itself, no protection at all for those who either don’t own firearms (the vast majority of underage students, for example), or do not bring their weapons to the workplace or leisure spots , OR are outmaneuvered/ outgunned by the aggressor. Oh, for the days of a well-trained militia and firearms safety classes, as the prime missions of the National Rifle Association.

Thirdly, the Thirtieth Anniversary of the Waco Massacre should have been a day of national reflection and shame. Instead, it was turned into a political circus. Fortunately, a good many of those who went there to reflect, grieve and process their emotions did their processing and quietly left, well before the politicizing and venting had come to a close. To me, the carnage that day was every bit as reprehensible as what followed in Jonesboro, San Ysidro, Lakewood, Sandy Hook, Sutherland, North Charleston, Fort Hood, Pittsburgh, Roseburg, Arlington, Peoria, San Bernardino, Uvalde, Parkland, La Plata, Oxford and Nashville-as well as the places which escape my recall at the moment. The deaths of people, in misguided loyalty to one man are a supreme cautionary tale-and I pray the Divine that this never is repeated, for the sake of any one leader, father figure or surrogate neurotic means to power.

I’ve spent many enjoyable days in the South, as in other parts of the country and the continent, over the years. My heart hurts for those affected by each of the tragedies above-and while certainly praying, I am also willing to go and help in the recovery process, should my presence actually be welcome-as it was in Louisiana and Dallas, three years ago.

What Eternity Is Worth

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March 11, 2023- I attended a memorial service this afternoon, for a man who pretty much devoted his life to the elevation of anyone with whom he came into contact. When his time came, in December, the last photo taken of him was of a smiling man, lifting both arms up, ready for the next level of existence. He was sure he was going to meet Jesus-and my hunch is that he has.

There are those, however, in his circle of friends, who have other ideas. They snarl and sputter about their departed friend’s generosity to the less fortunate. The finite mind is trying to outmaneuver the infinite, as once again, money and power are exercising their appeal. I can’t get more specific than that, due to the matter being in legal process. If injustice seems to be getting the upper hand, however, mine will be one of the loudest voices in this community, calling out the miscreants.

It is worthwhile to ask, however, what is the power-monger’s concept of eternity? Those who occupy the highest seats in any given denomination, of many, if not most, of the world’s major sectarian entities, and a good many of those down the ranks, behave for all the world, as if the promise of eternity does not really exist-or if it does, it is more of the same, with rank having its privileges. The finite mind can never comprehend the infinite. To be fair, the same sense of entitlement is rife among the elite, and the aspiring elite, in many walks of life besides the clergy.

There is, however, good reason why Jesus the Christ cast the moneylenders out of the Temple in Jerusalem, why Mohammad did battle with the merchant class of Yathrib and why Baha’u’llah wrote that “The best beloved of all things in My sight is Justice” (not power, not control, but justice). The way to a better world lies in transcendence of attachment to the material, and in seeing the things of this world as simply tools, as aids to a temporary state of existence-and not as ends in themselves.

It remains to be seen, how many of the departed gentleman’s associates recognize that fact.

The Don’t Blink Emergency

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March 10, 2023- The alert came on my phone, warning of a possible need for me to go over to California, due to imminent flooding. An hour later, the Red Cross sent out an “all-clear” e-mail. This puzzled me, as there was still a weather alert for the state. Oh, well-there’s plenty to do around here-and in the north of AZ, next week and the week after. Then again, things could change, emergency-wise, on a dime.

Spring Break is coming, and with it a respite from working for wages. I did, though, get in two days this week-both among students who welcome my presence and assistance. I spoke earlier of Wednesday’s work; today’s was more upbeat, with a birthday party for one of the students, a fire drill that occurred just as I had retrieved a broom and dustpan for cleanup after a class project and the project itself-making “Leprechaun Traps”. Collaring imaginary humanoids is tricky, according to legend-but the students’ imaginations and systematic planning skills were given free rein. It will remain in the annals of the school, that “Mr. B.” walked down to the fire evacuation area, carrying a broom and dustpan.

There is also good news about the situation I mentioned in the last post. The school has hired a capable worker, who is keeping the troubled student I mentioned on track. Human ingenuity can, as a friend said in a post of her own, reduce the most severe of worst case scenarios to puffs of smoke.

So many “emergencies” tend to end up being “Don’t Blink” affairs.

Trade-offs

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February 28, 2023- “There are no solutions, only trade-offs.”- Thomas Sowell

One of the more provocative conservatives in our midst, Dr. Sowell has made a good many outrageous statements about “the passing scene”, but he is correct about a great generality of this life: Everything has a cost, as well as a benefit. The value of things great and small lies in the balance between the two.

My thoughts:

Further, all choices we make have immediate and long terms costs and benefits. Those things which cost us, with fleeting benefits, may be viewed as expenses. Those which have long-term benefits may be cast as investments. For example, a meal in a restaurant has mostly fleeting benefits, unless it also includes the generating or enhancement of a friendship or business deal. The deposit of funds towards the education of one’s child or grandchild should, one hopes, result in both the offspring’s well-being and prosperity, and benefits to society, stemming from the person’s expertise.

The same observations may be made, with regard to social movements. Fascism and the Divine Right of Kings benefit elitist claques, and oligarchies, whilst leaving out the vast majority of a country’s citizens, aside from cosmetic and superfluous economic and social trinkets-including insipid entertainment media. Democracies, which INCLUDE republics, are far messier, but have the potential to benefit all citizens, long-term. Everyone has to GIVE, in the form of taxes, or exercising the vote, or allowing those whom one might not like the same rights as one has. Of course, opposed to both of the aforementioned systems is anarchy, chaos, which adheres to no overt rules, save vengeance, self-aggrandizement and short-term personal satisfaction.

I have seen all three, in this short span of seventy-two years, and can only see the most beneficial trade-offs coming from the patience, perseverance and resolve that come from being an active participant in a democracy-and allowing everyone else the same, including-especially, those whose viewpoints differ from my own.

Yes, everything is a trade-off. This, friends, is why we are given free will, combined with intellect and a moral compass, that we may know what to keep and what to give away.

A Day of Change-ups

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February 26, 2023- With 3 inches of snow on the ground, I found it was not a problem to drive to the grocery store and purchase some vegetables and fruit. Then came breakfast at the American Legion Post-a routine on Sunday mornings. Being faithful to my weight reduction program, I saved the pancakes, freezing them for a time when I can nibble at them-along with the cheese and other items that sit in the freezer as well-and will be nibbled at, judiciously, when the time comes.

Normally, a group of us sit at the same table and encourage each other. Today, two of the other five diners showed up-and were already at another table, with other old friends. So, I joined them and the regular table was occupied, in short order, by five gentlemen who had not eaten breakfast there before. When the regulars left, I stayed for a delightful conversation with some other people, who usually sit on the other side of the room.

When I went back to the apartment, and logged onto Zoom, for the devotional which I host, three Sundays each month, I found two of the regular participants also joined-and three who are not usually on the call also logged in. Then, my audio went out, but theirs did not,so they could hear each other-and me, but I was the odd one out. We ended the program prematurely, so that I could go in and find out what Zoom was doing. It turned out that a button had been pushed to mute my audio, when I shared the full contents of my screen. That is something to watch at the next gathering.

The last change-up occurred when I went to the laundromat, and found it locked. What is likely is that the pipes froze, and they just didn’t bother to put up a sign. I will go back on Tuesday and try again.

Changes in routine are good, in that one does not get sclerotic in approaching daily life-as long as the changes do not reflect chaos, which calls for different skill sets.

Speech and Screech

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February 25, 2023- I would not recommend canceling “Dilbert”. I will still look at the comic strip and keep an open mind. Just as I do not recommend refusing to read “The Autobiography of Malcom X”, or “Hillbilly Elegy”, “Paradise” or, for the sake of a cautionary understanding, “Mein Kampf” or “The Communist Manifesto”. I might even pick up “The Art of The Deal”, at some point. The First Amendment trusts the American citizen to become educated enough to hear speech, read the written word and ponder the meaning of what is heard and read, through several lenses, if necessary.

I draw the line at sadistic works or those writings dripping with dark energy, but that is my choice. I don’t want to be dragged down a rabbit hole that bottoms out in a sewer pit. If someone else chooses to do that, and comes away unscathed, that person is far tougher than I. I also choose to be discerning, when someone is screeching at their audience. A person who has endured a lifetime of beatings and gaslighting is entitled to some vitriol. Someone who is merely inconvenienced by the advancement of others is not so much entitled. Both are free to talk, but I may tune out the latter, in short order.

I am keeping this short, and will end here. In conclusion, I have oceans of sympathy for the people of East Palestine, Ohio, who are still not being taken seriously by the President. I have no patience left, however, for those who claim he was not duly elected. The former victims should keep speaking out.

When Separation Is A Fallacy

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February 24, 2023- The writer and artist responsible for “Dilbert”, a comic strip carried by several newspapers in the country, has announced he is no longer interested in contact with Black people. He says that, in his recent experience, Blacks hate him for being White. Not knowing his specific experiences, I can’t speak as to what he should or should not do. Scott Adams goes further, though, encouraging other White people to likewise shun contact with Blacks, even saying that the news commentator Don Lemon, who himself is Black, has reported problematic experiences, when he lived in predominately African-American neighbourhoods. I can’t speak to Mr. Lemon’s experiences either.

For me, though, I have faced no hatred whatsoever, when visiting predominately African-American “hoods”, or mostly Hispanic barrios, for that matter. The opposite has been true. In one of my first walks in the Southeast area of Washington, D.C., I was a bit hesitant, when walking past a family of three, who were watering and weeding their front lawn. The father was pleasant, and told me not to worry; nobody was going to hurt me. A neighbour girl told her wary little brother, a few minutes later, “He’s a good white man”-while knowing nothing specifically about me.

This experience has repeated itself, many times over, in Black neighbourhoods of Boston, New York, Newburgh (NY), Newark, Philadelphia, Erie, Baltimore, Chicago, Milwaukee, Atlanta, Phoenix, Los Angeles and Las Vegas. People have either been friendly or indifferent, but not hostile. The same has been true in barrios, both in the U.S. and, years ago, in Sonora and Baja California del Norte. These experiences tell me that separation is not the answer. Open mindedness and understanding of different styles of communication, however, are of the essence.

The same holds true for the idea, recently floated in the halls of Congress, and elsewhere, for a “national divorce”-letting regions or groups of states go their ways-even to the point, advanced by a local resident here, of a total dissolution of the nation-with fifty independent countries as the result-so “each state can follow its own destiny”. To this, I say “rubbish”! Any family, community, county, state (or province, for that matter) can attest to the difficulties resulting from differences of opinion, perspective, world view-what have you. The choices are either work through it all and focus on common ground, or give up and walk away.

We have seen five nations split apart, in my lifetime: Pakistan, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, Sudan and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The first four were hybrid states, pieced together by colonial powers (Pakistan and Sudan) or by the participants in the Treaty of Versailles (Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia). The last one fell apart of its own weight. In none of these cases has the separation been complete and total. The nations arising from Yugoslavia have fought one another and still deal with cross-border tensions. Czechia and Slovakia have managed a more amicable separation and find themselves working together, both being part of the European Union. Pakistan and Bangladesh are both part of the union of South Asian states, their main bone of contention having been their being separated geographically, by India. Sudan and South Sudan are slowly learning the need for economic cooperation, despite their divisions, which are primarily tribal and religious in nature. As for the USSR, central planning and a sclerotic economy still hobble several of its former members-especially Russia. The Commonwealth of Independent States, floated by Boris Yeltsin, was a good idea on the surface, but because it mainly sought to maintain Russia’s dominance, it exists today only in name.

I have gone on too long, but the point is, we are a global family-and not talking, or talking trash, with each other, is going to “make the whole world blind”-as Gandhi said, referring to adherence to the Old Testament, back before World War II. There are people who see a better path, such as activists on both ends of the political spectrum, from South Central Los Angeles and rural West Virginia, who have chosen to work together for the common good. One group’s strength is collective effort. The other’s is individual initiative. There are uses for both.

There is, however, no use for throwing up hands and walking out on the very people who need a person’s individual strength and a group’s unified power. There is no strength in division.

Instead Of…….

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February 22, 2023, Patagonia, AZ- No matter what one does in this life, there will always be someone who thinks something else should have been done, instead.

I’ve heard suggestions, albeit gentle, that:

Instead of being in southern Arizona right now, I should be back in Prescott, preparing to set up a storm shelter.

Instead of setting up a storm shelter, I should be helping out in understaffed schools.

Instead of doing my “own thing”, I should be checking with those who could really use my assistance, back at Home Base.

I’m not being singled out, by any means. The President, no matter who he (and someday, she) is has more suggestions as to how to do the job, than just about anyone on the planet. Witness how the zero sum crowd equates the current president’s visit to Kiyyiv with unconcern for East Liverpool, or for the Mexican border. Anyone else in a leadership role has similar experiences.

There is another type of “Instead of”. That is when a planned activity is a victim to changing circumstances, and being graceful calls for other activities to take its place.

Thus, on this journey, the ferocious winds and rain that came here, this morning, nixed a hike to the border, in Coronado National Monument. Instead, I came upon San Pedro House, about eight miles north of Sierra Vista, where I spent last night. A delightful, if less taxing, hike in a loop from the small house to the San Pedro River and back, about 1.5 miles, replaced the planned activity. The winds were not as fierce as they were further south and I got to pay homage to one of the last free-flowing rivers in the Southwest.

Here are a few scenes from the privately conserved area.

San Pedro House, Cochise County
San Pedro River, between Sierra Vista and Bisbee.
Willow and Cottonwood, San Pedro Interpretive Trail
San Pedro River, assuming a channel-like flow.
Green Kingfisher Pond, fed by the San Pedro.
Wind-whipped grass, San Pedro Interpretive Trail.
Wooden water bin, near San Pedro House.
Children once played in this cabin, under the live oak.
Secured utility pole, leaning from the high winds, Old Town Bisbee.

After leaving San Pedro House, I headed to Bisbee, hoping to take lunch at High Desert Market and Cafe. It was closed today, so instead I found Le Cornucopia Cafe, just across the street from this temporarily concerning scene, of a tottering utility pole which, as one onlooker put it, could have set all Old Bisbee on fire, had it toppled and set the wires to sparking. The situation was handled swiftly and well. As for Le Cornucopia, their curried lentil soup filled the simple lunch bill very nicely.

Finally, as the wind was still pretty intense and a mix of rain and snow was falling, as evening approached, I came into this old mining town, in northern Santa Cruz County-an area of Arizona that I had not visited previously. Sonoita and Patagonia are picturesque, with the latter having a charming “Old West” hotel. So, here I am at Stage Stop Inn, for the night.

Stage Stop Inn, Patagonia

It always pays to follow the heart. The Universe has yet to steer me wrong.

Nature and Nurture

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February 21, 2023, Sierra Vista- The day began, nicely enough, though it was raining in Superior. The rain continued, off and on, while I was taking in Boyce Thompson Arboretum, the town’s crown jewel. I have been here, three times before, but never under cloudy skies or when rain alternated between drenching shower and light drizzle. I was no worse for the wear; nor were any of the seventy or so others, including 57 fourth-and fifth-grade students, who did not let the weather get between them and the bountiful flora-with collections from various arid and semiarid areas around the globe. Starting with our own Sonoran Desert, the park takes in the neighbouring Chihuahuan, the Kalahari, western Sahara, the Mediterranean Rim, the deserts of Asia, of Australia and of South America.

Here are six scenes of nature, taking in its nutrients, on this mid-winter day.

East face of Picketpost Mountain, Boyce Thompson Arboretum
East face of Picketpost Mountain, as the fog is lifting.
Teddy Bear Cholla, rejoicing in the moisture.
Early blossoming camellias
A cardinal looks for food.
A pair of stone watchmen, east face of Picketpost Mountain.

There is much for me to visit, still, the next time I come this way: The Asian and South American desert gardens and Picketpost House, most specifically.

Next up was Biosphere II, the site of an experiment in enclosed living and recreation of natural environments, within that enclosed space. Two teams, each managing a separate mission, worked the space between 1991-1994. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biosphere_2. The space is presently owned and operated by the University of Arizona, which maintains the site in a good faith synergy with the original vision of Ed Bass and John P. Allen, who themselves were inspired by Buckminster Fuller’s “Spaceship Earth” project. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operating_Manual_for_Spaceship_Earth.

The site remains the largest closed ecological system ever created. Here are several photographs of the site, taken by my trusty camera, until it ran out of battery.

Staff residences and common building (right foreground), Biosphere II.
Overview of Main Campus, Biosphere II.
View of garden, Central Commons building
Freight Farm-the buildings in which hydroponic farming produces what is needed for the residents to live.
The Lung-which regulates air pressure, within the glass enclosure.
Fog-laden desert scape. This is one of many environments, created and maintained, within the glass-enclosed laboratory. Others include both High and Low Savanna, Rain Forest and Ocean.

Biosphere II was a noble effort, laid low by power-seeking and by human conflict. Nonetheless, the University of Arizona is giving the basic mission of the site its best shot. I am at a loss to succinctly describe the physics of LEO. This article may explain the concept, by which three landscapes are created on site. https://biosphere2.org/research/research-initiatives/landscape-evolution-observatory-leo

Microaggressions

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February 19, 2023- Jim Morrison once offered the verse, “No one here gets out alive”, in The Doors song, “Five to One”. It became the title of his biography and a caution to anyone who acts as if they are above it all. There is no one, least of all myself, who cannot improve on both inner thoughts and on behaviour towards self and others.

This afternoon, an earnest young woman offered a presentation on “Microaggressions”, small actions stemming from deeply ingrained attitudes-many of which began to take root in childhood. Reflecting back, I recall hearing a racist version of “Eenie, Meenie Miney Mo”-not knowing what the epithet at the end meant, until Mom said she’d wash our mouths out with soap, if we copied our friends’ use of the term again. It wasn’t until Martin Luther King, Jr’s speeches began to be broadcast on the Nightly News that I figured out how deeply offensive the epithet was to African-Americans.

Still and all, behaviours which did not seem to bother other White people DID bother Blacks, and I am grateful that I was called out on them, almost immediately-and told WHY they were offensive. Anything which does not allow for equitable treatment of all people, regardless of their outward features, has no true place in the human fabric. It will take time and patience, both with oneself and with all one meets, to overcome the little affronts, which do add up-and contribute to misunderstandings, and feelings of being aggrieved.

Humour is often used in such faux pas-and the offended person is often asked, “Can’t you take a joke?” The answer, when a relationship has not been firmly established and mutual trust deeply ingrained, is “No”. Humour ought not, ever, be used as a screen, behind which one may toss darts at people who are different. The better option is self-examination, on a daily basis, and increasing one’s understanding of the deeper cultural elements that might lead to someone feeling microaggression directed against him/her.

No one here gets PHYSICALLY out alive, but we can certainly grow our spirits.