August 16, 2022- I took my time, getting out of bed, this morning-relatively speaking. It took eight minutes or so, instead of the usual three. I breathed very deeply, many times, due to the rush of thoughts going through my head. In this land of millions of motor vehicles, I thought about the process of getting a new one. I determined that:
I would put in a full day on my work assignment, skimping on nothing. It’s a tradition for me, that personal cares and challenges stop at the workplace door. In dealing with kids, especially, the outside world has to take a backseat. It was a good day, guiding and reassuring the little ones.
In the evening, I took care of some paper work transfers, then sat down and looked at a couple of websites, of local auto dealers. I determined, early on, that online purchase of a vehicle was unwise. There is a lot of transparency out there, but there is also a fair amount of deceit. One profile features a desirable vehicle, but there was uncertainty about its odometer reading. The author claimed it was “probably a clerical error, not a willful discrepancy.” Good luck with that one, pal!
I made a list of vehicles that appealed to me, from the two dealers’ websites. There are seven vehicles on this short list. I will spend time tomorrow evening, talking with the dealers, on site. Kicking the tires and checking the bells and whistles are musts.
August 13, 2022, Lake Havasu City- One by one, friends of a young man whom I have known for about three years came filing through the door of the home he shares with his father, in this desert community overlooking the Colorado River. It is his thirtieth birthday. He allowed as how this was the biggest birthday bash he has ever had-and I would not have missed it for the world. He sees today as a confirmation of his change in mindset. This was bolstered by going around and asking each of us what one piece of advice we would offer him.
I admit, I don’t know what it feels like to have a birthday where no one attended the party. Even when it was just initially the three of us, others have always showed up and made the day festive. Not everyone is so fortunate-and God knows, there are those who get arrested, or even killed, on their “special day”. Thankfully, this has not happened to anyone I have known, save one person, back in the mid-90s. There are many who do, however, end up noting their birthdays nearly alone. Today’s celebrant was one of those, on several occasions, over the years.
Another aspect of this day is the marking of three decades. Often, the “Big Three-Oh” is a mark of maturity, or at least the glimmerings of such, in a person’s life. For me, back in 1980, it was the day when a woman in San Diego told me I didn’t need to try so hard, in starting a relationship. She was in a bond of her own, so was not dropping any hints-but she said I was more physically attractive and personable than I was allowing self to acknowledge. That was borne out, a week later, when I met Penny in Zuni, NM and my life changed-for the next thirty years, if not forever. My thirties, which my last landlady in Maine had told me, two years earlier, would be enjoyable, were also the period in which I shed a long-standing bugbear: Alcohol dependence; and changed the scope of my faith, from Catholic to Baha’i- more in keeping with my own belief in the essential unity of all people-and the wholeness of Creation.
I became a father, towards the end of the decade, and now our son is in his own thirties, a loving husband, a diligent student, and a man on the cusp of a senior rank in the U.S. Navy Reserves. He has a solid life plan, a tad more organized than I had at that age, and which is also flexible enough that no change in humanity’s fortunes can derail it.
So, I see my young friend also finding a viable path, one that he and his best friend here can navigate together, if they wish. I sense that his days of viewing the world though the half-empty glass, a worldview rooted simply in fear, are over and that his considerable gifts are going to bear fruit.
Life in one’s thirties is indeed a triple-decker, of knowledge, wisdom and meaningful action.
August 11, 2022- The tearful little girl was introduced to me, by her teacher of four days. She readily agreed to take a short walk with me, and we went, briefly, out a door to a small play area. There were other students and teachers in the area, and between the lot of us, we found an exterior door that was unlocked. The girl and I went back inside, walked to the office and let the staff there know about the door. Each of us who was over the age of 18 thought of another school, far away, that had an unlocked door, a few months ago. The matter took on an urgency.
The school where I worked today is in a fairly comfortable part of Prescott Valley. The teachers and staff have a clear love for their students and there is a warmth there, that I wish were present in every institution of learning. Although the rest of my day was spent as a lunch room monitor, I could very easily return to the school and assist in whatever capacity is needed.
Modern schools almost to a one, find themselves as sanctuaries. Those whose structures more accurately resemble prisons, in their design and physical plant, have to struggle mightily to avoid being such. There are also schools whose teachers are intellectually adept, but are emotionally-stunted, and actually take pride in making students cry. This school has none of that. There is a sense that difficult children are so, for a reason, and that reason is not to punish adults.
I sense that this year will be one of more discerning acceptance of assignments, especially as there seems to be a surplus of substitute teachers. There are maybe 8 schools where I feel that my presence is a good fit. This school would be the eighth, and but for a three-to-five month commitment on Fridays, and a pair of short, but necessary trips in September and October, I would have signed on for a lengthy “Roving Sub” position, there or in another such school.
August 10, 2022- In the midst of the confluence between the first COVID outbreak and the hurricane season, two years ago, I found myself on the floor of a large congregate hurricane shelter, in Alexandria, LA. I had been getting messages about that city, for about two months, so it came as no surprise that the Red Cross sent me there. What was surprising was that I managed to be on the floor, in constant motion, helping a variety of people with sometimes complicated concerns, for up to nine hours-and being able to wind down, getting enough sleep for the next day’s activities. There were no full days of rest allowed, though we did get up to three hours off, on one day of our choice during this two-week period. This was mainly because of the Shelter Manager’s assessment of the situation, which was not all that far off the mark. It was probably the most physically intense event that any of us had worked.
I was given a high rating on performance of duties, for that assignment. Even if that had not been the case, it would not have mattered much. I did my level best and felt that I had. No one else’s opinion really mattered, though the clients, who were mostly lower middle class people, of white, black and Hispanic descent, gave me a hearty thanks. That felt good.
Don Miguel Ruiz, in the fifth chapter of “The Four Agreements”, casts the agreement to do one’s best, across situations and physical states, as the prerequisite to overcoming the failure to keep one’s word, the tendency to take things personally and the making of assumptions. Since the latter three are themselves derived from self-doubt, and are only fed by the negative energy of others, the mindset that one has done one’s best diverts from such self-defeating practices. It sets the stage for a new set of agreements, which are proactive in building a world based on true personal inner peace and positive relationships.
The Universe, almost in keeping with the spirit that welled up in me, after I read that chapter, provided work for tomorrow, three substitute assignments for next week and a social gathering, across the state, on Saturday evening. The respite of about ten days has been sufficient and it will be reaffirming to be back in service.
July 4, 2022, Saugus- I walked past my now-renovated and much enlarged childhood home, and over to the short hill that served as backdrop for many adventures, back then.
My childhood home, reconfigured for a new generationSide view of the new “old house”.Blueberry Hill, Saugus, MA
It was on the above-seen hill that I slid down with my eyes closed, on both a disc and sled, somehow knowing just when to turn and avoid the tree that my sister was afraid I would hit. It was here that I told fantasy tales of ghosts and imaginary communities, to my cousins visiting from Lynn, who knew it was all bollocks, but grinned and said “Wow”, anyway.
The hill now has well-placed homes on each end. One of them has been here since the 1950s, built by a First Nations man, who reared three children here, with his Scots-Irish wife. There is an ecologically-pleasing home, slightly above it, on the hill.. On the northern end, another home or two sit, across from the Intermediate School, which thankfully looks a lot less like a prison than it did as a Middle School, built in the aftermath of the school fires of 1963.
All this reminiscing reminds me of just how interdependent we all are. What belonged to one, in the past, belongs to another now. What was a refuge to someone, decades ago, is a home to someone else today. Things like schools, hospitals, parks that were built by people of one generation may very well continue to serve their successors, without restriction based on some historical pride of place.
The other aspect of my current journey that enforces the notion of interdependence is the increasing awareness of geography, across humanity, and interest in visiting even the most remote communities. A recent visit to L’Anse aux Meadows, at the northern tip of Newfoundland, saw about ten other passenger cars and a busload of tourists, making their way around the seemingly bleak and windswept bogs (on boardwalks, of course) and gazing at snow-covered hills.
People who never saw those from other nations and cultures now routinely greet those from across the globe. People who could barely identify the major cities of their own state or province can now readily match countries on other continents, with their capitals and major cities. Thanks to more heterogeneous travel and immigration, regardless of cause, people in even the most insular communities are becoming familiar with those whose ethnicities’ names, ten years ago, they could barely pronounce.
When I was a kid, I was regarded as odd, for being so interested in people and cultures far afield from this little town, north of Boston. Nowadays, there are plenty of other people who could run circles around me, in terms of global awareness. I regard that as a good thing.
June 29, 2022, Amherst, NS- I found an engaging restaurateur, who was having a birthday, at Bras d’Or View Restaurant, about eight miles west of Highlands Motel. It was worth the drive, as the place reminds me nicely of my favourite spots back in Prescott. The locals in Bras d’Or Village love Vanessa and she returns the sentiment. Breakfast was a heartfelt meal.
Finally connecting with my Miqmak friend, on the south side of the Lake, I headed first to Iona, a small lake port, and got a sense of village life near the Reserve of Eskasoni.
St. Columba’s Catholic Church, Iona, NSRail bridge, Iona, NSBras d’Or Lake, at Iona, NS
I then headed over to Eskasoni, and inquired at a couple of stores, as to the residence of a Miqmak elder, whose name had been given me by a mutual friend. A young man who overheard the conversation offered to take me to them elder’s home. When the watchdog barked at the young man, I thanked him and he left. The elder came out, asked who I was and sized me up. When I stated my business, he invited me inside and we talked at length, over pie a la mode and tea, about Baha’i matters and life on the Reserve. After some time had passed, he excused himself, to go take care of a work-related matter. His daughter came and dropped off a box of items and two other Baha’is came in and out, while the elder’s wife sat and conversed with us, while doing her own crafts project. In time, my friend A. P. came in and the conversation continued for another two hours or so. The other Baha’is left and A.P. offered to show me Eskasoni’s Baha’i Centre, a few miles away. We went over there and he told me some particulars of how the Centre came to be and how it is being renovated now.
A. P. and me, Eskasoni, NSEskasoni Baha’i Centre, NS
After we thanked our hostess, A.P. and I left, with him guiding me back towards the Canso Causeway, using the backroads. It was a very rewarding day for me, listening to the sometimes complicated views of the Mikmaq and to their Creation stories. As in the United States, and elsewhere in the world where First Nations people and settlers have variously clashed and made efforts at getting along. Nova Scotia has seen a lot of injury and misunderstanding.
Much of this has come from failure to listen, especially on the part of those who do not maintain silence long enough to process the mood of the situation or to observe body language. Promotion of an agenda, above all else, has only built unnecessary walls. Then, there is the manipulation, the abuse of children, adolescents and women, by those who should be trustworthy. The Miqmak, like the Dineh, Hopi, Inde (Apache), Cree, Salish, Inuit and others-even the Beothuk, who are viewed as “extinct”, have earned the right to Truth and Reconciliation-in a real way, not just monetarily, but to be seen as full partners in any community that is theirs by right.
I ended this day by encouraging a young lady who was a new server at Big Stop Restaurant, Aulds Cove, just on the mainland side of Canso Causeway. The meal hit the spot and she did everything right. It was no detriment that she was using cue cards. That shows initiative and the desire to do a job well. Finding a place for the night, I noted that Amherst has a laundromat and car wash, near Comfort Inn, so it’s here that I settled in.
Tomorrow, I will cross southern New Brunswick and return to the United States, after my longest stay outside the country since 2014.
Hatcher House, Memorial University of Newfoundland and Labrador
The scenes went from jaw-dropping to heart-warming, as the day was spent traversing a more sublimely lovely part of this island. After a packaged breakfast, indicative of the ongoing seriousness with which the Canadian government still takes the pandemic-with considerable merit, I bid farewell to Memorial University, and went-across the street, to Pippy Park. This large and ecologically rich urban park was established by the Province of Newfoundland and Labrador, in 1966, and named for one of its prime boosters: Chesley A. Pippy, a St. John’s businessman and philanthropist. I focused on the area of the park around Long Pond. Here are some scenes.
View of Memorial University, from Pippy Park, St. John’s, NL
Side garden, near Fluvarium, Pippy Park, St, John’sA small feeder of Rennie’s River, Pippy ParkForest cover, Long Pond Loop, Pippy ParkLong Pond, Pippy Park-with Memorial University in backgroundCommunity Garden, Elaine Dobbin Centre for Autism, St. John’sSound Therapy Garden, Elaine Dobbin Centre for Autism, St. John’s
Seeing a family go to this area and examine the plants, with the children playing some of these instruments, I naturally went there, after they had left and was delighted to see what is being done, in the name of autism research. The autistic children with whom I have worked love tending gardens and are comforted by soft vibrational sounds, as am I.
Long Pond, from South Shore, Pippy Park
Returning to the parking lot, via the South Shore of Long Pond Loop, I picked up a snack of potato wedges, from an Irish gentleman, who proudly told me of his progress in curbing his smoking habit. Congratulating him and commiserating, just a bit. with his plaint that the day was too hot (I told him I was from Arizona, which gave him pause in bemoaning the 70-degree heat), I said his taters were mighty tasty.
I next made a brief drive over to the Fort Amherst area, near the south bank of St. John’s Harbour. From here, are views of Cabot Tower, on Signal Hill and of the confluence of the Harbour with the Atlantic Ocean.
View of Signal Hill, from the base of Fort Amherst, St. John’sEntry to St. John’s Harbour
Of course, more time is warranted in St. John’s. I sense there will be an Avalon and Burin-centric visit back to the island, in two or three years, along with everything else. For today, though, it was time to head over to the Burin Peninsula, three hours away and settle in for the night at Abbie’s Garden Bed and Breakfast.
I arrived here around 5:45, was warmly greeted by Abbie’s widower, his second wife and his daughter, who is the proprietress of her mother’s Garden. My room, in a lovely house called The Loft, has all the comforts of home, including a thick Newfoundland comforter. The gardens, which I will photograph tomorrow morning, are indeed Abbie’s legacy. The houses and the trails are the work of her husband, Bruce. Their daughter has maintained and built on this legacy.
I enjoyed a fine meal in town, at Copper Kettle. A finer lobster and bacon wrap has never been had by man. This, after being followed by a utility worker, who the waitress at Copper Kettle says is a self-appointed pair of eyes for the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary, until I pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. I guess they don’t see too many vehicles with Arizona plates around here. For my part, I saw a vehicle with St. Pierre and Miquelon plates, which makes sense, as the French territory is a short set of nautical miles off the Burin. Marystown, the Burin’s commercial hub, is “town” for the St. Pierrois, and their “mainland” neighbours.
After a lovely time relaxing around Bruce’s firepit, and enjoying some of his homemade rhubarb pie, it is time to go up and crawl under that comforter. Thanks, Abbie, for all you did.
L’Anse aux Meadows Along the northern tip of Newfoundland, there once lived at least three nations of people, who were lumped together by the Viking fishermen, upon their landing at Quirpon Island and the nearby mainland, and called Skraeling, after the term they used to describe the Inuit of Greenland. The term variously means “wearer of animal pelts”, “wearer of dried skins”, “barbarians” or even “weaklings”.
At first, the Vikings stayed on Quirpon and at the sight now known as L’Anse aux Meadows ,a corruption of the French L’Anse aux Medee, which means “Medea’s Cove”, after a ship Medea, of the French commercial fishing fleet that docked in what is now Gumper’s Bay, in the 16th and 17th Centuries. The Vikings first settled here in 990 A.D. and went back to Greenland in 1050. so their artifacts being here at all are an extra treasure. Whether they also went south to Cape Cod is still up for debate.
Quirpon Headland, near L’Anse aux Meadows, NLNorwegian archaeologists who found remnants of Viking settlement at L’Anse aux MeadowsMost likely landing site, at L’Anse aux Meadows
The above scene shows the boggy area that greeted the Vikings. They had to choose their steps very carefully. Visitors today have nice boardwalks on which to tread.
Boardwalk to Viking exhibits
My first walk was on Harry Youden’s Trail. He was a fervent supporter of unearthing Viking relics in this area, which was one of his favourite places to walk and meditate.
Outcropping at Harry Youden’s Cove, L’Anse aux MeadowsLichens are always hard at work in the tundraFull view of the cove“Meeting of Two Worlds”, by Luben Boykov and Richard Brixel
The above sculpture was commissioned by UNESCO, when L’Anse aux Meadows was designated a World Heritage Site.
Below, one of several mementos left by Harry, creating both a personal and “Fae” ambiance.
Small carving with child’s image, left by Harry Youden, L’Anse aux MeadowsFairies need a comfortable abode, so Harry carved one.Harry’s trail went on a bit longer, but I turned back, to see the Viking siteThis one speaks for itself, L’Anse aux MeadowsThere is plenty of fresh water at L’Anse aux MeadowsA work house, in the Viking style, L’Anse aux Meadows.
Note the ventilation ducts. The Norse used them, and here’s why:
Primitive hearth, in work houseTapestry, by a docent at L’Anse aux Meadows
One of the few women in the settlement group was a sailor’s wife, who was also a sale maker. As she was not sewing sails all the time, she busied herself with creative projects, like this above.
I spoke for several minutes with the docent who portrayed this busy woman, as well as with the woodworking and cook docents. All of them emphasized the constant work that needed doing, twelve hours a day, seven days a week, in this novel environment. All of the settlers longed, constantly, for “home”-Greenland.
NEXT POST: The road to Deer Lake (with Gros Morne National Park along the way)
June 4, 2022- This was a day for traveling the spectrum. Breakfast at Zeke’s was a time for recognizing that there will be a lot more to bringing about a Green Energy program than just cutting fossil fuel use on paper. Electric vehicles need those same fossil fuels in order to produce electricity, at least for now. I won’t argue the need to cut down on widespread use of fossil fuels. Towards that end, I am keeping my own vehicle in the best condition. Eventually, I will either get a hybrid or alt-fuel vehicle or live somewhere where a vehicle is not necessary.
Mid-day, a group of us discussed building vibrant communities and contributing to social transformation. These themes can only be realized by bringing people together, across points of view and by building on common ground. This is not as trite as many people seem to think, but it does entail some consistent hard work. Baha’is believe that consultation entails listening to what might, at first blush, seem objectionable points of view, and though we do not support those practices which would harm others or deny human rights, the mere expression of a viewpoint does not, in and of itself lead to tyranny. Once a point of view is expressed, it should be regarded as no longer the property of the person who expressed it, but as belonging to the group.
The final part of the day was spent helping a group of progressives at a community picnic. There were several booths, which highlighted such themes as registering to vote, banning Dark Money in political campaigns and tightening restrictions on sales of firearms to those assessed as mentally ill. I will help any group that is about the betterment of society and the preservation of Human Rights-which are God-given rights. I didn’t have to do much , but helping to break down the event was much appreciated. I even re-united a woman with her open-toed sandals.
Helping to transform society will be a lengthy process, requiring patience and perseverance- as well as an imperturbable open-mindedness.
May 26, 2022- The truth should not be so hard to handle. There are times when it is not exciting, when it doesn’t fit the narrative that’s in our heads and when it challenges us to rethink our worldviews.
It should not be so hard to comprehend that a living being in the womb, is not a creature whose existence depends on being convenient to others. How much more does that extend to a child who has come into being, breathing on on his/her own! How much more does that apply to a woman who has to make the most difficult decision of her life, without necessarily enjoying the support of those around her! How much more does that apply to a young man who is told, time and again, that he is a worthless piece of crap-but he can still buy a weapon and prove himself that way! It should not be hard to handle the truth, that every being put on this Earth-or sent out into the Universe, is here for a valid reason.
A United States Senator today observed that there is a lack of spirituality behind much of what is going on around us. He is not wrong, in that respect. There can, and must, be a balance between loving our Creator and valuing all that has been given us to enjoy, to treasure. Indeed, it is because the Creator gave us raw materials, intelligence, health and the means to live, in this training ground of the human spirit, that we are free to place value on all that is in, and of, this world-in a balanced way. We are free to value the people around us. We are free to value what has been incorporated in ourselves.
I cannot look upon the faces of those departed on May 24, 2022, without aching for the strength that shines out of their faces, any more than I can look upon the faces of everyone departed on December 14, 2012, February 14, 2018, April 20, 1999 and every.other.date that is etched in infamy. That slaughter, that waste, is what is hard to handle.
It all happens because too many cannot handle the truth.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 