Wind Alert

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April 14, 2024- I got a report, from somewhere, that someone I met once, last Spring, had suffered the indignity of his hair catching fire. He is okay, just a bit unnerved and probably giving his scalp an aloe bath, for a day or two.


Although it was not due to the brisk wind that we have in Arizona, during the month of April and into early May, the incident underscored the danger that all of us keep in the back of our minds. I spent part of yesterday helping install smoke detectors, in a small town, about an hour southeast of here. The season of high winds and dry skies is upon us, so being fire wise is a huge undertaking. I will spend part of next Sunday raking pine needles, at a site where I have spent a good part of the month of June, for the past three years. The forest is always at risk, so it is not too soon to start preparing.

Walking downtown and over to a place where there was a concert on the patio, I found I had to hold my desert sun hat, that is probably one size too small, several times, as the gusts came and went. The grilled cheese and salad, and the acoustic guitarist, were worth the occasional gust, even on the patio. My food didn’t blow away, but someone’s beer glass was blown over, and the impromptu clean-up crew took care of business. That’s what people do for one another here. Both the hapless lady and her husband were given refills on the house.

I was born under the sign of fire, but preventing it from being destructive is as much, if not more than, my mission as using it carefully to cook and purify. Stay fire wise, wherever you may be.

Ad Hominem

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March 23, 2024- “What about the thousands of Vietnamese and Cambodians who have been killed?” So asks Henry Wyeth, an unseen character in Jon Robin Baitz’s “Other Desert Cities”, in response to his father’s admonition to turn himself in, after a bombing, in which he was involved, results in the death of a janitor. Father slaps Henry across the face, and the disheveled young man runs away.

This incident, and its aftermath, are the plot of Baitz’s 2011 play, about family dysfunction, the effect it has on the Wyeths, their two younger children and their doting, but feckless, aunt. It deals head-on with the overemphasis on political differences and how artificial those turn out to be, at the very basic human level. It is, at its core, a horror story. The catalyst is Henry’s sister’s writing a memoir, centered around his disappearance.

I went to a production of the play, this evening, at Prescott Center for the Arts. A fairly new studio theater affords an intimate, “in the square” presentation, almost like watching a play in one’s own living room. This makes the interaction, the tension, that much more relevant to the audience. It also increases the impact of various ad hominem attacks that the family members foist on one another, and no one is spared.

My family, even on an extended level, never fell into such holes of judgment. When we argued, things were resolved by nightfall, or by the problem person apologizing, whichever came first. The same was true in our marriage. Neither of us went to bed angry at the other. None of us let political differences trump familial love. So it remains today. People choose their political and social stances based on their personality, view of the world and experiences. No one else can really judge them, for those things alone.

In the beginning, and in the end, there is only love.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AIOkrxMPEQ&t=38s

A Library Jenga, Nine Lanterns and OB’s Farmers’ Market

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February 21, 2024, San Diego- The stack of books is about 5 feet, 2 inches tall. It is arranged like Jenga blocks, though it won’t fall down if one pulls a book from the middle. This is Big Rainbow House’s library.

A Jenga Library

With a more sunny day in the offing, I headed up to visit a long-time friend in Orange County. In the past, we have frequented one or another beach front restaurant. Today, the focus was on Laguna Niguel, a community about five miles inland from Dana Point. I got to drive the length of Golden Lantern Road. There are nine “lantern” roads, emanating from Dana Point Harbor, that I recall: Violet, Crystal, Blue, Green, Ruby, Amber, Silver, Copper and Golden. The street names were a marketing tool for the newly subdivided community of Dana Point, in the 1920s. Each starts with a coloured lantern atop the western terminus of the street.

Before that little drive, I spotted a pair of harbour seals, lounging on the stern of a small yacht, in Dana Point’s central marina. The female was barking, clamouring for attention-or so it seemed. The male was seemingly dead to the world.

Two on a platform

After a brief stroll around the marina, and an equally short walk at Dana Point’s hilltop overlook, I headed towards Laguna Niguel. A large family of Baha’is once lived in this pleasant. green canyon-laced community. So I felt drawn to have a look at the area. Being a bit early for our lunch appointment, I walked around the community’s regional park. Its centerpiece is Aliso Creek, a shallow rill that is nonetheless running in robust fashion-a bantam rooster of streams, if you will.

Aliso Creek, Laguna Niguel Regional Park (above and below)

Just after I took these shots, I spotted a pair of Mallards, attempting to cross the road. I also spotted a vehicle coming towards them. Gesturing to the driver and pointing to the male duck, either spooked the quacker or he felt the vibrations of the car. The pair dashed back to the side of the road and the car kept on going. The ducks then made their way to Aliso Creek.

The surviving mallards (in center left, Aliso Creek)

Lunch, at Avila’s La Ranchita, one of about five family-owned chains, in southwest Orange County, is a true delight-with every dish prepared on site, from fresh ingredients-no cans or bottles. There is no skimping on the meats and vegetables in the various tacos, quesadillas, tamales, enchildadas or tostadas. Equally important, the chips are baked daily and the salsa is freshly made. Even the iced tea is brewed on site. I am always alert to the difference between fresh and processed. This place is for real-and worth a drive eastward from the beach.

I came back to Ocean Beach, in time for the Wednesday Farmers’ Market. It is slightly larger than ours back in Prescott-but this is San Diego, after all, and the vegetables, fruits, cheeses, juices and various hot foods are all amazing, in variety and quality. I got a few items, and called it a night. One must be prudent, even when on holiday.

Ten Beautiful Things (and People)

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February 18, 2024, Blythe- (Getting around “no internet” is always fun. I am posting this from a location other than my motel-Relax Inn.)

My favourite zoo animal, when I was a child, was the black panther. Stoneham Zoo and Franklin Park, in Boston, always had at least one melanated leopard. As it happens, Heritage Park zoo, in Prescott, has a melanated jaguar. This panther is named Notch. So, Notch ranks #10 on the list of beautiful things and people that come to mind, as I sit here in this desert town, on the Colorado River.

He is also the only one for whom I will present a photograph, in this post. The other nine have been posted previously, at one point or another.

#9 is the western sunset, which is almost given a run for its money, by the sunsets of the Midwest.

#8 is the Aurora Borealis, which I have seen only once-in Flagstaff, circa 1980.

#7 is the voice of Carrie Underwood, when she is fully engaged in a spiritual song.

#6 is the portrayal by Keala Settle, of the Bearded Woman, in “The Greatest Showman” (2017).

#5 is the snowscape, after a storm, on the South Rim of Grand Canyon.

#4 is a mother black bear, nestling her newborn cub-and viewed from a safe distance.

#3 is the look on the face of a little girl, when her family is relocated from a flimsy shack, to a tiny house, on the outskirts of Sacramento.

#2 is the smile on the face of a grizzled and cynical Right Wing political activist, when he is given a packet of Earth Breeze laundry sheets, by someone he knows to be a social justice activist, from the other side of the political spectrum.

#1 is the smile on the face of a very dear friend, when those she trusts include her in activities.

Everyone has their own ideas of what, or who, is beautiful. That is what keeps this world glued together.

The Beads

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February 13, 2024-Laissez les bin temps rouler”. The good times are no doubt rolling, in New Orleans, in Mobile and way down south, in places like Rio de Janeiro and Port of Spain. In the Big Easy, there’s a lot of tossing beads at those lining the parade route, but that’s just the throwaway part, and there are those whose first concern is the content of the stringed glossies.

I have been on the periphery of Mardi Gras, twice. The first time, the bus I was riding rolled into NOLA, early on the morning of Ash Wednesday, 1987. Piles of stringed beads, leftover jambalaya and crawfish pila were all over downtown, but I was told the French Quarter was already clean as a hound’s entire mouth-never mind a single tooth. The second time was on the little sister of Mardi: Lundi Gras, in 2015, as good an excuse as any to extend les bon temps to four days. Things were already red hot in the French Quarter and a woman tossed a string of beads to me, from one of those balconies that could easily have featured a t-shirted Marlon Brando calling for Stella, at the top of his lungs. I think I made do with a large slice of pizza for lunch, and had my jambalaya later, in the evening, at a nice spot in Lake Charles.

Getting back to the beads, I gave mine to a granddaughter of the heart, that summer. Now we hear that the beads themselves may contain varying amounts of lead. By now, she has probably long since tossed the cheapo stringed glossies. What appeals to a four-year-old is an eye roller, when she reaches the age of twelve. Needless to say, if I have it to do over again, I’d graciously accept the beads, and find that algae pond that an intrepid high school freshman in, I believe, Missouri, said he’s using to break down the lead-infused beads.

My Mardi Gras today consisted of a spirit walk, checking out the end of downtown Prescott’s easternmost north-south street. Cortez Street goes up a short hill, and ends as a cul-de-sac, where there is an apartment complex. Things didn’t get much more rapid fire after that- A Mexican chocolate latte, a walk past the Granite Creek mural (will video that rather charming masterpiece, on Thursday) and a workout at Planet Fitness, rounded out the good times. My Mardi Gras meal was four small Buffalo Chicken empanadas. The times, though, are good enough. I learned a lot, this evening, from a community activist’s presentation on urban gardening. There is much good afoot, in Columbus, OH.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It is also the beginning of Lent, for Christians. I guess that means I should not eat chocolates, when walking by a church that’s letting out. Since Mom taught us not to eat while walking outside, I’m good. Valentine’s Day, this year, feels different. More on that, tomorrow. For now, here’s Ric Ocasek, with another take on Les Bon Temps.

Looney Tunes

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February 8, 2024- I love February, in spite of itself. I love it, despite the lingering cold, the slowly receding dark and the icy roads of morning and late night. I love the second calendar month because we humans respond to dreariness, with festivity: Lunar New Year, Super Bowl Sunday,Mardi Gras (I will never willingly say “Fat Tuesday”, anymore than I would say “plastic silverware”, “six-month anniversary” or “Feb-yoo-ery”. -but that’s me.), Valentine’s Day, and Ayyam-i-Ha (Days of God’s Essence, or Intercalary Days), which are the Baha’i gift giving period. This last is called Intercalary Days, because the Baha’i devotional calendar consists of nineteen months, with nineteen days each. That leaves four days (five, in a Leap Year), at the end of the year. 

It is also a month when I see an increase in behaviour, of the kind that the late President Reagan would call “Looney Tunes”. Maybe it’s a reaction to lingering cold, slowly receding darkness, icy roads, or All-American malapropisms, but I have to ask: Why insist on driving 60 mph, in the dark, on an icy 35 mph road, with heavy snow coming down? Why refuse to shovel one’s section of sidewalk, or at least have someone else do it, when there is 5-6 inches of snow on it, and the Sun isn’t coming out for quite a while? Why make such a furious mess about Taylor Swift?, and my fave-Why go against your own bill that would restore some sense of order to the Mexican border?

I will leave those questions, and the proper pronunciation of “February”, to those with intelligence quotients that are several points higher than my own-people like Taylor Swift, for example.

On a more serious note: My sincerest wishes that there be a dry period in California, so that our western neighbours can get on with repairs to roads, bridges and beach fronts.

Flexible

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January 28, 2024- The account that a fellow Legionnaire gave, of his ailing wife’s situation, was achingly familiar. He has arrived at the conclusion that he needs to cultivate a hobby. I heartily concurred with him on that. When one has lived and loved one person, for so many years, it is hard to prepare to change course. It took me three long years to get myself together. Even afterward, there were times when brief relapses happened-but when an ill-wisher challenged my judgement, I knew I was over the hump. Blocking and deleting people who attacked me, after 2014, came a lot easier, as did bringing myself to serious account. A far more peaceful environment has been the result.

I am on the cusp of a life change, still in the realm of possibility, that would rest on flexibility. That, in turn, depends upon inner tranquility. The centered soul can be flexible, prioritizing the needs of the one(s) that are loved the most. That’s all I will say, for the time being. Great changes, like Penny’s illness and death (2003-11), the sale of our house (2011), and the sale of a second home, due to the vagaries of double taxation (2014) have come and gone. I have survived, because there are other things that I have had to do, and have yet to accomplish.

One thing that I have re-started is to walk to places that are within two miles of Home Base, unless time is tight, or the weather is just plain awful. Today, I walked to a friend’s restaurant, connected with a neighbour the next street over from me and watched a bit of a football playoff game, and walked back to HB 1, about an hour later. Exercise at Planet Fitness followed. It’s time to continue my fitness pattern. I can’t be a support to another human being, if I slack off in my own space. So, onward and upward, it is.

The Blind Dancer, and Other Marvels

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January 26, 2024- He danced with his beloved woman, confidently in her arms and with a serene expression, as Galactogogues gave another rousing and stellar performance, this evening. Blind since birth, the gentleman is an accomplished musician in his own right, and a regular at Raven Cafe. He is one of many marvels of our town, in his instrumentality and in his dancing.

A couple who have had a hard life, and have stuck together for over forty years, are monitoring me, since we had a disagreement about something, two months ago. They seem almost saintly, in and of themselves, yet inquire of mutual friends about my well-being, or so I’m told. It is something of a marvel, that this is even important to them. My life is not all that prominent in Prescott.

My work day began with an expectation, on my part, that this would be a quiet day, working with Special Needs children. The school is understaffed, though, and it was no surprise when I was informed by the Office Manager that my day would be split: Morning, teaching Music and Afternoon with a First grade class. After a dicey start, I was able to get access to the computer and video, in time to teach three groups of children about rhythm and tempo, using rhythm sticks, whilst listening to varying speeds of a video-based tune. Of course, they liked the prestissimo the best.  The middle school choir was self-directed, which was fortunate, as the teacher had not left plans for their class period. 

After some sober assessment of the overall situation, the OM decided that I should have an hour break, at lunch, and had me teach one more music class, using the same plan. Then there was First Grade, reading the chapter of “Charlotte’s Web, in which Wilbur decides he wants to try to spin a web of his own. Wilbur, for the unitiated, is a pig. The old “when pigs can fly” quip pretty much gives an idea of what happened next. Charlotte rightly points out that, as a domesticated animal, he is fed by the farmer, and so, is not in need of a web. A spider, on the other hand, must fend for self. The children got the point, that they are cared for, but that many people have to fend for themselves. Charlotte also compares her web to a bridge that people build-and with that, we segued into the topic of bridges. The afternoon was delightful.

Just before attending the latter part of the Galactogues concert, I joined an hour-long devotional, discussing the topic of Resurrection. We Baha’is see it as spiritual rebirth, rather than full-on re-emergence of a physical body, from the dead. I have had several dreams , over the years since Penny died, in which she had come back alive and I felt the need to re-arrange my life to accommodate her renewed presence. Realizing, upon waking, that this was only a dream, and that she is in a good place, I came to understand that her spirit is in a constant state of renewal and advancement. Indeed, whilst sitting at her grave site, in early December, I got affirmation that her spirit is pleased with, and had involvement in, my new friendship with another woman. I think that, as one of my primary spirit guides, Penny has made sure that I have all manner of friends, of both genders. One’s spiritual progress, after death, is probably the greatest of marvels.

“Just Tryin’ To Get Home”*

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January 19, 2024- One sang a prayer to the angels. Another mused about her Love of thirty years. The third one sang to a dead friend. The fourth sang to his daughter, who was some distance away. Four musicians, offered the stuff of their hearts, in a round table of harmony.

We are all trying to get home-as *the song by Meg Bohrman so poignantly states. Those of us with home bases are ever looking to be ready for our spiritual Home, when the time comes. Others, whose time here figures to be a lot longer than mine, are also looking for a “forever home”, in which they can raise a family. Still others would just like a home that is not a tent in the woods, or a lean-to, or a cardboard box.

My home is in my heart. So, it feels like home, when I have served well, on a given day. It feels like home, when I have made someone smile. It feels like home, when I have been present for my new Love, and been strong for her, when we connect electronically, even though the physical distance between us is, for now, all too wide. It feels like home, when I reflect that my demons, known only to God, to my departed Angel and to me, have long been cast out. It feels like home, when I know that my little family, extended family and wide circle of friends are safe and well.

Home is in the heart.

Running the Maze

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January 6, 2024, Gallup- One of the classic experiments in Behavioural Psychology has rats running through a maze, in return for which any animal finding its way out will get a reward. 

It occurs to me that each of us can find ourselves running a maze, of sorts, in return for which we may receive a reward. I found myself working mazes, pretty much all day, and found the end, in each instance. 

Starting off, there were replies to a comment I posted on another social media outlet, regarding a local attempt at censorship. Most responders were opposed to the censorship ploy, but one, hailing back to bygone days, said that anyone going against conservative social norms deserves to be cut off. That really got the crowd going-piling on the hapless “good ol’boy”. I had to post that everyone was welcome on my page, so long as they did not advocate violence against those who hold a different point of view. I don’t go to drag shows, as they are not my cup of java. I also don’t go to rodeos, poker tournaments or gun shows. That doesn’t mean I think they should be banned, because I don’t. Parents can decide to not let their children view that format, and that’s their right. No one, though, should decide, for other informed adults, what they may see or not see-so long as the format does not include child pornography or horrific violence against defenseless people or animals. I found my way out of that maze.

Next up, there was a gathering to honour a Baha’i couple, who are leaving our area, in a few days. It was well attended, with great camaraderie and delicious food. There was one rub, for me. I talked with friends, past the time that came for me to head up to Farmers Market, and helping with breakdown. I found my way, belatedly, out of that maze and made my way through Saturday afternoon traffic, getting to the Market grounds by 12:50, only twenty minutes behind schedule. Bumping against the maze barriers wasn’t so bad.

The Market breakdown was no maze, though, and something I’ve wondered about for a while: ”How might our breakdown crew better connect with the set-up team?”  was answered, as a member of that team had stayed around, for that very purpose, and gave us hints as to how we might make their work easier. The suggestions were implemented, immediately.

Finally, there was the fairly quick packing and heading out to this old mining town, my rest stop on the way to Ghost Ranch. It turned out to be no maze. The skies were clear and the roads, bare. I am now at my standard resting place in town: The Dineh-owned Colonial/Ranchito Motel.