The Arc of Family

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July 16, 2023- The infant boy responded, calmly and contentedly , to being passed into the arms of his grandparents, aunts and adult cousins. All he wanted was to occasionally check in with his loving mother. He seemed to sense that this was no regular gathering. It was, in fact, his grandmother’s birthday.

As a friend of hers, for the past ten years, I was the only guest not officially part of the family, but no matter. I regard each of them as if we were familial. Her introduction to me, of essential oil supplements was the start of my return to physical and mental health, after nearly three years of treading water, after Penny’s passing. I watched her youngest daughter, the little boy’s mother, grow into a strong, forward-thinking woman. I have been present at each of the family’s milestones, since the Fall of 2013, and helped with each of my friend’s three moves since offering to help with the first one. They, in turn, have made a place for me at several holiday tables.

I will be present at an important family event, tomorrow morning, prior to leaving on a twelve-day visit to the Northwest and Carson City. The family unit will be standing by my friend, as one, at the proceeding that will set the course for the next phase of her life. She has strong, fine children, siblings, nieces and nephews and a man who cares deeply for her-and then, there’s I, who also holds her, and the family, close to my heart.

The family arc is solidly anchored-and it is one of many, including my own biological family, that imparts strength and surety to my life. The little boy has a strong framework for his growth into manhood.

Dancing Barbie, Tuna Stew and Songs in the Round

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July 15, 2023- Barbie’s “mommy” gave her mother’s friend a gift bag, with a nice tall candle and a decorated card. Then, Barbie got to dance, do somersaults and yoga poses, all without complaint-as dolls are wont to do. Barbie finally got a rest, when her mommy got thirsty. Barbie’s mommy is on her way to being a strong, independent, thoughtful adult human.

That was how the evening started. Beforehand, I learned that my landlord was perfectly okay, as was the gentleman who fell, last night. As I suspected, heat prostration was at play, in both cases. I know how that works, having had my more rotund self experience it in 2012, whilst passing through Uvalde.

We did have a rather toasty day here, which didn’t get in the way of our team’s breakdown of the Farmers’ Market, thanks to sunscreen, proper desert headgear, plenty of water and our truck. Tomorrow will be another dose of July Fry, possibly reaching 119 in Phoenix, higher elsewhere in the Sonoran Desert and 102 here.

Getting back to the evening, I went to Raven Cafe for a Songwriters in the Round, set of performances by four engaging musicians, two of whom I’ve heard several times before. The tone was set, in the crowded room, by my thoroughly enjoying a new item: Basque Stew-which is tomato bisque with chunks of tuna, nicely stewed. I admit to being a bit apprehensive, as tuna has been either in a sandwich or in rolls of rice, as sushi, in my long experience with the meat. It was actually nicely spiced-and the fish was not overpowering.

I will let the Raven’s promo introduce Songwriters in the Round:

“Nashville-style songwriter rounds consist of 3 or 4 musicians trading songs and stories for an engaged audience of song lovers and supporters. This is our first one! Join us this Saturday as we see songwriters Tyller Gummersall, Stephy Leigh Griffin, Rachael Plays Guitar and Kevin Rueb step away from their bands to give you a raw and intimate glance into what it takes to be a songwriter.”

Stephy Leigh and Tyller have played, with their bands, at the Raven in the recent past. So, some of their songs were familiar-but done acoustically, sans bandmates, gave the tunes an entirely different, more intimate feel. Kevin, with a tongue-in-cheek, irreverent view of sexist behaviour by men-and its back-at-ya reaction from women, got rousing laughter from many of us, including his wife, who played along joyfully, during his hilarious take-down of the “Magic Mike” phenomenon. Rachael was the most soulful, directly-sharing of her experiences, and made no apologies for doing so. I look forward to her “Album Launch” concert, at the end of next month. I would gladly go to see any of these folks, time and again.

Time goes on, whether days are hot, cold or the great in-between; whether spent hither or yon; whether productive or laconic. Each day brings its gifts and each day exacts its costs. So do I take the best of what life brings, along with its expectations for recompense. On balance, I’d say this life is a bounty.

Thirty-Five Gratitudes

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July 7, 2023- “When a thought of war comes, oppose it by a stronger thought of peace. A thought of hatred must be destroyed by a more powerful thought of love.” – ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, 1911. I have had competing impulses today, and the stronger message from my spirit guides is to focus on gratitude. I have a lot of angst and self-criticism going on today, but not much can be done to rectify the causes of all that-without pondering and listing all the reasons for being grateful.

Today, my son turned 35, and so I feel it useful to list thirty-five things, places and people for which/whom I am grateful.

35. Grand Canyon National Park-both North and South; . 34. San Diego; 33. Dietary protein shakes that have worked; 32. The core group of readers of this blog site; 31. Those who are committed to peace, through dialogue; 30. My large extended family; 29. Newfoundland; 28. My childhood home town- Saugus, MA; 27. My variegated playlist; 26. My book collection; 25. Planet Fitness; 24. The movement towards inclusion and equality; 23. Horses; 22. Historical sites-both domestic and worldwide; 21.Century Lounge and the Raven Cafe; 20. Cape Breton Island; 19. My comfortable Home Base (apartment); 18. Prescott Farmers Market; 16. Brittany (the region); 15. Santa Fe; 14. Butterflies; 13. The ocean; 12. Whales and dolphins; 11. Reusable bags; 10. Mountains; 9. Sunrises and sunsets; 8. Colorado; 7. Arizona as a whole; 6. My closest friends; 5. Children and teenagers; 4. My siblings; 3. My parents; 2. My little family; 1. Spirit guides (and the Baha’i teachings).

This list is not written in order of importance, though the top five are certainly on my mind and in my heart 24/7.

Close The Gate

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July 4, 2023- No, not THAT gate! Anyone familiar with ranch culture would tell you that the phrase is one of the first instructions given a child growing up, and is expected of family members and visitors alike, when going out of the portal that keeps livestock confined. It is a generalized ethic, that calls for each member of the ranch community to keep all others in mind, in everything one does.

Baha’u’llah admonishes us to “Be fair to yourself and others.” This teaching applies to all situations, and is, when you think about it, a prerequisite to a peaceful world. Even one’s sworn enemy deserves to be treated with dignity and have good qualities acknowledged.

So, courtesy and fair treatment start with our dealings with family, then with neighbours, community members, in the work place and on up the chain to state, nation and the world as a whole. Nowhere is this more critical, and often overlooked, than when engaging with traffic.

At the conclusion of a most well-orchestrated fireworks display, this evening in Prescott Valley, there was a potentially unwieldy amount of traffic that had to be moved along. We have a deeply ingrained “four-way stop” mentality here, so there was a smooth egress system that kept things moving, albeit slowly, with people alternating exiting, even when there was a five-way reality, as each lane was honoured in its turn.

“Close the gate”-just not in the neighbour’s face!

Heroes

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July 3, 2023- He was arguably one of the finest chefs I ever knew, although my own knowledge of him was fleeting. His wife of forty years was not far behind, in the culinary field. They were, aside from their mastery of the kitchen, a handsome couple, as far back as I can remember. They were both athletic, and highly personable. Rod would tease the heck out of a number of people, including yours truly-but I never got the sense he was putting us down. He and Kathy were never elitists. Rodney P. Lavoie, Senior was a coach, a craftsman and a master of so much that he took on. He was just one of those people whom it was not necessary to know well, in order to admire. It was a shock to learn of his passing, early last week. He was a genuine hero to many young people, in and around the town of my youth.

I’ve had occasion to ponder who the heroic figures in my life have been. What determines that status? It’s not age. I have seen heroic acts by people as young as six. It’s not gender. Many of my heroes, even role models in certain respects, have been women and girls. It’s not familial. Though my parents and relatives are high on the list, there are many, even sometime adversaries, who are there as well. I don’t even have to know them personally. Public figures, and occasional strangers, who don’t shy from tending to the well-being of those around them,

Two men in a nearby community took four relative strangers into their homes, despite their both being fairly ill. One of them has had cancer turn for the worse, and reluctantly asked his boarder to move on, as room had to be made for a live-in caretaker. Another kind soul quickly stepped up and provided living space for the young man. These acts of loving kindness are also the stuff of heroism.

As a community, we have taken time to honour the brave nineteen men who died on Yarnell Hill, ten years ago. Over a dozen First Responders have died in the line of duty, since that harrowing day. That they exhibited heroism and sacrifice goes without saying. The most heartening aspect of this is that their children, and others who learn of them, are drawing the right lessons. Herosim will continue.

David Bowie’s depiction of two brave souls standing by the Berlin Wall, in the dark days of Soviet rule, says it all.

“What Would They Want For You Now?”

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June 23, 2023- A group of about two dozen young men walked into a Los Angeles session that offered poetry and meditation, to address social dysfunction. One by one, the men spoke to the three “experts”, saying that all this philosophy was good on its face, but that the reality they faced each day was far more ominous- 9 mm weapons pointed at them, suspicious police tailing and stopping them, food deserts, joblessness, and so on. Besides, the men said, they knew too many of their peers who had been slain on the streets, in the past year.

The experts wisely acknowledged that there were too many souls who hadn’t been honoured, so they asked each of the men to go outside and gather up a stone, for each person they knew, who had been killed in the last year. After several minutes, the men came back inside, each carrying many rocks. They sat down, a candle was lit and placed in the center of the circle, and each person was asked to give a name to each of the stones. He was then to say the name of the victim, and place the stone next to the candle. This continued, until all the stones were set around the candle, honouring each of the murder victims.

Jack Kornfield, a social psychologist, and author of “A Path With Heart”, which helped me so much, in the early stages of grief, in 2011, was one of the “experts”. He posed a question to the men: “What would they want for you now?” One by one, the members addressed that question, in a pensive and serious manner.

As I listened to this presentation, I thought of Dad, Penny, Brian, my in-laws, grandparents, aunts and uncles, even the most rambunctious of my cousins. I think they would want me to know peace, to have arrived at self-acceptance and to keep on in the path of service. Each of them sacrificed, in one way or another, that the world they left behind might be a better place. Friends, like John H., Deedee B., Donna G., Sean W., Mario M., even Frankie Q., would want me to be doubly sure that the person inside this frame was jettisoning the baggage that held me back, for so long.

I have to want the same for myself-and believe me, it is happening-slowly, but steadily.

He Did So

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June 22, 2023-The night I came home, inebriated after a party at work, Mother was waiting in the dark. She asked me what time I thought it was, and after my saying it was Midnight, I learned it was 2 a.m. Dad, as it happened was down cellar, doing some work, and came when called. I had already gotten a “Pow in the kisser” by the time he got upstairs. He told me what he thought of me, and it wasn’t anything complimentary, but it wasn’t profane, either.

I think my father stopped using corporal punishment when I was about eight, and even before that, I only remember him spanking me once. As for telling us what he wanted done, it was mainly by force of example. When I was expected to be out in the yard, shoveling dirt or putting rocks in the wheelbarrow, and dumping them along the edge of the marsh across the street, he was already outside determining what area was mine to work, what area was Cheryl’s and, after a few years, what area was to be worked by David. Dad always did the heavy lifting, and built the fire underneath the large boulders, then sprayed them with cold water and took the sledge hammer, to break them up.

When a medical emergency came, for one of my siblings, it was he who flew up and down the stairs, throwing items necessary for an overnight stay, into a cloth bag, then carrying the hurting child downstairs and to the car, while I had my arms around Mom and Sis. He took care of all such crises, as best he could-and it was always good enough, in my book.

Dad applied himself to his work, just as much, though his heart was with us, always. His gift of gab let the time get away from him, when out on errands, but he always made up for it to Mom, with a quality night out or an occasional weekend away, as we got older. He would have choked at the term “Date Night”. Dates, for people of my parents’ generation, stopped at the altar. Thenceforth, it was “our night out”, and either Cheryl, one of our cousins or I minded the younger kids.

What he wanted done, he did as an example-and we were never confused as to how to go about it. That all stopped, thirty-seven years ago today. Thankfully, the road maps left for us are still clear. His image and voice are,as well.

Paternal Love

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June 18, 2023- Dad taught each of his four children who were of sound mind the basics of automobile maintenance, the basics of responsibility and the basics of getting along with others. A work ethic was instilled in each of us, and each of us holds on to that, to this day. He held us to fairly high standard-and any lapse in conduct, once he taught us, was on the individual child. He played no favourites- and I, as the oldest although the most troubled, was not cut any slack. It was no fault of his, when I made bad choices-and it was only fortunate that no one was hurt by those choices, except me.

Dad’s demeanor was steady, and while his manners were those of the blue collar French-Canadian family in which he grew up, he was a gentle man, devout and not given to cursing. He rarely, if ever, punished us physically. He loved only his wife, our mother, even through the stressful teen and young adult years of their youngest child, who was in constant pain and was unable to communicate in other than the simplest language-and frustrated acting out. He loved the five of us, but in the end, I fear he did not love himself enough.

His passing took place thirty-seven years ago, this coming Wednesday. My siblings gathered at the family home, post-haste. I traveled from Arizona, after gathering food for Penny, who had to remain behind. After a long stretch of driving and flying, I was there, too, for our mother. The subsequent wake and funeral saw nearly 500 people pay their respects, and none of us would have expected any less. Penny’s parents drove from New Jersey-a clear symbol of the friendship that had developed between our two fathers. Family was there from all over New England and several from further afield. “Freddie” Boivin was treasured.

Camp Three, Day Three: Burritos, Enchiladas and Two Kinds of Salsa

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June 15, 2023, Bellemont- The Enchilada Lady called out on her bullhorn: “Comida, AHORA!”, announcing “Lunch, now!” Children and teens filed into the ramada in fairly short order. They chose from among the left-over burritos, fresh enchiladas and quesadillas, which the three mamas had lovingly prepared. There was plenty of salsa-hot and mild, but no beginner stuff. Chef, needless to say, was enjoying this respite-which ended with her spaghetti and meat sauce, this evening.

My day was filled with observing light repairs, helping lift a couple of generators over some rocks and answering whatever questions I could, from the property manager. He seemed generally pleased, overall, with how the camps are going. My instructions for tomorrow’s camp closing are quite clear.

After spaghetti and meat sauce, it was back to salsa. This time, though, it was salsa dancing. The campers and their chaperones swayed, jumped about and worked out any frustrations they may have accumulated-either here or before they arrived. There is much to be said for dance parties. It certainly made their last night at camp a treasure to be savoured.

This is the vibrant life of a connected community. It is why we need the energy of people from the southern part of our hemisphere, the productive, connected energy, that is, a lot more than they need to offer it. The people who are in our midst, for another morning at least, exude love, balance between work and play and a sense of community responsibility for the well-being of all children and youths in their group. They also look out for us, their hosts.

This is how it used to be, when I was growing up-before anonymity, isolation enabled by garage-doors as ingress and egress points and the casting of the chase after security as the primary goal of so many. The neighbours knew one another-often as friends, and they knew us, as if we were their own-because, in a sense, we were. The child who was cared for, who was valued, was less likely to cause trouble.

Here, for another ten hours, is the answer to much of what hurts America so. Here is the counterpoint to that with which so many associate our neighbour nations to the south: A strong family structure, telescoped into a strong community network.

Camp Three, Day One: Comida Es Mas Deliciosa

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June 13, 2023, Bellemont- The day began at 5 a.m., as I had to leave Home Base to get up here in time for three van loads of campers, who were supposed to arrive at Noon-but something told me they would be here early, and besides, the water delivery truck was due to get here at 9:30.

It was a light traffic day, so I actually stopped at Brewed Awakening for a light breakfast and got here well in time for the delivery-no pun intended. The campers arrive at 11:15 and were able to get oriented and settled before lunch. I also had no trouble getting everything unlocked and set up, while they unwound a bit.

This is a smaller group than anticipated, but it is certainly a well-balanced and well-behaved party of 26. Three mothers accompanied the campers, which helps-as they have a gentle but firm set of expectations of the children, one which matches our own. The mothers also came with a feeding mission. They have a full menu plan, which they will prepare. This brought a smile to Chef’s face. She sat and was content to offer advice about the equipment, when asked.

My task was to run to a store and buy pillows and slips, for ten people. Fortunately, the items were available at a discount. The rest of the time was quite relaxed. As astrological signs point to a lifting of the tension that intermittently bothered many of us, these past five weeks, this first day of a 3.5 day session augurs well for a fairly calm camp.

The best thing about today, though, was the dinner. Red and white enchiladas were accompanied by rice and a rich sauce that resembled Louisiana Red Gravy. Mas sabor y delicioso!