So Onward It Is

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January 1, 2022- We received our first, and possibly only snow of this new month, right about the time that the Boot dropped and the fireworks went off. It was also the time that I called it a night, as well as a year.

People have been wishing for 2022 to arrive since a) the inauguration of President Biden; b) the Delta variant started worming its way around; c) New Year’s Day of 2020. I personally adopted the time-honoured practice of taking one day at a time-back in 2002, when Penny first began showing real signs of decline. I have seen no reason to change that practice, since. Still, life does require some sort of planning.

So, today prompted me to think, first, about this day-which has ended up being largely a restful Saturday, aside from going to Farmers’ Market and helping scrape some of the ice off the asphalt in front of a good friend’s stall, and picking up a few items-including a beeswax candle. Then came a stop at Peregrine Books, for a journal, wall calendar and a copy of Carlos Ruiz Zafon’s “The City of Mist”. The laundromat was closed, so that’s put off until tomorrow, as is the carwash.

Then, I thought about this month. Visiting with Baha’i friends in western and southern Arizona will take up the second and fifth weekends. There are commitments here at Home Base, the third and fourth weekends. Work? I will choose my assignments carefully. After this past week’s fires in Colorado, I am also leaving myself open to Red Cross activity.

February looks quiet, right now. March will find me hopping on a train, a bus or some combination of the two-plus spot car rentals, and visiting family and friends in the Southeast, particularly Georgia and Florida. April and May will be a bit less frenetic, though visits to southern California Nevada are likely during that time. June and the first part of July will see a train trip up the West Coast, to several places in Canada and back across the U.S. The rest of July, August and September are open, and will be quiet, unless duty calls. October hopefully means Europe (Iceland, Sweden, Poland, Croatia, Bosnia, Germany and France-with a bit of Scotland possible). November and December will also be open. All of this depends on God being willing and the creek staying in its bed. After all, the last two journeys have been postponed twice. The postponements are probably a good thing. We Baha’is have received important guidance on the nine year spiritual plan that will certainly determine the basis for many, if not most, of my activities going forward. A spiritual element is present, whether I am at Home Base or going about the wider world. It is not, as someone once remarked, a simple matter of “going about here and there, taking photographs”. God knows, I could rent a drone to do that.

Having covered the “What” and “Where”, it’s time for the “Why”. Basically, I thrive on both connections with people-and on those connections being both virtual and real time. Rudimentary networks were established in 2014 and 2015, which I want to strengthen-along with making new connections, this year and in the four years to follow. This is how, to my mind and heart, the planet may be unified- with my doing a small but worthwhile part.

Happy 2022, and as another friend said yesterday, it’ll be a year-no promises, either way. We just set our courses and do our level best.

A Brief Look Backward

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December 31, 2021- Betty White chose an awkward time to leave, but it was her time. It was almost a fitting end to a year that took us up, down and sideways-and turned us every which way but loose. I don’t want to say that last one too loudly. We could use a few more years of Clint Eastwood being among us.

As it was, there were a number of people dear to my heart, some of renown and some not, who left this earthly plane in this year now itself winding down. My extended family whittled down, just a tad: My aunts-by-marriage-Sabina Kusch and Dorothy Madigan; Aunt Dorothy’s stepson, John-one of the cousins closest to me, over the years; Charlie Kusch, Jr., another cousin who made his friends and family laugh, much as his father did before him. Diane “Dee Dee” Bean- was the first girl I ever dated-not that it ever worked out. Richard “Dick” Dow, was a next door neighbour, from childhood, who kept his family home and his father’s business running, until he could scarcely move, himself. Two educators from my scholastic past, Anthony Struzziero and Eugene Hughes, both of whom I knew as fair-minded administrators. The bulk of the losses were fellows in Faith, Baha’i teachers, one and all: Val Latham, Jr., Gisela McCormick, John Eichenauer III, John Kolstoe, Joel Oron’a, Ethelene Crawford, Wilfred Smallwood, Donald Streets and Dwight Allen. I lost a car, and gained an SUV.

It was not a year defined by loss alone. A grand nephew, named Liam, came into our lives, early on. Strong new friendships emerged. I was able to return to California and Nevada, after a year’s hiatus. I made two long trips across country, both largely around the sale of our family home, and mother’s voluntary relocation. A week spent in Texas was a perfect springboard for my seventy-second year. I was able to pay respects to those fallen in the name of freedom, though not to the extent I might have. Still, time spent in north Tulsa and in Minneapolis was a step forward, for this one who preferred solitude, for so many years.

Our community has held its own against one or another viruses. As if to seem a strange return of normalcy-the flu is back. The nation resisted the temptation to default on democracy. Both major parties are learning that complacency is dying out among the masses-and a moribund attitude will not fly. We Baha’is paid homage to ‘Abdu’l-Baha, marking one hundred years since His passing-and renewing our commitments to live as He did. That renewed spark of Faith is finding its way to friends of other religious traditions as well-as witness the Baptism, on Christmas Eve, of a man who had found his fortunes sinking.

We did not master disaster, and there were far too many lives lost-in California, the Pacific Northwest, western Canada, Montana, Louisiana, Kentucky and Illinois. The latest conflagration, in Colorado, took no lives, but left another pair of communities with scenes out of a war movie. Two dozen other countries, from Mexico and Peru to Kenya and Indonesia, saw tragic losses in both infrastructure collapse and from the forces of nature. Then, there was/is Ethiopia, a country I only recently was hoping to visit in a year or two. Now, it is riven in pain, and we can only pray for sane attitudes to rise to the fore.

2021 will be history, in short order. How different the year that is thirteen minutes away will be, depends largely on how many of us have absorbed this year’s lessons-and to what degree.

Strength Shines Brightly

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December 30, 2021- The server/manager was sitting quietly with her toddler daughter, as I entered the otherwise empty room. There is that ting, ting ,ting that goes off, when the door opens, so she quietly arose and, with her regal bearing, greeted me with a slight smile and took my order. Shortly afterward, a local couple entered, followed by two other parties, and the restaurant’s owner, there only to give her hard-working friend a gift bag. Such is the way, at Double C Diner, in Moriarty, New Mexico.

I first happened by this spot, two years ago, whilst staying at the nearby Lariat Motel, on the first day of a cross-country drive. Back then, the little girl was just learning to get around on her own and was into everything. Moriarty is a town of close-knit families, so the mother was able to focus on her serving duties, while a fair number of aunts, uncles and cousins tended to the child, until her father showed up and took over.

When I choose places to patronize, the quality of the product does matter. Equally important, however, is the character of those who work there, their inner strength, work ethic, demeanour and the resulting radiance. That has made me go back to places like Zeke’s, The County Seat and Raven Cafe, here in Prescott; Macy’s, in Flagstaff; Harbor Breakfast, in San Diego; Henry and The Fish, and The Pantry, in Santa Fe; D’s Diner, in Wilkes-Barre-and Double C. The energy of the young staff helps, but it is the ambiance of joy and warmth that makes all the difference.

J had almost a sixth sense, quietly and seamlessly moving between her motherly duties and running the restaurant that was getting busier-while the cook and the dishwasher were going about their tasks. Everything happened in an atmosphere of calm strength. (Eventually, from watching another patron, it dawned on me that J was not going to run my bill back and forth to her register, so I got up and paid. Her twinkling eyes said it all- “You’re okay”.) That, too, characterizes every one of the places I mentioned above-and many others. Jess, (not her real name), is symbolic of what has kept, and will continue to maintain, our world in good form. It is focused energy, mindfulness of surroundings and recognition that all that is successful in life happens in its due time which will keep our Race on track.

As I drove back to Prescott this evening, that awareness, and the sense that all is going to be alright in our world-regardless of setbacks, or temporary misunderstandings, kept my thoughts in perspective.

Beatitude-Inspired

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December 22, 2021-

Blessed is the father who willingly changes diapers, uncomplainingly paints his daughter’s nails and enjoys her “tea party”.

Blessed is the mother who takes a few minutes and tosses baseballs into her son’s waiting glove, teaches him to wash his own clothes and make his own lunch.

Blessed is the son who practices humility, learns to sew on buttons, willingly washes the dishes and his own clothes and keeps an orderly room.

Blessed is the daughter who stands up for herself, never regarding her position in the family as subservient, who pursues her own dreams and who can maintain her own vehicle.

Blessed is the neighbour who looks out for others in his apartment block, on her street, in their village.

Blessed is the citizen who considers all points of view, who is not tied to only the immediate needs of own community, own nation or own generation, but who has the well-being of the planet in mind as well.

Blessed is the generation which loves those who came before and those who come after, as well as its own members.

Blessed are the people who look out for all sentient beings and who are open to communicating with those heretofore not known to them.

Who Adds Meaning?

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December 16,2021- Every so often, someone has tried to insert self-or someone else- into my life, with the expectation that I will meet the part of themselves that is somehow lacking. The part of myself that felt I owed a measure to those less fortunate has made an effort to fulfill that expectation.

Guess what? Three very different people have tried to take over my life, with various tactics-including playing the “Family Card”-even though that person and I have never met. That each time ended in a crash and burn did not surprise my heart of hearts. I am the sort who loves easily, but becomes intimate only with time.

Conversely, there are those whom I genuinely love, and from whom I want nothing, who just can’t bring themselves to accept a person like me, for whatever reason within themselves. Some are biological family and others in my adopted community, who are vociferous about loving mankind, yet have odd boundaries-which I must respect and from whom I keep a certain distance.

I have long felt that the “Flower Power” movement of the ’60s and ’70s, and all it subsequent offshoots, are a collective chimera. No one can wave a magic wand and love everyone unconditionally-without first loving self, unconditionally. No one can really reach fulfillment by pursuing a cause, unless the seeds of fulfillment within oneself are being assiduously watered and nourished.

Likewise, no one who looks to someone else to meet their needs, abandonment in childhood aside, can possibly expect to not accept the brunt of that fulfillment themselves. Baha’u’llah tells us not to support beggars, and to cast a discerning eye on grifters and liars.

It is my task, first and foremost, to add value (not necessarily monetary) to my life and to as many lives as I encounter. In these days of darkness before the Light of Solstice, Christmas and New Year’s Day; days of natural disasters, stubborn disease, feckless financial sectors and benighted politicians who work to deprive the citizenry of its due-for the sake of upholding enshrined privilege, I ask each reader-who adds value to your life? You should be at the top of that list. Those who suck the life out of you should be at the bottom-if they even remain in your life at all.

Please give this song by Rachael Schroeder a listen.

Evolution

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December 5, 2021- There was a lot of sameness about today: Breakfast at Post 6, the Sunday paper, and getting the laundry done, for another week. That set me to thinking, though, about what has changed, over the years, in a “then” and “now” fashion.

Then, I knew only people who looked, more or less, like me. I had little sense of how people of different backgrounds, who lived in other places, really thought, felt and acted. There was always a curiosity, though, and while interacting with people of other backgrounds, as I grew into manhood, was sometimes tough, we made it through to the other side as friends.

Now, I am blessed with so many people I love, our respective backgrounds, beliefs and affiliations mattering little.

Then, I knew the small area of Saugus and the surrounding towns and cities. Up north was New Hampshire, where we went on the first part , if not the entirety of every vacation. Down south was Cape Cod, which saw the second part of vacation, when times were good. Places like Providence, Rhode Island and Stamford, Connecticut were rare to our family itinerary, as was Martha’s Vineyard. Now, I have seen parts of all fifty states, have lived near, and walked all over, our nation’s capital. I have lived in Maine, during one of the worst blizzards that New England experienced during the late ’70s. My home, from 1978-86 and again, since 1992, has been Arizona. It was here, in the Southwest, that I met my darling wife, found my true Faith, and came to grips with the state of mind that set me apart from others, for so long.

There have been other places that made me grow. Jeju, Korea taught me the value of looking at life, through other cultural viewpoints. It was there that a son came into our lives, and where he would be hard-wired to seek his own helpmate, thirty years later. Life among Dineh and Hopi further expanded my sense of looking at the world through different lenses. Travels to places like Israel, the West Bank, Guyana, Taiwan, England, France, Luxembourg, Belgium and Germany showed me, time and again, how much we can all learn from one another.

There was a time when I was of a warrior mindset. People abroad could only be saved by us mighty Americans. Then, I went to Vietnam, and found out differently. There was a time when I was of a very exclusive mindset. It was best for others to assimilate into mainstream American culture. Meeting people who are Black, Brown, Indigenous to this continent, East Asians, speaking Spanish, Navajo, Apache, Korean, Mandarin, Creole and yet, going about their lives in ways that taught me volumes, and showed how much assimilation is a myth. There was a time when I had little use for homosexuals. Then, I kept meeting people whose sexual orientation differed from my own, and found they are, in many other ways, the same as I am. Then, too, I saw how some friends underwent the hard process of gender reassignment, and I saw just how these steadfast and forthright friends of mine, one of whom was my rock, when I was at the low point in the grieving process, struggle in very fundamental ways, with aspects of life that those of us who are straight and cisgender handle in de rigeur fashion. I see that no one is pressuring me to adapt to a lifestyle to which I have no attraction; nor should I exert pressure on those who are not drawn to mine.

There remains one “blind spot” of sorts: Grifters, beggars, takers.. Is it true that, being “kind to all who cross my path”, and “if someone asks for your coat, give him your trousers, as well”, should be taken at face value? I am generous in prosperity, and yet, I do not see that having limits to largesse, lest I become a ward of others, means that I lack trust in the Creator. The Prophet Muhammad spoke, “Trust in God, but tie your camel.” I have been homeless, albeit briefly. I have been destitute, also for a very short time. The key to rising out of penury has always lain in being proactive, open-minded and resilient.

Thus have I evolved.

Seventy-One and Counting, Day 4

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December 2, 2021- It was a fine thing, to again have hot water for my shower and for washing the dishes. It turned out that the landlord’s own apartment also had lukewarm water. That led to things being straightened out, in short order. It is also just in time, as the unusually mild weather we’ve had is about to transition to more seasonable temperatures.

Rampage. Four young people, two boys and two girls, were killed by a gunman, on Tuesday, at Oxford High School, north of Detroit. There are two counties which have now closed their schools for the rest of this week, at minimum, with either accomplices to the shooter or copycats, threatening to up the number of victims. Two weeks ago, an automobile was the weapon of choice, for an unhinged man, acting out of hatred. Tuesday, in Oxford, the killer reverted to a firearm, of the sort used so often to inflict pain and suffering, these past twenty-nine years. This is another of those instances that gives the lie to the claim that only guns can stop guns. The reality is that only mental health programs, getting to the roots of what make unstable people go over the edge, can augment firearms registration and safety training to the point where gun-based violence is a rarity, rather than a pestilence.

Choices. I have reached the point where my work assignments are going to be carefully selected. More of my efforts are to be self-care, with a fair amount of volunteer work, though that is turning out to be less than before. Keeping a healthy immune system will be the pet project for the foreseeable future. I have seen four of my most treasured spiritual teachers pass on this year, partly because they just reached an age where their systems gave out. There was, however, also the matter of compromised immunity.

“Welcome to Earth”. This is the heading on the December issue of National Geographic Magazine. It is intended to take a fresh look at our planet, with a specific focus on the Serengeti Plain ( a place I fully intend to visit, along with other places in Africa, sometime between 2024-26). There are pieces devoted to each aspect of the ecosystem-including the human element, without which no amount of goodwill and effort at saving the beleaguered wildlife will suffice to keep this global treasure for the sake of generations to come-both for the area’s residents and all those around the planet, who value the place from afar. This will be a classic edition of NGM, much like the special editions on France, Australia and The Oceans.

There is so much to be done, locally and abroad. I can only promise to take the best care of my autumnal self. From there, everyone I love will be well-tended.

Seventy-One and Counting, Day 3

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December 1, 2021- The little long-haired dachshund, standing outside the small cafe, looked over her shoulder at me, as I sat by the window, and smiled as if she knew me from somewhere. Our last dog, of the same breed, was euthanized eleven years ago, at the age of seventeen. Lady had severe arthritis at the time and could not move without screeching. Maybe canine energy flows through the Universe, the way human energy does, or maybe the animal could just sense that I was taken with her sweet expression, as her owner looped the leash around a chair leg, while he went into the nearby herb shop.

Catch-up. This morning, in particular, was set aside for paying the rent, recycling old newspapers and going through the freezer & refrigerator, to make sure any overlooked stale and rancid stuff was tossed. The afternoon was a bit quieter, visiting a bit with friends from Prescott Valley and helping my Hiking Buddy get some of her product to the P.O.

Duplicates, triplicates, etc. Checking the contacts on my i-Phone, I see that nearly all of them were entered at least twice. So, after locating the ‘delete’ tab, at the bottom of each ‘Edit’ page, I managed to start clearing the redundant entries. It’ll probably take a half hour to get through the whole list, including surname changes and removing the names of those who have passed away. This is what happens when importing data from one phone system to another, and getting no confirmation of the import, at first. Retrying was apparently unnecessary.

Stocks in Trade. It most always happens that those with a heavy investment in the stock market use the last trading day of any given month as their pay day. There is always a lame excuse: “Because of ____________ (fill in the blanks)”, but the reason is the same. In essence, this is how some folks pay their bills. The rest of us just bide our time, leave our investments alone and sooner, rather than later, the funds are on the upswing again-until the next end-of-month or day before a holiday.

Whose Body Is It? The Supreme Court Justices weighed in on the matter of whether abortion is a choice or a matter of government restriction. There was no “final” decision made on the matter, but here is the thing, imho. Life begins at conception AND the matter of whether it proceeds to birth lies between a mother and her physician, with hopefully some RESPONSIBLE and informed input from the father. A rapist, or an incestuous man forfeits any claim to having been responsible. It falls to the mother’s moral compass, as to whether the child should be carried to term. Again, in my humble opinion, genetic testing should NOT be the basis for such decision making, if gender or potential disability are the criteria for opting to abort. As a man who is past child- siring age, I recognize that my opinions are not exactly going to be solicited. However, I conclude with three points: 1. A fetus is not brain-dead, despite the statement made to that effect by one of the Supreme Court justices. The level of brain development should have nothing to do with the mother’s decision. That is the stuff and nonsense behind the odious theory of eugenics. 2. Devaluing a person because of gender is precisely the reason why pre-birth testing is also odious. People in societies where women and girls are historically devalued should not be given license to indulge in pre-birth slaughter. 3. Finally, I have yet to meet a mother who opts for abortion who is NOT scarred emotionally by her choice. It is arguably the most terrifying situation in which a human being may be placed. The last thing she needs is to have government in the driver’s seat. The forces of education and nurturance need to be in place, very early in the life of an adolescent -boy or girl and definitely need to be there for a woman who has to make the decision. Regardless of the choice made, the woman needs to be enveloped in love. Too much can, and will, go wrong when a patriarchy or detached bureaucracy-including SCOTUS- imposes its dictates on the lives of women who are of child-bearing age.

That’s my take, and I’m sticking to it.

Seventy-One and Counting, Day 2

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November 30, 2021- Son was busy, during our after-lunch walk, counting any and all critters he spotted along the nature trail that wends it way along Mill Creek, just east of the apartment complex which was, until this afternoon, my Texas home for a week. There were eight squirrels, a crane and probably five green beetles of one kind or another. Such is the condition of an ecosystem that is in the early stages of a managed recovery.

Lunch. Yunhee made her third classic Korean meal in a row. After mandu gook (dumpling soup), and miyok gook (seaweed soup) came bulgogi (the famous Korean marinated barbecued beef). Every meal taken at home was heavenly.

Farewells. I left my little family behind, after a lowkey, but well-spent week. We did not leave the house much, but did take in a few nature trails-including the aforementioned Mill Creek Trail; the latest James Bond film-replete with an Agent 007 who is not Bond, James Bond-and a JB mini-he; and a couple of restaurants-the surprisingly good Tommy Tamale and the earnest, but not overwhelming, Jake’s Burgers and Beer. About the latter, the perky server, Maria, took good care of us, when she wasn’t hanging out with her friend-but that is a maturity thing, not a matter of character. The fare itself was lackluster.

Aram and I had important conversations about spirituality and preparing oneself for parenthood-before even trying to start a family. He has a clear vision about both matters, which I find re-assuring. I was also able to give him extra moral support, while he finished a college project he found nettlesome at times. I’m ever happy to be with my little family.

Return flight. I wandered into an American Airlines bank of check-in stations that were apparently meant for connecting passengers. The agents looked bored out of their skulls, so they were more than happy to check my bag and direct me to the correct gate. TSA is a bit more exacting at DFW than at Sky Harbor. Shoes and belts still come off, and the efficient site manager has bins underneath each standing point along the conveyor belt. Woe be unto anyone who takes a bin from the used pile, which is unsanitized. The manager reminded me of Queen Latifah’s character on the current “The Equalizer”- as officious as needed, very professional and very sure of self. The confusion over a delay of the flight turned out to be confusion, and not fact. My flight to Phoenix left on time. I had a relatively brief waiting period in the boarding area and the plane was loaded on time. Nice seatmates, from Louisiana and California bantered, mostly with one another. I occupied myself by watching a silent screening of “Kong vs. Godzilla”, which I have seen as a captive audience, once before. The Hollow Earth theory is something of which I had heard before, when I was about twelve. Thankfully, it has been relegated to B-grade SyFy.

Sky Harbor. Once on the ground in Phoenix, it took only fifteen minutes to retrieve my checked bag. I had changed the shuttle time to Prescott, owing to the rumoured flight delay. So, back upstairs it was, to Blue Mesa Tacos. The new cook was being strictly supervised by the manager, but she was doing a fine job on her own-for which I praised her. The quesadilla was perfect.

Around 6:20, the shuttle to Prescott arrived. As there was space available, I made a quick appeal to the driver and explained the switcheroo. He was glad to take me along, and by 8:30, we were all back at Home Base.

All good things come to an end, followed by other good things.

Seventy-One Years Down

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November 28, 2021, Grapevine- It was the best Korean lunch I’ve had, and I am not just speaking out of prejudice. My daughter-in-law prepared a soup of seaweed, braised beef and garlic, accompanied by several side dishes (kimchi, small grilled and shredded mushrooms, grilled tofu and pressed, layered vegetable roll) and steamed rice. Yunhee has learned a highly-developed cuisine form, very well. This was my birthday meal, though we would have a late supper at a nearby burger joint, this evening.

The early evening saw us take in the latest James Bond film, “No Time to Die”, the apparent swan song for actor Daniel Craig, in the role of the legendary secret agent. No spoilers here, but it was faithful to the Bond narrative of fantasy car chases, explosions and mass disruptions of fancy, gala events.

It has been a most eventful seventy-first year of earthly life. My childhood home was sold, as Mother moved, of her own volition, into an Assisted Living residence. One of my closest cousins lost a battle with cancer. Two trips eastward, in May and in July, were both generated and affected by these events. Concern with justice, both deferred and realized, led to visits to the Greenwood community, in Tulsa and to George Floyd Square, in Minneapolis. I was able to reconnect with two cousins and their wives after many years. Strong new friendships were made at my Home Base of Prescott. COVID19, while still influential in my public and private activities, ceased to be an overwhelmingly restrictive force, especially after my receipt of two Moderna vaccines (with the understanding that these are strictly season to season in effectiveness), which combined with a proactive immunity regimen and being blessed with O+ blood, have allowed me to move along with a moderate level of caution. Three minor, but nettlesome, skin tumors were removed. Visits to Carson City, in the spring and to northern New Mexico and the San Diego area, this Autumn, were thus able to take place without any negative results.

As Year 72 begins, I join my fellow Baha’is in entering the second century of what is called the Formative Age of our Faith, a time in which its affairs are managed by ordinary people, acting in elected assemblies, following the guidance of its Founder’s Teachings, as explained further by ‘Abdu’l-Baha and His grandson, Shoghi Effendi, who served as Guardian of the Faith from 1921 until his passing, in 1957. We are all charged to advance spiritually, both individually and in groups.

My work with children and teens continues, though not on a full-time basis, given official retirement last November. So, too, does work with non-profit agencies, including the Red Cross. Hikes and travel will continue, of course, though the latter will see more use of trains and buses, with my Saturn Vue staying within the areas of California and the five southwestern states.

I look ever forward to what further challenges and blessings may arise.