Category Archives: Family

The Long Run

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Education, Family, impediments, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

April 13, 2022- It almost seems, some days, like I spend the day on Zoom. It sometimes seems that I pull the face mask out of my pocket, at random, unexpected moments, getting appreciative nods from the fearful and glares from those who see their own freedom under assault. As the pandemic waxes and wanes, sometimes within the same week, its short-and long-term legacies show how they are with us, ready to do their jobs at a moment’s notice.

Health is a funny thing. I have managed, with the skillful help of my dermatology team, to beat back basal cells that had accumulated over a few years of spotty sunscreen applications-or perhaps, as a gadfly told me in Miami Beach, a few weeks ago, from applying the wrong type of sunscreen. Before these, there was my almost total disregard for my own health, both physical and mental, whilst taking care of my beloved wife in her final years.

Now I am mostly back on an even keel. There is much to be done, here during the next two months and in mid-summer; on the road at other points during the year. A period of nine years, 2022-2031, starts in a week, during which the world will hear and see a lot more about the Baha’i Faith and the Teachings of its Founder, Baha’u’llah, than many have heard up to now. I will have apart in that effort, both here in Prescott and in many other places. On my last journey, to the Southeast, most discussion of Baha’i teachings took place in a family setting, and in short conversations with a sharp-minded person from the Netherlands.

The long run, however, will see more than new wine in this old bottle. As we keep seeing, a lot of things to which we are accustomed, both big and small, have fallen away. This will long continue-in areas from statecraft to roles within the family; from modes of transportation to the design and organization of dwellings. All of this re-organization, however disconcerting it may be at times, will result in a far more peaceful world.

“This is the Day in which God’s most excellent favors have been poured out upon men, the Day in which His most mighty grace hath been infused into all created things. It is incumbent upon all the peoples of the world to reconcile their differences, and, with perfect unity and peace, abide beneath the shadow of the Tree of His care and loving-kindness. It behoveth them to cleave to whatsoever will, in this Day, be conducive to the exaltation of their stations, and to the promotion of their best interests. Happy are those whom the all-glorious Pen was moved to remember, and blessed are those men whose names, by virtue of Our inscrutable decree, We have preferred to conceal.
Beseech ye the one true God to grant that all men may be graciously assisted to fulfil that which is acceptable in Our sight. Soon will the present-day order be rolled up, and a new one spread out in its stead. Verily, thy Lord speaketh the truth, and is the Knower of things unseen.”- Gleanings from the Writings of Baha’u’llah, page 346.

On Not Being Invisible

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

April 11, 2022- Dr. Carlos Montezuma was a Yavapai, literally sold, as a boy, to an Italian photographer, for 30 pieces of silver, by his Akimel O’odham captors, in October, 1871. Named Wassaja (“Beckoning”), by his parents, he was renamed by his adoptive father, Carlos Gentile, as Carlos Montezuma. He grew up to fully avail himself of formal education, becoming the second Indigenous person to earn a medical degree, after Susan Picotte. Carlos Montezuma invented several medical procedures and devices, for which he never has received official credit. In fact, even mentioning those in print would likely get me in trouble for “copyright violation”.

One thing that Carlos Montezuma did get accredited to his name was founding the Society of American Indians, giving voice to First Nations people, long before the American Indian Movement took it up another notch, in the 1970s. Thanks to Carlos, the road to visibility became clear to the people who were here, long before Columbus, or the Vikings. No one today can say, with a straight face, that they are unaware of our twin continents’ original inhabitants and at least some of what they accomplished.

I say this, because there are still many, across ethnic groups, age categories, genders, who are treated as invisible. One of the things I notice about reaction to my blog is that those posts which give credit or recognition to specific people in marginalized roles are also those posts which get the least acknowledgement. Human nature trends towards the “golden rule of power”: “He who has the gold, makes the rules.” In following this trend, the readers who choose to ignore the “uninteresting” characters, say much about themselves and their own self-concept.

The fact is, though, my friends, each of us has a point of interest about oneself. I learn much from the barristas, the janitors, the bussers, the homeless and the random little kid who wanders about, looking for his family. No one gets to be invisible, in the long run.

Through A Water Wonderland

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel, Uncategorized

April 5, 2022, Meridian, MS-

Peachtree Amtrak Station, Atlanta

The train pulled out of Peachtree Station, nearly an hour behind schedule. We have made progress, by fits and starts, along the way towards New Orleans. Now, we are leaving the commercial hub of eastern Mississippi. This is where the Atlanta crew got off and a crew that will be with us, until New Orleans, has come on.

The journey from Atlanta was through rain, until we got to Birmingham.

Downtown Birmingham, AL

Since then, the skies have been clear and the ground has been wet. Wetlands and rivers abound, through the central swath of Alabama and Mississippi. The Black Warrior and Tombigbee are particularly dominant. The former (below) has been made into a series of reservoirs.

Black Warrior River, near Tuscaloosa, AL

Ms. Blackstone, sitting across from me, put the whole concept of why some of us go on journeys into perspective-and one that fits nicely with the conversation I had with my brother, Dave, last night. In her view, each of us who goes out each day, whether close to home or further afield, is on assignment from the Holy Spirit. This helps explain the seeming randomness of some of the events that take place-who we meet, where we meet them and the tenor of our interactions. It also explains both the pleasant and less than pleasant events that happen, and the lessons drawn from each. It also gives me an affirmation that I am on the right course in this life.

In a few short days, I will be back at Home Base, with a full slate of “assignments” from the Creator of us all. I wish Ms. Blackstone well, in her daily work and am certain that, despite the dark clouds that encircle so much of humanity, the forces of division and darkness that prey on the fears of so many will fall short in their efforts to ensnare the human race.

Through downpours, tornadoes, bombs and bombast, stay strong.

Two City Walks and a Tapas-try

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Historical, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 4, 2022, Atlanta- I set out in mid-afternoon, to pay respects to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on the 54th anniversary of his assassination. I was not able to reach the actual memorial site, but that is just part of the overall wholeness of this day.

I started out by returning the vehicle that had taken me so many places, in three states, over the past fifteen days. Driving a nearly state-of-the-art automobile was a fine new experience-even with the shrill noise, when another car was in the lane to which I wanted to turn(very useful) or when the car in front stopped short(even more useful). All that was missing was EV status-but someday….

Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority (MARTA) has a very full system of stations, from Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, in the south to Doraville in the northeast and Sandy Springs in the northwest. There is also an east-west line, branching in each direction, from downtown Atlanta. This system took me from the airport to North Avenue, from which I walked up Peachtree, to this gem of a coffee house.

Land of a Thousand Hills Coffee House, midtown Atlanta
Mission Statement of Land of A Thousand Hills Coffee House

From there, it was a clean walk, across midtown, to Georgia Institute of Technology. One of my nephews is an alumnus of this vibrant, expanding school. It’s grown a lot since Nick was here, as have a good many colleges and universities. One place that has stayed the same is The Biltmore. Once one of a chain of deluxe hotels, it is now a luxury apartment complex.

The Biltmore, midtown Atlanta

Technology Square is the heart of GIT. It extends for three or four city blocks.

The Heart of Georgia Tech
The Language Institute and Administration Building, GIT’s equivalent of Old Main
Dogwoods in bloom, midtown Atlanta

It wouldn’t be spring in Georgia, without the dogwood flowers.

Wimbish House, aka Atlanta Woman’s Club

My afternoon walk, in the Peachtree area, yielded a few gems. Walter Downing built this masterpiece, Wimbish House,in 1922. Women from across Atlanta meet here, to launch projects aimed at civic improvement, in several areas of community life. Not far down the street is the Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta.

Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta
“Let Me Share The Sky With You”, by Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya

It struck me that this is exactly the sort of scene that Dr. King would have loved to have seen, had he lived into his seniority. It is fairly easy to pronounce Amanda’s family name, if one takes the time to look at it and absorb the power of her work.

I found the GPS on my phone was not enamoured of giving directions to someone willing to walk 1.5 miles from Peachtree to the King Memorial. It is definitely a vehicle-oriented system, even in this day and age. I headed back to my hotel, in plenty of time to join my brother for an evening at a Basque-style tapas restaurant, Cooks and Soldiers. San Sebastian, in Spain’s Basque region, is widely-known as a gastronomic paradise. The presentation of exquisite pintxos (Basque for “tapas”), was one item at a time, allowing us to savour each dish. We ended with a hot beverage and a shared piece of Orange Pie. As our conversation dealt with spiritual matters, this heavenly meal was apropos.

https://www.cooksandsoldiers.com/about

It has been a truly rewarding, and hopefully productive journey, in terms of small acts of service and kind energy put forth, for the most part. Tomorrow, the train leaves for a brief stop in New Orleans, then back to the Southwest.

Down to Earth In A Sonesta

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Education, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 3, 2022, Atlanta- I left Heart of Dixie Motel, the fixer-upper that did not even have its own towels. (I had my own, for just such an eventuality.) It was mid-morning and I had plenty of time to get up here, to mid-town Atlanta, by the time I was to host a Zoom call. So it went, and the two paradigms of life in America stood in contrast to one another. Rural Dadeville, with mostly comfortable single family homes and a motel or two to house migrant workers, just up the road from the aspiring surrounds of Lake Martin-a fishing and boating mecca that gives east central Alabama a much-needed boost, versus Atlanta, the symbol of the South that rose again, with every amenity that one could call upon.

I find myself in a Sonesta Hotel, one of those which have become part of the system first established by A.M. Sonnabend, a Boston-based entrepreneur, of whom I heard as a child. Mr. Sonnabend lent the first three letters of his name to the brand-“Son”esta. I worked in a Sonesta, in Bangor, Maine, for a few months, in 1976-7, while simultaneously feeling my way in the newly-emerging field of educating the emotionally-disabled. I held my own in that motel job, and may actually have been better off sticking with the field, at least until I got my head on straighter. Things happen the way they should, though, and here I am, 46 years later, glad to have reached equilibrium in my life and impacted a fair number of children and youth in a positive way.

The next day or two will find me bidding farewell to the Hyundai Sonata, which safely took me to Miami Beach and back, via Brunswick, Amelia Island, Kennedy Space Center, Key West, Big Cypress, Naples (FL), Lake Okeechobee, Tampa-St. Petersburg, Spring Hill, and the Carter Country of southwest Georgia. Thinking things through, in the safety of a comfortable hotel room, is not hard. I have Celtic music gently playing and the knowledge that, although the faith-based activities I hoped to have included in this journey were eclipsed by lingering pandemic-related restrictions, I did right by family members along the way and made new, if fleeting, friendships-with people I may very well encounter again in the future. I kept the online meeting commitments I had, that either did not conflict with family engagements or get rendered cumbersome by lack of a proper venue at the time they were scheduled.

Above all else, I did not fold, did not collapse or get shaken by either aloneness or by the ignorance of others who did not honour my presence, even though I did theirs. March was both a hard energy month and a stage filled with opportunities for growth. April, May and June will bring more of the latter-mostly around Home Base, but with another likely journey of observation and service, towards the end of Spring.

The flutes and strings are telling me to be gentle with self and re-group, in any way that such is needed.

Mirror Images

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel

March 31, 2022, Americus, GA- The young server’s energy seemed to fill the room, as she took my order one minute, helped her boss set up for a birthday group the next and returned with my drink and two sets of checks for departing patrons, three minutes later. It was clear from her focus and poise that P enjoys her job, and equally clear that she is destined for higher ground. For now, she is everywhere at once, in Cowboys Firepit Grill.

Earlier in the day, I had a couple of lengthy conversations with T, who seemed to be almost a permanent desk clerk at the motel where I stayed, in Weeki Wachee, Florida-more a sign of the times, than an overwhelming desire on her part to hang out at her workplace. Shining through our talks were her love for, and worry over, her daughter (what single parent doesn’t wish for more time with their child?), and her focus on the quality of service provided by the motel.

When I went to a branch of my bank, in Lutz-about forty minutes southeast of Weeki Wachee, in order to take care of my April apartment rent, long distance, D, the teller, took the time to walk me through navigation of the bank’s application on my phone, and processed the transaction as quickly as my account’s minders back in Arizona would allow-which was ten minutes. During this time, D also helped three other customers get either started or finished with their transactions. He also showed me that the bank has an electronic money transfer system that is shared by my landlord’s bank-for future reference. This will certainly make things easier, the next time I’m on the road at the end of a month.

There have been several slackers I’ve encountered on this observational journey, but the three people I mention above, a teenaged woman, a thirty-something single mother and a man in his mid-twenties, embody the kind of work ethic that so many people my age see as having gone by the wayside. Diligence and pride in work are far from dead. None of these people gave an inch in their attention to detail or maintenance of professional standards. Thus did they also mirror my younger sister-in-law, who works two jobs, and with whom I had dinner on Wednesday evening. They mirror my middle brother, who worked diligently in the management of four companies, over a forty-year period, and who hosted me at his home, at the beginning of this trip. I see some of myself in each of the three, though I wish I’d had their focus, at a comparable stage in my own working life.

In short, pride in work is far from passe’. P told me to be sure to stop by again, if I am in the area. I’ll do her one better and pass the word on Cowboys Firepit Grill and Bar, Lake Park, GA, to my brother and his crew back in Atlanta. It’s worth the time, especially as he likes exploring small towns around Georgia.

Aunt Grace’s Homeland

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 26, 2022, Naples, Florida- The sweet-spirited young woman was glad as heck, that someone entered her family’s small cafe, just as she was opening the door to business. I felt like royalty, being welcomed as if I was the first soul in years to stop by. It didn’t hurt that she had a gorgeous smile and a barely concealed measure of confidence. When I ordered coffee and a piece of fry bread, (a staple among the Miccosukee, as well as among First Nations people around the United States and Canada-a testimony to the creative use of worm-shot flour, back in the Nineteenth Century.), J placed the order for the bread and turned to her uncle and me, admitting that she only knew how to use a Keurig. Uncle D was nonplussed, and calmly showed his teenaged niece how to make coffee using a drip system. Her coffee was superb, as was her mother’s fry bread.

These are the extended family of my late Aunt Grace, who left Big Cypress after World War II, and never returned, even after leaving her husband. Gracie was content to raise her five children and work as a waitress at a discount department store’s lunch counter, until she died a few years back, at age 90. She was pleased when I went to work with other First Nations people, though. She was quiet. but firm in her assessment of things- much like young J.

The Miccosukee are a southern branch of the Seminole, who came to central and southern Florida in the 1700s, and are the branch of Seminole who managed to elude Andrew Jackson’s forces, when he was appointed military governor of Florida, in 1821. Today, they live along the Tamiami Trail and in sections of the Everglades and Big Cypress natural preserves. No sane United States official, today, would recommend moving these careful stewards from the Federal lands. South Florida is rightly viewed as a proving ground for our species’ commitment to conserving water and all other living natural resources.

I spent about an hour in Osceola Panther, as Uncle D’s small village and store are called. Here are some of the scenes from the store and along the Tamiami Canal outside.

Traditional Miccosukee Spirit Mask
Traditional Miccosukee family
Tamiami Canal, at Osceola Panther
Miccosukee shade chickee

Another hour was spent, up the road, at Big Cypress National Preserve, which offers extensive programs to educate the public on the intertwining topographic areas of savanna and wetlands, which comprise most of southern and central Florida.

Here are a few scenes of everyone’s favourite swamp creature: The alligator.

Alligator feeding at Big Cypress National Preserve
Two alligators at rest.
Juvenile alligator, looking for food

The heat became a bit enervating, after noon, when I found myself dealing with the hyper-energy of Naples, southwest Florida’s southern anchor community. Here, I found that I had returned to suburbia, intense high-speed traffic and people who had scant patience for one another. After a brief preliminary visit to Naples’ excellent Botanical Garden, I rested, took in a Baha’i planning session and rested more.

Thunder, Lightning and Patience

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Family, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

March 19, 2022, Brunswick, GA- The young lady looked at the stuck register and tried, several times, to process my modest dinner transaction. When a teenager has trouble with technology-the struggle is definitely real. The manager came and got the machine back on track, while simultaneously dealing with what looked like a HUGE order that had somehow been messed up by the kitchen staff. Such was Saturday night at the Zaxby’s, in Dublin, GA, a place that first won my heart a few years back. It’s nothing special, in the wider scheme of things, but the kids took good care of me in 2018, the last time I was down this way, flustered and looking for a place to spend the night.. There’s a different crew now, of course, but some of the same people, who were having dinner there then, were there tonight. A boy who must have been no more than five, the last time, somehow remembered me and waved hello.

Patience was definitely the order of the day, once I got to Budget Rent-a-Car’s facility, near Hartsfield. Airport car rentals are almost always swamped, but today every rental company’s staff was telling their customers the same thing: “Plan on one or two hours of waiting, folks. Our vehicle turnaround staff is shorthanded.” I was long ago gifted with the ability to see what other people are enduring, thanks to Mom, who instilled that in us. So, sitting calmly on the floor by a support beam and passing the time by watching and listening to people, who were in the same boat as I was, was not a huge deal.

Ninety minutes after I was let off by the Uber driver from Newnan, I was in my own vehicle- a black Hyundai Sonata, replete with push button starter, touch gears and a cruise control system that slows down automatically, when the vehicle is getting close to the one in front. There is also the safety tone that goes off when another vehicle is in one’s blind spot and a screen warning, if one drifts a bit and the car hits the lane bumps: “It may be time to take a break.”

When I neared Savannah, some 70 miles north of here, the rain started in earnest. Once in Brunswick, the thunder and lightning joined in the festivities. Fortunately, my time outside in the fracas was limited, as both of my bags could be carried in at once. Yes, this time, Mr. Bring-the-Household Along has managed to confine himself to a modicum of items. Gone are the days when I will be seen trudging along, underneath three or four bags, trying to find the door to the night’s lodging.

I will be here in Brunswick until Monday morning, with a possible jaunt up to Savannah tomorrow afternoon, weather-permitting. It was a supremely lovely visit with my Atlanta area family, and I look forward to equally enjoyable, if briefer, time with family and friends around the periphery of peninsular Florida, over the next twelve days or so.

Spring is about to get sprung!

A Picasso Immersion

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Posted by on in children, Entertainment, Family, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 17, 2022, Newnan, GA- The conflict in Ukraine brings up images of Pablo Picasso’s Guernica, at least for me. Thus today’s visit to the Picasso Immersion, at the Pullman Warehouse Exhibition Hall, in Atlanta’s Five Points area, was particularly poignant. Guernica, for the unitiated, is the large painting in the center of this montage of Picasso’s cubist works.

Picasso’s works, from 1890-1960,were largely his reaction to the horrific World Wars, Spanish Civil War and what he saw as the rise of materialism. Pablo Picasso had his own mind about the political reality of the day and would depict those he regarded as corrupt and decadent, in a monstrous manner-representing Francisco Franco, for example, as a pile of inedible food, in Guernica, itself named for a village in northern Spain that had been bombed by Franco’s forces during the Spanish Civil War.

Picasso was a varied artist, though, and was able to represent people beloved to him, in a more conventional manner. He wrote poetry as well, such as the autobiographical “A Lonely Road Is That I Walked”:

“I walk a lonely road, the one and only one I’ve ever known.
I don’t know where it goes, but I keep walking on and on.
I walked the lonely and un trodden road for I was walking on the bridge
of the broken dreams.
I don’t know what the world is fighting for or why I am being instigated.
It’s for this that I walk this lonely road for I wish to be
ALONE!
So I am breaking up, breaking up.
It is the lack of self control that I feared as there is something
Inside me that pulls the need to surface, consuming, confusing.
Being called Weird, I walk this lonely road for on the verge of broken dreams.
And so I walk this lonely road and so just keep walking still” – pablo picasso

Like e.e. cummings after him, Picasso created in a self-deprecating fashion. He was somewhat devoted to his children, who were the only people allowed in his studio, while he worked. From the 1920s until the end of World War II, he hobnobbed with the avant-garde, in the south of France, only occasionally returning to Spain, for short periods of time. He reacted to what he saw as crass materialism, by becoming a Communist after World War II and continuing to depict members of the economic and social elite, in unflattering ways.

Picasso has always been a source of fascination to me, although admittedly an acquired taste, and requiring of considerable pondering and rumination, as to the meaning of his surrealist work. This immersion event has whetted my appetite for exploration of other great artists of our time and of earlier eras.

There was no corned beef and cabbage for us, today. The crew gathered for St. Patrick’s Day dinner, at a Taco Max in Dunwoody, north of Atlanta, and enjoyed fairly copious amounts of guacamole-along with rather good Mexican dishes. The children have their own take on everything, much like Senor Picasso. I hope to see them reach for the stars and not suffer undue hardship. It was a rare, but most enjoyable visit with our Dunwoody family.

May art, and creativity, ever be honoured and encouraged.

The Trumpeters

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, Hiking and Nature, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 16, 2022, Newnan, GA- Three trumpeter swans, mother, father and son, make the rounds of Lake Redwine, an artificial lake around which many new homes on the west side of this relatively serene town in west Georgia have sprung up in recent years. I am here, for three days, visiting my middle brother and his wife.

The swans, for years, kept other water fowl, particularly ducks, from settling in around the lake. An attack on the mother swan, by a snapping turtle, three years ago, resulted in her losing her lower beak. This seems to have mellowed out the trio. They have turned inward, reverting to the cygnine behaviour of parents bullying their cygnet into leaving the nest, once it comes of age. So far, it has not worked. Dutiful son still looks after his mother, even if it seems she may want him to move on.

How close to human are these opposing behaviours? The difference is that the birds are acting on instinct. Humans, with the powers of reason and utterance, still manage to hold grudges and thrive on half-truths. I will not give any specific examples, out of respect to those involved, but I keep learning of families in which parents and children push each other away, and not always out of a desire to see the other become self-sufficient.

With the swans, there are winners: The offspring get to start their own family and the parents can hatch a new set of cygnets. With humans, the hits often just keep on coming.

Humility and forgiveness-are these so impossible?