Category Archives: Family

What Gives?

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, impediments, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel

July 31, 2021- Stopping by one of my favourite local eateries, this morning, I received the jarring news that the owner of the establishment had come close to death, while I was away. He has recovered somewhat, but was still in an upset frame of mind when I saw him briefly.

There is a shortage of those willing to work, in our community, as elsewhere across the country. Some blame the recovery checks sent out earlier this year. Others point to the continued unemployment benefits being distributed. Having had to collect such benefits, on a few occasions in the past, I find that hard to fathom. Besides, the satisfaction of a job well done far outweighs the dubious bliss of lazing about in bed all day-but maybe that’s just my upbringing talking.

July, and the second journey back East this year, have come to an end. I won’t be leaving the Southwest again this year, barring a family emergency. The cost of the unexpected, but necessary, first trip, in May, and a freely-made investment in an enterprise that has turned out to be a money sink, have used the amount that I budgeted for a European visit, slated for this Fall. I don’t begrudge the entrepreneurs who asked for my contribution, but it is obvious that they did not think the whole thing through, thus their requests for continued donations-which I am refusing. Sometimes, the best thing one can do for another is to let him/her hit rock bottom.

I will make shorter journeys, in the months ahead: A memorial hike, on the Navajo Nation, is tentatively slated for mid-August; a visit to southern California is in the works for mid-September and I plan to spend 1-2 weeks in New Mexico, in mid-October, visiting and re-visiting some favourite parts of the Land of Enchantment. As COVID has pushed everything backward, 2022 looks to be busy enough: Spending time with friends and family in the Deep South, in February-early March; Trans-Canada and across the northern tier of the U.S., in May-early June and the postponed European visit, in October- mid-November. 2023-25 will bring other peregrinations, as well.

One of the most overused cliches in our culture is: “The more you give, the more you get.” I’ve found that usually comes from those who sit back and watch others get taken for a ride. At any rate, I am not buying into the cynicism and the chortling. No one person can be expected to raise others up, in perpetuity, It takes a community tide to lift all boats.

The Trafficked

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

July 30, 2021– Ella Mae Begay has been missing nearly two months, with both law enforcement and family/community members looking for her, high and low, since her disappearance. She is a rug weaver, an artist whose traditional Navajo rugs have won her a lot of admiration. It is important to keep referring to her, in the present tense. An abducted or trafficked person should never be cast aside to the public’s opaque memory, as we learned when Elizabeth Smart was rescued, in March, 2003, nine months after her abduction. White women and girls, no less precious than anyone, nevertheless make up a far smaller percentage of the missing and exploited than do people of colour, especially Indigenous Americans.

The number of missing Native Americans is estimated at over 10,000-with 7,700 youth reported missing, as of 2018. Any such estimate is bound to be far lower than the actual number, with such factors as suspicion of outsiders among the families of the missing and family involvement in the disappearance, contributing to non-reporting. It is not just women who disappear, either. A young man, who I knew as a neighbour and student, in the 1990s, has been missing for over a year. His family continues to search and hold out hope-as they should. In the meantime, these families-especially the missing person’s children and spouses, live as if in a hollow shell.

Today is World Day Against Trafficking in Persons, sponsored by the United Nations, whose own record in the matter has been spotty, in the past. That there is recognition of this issue, on a macrolevel, though, is huge progress. While the primary impetus for continued trafficking is easy money, the base for its widespread nature has been the sense that no one will really miss the abducted ones.

Everyone of conscience should miss them-and not give up searching, hounding the traffickers and demanding official action against “the Heads of the Snakes”, and finding as many of the victims as is humanly possible. A large organization, dedicated to this very achievement, is Shared Hope International. I urge those who are sincerely concerned about this issue to support Shared Hope, and any local organization which takes children off the street or otherwise points them towards a life away from exploitation.

https://www.un.org/en/observances/end-human-trafficking-day

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July Road Notes, Day 24: Connectivity

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Family, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 28, 2021- When stopping for a meal, traveling alone, I like to sit at the counter, if one is available. It often gives a chance to converse with the server(s) and anyone else who happens to be sitting nearby. This evening, dropping into The Wiggly Pig, in Cortez, it gave the young server, who was fairly sweltering, a chance to express her feelings about the “Swamp Cooler” A/C system. The rooftop box set-up is financially efficient, but does little to provide comfort to anyone doing physical labour, within. I noticed the cook didn’t look too happy, either, when he emerged from the back, momentarily. He did, however, serve up a fabulous bleu cheese burger.

The journey back to Prescott was serene, and comfortable, offering a chance to recap.

Amarillo: Wes was a bit quieter than usual. I was the one yakking away, though I forget what about. Smoky Joe’s did give me a chance to give back to him, for all the times he has been a gracious host.

Grapevine: It’s always relaxing to be with my little family. Son has reached his “Third of a Century” mark, and is growing into something of a paternal role-even if the children are still in the future. He looked after me, and got my Bluetooth installed in the car-and made certain Elantra was not a toxic environment. Life in this apartment complex seems more satisfying-with more families than single men, clustered in groups.

Tulsa: Approaching my Greenwood District visit, by stopping first at Sherman, TX, offered a prologue to the study of the 1921 Massacre-as one of the key families in Greenwood had moved there from Sherman. The little north Texas town would, itself, have a few days of infamy, in 1930. Greenwood’s slaughter has, thankfully, not prevented people of colour from rebounding-and those who have gone on to succeed in life are less likely to suffer depredations than their predecessors of a hundred years ago.

Memphis: Many people wonder why I stop here. It’s about the heritage-and making note of the pockets of vibrant culture that sustain what is actually a wonderful hub of art and musi: Beale Street, Sun Studio, Cooper-Young District, and the area around the Museum of Civil Rights. Yes, the parking lots are scruffy and Super 8, by the river, was a bit on the rough and tumble side, but I’ll take those as trade-offs for the cultural richness and youthful energy that transcend the heat and humidity.

Crossville: Another place of extended family, who have my well-being in mind. The pond, the unique pets, the interesting conversations that flow from talk of travel, independent businesses and the history of people of colour in Massachusetts-these made for a sweet two-day respite. The hike to Fall Creek Falls, in the rain, no less, just accented how soothing the little plot of paradise can be.

Harrisonburg: Two years away from another of my homes away from home made only a slight difference. I miss Jess and Mike, but Duke’s has taken up where Artful Dodger left off. Dan and Naomi are doing just fine-and there is Village Inn, to provide comfort after a long slog up the Appalachian spine. Any number of interesting small cities and historic districts may be found, either south or north of “H”, as well. Though I could have done without encountering the voice from the past, at White’s Fort, in Knoxville, one does need to remember that such people are not uncommon, and patience is still needed, to a degree.

Oley: Glick’s is undergoing quite a transformation-Next Gen horticulture is going to be as fabulous as what has come before it, if not more so. As much as I enjoy visits with Beth, it was a pleasure to get to know Dave and the crew better. My D’s stopover, this time out, left me concerned for the well-being of the “May/November” crew, in a rare period of swelter. I tend to be very concerned for the young people, especially the women, I encounter- being patriarchic and avuncular comes naturally, after my upbringing.

Saugus: The town of my childhood is no longer “hometown”, per se. Mom is in the next town northward. Family still abounds, nearby, though, and I had a long overdue visit with dearly cherished cousins, in nearby Lynn. It was a pleasure to honour my brother and sister-in-law, for all they have done, and are doing. Mother herself is adjusting to her “new apartment” and still has the spunk that inspired me to achieve. Hammersmith Inn is still there, serving great breakfasts-and I noted a competitor, uptown’s Iron Town Diner-maybe next spring.

Maine and New Hampshire: Another long overdue visit, with cherished cousins, and along a beautiful stretch of Maine coast, highlighted this day. Stonewall Kitchens is a fine place to stop, perhaps for a breakfast, but definitely for gift shopping, ahead of any visits further afield. The solemnity of my visit to the graves of an aunt, uncle and cousin, who were veterans, was broken by the sudden cold rain that had me rush back to the car. What’s past is prologue-and seemed to be a short-lived trend: I had my third dinner, in five days, at a Ninety-Nine Restaurant, as the place in Augusta was just outside the cemetery. Maine’s and New Hampshire’s capitols grace two fine historical towns: Augusta and Concord, respectively. I just wish Concord had few more places of accommodation-though Holiday Inn filled the bill nicely.

New York and Pennsylvania: I will definitely make time, in the future, for a day or so in Albany, if for the architecture, alone. D’s was much more comfortable this time around, and a very strong-willed and proactive young lady seemed very much in charge, even though the owners were present, and interacting with the regulars. DuBois is a nice little town for an overnight stop.

Mishawaka: It’s just good plain fun to stop and visit with Val and Mark. That I took a wrong turn, abetted by a balky GPS system, and ended up just over the line, in Michigan, was a non-event, though it made for a late dinner. I learned to turn the phone off and back on, thus picking up the WiFi that WAS available.

Chicagoland and Wisconsin: It is ever a joy to stop at the Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, north of Chicago. The price is always to participate in the Windy City’s eternal rush hour, but no matter- I have an EZ Pass transponder now. I only need to plan ahead and load the account. That the Temple is as much of a draw for visitors as ever, brings joy to my heart. Madison offers a shimmering and impressive Wisconsin State Capitol-easily accessible.

Twin Cities: What a joy it was to meet members of the family’s Minnesota branch-and to learn of their Arizona connection. Family is family, and being blended just adds that much more strength to the unit. I feel a tight bond with cousins Darah and Amarah, and their crew.

St. Paul has an impressive Minnesota State Capitol-and Cathedral. George Floyd Square- in honour of an unassuming man, who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, has brought disparate people together- and has brought focus onto the underlying shared humanity of us all. This was easily the most interesting experience, on a most interesting journey.

Great Plains Highways: Fairmont is Anytown, but it was special to meet Tericca, an engaging soul who came here from the Phoenix area, and who has a special appreciation for the back country of the Plains. Why I didn’t take more time to make sure the radiator cap was on properly, I’ll never know, but it was a good reminder-even though I had to sit for four hours, while a skilled mechanic, named Alex, gave my car’s cooling system a complete once-over. Falls Park is a fine reason to visit Sioux Falls, and a great place for locals to spend the three-digit summer days. Making it as far as York, NE, after the car service, was indeed a near miracle.

Castle Rock: It was a sublime surprise to find Max’s Diner, near the junction of I-80 and I-76. Navigating detours and road construction is just part of the deal, in summer travel. Max’s, with hand-made burgers, is a true gem, in a place called Big Springs, NE. Castle Rock, south of Denver, has experienced explosive growth, in the five years since I was last through this way. It was joyful, though, to be surrounded by young families, even to be next door to three very chatty and outspoken little boys.

Down the 160: This route feels like home to me, in so many spots. I could stay in Walsenburg, Fort Garland, Del Norte, Pagosa Springs, Mancos, or Cortez, and feel right at home. Alamosa, Monte Vista and Durango are a bit congested, but are also fine places to visit for a day or so-maybe longer, in the Fall. Del’s Diner (Fort Garland) is an unassuming spot, with plain fare, but the ladies are supremely gracious to all who stop for a meal. I miss the old “hippie” spot in Del Norte, and didn’t see anything that has taken its place. The drive over Wolf Creek Pass featured rain, in buckets. In Cortez, it’s always a coin flip: Wiggly Pig or The Farm Bistro. This evening, Wiggly won the toss. Love that Blu Burger! The rest of the road, through Dinetah, Flagstaff and the Verde Valley, just required that I stayed awake. Even with no place to get a cup of coffee, I found it easy to manage.

Tomorrow is S-Day (for Snip) and I will be well-rested for it.

July Road Notes, Day 21: What Matters Most

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

July 25, 2021, Fairmont, MN- The passing driver fairly screamed at me, through a closed car window, as I stood on the grassy median of the quiet secondary road, waiting for the traffic light to turn in my favour, as I brought breakfast back to my motel room. I could see his scrunched up face, long after his car had passed by. An old veteran, sitting outside the motel, witnessed the whole thing and muttered something about some people not having enough to do with themselves. Such was the morning in Hudson, Wisconsin, where “morning people” seemed to consist of the energetic truck stop counterman, the cheerful motel owners, said old veteran and yours truly. Everyone else I met was either strung out about something, or just not ready to wake up fully.

Once I got on the road again, it was with a plan to visit the Minnesota State Capitol, in St. Paul, then go to George Floyd Square, in Minneapolis, and connect with a second cousin who lives in the area. I drove to the Capitol area, finding Minnesota has kept pace with its eastern neighbour, in terms of the majesty of its seat of government.

The Minnesota State Capitol, St. Paul
The Quadriga, or Progress of the State

https://www.mnhs.org/capitol/learn/art/8857

The above link describes the gilded copper figures shown above, and called The Quadriga. The four-horse chariot is driven by the male figure, who represents the State. The female figures represent Minnesota’s agriculture and industry. The four horses represent earth, fire, water and wind.

“Winter” garden, east side of Minnesota State Capitol
Minnesota State Capitol, viewed from State Veteran’s Memorial
Cathedral of St. Paul

It was upon driving to the majestic Cathedral of St. Paul, some six blocks southeast of the Capitol, that I got a call from my cousin. She and family live on the St. Paul side of the Twin Cities, so my visit with them was moved up. What a delightful group! They met me at an area coffee house and spent about thirty-five minutes, before we all had to move on with our days. I’m ever grateful to be able to connect with far-flung family. D and her mate have each done well in life. Their daughters will follow suit, from all I noted this morning. Teenagers often go through periods of self-doubt (as do the rest of us), and their feelings deserve to be taken seriously, yet I see a very solid drive in both girls. This little unit is going to be just fine.

Gathering at a Caribou Coffee Shop (above and below)

From family reunion of sorts to honouring sacrifice, I drove to George Floyd Square, on Minneapolis’ south side. Parking well away from the square, I spent about an hour in prayer, listening and carefully contemplating the faces and descriptions of each shooting victim whose death is commemorated there. There was only concern and compassion being shown, by both those visiting and those who are tending the site.

The late John Lewis called for “Good trouble”.
Amanda Gorman had it nailed.

George Floyd Square, Minneapolis

Call it untidy, messy, or even inconvenient, if you will. I would say the events that led to this site’s establishment were very untidy, extremely messy and most inconvenient-for the people who have suffered, and, ultimately, for those who brought about their suffering.

Say Their Names Memorial Cemetery, 37th Street, south of Chicago Avenue, Minneapolis

A dedicated crew of volunteers was busy, at this collective memorial for African-American people of colour killed, under questionable or objectionable circumstances, over the past sixty-six years. One of the earliest such victims, Emmett Till, would have turned eighty years of age today. When he was killed, I was four years old, and he was fourteen. I barely remember, the very next day, one of my cousins mentioned that a “coloured boy”, not much older than he, had been killed by “some crazy people” in a place called Mississippi. I didn’t know who coloured people were, nor where Mississippi even was, but I knew it was wrong for one person to kill another. It was also strange to me that a child should have died. Death was for old people, like my paternal grandfather, who had recently passed away-and he was not all that old.

It is still strange, and I still regard such atrocities as crazy. It would be the same, were any group of people to be subjected to such treatment-regardless of age, or of “race”.

July Road Notes, Day 17: Long Trails Winding

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Posted by on in children, Family, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 21, 2021, Concord, NH- Sam sensed my solemn mood, and honoured my relative silence. It was partly due to where I had just been, and partly due to being a bit worn, by the full day I had just enjoyed. The effervescent young lady continued to make sure I was well-served, while engaging more cheerful patrons in banter and laughter. Thus went my third meal, in five days, at a Ninety-Nine Restaurant. This one was in Augusta, Maine’s capital city, where I had just visited the gravesites of a paternal aunt and uncle, along with the as yet unmarked grave of their eldest son, in Central Maine Veterans Memorial Cemetery.

I left Saugus, the town of my formative years, around 8 in the morning, heading up towards Maine, via I-95. It was a smooth enough drive, near the coastal regions of New Hampshire and southern Maine. I first stopped at Stonewall Kitchen, in York, to pick up gifts for the cousins I would visit first and for friends I will see on Friday evening. Next came the drive, past Portland and its exquisite Casco Bay, to Boothbay Harbor, home to a paternal cousin and his family. I hadn’t seen Tom in nearly 35 years, but had communicated with him recently, about a matter of mutual interest.

Tom and Jamie seem to be doing well, have wonderful children and grandchildren, and a lovely home.

View of one of Boothbay Harbor’s many coves

We talked of each other’s families, for about 1 1/2 hours, over lunch and photo albums. Both of our family branches have had their share of triumphs and tragedies. Both have had wondrous people enter their lives and share all they have-and then some. Tom and Jamie are solid people, who have served children, over the years, on paths similar to those that Penny and I took.

Extended family, Boothbay Harbor, ME

I left the family to their afternoon, which included a well-crafted blanket fort, that the little boys had made, as part of their imaginative use of the living room, and headed towards Augusta, where I would pay my respects to our departed aunt, uncle and cousin. A brief stop in Boothbay Harbor’s west side was in order, for ice cream and a few photos.

Boothbay Harbor
View of Harbormaster’s House, Boothbay Harbor

The drive to Augusta was fairly short, but it took stopping at two places to get directions to the cemetery, as my GPS was pulling its “You’re offline!” tantrum. Once there, I found a well-tended expanse of lawn, with year-by-year indicators of who is laid to rest, and where. I spent about twenty minutes at the gravesites of my family members.

Central Maine Veterans Memorial Cemetery, Augusta

Almost on cue, after twenty minutes, a cold wind whipped up and the dark clouds gathered. I got into the Ninety-Nine, just outside the cemetery gates, just before the rain started. Samantha, the server, kept watch on the skies, as well as on us patrons, and noted after fifteen minutes that the sun was coming back out. She seemed quite intently watching over us all, which I like in a public servant.

I spent about an hour after dinner, walking about downtown Augusta. The city has made great strides in celebrating the Kennebec River and its own heritage, since I was last here, in the late 1970s. Here are some of the scenes, therein.

Olde Federal Building, Augusta, ME
Kennebec Riverwalk, Augusta
Old Fort Western, Augusta

Old Fort Western tells the story of early Augusta and its environs. https://www.augustamaine.gov/old_fort_western/292_years_of_maine___new_england_history.php.

It was closed, and I needed to make further progress westward, so as to not overload myself tomorrow, so after a brief visit to the grounds of Maine’s State Capitol, where I took a few photos, under the watchful eyes of the Capitol Police, onward it was.

Maine State House, Augusta
West entrance, Maine State House, Augusta

Along US 202, I passed through the fields and cities of central and southwest Maine: Winthrop, Lewiston, Auburn, Gray and Sanford, before crossing into New Hampshire, at Rochester, then over to this fair place- New Hampshire’s capital city, which has two motels, cityside. Thus, I stopped into my first Holiday Inn, in over thirty-five years. (I am usually one for the Mom & Pop establishments, but in New Hampshire, those are limited to resort areas.)

After looking around Concord a bit, tomorrow, the itinerary is to cross western New Hampshire, southern Vermont and New York’s southern tier.

July Road Notes, Day 16: Family Never Fades

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Posted by on in Family, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Striving

July 20, 2021, Saugus- “It takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile.” This was an admonition that my mother gave to anyone whose cup was always half empty. Now that she is ensconced in an Assisted Living facility, in a comfortable apartment, with caring souls looking after her, 24 hours a day-but not overbearingly so, I came back here for a few days, to ascertain her well-being. She’s doing very well-just being herself and either staying in the apartment or going out, as she sees fit. My mother will never be anyone’s fool.

I spent a few hours, this afternoon, with a cousin and his wife, having not seen them in person, since March, 1994. I keep up with their lives, via Facebook, but it is hardly the same. Family never fades, though, even as some choose to differ in their view of society or of their concept of faith. The people with whom I spent the afternoon are of fine character, and have no insuperable animosity towards those of like character, who see the world differently.

Nonetheless, we chose to focus mainly on catching up with family stories and our memories of the generation who raised us. It is always instructive to hear different accounts about people whom you thought you knew well. In the end, it was also reassuring to hear that “the world is a better place, with you in it.” It had been a tough day or so, with regard to how some view my position, on how best to fight poverty, with disdain. Family, though, is bedrock, a foundation, which the criticism of relative strangers cannot shake.

I spent one last evening with Mom, before I head north, and then west, tomorrow- visiting briefly with a cousin who is family historian, paying respects to another, recently-departed cousin and possibly visiting an aunt. I gave Mom two bouquets of roses, and placed each bouquet in it sown vase, trimming the stems of the longer flowers. Keeping her company, while she enjoyed dinner, and covering her with a blanket, afterward, were payback for a lifetime of love. Family never fades.

Extended family, in Lynn, MA

July Road Notes, Day 15: Reckonings

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

July 19, 2021, Saugus- It was bound to happen-after 1 1/2 long journeys, my sad old tires had to be turned into road filler. I purchased four new replacements. The days when retreads or used tires sufficed are long gone. So are the days when I took a chance, and dealt with blowouts.

Laundry got done today, also. The small local laundromat was different. A single, harried attendant mans a cramped facility, with good machines-but unlike the coin laundries in the west and south, this one had no waiting area for patrons, save a couple of chairs outside. That said, it is an agreeable place, and the attendant has plenty of regulars who offer kind words and help him-and each other.

A maternal aunt-by-marriage passed away, late last week. She was a paragon of elegance, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. If I were to follow the example set by Sabina LaSala Kusch, a lot of the now occasional conflict in my life would be expunged. We didn’t see much of Aunt Sabina, growing up, but her demeanor was always pleasant.

There remain the constant appeals for money, from Africa. I know that others have life far tougher than I do, but what if a large number of people were to band together and offer small donations, instead of assuming that one person can take on a project, start to finish, by self? As it is, my own debts are coming due-and I intend to meet these, honourably-even if a few people regard my refusal to keep donating to THEM-as treachery.

Reckonings are tricky. Karma may strike, even when one sees self as justified in one’s actions. I will take whatever consequences come about, but will not put energy into attracting negativity. I only wish for the best for others, even if I cannot provide it by myself.

July Road Notes, Day 14: Drizzle and Sizzle

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 18, 2021, Saugus- I woke, surprisingly refreshed, at the Econolodge, in Sharon, MA, this morning. With a clearer sense of location, the route was south to Red, White and Brew Coffee House, which shares a space with a local artists’ venue, called The Budding Violet, in North Smithfield, R.I.. A young Exceptional Abilities man, and his parents, are the driving force behind RWB. I first learned of this establishment in 2019, and planned to visit it last summer, but we know how things went.

The family was pleased that their shop was included on this itinerary, but I can’t envision not going there, and certainly will do so, in subsequent trips to New England. I will be more careful to make reservations at a reputable place of accommodations, next time.

Red, White and Brew Coffee House/The Budding Violet Gallery, North Smithfield, R.I.
A planter, offered by The Budding Violet
Words of Wisdom

The weather here has been rainy, over the past few days and will remain so, tomorrow, it is forecast. I should like to move some of the rain that both the Northeast and the Southwest have been receiving lately, and share it with the sizzling, burning Northwest. The heartbreak is palpable, as some are going through their third and fourth summers, in a row, of being on Ready, Set, Go status.

I will be here in Saugus, for another two days, and am pleased that Mom appears well, is asserting her independence and has adopted a “Don’t worry, be happy” outlook. Being a nonagenarian does allow for such liberties. She was the consummate social conscience for a great many years. That social conscience was transferred to me, early on, and so it continues.

July Road Notes, Day 7

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Historical, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 11, 20201, Tulsa- All good things come to a pause, to be continued later. After a leisurely breakfast and final survey of my items, I bid farewell to son and daughter-in-law, with the common knowledge that we are always welcome in one another’s homes-as it should be with family.

My first stop, north of the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, was in the city of Sherman, southern gateway to the Lake Texoma area. Sherman is important to me for two reasons: A riot of white tenant farmers and townspeople occurred on May 9, 1930-in reaction to a black labourer’s having attacked and raped the white wife of a man who owed him money. The labourer, one George Hughes, freely admitted his misdeeds and was initially subjected to due process of law. A mob soon gathered, and succeeded in breaching the Grayson County Courthouse, chasing everyone except Hughes out of the building and cutting into a vault, in which he was hiding, then killing the man and treating his corpse atrociously. https://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/entries/sherman-riot-of-1930

This occurred nine years after the Greenwood Massacre that took place in Tulsa (1921), and the Sherman rioters took a page from those in Tulsa, and burned the business district in Sherman’s Black neighbourhood to the ground. The Sherman case, however exacerbated by conditions resulting from the Great Depression, stained the good name of the town for several years. To be fair, it was only one of nearly two dozen such riots, in every part of the country-not just in the South. Modern Sherman has largely moved past the nightmare, but there are remnants of the past two centuries, including the Confederate Monument outside the present Grayson County Courthouse. My personal hope is that such monuments serve as reminders of where we went wrong, as a people, and that no person, of any racial or ethnic group, ever again seeks to circumvent the law-even in, or especially in, cases of personal injustice. Vengeance always claims a great deal of innocent lives.

Grayson County Courthouse, Sherman, TX

The second reason for my stopping in Sherman was that, ten years ago, a young woman from the town had moved to Prescott, and became a friend-whom I advised on several occasions, whilst she worked as a server in a couple of area restaurants. With encouragement from me and others, she moved to Tempe and entered Arizona State University. I have lost contact with Summer, but have never forgotten her gentle spirit and determined drive. In her honour, I stopped in for lunch, at Old Iron Post, which appears to be Sherman’s answer to Raven Cafe. The ambiance, and the fare, did not disappoint,

Old Iron Post Restaurant and Bar, Sherman, TX

There was one more stop for me, before leaving Texas: The Birthplace of Dwight D. Eisenhower, in Denison. The small, unassuming town, near the Oklahoma state line, helped form the character of one of America’s greatest generals, who became a fairly good president.

The building itself was closed, but as with the Birthplace of Harry S. Truman, in May, I was able to get a few photos of the exterior and the grounds.

Statue of Dwight D. Eisenhower, Denison, TX
Birthplace of Dwight D. Eisenhower, Denison, TX
Mimosa trees, Eisenhower Birthplace State Monument, Denison, TX

That was it for meandering for the day. I continued on towards this fascinating, and often troubled, industrial and commercial center of northeast Oklahoma, and locus of the Greenwood Massacre of 1921. It is to Greenwood that my own focus will be drawn, tomorrow morning.

July Road Notes, Day 6: In Good Repair

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Family, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Personal Values, Social, Striving

July 10, 2021, Grapevine- Today started off undefined, which is suitable for a summer Saturday. We opted for a short walk along the paved trails of Heritage Park, in nearby Flower Mound. There were wildflowers aplenty, and a large number of families about. The water slides, practice fields and disc golf courses were very popular, as they should be. The northern suburbs of Dallas seem to take good care of their public, recreation-wise. Disc golf, for the unitiated, is a sport that involves throwing a disc at a wire basket. The rules are similar to those of golf, but it reminds me somewhat of horseshoes. It takes serious focus, in any case.

The day turned, after a fashion, towards attending to the inside of Elantra. The Galloping Gray One was looking a lot shabbier than I have cared to admit, so Aram and I set about wiping the dashboard, doors, compartments and rear ledge. The windows got treated, as well, and Son vacuumed the seats and carpeting. The day concluded with a round of online trivia games and a trip over to an East Asian shopping center, with a variety of ethnic cafes, stores and restaurants. We chose a place called Too Thai Street Eats. The food hold its own, in quality and portion size.

I am in good repair, other than the bump on my face-which has a limited time left. I did a plank for a minute, and could have gone longer-but this was a trial run. I know that some parts of this septuagenarian frame need more individual work, and will do better by them, as the year progresses.

Tomorrow, this family time will come to an end, and I will head north, to Tulsa-for an homage to those who tried to embrace the American Dream and found that those around them were far from ready to embrace them.