July Road Notes, Day 7

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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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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.

July Road Notes, Day 3

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July 7, 2021, Grapevine- There is no such thing as a 1/3 life crisis. That’s my assessment of the son whom Penny and I raised to deal with both the sweet and the sour of life. A topsy-turvy process, initiated by COVID restrictions and aggravated by bureaucracy, was pretty much resolved through his attention to detail and the energy of proactivity that attracted the cooperation of others.

So went the day, celebrating thirty-three years of life, of my sole offspring. There was brunch, a short hike around the perimeter of the apartment complex that Aram and Yunhee call home, a ninety-minute series of bowling rounds (my first such activity in over twenty-five years), a hamburger dinner at the local branch of a quality nationwide burger and shakes establishment and a walk around Grapevine Mills shopping mall.

The man has shown himself capable of handling even the nettlesome matters, about which he vents to me. He is a spouse dedicated to his wife’s career progress and happiness. He is about balance, between the people in his physical world and those with whom he communicates and interacts digitally. He appreciates the people he meets, on a daily basis and honours truth, from wherever it comes. He has a set career goal and entertains alternative game plans, in the event reality makes his Plan A unwieldy.

Aram Ferdinand Boivin will remain a force with whom to reckon, for a good many years. He will make a fine father someday, and a stellar worker for the public good, in whatever field he settles.

Happy Birthday, Son.

July Road Notes, Day 2

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July 6, 2021, Grapevine, TX- It rained buckets last night, across northern New Mexico and well into the Texas Panhandle. In Moriarty, I heard thunder and pelting rain, for nearly three hours. This is just the thing that the region needs; if only it could extend all the way to the Pacific Coast!

I was on the road fairly early this morning, which was a good thing-given that the route to the Dallas-Fort Worth area runs diagonally southeast, from Amarillo. I got into that fair city around Noon, and enjoyed lunch at Smoky Joe’s, with old friend Wes Hardin. The Sixth Street “Fun Zone”, and lunch with Wes, are staples of any trip that involves crossing the Panhandle. As always, he had a few stories of life among the struggling and the grasping, of this rough and tumble city.

I made few stops, along US Route 287, which I last drove nine years ago, on my first visit to Fort Worth. Many places, like Love’s Barbecue (Chillicothe) were closed on Tuesday, an okay thing-as my lunch at Smoky Joe’s was with me, long after the noon hour. I found a lovely new rest area and welcome center had sprung up, near Memphis, TX, over the past decade. Wichita Falls has grown a bit, in these ten years, also. Upon getting to Denton, twenty miles east along US Route 380, it was a circuitous, but not difficult, road over to Grapevine. Being with family, until Sunday morning, will be restful and revitalizing, in any case.

July Road Notes, Day 1

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July 5, 2021, Moriarty- I am in a more relaxed frame of mind, this time around-as compared to the “get there and get it done” mindset of May’s out and back. Departure out of Home Base was fairly early: 7 a.m., and I did have one Baha’i Zoom meeting this afternoon, but my flow was fairly even-between 65 and 80, most of the way (A few construction zones called for 45-55, but no workers were on the highways today, as it was a Monday Make-up, for Sunday’s Independence Day.)

I made a coffee stop at a Maverik, in Dewey, AZ, about 40 minutes into the drive. This is of note only because a poor soul, just trying to get a cup of joe, found the lid on his cup didn’t quite fit-the third time in a row, he told me, that this has happened. We agreed that he probably was not the only one to whom it occurred. I wished him a better day, and was glad that the lid on my cup was sealed.

I kept an eye on the roadsides, in an area between Camp Verde and Winslow where wildfire had wreaked havoc, in late June. There was a burn scar on the ground cover, in several spots, but no tree singeing. The road between there and Gallup was serene and, as mentioned earlier, no construction work. Going through Albuquerque was also no big deal-save that, when a Jeepster decided he wanted to “tandem race” me, on the Duke City’s east side along I-40, a state patrolman in an unmarked car flashed him to move over one lane-then looked over at me and told me to get behind his car-no pull-over, no citation, no warning-just “get out of the passing lane”. As I was essentially minding my own business, when the Jeepster became Jerkster, the officer’s command was easy enough to follow. They both left the freeway, at the next exit, and I continued over the mountain, to this eastern suburb.

I had stayed at Sunrise Motel, once before, under a previous owner. The current management is on a strict pandemic protocol: Phoned check-in, outdoor document reading and signing-with a six foot distance-though masks are not required outside, and key to be left in the room at check-out. The room is the same as before, complete with a rubber duck by the bathtub-as well as a plug that fits the drain (less common than one might think, in the days of drought and cutting costs).

Tomorrow, I head over through Texas-to my family in Grapevine.

The Second Half

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July 1, 2021- The first six months of this year have produced some rather significant changes in my world. Chief among them was Mother’s changing her residence-thankfully of her own accord-after 66 years in the same house. With all of us pitching in, the gargantuan task was broken into a hundred fairly manageable pieces. Now, Mom is happily ensconced in a small, comfortable apartment, with her basic security set.

The other changes are more internal. I have jettisoned a few personal demons that, while not interfering in my life very much, did cause a certain tension to arise, unnecessarily, between me and certain people in the wider community. I have already noticed how much more relaxed things are, when I am in my favourite places around town.

There were, as always, journeys during the period January-June. One was not planned-but going to Massachusetts in May was never in question. Going to Carson City was a year overdue- one of my best friends, and her blessed children and grandchildren are like family to me.

The second half of 2021 will be similar, with most of July being on the road-again largely making up for the lost contacts of the pandemic year. I’m not worried about a variant-the masks and hand sanitizer will be with me, and I have been fully vaccinated. Variants will be around for decades to come, as they are with Ebola-and influenza. Life cannot and should not stop. August and September will mostly find me here in Prescott, save for a memorial hike on the Navajo Nation, on August 16 and a four-day visit to southern California, September 17-21.

In mid-August, I will determine the prudence of going to Europe, for four weeks in October, and plan accordingly, Much depends on any lingering quarantines at that time. November and December will again be Southwest-centric, with my serving as host, around Thanksgiving, hopefully attending a resumed Grand Canyon Baha’i Conference, around Christmas, and making a journey to southern New Mexico for a few days thereafter.

There will also be visits, at least once a month, to the Baha’i friends living along the Colorado River, in western Arizona, and always an eye towards getting up to Navajo and Hopi, as those areas open back up. The Red Cross is also opening its programs and services to in-person situations and meetings, starting within a few weeks, and I will remain open to helping in the schools, for special substituting activities.

Thus, the second half of this year will mirror, and expand upon, the first.

The Strange Process of Growth

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June 29, 2021- Getting back to Home base, for a short period that is centered on the anniversary of the Yarnell Hill/Granite Mountain Hot Shots disaster (June 30, 2013) and on Independence Day, I found myself scheduling the July road trip and reaching back, to the past. While thinking about my Carson City family, the image of me as a toddler came into focus-almost in a hypnotic manner. I saw the source of certain behaviours and mindsets that have dogged my path, for so many years now. I also saw that I could let those behaviours and mindsets go, fall away. It is sublimely liberating.

Many of you know that I have given some help to someone in another country, whose society has much to re-learn about co-operating with one another, to achieve a greater goal. The people involved have, thus far, rejected such talk of co-operative farming, out of hand. “That is not the way we do things here!” This, essentially, translates into “Fork over the bucks, white man!” You can readily understand what my response is to such rubbish. Fortunately, the primary recipient of my aid is a bit more enlightened than many of his countrymen, and is at least trying to do things on his own. It is heartening to see someone who is walking the path of personal growth.

My own growth has been a strange enough road- complicated by being on the autism spectrum. I was a fairly strong, supportive husband and am a fairly strong, nurturing father. I am better at being a son, and sibling, than I was in the past. Ditto, for being a community member. The pattern of widespread travel will eventually subside, but not for the next five or six years. In the interim periods between journeys, though, I am committed to making a difference in my adopted community and state.

Learning makes this a great life, and it will only get greater.

Catching, as Catch Can

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June 28, 2021- When I was in the military, one of my snarkier quad mates was fond of saying “Catch as catch can”, when he or others interrupted someone’s sleep in the middle of the night, or when food was in short supply. That phrase has, ever since, been a burr in my saddle-as if life is meant to be an endless competition, with the cup ever half empty-and “Oh, well”. I know that some, including one of my regular commenters, see the world that way-and more’s the pity.

I have learned to face life’s struggles a bit more stoically, and with a view towards getting through the matter, and drawing a lesson from it. This morning, I left Carson City, around 5:30, after a heartwarming and very full five day visit with extended family. The drive from Nevada’s capital city, to within forty five miles of Las Vegas, was smooth as silk and included stops at two of my favourite “Outback” places: Beans and Brews, in Tonopah and Fort Amargosa-across from the Area 51 Alien Center. There are, in fact, any number of places where one may get a warm welcome, between LV and the Reno/Carson area.

Smooth was the road, with little traffic; then came Indian Springs. The normally sleepy town, centered on Creech Air Force Base, was the scene of a traffic standstill, precipitated by a call to the US Air Force, claiming that a bomb was at Creech’s main gate. US 95 was thus closed, in both directions, for well over an hour. Now, the 200 or so people sitting in, or milling around, their vehicles were learning another connotation of the aforementioned phrase. We were catching comfort, as catch we could. I was able to do just fine, by shutting the engine off, and rolling down the windows. Every so many minutes, we were allowed to move forward, about a hundred feet or so. That was when I would put on the AC, for a 3-5 minutes, though it was, relatively speaking, not that hot.

Just after 2 p.m., the all-clear was given. I learned a bit about how to handle a certain emergency, in tie-ups like this, by watching how the party in front of me employed a 5′ x 10′ bit of fabric as a curtain. All in all, the sense of stoicism was pretty much universal, though, especially after word came from the front of the line that law enforcement was involved. Not much else was disclosed, at the time- I would learn of the bomb hoax later, whilst having dinner at Yesterdays, a small cafe in the old mining town of Chloride.

A hoax is just inconvenient, though. I feel for all those who lost loved ones in Surfside, FL and those who are enduring record heat in the Pacific Northwest. May there be relief, and soon.

Surrogacy Reflects Reality

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June 27, 2021, Carson City- Among other matters that occupied the three of us (my spiritual sister, my surrogate grandniece and me) were the little one’s umpteenth visit to Carson City Railroad Museum, a comparison of Three-Story Park with Mills Park, in terms of the playground’s quality and cleaning out “Mema’s” car. We also returned some items to her cousin, enjoyed smoothies from Keva Juice, Italian dishes at the local Olive Garden and ice cream treats from Chocolate Nugget (near Virginia City).

Right alongside my biological family, this energetic bunch has my heart and soul. I have visited them, each year since 2012 (except 2020). Before that I knew the family in Arizona and bonded with them, even during the time that they had moved to Nevada, while Penny, Aram and I were busy in various parts of Arizona. B was born in 2011, and has since been joined by a sibling, who is every bit as delightful.

There is a separate group of cousins, not far from B and K. This group would also occupy a lot of my time, were I to be in this part of the country more often. They are a blended bunch, with every one of them treasured by Grandma, who does her level best to give them an actual home.

Surrogacy is a relative term-no pun intended. I am seeing just how strong a bond there is, blood or no blood, when the application of love is made. Oh, and this very busy day was capped, by one of the longest series of UNO hands, that I have ever joined. The last hand took over an hour to complete.

Three-Story Park

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June 25, 2021, Carson City- Even in mild heat, there is no finer place for children to meet and play together than in a park space, where they can be free to explore and exercise, while at the same time be monitored by parents or loved ones who are (hopefully) not distracted by the other duties and vagaries of adult life. There is, most definitely, no responsibility more imperative than the safe and nurturing rearing of a human being to own adulthood. So, we of adult age find ourselves accompanying our young ones to parks, playgrounds, swimming pools, nature preserves and each other’s houses, that humanity may long continue to thrive.

Much of this vigilance still falls to mothers and grandmothers. There are also men, like yours truly, who see every child as worthy of safeguarding-and are thus constantly mindful of where those immediately in our care are and what they are doing. The public space where I went with friends, yesterday, I will call Three-Story Park, the name by which the kids themselves identify the space, owing to its three-decker climbing tower, is almost ideal. The odious wood chips of the 80s and 90s have been replaced by a soft, rubbery padding. Metal slides have been replaced by large plastic ones and monkey bars, by mini-climbing walls. There is no place in the park that is not subject to line-of-sight vigilance, though my friend told her grand daughter, for good measure, to be within an area where I could reach her, in fifteen seconds or less. Thus, we planted ourselves in a shaded spot, proximate to the aforementioned tower and its accompanying slides and climbing wall.

This is the reality of this nation, and indeed this planet, in a world where too many adults view children as extensions of themselves, or who wish for a child to reflect even the most arcane attitudes and fancies of their elders. It is from the worst of such people, that I remain vigilant, on behalf of children-and teenagers, for that matter.