It’s raining, it’s pouring, but this older man is not snoring. There is much to get done today, including a haircut. There will also be drop-ins at a few of my favourite shops downtown, to wish all a Merry Christmas. For many, the day before Christmas tends to be THE time to get together with friends and family, for revelry and perhaps some of the gift giving that comes with the season, as we know it. This aspect of Christmas is derived from the pre-Christian Yule, a staple of ancient Western and Northern Europe, and itself a brightening of dreary winter days.
Tomorrow, the true spiritual essence of the day will have a special significance, as I will celebrate with one of my best friends, and my daughter-in-law will be there for the occasion. Those who know me at all, know that while I live alone, the importance of family and friends in my life can never be minimized. Son would be here, but he is tending to separation from active duty, and that brief sacrifice of time with his loved ones will come to an end, in a week’s time.
There will also be time spent on the phone, starting with a call to an ailing cousin, this afternoon, and to my mother, siblings and in-laws tomorrow. Cards are a fading tradition, for many, so we find other ways to connect. Gifts, at least from yours truly, have been given or sent- or are ready to be given in person, tomorrow.
Finally, there is this: In the core of my being, I know that the Creator never has left us alone and never will. It is constant, daily remembrance of His love for us, which brings hope and joy, even in what is, outwardly, the darkest of days. Today will sparkle, in spite of the grey skies and rainfall. So, too, will tomorrow.
The Centenary of Grand Canyon National Park is drawing to a close. So, naturally, the combination of time to spare and my daughter-in-law’s visit led to us going up to the South Rim, this morning, and spending the day, walking along the paved Rim Trail, from Mather Point to Maricopa Point.
We had spent last night in our respective rooms, at the comfortable America’s Best Value, in Williams. The high point of yesterday was a visit to the Scheinlen-Pena family, in Paulden (of whom, more tomorrow). After being warmed by thick, nutritious soup and salad, we headed to Williams, so as to not spend time going back over the same route, this morning.
The Grand Canyon seemed to strike Yunhee in a way similar to the impression it first makes on others: It’s almost incomprehensible in its size. Of course, photos don’t do it justice (though I’ll post a few, anyway.) The best thing to do here is to choose a few spots where the magnitude of the place can be somewhat encapsulated.
So, here are four such interludes:
Mather Point- An introduction to the Canyon, for many, as it is near the Visitors’ Center. Yunhee opted out of the 22-minute intro video, in favour of direct contact with the view from the Rim.
Yavapai Point: Here is a view of a cave that would seem to be a rock climber’s dream and probably something on which I’d pass.
Along the Rim Trail, just shy of this village: There is a fairly new display, all along the Rim Trail, which shows stone that is from increasingly ancient layers of rock. This Dox Sandstone dates from one billion, one hundred thirty million years ago.
The El Tovar Hotel: Grand Canyon Village, being home to some, and a welcoming host to countless others, does holidays up nicely!
Kolb Brothers Studio: Here is a place that’s both historical and full of artistry. The brothers were photographers here, alternately in conflict and grudging cooperation with Fred Harvey’s Lookout Studio, from 1901-1976. Today, both the Lookout Studio and Kolb Brothers Studio are gift shops and prime places from which to view the Canyon,
as well as the Village:
Near Hopi Point: Crevices always interest me, though not to the extent that I’d try to straddle one.
Near Maricopa Point: The Canyon is evolving, and that means there will be collapses along its many walls, as well as continued uplift.
Next year will bring a few more visits to Everyone’s Hole: A jaunt from Maricopa Point to Hermit’s Rest, on the west side of South Rim, in late March and a hike on the Uncle Jim Trail, North Rim, on what would have been my late Uncle Jim’s 86th birthday, June 3.
Last night marked the December Solstice, and though I didn’t do anything special to mark the passing of the shortest amount of sunlight, I felt the energy. I call this the December Solstice, being mindful that as we in the North experience cold and darkness, our brothers and sisters in the South have heat and light in their midst. In June, of course, we trade places. Many of us will enjoy a White Christmas, and my hope is that those in the Antipodes will find respite from the fires which have plagued Australia, Africa and the Amazon region, for much of this year.
This evening, Hanukkah begins at sunset, marking the eight days which commemorate the re-dedication of the second Temple of Jerusalem, following its profaning at the hands of the Seleucids (a dynasty of the Persian Empire). The Judean commander, Judah Maccabee, ordered this celebration, so that none would forget the degradation that was followed by resilience. My late wife, our son and I would light the menorah, a candelabrum that is used to hold nine candles, a central one called shamash, or “attendant”, from which the eight other candles are lit, one each evening of the festival. Penny would recite the blessing, in Hebrew, before we lit each candle.
Gold-wrapped candies, called gelt, are often given each night and small gifts may be exchanged, among those celebrating the Festival. It may be that this is the basis for the gift-giving which accompanies the celebration of Christmas, as December 25 either falls within the Hanukkah celebration, or immediately follows it. The rest of what we, in Western civilization and its offshoots, have come to associate with Christmas, largely comes from having adapted the traditions of others, first the Yule tree and its trimmings, along with robust feasting, from the pre-Christian cultures of northern and western Europe, then a host of others: Communal singing, special foods from various cultures which have adopted Christianity and alms for the poor.
The basis of all these holiday traditions, underneath all the pomp and camaraderie, remains spiritual. It was awe, at changes in the celestial realm, that prompted the Druids and their followers to observe Yule. It was the resurgence of Judaism, which inspired Hanukkah. It was the reverence which Christ’s first followers had for His birth, and for His life, which brought about the first Christmas. That it should have taken on elements of the two other great end-of-year celebrations, as well as modern commercialism,does not negate the spiritual basis for the near-universal appeal of Christmas. This is solely owing to the greatness and universality of the character of Jesus the Christ- His love of humanity, His fealty to the Creator and His inherent wisdom.
So, for me, for my family and for all humanity- Let this be, as Judah Maccabee decreed, in the days of resilience after the overthrow of tyranny: A Season of Light.
After a delicious and congenial dinner, this evening, three of us watched a heartwarming Korean film: “Little Forest”. It concerns a year in the life of a young woman, returning to her childhood home, from a less than successful foray into the capital city, Seoul.
The seasons play out, beginning with winter, as she regains a sense of who she is, with random help from a couple of childhood friends. Her thoughts often go back to her absent mother, who is revealed to have left, in search of her own identity.
Essentially, the film shows that one’s parents, especially one’s mother, never really leave. All the life lessons are ever present, as a grown child employs skills both consciously adopted and subliminally imparted. This is the true meaning of the common saw: “I’ve become my mother (or father).
I see a little of both my parents in myself. From my Dad, came an easy grace around people, a love of family gatherings, and a desire to learn from my mistakes. From my Mom came a love of knowledge, a basic regard for all people, irrespective of their station in life, a sane and intelligent patriotism, the ability to look beyond my own interests and yet, to put family first.
Mother is still very much alive, yet even when the time comes for her soul to take its flight, she will remain, just as my father has. No parent, no ancestor, ever really leaves a child, a descendant, behind.
A long absent friend re-connected with me, recently. He told me of his present life, as his wife’s full-time caretaker. This, of course, brought back memories of my own situation, 9-10 years ago. Had I to do it over again, I would, in a heartbeat.
More cogent, though, is the question of what connections in one’s life bring about commitments. Spouses, children and parents are obvious urgent commitments. Siblings and close friends are up there, also. There is, though, the caveat that people to whom your ties include respect for their individuality and privacy may not WANT anyone’s involvement in their lives. I face this, presently, with one whom I love dearly-knowing that love is something that requires me to leave her alone, at least as long as there is not threat to her life and limb. Even then, any involvement on my part would be in concert with her closest family members.
There is also, in a world that is, simultaneously, digitally connected and riven with anonymity and division, a tendency for the disconnected to demand attention, at least in social media and chat, for their most quotidian concerns. I can hear people saying, “Well, aren’t 90 % or more of our day-to-day lives made up of quotidian events?” Yes, they are, at least that much. I belong to a social media group that is called “I Did A Thing.” It is intended for people who have suffered from social anxiety and low self-concept, to gives themselves a boost, by sharing their everyday achievements with like-minded people. I don’t go on there as much, as I did in the beginning of the group, nor do I see that many people using the site, anymore. I do support those who post, some of whom I’ve met face-to-face.
The other group who post, largely in online chat forums, such as Facebook Messenger, are mentally ill adults, many of whom seem to have no other avenue to express their concerns. Most of these posts are about issues that those of us lucky enough to have had patient, loving parents and friends are able to resolve on our own. I have learned to schedule time, in early morning and late evening, to hear out such people and offer simple solutions, as best I can. The issues are often repeated, day to day, but that is what any one of us may called upon to address.
Our connections do not always require commitment, especially if, as sometimes happens to me, there are more pressing matters, closer to home. We do our best , though, as we just may be all one another have.
In the film, “King of the Gypsies”, the late Sterling Hayden plays the titular role, and remarks, upon encountering a different group of Roma: “Whose Gypsies are these?” It struck me as a curious thing for anyone to say-as I never have taken to the idea of one human being owning another-or others. Indeed, it was a few years ago that I relinquished use of the possessive pronoun “my”, when referencing any person by name, saving its use solely for clarifying a specific relationship.
I guess this is part of a larger movement in my mind- to get past thoughts of “Us and Them”. Growing up in a small town north of Boston, I was first aware of belonging to two large families, then to the Roman Catholic church, then to a town named Saugus, whose residents, for the most part, were of families whose forebears came from Europe. My education, as to how to regard people who looked different from us, was simple: We were to address them as “Sir”, “Ma’am” or by honorific (Mr._____, Mrs._____). Other kids were always called by their first names. The pejorative for African-Americans (My folks called them coloured people, in the 1950’s) was forbidden in our house. Needless to say, nobody with half a brain would ever have called Mrs. Robinson, who ran the junior high cafeteria, anything other than ” Miss Matron, Ma’am”. Mr. and Mrs. Woo, who had a laundry in Cliftondale Square, on the southeast side of town, were likewise accorded full respect, and the Chang family were pillars of the community.
So there was an early perception, in my head, that anyone who used racial or ethnic slurs was just plain ignorant. To be sure, lots of people moved into Saugus from other places, and brought their less than enlightened ideas about race and ethnicity into the social fabric. I never bought into any of it, and remember feeling sad when four little girls were blown to bits, in Birmingham, and when Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, were gunned down. It was as hard for me, as losing the Kennedy brothers.
Nonetheless, there was work for me to do on myself, as so many “harmless” stereotypes and inflections had made their way into my consciousness. My Black fellow soldiers, being as diverse a group as any similar collection of Whites, disabused me of a lot of preconceived notions that growing up in a mostly white community had imparted. To be sure, I have never been physically assaulted by anyone of African ancestry. I can’t say the same about my fellow Euro-Americans.
Gradually, I outgrew stereotypes about other groups of people, all residual from what I had observed in others, over the period of my childhood and adolescence. My inclusive views finally came full circle, when the humanity of those who spouted unfortunate views of exclusion and bigotry became apparent, without my having to adopt their way of thinking. Some people just need more patience than others.
So, it is with a fair degree of incredulity, that I hear one group or another say: “The People won’t stand for this!” To paraphrase Mr. Hayden’s character, ” To which people do you refer?” All humans are people-and while appealing to their humanity is hard, sometimes exasperating, work, I feel I can do no less.
Sometimes, the unexpected can seem to hit at a time that might ordinarily be unnerving. Sometimes, the expected does not happen, and the choice as to whether it IS unnerving is strictly up to the one doing the expecting.
It was quite unexpected, last night, when I turned on an in-room Jacuzzi, that one of the water jets came flying out of its anchor, and water was sent clear across the room-to the bathroom mirror. I turned off the motor and cleaned up the water mess. Needless to say, I’ve had better whirlpool baths.
After many years of knowing people, I expected, at an event I attended prior to greeting Yunhee at the airport, to be more warmly welcomed by the hosts. It was, however, a social justice event and those who rate highly in the Social Justice hierarchy are given top priority. Those of us who are lower on that particular totem pole were not introduced to the higher echelon, even when we were sitting right in front of the hosts and their Higher Ups. This says a lot about the Social Justice movement-and about why it will fail, unless the same old pecking order mentality finds its way to the dust heap. I can do hierarchies well, (wealthy benefactors are just people, at their core), but I can’t do apartheid thinking.
Family matters most to me, though, so I accomplished my main objective, and this morning and afternoon were spent taking breakfast at an American chain restaurant (IHOP), tending to two personal business matters for Yunhee, visiting Penny’s grave site, taking in a bit of Cave Creek and Carefree, having lunch at Rock Springs Cafe, and getting DIL settled in at a friend’s house, two blocks from Home Base. We had a lovely dinner, prepared by said friend, and discussed our “rough plan” for the rest of the week.
I read, a few days ago, about a homeless man in the Phoenix area, who had committed a heinous crime, whilst suffering psychiatric illness. The story stated that this man had been passed through the Arizona mental health system, for over a decade. He had enough of an understanding of his own condition to ask for a shower and a follow-up appointment with one of the original counselors who had first met with him, when he was brought into a facility, by the police. These requests were denied, according to the newspaper account, and he was back on the street, largely against his wishes.
In Maricopa County, there are at least a dozen agencies, which purport to address mental health issues. I once worked, briefly, for the agency that, also briefly, worked with the man in question. I was not successful in my endeavours with that agency, partly because of my also serving as Penny’s caretaker and partly because the ego feathers of the agency branch’s leadership were ruffled by my personality and manner of talking with my clients. The agency, in the case cited above, was one of several which dealt with that man, and somehow they all dropped the ball, not knowing of each others’ presence in his life. He remains a person whose only security comes when he is incarcerated.
I mention this, because in dealing with the mentally ill, each of us finds self in a bind, of sorts. When someone dear to me faced a severe mental illness, many years ago, I chose to address the matter head-on, but not address it alone. There was a team of professionals, who helped solve many of the problems and it was left to me and others close to this person, to resolve the rest. We were, however, not left alone and the person has gone on to lead a masterful life.
I have had a few people present their issues to me, over the years, both in Phoenix and here in Prescott. Two of these people stayed with my family and me, during the last two years of Penny’s life. We were able to help one of them orient his life, but the other was a work in progress, when I moved to Prescott. At that time, my own grief was still raw and I was the one who needed compassion.
Time passed, I was able to help one homeless man get situated and centered, albeit with some difficulty. Once he trusted in the agencies with whom I put him in contact, things went better. The second person I tried to help, at the behest of a mutual friend, turned out to be someone who had already tried all the resources I recommended, and was irritated by my personality and foibles, to the point where we are no longer in contact.
The beat goes on, and I am open to those who have difficulties, who don’t know to whom else to turn. I will maintain, to anyone who is suffering mental or emotional health difficulties, to not rely on social media for resolution, nor to rely on any one person for same. I am a loving soul, but I am also far from perfect and the last thing I want is for my own lifestyle, activity level or personal mental state (mild Asperger’s/autism) to waylay the progress of a person whose viewpoint, regarding that progress, is at variance with how I see things. I had a brief online conversation, this evening, with such a person. Besides, each of us is marvelous complex.
That individual is right about something, though. Mental illness is anything but a laughing matter. You will not find me including someone else’s affliction as a punchline, in my repertoire of jokes. He’s also right about people paying attention to his problems. That attention, first and foremost, needs to start with family and one, committed team of professionals, of the individual’s choosing, in consultation with family. Random people, no matter how compassionate they are, can’t direct a suffering soul towards the light, in the way that family can.
The voices of the suffering will not be silenced and they will not “go quietly into that good night.”
A year ago, my shoulder was getting better and my left knee, injured by what seemed to be a psychic attack, as I walked down a short, routine set of stairs, was also well on the mend. The “woo-woo” aside, my health has been fabulous this year. I am grateful to do Terra essential oils, hemp-based CBD cream, a team of physical therapists, my dental team in Phoenix, Planet Fitness and my chiropractor for helping me maintain that fabulous.
My family has been extraordinarily gracious and generous this year, as always. Being with Aram, Yunhee and the Shin family, on the occasion of their Baha’i wedding, and the travels around southern South Korea that followed, remains the greatest of blessings.
My Baha’i community and other dear friends, around Prescott, continue to keep me grounded. Those whose aim was to bring me down also had a role to play. Rearranging my priorities this year, has only made my life richer and more satisfying.
Prescott, and Arizona as a whole, continue to be inspiring, good hosts. I never tire of the view of Thumb Butte, from my front window or of any of the exquisite scenes that unfold, no matter which direction I go.
My many friends and family, across the United States, and beyond, are ever present and encouraging, even if we rarely, or never, see one another in person. I am grateful to have spent time with some, from California to Massachusetts and in-between, over the past twelve months.
Being ever expansive in my view of the world, visiting new places and making new friends is always a plus. I found new perspectives on Albuquerque, Memphis, Charleston, Raleigh, the Eastern Shore and Delaware, West Point, Pittsburgh, Chicago/Wilmette, Kansas City and Los Angeles, over the past twelve months. Youth hostels, Airbnb and the comfort of friends’ and family homes made all the difference.
Time in nature is always huge, in my life. The Centenary of Grand Canyon National Park saw me visit both North and South Rims. The Navajo Nation’s Coal Mine Canyon, Canyon de Chelly, Window Rock and Monument Valley ever warm my heart. Being in New Mexico’s El Malpais was a comfort, after a case of food poisoning upended my Father’s Day. There were meanders along the banks of the Mississippi and above the Goosenecks of the San Juan River; focused exploration of Utah’s Natural Bridges and Hovenweep National Monuments, Lake Powell’s Wahweap area and the urban solace of Los Angeles’ Venice Canals re-affirmed who I am,at my core.
The greatest gratitudes are reserved for what is ongoing: My mother’s continued presence in our lives, my little family returning to the United States, having three of the finest people as my siblings, my Faith in God being reaffirmed, each day, and my physical, financial and mental health remaining optimal.
Thank you, 2019, for having been, and remaining, a space of strength and comfort.
A Sagittarian Seeker 