Tales from the 2016 Road: Christmas in July

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July 3, 2016, Avilla, MO- There was a span of 38 years, since I last saw Lisa, one of my younger cousins.  In our family, last has never been least.  Each member of the brood has an essential place.  Lisa followed in the footsteps of her mother, who served as a WAVE during World War II, by becoming a member of the Women’s Army Corps, for several years.  When that was finished, she became a teacher, like her father.   She’s still a teacher- and a farm wife, in this little slice of heaven, in southwest Missouri, between Joplin and Springfield.

I was invited to join their family’s Christmas in July celebration, with attendant fireworks.  People in the Midwest set off their own fireworks, as befits a farm culture.  There was a marvelous spread, to get things started, and as we recalled from our childhood days, such gatherings involve sitting around ad spinning yarns, as well as discussing the topics of the day, in a civil fashion.

It was a lovely day and evening, so here are a few scenes from down on the farm, in Avilla.

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The farm property at Avilla

Lisa and family were busy, setting up the festivities.

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Here are some scenes of the gang sitting around, and of the fireworks.

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Grandkids getting ready for the display.

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Solving the world’s ills

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Fire away!

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Sky lit up!

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Light show!

We then exchanged gifts, in White Elephant fashion.So went a fine re-connection with a bright and loving member of my extended family, which is now extended even further, with her husband, kids and grandkids.

Tales from the 2016 Road: Da Vinci’s Coffee and A Welcoming Sun Room

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July 2, 2016, Enid-  John Glaze and I have visited one another, back and forth, for about five years now- both online and in person.  My latest stop in Enid found John going about his usual business:  Mowing lawns, working out ideas about improving the back part of his house, and visiting with the Saturday morning crowd at da Vinci’s Coffee House, not far from his house.

John tended to the yards, front and back, first thing this morning, before the heat set in.  I remained on the screened porch, for the time being.

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Life on East Meadowbrook, Enid, OK

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Back yard, East Meadowbrook, Enid

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Back yard, East Meadowbrook, Enid

John is justifiably proud of the garden spot.

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Master landscaper, Enid, OK

He also showed me a couple of ceramic tiles, sent him by a mutual friend.

We went to  Grand Avenue Cafe, Enid’s oldest restaurant, for a fine breakfast.  Then, it was off to da Vinci Coffee House, for an hour or so, enjoying rich java and home made pastries, brought by a couple of the fine ladies who help comprise the Saturday morning gathering.  The young couple who own this establishment were on hand to greet everyone, with a handshake and a hug, for regular and visitor, alike.  We were regaled by the stories of a well-traveled local resident, who had been everywhere I mentioned, except Alaska.  I

After da Vinci, John brought me over to an antique emporium, where I picked up just the right coral  serving dish to gift my cousin, whom I would visit the following day, in southwest Missouri.  We also went to a Catholic thrift store, where I was happy to visit the Chapel of St. Ann.

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Chapel of St. Ann, Enid, OK

I didn’t have as many photos of this solid town, in Oklahoma’s northwest, as I might have.  It all was part of being unobtrusive, and being a polite visitor. Being in John’s company is always a pleasure, though.

NEXT UP:  Chief Joseph’s Memorial and Ponca City

 

Who Am I?

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June 22, 2016, Springerville, AZ- My father passed away, thirty years ago, today.  Then, as now, I made a long journey.  Then, as now, it took a few phone calls to get the details right.  I arrived at my destination after six hours of travel.  I was comforted by the very people I came to comfort.  He was given a dignified send-off, and from the spirit realm, he still looks after me, in a stern, but loving manner.

Who, exactly, did Dad leave behind?  I was not the easiest of sons to raise, but there was a lot about autism that was not known, that was misunderstood.  There still is, in the perceptions of many people.  There is, however, nothing about who I am that limits me.  I have raised a fine young man, and am gladly here to answer his questions about the time of life that is young adulthood.  I am here to encourage his success, to boost him over the bar.

I am also here to reach out to as many people as possible.  July will be yet another month on the road.  This time, though, it will be focused on family members, some close and some long-lost.  It will be focused, as well, on friends- some in pain, some offering joy.  I will be keeping an eye on things in Arizona, though there are still those nagging critics who take umbrage at my having missed this meeting, or not being available for that event during the coming four weeks.

I am not easy to define.  Mostly, my living consists of proferring love on those around me. It’s the most basic thing in the world, and in the Universe, for that matter. There will always be those who try to obfuscate and throw me off course. There will always be those who hear the word “widower” and think, “troll”- as is the case with one of my co-workers here at the fire shelter.  No matter:  I am here to do a service, and I will continue, whether this person likes it or not.  I am very open about my wife’s having passed on.  The other part is that I am open about being comfortable with how my life is now.  This life is full of bonds, and true friendships.  The false of purpose, and the fearful, need not worry about my presence.

Another thing that colours my life:  Commitment to the generations coming up behind me; not just my son and young relatives, but the well-being of all.  A case in point:  When I stopped for dinner at one of my “A-List” California restaurants, en route back to Prescott, I was struck by the humidity inside the place, and concerned for two young ladies, who were dressed in Victorian attire, in their roles as servers, and who were about to crumple from the stifling air.  The manager, herself about to keel over, had them go into a small staff room, which was more comfortable.  We need to pay close attention to those who work hard on our behalf.  Fortunately, all three ladies recovered nicely.

This is my 1,000th Word Press post.  To leave you with more of a sense of who I am, here are a few scenes from my coastal visit on Monday.  First, here are two scenes of Cardiff State Beach, west of Encinitas.

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Not your typical June Gloom, but a bit of mist was there, on San Elijo Beach.

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Beach artistry is alive and well.

Up the coast, at Dana Point, I enjoyed a lengthy lunchtime conversation, with a longtime friend, at another of my California “A-list” establishments.

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Harpoon Henry’s is at the south end of Dana Point Harbor.

Who am I, really?  I’m just a human being who treasures those in his life, who is glad for the form in which I find myself, who does not have a need to judge the paths and courses of life taken by others, insofar as they do not harm those around them and who looks forward to whatever tale each day has to present.

Post 1,001 will look at an estuary- the mixing of fresh and salt water, and why brackishness is a good thing.

 

Father’s Day Weekend

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June 18-19, 2016, Chula Vista-

Saturday and Sunday were among the best, most bonding days I’ve had with Aram, in a good long while, which is saying something, because we are tight, for two who live such separate lives, in neighbouring states.

It comes down to parenting never being a work of completion.  I bounced things off my Dad, every so often, until he was no longer physically here to approach, for that purpose.  He still makes his views known, though, and I am finally at the point where I sense he is happy with my choices.  I can say the same about my pride in my son.  He has established himself as a valued presence, though his current position is not his life’s work.

Saturday was a day for errands, so we went to the recycling station, which is actually not  from his place, contrary to what their website says. We also found a Michael’s, for some frames he needed.  I was pleased to have found one that fit an off-sized print he had.  Filippi’s, one of my A-List restaurants in San Diego, has a branch in Chula Vista, so we hopped on over there for a sandwich lunch.

Sunday was a scorcher, all over the continent it seems.  I got reports from friends in Ontario, in Florida and in the Midwest, of horrible temps.  We nonetheless enjoyed a forty-five minute revisit to Japanese-American Friendship Garden, in Balboa Park, with a concert featuring the world’s largest carillon pipe organ, in the background.

Given the heat which most people reading this endured yesterday, I present you with various scenes of running water.

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The bonsai exhibit is an exception, but it endures with minimal watering.

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Aram’s birth sign is water.  H2O has always been his friend.

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Here’s a nice view of the Lower Garden pond, which opened in July, 2015.

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The water filters along rocks, carefully placed along the downslope.

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This mallard was more than glad to stand in pose.

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Close your eyes, and imagine Old Japan.

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Rocks and flowing water are staples of the Japanese garden.

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Small cascades invite one to splash about; though that would be bad form.

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Lilies are more common here, than they were a few years ago.

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Just how deep are these rocks?

We were suitably inspired by the water scenes, to head straight for the Jamba Juice, in a Chula Vista shopping mall, near the harbour.  Copious amounts of refreshing liquid are always welcome to both our palates.

Dinner was, of course, a buffet- at Zorba’s Cafe, with all my favourite Greek dishes.  This time, though, we both “made do” with about half the offerings.  Less can definitely be more.

I will go philosophical in my next post, which is the 1,000th of this website.  Scenes of the Cardiff-by-the-Sea beachfront, and of San Elijo Preserve’s western lagoon, will help in this effort.  Stay tuned.

Solstice

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June 21, 2016, Prescott-

I read the tortured words of an angel, just now

and wonder at the eyes that don’t see,

the hearts that don’t feel.

I love, stay close, and don’t see her as a burden.

I listened, on Sunday, to my son’s angst

over his future,

and wonder how such a talented, fastidious soul

could question his own worth.

I love, stay close, and don’t see him as unworthy.

I will soon head out to yet another fire shelter.

We will do what we can to comfort, soothe and reassure

those whom nature, in her wrath,  has cast aside.

We love, stay vigilant and don’t see them as nuisances.

The day is long here,

and we hydrate, stay cool and stand in awe  of the Sun.

The day is short, down there,

and they bundle up, stay warm and seek the comfort of the Moon.

I have more work to do, on here, so stay tuned.

Guiding Spirits

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June 4-5, 2016, Burntwater, AZ-  There are, as I have indicated various times, several places in the world where I feel like family, and not just a passing acquaintance who is forgotten as soon as I leave.  Reno/Carson City is one such place, the Prescott area, where I live most of the time,  Metro San Diego (where my son lives) – and this small corner of the country’s largest Indian Nation, are among the others.  Burntwater used to have a trading post.  Now, it has the Native American Baha’i Institute of Learning.  That may sound redundant, but educating people of all ages has been the core purpose of this facility, since it was founded, in 1981.  I always feel like the Guiding Spirits are with me here.  When I arrived here, on Friday night, it was late, so I rolled out the sleeping bag and slept under the stars, as we all had, that first weekend on the property- when there were no buildings.

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Native American Baha’i Institute’s 35th Anniversary

Thus, about thirty of us gathered here, these past two days-  to recount the past thirty-five years and to plan, with a group of service-oriented youth, for its immediate and short-term future.  NABIL has come far, since 10-15 of us gathered here, in June, 1981, and sat with a group of Dine’ (Navajo) elders, asking them what they wanted to see here.  I remember the first thing on their list was reliable water.  So, a dowser came to visit, a well was dug, and the long drive to a pump, of spotty reliability, was over, within three months.  That well has been replaced, by an even more reliable water source, in the past ten years.  Local residents can get a portion of water that they all agreed upon, in council, with everyone’s opinion heard and considered, by the community. This is how Dine’, and most Native Americans across the country, are used to doing things.  A weekly community dinner is offered on Thursday evenings, and this is also a chance for residents to freely air their concerns.

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The Library is the central meeting place, for consultation and mindfulness.

Financial literacy classes, the trades and some college preparatory classes are among the services that the current staff are hoping to see offered here, in the next several years.  The Institute has come a long way.  I stayed in a comfortable lodge, for the second night I was there.

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As with any place that people gather, the dining hall is also a key place for consultation and camaraderie.

I was asked, upon getting ready to leave on Sunday morning, to remember that I must not be a stranger here.  The permanent staff have been like family to me, for a long time, so I will bear that in mind.  Driving across Hopi, also a place that is home, I found the place quiet, though I later learned that there was a social dance, which I apparently missed.  No worries, as there were two fires, along the route  back to Prescott, and I had to focus on getting back in one piece.  It looked as if the fires were under control, though.

I was back, and had my house cooled off, by 6 PM.  Now, let’s see what a week in one place will look like.

 

Extended Family, Reno & Carson, Days 3 &4: Tides of Transition

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May 31-June 1, 2016, Carson City- 

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Sundial, Carson City

We spent the past two days intermittently going through boxes, tending to errands in Reno, watching days 2 &3 of the new version of “Roots” and enjoying a fantastic barbecue, at the Sandoval residence.  Above is Veronica’s sundial, which keeps watch over her little swimming pool.  Uncle Gary, of course, had to get splashed, show her how to toss water at the far fence and discuss the meaning of an episode of “My Little Ponies”- which does have more intellectual fiber, for the minds of 3-5 year-olds, than we older ones might think.

Tuesday was busy, but peaceful here, roiling back at home base (Prescott) and generally a day that brought some enjoyment (see below), but which I was glad to see over. By bedtime on Wednesday, though, all was calm again.

We had a pleasant lunch at Mel’s Diner, in Reno, served by one of the most effervescent young women I have ever met.  Diner food is one of my guilty pleasures, anyway, so it didn’t take much to get me to agree to stop there, after Michele’s walk-through at her old apartment.

On the way back to Carson, we drove through Washoe Lake State Park, between Reno and Carson City.  The serenity of this place is reminiscent of several similar places in the Prescott area.

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Bridge along Hwy. 395, Washoe Valley, NV.  Mt. Rose is in background.

The bridge over Washoe Valley is remarkable for its length.  Mount Rose calls out to be hiked, but that is an item for another year’s agenda.  The Valley itself is stunning, as a place to unwind for many, and as a redoubt for the well-to-do.

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Deer, resting near irrigation sprinkler, Washoe Valley, NV

A herd of deer were roaming near this irrigation pipe, an excellent way to beat the mid-day heat.

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Beagle Rock, Washoe Lake State Park, NV

This rock was painted, by person or persons unknown, about ten years ago.

The crowning event of the day was Veronica’s tae-kwon-do session.  Watch out, world!

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Veronica gets ready to chop.

Watching my little angels grow has been a joy, for thirty six years and counting.  I thank the Lord this will be ongoing.  The session took me back to the late ’90’s, when my son was learning this martial art form.

The time here was capped with the above-mentioned barbecue.  The Sandovals pulled out all the stops, and presented us with everything from the usual hot dogs and burgers to carne asada and grilled pineapple.  Freshly baked  pan dulce capped the meal.  It was one of those “No more food for a month” affairs, which is what happens, in a loving environment.

Now, it’s time to head on down  to the next important event:  A 35th Anniversary Reunion of those who opened the Native American Baha’i Institute, in Burntwater, Arizona.

NEXT UP:  The highway that was once “America’s loneliest”.

 

Extended Family, Reno- Carson, Day 2: Memorial Day

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May 30, 2016, Reno- We came back up here, visiting the laid-back, always loving, fluid family mash-up that is the Hill household.  The 3-6 souls who anchor the Reno point of my family constellation are predictable in two ways:  There will always be interesting media on-screen, usually streaming video or movies; and there will always be food delivered, in copious quantities.

Our fare today was not barbecue (“Too dry around here”), but Domino’s pizza, wings (both bone-in and boneless), Parmesan bites, and Dad’s Root Beer.  There was enough to take care of the eight of us for the rest of the day.  The film was Barbara Streisand’s and Seth Rogen’s  “Guilt Trip”.  Neither my mother or I, as much as we love one another, would ever countenance a drive together that lasted more than three hours. As a movie, though, the character growth inherent in a parent-child journey makes for a captivating story line.  Both grew, marvelously, as people, by the end of the film- and largely because there was mutual fulfillment.

Memorial Day’s main purpose, though, was not lost on anyone here.  There was a solemnity in the house- W’s stepfather, who raised her, has been gone three years;  S was lost in thought about his departed loved ones; and it goes without saying that my thoughts were not far from my beloved.  That we were each far from the cemeteries that hold the remains of those gone on, mattered little.  They continue to inspire us and watch us carefully.

 

Extended Family, Reno-Carson: Day One

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May 29, 2016, Carson City- There are several places in the world, where I feel among family.  Over the past five years, the blended family that straddles the burgeoning area of northwest Nevada has provided one of those places.  The Smiths have been friends of ours for over twenty years.  Their children and grandchildren have maintained that tie, and grown into extended family.

The youngest grandchild has been a particular delight- a spirited, highly intelligent 4 1/2-year-old.  I was introduced, this morning, to her Star Wars robot.

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Veronica’s Star Wars robot

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Veronica’s Star Wars robot

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Veronica’s Star Wars robot

Okay, that was overkill, but this little lady has given me practice at potential grandparenthood. I am inclined towards a combination of healthy fun mode and diligent oversight, as well as being concerned with the child’s holistic growth.

This day was thus a low-key affair, helping with locating moved items, unpacking some boxes and helping to re-establish the household.  Such will be the order of the next three days, worked around the usual family events.

 

There Is No Empty

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May 28, 2016, Carson City- The medical emergency which hospitalized an old friend, yesterday, has abated somewhat.  As is usually the case in a responsible medical institution, she has been kept overnight and will be able to leave hospital tomorrow, if her condition holds and tests turn up negative.

So, with my anxiety thus relieved, I headed north from Prescott, at a suitably early hour ( 8 A.M.), stopping for a late breakfast at Westside Lilo’s, my restaurant of choice in Seligman, a fun, touristy town, some 34 miles northwest of Prescott.  Lilo and her husband have had this German-Mexican fusion establishment since 1963.  It, along with several other places in town, do a land-office business, owing to the popularity of the area as a pit stop between Las Vegas and the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.   After a lovely chorizo scramble, and some banter with Lilo, I was off again, this time without the transmission issues that clouded last year’s Reno trip.

Being a holiday weekend, traffic through Kingman and Las Vegas was a fraction of what it normally is.  I made it through the metro area in rather short time, choosing to stop at Indian Springs, on the far north side of Clark County, for a refueling.

U.S. 95 was characteristically sparse with traffic, most of it being commercial on this serene Saturday, and much of that was comprised of fuel tankers, of all things.  A spot of rain in and around Tonopah, and again in the area east of Boundary Peak, gave a bit of a shake-up to the droning drive.  Another point of interest is the transition zone between the Mojave Desert and the Great Basin.  The Joshua Trees, and other plants native to the Mojave, fade out near Coaldale Junction, about an hour north of Tonopah.  The Basin is largely grassland, at least in this area.  Salt flats are a bit more common than I remember seeing, in previous visits.  Then again, I was pre-occupied with the car last year, and may not have noticed.

Speaking of which, my stop in Hawthorne, just south of Walker Lake, was brief and uneventful this time.  A tankful of gas was all that was needed.  Looking in the restroom mirror, though, I saw a scruffy face, with an uneven shave, looking back at me.  That may have explained the “30-45 minute wait” I was offered at Pizza Factory, near the Shell station.  I moved on, taking a quick look at the lake, before heading to Carson City in greater earnest.

It is still cool here, in the eastern reaches of Sierra Nevada, and it will be a while before Mt. Grant (above, right) sheds its snow cover.

The old friend whom I am visiting these next few days  has,  this very day, moved from Reno to Carson City, closer to her younger daughter and youngest grandchild.  It is partly my purpose to help with the inevitable furniture moving and unpacking of boxes, as her settling in again continues.  After a lovely drive through the scenic Smith Valley, with its towns of Yerington, Wellington, Gardnerville and Minden, punctuated by the gorgeous West Fork of the Walker river, I found it prudent to get a hearty dinner at El Charro Avitia, on Carson City’s south end.  There, I enjoyed the delights of seafood enchilada and shared in the locals’ joy in their favoured Golden State Warriors’ come-from-behind victory.

It took a bit longer to locate my host’s new residence, but here I am, at the end of the day, and in the process helping her to note that her new apartment complex has two distinct sub-complexes.  Out of confusion comes learning.  I am fortunate to have several places where I feel like I’m with family.  Tomorrow, a little angel will explain to me the world of cartoon dragons.