November 26, 2023, Grapevine- “1845 was the year that the Union joined Texas”, the young waiter intoned, tongue firmly in cheek. With that, my advance birthday dinner began, with what turned out to be endless lemonade (from Rio Grande Valley lemons), followed by Fort Worth filet mignon and oven baked Brussels sprouts, poblano meatballs and, for Son, a Game Combo of venison and quail drums (breasts and a leg). We can safely say that the plates, while not Texas-sized, were more than ample. The desserts were Texas-sized, and we’ll leave it at “Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire! I did have a sparkling candle in my pumpkin crispy, as word got out that my birthday is forthcoming. 1845: Taste Texas is top of the line, in fare and in style-no corners cut. It was a meal for the ages.

Before that, though, we took in the wild side of Dallas, and I don’t mean riding a mechanical bull. Cedar Ridge Preserve sits on the south side of Big D, and is intended to offer safe space for butterflies, birds large and small, and the small carnivores that keep other species in check. As the name implies, cedars are the dominant trees. There are a few ponds, here and there, but what sets this stretch of prairie apart from elsewhere in DFW Metro is the ups and downs offered by the 10-mile trail system. This park could be at home in Prescott. Needless to say, it was a good workout.

It was a fine cap to the Thanksgiving weekend, and a prelude to the end of my 73rd trip around the Sun-which comes on Tuesday. I also fly back to AZ on Tuesday evening, so this dinner fell nicely into place.

Now it’s time to look back at June, July and August. As with other months, people left. Some had checkered public records-Pat Robertson and James Watt left us, a day apart. Ted Kaszynski had a scary public record, finally taking his own life, in early June. Leslie Van Houten didn’t take her own life, but certainly took those of others, so many years ago. Cormac McCarthy wrote, tellingly, of other people’s checkered lives. Daniel Ellsberg warned us of same. Sinead O’Connor hollered about injustice, and sounded melodious. Dame Glenda Jackson astonished us, on stage and Paul Reubens made us chuckle, with his puckish wit. Robbie Robertson made us think, while honouring his First Nations family. Lahaina, Hawaii practically perished as a community, in a freakish wildfire.

Closer to my circle, the queenly countenance of Wilma Ellis left us Baha’is behind, for the spirit realm. Childhood friends Rodney Lavoie and Robert Ritchie passed their batons to their beloved children. A cousin, David Wonoski, passed suddenly and my last living uncle-by-marriage, Dave Dufour, saw the end of a long, varied and colourful life. JR Cline, with whom I visited twice on cross-country journeys, saw his long and valiant fight come to an end.

My path went to three camps, all carefully managed to the best of my ability. WiFi did not fade out this time, thanks to my iPhone. Other local homages were to a good friend who turned 60; to the Granite Mountain Hotshots, who perished ten years ago, at Yarnell Hill; and to the summer solstice, on, where better, Solstice Mesa, in north Prescott. I sat with a dog, later with cats, and tended to people’s needs at Hope Fest, which came early this year.

Travels were both long and short: A hike in honour of the departed Hotshots, at the State Park established in their names, preceded the 10th Commemoration, in downtown Prescott. A return to Bell Rock, near Sedona, brought variations in light into focus. A Grand Canyon visit, to the west side of South Rim, had to be cut short, when a deluge closed the main road heading south. I made a detour, through the Navajo Nation and Flagstaff, as I had an appointment in Prescott, the next day. July 17-29 took me through the Mojave Desert, Central Valley, Oregon and Washington, to British Columbia. There were visits with Baha’i friends in Ashland, OR, Victoria, BC-and, sweetest of all, a performance in “The Wizard of Oz”, by a girl I look upon as a grandniece, in Carson City. In each case, my visit seemed to have an outsized effect on the host’s sense of well-being. That’s actually the hope, wherever I go. New friends were also made in Ludlow, CA; Medford and Salem, OR; Centralia and Chehalis, WA.Richmond and Nanaimo, BC. That’s also the idea. Zipping down to a dental appointment, on two hours’ notice and zipping back up to get my trusty vehicle serviced, after a long trip-that’s also the idea.

As August ended, I headed out to a Baha’i school, the House of Worship in Wilmette, and mother’s milestone celebration. Many are those who fill my heart; she is first among them. The people I specifically visited, these three months, are also in that category.