January 30, 2024- I came upon the heart-shaped mineral, admiring its inherent sublime beauty. Picking it up, and feeling its smoothness, just for few minutes, gave me an appreciation of the heat, the pressure and the various cracks and separations that this piece of finery endured, over millennia, to arrive here, along Highland Nature Center’s Trail #4442. I noted that it has, underneath, a perfect heart-shaped indentation in the ground.
A quiet testimony to the love of the Universe
After placing the stone carefully back over its indentation, I thought of the value of solitude. What would I do, if everyone I cared about, including the woman I love most in this world, were to disappear from this life? What would I do, if they all decided they’d had enough, and left me on my own? I would be like the rock, still occupying my space and still reflecting the strength that the Divine has imparted into me. I would be ready for whatever came next.
As long as we draw breath, there is a purpose. As long as we have form, shape, solidity, there is a future. I went there, to Highland Center’s trail to Lynx Creek, having not been on it for several years, after another event was canceled, due to a scheduling conflict. The trail showed me the seemingly endless stretch of the Bradshaw Mountains, to the south and southeast.
Bradshaw Mountains, stretching south from Lynx Lake
After a stretch, I came to Lynx Creek, frozen on its surface, about a mile from the lake that was formed when it was dammed, in 1952. Of course, being Arizona, the ice is scarcely an inch thick.
Lynx Creek, at Highland Nature Center
Coming out of my reverie, I recognized that this morning of solitude was largely due to everyone else being busy with life, as I am myself, most days. My dearest, across the ocean, was asleep-and besides, she is in the midst of a very busy week. My friends here are likewise dealing with life’s happenings. I will be back in that regimen, myself, tomorrow and for the rest of 2024’s fifth week. Today, though, it is as if I have Planet Earth to myself-looking at the stretch of the Bradshaws, this morning and at the shimmering oak tree, in my neighbour’s front yard, as I write this piece.
Here is a gratuitous reminder of that regimen, from yesterday’s trip to Phoenix: The Arizona State Capitol.
January 7, 2024, Ghost Ranch, NM- The knock came on my door, at 10 a.m. sharp, as the snow was still coming down, in Gallup. ”Housekeeping!”, so I opened the door, and the young lady assured me that, with the snow, she was taking everything casually and I needn’t rush out the door-checkout time notwithstanding. After finishing my prayers, I started up Sportage, cleaned all the snow off and loaded up, for the drive here. Poor kid was speaking to her supply cart, encouraging its spirit to keep going. Dineh people sense that everything, even a machine or wheeled tool, is animated by a spirit. It worked for her, as the cart did not get stuck in the snow.
Likewise, Sportage did not get stuck in the snow, which was fairly deep on the road out of Gallup, tapering off when I turned onto McKinley County Road 9, headed towards Crownpoint, the seat of the Eastern Navajo Agency. I drove steadily to Cuba, NM, and stopped for a breathtaking cup of hot green chili. This was real New Mexico chili, served up proudly, at Cuban Cafe, by Tia Sonya (not her real name)-who says “None of that foo-foo meat, beans and onions! You want chili here, you get the peppers in their own juice!” It is a fiery treat, especially on such a winter’s day. A BLT and hot coffee balanced out the fire.
After gassing up, I left Cuba and encountered about fifteen miles of snow-packed road, on NM Route 96. Sportage took the challenge very easily, and by the time I came to the small village of Gallina, the road was covered with red mud and cinders, being dropped by a snowplow, with its blade up and the cinder bin open. I stayed behind the plow, which left the road once it was bare. Fortunately, the twists and turns near Abiquiu Lake were on the bare stretch of road.
Now, I am at Ghost Ranch, which I briefly visited, two years ago. The team on which I will be working is made up of a wiry, well-seasoned gentleman, a few years my senior, who reminds me of my buddy Wes Hardin; a reticent, but pleasant, lady from Kansas; and a friendly couple from Kansas City, MO, who have served on the Winter Workforce a few times, already. It looks to be a light schedule, yet I am glad to be here and tap into the spiritual energy from the surrounding area. I am also glad there is WiFi, so as to let me share this week with all of you.
January 3, 2024- Spotting a fresh bear track, I gingerly peered into the small crevice, from six feet away. Sure enough, there was a juvenile black bear, its backside facing out. Bear was in hibernation, so my quiet steps quickly went up the trail, to the mesa top, in the heart of Granite Dells. The young couple who had joined me at Watson Lake Dam had gone on ahead, and the family of five who I had spoken with, ten minutes earlier, were also on their way back to the parking lot-so no one was likely to “poke the bear”, so to speak.
Lions and bears, but no tigers, are fairly expected in this unique area on Prescott’s northeast side. Usually, they are most active at night, or in early morning, so there is little chance of encountering them during my preferred winter hiking time, which is mid-day. I went here today, as my first hike of 2024. New Year’s Day just felt like a day to hang out in the apartment, so that’s what I did. Today, though, was the last nice day, before a stretch of winter precipitation-during which I will head to Ghost Ranch, after attending a farewell gathering for a couple of friends and helping out at Farmers Market.
Here are some scenes from today’s hike.
Ever wonder what frozen algae looks like? This comes pretty close.
Still guarding the approach to Watson Lake Dam!
Heart rocks have been absent from my hikes for a while. Now, I am finding them again.
Two ducklings are making the best of the cold.
The sprawl of Granite Dells is one of its greatest allures.
This small dome requires a side hike, on the west side of the Dells.
One more heart rock, for the sake of love.
As I finish this post, snow has fallen in the neighbourhood, for the first time this winter.
December 26, 2023, Santa Fe- It was 6 F, about ten miles south of Chevelon Butte, along the road between Payson and Winslow, at 6:30, this morning. By the time I reached Winslow, the heat had kicked in and it was a balmy 21 F. Gallup offered 19 degrees and Albuquerque, 37.
Along the route, I saw two coyotes sprinting across the highway, between Stoneridge and Crossroads, in Prescott Valley and, much later, two pronghorns gamboling in the desert, just east of the Rio Puerco Casino, outside Albuquerque. Police were along the highways in force, especially in the early morning hours, when I was driving in darkness. Passing the upended hulk of a wrecked semi-trailer, I felt grateful for their presence.
The main focus of the day, though, was on petroglyphs, the communication medium of pre-writing societies, in many parts of the world. Albuquerque’s Petroglyph National Monument, in the Duke City’s northwest corner, offers hundreds of descriptive figures, in three main clusters. The first, just south of the small Visitor Center, is Rinconada Canyon. This sector features a 2.2 mile loop trail, which took me about 45 minutes, a good part of which was spent noting the depicted animals and people.
West Mesa, at Petroglyph National Monument, Albuquerque.Easternmost petroglyphs of Rinconada Canyon.In the upper left hand corner, two beady eyes peer out from a small rock.This collection reminded me of Newspaper Rock, south of Gallup.The artists used pigment from plants, to add luster to some of their glyphs, chipping off the naturally-occurring lacquer and applying pigment to the bare stone underneath.Two fish, a festal cup and a star adorn this rock.This basalt ledge is one of many that served as a grinding table.Spanish explorers added their art to the rocks. This “patriarchal” cross is one of many found in the West Mesa rock forest.Here is an example of a figure that gives rise to speculation about extraterrestrial visitors. Puebloans caution against such speculation, saying we cannot know, for certain, what the ancients had in mind when these scenes were painted.
I went on, to Boca Negra (“Black Mouth”) Canyon. Here, there are three trails: The short Macaw Trail, the moderate Cliff Base and the “strenuous” Mesa Point Trail, which was easily climbed by a three-year-old girl, along with the rest of the group.
Mesa Point Trail:
At the base of Mesa Point, there is quite an assortment of figures.Mesa Point’s own newspaper.Looks like Gingerbread Man, with a robot t-shirt!
Here are scenes along Cliff Base Trail
Pupal scorpion?“Greetings, future ones” ?Fearsome mask?One last newspaper clipping
I took a breather, to put gas in Sportage and fuel in my tank-at Which Wich, an innovative shop that uses a combination of technology and “check-off” paper bags, which the diner fills out and the attendant uses, in making the customized sandwich.
Last, but not least, was Piedras Marcadas Canyon, which co-exists with several housing developments, yet seems a world away, once one is on the trail. There are two options here: Petroglyph View Trail, which goes directly to the scenes, and North Rim Trail, which goes to the top of the mesa-sans petroglyphs. I took the former route.
“Bob” couldn’t help himself. I’ve felt that way, but never given in to the carving impulse.Here is a more “conventional” astrophysical image.Finally, a “family” portrait.
There are many more scenes, which will be on my Flickr site, but you get the message(s).
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.
My little family on the move, Cedar Ridge PreserveOne of four stream crossings along the trailAram and Yunhee headed upstairs.
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.
November 25, 2023, Grapevine- Today was a day for bringing my wardrobe more into line with my reduced girth-so to Grapevine Mills, it was, after hosting a sumptuous brunch for my little family, at Egg Farm Cafe. I acceded to Yunhee’s request that I take clothes shopping a bit more slowly-and try stuff on. Three pairs of better-fitting pants and a smaller belt later, we left the folks at Old Navy and Nautica a bit happier.
Every year seems to get its sea legs, with the beginning of terrestrial (as opposed to astronomical) Spring. This year was no exception. The weight reduction program picked up steam, from March through May. I was down to 174, and still keeping with the program.
Other transitions happened. We lost an extended family member on March 3. Marion Fusi’s life was one of passionate love and concern for those around her. Two old lions of the Dineh Nation, Peterson Zah and Jack Jackson,Sr., left to be with the Holy People,at about the same time. Baha’is Lee Panek, III, Lisa Janti, Helen Kiely, Nancy Jordan, Jack McCants and Brianna Mowzoon joined the ranks of the Supreme Concourse. An old Xanga friend, Michel Fauquet, turned off his keyboard, for the last time. A fixture in my childhood, Hazel Stocker, went to join her steadfast husband. Celebrities who affected my life, at one point or another also went to the ether: Harry Belafonte, George Maharis, Astrud Gilberto, Amitai Etzioni, Jim Brown and Tina Turner.
A New Mexico jaunt, in mid-March, started at the home of old Baha’i friends, in Tonalea, AZ, at the foot of Black Mesa, a worthy destination in itself. The historical site of Aztec Ruins, in northwest New Mexico, followed, with an edifying walk in the rain. Then came a brief Santa Fe overnight, with calls on friends at Henry & The Fish and the Pantry Restaurant.
My Red Cross service was both local-in flooded Camp Verde, and further afield, in equally flooded Watsonville, CA. Taking a leadership role, especially at the latter site, was new, but I held my own. My team respected me, and immediate supervisors were approving of what we did.
California would see me again, in May, as a train took me from Flagstaff to Los Angeles, and between other trains and charter buses, the route continued through the Central Valley-with enjoyable stays at a hostel in Sacramento, on either end of a trip over to Reno and Carson City. Between those two cities, a RAV4 proved a delightful mode of transport. Being with Michele and the kids is always a pleasure. There was a loss of keepsake, on the way back-somehow, at either Bakersfield or Los Angeles, my jacket was taken from the luggage well and with it, the locket that contained a fading photo of Penny and Aram, when he was a baby-along with Penny and her mother, when Penny was a baby. Life went on.
The year was indeed coming to fruition and I was prepared for the camps at Bellemont-even putting in a day of solo service, raking a fair amount of pine needles, before having to head back to Prescott. There would also be a northbound trip, through the Central Valley, and beyond. Next up: June-August.
November 24, 2023, Grapevine- Turkey Day leftovers made for a nice lunch, as they tend to do on “Black Friday”, and for days afterward. The day is crisp and clear, and many are headed to shopping malls/centers for Deals on Wheels-and on just about everything else. Son and I are not among them. He is taking a short break from the academic grind, and I am just taking a break, in general.
The Universe has not taken a break, of course. I learned, to my sadness, that an extended family member lost her spouse, a few weeks ago. They were a tightly-bonded couple, yet thankfully the family branch from which she comes is equally tightly-bonded, and will help her take one day at a time. Having been in similar shoes, a dozen years ago, I will keep them both in my heart.
The Force gives, as well as takes- 24 people who were kidnapped on October 7 have been released by their captors, in a prisoner exchange. Those freed by Hamas will go back to their homes and families, for a bittersweet Passover. Those freed by Israel will go home to their families, and face more uncertainty, at the conflict may well continue.
As is my wont, it is that time of year to look back at the past twelve months. This time, let us consider them, a quarter at a time. December, ’22-February, ’23- saw several leave our midst: Three stalwart Legionnaires, Gene Smylie (whose wife had passed a few weeks prior), Corky Hintz and Dwight Peters each had an outsized influence on the affairs of Post 6. Theirs will not be easy shoes to fill, but it looks like people are stepping up nicely. An old Baha’i mentor and friend, Bob Riggs, went to join his wife, in the spirit world. Celebrities, who influenced me in oblique ways, also left: Christine McVie, Barbara Walters, Jeff Beck, David Crosby, Raquel Welch, Gina Lollobrigida.
December-February provided many substitute opportunities, some of them for multiple days. Anything I can do to help children thrive is worth waking in the dark. Community service slots, at Solid Rock’s Monday night dinners, helping break down the Saturday Farmers Market, serving as co-host for Saturday morning Zoom calls and whatever the Red Cross needed, filled several days. Hikes and meals with friend Akuura also kept me physically on an even keel.
What made the biggest difference though, was going into an intensive weight reduction program-with heavy duty exercise, a strict meal plan and more resolve-courtesy of Ben Filer and True North Nutrition. As of February 28, I was well under 200 lbs. Dental health remained good, as did the skin scene.
Journeys always take their places in my world- a three-day California visit, in December, reconnected me with Ocean Beach and I found my spot there: Samesun Hostel. I also accomplished a hike down to Trestles Beach, San Clemente. House of Trestles was nearly deserted, but Harpoon Henry’s, in Dana Point, was delightful as ever.
February took me to southern Arizona, for a few days. Return visits to Boyce Thompson Arboretum and to Bisbee were coupled with introductions to Biosphere II, San Pedro House, the town of Patagonia and Nogales’ Pimeria Alta Museum.
November 23, 2023, Grapevine- The plates were full, the food well-crafted and the three of us, enjoyed every part of this meal-on what, at least to me, is the auspicious 23rd day of the 11th month, in the 23rd year of the 21st Century, AD/CE. Where there is love, there is good food and an attitude of gratitude.
My gratitudes, this year, are many: The program at True North Nutrition, which started me on the systematic loss of forty-seven pounds, between February and November; the growth in my circle of friends-in Prescott, across the continent and in the Philippines, where I connected with a sponsored youth and his mother, chatted up a beleaguered farmer, about whose cause I will be updating quite often, in the months ahead and the Baha’is of the Manila Metro area, three of whom in particular made my stay memorable, through their constant accompaniment; the continued good health of my immediate and extended family; my opportunities for service in the Prescott area-and through the Red Cross, in Watsonville, CA, in the aftermath of a disastrous flood situation, last Spring; the children who let me help them, in their long-term striving to grow and develop their strengths.
As always happens, after the meal, we took to a short, but brisk, trail. Oak Grove Park lies across Grapevine Lake from Rockledge, which we visited last year. There are probably 5-6 miles of short trails, but the three of us stuck to the paved lengths this time. Here are a few scenes of the area.
Near dock, Oak Grove Park, GrapevineWest end of Grapevine Lake, at Oak Grove ParkA boat house, through the treesSmall quartz quarry, Oak Grove Park
This is another of my gratitudes, for the variety of nature that is ever accessible to share. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
November 10, 2023- An old friend, who I hadn’t seen for a while, regarded me with some concern: She remembered me as a chunky, 186-pounder. I am now 30 lbs lighter, which I fear may have triggered memories of her late husband, in his last stages of life-and the anniversary of his departure is two weeks after Thanksgiving. My weight reduction, which has about six more pounds to shed, is intentional, and the recent bout with the flu aside, there is no medical evidence of any carcinogenic or pathological roots to the ongoing loss. I am just eating carefully and getting sufficient exercise and rest.
Still and all, my friend’s sensitivity, and the memory of her dear husband, need to be honoured. I will be stopping by her establishment a fair number of times, over the next several months-especially in December-mainly to listen. Tonight, the place was very busy, and our conversation was brief.
She had a question or two about my Philippine visit-her main interest being the young man I have been sponsoring-and the pair of basketball shoes that he was able to select for himself. She is not one who thinks much of travel for its own sake-a good many self-employed people have the same take, for obvious reasons. Making friends and building networks, which are also my own on-the-road focus, make sense to her.
Earlier today, Hiking Buddy and I took in Willow Lake, a smaller reservoir to the northwest of Watson Lake. It is separated from its larger mate, by the Granite Dells-whose western edge is also called Willow Dells. We focused on the west and south sides of the lake shore. HB’s interest in my trip was mainly in the places I visited with friends, the quality of my photos and what, if any, was the effect on my health. (Truth be known, it was coming back to an unheated house that led to last Friday’s flu crash. I am just glad it didn’t hit the contagious phase until well after my Red Cross activity on Friday morning, and that I had until Tuesday to recover).
Cottonwoods and bog grass, in autumn transition.Great Blue Heron, in repose.
Between this hike and my visit to the small cafe, there was the small matter of a haircut. So, back to Fantastic Sam’s it was, and in a half-hour or so, I no longer looked like a charging barbarian. My new stylist had questions of her own about Manila. She has a great yearning to get out and see things-and is mostly wanting to learn from other cultures. I pointed out that most people have no issue with Americans, as individuals. It is always wise to be aware of one’s surroundings and to maintain boundaries-but that it true right here, also.
In looking back on the three ladies’ perspectives, I am reminded of the old fable about the five men and the elephant. Everyone, whether blind or sighted, has interests that differ from others. This was underscored by my filling out a profile, this morning, for Next Door.com Interest groups abound, under that umbrella group-so it will be a fascinating exercise in networking.
October 23, 2023, Manila- My hat came off, as soon as I came upon the jarring scene: A sculpted depiction of the execution of a nation’s hero.
As my hosts looked over at the edge of the park named in honour of the Philippines’ national hero, they somehow did not recognize the boundary with Intramuros and hailed a taxi to take us around to the west side of the park. I have made it my business not be the leader of the band, but in matters of scant consequence, to follow along.
Few matters are as consequential, however, as the attempt to silence those who love their country, their land, their fellow citizens. Jose A. Rizal, a polymath and patriot, gave his very life for the independence of the Philippine nation. He was accused-of treason to Spain, tried, found guilty, and executed, under duress, by a firing squad-of his countrymen, on December 30, 1896. Two years later, Spain lost possession of the Philippines to the United States. The American leadership, under Admiral George Dewey, assented to the proper burial of Dr. Rizal and his family was able to obtain closure.
The Philippine nation got its closure, fifty years later, when July 4, 1946 saw the birth of a unified and free archipelago. All this is commemorated, and the outcome celebrated, at Rizal Park. The sacrifice of Dr. Rizal, and countless members of his associates-both and after his killing, have brought about the ongoing emergence of a fine nation, which is the best anyone can say about any collective society of human beings.
Here are scenes of Rizal Park.
West entrance to Rizal Park, once known as Luneta. Memorial to Dr. Jose A. RizalFacts in the matter of Dr. Rizal’s executionDepiction of the execution of Dr. RizalThe Chinese and Japanese residents of Manila each have built a garden, in their traditional styles. Here is the gateway to the Chinese Garden.Central platform of Chinese GardenSerenity in the Chinese Garden
The light was getting too low, by the time we came to the Japanese Garden. It made a visit impractical. That was not so, with regard to the Dancing Waters, the celebratory element of Rizal Park. For them, darkness only made things better.
Dancing Waters, sans luminee.The show begins!Joy rises, along with expectations.All the players have taken the field!
This bustling day was a fine introduction to Manila proper and to the hearts of my three hosts. Most of all, it gave me an opportunity to honour Dr. Rizal. Long may his spirit guide the Filipino people forward!
A Sagittarian Seeker 