November 30,2023- Ernest A. Love, a decorated Army pilot, who died in the line of duty, during the final months of World War I, is honoured in his hometown of Prescott with his name being given to our regional airport and to the local American Legion Post. He was further honoured tonight, on the occasion of his birthday-128, and counting. A squad of ROTC cadets from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University posted the colours, and the youngest of these, an 18-year-old woman, stood proudly, next to our oldest veteran Post member, who is nearly 88, and the youngest veteran Post member, a wet-behind-the-ears 48.
Each of these people has a compelling story, and each is a complex human being-just like everyone else. The difference is, each of them has done something with her/his life and has either a lifetime of giving back to the community, or is embarking on such a life. Not everyone else is so inclined, which is a shame, in a way. We all have gifts that can help bring light to the world, rather than the darkness that some see fit to cast into it.
I am truthful, in saying that I love so many in the world, even at different levels and displayed through different means. When that was not so apparent, it was largely because my self-love was lacking, and thus, I didn’t know how to communicate how I really felt. I have learned from several of those closest to me, how to grow my self-love, and therefore, how to more clearly honour the fullness and complexity of each person I meet. In turn, I can’t be all things to all people, and that may ruffle a few feathers.
May they learn to smooth those feathers and find a way to obtain what I can’t give them, whether it is a romantic relationship or taking a call at midnight. There are, conversely, things they cannot give to others. I am drawn to someone, far from here, and if she is drawn to me, then so much the better. If not, then I will honour her complexity, and full humanity, and carry on.
That, my friends, is how peace can happen, human to human-even when it’s hard to do.
November 27. 2023, Grapevine- The dream was all too vivid, and all-too ridiculous: I was at a seminar for teachers, wearing white chinos, of all things, and spilled salsa from the provided breakfast burrito. I went to clean my pants, and for some reason, grabbed a push broom to carry with me (never did figure that part out). Walking to find a restroom, I happened by an African English-language academy, and an old-style trattoria, where there were many people gathered, and as I wandered aimlessly back and forth, looking for a restroom, a teenaged girl told me my meandering was getting tiresome. A staffer came out of a back room and started randomly filling recessed open concrete hollows, with rose petals. I began to think the girl was right and I was being a tiresome distraction. Then, I woke up and realized that none of this was happening, nor did it have to.
My reality was that of a slightly chilly, but sun-filled day. I spent the day on a small service project, to be continued on free moments Wednesday, to hopefully generate a just conclusion to a long-standing matter, for a Filipino family. Otherwise, it was a quiet day of relaxation, with Aram focusing on his remaining school projects and Yunhee back at work.
The final three months of my being 72 were no less fulfilling than the other nine. I began September with a drive across southern Colorado, then three days at Eastern Colorado Baha’i Summer School,which as last year was largely a family affair-and I was a bit more included this time. Once the school had adjourned, I made my way east, as detailed in earlier posts. Mom’s 95th birthday, and the arrival of grandniece Adeline Bryan, were the milestone events. Paying respects to a fallen police officer, in Minnesota, and a beloved cousin, in Pennsylvania, were also high points.
October saw my first visit to the Philippines, via San Diego, San Francisco and T’aipei. Getting to meet a sponsored teen, and helping him get a wardrobe item he very much needed, was a wondrous start to this visit. Being guided and watched over by three fellow Baha’is, whilst in Manila, was a magnificent follow-up. Respects were paid to two of the great figures of Filipino history: Dr. Jose Rizal, regarded as the country’s national hero, and Lapulapu- who ranks similar to Cochise or Black Elk, in terms of standing up for the rights of First Nations people. I made more friends for the rest of my life, which is the main purpose of going anywhere.
November has seen a productive month at Home Base, and a salubrious week at HB2. Red Cross work was intense, but compressed into one 12-hour day. School assignments were uniformly pleasant. The flu came and went-courtesy of a crowded reception area at LAX. I had one of the finest meals of my life, at 1845 Taste of Texas.
Adi’s birth was a happy milestone. Transitions in the other direction saw the departures of an old high school friend and a cousin-in-law. Steve Finnegan and Caleb Jayne were both humble tradesmen, but neither man was anybody’s fool. Both will be long-missed. Jimmy Buffett, Terry Kirkman, David McCallum and Suzanne Somers all entertained us and engaged our social awareness, as the best of their caliber do. Rosalynn Carter and Ady Barkan raised the bar for true public service.
Now comes another early morning commemoration of the Ascension of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, and with it my re-set, to the age of 73-as of 1:30 p.m. EST, officially. It has been lovely, being 72.
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 20, 2023, Grapevine- As I started to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich, around Noon, son intervened. It means a lot to him to be a good host, so he took over the making of lunch. My true vacation, time with no service or work responsibility, has begun.
Yes, most often, when I leave Home Base, there are elements of the greater good involved. This time, I will just focus on being a good family member, with no Zoom calls or other activities-emergencies aside. Yet, being a good family member is the greatest good, as I think about it.
Up early this morning-2 a.m. early, I found smooth sailing and was off to the shuttle by 3:05. The ride to Phoenix was not crowded, and after a pleasant conversation with one of the other passengers, we arrived at 5:10. From there, TSA was a breeze and our flight to Dallas-Fort Worth arrived ten minutes early. Aram was at the airport shortly thereafter. I accompanied him to an appointment, then got to enjoy the grilled cheese lunch and sprawl out for a snooze.
This evening, after a light dinner, the three of us took in Grapevine’s charming Christmas Festival-with plenty of lights and a modest fireworks display. There was even Fair-type street food, so we each tried a deep-fried Oreo. Not as bad as I thought it might be, and we walked enough to keep the pounds from sticking.
Here are some scenes from the Festival.
Holiday Lights, at Grapevine Recreation CenterSculptures in the Peace Circle, Grapevine Main StreetSam Houston, offering peace to First Nations of Texas.View of the Peace Circle sculpturesAll around the Clock Tower (Above and below)Some fireworks scenes (Above and below)The Glass ReindeerMore lights in Grapevine’s Main Square (Above and below)
As in Manila’s Rizal Park, and back in Prescott-at Courthouse Square, there is nothing like bright lights to raise spirits and the people’s mood. Sometimes, just a little encouragement is all the incentive people need to make a commitment to the betterment of their lives.
November 9, 2023- The young man was unwilling to put all his eggs in one basket, as it were-and so, despite there being three other candidates ahead of him, he filled out and submitted an application for West Point Military Academy, in 1945. A year later, the three candidates ahead of him had fallen away, and the future Apollo astronaut entered the Academy. He graduated 8th, in a class of 670, in 1950.
The crackerjack test pilot had what Tom Wolfe would call “the right stuff”, in spades, and so qualified for training as an astronaut-first in the Project Gemini tandem Earth orbit activities, then as pilot of the Apollo 8 circumambulation of the Moon, in December, 1968. Later, as NASA White House liaison, he watched the landing of Apollo 11, on the lunar surface, and Neil Armstrong’s famous steps and speech, from the West Wing.
The sharp-eyed airline executive had built his company’s fortunes and took a leap of faith, purchasing new planes and equipment, keeping Eastern Airlines in the forefront of what was then state-of-the-art technology. He did not shy from the trade-offs, and trimmed costs at the expense of salaries and wages. Deregulation of the industry was not something he foresaw, though, and the perfect storm of decline in profits and uptick in costs, including debt management, led him to resign as CEO, in 1986.
Through it all, Frank Frederick Borman was a doer. He kept on with building his own vehicles, from the engine to the exhaust pipe; selling cars in Las Cruces, then running cattle in Montana. He was a faithful husband to his wife, Susan, for 71 years. He was a good father to two sons. He was a hard-nosed Chief Executive Officer, who did not dodge the tough questions, though it cost his employees, especially the women, mightily when he faced the fire.
Colonel Borman lived to the age of 95, passing on, two days ago, near his beloved ranch. His life, replete with success yet riddled with errors in judgment, was nonetheless in many ways worthy of admiration.
October 30, 2023, Manila- The unmistakably fierce eyes and scowl look straight ahead, at opposite ends of the grassy mall, in Rizal Park. The Philippines’ first national hero, long before there was a Philippines, and the man credited with ending Ferdinand Magellan’s circumnavigation of the globe, has been granted a Janus-like status at the country’s premier greenspace.
Lapulapu was an immigrant, from what is now Sabah, the northeastern state of Malaysia. He arrived on Mactan, a small island off the coast of the central Philippine island of Cebu, in the early 1500s and was given land by the Datu (Chief) of Cebu, as he expressed a desire to live as a peaceful farmer. Lapulapu’s leadership skills soon made him a Datu in his own right. Con trolling Mactan, which is at the head of the Cebu Strait, actually made him more powerful than the Datu of Cebu, whose name was Humabon.
As the Spanish and Portuguese pursued colonization of the vast Malay region, seeking to wrest control of the spice trade, from China, and from other European forces, the Spanish gravitated towards the northeastern islands of the archipelago, naming them in honour of King Philip II, of Spain, upon the completion of their conquest. The Spaniards managed to temporarily obtain the fealty of Datu (also called Rajah) Humabon, and one of his vassals, known as Zula. In conducting their politics, however, the Spanish took a Euro-centric view of Malay society, and regraded Humabon as an overlord, or king, of the Cebu region. In reality, the area was governed as a loose council of city-states, with Humabon and Lapulapu essentially being equals. Magellan’s appeal, upon his arrival in 1521, was to Lapulapu to “follow the example of his King” and submit to Spanish rule. The Datu of Mactan refused, and became enraged when Magellan’s men set fire to houses in Mactan’s main village. In an ensuing battle, Magellan and his men were killed.
Lapulapu has thus become a symbol of the Filipinos’ spirit of independence and resistance to foreign rule. This spirit never died, through nearly four centuries of Spanish rule and a half-century of occupation by the United States and Japan. It has helped propel the islands forward, into a growing economic force and a nation that is finding its footing.
Along with my host, Norlie, I stood in respect at Lapulapu’s bust, ironically after having walked through Rizal Park’s Japanese Garden. Here is that likeness of the great Datu, and some scenes from our Barangay Election Day outing. (More on Barangays, in the next post.)
Datu Lapulapu, looking eastand west, (along with a modern proud Filipina).Rizal Park’s rapprochement with Japan.Sacred stone arrangementBonsaiSmall koi fryStanding “guard” on the bridge.One of the last massacres of Filipinos, under Spanish rule-the 13 Martyrs of Bagumbayan.Gate of Entry and Departure
This last is an apt description, as my time here in Manila gets short. It’s been, though, a continuation of all the love that I have felt, these past many years-and all the more so as my own act has gotten together more cogently. My hope is that blessings shower upon all those who have offered that love.
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!
October 23, 2023, Manila- The four of us arrived in “Old Manila”, by taxi, and by vote of 3-0, with this one abstaining, out of being totally at a loss, we headed to Manila Cathedral. En route, we were stopped, briefly, by an elderly beggar, who ended up going on to a group of men, who gave him two boiled eggs. That is something I will always gladly do, if I have food to share. Money? Nah.
Manila Cathedral has been visited by several Popes, most recently Francis I. We found it sparsely occupied, and in need of some repairs, but worth visiting, nonetheless, because of its historical value.
The Manila Cathedral, from the east.History of Manila Cathedral, officially the Cathedral of the Immaculate ConceptionFriezes of the Passion of Jesus the Christ, fronted by a sculpture of Mother MaryInterior of Manila Cathedral
Chinese merchants were allowed into Intramuros, during daylight hours. Spanish law required them to leave at sunset. One merchant left this inscription, just outside the gated heart of Intramuros.
Partial inscription at north door to IntramurosThe guided tour to the interior rooms of Intramuros is not offered on Mondays. The scene above does show the substance of this magnificent complex.Wrought iron gate, to inner garden of Intramuros.Peak inside a “closed” room of IntramurosInner garden of IntramurosFunction room at White Knight Hotel, IntramurosHallway of White Knight HotelFern and orchid garden, IntramurosMy three kind guides, and the moss-covered wellThe rainbow-stone interior of the well at IntramurosSilver Grand Mirror, outside Barbara’s Heritage Restaurant, IntramurosAfter innumerable selfies of my friends, we continued to San Agustin Church. Here is the patron of the church.Interior of San Agustin Church, IntramurosSanctuary and lectern, San Agustin ChurchHere are some views of the wall itself (above and following)Atop the wall around Old ManilaThe long rampartOutside the wallSet cannons, in wall portalsThe full tableau of Spanish defenses, atop the wall.
Once we left the wall’s ramparts, it was time to pay respects to the Philippine national hero.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 