February 6, 2020-
What is it, when we watch and listen,
seeing and hearing only what confirms
the sights and sounds of our own private silo?
What is it, when a child cries out for help,
and those around just say,
“That’s the way it’s always been, here”.
What is it, when one follows the path of least resistance,
with a self-directed message,
that comfort has been earned.
Is it living to fight another day?
Is it being prudent?
Is it emotional triage?
Or, is it slumber?
February 4, 2020-
As is my wont, I watched the State of the Union Address, and part of the “opposition response”. I paid close attention to what was said, to the enthusiasm of the speakers’ supporters and to the reactions of the speakers’ critics.
President Trump’s speech was fairly good on specifics, with regard to what he considers his administration’s accomplishments and bullish on what he sees ahead-should he be re-elected. There were fine moments: Carl and Marsha Mueller, from Prescott, honoured in the sacrifice of their daughter to the IS mayhem; Rush Limbaugh, with whom I often disagree, but who has been generous to the people of the Midwest and who is now in the fight of his life, against cancer, receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom; the mother and children from North Carolina, re-united with their soldier husband and father; the young man from here in Arizona, honoured for his interest in space exploration, alongside his great grandfather, a Tuskegee Airman, who himself was promoted to Brigadier General, earlier in the day. General McGee is 100 years of age.
There was also the hubris, which has been associated with this President, but has also been expressed by several of his predecessors, in their own detailing of accomplishments. In the end, though, Donald Trump shared a thought with which few can realistically argue: “America’s best days are yet to come.” In truth, mankind’s best days are yet to come.
Both speakers, (Governor Whitmer, of Michigan, being the respondent), appealed to our sense of history and to a semblance of decency. Both expressed pride and confidence in the ability of our nation’s youth. Both faced rudeness from opponents, and ebullience from supporters. More’s the pity.
Our best days are yet to come. This will happen, when we stop seeing our leaders as mere extensions of ourselves; indeed, when we stop seeing other people as mere extensions of ourselves, in terms of what we think they should think, say and do. When the dreams of each person become worthy of consideration, when they are validated in their goodness, when they are challenged and lovingly corrected in their elements of error or destructiveness, then will Humanity realize its true greatness. When we truly learn to listen to each other, to link arms and celebrate one another’s humanity, then will our nation, and our planet, begin to truly shine.
Our best days are yet to come.
February 3, 2020-
The young girl had less willpower than she had thought. Faced with a sumptuous, fully-laden buffet, she took two grapes for herself. This awakened the buffet’s master, who killed two of the young girl’s faerie guides and nearly captured her. In turn, the faeries’ master, a faun, angrily banished the young girl from his enchanted cave. I got the initial impression, whilst watching Pan’s Labyrinth, last night, that the faun was no more enamoured of the child-or of children in general, than was the girl’s step father, a severe and arrogant captain in Francisco Franco’s Army.
It was 1944, and while the Fascists had largely brought Spain under their control, there were pockets of active partisan resistance. There was little tolerance for romantic notions or for childhood fancies. The girl was tolerated by both of the principal male figures, as mentioned above, and her mother, the captain’s new wife, was merely a means to an end for her husband, who wanted a male heir above all else.
I thought of just how much progress has been made, with regard to gender relations, since that time. Like any other area of life, the most progress towards equanimity has been made since the mid-1970’s, when women stopped gratuitously accepting acts of chivalry. The truer, deeper courtesy that came out of the Women’s Rights movement of 1970-76 has only served to help men become more authentic gentlemen, rather than simply aping the courtesies of the past. Honouring a woman’s dignity meant that she could open her own doors-and even open a door for a man.
The little girl, Ofelia, was as skillful as she was willful, managing to fool a monstrous frog, who had stolen a key belonging to the faun. She also got a dagger from a cabinet in the buffet master’s chamber, and procured mandrake root, which she nourished in order for her pregnant, ailing mother to recover. She never appeared to wallow in self-pity.
The captain and his men made a mess of things, leading to his wife’s death and, eventually, to their own slaughter. This, by dint of their stubborn adherence to Franco’s doctrine of “cleansing Spain”. The faun, also doctrinaire, inadvertently caused Ofelia to be caught by the captain, through his insistence that she let her infant brother be bled.
Everyone serves the Creator, directly or indirectly. As it happened, Ofelia’s refusal to shed her innocent brother’s blood, preferring to sacrifice herself instead, met with approval from her Eternal Father, who welcomed her into Paradise, with a throne of her own, to his left. The chastened faun recognized her goodness in the end, and bowed in service.
The calamities set in motion by the pure child, eating two grapes, leave lots of room for thought: Who is more at fault, a child taking a small bit of food from another being, or the chastiser, full of his own importance?
January 31, 2020-
While covering a class yesterday, I showed the film, “Avatar”. The point was made that, in the far future, a certain segment of Earth’s populace was bent on colonizing a planet similar to our own. It involved a colonialist mentality, based on perceived economic benefit.
I read a report, yesterday, about an American woman, missing in the Central American country of Belize. The report said she was last seen on a beach, late at night. Several commentators cast aspersions on the safety conditions in that country, as well as those in the Dominican Republic. The comments included the opinion that Americans are routinely seen as projecting a “rich and entitled” persona, by residents of those countries.
I have never been to either nation. I have been to the South American nation of Guyana, where similar charges were leveled against the local populace. I was there, with Penny, for three weeks. We walked about with humility, and did not find ourselves being menaced or accosted by anyone. We had escorts and host families, the entire time we were there. That was 1984, and yet I am certain that similar precautions would bear similar results now.
I have been a number of places, since that year. I can say that I made some boneheaded judgments, when in Europe, in 2014, but none based on hubris or egoism. I learned what not to do again. It is simply best to walk in humility and fair-mindedness, albeit while maintaining a smart sense of safety. I have plans that will take me far afield, over the next five years-and I don’t rule out any given country. Most will involve making suitable security arrangements beforehand, in any case-but not because I am “rich and entitled”. There will be many conversations on the subject, I’m certain-just as I spoke with a few disaffected people in Guyana, 36 years ago, and in Paris, six years ago.
This is perhaps as big a reason for my reaching out, as any.
January 27, 2020-
The fog that can roll in, off any given coastline, shoreline or river bank, as air temperature changes, can render even the best of navigators helpless. There have been several times, over the years, when I have arrived safely at a destination only because the car was in good shape and there were no impediments, other than the lack of visibility.
I leave it to the experts, to figure out what went horribly wrong, yesterday, when nine people, including former National Basketball Association player, Kobe Bryant and his 13-year-old daughter, were killed in a helicopter crash, near Calabasas, CA, outside Los Angeles. Of course, conspiracy theories have already surfaced, but no matter. The bottom line is, a highly-talented and accomplished basketball player and teacher who, like the rest of us, had his flaws, is dead.
His legacy: Both good-the Mamba Basketball Academy, philanthropy for women’s sports-especially for basketball, and a graceful reconciliation with his beautiful and intelligent wife; and bad- at least one badgered and dishonoured victim of a serious misstep, 17 years ago, is all too common among those who have either worked diligently (as Kobe Bryant certainly did) or have inherited good fortune, in reaching the upper echelons of society. “Rank has its privileges” has been, thankfully, countered by the #MeToo movement. Let’s leave that aspect of Mr. Bryant’s life, for a later date. To the degree we come back to it all, it should only be for whatever healing society is willing to afford the savaged victim, especially as he was not the only one who hurt her. Victim blamers have their own burden of guilt.
The improvement, in the conduct of professional basketball, had much to do with Kobe Bryant’s example, on the court-and, in his later years, off court as well. His “Mamba” ethic, relentless in pursuit of a goal, in a sport at which he excelled, has proven to be well-emulated He saw competitors as comrades- a fact well-borne out by the torrent of tribute, all quite heart-felt, from NBA players, past and present. He saw his duty, as a citizen and social icon, as far outweighing any hubris and egoism that may have gotten in his way. Thus, he made raising strong daughters his mission. Thus, he maintained a wide variety of friendships, across social strata. Thus, his last public act was congratulating the man who surpassed him in total league scoring: LeBron James.
We are, each of us, such works in progress. I only wish for that progress to continue in the spirit world, for Kobe Bryant, and for all who made great work of their physical lives, even if they stumbled, and fell hard. Rest in Peace, Mamba.
January 25, 2020-
The comment was unmistakable- I had crossed a line of political correctness, by stating that my colleagues at the school where I worked, the past two weeks, were going to wipe the school’s laptops clean, with a view towards safety. This struck the commenter as borderline illegal. Such is not the case: Those computers are the property of the school district, and by extension, the State of Arizona. No one advocates state control of personal computers. It is the duty of educators to safeguard students from identity thieves and predators-period.
This has been the mood today- both online and here in town-sour, formal and hypercritical. I was raised to walk through such environments and look to a brighter day. So, here I am, having focused on positive aspects of life.
While it’s true that I am not returning to Peach Springs, next week, that does not mean, as some seem to think, that I dropped the ball, yet again. My view is always to look for the most competent instructor for a group of children, and she will take the reins on Monday.
While it’s true that I spent two weeks helping that school, it doesn’t mean, as others have suggested, that I ignored the needs of Yavapai County, just to bring in more money. If that were true, I would not have come back here, signed on for more hours and added more schools in the county to my availability list.
While it’s true that I reserve the right to block people who make derogatory remarks about my late wife, and family, on social media, it does not-as one person is telling anyone who will listen, that I care nothing for the welfare of the mentally ill. It is simply a matter of common decency-and pandering to a person’s baser instincts is doing nothing to help improve their state of being.
So, I hope people in Prescott and vicinity, and readers of this blog, feel better as the days in the northern hemisphere get longer, and as conditions in Australia and elsewhere improve. May we not grate on one another, or give in to sour moods.
January 24, 2020-
Every community has its pain. I saw lots in Peach Springs, just as I did so many years ago, in various communities of the Navajo (Dineh) and Hopi Nations-and I know the pain continues, even though life is better, in some parts of the old Home Base. So, too, there was, and is, pain in Phoenix, in La Paz County and here in Prescott. I heard of suffering in Seligman, which is en route to any point northwest of here, yesterday, when I stopped for an early dinner.
People have their concerns, their agonies and their setbacks. What makes the difference in much of this, is the extent to which the suffering souls lay their woes at the feet of others. I’ve done some of that, and have thankfully learned to put that mindset behind me. Whine and cheese are not the stuff of social progress.
I have said a bit about what I’d like to see in Peach Springs, though my own skill sets may not do much, immediately, to help that community, on the ground. Prescott does have a few programs in place, which can help those who are knocked down, in getting themselves upright. Essentially, though, it falls to each person to determine his/her own course of action. The Blame Game may be mildly salving, for a day or so, then the confusion sets in, as one sees no progress.
When I last found myself really foundering, I had to set concrete steps for my own recovery. They involved a mix of travel, social media-journaling, exercise, photography and involvement in the community that I chose as Home Base. That mix still suits me, and it will long continue.
My hopes for each community that matters in my heart is that strong and good-hearted people will take the lead and show their family, friends and neighbours the way forward. I want to be there when these communities arise.
January 23, 2020-
The small circle of staff members gathered on the lawn of Peach Springs School, after the students had left for the weekend. We did a postmortem on the day, and the short week. A decision was made, to gather student laptops, and wipe them clean of inappropriate websites. When the students do get to use the devices again, they will be free of the sites that only reinforce the baser instincts that hobble so many youth. There will be a more concerted effort to monitor these sites. This is something that is de rigeur to me, in over twenty-seven years of dealing with youth and technology. For others, not familiar with the technological prowess of youth, it is easy to lapse into a LaLa Land of denial. That denial could have proven deadly.
My time at Peach Springs ended, for now,with today’s lessons. I am always welcome back there, but leave knowing that the person taking over the second grade class knows them well, and has a good command of elementary education. My work there, for the time being, is done. I will maintain contact with the staff and students with whom I have bonded, much as contact with lifelong friends elsewhere has been maintained. Much more will be said, over the coming months, about underachieving communities. The bottom line for Peach Springs and places like it, is that the community must recognize that their only hope comes from realizing that they, the people, are just as worthy and capable as anyone in this nation, or on this planet. I will never stop encouraging others, whether up close or from a distance.
I have obligations, both here in Prescott, and by way of keeping vigilant, with a situation involving a dear friend of many years. The days and months ahead will not lack for activity, involvement in community life or efforts at building.
As for Peach Springs School, over the coming months, may the parents and community start to clear away the dust from their collective ennui, and rebuild what can be a powerful, achieving community. Then will the little circle of gold, that is the staff of that school, begin to be seen for who they are, and the children will be able to focus on what matters in their lives.
January 22, 2020, Peach Springs-
A talk with my son, last night, underscored the perception, even sometimes in my own mind, that my shelf life is getting limited. When the changes in the social wind blow ill, as they did yesterday, I look towards a place of refuge. Sometimes, it’s just as well that there is no refuge available, immediately. Sometimes, the only way out is through.
Things went far better today, with my class. I took the step of streamlining the rules, which had been overly drawn up by one of the previous teachers. I took the step of not tolerating foul language or harassment. I took the step of countering the inchoate misogyny that some of the boys have shown, already, in their very young lives.
We got quite a bit accomplished. It is not a traditional classroom. Many students don’t get to school until two hours after the opening bell. I am not here to judge them, or their families, for that. Everyone, eventually, makes it to school. Everyone does some work, and learns something. That is part of the reality in a rural community, where many live far afield, and no buses serve the area.
I am still not sure what will happen with me, after tomorrow. There is more of a bond with the people here-and there is a bond, and a need, with people back in Yavapai County. It will end up being one of those measured, eleventh-hour decisions, and I have a sense that the right thing will happen, by all concerned.
January 21, 2020, Peach Springs-
There is no mincing words about this: In the name of freedom of speech, three generations of adults are poisoning the well of our children’s spirits-particularly in impoverished communities. Nowhere is this more apparent, than in communities with a narrow economic base.
The phenomenon of children as young as seven, trading sexual epithets, the coarsest of profanity and actually mentioning pornographic websites, by name, is, to put it mildly, jarring to the spirit. That they actually understand what they are saying is even more disquieting.
This is a train of abuses, long in the running, and it is by no means limited to Native American communities. Sexual deviance was graphically described to me by a very young neighbour, in 2002, in a Phoenix apartment complex. As far back as June, 1980, when I lived in a Flagstaff apartment complex, a band that had been hired to play at a birthday party, in a place where children were out and about, loudly screamed profanity in the course of their “presentation”. It was viewed, by many of those present, as “harmless”; “only words”.
I am no prude, though I have long ago exiled the vernacular word for fornication to its proper place in the graveyard of misbegotten phrases. I note that even the late, great George Carlin, a champion of adults’ free speech, when among other adults, drew the line at cursing in the presence of children.
Language, though, is not the most harmful aspect of the ongoing tailspin. Sex education, still properly the purview of parents, is increasingly becoming the province of the skeevy. Applications like TikTok are being used by those who wish to prey upon young children. Other social media sites, not well-monitored by responsible adults, are offering curious and precociously feisty youngsters a diet of unseemly fare that is well beyond their level of true understanding. As one boy told me today, “it’s more exciting than what’s around here. ” This is what we face, as communities and as a wider society.
So, the concerns that we educational professionals once had, with regard to teenagers, are now applicable to kids in primary school. This is one of America’s wake-up calls.
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