Redemption

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March 2, 2024- I watched the film, Dune, Part 2, this evening. The plot is basically a “He who has the gold, rules” type of tale. Without giving away anything else, it is also a tale of several people who have various chances to choose redemption or condemnation. Each of us must make that choice, sometimes on a daily basis.

Three different types of people caught my attention today. The first, indicative of most people in my life circle, is a solid friend, who was just glad to see me, after two weeks. The second, drawn to me on occasion, is a self-absorbed soul, who sees self as a perpetual victim. (I have no resources to bail out a hand that is always outstretched, but that’s a whole other matter.) The third is an opportunist, who waited until I was off tending to a task, and grabbed a drink that I’d purchased and set down. Thankfully, this one is a fleeting presence in my life, and I know what not to do next time.

I have been the first two types, at one point or another in my seven decades and two years on this plane. I was effectively dissuaded, by my father, from being the third type, more than once. I stopped being the second type, mainly because it was isolating and self-defeating, as the present self-defeating people are finding out. It has been, and is, redemptive to be the first type. Those who love freely and pull their own weight tend to be happy, and self-fulfilled. We are not smug, and when difficulty strikes, we work through it. Those who have known me for a long time, or at least since the 2000s, know that the life I lead now has not always been the case.

I choose a path that is redemptive, not because other people dear to me demand it, but because it just feels better. The approval of family and friends is a bonus.

The Lion Roars Elsewhere

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March 1, 2024- The sweet older lady carried her box filled with Bell jars out of the small health food convenience market, as I held the door. A few minutes later, as I approached the register with my small purchase, she burst back through the door, still holding her box of jars. As I hung back from the register, the lady told the cashier about her morning. She had encountered a couple, in her gated community, who were going about the neighbourhood, visiting shut-ins and offering Holy Communion wafers to them. When she encountered the couple again, at a local fast food restaurant, she bought them lunch. That was a story worth waiting for!

The old saw states: “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” Lamb-like weather is here for a few days, whilst in the Panhandle region of north Texas and northwest Oklahoma, a furious spate of wildfires, tempered briefly by a wimpy snow squall, has sundered about five communities, leaving wreckage reminiscent of Paradise, CA and Lahaina, HI in their wake. Whether we look at this still extant destruction and blame climate change or over-development- or a mix of the two, the scenes are heartbreaking. No amount of blame can restore what has been lost. Only resolve, and united action, can bring about recovery.

The same is true, for entirely different reasons, as a lion of a different sort roars in Gaza. No matter one’s politics, or religious persuasion, the slaughter of innocents arising from the wanton disregard, by two armies, for human life cannot pass without condemnation. Both armies should stand down-and let both Jewish and Arab people find a common path to resilience. At this point, it doesn’t matter who started it. No community on Earth deserves to be destroyed by the rapacity of others.

This evening, I made my way down to Raven Cafe, for another great performance by local favourites, Scandalous Hands. There was no room to sit, initially, yet as luck would have it, a couple vacated their table, just as I was getting a cup of coffee from the self-service urn. I moved towards the table and spotted another couple who seemed to want to sit. We agreed to share the table, and it turned out they were first time visitors to Prescott. I would have gladly shared the table, anyway, but first impressions matter. They greatly enjoyed Scandalous’ music, and even got up to dance a few times. I gave them a few pointers for activities and music venues, over the next two days they are here, and some other information about the Southwest, as this is their first time in the region.

March is off to a benign start here, though it would only take an errant spark and a gust of wind, to turn the tables. My prayers and positive thoughts, for Texas, Oklahoma, Gaza and so many other places which don’t have the calmness, the serenity or even the festive mood that Prescott enjoys, as March begins.

Leaping Upward

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February 29, 2024- There were several kids who either said they wished I were around more often or greeted me with a solid dap handshake (fingers clasped, followed by a fist bump), making this Leap Day a fulfilling one. It was incomplete, as I stumbled on a bullying victim-whose case was made to the regular staff-so hopefully there will be some resolution.

The work of anyone who is involved in social justice is getting more intense and variegated, by the day. Someone mentioned, this evening, that she was trying to figure a way to make a better world, but without being drawn into the turmoil that seems to confuse humanity. I do not see any way that can happen. Turmoil will find us, and the principles that guide a decent soul’s life will help that person to offer solutions to the presently incomprehensible issues of environmental, physiological, social and spiritual degradation that hit us from all sides.

Those who hold on to memories of a simpler time seem to think that a strong, almost dictatorial, government, rooted in the evolved religious philosophy that was prevalent in the 1950s and early ’60s, will bring about a calming of the current apparent chaos.

Conversely, there are those who see a rigid, unyielding forced march towards unbridled acceptance of even the most deviant behaviour, victims be damned and a total casting off of logic and of even human biology itself, as an extension of the reasonable treatment of those who are victims of chemically-induced hormonal imbalance. The same people give off an air of rejecting anyone, past or present, who was, or is, not letter perfect.

Neither group will bring human society where it needs to go, because inherent in each of their arguments is a false elitism, rooted in fear of the “Other”. The lesson of every experience that I’ve had this week is that there is no solution, or even a viable trade-off, without involving all sides, in the discussion, and being, as Jesus the Christ said, “alert, to discern” the roots of a holistic peace. There is strength in some time-honoured practices and there is merit in changing the way we do other things. Only giving “the Other” a bona fide hearing, with both ears open and an engaged mind, can help in sifting the psycho-social wheat, from its chaff.

It is time for us to leap upward, together.

The Red Cross, Re-imagined

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February 26, 2024- After Hurricane Harvey, the Red Cross came under fire, from certain right-wing elements, for what was see as a lackluster response to the storm, in parts of coastal Texas. The criticism stung, certainly, especially for those of us who have done our level best, on the front lines of more than one widespread disaster. Leadership went back to the drawing board, nonetheless, and sifted through the accusations leveled at the organization. The focus was on doing better-much better. One thing was clear, though: The thinly-veiled expectation, that charitable organizations should just fold up their tents and let people struggle on their own, was not going to carry the day.

Those who had been operating as islands unto themselves listened with rapt attention, as a vision of the American Red Cross expanding its partnerships with local communities, local and state governments, faith communities and above all, other charitable organizations, was laid out, at a regional planning conference, this morning and afternoon. The various focus branches of the Red Cross will now be working more in concert with one another, something that those who help in several capacities have wanted to see for quite some time.

It’s long been known that organizations of any kind operate more efficiently when the various entities within talk to one another-and, more importantly, listen to each other’s ideas, regard the other’s problems as their own and develop an unshakable bond. Further, proactivity is vital to any person or organization that claims to offer solutions to the multiple problems arising, often in areas that have historically not seen much difficulty. Reactivity, playing whack-a-mole, has lost its efficacy; so, too, has denial.

The collective Red Cross mindset will focus on community mobilization; a strength-based, rather than need-based, approach; establishing itself in a community as a long-term presence, not “in and out”. Presence is seen as the mission. Transaction will be directed towards transformation. Training will be simplified, looking towards readiness and capacity-building, especially in the face of an increase in the number of disasters that leave billions of dollars in damages. The program will include language diversity, more volunteer town halls, regional stand-ups, bi-annual community briefings, and staff retreats. Public service announcements and billboarding will be more widespread, and no group will be left out of the loop.

These points appeal to me, as a member of the Baha’i Faith, because of that organization’s focus on inclusivity, proactivity and a responsibly progressive approach to facing social and environmental ills. I look forward to being an agent for bringing the two organizations, and many others, together, as a testament to the notion: “The true leader serves. Serves people”- Robert Habecker, “Servant Leadership”. The true servant works to unite.

On Not Going Gently

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February 25, 2024- The seat fairly screamed, in its emptiness. It has been occupied, at a weekly breakfast meeting, for nearly six years, by a true force of nature. It is unlikely that will continue to be the case. After a storied career in the military, age has caught up with the gentleman, and he must face the loss of his independence, at minimum. He may very well be going into that good night.

The Silent Generation, born in the midst of the Great Depression, and growing up in the harrowing uncertainty of World War II, has been anything but silent, seeing the changes in society-changes which must be as incomprehensible, to them, as the changes at the turn of the Twentieth Century were to the Gilded Age Generation. My friend regularly inveighed against both the emerging, often chaotic, claims of the Left and the efforts, to cling to power, of the wealthy on the Right. He wanted things to return to how they were, in the days of Eisenhower and Kennedy.

In his prime, and into his early eighties, he was a suave, sleek dancer. When the joints began to give way, and cardiopulmonary issues arose, he was dismayed, but kept doing what he could for himself- continuing to drive, attending weekly functions and winning at Bingo. Gradually, the help of steadfast friends kept him engaged in the activities that meant the most. Then the bottom began to fall out.

He will surely heed the plea of Dylan Thomas, and do his share of raging. In the end, like the great Bard’s father, he will have to close his fierce eyes and still his thundering voice. He will, at journey’s end, find himself in another realm of light. It may be tomorrow, or some time from now. I only pray that it will be gentle to him.

https://poets.org/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night

Rising Tides

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February 20, 2024, San Diego- The small group of European youths spoke of their concern for their countries, should certain political and military forces hold sway. I stayed out of the conversation, and an older man in the group urged them to not jump to conclusions. Nonetheless, a rising tide of personal ambition and disdain for the changes that society is undergoing is having a disconcerting effect on a good many, in the generations of young adults. There is a renewed commitment to freedom of choice and group cohesion, across the range of political opinion, among a good many in the two emerging generations of young adults. From what I’ve seen, the Alpha Generation, those born since 2010, is showing the same collaborative spirit.

There was another sort of rising tide, at Ocean Beach and at Mission Bay, throughout the day. The oceanic tide kept coming in, from early this morning, until about 4 p.m., with roiling waves propelled by the storm that dumped about an inch of rain on OB. Here are a few scenes of both morning and afternoon.

Ocean Beach Pier, at 9 a.m.
Ocean Beach, at 9 a.m.
Dog Beach, 3:30 p.m.
Dog Beach, at 3:40 p.m.
Egrets and ducks were unperturbed.

My energy tide was raised by a message, from someone I love dearly, as I woke up. It was capped by the news that my little family has successfully relocated to an apartment they like better, this evening. In between, I managed a two-mile walk, to Mission Bay and back to Rainbow House, cooked up some lobster ravioli and hosted a Zoom call, one of two meetings that punctuate this visit.

The rain has stopped and the oceanic tide, at least, has ebbed. It will be interesting to see how these other tides rise and fall.

Ten Beautiful Things (and People)

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February 18, 2024, Blythe- (Getting around “no internet” is always fun. I am posting this from a location other than my motel-Relax Inn.)

My favourite zoo animal, when I was a child, was the black panther. Stoneham Zoo and Franklin Park, in Boston, always had at least one melanated leopard. As it happens, Heritage Park zoo, in Prescott, has a melanated jaguar. This panther is named Notch. So, Notch ranks #10 on the list of beautiful things and people that come to mind, as I sit here in this desert town, on the Colorado River.

He is also the only one for whom I will present a photograph, in this post. The other nine have been posted previously, at one point or another.

#9 is the western sunset, which is almost given a run for its money, by the sunsets of the Midwest.

#8 is the Aurora Borealis, which I have seen only once-in Flagstaff, circa 1980.

#7 is the voice of Carrie Underwood, when she is fully engaged in a spiritual song.

#6 is the portrayal by Keala Settle, of the Bearded Woman, in “The Greatest Showman” (2017).

#5 is the snowscape, after a storm, on the South Rim of Grand Canyon.

#4 is a mother black bear, nestling her newborn cub-and viewed from a safe distance.

#3 is the look on the face of a little girl, when her family is relocated from a flimsy shack, to a tiny house, on the outskirts of Sacramento.

#2 is the smile on the face of a grizzled and cynical Right Wing political activist, when he is given a packet of Earth Breeze laundry sheets, by someone he knows to be a social justice activist, from the other side of the political spectrum.

#1 is the smile on the face of a very dear friend, when those she trusts include her in activities.

Everyone has their own ideas of what, or who, is beautiful. That is what keeps this world glued together.

Alarm Bells

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February 16, 2024- The three of us went in the front door,at the main Fire Station, in the small, sprawling community of Mohave Valley, east of Needles. We were there as part of the “Sound the Alarm” program, by which the Red Cross, acting in concert with local Fire Departments, first leaves flyers for an upcoming smoke detector installation, in a given neighbourhood, then returns, 1-8 days later, to install the detectors, where requested.

The event was scheduled after two recent house fires in the area. The first claimed the lives of a pregnant woman and her baby,as well as her in-laws. The second, in nearby Bullhead City, claimed the lives of five children. I walked by the ashes of the first house, this afternoon. Workers were clearing the debris, with the aid of a bulldozer. The eerie silence resonated, broken only by the barking of ubiquitous guard dogs, who seemed to be in every yard in the five-block area. I can only imagine the heartbreak of the surviving son, husband and father, going on alone.

Looking for the Chief and his Captain, we were informed that it was lunch time. So, we ourselves went off to Bonanza Cafe, where we found good quality diner fare, served with a smile. The smiles broadened, when we told the server why we were in town. A patron named Kevin, sitting nearby,paid for our lunch as he and his wife left the restaurant. . People tend to like those who take interest in their community.

Once back at the Station, we planned out our canvass of the five-block neighbourhood, a mix of new homes and mobile units. We focused on the mobiles, as building codes have mandated hard-wired smoke detectors, over the past ten years, or so. The task was made very light, actually, as we were joined in the canvass by an engine and an ambulance, which were thankfully not called away during the activity.

Thus did my brief “hiatus” from Red Cross volunteer service come to an end. It turned out that this interlude was brought on by an AI glitch, not by the fit of pique that I had noticed, at our last meeting. Microsoft marches to its own drummer, and doesn’t much care about who is getting along with whom. We three got along just fine today, and the software that interferes with our collaboration will be fixed soon.

After, the canvass, we were taken on a tour of the Fire Station, by Captain Tim. He explained that much of the new equipment we saw had been purchased with grant money. The Wildland Firefighting equipment came in handy, earlier this winter, when a blaze broke out in the rough country along the Colorado River. The hills above the nearby tourist town of Oatman are also constantly at risk. A Rehabilitation Vehicle is also on site, courtesy of a grant. This unit serves as a place for firefighters, particularly Wildland staff, to rest in shade, rehydrate and get snacks or solid food, during the exercise.

During his remarks, I thought of the southern Arizona community of Bisbee, which had experienced a major fire, yesterday, in its historic downtown. Bisbee’s water lines are 100 years old, which doesn’t help when an event like that happens. Two buildings were damaged, and the rest of Old Bisbee needs urgent attention, to ensure that the community doesn’t become another Lahaina. Captain Tim spoke of Maui, in stressing the importance of grants for fire fighting, in stressed communities. He also noted that networking, across several communities, has been a hallmark of firefighting, even before the concept became in vogue for society at large.

With all that in mind, we visited two families, one in Bullhead City and one in Kingman, so that our team lead could process their claims from recent house fires. The first was having a yard sale, getting rid of as much excess as possible. The second was at his extended family’s home, three blocks from the fire scene. In each case, Red Cross helps with small cash allowances for short term accommodations, meals and replacement of some personal items, such as clothing, while the victim(s) await insurance settlements.

It was a fourteen-hour day, from the time we left the Red Cross office, here in Prescott, until I was finally dropped off at Home Base I. No matter-it was a fine resumption of the service that gives me affirmation. The day had started with a message from my Beloved, and ended in the knowledge that there is far more love than hate or indifference, in communities large and small.

Three Times in Love

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February 14, 2024- I read, on the back of one of my baby pictures,of all that coursed through the young woman’s heart, as she gazed upon her first born child-yours truly.        Thirty years after that photo was taken, a winsome, effervescent young woman came up to me, and started talking about the event where were both in attendance.            Forty-three years after that night of rain and snow, a winsome, effervescent and mature woman came over to me and began talking of her family, smiling broadly with pride in her daughter.

It’s said that one only falls in love with three people, in this life: The love who looks right; the hard love and the love that lasts. This theory takes in an adolescent crush, as its notion of first love, but leaves out the obvious person: One’s opposite sex parent. My mother was my first love, and set the ideal for anyone who came along later. I learned my code of conduct, love of learning and attention to detail, from that diligent and sometimes exacting woman. A boy sees, hears and feels the love of his mother, above all the other females in his young life. I didn’t always listen to her, and bristled, as often as I acquiesced, to her dictums and rules. A man ponders, internalizes, and often passes on to his own progeny, those same precepts-along with what was learned from his father.

I had my share of adolescent crushes, none of which came to anything, and as an emerging, but still immature, thirty-year-old I started to feel something stirring within myself-after living a hard twelve years of struggle with alcohol dependency, a fairly obvious place on the autism spectrum and a pretty serious level of self-loathing. That stormy night, in December, 1980, I came face-to-face with the woman who would be both the love who looked right and the hard love. We worked through a lot, raised a child, and raised each other, past a lot of lingering adolescence. She brought a renewed Faith in the Divine, into my world, and refined my idea of unconditional love. It could be said that she made a man out of me-and certainly impelled me to cast out my lingering demons. That was a process, though, that lasted beyond her own time in this world, and caused me some grief, for a few years after death did us part.

The third love is the one we don’t see coming. I certainly was taken aback, having resigned myself to living out my years surrounded by friends, but essentially alone. Yet, there she was, captivating me more than anyone had, in a good many years-and certainly as much as Penny had, on that night in Zuni. This time, we were part of a group, which went to some places together and, right up to the day I left their company, did not consciously strike me as an agent of the change that was to come. I was cavalier about when I would come back to visit them. Yet, underneath it all, feelings began to bubble to the surface. Before a month had passed, from my return to Home Base, I knew I was in deep.

The love we don’t see coming is said to be the love that lasts. I personally think all three last. I will always be looking out for my mother, as long as she is alive, even though she is safe and secure-and 2,655 miles away. I will always be praying for the well-being and advancement of Penny’s soul, even as her spirit continues to guide me. I will continue to communicate, often daily, with the woman for whom I feel a welling of love, and carefully build a lasting friendship, based on mutual respect and devotion.

All three are strong, independent souls, capable of fiercely defending their loved ones, their values and their own persons. That strength, independence and ferocity, as I mentioned yesterday to a distant friend, are what bound me to my mother and drew me to Penny, and to K. Only a strong woman can truly bring out the strength in a man.

So I wish my third love a Happy Valentine’s Day, and can only hope to be as valued in her heart, as she is in mine.

Here’s Tommy James, offering a take on the notion.

The Beads

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February 13, 2024-Laissez les bin temps rouler”. The good times are no doubt rolling, in New Orleans, in Mobile and way down south, in places like Rio de Janeiro and Port of Spain. In the Big Easy, there’s a lot of tossing beads at those lining the parade route, but that’s just the throwaway part, and there are those whose first concern is the content of the stringed glossies.

I have been on the periphery of Mardi Gras, twice. The first time, the bus I was riding rolled into NOLA, early on the morning of Ash Wednesday, 1987. Piles of stringed beads, leftover jambalaya and crawfish pila were all over downtown, but I was told the French Quarter was already clean as a hound’s entire mouth-never mind a single tooth. The second time was on the little sister of Mardi: Lundi Gras, in 2015, as good an excuse as any to extend les bon temps to four days. Things were already red hot in the French Quarter and a woman tossed a string of beads to me, from one of those balconies that could easily have featured a t-shirted Marlon Brando calling for Stella, at the top of his lungs. I think I made do with a large slice of pizza for lunch, and had my jambalaya later, in the evening, at a nice spot in Lake Charles.

Getting back to the beads, I gave mine to a granddaughter of the heart, that summer. Now we hear that the beads themselves may contain varying amounts of lead. By now, she has probably long since tossed the cheapo stringed glossies. What appeals to a four-year-old is an eye roller, when she reaches the age of twelve. Needless to say, if I have it to do over again, I’d graciously accept the beads, and find that algae pond that an intrepid high school freshman in, I believe, Missouri, said he’s using to break down the lead-infused beads.

My Mardi Gras today consisted of a spirit walk, checking out the end of downtown Prescott’s easternmost north-south street. Cortez Street goes up a short hill, and ends as a cul-de-sac, where there is an apartment complex. Things didn’t get much more rapid fire after that- A Mexican chocolate latte, a walk past the Granite Creek mural (will video that rather charming masterpiece, on Thursday) and a workout at Planet Fitness, rounded out the good times. My Mardi Gras meal was four small Buffalo Chicken empanadas. The times, though, are good enough. I learned a lot, this evening, from a community activist’s presentation on urban gardening. There is much good afoot, in Columbus, OH.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It is also the beginning of Lent, for Christians. I guess that means I should not eat chocolates, when walking by a church that’s letting out. Since Mom taught us not to eat while walking outside, I’m good. Valentine’s Day, this year, feels different. More on that, tomorrow. For now, here’s Ric Ocasek, with another take on Les Bon Temps.