September 26, 2023- Seven groups of students, some duos, trios and quartets, cheerfully performed what they knew, of the beginning chords to “Good King Wenceslaus” (It’s not too soon to start practicing!), “Mary Had A Little Lamb”, “Seven Nation Army”, “Toboggan Run” and “Two Bach Psalms”; even “Happy Birthday” had its opening notes offered by a soloist.
I am one of those advocates who hold that there is no bad music, painting, pottery or poetry-when offered by a child. Other adults, whose only frame of reference is their own grown-up experience, may beg to differ-or say that not criticizing mistakes is a form of enabling. Rubbish! A person learns by doing, especially in the arts.
This was one of the most enjoyable school days I’ve had in some time, which is saying a lot. We were given a work packet, on musical math, but that took scant time to complete. Then, it was time to go forward and practice-the one thing that builds strength in artistry. Being one who, to this day, is illiterate musically, I will do all I can to encourage young people to learn to read music-and stretch their skills in its expression.
I look forward to attending their Christmas concert-and its Spring equivalent.
September 25, 2023- A co-worker on the serving line, this evening, was unequivocal about my sun shield cap. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you’re wearing that, around here”, he chortled, as I put the cap on, just before leaving. He pointed out that it did not cover my face, which was dabbed with sunscreen. The whole outburst was rather pointless, only signifying the need of so many, who style themselves as “normal” and anyone who acts differently as somehow off the mark, to reinforce their own, narrow perceptions. Fact is, though, my skin is safer from cancer with the cap and shield. Nothing else matters.
Earlier today, I had a good day covering mathematics classes at a nearby Middle School. The packet and subsequent online activity kept most students busy, through each class period. I was able to explain matters to those who wanted my help, and pair others with their peers,if they found that more comfortable. One boy was so busy trying to impress his pretty classmate, by goading me and trying to say that he thought I was stupid, that the predictable thing happened: After several minutes of abiding his shenanigans, she got up and moved to another part of the room. Most kids are more interested in bettering themselves and aren’t as invested in proving their “normality” as so many of us were, at their age.
Neurotypical and neurodivergent are actually traps, false dichotomies. I was raised to not try to either feed my autism-which wasn’t even recognized by that name, when I was a child nor to make excuses, based on having the condition. Those who claimed to be “totally normal” almost always found themselves at a breaking point. Those who just went through life, not bothering with judging others, most often were the most successful, at whatever they tried. In that sense, the secular mantra “You do you” makes a great deal of sense-as long as it doesn’t lead to total disengagement from one’s surroundings.
I, doing me, have a lot of social interaction and reasonable attention to others’ needs.
September 24, 2023- As I placed my portable chair down, amongst strangers, at this afternoon’s Peacebuilders concert, a pair of familiar faces zoomed past me, delighting in the warmth of an early autumn afternoon. The little boy, in an open shirt, with a smile as wide as the Atlantic, shrieked in delight, whilst his slightly older sister, in a proper full-length dress, was looking more towards re-joining her newborn brother on the family’s blanket. They didn’t recognize me, though somehow, their toddler sister did; it’s been almost two years since we’ve seen each other.
I have always been drawn to loving families, but they have not always been drawn to me. The brood in question is of a couple who are welcoming of older people, on occasion, but are very suspicious and formal, much of the time. We quietly drifted apart, two years back, and this was the first time I’d seen them all together, along with the children’s equally reticent nanny, since the last time I was at their residence. At that time, there was nothing to indicate I’d offended them, in any way. The distancing was just one of those happenstances that come about, for God knows what.
The gathering itself had the energy of “You came alone, so sit alone”. I broke free of that barrier, towards the end of the concert, and bounced, sore toe and all, to a lively German polka-offered by a group who are themselves very much welcoming to all who attend. Basically, though, New Age people here are a rather reticent, tight-knit tribe, perhaps because they find themselves surrounded by Cowboy Culture and a machismo that would deny free-thinkers their due. It takes almost as much energy to make friends among neo-Hippies as it did befriending people in small-town Maine. When one goes away for a time and comes back, as I do, it’s almost necessary to start all over again.
I will nonetheless keep showing up at community events, and performances at The Raven or Elks Theater, and let the New Agers’ energy flow, as it will. Sooner or later, the hermetic circle will melt, of its own. They will see that I mean them no harm.
September 23, 2023- The cylindrical tent tether fell over, and landed on my right big toe. Nothing was broken-not even my sense of pride, but the toe will be bruised and sore for a few days. This is one of the risks one takes, when working breakdown at an outdoor event that involves such equipment. Open air tents need tethers and the tethers most commonly used are steel cylinders, filled with cement. Most of the time, we cand n place the tethers in rows of three, inside our Farmers Market shipping container, and they will stand up straight. As the cement base wears out, though, care needs to be taken to prop up the device. In this case, better attention will be paid by yours truly, going forward.
This brings up the whole issue of getting too comfortable in our routine activities. The prime example is the number of auto accidents that occur in people’s neighbourhoods, or in nearby business parking lots. I have had one of my vehicles hit by someone who was “only wanting to just pick up my kid and get out of this lot!” The high school students who witnessed the event (back in 2018) were less than impressed. I can only imagine the embarrassment of the teen in question. My Elantra was only slightly dented-in that instance. It would end up in far worse shape, when hit a year later by another person who “was on a tight schedule”. I got another vehicle, rather quickly. He, on the other hand, was arrested for excessive speed.
We can, in an uncertain world, take nothing for granted. I was able, though, to walk without pain, complete my volunteer shift and go on to enjoy a couple of concerts at Raven Cafe, this evening. There was no bouncing and dancing, though. Discretion…….
September 22, 2023- It seemed the interior lights were stuck on and visions of a dead car battery floated in front of me. I headed to work anyway, with a TPM light also pinging on, as the SUV rounded the corner on Pleasant Street. Earlier, other indicators of dearth appeared, on my e-mail serve. The message that I got was “Carry on, and be patient. Solutions to these piddly matters will come, after your day with the children is done.” So it was-tire pressure issue was resolved first, then the lights were found to be due to the overhead switch having been hit, inadvertently. There was no dead battery in the offing.
Hurdles come to us, whether one is rested or tired, insightful or insipid, calm or rattled. Like anything else, what we do with them is a measure of judgement and character. There was a time in my life when the slightest hiccup assumed great urgency. You can pretty much figure out how effective my problem-solving skills were at that time.
I mention this primarily because, in teaching developmentally disabled children, as I was today, the greatest gift we can impart to them is how not to be rattled by frustration or delayed gratification. The brighter a developmentally-delayed person is, the more the challenges posed by those circumstances. ,
On this day, in the little classroom, four of us were pretty much one-on-one-and it worked out all for the best. There were no major meltdowns, for which the regular staff were grateful and the children actually showed retention of a skill or two-things that are not possible, if there were any kind of tension.
The catered meal, of Cajun food, was also all for the best-perhaps too much so. Oh well, I have the weekend to work it off.
September 21, 2023- I relaxed in Century Lounge, this morning, being greeted by another of the angelic presences who make life, both here and abroad, so affirming. It has been a rather carefree day-despite the presence of an angry panhandler, downtown, who has so far confined himself to making surly comments and thrusting his hand out to passersby. The authorities don’t seem to know quite what to do about him; after spending ten days in the County Jail, on unpublicized charges, he came right back here and resumed his demands. I am all for helping homeless people, and am in the serving line, each Monday evening. I am also hardwired to not kowtow to ad hoc authority figures or randomly demanding people. I recently lost a friend of over fifty years, for not loaning money. The stranger on the street is not going to be treated any differently.
There is an attitude of oppression in the wind-both in Congress and with the minders of our nation’s economic system. The mood seems to be “You will all make do with less-and like it.” That has been tried so many times in the past fifty-five years, and we, the common people, are still here. It will end the same, this time. We will hang together and the Big Dogs will get tired, go back to their scheming and hoarding, and the majority of us will survive, in place if need be. I want to be clear: This has nothing to do with ideology- the elite of all stripes are culpable. I, personally, leave them to themselves just follow the promptings of my spirit guides, as best as I know how.
I believe that downturns are mostly manufactured, contrived. There is way too much wealth that is either being horded or wasted; the same is true of nearly all resources. The only meaningful answer is taking the time to distribute resources equitably. That has never been very well understood, but is close to becoming an imperative.
September 20, 2023- Several tree branches graced the highway, between Winslow and Strawberry, leading us to stop and wait for fifteen minutes at a stretch, as one lane was open, and we took turns with oncoming traffic. At least this time, no one jumped the gun and refused to wait-unlike last year on Cape Breton, when a pick-up coming towards our traffic line challenged the lead vehicle-a semi-trailer. Guess who backed up five hundred yards?
Today’s episode led to a pushed -back chiropractic adjustment-which was no big deal. The evening Zoom meeting, which was the other reason for making sure I was back at Home Base-Prescott by this evening, was lengthy, but well-organized. These next three weeks need to be similarly focused, on my end at least. A fair amount of work is on tap and renewed attention to weight reduction, though this journey has not been as hard on that part of my life as it might have been. Connecting a few more dots on the Philippines trip needs to happen-so long as the plug is not pulled on TSA and the air traffic controllers, come October 1.
Recapping, the four-day Colorado East Baha’i Summer School provided spiritual grounding before I headed north and east. Laying a wreath at the grave of a fallen police officer was the other side of the coin from George Floyd World Square, where I stopped in 2021. A corollary visit to Oheyaw Ahi, land sacred to the Dakota people, was an added blessing. Visiting the Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette is essential to me, personally, in ensuring both physical and spiritual well-being on any cross-country jaunt. My mother’s 95th birthday, though rather low-key, was the centerpiece of the drive. The birth of a grand niece, though I did not hang around and witness it, was as good a reason as any to stop in the beloved climes of southeast Pennsylvania, spend time with my newly relocated brother and sister-in-law, and of course stop in at Glick’s Greenhouse. It was also a reason to make homage to a much-loved cousin, who spent her final years in York, a place of considerable historical importance-as is its namesake in England. Visits with old friends in Crossville, TN and Amarillo topped off this year’s cross-country.
Other old friends were welcoming, in Wilmette, IL; Saugus, Bedford and Wilkes-Barre, PA; and Moriarty, NM. There were new friends made-in Luverne, MN; Toledo; Kittery, ME; Harrisburg; Marion, VA; Atoka, OK-and Amarillo. The most important, enduring feature of any journey, though, is the connection with family. At journey’s end, I can say that it, almost alone, determines the success or failure of the effort.
September 16, 2023, Crossville, TN- The flinty-eyed man seemed to regard me warily, as I walked into the front room, where he and two other folks were socializing, with the homeowner, over beer. After our host introduced me to the three neighbours, the wariness went away, and I was asked if I would consider moving here.
Crossville, and the immediate area around this house, are certainly salubrious enough, and the people are downright friendly, after about ten minutes of sizing up a newcomer. I am happy with my present Home Base, but it surely is fun to visit here.
The Pond at Crossville. (Above and below)
The flinty-eyed man asked me about Arizona. He wanted to know if Mexicans dominated the state. I answered in the negative, saying that while there was a sizable number of people of Mexican heritage there, that they were not in the least a dominating, domineering or unpleasant, in any respect. I told the group that I found Mexicans to be a hard-working people, which is true in Arizona, and from what I’ve seen, true in the Southeast as well. The restaurant where I had breakfast this morning, in Marion, VA is called Sur 81 (south on I-81). It is owned and operated by a wonderful Mexican family, and drew a large crowd while I was there. The food was sumptuous and the server, a gracious young lady. Basically, I see no difference between them and the Appalachian Whites who work the Bucc-ee’s, down the road from here. All are working hard and are merely providing for their families, as most people everywhere are doing.
The subject changed, from the politics of immigration, and of the next election,once I simply repeated that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and of course, vote accordingly. It seems to me that the most conservative person, and the most progressive, want above all to just be heard. It is when someone feels shut out, that the shrillness kicks in. The rest of their visit focused on the local high school football team, the way that the marching band’s sound carries, over the woods and to this bucolic neighbourhood, and the skill sets that help people make ends meet around here. Our host, Chuck, is a retired firefighter, so his life is pretty much cut and dried-he can either volunteer somewhere, or just hang out, and no one is of a mind to be critical.
Those who are depressed by a rainy day, such as today, might have taken the short gathering in the room as an invitation to sow division. My company, being more optimistic, and basically seeing “no problems, only solutions”, to quote John Lennon, takes a rainy day as a sign of blessings. So long as one is in a safe, dry place, the rain only enhances life. I had no issues with bringing my bags from the car to my room, in the pouring rain. God knows, there are way too many people who have no car-and no room.
I will leave here tomorrow, but Chuck’s encouragement of his neighbours, his wife, Laureen’s food truck, the flinty-eyed man’s auto repair shop-and the Bucc-ee’s down the road, will with any luck, long continue.
September 12, 2023, Exton, PA- Bushnell Park is one of New England’s best kept secrets.
The park, designed according to the style used by Frederick Law Olmsted, in his construction of New York’s Central Park, was constructed, in 1861, by a Swiss-born landscape architect, Jacob Weidenmann, who came recommended by Olmsted. It is named for Dr. Horace Bushnell, a health-conscious minister and community activist, who recognized the benefits to the public weal, of urban green space, at a time when business leaders were more concerned with making money from tax rolls than with any government involvement in the health of the citizenry.
Bushnell Park is one of the crown jewels of Hartford. Connecticut’s capital city is known for its insurance corporate headquarters and, along with so many other northeastern cities, for its struggles to renew vitality. Hartford has a magnificent core. Stopping there today, on the way from Kittery to this small, and vibrant, western suburb of Philadelphia, I found these gems:
Statue of Apollo, near State Capitol, HartfordEast side view of State Capitol, HartfordHorace Bushnell Theater, HartfordPond and fountains, Bushnell Park, HartfordSoldiers and Sailors Memorial Arch, HartfordThe Pump House was built in 1947, as part of the Connecticut River Flood Control Project, after downtown Hartford suffered deluges in 1936 and 1938.
This last item hints at solutions that might be pertinent to resolving the woes of other flood-stricken communities. As I write this, two Massachusetts towns: Leominster and North Attleboro, are dealing with severe damage caused by flooding. Several Alaska towns had flood damage, earlier this year. Across the globe, fire in the Mediterranean region (Greece, Sicily, Algeria) has been followed by flooding (Libya). It is perhaps essential to more closely examine the role that wetlands might have, in mitigating both flood and fire, since one usually follows the other.,
It also helps, that the majesty of smaller cities be recognized, appreciated and celebrated.
September 9, 2023, Saugus- As I left the Massachusetts Turnpike and headed north, on I-95, towards this town of my youth, a warm stream of air enveloped my shoulders and the back of my neck. I was being greeted, reassured, by someone-my father, my brother Brian, maybe even Penny. This was good, especially as the off ramp is extremely winding, for about 1/4 mile, and all protection is welcome.
Each time that I have taken this route, over the past dozen years, stops at Bedford and Wilkes-Barre, PA diners have been routine. In both cases, the initial visit was at a time when I was emotionally vulnerable, and a kind woman was my server. Of course, the food at both places was great, ample and reasonably-priced. The ambiance was comfortable, as well. I came to enjoy each subsequent visit to Rte. 220, in Bedford and D’s, in Wilkes-Barre, with different people, equally engaging, have been present and welcoming.
The energy in both places seems to have shifted, just a tad. There was a world-weariness about the staff. I think it is largely a sign of the times. People who have lived all their lives, according to certain rules and expectations, are finding the pace and direction of change almost too much to bear. Being one who has learned to go with the flow, to a reasonable extent, I am not as perturbed by the need for adjusting the sails and hope that future stops will see a resurgence of well-being.
I have, though, drawn the line at certain points. When a writer who has done great work, over the past two years, came out with a paean to satanism, this believer in the Divine said “Enough”, and cut off connection. I know that is “only an opinion” of hers, but there is a deeply troubling energy behind it, and truthfully, darkness is the absence of light, not its opposite. I am no fundamentalist, just an optimist who sees great things ahead-provided people work together to BUILD, not to tear down (except in the case of walls); to elevate, not ravage; to support one another, not sacrifice innocents.
I am here for a day or two, to celebrate the ninety-fifth birthday of the woman who made my own life and times possible. It will likely be a low-key event, but one much worth the drive here and all the reminiscences that are sure to arise. I also hope it will be followed by at least five more-so long as the quality of Mother’s life remains constant.
A Sagittarian Seeker 