Category Archives: impediments

“Shake It, Don’t Break It”

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 4, 2023- So sang the irrepressible, ever-engaging keyboardist and social activist, as several of us were up and dancing to the rhythmic flow. There is no better way to get in some hyperactivity, around here at least, than at a Jonathan Best concert. There he was, on the Raven’s sound stage, with members of the Lisa Mitts Band. Jon even wore Lisa’s dress, because she couldn’t be present, this evening. You never know what to expect from Jonathan, but it’s always memorable-and relevant. He is at once an outlier-and a mover/shaker.

I have always been an outlier. At the same time, it has always been important to me to support the legitimate efforts of others, even those who were in a clique of some kind. The elites of my teen years, to the extent they were even elites, were generally friendly and while I was not in any “inner circle”, I was never shut out by them, either. The outlier part was largely in my own head.

Self-fulfilling prophecies tend to perpetuate themselves, though. In the Army, rank and file soldiers, especially in stateside posts, were very clear about who was part of an “in-crowd” and who was a cast off. It had nothing to do with job performance, and everything to do with whether the self-styled group leader liked someone or not. I played right into that scenario. The same pattern would repeat itself, now and then, throughout my working life.

That outlier stigma arises in my head, every so often, still. There are certain people whose presence and energy tend to trigger the feeling that I need to get to the sideline and stay there. One such individual, this evening, had me wanting to keep away from the group that was dancing, initially. Getting a vibe that was both elitist and fearful, it was easy to just bounce and sway, in a corner. My buddy, Ken, a few years older than me, has no such compunction. He went right up to the apparent snob, engaging in banter and dancing in his own style. Ken is everyone’s friend.

Before long, Jonathan’s grooves and beats had me forget about who might have wanted me to stay out of the group. Once Ken saw that I was relaxed and no longer keeping to myself, he went back to his conversations at the bar, and elsewhere, occasionally coming back up to the dance area and speaking with a few of the ladies.

The upshot of all this is that, after all this time on Earth, I am finally casting the burden that not even Penny’s love, or the acceptance I’ve felt from so many friends, could completely remove. I don’t know where my feelings of being an outcast even came from, but I know they need to be gone.

Shake it, don’t break it, indeed.

On Agency

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 3, 2023- The former President of the United States faced a Federal Magistrate today, for the second time in a month. He heard the charges against him, pleaded Not Guilty and thanked the Magistrate, before being released in his own recognizance. He maintains innocence, until proven guilty. He maintains agency, regardless.

The topic of agency arose, this evening, during a study session on the matter of public discourse. While the discussion ended up a bit off the rails, largely due to my being a bit tired, after a long day, and thus, not moderating matters as well as I might have, the agency of both those who were carried away in dialogue and those who felt left out, were addressed by the end of the session. Ground rules were established, going forward.

Ironically, the whole kerfuffle came about when the subject of the agency held by children was brought up-by yours truly. That led to discussion about gratuitous spanking of toddlers, and the umbrage taken by some people of our, and our parents’, generations when objections to such “punishment” are raised. Those who got carried away are of the opinion,as am I, that striking people just perpetuates violence. The others in the group, themselves hardly people who believe in corporal punishment, felt “point taken, now let’s move on.”

I have evolved in my thinking on the matters of both agency for children and of corporal punishment. I once believed in the pecking order, that children should serve adults. That went out the window, when I caught some adults using that notion of “service” as a pretext for abusive behaviour.

I have never given our son anything less than respect for who he is, nor have I, save one or two unfortunate lapses of judgement, as a teacher and counselor, seen fit to belittle a child’s soul. My own experience of corporal punishment, as a child, was sparing. Mom and Dad regarded it as tool, to be used judiciously. I followed suit as a parent, until it became obvious to me that there is a conflict between using force as a parent and communicating responsible behaviour to one’s child.

My overall sense, for the longest time now, is that each person, regardless of age, has personal agency. The child needs guidance and reinforcement. The elder needs reassurance of continued relevance. All of us in-between, likewise, need consistent respect, regardless of our positions on matters being discussed or positions in a community.

Trade-offs

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 2, 2023- A photo has gone viral today, of a stern-faced man, in Niamey, Niger, holding up a sign that says, in French, “Long live Putin”. There appeared to be about five hundred people around him, in the photograph, at a rally organized by the new self-appointed leader of that impoverished West African nation. How many were there of their own volition is debatable, but if they were brought there under duress, or with the promise of perquisites/rewards, the adulation for the autocratic leader of the Russian Federation will soon fade. It would not surprise me to learn that the man mentioned above was put up to holding the sign, by soldiers of the Wagner Group, who are ubiquitous in the Sahel region. He certainly did not look very happy to be there.

In a nutshell, I attribute the ease with which demagogues can rise to power, in impoverished nations, to the legacy of colonialism. When personal agency or a sense of community is cut off, by interlopers, for the sake of satisfying the greed of those invaders, the resentment simmers. This will prove as true for the Russians, as it has for the western European colonizers of yore. The only path to overcoming poverty among the masses is unity-under a democratic system, not under the yoke of a tyrant-be he home-grown or foreign-born.

This brings me to Florida-and the notion that slavery was beneficial to the enslaved. That this trope was first advanced by a professor of history, who is himself African-American, does not impress me in the least. Anyone can excuse abusive or oppressive conditions, and offer up a silver lining. More convincing is the umbrage taken to this cockamamie nonsense, by several Black Conservatives. They may ascribe to the noble concept of self-reliance, but attach to it anything that says their ancestors benefitted from having been enslaved, and the cord, rightfully, is cut.

Everything, as Dr.Thomas Sowell once wrote, is a trade-off. If you enslave a people, you break their self-reliance. If you steal agency from another person, then they learn dependency, and you now have an albatross around the neck. If, on the other hand, a person is empowered, honoured and granted agency for life, then society has one more individual who can actually contribute the gifts given by the Divine-on her/his own.

Box? What Box?

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Striving

August 1, 2023- “There is a cancellation for today, at Noon.”, was the response of the manager at my dentist’s office, when I called to inquire on the matter. My plans for a leisurely day, around downtown Prescott, quickly evaporated, and I was on the road to Phoenix, by 9:40. It wasn’t a hard ride, and the desert was not that hot.

A one-hour slot took forty minutes for the hygienist to clean my teeth , followed by a quick handling of a small issue she found, during the routine. There was some discussion of the vagaries of aging, relative to the human mouth, and I resolved to look into natural, as opposed to fluoridic, means to deal with the matter. For her part, the hygienist did recommend a non-fluoridic toothpaste as an alternative.

I did not follow my usual post-dental visit routine, so no visit to the cemetery or to Local Jonny’s, but straight back to Home Base, giving KIA an hour to cool down-then it was over to the dealer’s, for some TLC. The dealership also had a slot open for today, at 4 p.m. Sportage did a lot of work, going to Nanaimo and back, so an oil & lube, tire rotation and car wash was in order. All is “green” with the vehicle, and it will have a fairly routine month of August, staying within state, before a cross-country jaunt next month, and a San Diego drive, to park near Lindbergh, for my flight to the Philippines in October.

These were just the beginnings of indications that this month is going to be strictly “out of the box”, in terms of what I must do, day to day. A friend will need a ride to an appointment, just before my own, in a few days. The two are in the same part of town, so I agreed to help and can juggle my time a bit.

Others (people I know and trust, BTW) are reaching out for financial help, but that will need to stay in the box for now, as work doesn’t kick back in until next week, and with the Federal credit rating snafu, who knows what our collective nest eggs will look like in a week? Probably, all will be well; I’ve just learned to hedge my bets, over the years.

From all indications thus far, though, it’ll be a fascinating month of serendipity.

A Not-So-Lonely Highway

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel

July 29, 2023- A solitary man, either befuddled by the heat or determined to stand his ground, stood squarely in the path of my slowly-moving Kia, as I approached a rest room, at the more aptly named than usual Area 51 Alien Center. The heat, and an approaching full moon, seemed to have brought more unusual behaviour than I’ve seen, over the past eleven years, in that little settlement of Amargosa Springs. I felt badly for the two ladies who were staffing the Alien Center’s store.

The man in question moved along, when I simply turned right and found a parking spot away from the rest room. When I drove across the street, to the Alien Center’s parking lot, he blocked my way with his car, so once more, I turned right and simply found a space that was not in “his zone”. He drove off without any further ado.

The drive down from Carson City was itself quite smooth. I left a bit later than planned, as my help was needed with an online Zoom call, which was best done from the motel room. Breakfast to go sufficed my LA Bakery fix, for this visit. (That establishment, and Red Hut, are my must stops in Carson.) Stopping briefly in Yerington, an hour to the south, I found another favourite, Blanhir’s Bakery, was closed-odd for a Saturday noon. Oh, well, down through Schurz, Hawthorne and Mina, towards Tonopah, it was. A brief rest stop at Luning, just north of Mina, provided an opportunity for service and let’s just say, I fixed a problem that had been left to sit , by earlier visitors. I’m sure the trucker who came by, just as I was leaving, appreciated the problem-free rest room.

Beans and Brews, in Tonopah, is mostly staffed by local teens, so it has been a must-stop, when going to and from Carson City or Reno. As usual, the counter person was energetic and quick to fill my small order. The lady at the adjacent convenience counter, on the other hand, looked like she was melting in the heat. I wished them both a fine afternoon, and went on-past Goldfield, which still does not have the truck stop that’s been in the works for over a year. I think the earth-moving equipment is in the same place it was, last November. Passing through Beatty, and stopping for a quick supper in Amargosa Springs, I encountered the above-mentioned individual-and a worker from the brothel next door, who didn’t bother me, but looked like she needed a good long rest.

What happens in Las Vegas is best left there-but I found reasonable gas, at a station that had been sending patrons to the nearby Wendy’s, for restroom use. Wendy’s, unbeknownst to the station attendants, has closed. I let them know that state of affairs. Fortunately there is a huge shopping mall across the road. An iced coffee from Panera Bread addressed two needs, and I was again on my way, in short order.

Four hours and twenty minutes later, another journey was in the books. It helped me confront a few remaining personal baggage items, without any faux pas, which leaves me with a nice feeling. Thank you, to all in California, Oregon, Washington, British Columbia and Nevada. This was a truly nice two weeks-even through the heat.

Jitterbug, with The Munchkins

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Entertainment, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

July 28, 2023, Carson City– The cast was set to dancing and jumping about, in this version of the spell cast by a cheekier version of the Wicked Witch of the West. W3 did not feel like even hinting at opium being an acceptable diversion and so came the Jitterbug, whose weapon was getting everyone to dance until they dropped from exhaustion. The classic dance marathon, instead of deadly poison, was a tad more family friendly-but W3 still asked Scarecrow if he wanted to play ball.

“The Wizard of Oz” first came into my consciousness when I was about nine, and we started watching it, as a family, once a year. When I hit my mid-teens, the watch party shifted to a gathering of friends-still a time for laughs and feigned fright. Seeing that it has not lost its appeal is re-assuring. There is much that is not ersatz about our culture, and these are the totems that I hope will remain.

Children and teens are almost universally dear to my heart. One of the dearest was on stage as a Munchkin, her time under the klieg lights about five minutes of play time and a few minutes at the end. In our pre-play conversation, I re-assured her that this is how just about everything starts. The first jobs are almost always the equivalent of a small role, with few lines. It is approaching the task with aplomb, with the confidence that one is going to do the small stuff well and move up the ladder, to a place that is deserved, that makes the dream become reality.

So she did her small role well, being visible and audible from where I was sitting, with her grandmother, in the second row. Afterward, the three of us went to a fast food place and each got an orange cream shake. We talked of the importance of agency, which she has already stood for, as she described an incident in which she asked that officials remove a poster she finds offensive. She heard us say: “Good on you and keep standing for justice, even when-especially when, it’s hard.”

I will always stand beside her, her brother, cousins and any other young person who is looking at being hazed or subjected to injustice.

Denial Gets A Comeuppance

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 26, 2023, Grants Pass, OR-

I was told, some time ago, that the homeless community along Washington State’s southern tier had been removed, by sending the lot across the Columbia River, to Portland. Being skeptical that this is even something that could be pulled off, without a whimper from a city that was already choking with a large unhoused community in its downtown and other neighbourhoods, the last time I visited (2015), I went to Vancouver (WA) this morning, after checking out of the motel in Kelso.

Vancouver, not to be confused with the much-larger city in British Columbia, has a lovely park along the Columbia River, and pleasant, clean downtown and uptown sections. It also has the manicured Fort Vancouver, a well-maintained National Park site, whose historic homes are leased to residents and businesses. Living wherever they can put up tents, usually in nooks and crannies along the Columbia, are the remnants of the unhoused community, admittedly smaller than those of Portland, Seattle or Tacoma, but in Vancouver, nonetheless. Denial of a problem will never make it go away. Whoever passed that information along to people down at my Home Base, in Prescott had probably not been to Vancouver.

I took a walking loop to the banks of the Columbia, then around to Esther Short Park, after first enjoying a vanilla latte at Brewed, a small, but efficient coffee shop, combined with a bar and small bakery, on Main Street. Not far from Brewed, there is a parking lot with murals on two of the walls.

The Skagit, Yamhill, and other nations, have not lost their dignity.
Nor, for that matter, have the Hispanics who come here for agricultural work.
The African-American community here seems small, but holds its own.
Columbia River, at I-5 Bridge, Vancouver.
“Boat of Discovery”, commemorating the visit here, by Captain George Vancouver’s fleet.
A long wall emanates from this plaza, honouring veterans of all “foreign” conflicts, from the War of 1812 to Iraq and Afghanistan.
Clock Tower, Esther Short Park. The park was being readied for a special event, when I happened by.

Having a couple of errands to do, across the river, I gave myself an hour to explore Fort Vancouver. The post was established to safeguard U.S. control of the mouth of the Columbia River-with .British, Russian and Spanish claims not fully resolved.

Here is the flag staff, in the midst of the parade ground.
This was a serious parade ground!
Grant House, intended for use by Ulysses S. Grant, when he was stationed here, in the 1850s. He never lived in this mansion, on Officers’ Row.
Here is a view of the Enlisted Barracks, south of the Parade Grounds.
These cannons were replicated, from descriptions of the originals, by local high school students, from 1990-92. They are owned by the City of Vancouver, which supplied the materials.
This was the residence of General O.O. Howard, the post commander from 1874-80.
The Artillery Barracks-It struck me that this could house a lot of people.
Non-commissioned Officer’s Housing
Marshall House, home to General George C. Marshall, during his duty here, prior to World War II.

This pavilion honours the Chinese diaspora to Oregon and Washington. Chinese immigrants faced horrific treatment in the Pacific Northwest, during the late Nineteenth, and much of the Twentieth, Centuries.

After leaving Vancouver, I made my way across the bridge to Portland, getting my Pastini fix, with a late lunch at the Italian food chain’s Northeast Portland branch. Then, it was time to locate and purchase a new adapter, to house my photo SIM card and post these and other scenes. It took me all over North Portland. At one point, I stopped in front of a crosswalk, so that a young lady could cross. One would have thought I had held up the President, for the insistent beeping from behind me. The lady shot a dignified, but definitely disapproving, glance at the impatient motorist and gave me a gentle smile.

The shop I eventually found was a Best Buy, on the far northeast side. Its location afforded a fairly lightly-trafficked way out of Portland, so I missed all but a small amount of rush hour. Still ahead, however, was the large influx of participants, family members and spectators at the Junior Olympics, which I learned was being held in Eugene, Springfield, Albany, Corvallis and Roseburg. All of those cities’ accommodations were either occupied or were priced exorbitantly by the Law of Supply and Demand. After gassing up in Eugene, I made my way down to Grants Pass, and got a reasonably-priced overflow room. My last thoughts of the day, though, are wishes for the kids to be successful at their sport-and more importantly, to have a good experience.

No Contraband, but A Bit of A Chuckle

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 25, 2023, Kelso, WA- The two Border Patrol agents saw the large amount of stuff in Sportage’s back area, naturally wanted to have a closer look. They found nothing in the cooler, but a freezer bar that is badly in need of refreezing. They found nothing of interest among the camping equipment, but my personal digital scale, which I have wrapped in a Red Cross blanket. “How does one use a bath scale in the woods?”, asked the senior agent. “One doesn’t”, I replied. “It’s for use when I am in a room with tile or wooden floors”.

That satisfied them, and I was kindheartedly welcomed back, as they chuckled and shook their heads. Shakespeare said it best: “A bit of nonsense now and then is relished by the best of men.” I continued on my way, to the town of Blaine and Peace Arch State Park.

Pine grove, Peace Arch State Park, Blaine, WA
The border meets the sea, Peace Arch State Park
Riot of colours, Peace Arch State Park
Apropos of our time, here is a description of the great Paul Robeson’s calling out to the world, from a flatbed truck, at this very park, in the 1950s.
Peace Arch, from south side (Blaine).
Peace Arch, from north side (White Rock)
Totem Pole raised to correct historic wrongs, Peace Arch Provincial Park, White Rock
Maple Leaf Garden, White Rock, BC
Peace Arch Park is one of the only places to go between the U.S. and Canada, without showing documents. The authorities are close by, though.
A bit of humour, at Railway Cafe, Blaine

Once I had visited both sides of the Peace Arch complex, it was time for lunch. Railway Cafe is a tiny boxcar that has converted to a cozy, friendly restaurant. Whilst waiting for a made-from-scratch BLT, I took in the homespun humour, such as that above-and below.

This speaks for itself.
Railway Cafe’s Exterior
Across Blaine Inlet, a view of Point Roberts, part of the U.S. but only accessible by road through White Rock, BC. Otherwise, folks go back and forth to Blaine, by boat.

From Blaine, I drove on to Everett, a major U.S. The city is also a commercial port, which at one time was headquarters for Weyerhauser Corporation’s Northwest timberworks. Shingles were made here, en masse, and there is acknowledgement, in the city’s Boxcar Park, of the risks taken by shingle makers-operating sawing equipment, at a very fast pace. Fingers and hands were lost, more often than one might care to think.

Appreciating the risks taken by those who provide building materials.

Weyerhauser House is now a coffee shop and meeting place, close to the waterfront.

Weyerhauser House, Boxcar Park, Everett, WA
Everett Harbor
The Heart of Everett

Once rejuvenated by a macchiato, from The Muse, in the above mentioned house, I took on Seattle’s, and Tacoma’s, rush hours, calmly navigating down to Kelso, on the Cowlitz River. It’s very peaceful here.

No Foggy Notions

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 24, 2023, Surrey, BC- Rain came to Vancouver Island, as promised, early this morning, and stayed the day. The precipitation was mostly gentle, but after checking out of Painted Turtle, I opted to spend much of the day in the Public Library. There were also forays into nearby coffee shops. The first was to Serious Coffee-where a barista at first greeted me cheerfully, later showing a rather serious face, after another patron made a snide comment to her, while himself wearing a sly grin. I thought to myself, while scowling at him, that there is no call for lording it over another person, especially when they are trying to work. The people I have observed here, young and elder alike, do work hard-and deserve appreciation.

After 4 p.m., the rain tapered off, affording me a chance to visit Petroglyph Provincial Park and Bowen Park, both south of town.

An elk, fleeing a hunter
A flounder, or a crab?
A seal looks up.
A bear, enjoying its kill
Two wolves, on the attack.
Western White Pines, Bowen Park
Nanaimo River, Bowen Park
Stairstep Falls, Bowen Park

A perfectly prepared and portioned chicken cutlet with chow mein awaited me, at Sun’s Noodle Bar, virtually across the highway from the turn-off to Duke Point. The congenial server made all of the patrons feel like guests in her own parlor. Thus did my visit to the island draw to a close.

Leaving Duke Point, south of Nanaimo
Dyke Point, up close

The ferry, as it happened, was late leaving Tsawwassen, and so was also late leaving Duke Point. We got back to Tsawwassen around 11:10 p.m., and I arrived at Sun Suite, here in Surrey, around midnight, initially somewhat to the consternation of my Korean host-who reminded himself that I was, after all, not piloting the ship and that I had made good time, once off the vessel and driving around a strange city in the dark and rain.

Sun Suite is a very fine place, in which to rest from three frenetic days, with more to come.

An Homage To The Well-Set Table

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel

July 20, 2023, Salem, OR- The table was set in a way that would have done my maternal grandmother proud: A wide dinner under plate, with a salad plate on top of it and a place setting of sterling silverware, wrapped in a cloth napkin, at each seat. There was a water glass, and empty cup and saucer, at each seat, also. The fare was placed in the middle of the dining table, and we passed the food around, using our best table manners. Such was our host’s first meal gathering, since COVID.

I woke this morning, in Medford, ten miles from the site of the lunch time gathering, to a message from a childhood friend, saying that he was en route to Medford, from a town an hour away. I went to Mellelo Coffee Roasters, enjoyed a light breakfast and coffee, and waited, writing a blog post in the meantime. The meet-up never occurred, due to a variety of small details, but I found Mellelo to be another supremely welcoming place. I didn’t take photos of the spot, as there were people sitting in front, enjoying their breakfasts, but you may find Mellelo at https://mellelo.com/

East of Ashland, there is a place called Equamore-a facility for rescued horses. https://equamore.org/ It is here that my friends, Jody and Philip Weah, have lived, for many years, and until a recent drought, had a garden that was second to none. I know the place will flourish, outwardly, again. It flourishes inwardly, still, as evidenced by the delightful repast that Jody put together, using products that Philip provided from his employer, Harry & David. There were several cheeses and jams, fresh bagels, and even fresher fruit. They do not have horses, per se, but they do have a large dog who may as well be a horse, given his size. He’s a guard dog, though, which meets their needs. I enjoyed discussions with my hosts, and their other two guests-on topics ranging from Baha’i subjects to the state of table decorum, in this day and age.

After an hour or two, it was time for this one to go on up the road, so with a fond hug and farewell to the Weahs, I drove on, in the heat that was somewhat tempered from yesterday’s infernal temperatures. Oregon did not approach the 100-degree mark, at least today.

Salem– Oregon’s capital city is one of several towns in the state that are named for counterparts in New England. I stopped here for the night, planting myself in a room at one of the two Motel 6s that are found here. First order of business, though, was a light supper. Valiant, The Sandwich, a name inspired by video game culture, if there ever was one, proved quite valiant, indeed. An ample, but not overpowering ham, pineapple and grilled onion combination, filling a ciabatta bun, with roasted tomato soup on the side, restored my fading energy-and for the second state capital tour in a row, I found myself walking around Oregon’s seat of government-in early evening and with a ring of construction fence around it, just as had been the case when I visited the capitol at Sacramento, in early May. Salem’s fence, though, goes down to the edge of a busy parkway, on the north side, making circumnambulation a death sentence. I made do with walking on three sides of the structure.

Here are a few scenes of the day.

Equamore, east of Ashland, OR
The Beaver State’s homage to the GI Generation
An homage to childhood, as well: ” A Parade of Animals”, by Peter Helzer, graces the west lawn of Oregon’s Capitol.
The “Parade”, up close.
Oregon Capitol’s crown, from north side.

The cityscape had its share of those suffering, in the wake of high rents and social dislocation. A forlorn woman sat, alone, on a bench, not far from the sculpture of the animals. Maybe she was reminded of a happier time in her life-or maybe it, too, was a nightmare. A disheveled man passed me, as I was checking in to Motel 6. A short time later, a security guard told the desk clerk that “the problem was solved”. Seeing another human being as a “problem” is a problem in itself. She told me that the man had been in the motel’s dumpster-seeking to sleep there. Now, that would have been a problem, had the trash truck shown up to empty the bin, with him still inside. The conversation shifted, to human trafficking, when a man showed up, to pay extra for a young lady, who wasn’t related to him. The clerk wisely asked for the young woman’s papers-which fortunately, they were able to produce. I did not get a sense that there was anything amiss-and after forty years in the field, I pick up on stuff like that.

So, with a good day under my belt, I tumbled into bed. The homeless man went across the street, where there is an organized shelter-and slept in its lobby.