Warrior

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March 11, 2026- “Nobody’s Girl”, by Virginia Roberts Giuffre is a brutal read; arguably the Auschwitz-Birkenau of books. I am little more than halfway through the late author’s account of her life before, during and after her association with Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell. Her life up until meeting her husband, Robbie, was a classic case of “assumed deserving of deprivation” combined with identification with aggressors. Epstein heard her tale of abuse by a family member and family friend, and incorporated his own misogynist credo into several years of what amounted to sexual slavery.

“Jenna”, as she called herself, was the sort of girl that, even in my own awkward episodes of standing up for abused children and teens, would have been safe in my care. I might have coddled her and called her “beautiful”, to excess., but I would not have cared who came after her. There would have been no harm, and every power figure who tried to deliver her back to her abuser(s) would have been loudly and publicly called out. That happened once or twice in my career, and otherwise good friends had to be put on notice that the child came first.

Jenna ended up being her own warrior. Her husband helped some, but only she knew the depths of what had been done to her, since the age of seven. She had to withstand a torrent of gaslighting, on which those in positions of power and those who are themselves in denial tend to fall back, especially when a long and fairly successful gig is up. Virginia Roberts Giuffre ended up committing suicide, or so we are told. I am not finished reading the book yet, so I will defer judgement as to whether the case is actually as it has been constructed by those in authority.

It just is a bit too much of a cookie cutter ending, to the case of a person who had finally found a fulfilling life in a loving family of her own choosing.


Fifteen Years

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March 5, 2026- It was a mild, crisp Saturday morning, when I got the call that I had been expecting, since having woken to a heavy presence in the bedroom that Penny and I had shared for nearly twenty-nine years. I was told that I didn’t have long to get to the Hospice, if I wanted to “exercise the option” of being with her when she passed. I had not taken the spare room that the Hospice provided to those who were expecting a loved one’s imminent passing. because we lived thirty minutes away and a gentleman from Nashville was present, waiting for his mother’s demise.-

This was a case of trusting the Universe to arrange everything nicely. As it happened, the entrance ramp that would have gotten Aram and me there on time, was blocked. The detour added an extra ten minutes to our drive and we arrived, on a still morning, to be greeted by a slow spiral of leaves and dust, swirling near the door. Three minutes had gone by since Penny’s departure, so quiet that the nurse, who had checked her ten minutes earlier, was taken aback. Still warm to the touch, eyes still open, I know that my beloved would have preferred to wait, but it was not to be.

My task, in the years that have gone by, has been to make a concerted effort to live a far better life. It took a few more years, after that day, to vanquish my demons and accomplish most of what we had planned to do together. Here I sit in a comfortable open office, in our family’s home, looking at our infant granddaughter, via a monitor. She is asleep in her crib, with plenty of room, on a soft but firm pad. Helping to raise her will be my lasting gift to the wife who sacrificed everything to help me turn my life around.

It’s been a long process, but I really think I’m there, at long last.

Centrifuge

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March 2, 2026- Humanity seems like it is in a vessel that is spinning and separating people according to various qualities or elements. Those who took chemistry or physics in high school or college know full well that I am referring to a centrifuge. They can imagine, correctly, that the feeling is uncomfortable at best and shattering at worst.

Neoliberals argue that this “us against them” process is simply the way of the world- “just the way it is”, as the President of the United States said yesterday. Their whole premise is that the other side started it, and besides, the other side is “seeking to divide us against each other”-a centrifuge operating inside a centrifuge.

Depending on the historical record cited, this is indeed how it’s largely been for the past 6,000-10,000 years. It has been a slugfest, fueled by testosterone, territorialism and a scarcity mentality (zero sum game). “If you have power, I don’t”, however, no longer works well in a world that is more connected than that of Nebuchadnezzar, Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Chingiz Khan or Napoleon Bonaparte. Hitler, cited by the ignorant who look wistfully at a past they barely comprehend, was in fact a poster child for the limits imposed by impulsivity coupled with simplistic blame-casting. His centrifuge tossed virtually everyone to the edges, leaving a sour cream of faux perfection to try and hold his fading Reich together.

The substrate of money plays a heavy role in the present exercise. Notice how those taking action against some countries, but not against others, seem to be acting mostly against those whose countries are rich in resources, and therefore a potential source of ever more revenue.

The centrifuge needs to be turned off. We are in a world that needs justice, far more than it needs to fuel ambition.

Head Held High

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March 1, 2026- Hana has developed enough upper body strength to hold her head up, while prone, for several minutes. It will not be long before she can also scoot herself forward, without help. Crawling will come after that. She is able to track the movement of her caregiver and will respond to her name, often by raising her little hand. On top of that, she has started singing little cooed tunes that are in her head.

The biggest contribution I want to make to her life is to ensure that she holds her head high, regardless of circumstances. I am already telling her this, knowing that it will take some time for much of what I say, to register. Still, a lot of what is said to pre-lingual children can register and be used by them later in life. She certainly seems to be storing a lot of information already.

It is my belief that much of the trauma that children experience can be mitigated by a solid first six months following birth. During the newborn phase, many physical and communication skills are initiated. How confident a child becomes, depends on the balance between being comforted in actual times of distress and over-protection, when the child can calm self if given a few minutes to think and reflect, knowing that a loving presence is near, should it all be too much to process.

Hana is getting there, because one or more of us are paying close enough attention to know when she has hit a major bump in the road or just needs a bit of breathing room.

How Hard Is It?

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February 24,2026- Ten random questions come to mind, on this quiet day.

How hard is it, to see a girl or woman as a full human being, with valid dreams and aspirations that are worthy of support?

How hard is it, to not project one’s own insecurities or perceived inadequacies on another person-as a means of avoiding personal responsibility?

How hard is it to recognize that a person of another shade of brown is not an inherent threat to life and limb?

How hard is it to see that a person’s being from another country is not a “Go Straight to Jail” card?

How hard is it to not put an infant, or small child, in harm’s way, in the name of policy?

How hard is it to read the United States Constitution and abide by it?

How hard is it to listen to another person’s point of view, and not take it as a personal attack?

How hard is it to remember the person you once were and go back to the best of those basics?

How hard is it to place monetary gain well behind following the Ten Commandments/ Golden Rule?

How hard is it to have spiritual gifts and not use them as a means to an emotional or remunerative end?

A Better Fit

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February 23, 2026– While I was going through my twelve exercises, on the machines at Planet Fitness, this evening, a young woman nearby was benching 225 pounds. I passed by, on my way to the massage lounge, while she was resting, and offered a glance of encouragement. She certainly was performing a feat that I am unlikely to even remotely approach. She is doing something right for herself, and those in her circle who are encouraging such achievements deserve kudos as well.

This is the sort of elevative wraparound I want to build for Hana. The “Mighty Girl”ethos, not taking away from a similar network for boys, but making personal empowerment a universal child rearing model. This is not a zero-sum game, and those who insist it is are themselves only coming from a position of weakness-regardless of their personal trappings of wealth and power.

I have read a fair amount, recently, about the debilitative effects of patriarchy. It is not only the rich and powerful who operate under this system, as any young woman in a tradition-laden society, who has to marry the man who her father has arranged for her, finds, often to her sorrow. There are more subtle ways the patriarchy knocks the props out from under a woman or girl-linguistically, vocationally, or in terms of expectations. Perhaps the most insidious is the use of women who are either defeated or are somehow in league with those men who are maintaining the patriarchal system. There are several prominent examples of this phenomenon in our present society.

Hana will face many more choices, as she gets older. My main focus will be on helping her sift out the limiting agents of the patriarchy (including those who come on as glamourous or empowering, but are really old vinegar in new bottles). Her parents and I will be her sounding boards, and biggest cheer squad-and God help the person or persons who try to derail her.

Ambition

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February 5, 2026- Hana makes no bones about it: She wants to stand up, and so with my help, she does, in sets of twenty. She wants to climb up on our shoulders, while being held, and so whoever has the honour will support her doing that. She likes to try and scoot or crawl, twice a day, on a soft nylon pad, and will work very hard at it, before getting frustrated. 7.75 weeks isn’t quite enough time, but she isn’t checking the calendar. Our girl is already setting an agenda for herself.

Hana comes by this honestly. Her paternal grandmother earned three Master’s Degrees, despite being physically disabled. One of her paternal great-great grandfathers was a master of podiatry and invented the Fellman boot, which was distributed to all ship-bound sailors of the U.S. Navy, during World War II. Her maternal grandfather gets up at 4 a.m. and works his farm until nearly dusk. Her parents have agendas for each day, and are not happy unless they accomplish at least 80% of those game plans.

So, we played the stand up game and I counted forty stand ups, while I was holding her and about twenty more, later in the day, while her Daddy was up for it. Mommy got her to start pushing forward with her feet a couple of times, and she realizes that holding her head up is key to successful ambulation. I look forward to helping my granddaughter set her own pace. She is not going to lay around and do nothing.

Untangling

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January 31, 2026-

Today, partly at my suggestion, A and Y took several hours out of the house to just have “date time”. I was perfectly happy taking care of Hana and reflecting on what I might have done to be a better husband and father. Aram, thus far, is proving to be a cut above, in both areas.

I am finally close to untangling the dilemma of this account. My request to Account Recovery has gone through to them and is now in queue. In a week or so, things should be back to normal here.

I am also continuing to recover from Thursday’s mishap. Tomorrow morning, I will lose the chin strap head bandage and go with a gauze pad on the wound site.

Life is a constant stream of tangling and untangling. Some seem to enjoy the tangling part. I prefer a simpler state of affairs.

Powering Through

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January 22,2026-

My son worked at clearing all our yards of leaves-until close to 11:30 p.m. A suctioning, mulching and bagging tool, carried on his back, made a four hour job shrink to two .

This came about after he put in eight hours of work and spent a few hours with his daughter.

My daughter-in-law, after seeing her mother off at the airport, came back determined to handle her own mothering duties as independently as possible. She did just fine, which shows that one’s most heartfelt efforts to give advice, while appreciated, need to be tempered with letting the recipient of the advice integrate it into own skillsets.

Hana, for her part, is working on turning over and is practicing crawling up from the belly of the person holding her, up to the shoulder. She also has a couple of one-syllable utterances: “Hi”, when seeing me first thing in the morning and “Oww”, when something hurts. The latter is incorporated in the accompanying cry.

My little family is a remarkable trio, powering through life.

The Penske Chronicles, Day 4

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December 29, 2025- The normally effusive server seemed terribly unnerved by something, knocking over water glasses and delivering a cup of coffee with a slightly shaking hand. I have been in a similar state, long ago, in a diner back East, so my empathy was present. Her more composed co-workers helped her keep steady, at least, and my meal was perfectly delicious. Still, I was concerned for her equilibrium and left a larger tip than usual.

This set me to thinking. Today’s post recognizes ten of the local people who made the most significant impressions on me, these past fourteen years. Not in order of importance, they are:

10. My hiking buddy, Akuura Kulak. Besides being equally enamoured as I am, of the beauty of the Southwest, and of Arizona in particular. We also have a similar appreciation for the cuisines of East and South Asia. She is a spot-on reader of people’s astrological charts and purveyor of scents, as well as essential oil blends.

9. My co-worker at Soup Kitchen, John Davidson. John is like the snarky dorm buddy that I missed more than I had thought. He is also a hard worker, running a local food pantry, as well as being a constant for Solid Rock Christian Fellowship’s community outreach activities.

8. My landlord, Robert Mosquera. Robert has never skimped on getting fixes for anything that has been out of order or broken, these past twelve years. Our complex is a simple operation, and his family occupies half of the units, but I still got more bang for my buck here than almost all of my friends in other rental situations in this area. Robert also was an enormous help today, getting a large sofa/hide-a-bed to Goodwill. It was one of those hard-to-sell items, but we got it done.

7. A consistent friend and supporter, Judy Russell. Judy has gone the extra mile in just about anything she’s done since moving here, 25 years ago. Service to our shared Baha’i Faith, to her apartment complex and to her employer, Yavapai College, has been exemplary. She was a great help, in housing my daughter-in-law, when Yunhee came here, in 2021, ahead of Aram, who was still in transit from Korea.

6. The Yetman Family: Carol and Dick, their daughter, Kathleen and her husband, Cole. This wonderful family has been instrumental in the success of Prescott Farmers Market, in the Solid Rock Soup Kitchen and in back-to-school supply events at Prescott United Methodist Church.

5. JayLene and David Long. The driving forces of Prescott’s premier fall event, Hope Fest, the Longs have transcended personal suffering and gone the distance to provide this community with a stellar faith-based day of service to the homeless and less-fortunate. The music is superb and the activities, from legal aid to haircuts, have given help to hundreds, if not thousands, over the years.

4. Molly and Gary Beverly. These farmers of Chino Valley have been driving forces in so many areas, but the greatest of these are Slow Food Prescott and Friends of the Verde River. Without SFP, school gardening initiatives might have languished and proper knowledge and respect for Heirloom agricultural products of Arizona might not have been as widespread. Without FVR, there may not have been a successful Save the Dells, which in turn has protected the Prescott area’s most unique natural wonder: Granite Dells. The Beverlys also have one of the finest farms in the area, and once had a natural swimming hole.

3. The Schaelling-Pena Family. Dharma Farm, the family of seven (and sometimes, ten), and Landen’s indomitable efforts at sustainable living and Permaculture, coupled with Holly’s gentle guidance of five beautiful children, made my occasional visits events that I could have enjoyed on a weekly basis. It was a tonic, being there and seeing young toddlers with a sense of responsibility for one another.

2. Carl Brehmer. One of the most erudite and skilled musicians I’ve ever known, a small farmer and craftsman, and certainly one of the most caring souls that the Prescott area, and our Baha’i community, can count on in a heartbeat. He was an earnest, loving caregiver to his late wife, Marcia, who also ranks as a powerful presence, with her work in fostering awareness of ADHD, both in children and in adults.

1. Meg Bohrman. Another of Prescott’s astonishingly-talented and caring musicians. Meg is everywhere, when there is a faith-based event or things like the Women’s March, the Tree-Lighting ceremony or anything sponsored by the Coalition for Compassion and Justice-or a chance for a concert by Galactogogues, or a solo stint. I first encountered Meg at a dedication event at the Unity Church, when she stood on the sidelines and cheerfully played her accordion. It’s been fabulous music ever since. Her husband, Thatcher, has been the quiet, supportive presence at just about every gathering she either headlines or performs in a supporting role.

A special mention begs here: Melissa Monahan, and her beautiful family, without whom a lot more time would have been needed for me to recover from the loss of my wife and from the missteps of the years that first followed that loss. Melissa has brought the healing element of do Terra, a commitment to true natural healing and the welcoming presence of a stable and loving family. She is also a local pioneer in the cultivation of microgreens and has been a sterling example, to me, of what it means to be a grandparent. She has arguably been my best friend in Prescott.

As with any short list, there is that roster that could go on forever. My life here would also not have been as rich and healing without my Prescott Cluster Baha’i family: John Lambert, his sister, Tammy and late wife, Margaret, Linda and Randy Smith,Gladys Stewart, Mary and John Passamani, Deb and George Konizer, Pamm Sosa, Dave and Annie Lovell, Steve and Tauby Calrow, Steve and Sharon Stone, Frank and Ellen Assadi, Claudia and Donny, Ellen Buccholz, Susan Bensch, Jerry Gardner; without Joe and Sandy Gorraiz and all the regulars at Ernest A. Love Post 6 of the American Legion; the Monday Coffee Klatsch ladies; Ashley Fine and her daughter, Sedona; Dawn Wasowicz, her daughters Arin and Brooke, and late husband, Jeff, who have made Rafter 11 such a staple of my weekends here; Allan, Bea, David, Glenda, Lloyd and Nichele-the Taco Tuesday regulars at El Gordo; The Cheektones, Jonathan Best, the Howard Brothers, Scandalous Hands, Candace Devine and Lake Francis Case, the grand family of Prescott musicians, who make the Raven, and the Courthouse lawn, so vibrant and experience; Annie Baker, Kaolin Young, Emily, Lena, JB Campos, Paul, Keaton, Marie and all those who make the Prescott Farmers Market such an integral part of anyone’s Prescott experience; Karen Pimentel, Tom Altavilla and my Red Cross family, who taught me the skills necessary to engender public safety; and finally, the workers and clientele at Monday’s Soup Kitchen: There is wisdom to be found in every soul’s story.

Tomorrow afternoon, I leave an empty and clean apartment, but I will never leave this beautiful place and all the people mentioned above, and more, in my mind and heart.