Defender

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June 28, 2024, Bedford, MA- The little boy was only four, but still got in front of someone he thought was bothering his mother, and stood with fists clenched-size differential between him and the perceived threat be darned. His mom moved him out of harm’s way and took care of matters, herself.

Today, I was that little boy, all over again, holding Mom, ready to defend her-against any suffering she might still be feeling. Now, there is little, or none. She still draws breath, and is semi-warm to the touch. Her heart, lungs and brain are still doing their basic work. This didn’t stop me from wanting to protect her-though from God knows what.

I felt the uncertainty, driving back from Lynnfield, this evening. Family members sensed this and engaged in text message levity, which helped soothe any of my own feelings of dread. I also told myself that, whilst on the road, my ancillary mission is to be part of a safe network of motorists. Other drivers are my family, between any two points. The mother and baby sitting on the curb, at Bedford Motel’s driveway, are family. The joggers running on the side of the road, going both for and against traffic, are family. So, too, are the construction workers, the semi-truck driver trying to pass everyone on the inside and the half-crazed person with the crazy hair, tail-gating me on a number of side streets. Most of the rest of the motoring public are like distant, but still significant, cousins.

Mostly, though, I will be told that my main job is to protect myself. So I will-that I may complete this present mission, to finish honouring my mother; that I may manage the four-day camp, after my return to Arizona; that I may fulfill a pledge to visit several Baha’is from Carson City to Vancouver Island and mainland British Columbia-with several people in Oregon, Washington and Idaho, in between; that I may also make good on my promise to return to the Philippines, this Fall.

That little boy will always love and defend his mother, by living up to what she taught.

Frizzle-Frazzle

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June 18, 2024- I saw the word ‘paradise’ on someone’s post, this afternoon, and was moved to play Bruce Springsteen’s “Paradise”, from his album, “The Rising”, his 2002 response to the attacks on September 11, 2001. He sings three verses, depicting three different souls. Yet, when I first listened to the song, I thought of my wife, Penny, even then living under a cloud. Somehow, we’d have one another, for another nine years. She died in 2011.

I have not been triggered by this song, or anything else-not even anniversaries, until today. This afternoon, hearing those words hit me hard. Part of it is the aloneness that I choose, so I can’t point fingers. Yet, it is made harder by the silence.

Silence has always bothered me, after a week or so, from those to whom I feel especially close and after a month or two, from everyone else I love. I guess that’s why I am online so much, especially since Penny passed. It is also why I treasure living in a town where I can walk to where there are people whose companionship I value. Today, it was Planet Fitness and Wildflower Bakery. Other times, it is Raven Cafe, , or Zeke’s,or the Farmers Market -or Rafter Eleven, if I feel like a short drive.

When I was a teen, there was a cartoon about a time traveling wizard who sent his protege to distant places. When it was time for the episode to end, the wizard’s mantra was “Frizzle-Frazzle, Frizzle, Frome, time for this one to come home”. So often, I have faced the “frizzle-frazzle” of grandiose plans falling apart, and have “come home” to reality, with a straight face. I am sensing that my latest grand, feelings-based plans may be “frizzling” and “frazzling”. It’s that silence again. We’ll see, in a few days, or a few weeks.

The Biggest Picture

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June 17, 2024- The first question from friends’ mouths, here in Home Base 1, is not “When’s your next trip?” It is more like “What was your favourite part?” There are several, to which I have alluded here, and am glad to recount again, for those who don’t read this blog. Certainly. time with Mom was priceless. So, too, were visits with siblings and cousins, New England and my little family in Texas. The two visits with the Miqmaq elders in Eskasoni are up there. Making a connection with Kathy’s friends in Newfoundland is huge. Food- in St. Pierre, Twillingate, Botwood, Margaree (NL), Whycocomagh, Shediac, Middleton (MA), Nahant, Downingtown, Ruleville and Grapevine will stay sweetly on my palate.

I was asked further questions about the deeper gratitude. The changes that have been wrought within me, surfacing in the past year or so, are grist for those. I can think more clearly, have more attention to detail, show more methodical work habits and have a better Body Mass Index. What gives? I can’t say enough about the strengthening, deepening of my Faith. Improvement of a diet and exercise regimen has its place. Feeling deeply in love, after thirteen years of widowhood, can’t but help. Deepest of all, however, is self-acceptance, the realization, at long last, that no matter what happens in any of the above areas, I will be okay-or more than okay.

The biggest picture takes me forward, doing the work that I was meant to do, all the way from infancy. Stay around, if you would.

Gratitude, ’24

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June 16, 2024-It was a fine pancake, sausage and scrambled eggs breakfast, this morning. Thank you, American legion Post 6. My gratitude list, though, is both more basic and more complex than a simple meal.

My most essential and enduring gratitude is for my parents-the father I honoured today, and have tried, with varying degrees of success, to live up to; the mother who clings to life, knowing at some level that she is still very much needed. My three siblings, each a testament to their legacy, embody the best of what Mom and Dad have tried to instill in us. Son is a reflection of the best of his late mother, and of myself.

Penny’s spirit, along with my Dad’s-and of her parents, still are my blessed guides, steering me towards the Light, even when fatigue and self-doubt have taken over. I am ever grateful that she led me to the Baha’i Faith, the Teachings of which will continue to sustain me-for all eternity.

I am grateful for all the people I have met, both in the Prescott area, across the continent of North America and across the globe. The lessons learned in the course of both work and travel have helped, at long last, to make me feel the inner strength that was probably inside me all along, and to become a person of value to community and humanity as a whole. All this has brought me to a place of sublime love, which I also suspect has been welling inside me all along. It has made me realize how important friends are; how much I need to show grace, even to those who I might think have turned away; it has made me value a new special person in my life and not want to shy away from , or bury, my feelings towards her.

So, I am grateful for Prescott, for the wider Arizona, the Southwest, the United States as a whole, for North America. I am grateful for Europe and east Asia-particularly for Brittany and Normandy, for Alsace, and Luxembourg, for the Belgian Flanders, for a swath of central Germany, for South Korea and for the Philippines. I am grateful for all I have not seen of this world, and for the friends there, who faithfully read my posts and show their love in different ways. I am grateful for opportunities to serve- and for those who serve me.

May this sense of gratitude continue to grow, in this special year of getting away from comfort zones, and in the years yet to come.

Mending Fences

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June 15, 2024- The sun came up, fierce and hot, on this first day of relative time off. There is still the work to be done here at Home Base I, yet nothing will draw me out of state until mid-July, unless I get that call from Massachusetts.

I had the honour of spending a couple of hours sharing stories of life, and thoughts, with someone with whom I thought I had fallen out of favour. No such thing had happened, as it turns out. The Red Cross booth drew passing attention, and one person wanted to have smoke detectors installed. Mostly, though, it was just M T and I, sharing stories of our departed spouses and of those who have won our hearts, more recently.

It was a joy to get back, a short time later, to Farmers Market. My good friend M M told of her own brief time away, which does my heart good, and I offered to help for a few hours each day, clearing the area around her forever home. That offer will stand, for the month or so that I am here, as well as in August, which also will mostly be spent around HB I. The young people who run the Market were glad to have me back, albeit only for few weeks.

After a few hours of rest, it was time to head over to a place from which I had banished myself, for a couple of years now: Synergy of Sedona. S R had sent me an invitation to the Saturday evening portion of their 6th Anniversary celebration, so it was time for self-imposed exile to come to a close. It was an entertaining mix of genres, on the stage: Jazz, folk, spoken word and poetry slam-even a comedic recounting of a lady’s post-divorce westward “drift” , as she put it. The plea for a “divorce shower” was half in jest, half in earnest; and you know, it makes perfect sense. When someone’s life is completely upended, why not a life change registry? I had plenty of help, after Penny passed on, but a divorcee’ ,oftentimes, only encounters the Wall of Shame.

The feeling I got from S R, though we only spoke in greeting, was that whatever it was that transpired, two years ago, had long since flowed into the ocean of bygone and had sunk to the bottom. I may not beat a path to Sedona, all that often, but knowing the door is open does my heart good. Mended fences can stay up.

Camp Notes, Day 5

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June 11, 2024, Bellemont- An old friend pulled in, this evening, just after sunset. Looking about the place, L remarked on the serenity that still pervades the camp, even with the many changes since she was here last.

The old French proverb, “The more things change, the more they stay the same”, applies as much here as anywhere. Buildings can be built, but eventually, plumbing starts leaking, tree roots need to be clipped away from foundations and piping, and roofs always need to be replaced-among other things. We, as a society, are ever striving to strike a balance between progressively including marginalized groups in community life and preserving the moral code of conduct that has sustained our society. It seems there should be no conflict between the two-and yet……..

The kids went on a stargazing walk, this evening, after a warm day of study and group sport. They came back with a renewed awe for the vastness of the Universe. It is events like this that give credence to the very idea of a Faith that stresses the Presence that has made us all. I remember that, when pondering the still-pending transition of the most powerful woman I have ever known and the ongoing process of this country’s standing at a crossroads.

The camp is now past its halfway mark and will have a strong impact on its participants, including me-the humble manager.

Eastbound and Back, Day 36: Replenishment Alerts

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June 3, 2024. Moriarty- The world is not so much finite, as it is a place of temporary systems. Each system has its unlimited aspects, each can only hold so much, at any given time. A stomach can only hold so much food; a cerebrum can only focus on so many thoughts, at any given time; a bladder can only hold so much fluid; a bank or credit union can only hold so many accounts; a border station can only process so many visitors, properly, on any given day-and so on.

Eventually, any given lack can be replenished. Any given problem, no matter how novel, can be solved. So it is, that I focus my energies on meeting some expenses as they occur, paying others in advance and making provisions for the maintenance and replenishment of my savings, however much they may be temporarily be needed in the interim. So it is, that I schedule time at Home Base I, no matter that I might be called away again-as is the case this weekend and next week, as well as in the second half of July-and in the Fall. So it is that time is set aside for health-related check-ups, and regular cycles of exercise, diet and rest, as a means of avoiding serious illnesses down the road.

Today was a long drive-from Grapevine (Home Base II) across a vast swath of northwest Texas and eastern New Mexico, to this favoured way station, roughly 30 minutes east of Albuquerque. I did not stop to visit friends along the way, because it is a workday and because I need to focus on choreographing the rest of my week rather tightly. A surprisingly nice lunch, at a Pilot Travel Center, in Rhome, TX and a few stops for refueling along the way, made the whole day flow. This coming Wednesday until Friday of next week is a busy time, mostly for faith-based activities. “To whom much is given, much is expected.”

Eastbound and Back, Day 30: Differences in Significance

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May 28, 2024, Harrisonburg, VA- There are always a few dozen reasons why any given thing can happen. It struck me as odd, that the driver of the dark grey sedan followed me, a bit too closely, from the exit on I-81, to Motel 6, and kept on driving when I pulled up to the office. It was not anything that would have fed suspicion, or paranoia. He actually already had a room in back and apparently just was in a hurry to get back there.

A friend and I had a conversation, this morning, about someone known to both of us, who makes everything about self. It could be something that involves the person directly, or is only tangential to the soul’s life, but this individual is a past master at being front and center.

I, myself, try not to be. Recently, I have conducted a pair of transactions, on behalf of someone about whom I care deeply. These are a bit more complicated than I had expected, so my messaging to the other person has been more frequent than either of us might normally prefer. I was finally able to get the companies involved to correctly address the products being sent, but it made for a nerve-wracking day, at least for me and for a third party who is receiving the items on the other end. Fortunately, not much money was involved; it was just time and energy that were sapped.

I stopped here, in Harrisonburg, because it has been one of those days, when I just could not go any further. H’burg’s significance to me is as a safe haven. I can totally rest here, and not have to concern myself with anyone’s expectations. That started years ago, when a young lady named Jasmin had me sit in the most comfortable chair in her cafe, because it looked at that point like I could go no further. Jas, and The Artful Dodger, are in H’burg’s past now, but the ambiance of the place is still salubrious. Mishawaka and Ocean Beach are in that same vein.

There are differences in the roles that many places of significance play in my life. Prescott and Grapevine are full-on homes, with all the various roles played by a Home base. Exton, the North Shore and Spring Hill are places to connect with family, yet mostly in neutral settings, for various reasons. Grand Canyon, Bisbee, Santa Fe,Victoria, Cape Breton, and now Corner Brook are places to relax somewhat and connect with spiritual kin. Carson City, Oley, Boothbay Harbor and Taos are even more in that category. The jury is still out on the Philippines, but the next few weeks will indicate what significance that country, and some of its people, are to have in my life.

Mostly, though, is what significance I have in my own life and in those of the people I adore. Much depends on what is going on in our respective lives, so I have reached the point where whatever interaction I have with treasured people is golden.

Having had a quiet afternoon and evening to myself, I no longer feel like a stuck pig.

Eastbound and Back, Day 21: Newfoundland Notes, Part VI

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May 19, 2024, Port aux Basques- The screen in the lounge, at Marine Atlantic’s terminal here, was showing “The Perfect Storm”, the 2000 film about a fishing boat disaster. The weather tonight will be relatively calm, and there were no kids watching this, so I’d say we are dodging a bullet.

I got into town fairly early this afternoon, after a light breakfast at Harbour Grounds, a pleasant little coffee shop in Corner Brook. Today was laundry day, so much of the time was spent at First Choice Convenience Store’s laundromat corner. Afterward, though, I decided to search for the places that were recommended to me, east of town, as hiking venues and one, as a dinner spot. The areas in question were the little villages of Isle aux Morts, Burnt Islands and Margaree. I went first to Burnt Islands, checking out the lime-stained rocks, offshore, that vaguely resembled small ice-coated boulders.

Doubling back to Isle aux Morts, I found the Harvey Trail, named for one George Harvey, an 18th-19th Century immigrant from the Channel Islands, who settled with his wife, Jane, a native of the Port -aux- Basques area and their nine children, in this then remote spot, where at the time, no other people lived. George and his eldest daughter, Ann, rescued several sailors from the sinking ships, the Despatch and the Rankin, in 1828 and 1838, respectively. Here are scenes from the Harvey Trail.

Finally, Margaree, a tiny village that lies southwest of Isle aux Morts, has Seacoast Restaurant, with extraordinarily tasty seafood, beef and pork dishes, served by a group of gracious, very unassuming women. The owner brushes off compliments, but I know she is proud of the operation. It was a vibrant Sunday night crowd, made all the more so by the day being Pentecost Sunday AND the middle of a long Victoria Day weekend.

That made the relatively light crowd on tonight’s sailing to North Sydney seem rather strange, but maybe it’s a sign that people want to celebrate closer to home. I leave off here, after successfully dealing with my bug-a-boo, backing the car up longer than ten feet. The patient ferrymen got me to back Sportage up some forty feet-without banging into anything. That’s progress!

St. James Anglican Church, Port aux Basques, NL
Neighbourhood on north side of Port aux Basques
Burnt Islands,NL
Burnt Islands, NL
The story of George Harvey, Isle aux Morts, NL
Shipwreck capital of Newfoundland
Seacoast Restaurant, Margaree(NL)

Eastbound and Back, Day 20: Newfoundland Notes, Part V

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May 18, 2024, Corner Brook- The giddy photographer stopped, rolled down his car window, and called out to the two moose who were nonchalantly grazing away, in a field adjacent to the road. He snapped a couple of photos, as I was passing by in the opposite direction, to tend to other business. When I got back, the shutterbug and moose had disappeared. Oh, well. They are probably not the last moose I will see this trip. There have been four, so far.

After opting for a light breakfast, this morning, I left Carriage Inn around 10:30. The road back to Corner Brook was generally lightly-trafficked and the weather was delightful. A lone cow moose, grazing off the road, was cause for people to flash bright lights at one another. The big elk could have cared less. She was way off the road and the grass must have been sweet.

Carriage Inn, Grand Falls-Windsor
Meeting with Baha’is of Corner Brook
Crow Gulch mural

I arrived at River’s End Motel, around 2, and was directed to use a code, in order to get into my room. This seems to be an anomaly, as yet, absentee owners and a brief, every-other-day housekeeping service. I am only here overnight, so it makes little difference to me. The room is clean and comfortable, so we’re good.

My visit to Baha’i friends here was more old school-a hearty and joyful conversation, of about two hours, followed by a simple and satisfying meal of pizza and chicken soup. Then, more conversation, focusing on ongoing issues with treatment of First Nations people in certain parts of Canada. I have seen some strides being made in that regard, in the west of the country, at least, and in some areas of Cape Breton, but as in the U.S., much remains to be accomplished.

Crow Gulch was an area, largely settled by Miqmaq families, just above a paper mill, on the outskirts of Corner Brook. It was the object of scorn from those who considered themselves “better off”, as the homes were seen as being haphazardly built, with few having electricity or running water. The community lasted from the 1920s until about 1980, when it was vacated and bulldozed. Crow Gulch is now honoured by a mural and by a book of poetry, written by a descendant of two of its residents. Those looking back on the place today recall it as having been a vibrant community, where the joy of close-knot families outweighed the hardships caused by outward poverty.

It is places like Crow Gulch that are as important to me, if not more important than, any swanky or upscale locales. The spirituality of a given place is its most important feature, and such strength of purpose is stronger, quite often, in rural communities than in areas where the pace of life is more brisk. This is recognized by many, in the video below.

Tomorrow marks my final day in Newfoundland, for this year, at least. It’s gratifying that I would be welcome back here, to stand with those making a decent life for themselves in this beautiful and sometimes harsh land of four seasons: Just another place to call home.