Truncated

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February 16, 2023- Two boys took up my attention, for much of the day-one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Both did their best to dodge work, but I have crafted my own style of dodging, over the years. Each young man was eased into completing at least two hours of work-at his own level and pace, but it was done willingly. I have heard that little good is ever achieved through the use of force-and I am seeing that it is true.

Today was the last day of four weeks worth of substitute teaching assignments. The work ended up being truncated, with snow and ice getting in the way of schooling- three weeks ago and again, yesterday. My first thoughts, on both occasions, were for the safety and well-being of all the affected children. It happened, on the first canceled day, that someone dropped the ball, just a tad, and a busload of students sat for an hour, then gave up and went home. The driver, for his part, kept them all safe and warm for that hour. The issue was communication, back and forth, at higher levels-probably including a call or two to state education officials. There is no truncating the safety of people, especially of children, and it is my understanding that lessons were learned by people long out of school.

My journey to southern Arizona is also truncated-and will be from noon on Monday to late Thursday afternoon or evening. The route will be circular and clockwise-to Superior, Biosphere II, Bisbee and Coronado National Monument, that I may finish a hike to the border, and head back up, through Sonoita, Patagonia and Tucson-making a call on an old friend, before getting back in time for activities on Friday morning-at the very least. Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument and Kitt Peak will happen, later this Spring, as a separate journey.

Some things will never be truncated: My loyalty to, and love for, family and friends-even though I may not see or speak with them much. We will each meet again when it matters most. Just know you are never out of my consciousness.

Dualities

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February 15, 2023- It has been said that freedom is bondage, and enslavement, freedom. How can either be so? Let’s think for a moment. Freedom to act does come with a set of rules, such as honouring the responsibilities that derive from it. One may drive a motor vehicle, after completing training required by one’s state, province or prefecture of residence. From that point on, each time one operates said vehicle, there are responsibilities-to fellow drivers, to pedestrians and animals who are using the road, to property owners along the road, and to the proprietors of the road itself. Maintaining safe practices is the trade-off for the privilege of driving.

Courting and marrying another human being is also a privilege. It comes with very definite responsibilities-to honour that person’s humanity and to regard the person as a full partner, in everything, large and small, that has to do with your life together. As Penny often said, “Consultation is finding out.” The procreation and raising of children, financial moves and just the planning of a given day, are all within the purview of consultation with one’s life partner. There are also responsibilities to the extended family, to at least show them courtesy, on a consistent basis.

I thought of this, while pondering that getting out of bed in the morning is a trade-off-Giving up the comfort of covers for the joy of starting a new day. There is much more to be said, but I must get going with said day.

I Might Have……….

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February 11, 2023-

I might have loved St. Andrews, a treasure by the sea, but I had to shoot my mouth off, and felt compelled to flee.

I might have made a bundle, and climbed the ladder high, but I fell hard for the bottle, and let good fortune slide.

I might have stayed in college, and fallen for a sweet colleen, but it became more enticing to wear the Army green.

The Universe, as it happened, had greater plans for me, from the day I was sent back homeward the Light was there for me to see.

So, my life has unfolded nicely, with faith, love and good fortune, a loving wife and son. Time and tide actually did wait for this errant soul to return, and follow the One.

I have come to love St. Andrews, and much, much else besides. The key it seems, is to take nightmare with dreams, and from nothing, seek to hide.

,

Children, Young and Older

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February 9, 2023- A few days ago, we read a story called “Eleven”, by Sandra Cisneros. The author speaks in the voice of a girl who is observing her eleventh birthday, in the classroom of a seemingly senescent teacher, who also has it in for the girl. While waiting patiently for the dismissal bell, the birthday girl considers that her new age is also an amalgam of each year that came before it. Part of her is still ten, as well as five-when she needs her Mom’s comfort or two, when she adamantly objects to a directive, without quite knowing why.

This came to mind again, two nights ago, when I watched the State of the Union address. The hecklers were all out of Central Casting, it seems, and would not have been out of place on the set of “Chicago”, when Catherine Zeta-Jones and Queen Latifah were musing about the lack of class, whilst themselves indulging in unclassy behaviour. The ringleader, Marjorie Taylor-Greene, reprising her heckler role from the last such event, could have filled in for CZJ, though her vocal chops are unknown, besides the immature braying. It was sheer vaudeville, with the President giving as well, if not better, than he took.

Yes, Sandra Cisneros is right. Each of us can, and does, revert to earlier versions of ourselves, when frustrated, scared, feeling disempowered or perpetually ignored-or just plain exhausted. We have seen a septuagenarian spend time in the limelight, bullying and catcalling those who upset him, often over the least little affront. We have seen a Rhodes Scholar demean himself and his office, by taking up with a woman young enough to be his daughter while alluding to similar behaviour by others who held that office, in the past. Most recently, we have seen a woman, in the name of comedy, curse at a man young enough to be her son, just for the fact of his age-and that he is serving in the same House of Representatives as she.

Maturity is a hard row, but you know, I am grateful to the actual children, whose presence reminds me to act my age. They need the example, and I need the practice.

Studying Gnosis

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February 8, 2023- This week, my main thrust is aiding three groups of students in their study of the culture and legacy of ancient Greece. Gnosis is a generic Greek word, meaning “knowledge”, though it has come to connote knowledge of a spiritual nature. “Know thyself” is the first of three admonitions, inscribed at the entrance to the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. There is no time in life when self-awareness is more crucial than during the period of life known as early adolescence. So, study of the great figures of historical Greek culture-and reading some of the knowledge they imparted can provide a good measure of assurance to a struggling 11-or 12-year-old.

The teacher whose class I am covering is taking her students through several multimodal activities, in each of the cultures they are studying. Each student had to research a key figure in Classical Greek culture-from Draco to Sappho, and including Archimedes, Solon, Sophocles, Plato, Aristotle and Euclid, among others. The material, of course, is age-appropriate, so there is no graphic detail provided about certain elements of that ancient realm.The lessons are of the enduring gifts sent us by the Classicists: Plane geometry, architecture, romantic poetry, the the of law, existential philosophy, dramatic plays, competitive sports, clinical medicine and basic democracy. The students also learned to write the ancient Greek alphabet, itself the precursor of both the Roman and Cyrillic scripts, and to fashion the design of the period.

Most essential, though, is that each person knows that what they carry within is a treasure to be nurtured and shared. He or she also will see that people persevered through some tough times, and that they, too, can devise creative ways to do so-with some of these perhaps becoming part of a future great legacy. If this lesson is enshrined in the child’s psyche, then this teacher, and I, will have performed a service.

Some Gave All

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February 5, 2023- On February 3, 1943, four brave men stood, arm-in-arm, on the deck of an Army Troop Transport vessel, as it was sinking after having been hit by a German torpedo. They were military chaplains, who had given their own life jackets to four scared young men and seen to it that those men went onto a life raft. The four chaplains died, along with over 200 others, for whom there was no room on the rescue rafts. They died praying with those men.

I had the honour, for a second time, of reading the biography of one of the chaplains, as our American Legion Post held its Four Chaplains ceremony, this afternoon. All gave some; some gave all. This ceremony reduces grown, hardened men to tears-proof of what I mentioned in the last post. To respond to one of my critics, the fact that some women engage in dissolute behaviour has nothing to do with the presence of nurturing energy in men, nor is it proof of gender equality. The actions of the four chaplains, and of countless men who have engaged in similar acts of love for their fellows, are the definitive proof.

All gave some; some gave all. I can only hope that, if I am called to such an action, that I will find the strength to carry it forward. Some gave all.

Who, The People?

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February 2, 2023- Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow this morning. Legend has it that this means six more weeks of winter. Other animals did not see their shadows, thus there will be an early spring. People, like prognosticating animals, are of different minds about the same thing.

A heartfelt message appeared recently, asking me to re-consider support for the “Wokies”, who were “brainwashed”. The message cited “We, The People”, as its source. This group wants to “take the country back”.

Another group, also “We, The People”, notes that a good part of the nation has been disenfranchised in the past, and some are at risk of being disenfranchised again. They strive to “take the country forward”. So, who are ‘The People”?

On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, a wise woman said “All means all”, whether some are heroic and well-grounded or cowardly and self-centered. She has a keener sense of an answer to the above question. The Eternal brought all human beings into existence. Some, adopting a belief in self-reliance, grow into a conservative, business-oriented philosophy or go even further, eschewing virtually all dealings with government, above the local level. Others, adopting a communalist stance, grow into a progressive, social-justice oriented stance or go even further, eschewing any dealings with “the elite”.

We are ALL “The People”. There are countless examples of people in public life savaging each other one minute, and being compelled to seek each other out, the next. The recent exchanges during the selection of a Speaker of the U.S.House of Representatives are a mild example. A few years ago, a member of one faction of the House encountered a fellow passenger in medical distress, on a flight from Washington to Phoenix. He summoned a member of the opposite faction, with whom he had been arguing almost incessantly in the course of House business, and the two managed to save the suffering man’s life.

The best thing that can happen to any soul is to be put in a situation where interaction with someone who has an opposite, or challenging, take on how society ought be organized, is in the best interests of both. There are no “POSes” or “wastes of DNA”.

We are ALL “The People”.

The Rocks Are The Ones Who Endure

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February 1, 2023- The young man privately explained his actions, wanting to make sure that I understood and was not swayed by the chatter of others. I determined that it would be best for me to mainly observe what everyone was doing, and pay close attention to his teaching style. All in all, he led well, and engaged the students, through some rather tough subject matter. The other staff followed his lead and maintained a unified front. it was a good day.

In times past, I have been inclined to take the side of a woman, in disputes, especially if the man comes across as bombastic and patriarchal. Time has shown that this is not always fair-and that women (and girls) can certainly be devious and less than truthful as well. It is the subsequent behaviour that often gives the culpable party away-and I am not surprised if both are at fault.

Yet, it is the person who is direct in communication, sure of self and able to cut through the fog of others’ machinations and misinformation who gets my support and confidence. Often, that has been a woman, but it is MOST often the person who is being shut out by a small coterie. I have been in that situation, countless times, and so am more inclined to offer the outlier the benefit of the doubt. That happened in this case, and I am confident that the students are in good hands, all around. It’s been a good three days, even if I was mainly a fly on the wall.

Those who are towers of strength, who withstand buffeting winds, who are rocks, are the ones who will endure. Those who yammer and undermine would do well to stop, look and listen.

Two Boys and A Spider

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January 31, 2023- The small wolf spider had found its way onto a school gym floor and was inching its way across. A curious little boy, who loves insects and arachnids, spotted the black beast and stood watching it, for several seconds. He got down on his knees and bent down to look closer. A teacher standing with him said not to get in the spider’s face, as the animal would get scared and bite him, in self-defense. The boy listened and continued to watch from a distance.

Shortly afterward, they were joined by a more rambunctious boy, a year older than the first, who had a different view of small invertebrates. He wanted to step on the poor crawler, or throw a small ball at it. The teacher prevented this from happening, knowing how, at very least, it would upset the younger child, besides affirming to the older child that killing animals was inherently okay. In the end, the spider continued on its long journey across the floor and the boys went back to their classroom.

At the same school, before Christmas, a group of girls had adopted a small bat, which had been separated from its colony. They protected and nurtured the animal, until another student hit it with a rock, killing the bat, and causing a fair amount of turmoil at the school. The community has long been divided between those who wish to cultivate vegetables in a school garden and co-exist with nature, versus those who regard everything natural as getting in the way of progress. Right now, the garden group has the support of the school administrators, and the fate of the bat has not reverberated well for the anti-nature group.

If one were to leap ahead in time, and look at a community where “progress” has been untrammeled, and the situation described in Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” actually come to reality, the imbalance would be seen as untenable-and small, but significant, moves towards a re-introduction of natural habitat would be seen taking place. This has been happening in large cities, across the world, as well as in phased out industrial sites. These have become a focus of environmental education activities in schools just like the one referenced above.

Balance always finds its way to the fore.

Cold Shoulder

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January 28, 2023- Both of my favourite Prescott weekend haunts were nearly deserted, this evening. It’s shoulder season-the slow period between mid-January and St. Patrick’s Day, when a single person can actually expect to have a table of four to self-for nearly a whole evening. I ask you, who needs a table of four to oneself? It makes my night-or day, for that matter, to share a table, or give away seats to couples or foursomes who need an extra chair or two, at their table. Sometimes, I even get invited to join the gathering.

The artists, at both Rafter Eleven and Raven Cafe, were fine musicians and got plenty of applause, and tips, from those of us who came to listen. Steve Miller ( no, not the Gangster of Love, but a joyful singer, nonetheless) offered up a couple of hours’ worth of Golden Oldies-including some from the ’90s and 2000s, to a nearly empty Rafter. No matter, Steve has been here several times-and played to a packed house. At Raven, Remi Goode, a five-piece folk and blues-oriented band, named for its front person, found themselves the main event for the evening, as a local band that was to be headlining found themselves unavailable. Remi and Co. were fresh from a visit to Nashville, where they had done several gigs. They were up to the evening and did three imaginative and well-balanced sets. They made a lovely point, that Prescott is a good place to stop, on the way back from a Nashville road trip. I can think of a few places along the way that would also have been nice stops-but this town is one of a kind, so who am I to be a wet blanket?

A mysterious couple came in, not long before I left. First, the man entered, stood next to my table and seemed very nervous-wanting to applaud, while Remi was still singing-even asking me when they were going to stop. The woman came in, shortly after, smiled wanly at him and went straight to the back. Man followed her, at a discrete distance. About ten minutes later, they both came back-and woman went straight out the door. Man watched her leave, wistfully, and left himself, five minutes later. I just had an inkling that they were working something out, but the cold shoulder she seemed to be giving him indicated it wasn’t happening.

Shoulder season is slow, but has its moments.