A Day of Change-ups

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February 26, 2023- With 3 inches of snow on the ground, I found it was not a problem to drive to the grocery store and purchase some vegetables and fruit. Then came breakfast at the American Legion Post-a routine on Sunday mornings. Being faithful to my weight reduction program, I saved the pancakes, freezing them for a time when I can nibble at them-along with the cheese and other items that sit in the freezer as well-and will be nibbled at, judiciously, when the time comes.

Normally, a group of us sit at the same table and encourage each other. Today, two of the other five diners showed up-and were already at another table, with other old friends. So, I joined them and the regular table was occupied, in short order, by five gentlemen who had not eaten breakfast there before. When the regulars left, I stayed for a delightful conversation with some other people, who usually sit on the other side of the room.

When I went back to the apartment, and logged onto Zoom, for the devotional which I host, three Sundays each month, I found two of the regular participants also joined-and three who are not usually on the call also logged in. Then, my audio went out, but theirs did not,so they could hear each other-and me, but I was the odd one out. We ended the program prematurely, so that I could go in and find out what Zoom was doing. It turned out that a button had been pushed to mute my audio, when I shared the full contents of my screen. That is something to watch at the next gathering.

The last change-up occurred when I went to the laundromat, and found it locked. What is likely is that the pipes froze, and they just didn’t bother to put up a sign. I will go back on Tuesday and try again.

Changes in routine are good, in that one does not get sclerotic in approaching daily life-as long as the changes do not reflect chaos, which calls for different skill sets.

When Separation Is A Fallacy

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February 24, 2023- The writer and artist responsible for “Dilbert”, a comic strip carried by several newspapers in the country, has announced he is no longer interested in contact with Black people. He says that, in his recent experience, Blacks hate him for being White. Not knowing his specific experiences, I can’t speak as to what he should or should not do. Scott Adams goes further, though, encouraging other White people to likewise shun contact with Blacks, even saying that the news commentator Don Lemon, who himself is Black, has reported problematic experiences, when he lived in predominately African-American neighbourhoods. I can’t speak to Mr. Lemon’s experiences either.

For me, though, I have faced no hatred whatsoever, when visiting predominately African-American “hoods”, or mostly Hispanic barrios, for that matter. The opposite has been true. In one of my first walks in the Southeast area of Washington, D.C., I was a bit hesitant, when walking past a family of three, who were watering and weeding their front lawn. The father was pleasant, and told me not to worry; nobody was going to hurt me. A neighbour girl told her wary little brother, a few minutes later, “He’s a good white man”-while knowing nothing specifically about me.

This experience has repeated itself, many times over, in Black neighbourhoods of Boston, New York, Newburgh (NY), Newark, Philadelphia, Erie, Baltimore, Chicago, Milwaukee, Atlanta, Phoenix, Los Angeles and Las Vegas. People have either been friendly or indifferent, but not hostile. The same has been true in barrios, both in the U.S. and, years ago, in Sonora and Baja California del Norte. These experiences tell me that separation is not the answer. Open mindedness and understanding of different styles of communication, however, are of the essence.

The same holds true for the idea, recently floated in the halls of Congress, and elsewhere, for a “national divorce”-letting regions or groups of states go their ways-even to the point, advanced by a local resident here, of a total dissolution of the nation-with fifty independent countries as the result-so “each state can follow its own destiny”. To this, I say “rubbish”! Any family, community, county, state (or province, for that matter) can attest to the difficulties resulting from differences of opinion, perspective, world view-what have you. The choices are either work through it all and focus on common ground, or give up and walk away.

We have seen five nations split apart, in my lifetime: Pakistan, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, Sudan and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The first four were hybrid states, pieced together by colonial powers (Pakistan and Sudan) or by the participants in the Treaty of Versailles (Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia). The last one fell apart of its own weight. In none of these cases has the separation been complete and total. The nations arising from Yugoslavia have fought one another and still deal with cross-border tensions. Czechia and Slovakia have managed a more amicable separation and find themselves working together, both being part of the European Union. Pakistan and Bangladesh are both part of the union of South Asian states, their main bone of contention having been their being separated geographically, by India. Sudan and South Sudan are slowly learning the need for economic cooperation, despite their divisions, which are primarily tribal and religious in nature. As for the USSR, central planning and a sclerotic economy still hobble several of its former members-especially Russia. The Commonwealth of Independent States, floated by Boris Yeltsin, was a good idea on the surface, but because it mainly sought to maintain Russia’s dominance, it exists today only in name.

I have gone on too long, but the point is, we are a global family-and not talking, or talking trash, with each other, is going to “make the whole world blind”-as Gandhi said, referring to adherence to the Old Testament, back before World War II. There are people who see a better path, such as activists on both ends of the political spectrum, from South Central Los Angeles and rural West Virginia, who have chosen to work together for the common good. One group’s strength is collective effort. The other’s is individual initiative. There are uses for both.

There is, however, no use for throwing up hands and walking out on the very people who need a person’s individual strength and a group’s unified power. There is no strength in division.

Instead Of…….

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February 22, 2023, Patagonia, AZ- No matter what one does in this life, there will always be someone who thinks something else should have been done, instead.

I’ve heard suggestions, albeit gentle, that:

Instead of being in southern Arizona right now, I should be back in Prescott, preparing to set up a storm shelter.

Instead of setting up a storm shelter, I should be helping out in understaffed schools.

Instead of doing my “own thing”, I should be checking with those who could really use my assistance, back at Home Base.

I’m not being singled out, by any means. The President, no matter who he (and someday, she) is has more suggestions as to how to do the job, than just about anyone on the planet. Witness how the zero sum crowd equates the current president’s visit to Kiyyiv with unconcern for East Liverpool, or for the Mexican border. Anyone else in a leadership role has similar experiences.

There is another type of “Instead of”. That is when a planned activity is a victim to changing circumstances, and being graceful calls for other activities to take its place.

Thus, on this journey, the ferocious winds and rain that came here, this morning, nixed a hike to the border, in Coronado National Monument. Instead, I came upon San Pedro House, about eight miles north of Sierra Vista, where I spent last night. A delightful, if less taxing, hike in a loop from the small house to the San Pedro River and back, about 1.5 miles, replaced the planned activity. The winds were not as fierce as they were further south and I got to pay homage to one of the last free-flowing rivers in the Southwest.

Here are a few scenes from the privately conserved area.

San Pedro House, Cochise County
San Pedro River, between Sierra Vista and Bisbee.
Willow and Cottonwood, San Pedro Interpretive Trail
San Pedro River, assuming a channel-like flow.
Green Kingfisher Pond, fed by the San Pedro.
Wind-whipped grass, San Pedro Interpretive Trail.
Wooden water bin, near San Pedro House.
Children once played in this cabin, under the live oak.
Secured utility pole, leaning from the high winds, Old Town Bisbee.

After leaving San Pedro House, I headed to Bisbee, hoping to take lunch at High Desert Market and Cafe. It was closed today, so instead I found Le Cornucopia Cafe, just across the street from this temporarily concerning scene, of a tottering utility pole which, as one onlooker put it, could have set all Old Bisbee on fire, had it toppled and set the wires to sparking. The situation was handled swiftly and well. As for Le Cornucopia, their curried lentil soup filled the simple lunch bill very nicely.

Finally, as the wind was still pretty intense and a mix of rain and snow was falling, as evening approached, I came into this old mining town, in northern Santa Cruz County-an area of Arizona that I had not visited previously. Sonoita and Patagonia are picturesque, with the latter having a charming “Old West” hotel. So, here I am at Stage Stop Inn, for the night.

Stage Stop Inn, Patagonia

It always pays to follow the heart. The Universe has yet to steer me wrong.

Superior Rising

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February 20, 2023 , Superior, AZ- The day started with heartwarming, and heart-rending, stories of Black artists of the 19th and 20th Centuries and the conflicted reaction of even the most prominent “abolitionists” of the Civil War era to women of colour who showed a gift for artistry. I confess that my blood boiled, hearing some of the stories. Every person deserves encouragement and a platform for prosocial gifts.

In the early afternoon, I slowly and deliberately made my way out of Prescott, stopping at Costco for gas and a quick lunch, in the overflow parking lot, and in Prescott Valley, to purchase nuts for snacking. Then, it was straight to this old mining town, which I had not visited since before COVID hit. The overall purpose, rain or shine tomorrow morning, is to re-visit Boyce Thompson Arboretum. This afternoon, though, I hit upon a rudimentary, but interesting, little walking loop, from Superior History Park, across the highway from Copper Mountain Motel, and northwestward across a footbridge, past Porter’s renovated Bar and Grill, then eastward into the small, but somewhat revitalized downtown.

Walking across the footbridge, I encountered a man walking with his infant daughter, who was just learning to walk and was gleefully taking steps along the metal bridge. I told them what a joy it was to see someone taking her first steps in such a delightful place. Dad lifted his baby girl up and showed her the dry, rocky bed of Queen Creek.

I kept going, past Porter’s, where a about a dozen people were enjoying the patio and several others were visible from the window. There is a fairly new park on the north side of Main Street, Besich Park, with a new pavilion. Where Sun Flour Boutique was, there is now Bella’s Marketplace and Cafe. Where the original Sun Flour Bakery and Coffee House was, there is now Random Boutique, where the curio shop was, and the more upscale Miners on Main in the old cafe section. Around the corner, heading back towards the highway underpass, is Superior Barmacy, also a dinner-only restaurant, with a small mural of the “Indian Wars” on its east wall. Such is Legends of Superior’s Downtown Loop Trail.

Here are some scenes of the trail.

Mining Elevator, Superior History Park
Picketpost Mountain, from Lower Queen Creek Canyon
Queen Creek, from the Legends Footbridge.
Hematite and copper boulder, Main Street, Superior
Besich Park, Superior
Apache Yavapai warriors, (Mural at Superior Barmacy Restaurant)
Queen Creek, from Stone Street Bridge, Superior

The night’s focus was a Baha’i study circle, which I facilitated on Zoom, focusing on social action. It is clear as day that there will be no end to the need for such a focus. For now, and for the foreseeable future, I will offer such acts of service, small and large, as the opportunities present themselves.

Microaggressions

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February 19, 2023- Jim Morrison once offered the verse, “No one here gets out alive”, in The Doors song, “Five to One”. It became the title of his biography and a caution to anyone who acts as if they are above it all. There is no one, least of all myself, who cannot improve on both inner thoughts and on behaviour towards self and others.

This afternoon, an earnest young woman offered a presentation on “Microaggressions”, small actions stemming from deeply ingrained attitudes-many of which began to take root in childhood. Reflecting back, I recall hearing a racist version of “Eenie, Meenie Miney Mo”-not knowing what the epithet at the end meant, until Mom said she’d wash our mouths out with soap, if we copied our friends’ use of the term again. It wasn’t until Martin Luther King, Jr’s speeches began to be broadcast on the Nightly News that I figured out how deeply offensive the epithet was to African-Americans.

Still and all, behaviours which did not seem to bother other White people DID bother Blacks, and I am grateful that I was called out on them, almost immediately-and told WHY they were offensive. Anything which does not allow for equitable treatment of all people, regardless of their outward features, has no true place in the human fabric. It will take time and patience, both with oneself and with all one meets, to overcome the little affronts, which do add up-and contribute to misunderstandings, and feelings of being aggrieved.

Humour is often used in such faux pas-and the offended person is often asked, “Can’t you take a joke?” The answer, when a relationship has not been firmly established and mutual trust deeply ingrained, is “No”. Humour ought not, ever, be used as a screen, behind which one may toss darts at people who are different. The better option is self-examination, on a daily basis, and increasing one’s understanding of the deeper cultural elements that might lead to someone feeling microaggression directed against him/her.

No one here gets PHYSICALLY out alive, but we can certainly grow our spirits.

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.