Gophers, Minestrone and Ubiquitous Welcomes

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March 23, 2021- I set out this morning, for what I thought would be a day of working in a Literacy Project. Arriving at the school, I was informed that I was to work with Eighth Grade Science students, and this was not a suggestion. The details are complex, but the situation is not the fault of the teenagers, so I put as much effort into helping them understand DNA and RNA, as my scientifically illiterate self could muster. It is not as hard as it is sometimes presented. The result was that the kids were hoping I would stay for the rest of the semester. That won’t happen, because of other commitments-but I know efforts are being made to secure the instructional program.

Another warm welcome, this time at a local soup, salad and sandwich establishment, at which I am a weekly visitor, featured both piping hot Minestrone and fresh-baked bread, along with a cheerful server, who never stopped working- bringing food, helping bag to-go orders, sweeping the floor or clearing tables. I always feel like my presence matters there, which is not always the case for a single older man. Actually, it seems as if my presence is wanted in more and more places, both in-person and online. I’ll take this state of affairs, and the rain-checks that come with it, any day of the week, over the occasional surliness and side-eyes that had started to pop up, as winter wore on.

This evening, I joined an online discussion on gardening, which featured, among other things, gopher extermination. Gophers are a competitor for any fruits, grains and vegetables grown in the Mountain Southwest. The veteran farmer who offered the program was quite matter-of-fact about the necessity of being not nice, in dealing with these competitors. There is, other than coexistence, which runs the risk of both dietary and financial ruin, no gentle way to deal with gophers, moles, prairie dogs-or javelinas, for that matter. He went through tunnel traps, toxic deterrents and electric fencing. I will go with construction cloth, below the planting area, and see how that works-though my neighbours had no issue with gophers last season.

Every day, as is said in the Sheryl Crow song, is a winding road.

The Butterfly’s Heart

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March 22, 2021, Sedona- After an unexpected, but necessary flurry of activity, both online and around Prescott, I set out around Noon, and came up to the southwest corner of this ever-delightful town, to complete another segment of Limekiln Trail, which I have been walking in segments, these past five months.

Today’s route took me from Deer Pass, where I had left off last time, to Dry Creek, a distance of 5 miles, roundtrip. The route primarily follows Forest Service and ranch roads, with Dry Creek Road (FR 9845),leading up the creek’s small, but captivating, ravine. Here, I saw a lone jogger, a few tents in strategic places, and a pair of Shelties, poised and ready to protect their person.

I saw rolling grassland, long white irrigation tubes, people in jeeps and trucks struggling to navigate the rocky canyon road, and a beckoning wall of red rock-off to the northeast. I saw lots of heart-shaped rocks-and a butterfly rock, embedding an inner heart.

It was an inauspicious start, at Deer Pass Trailhead.
It looks like someone from Wickenburg lost their hat.
After a half mile walk along a ranch road, the descent into Dry Creek Ravine began.
A small field of volcanic rock and silt lay at the bottom of the hill.
After passing a few tents and wishing Godspeed to some slow-moving vehicles, I reached Dry Creek.
It was, well, dry. The creekbed is alluring, though, in and of itself.
I walked a bit further up the hill, to my stopping point for the day, from which Red Rock Loop Road is 2.3 miles further, and thus a good parking spot for the next segment, which will bring me back to this spot.
Delights can be small, as well as large, around here, This butterfly-shaped rock reveals its oblong heart.

Regeneration and Reaping

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March 20, 2021-So many times, I have been knocked down and gotten back up-sometimes right away, other times after a fashion. It is a solace that I am far from unique, in that respect. Mohandas Gandhi was knocked down, by a South African policeman, at least half a dozen times, and simply got up-not to attack the officer, but to move along, independently of what anyone in authority thought. The Civil Rights crusaders of the Twentieth Century moved through targeted assassinations, betrayals and studied indifference, to build the framework that has so changed at least the trajectory of social discourse, to an elevated place where hatred is rightly seen as the fruit of ignorance and psychological instability.

My own struggles pale in comparison to those faced by so many, across the globe. The best of those, especially the indigenous people in so many countries, have withstood centuries of degradation, squalour and deprivation of human dignity-only to spring up anew, and lend their life learning to the betterment of some of the very people who oppressed them. I have learned far more from the First Nations peoples of North America than I ever imparted to their children. African-Americans have imparted a goodly amount of common sense solutions and the importance of maintaining presence, which have gone a long way towards bringing my often convoluted thinking processes in line with what is needed on the ground floor.

South of the Equator, people are getting ready to reap what they have cultivated over the past year- both in terms of agriculture and social action. We, who are north of the Earth’s midsection, are preparing our soil and our societies for another season of productivity. Will we struggle aimlessly, or keep our focus on what will bring relief and power to all concerned?

Say No To Vengeance

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March 19, 2021-

Say no to vengeance, for with it, comes only sorrow. Say yes to reconciliation, the way to a brighter tomorrow.

With vengeance, comes only further bloodshed, as each one wishes to fight back. Reconciliation and forgiveness, do not excuse the wrong, yet show the valour of ending the culture of attack.

Say no to vengeance, with its twists and turns, its innocent victims, whose survivors’ hearts slowly burn. Greet the warmth of reconciliation with its gradual healing. The song of forgiveness with its heartfelt love is appealing!

Set down your weapons, and take up your plowshares, that the dark clouds may part, to a sky calm and fair.

His Ever-Shining Light

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March 17, 2021- The little boy would always raise his glass, at the dinner table, and call out “Achtung”! He had seen John Banner’s character, Sergeant Schultz, give that command on “Hogan’s Heroes”, and it seemed appropriate for making a toast.

He was fourteen years my junior, but never saw me as any better than he. I was, in fact, one of his favourite wrestling partners, and when I “let” him pin me, he’d say, “Oh yeah?” and pin me even more tightly.

There were things he, in fact, grasped, that the rest of us had to think about a good while longer: Mom and Dad were the most important people on Earth; Medication, which in his case was constantly being switched and adjusted, was the bane of human existence-especially when it failed to prevent, and sometimes aggravated, the seizures that truly were the bane of his existence; There was nothing more important than a bear hug; There was never any excuse for anyone belittling another.

Brian had a limited spoken vocabulary-the seizures took care of that, early on. He was not, however, a stupid person, by any stretch-and managed to call me out, on a number of occasions, for having done something that made absolutely no sense to him. He had his favourite foods- pizza, fried clams and ice cream. When someone would spell out the word p-i-z-z-a, thinking he’d be fooled, my youngest brother’s answer was “OKAY!”. He lost his ability to walk, around the age of seven, which made being pushed in his wheelchair, around the neighbourhood, that much more important-and NOTHING beat going for a ride in the car. He loved seeing new places, but was okay with the beach, the forest preserve, our uncle’s and aunt’s cabin on Cape Cod. He was passionately in love with every girl he ever met. Going to school was the single most important part of his day.

When he passed on, twenty-seven years ago, today, Brian John Boivin had won the hearts of hundreds of people: Workers in the Special Needs schools of Massachusetts; attendants in the hospitals where he spent the last decade of his life; our second cousins, who were his sitters, when Mom and Dad went out for the evening, after we had all grown and left the nest; the cross street neighbours, who were his godparents; and most importantly, all of us who learned from him just what is most important in life.

Brian defined the adults each of his siblings became. For that, we can only repay him, by holding fast to the values which our parents imparted, and he underscored.

The Bridge Lady

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March 14, 2021- Throughout history, change for the better has been orchestrated by both people adopting a progressive stance and by those taking a prudent, conservative view, whilst remaining open to new ways of doing things.

Annie Dodge was born in 1910, to a traditional Navajo family. Her father, Chee Dodge, was the last man to hold the position of Chief of the Navajo Tribe. He became the first Chairman of the Navajo Tribe-first of the Navajo Business Council (1922-28) and later, of the Navajo Tribal Council (1942-46). Chee was a shrewd businessman, amassing a fair amount of wealth, whilst maintaining a strong sense of Navajo tradition. As such, he lived in a hogan-based camp and had three wives, the third of whom was Annie’s mother, Mary Begaye.

Annie, and her five siblings were raised in the traditional Dineh manner-learning to herd sheep, practice Dineh medicine and honour their maternal and paternal clan structures. At the same time, Chee saw to it that all of his children learned the ways of the wider world. Annie took a conservative view of politics, becoming a lifelong member of the Republican Party. The event that shaped the course of her life, however, was the Influenza Pandemic of 1918-19. Because of her having suffered a mild case of the disease, from which she developed immunity, Annie became interested in Public Health. She earned a doctorate in that discipline, and worked diligently to improve the lives of the Dineh people, over a span of fifty years. She served three terms on the Navajo Tribal Council, at one point running against, and defeating, George Wauneka, the man she married.

George and Annie remained a strong couple, regardless. Annie always regarded the men around her as her partners, never as her overlords. The strong Dineh matrilineal system helped in that regard, as did her parents’ commitment to their daughter’s education and well-being-and Mary’s fierce independence from her husband.

Annie’s greatest legacy was the improvement in the overall public health of the Navajo Nation. She broadcast a weekly radio program, in the Navajo language, carefully explaining modern medical practices and techniques to her fellow Dineh. She pushed for better well-woman and well-baby practices, regular ear and eye examinations; a strong campaign against tuberculosis and alcoholism; for vaccinations against polio, chicken pox, smallpox and measles/mumps/rubella, as well as improvements in sanitation and housing.

Annie continued her father’s work of bridging the gap between traditional Navajo life and the wider American society. She was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, by President Lyndon Johnson, in December, 1963, becoming the first Native American to receive this honour. In 1984, the Navajo Tribal Council designated Dr. Annie Dodge Wauneka “The Legendary Mother of the Navajo Nation”. Upon her death, in 1997, she was enshrined in the National Women’s Hall of Fame, in Seneca Falls, NY.

Annie Dodge Wauneka’s life work is a shining example that one can hold traditional, conservative views and make a strong contribution to the improvement of the surrounding community. The key is always keeping an open mind and heart.

International Women’s Day

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March 8, 2021- I look out the window, this lovely afternoon, and see buds tentatively clinging to the trees. They seem to sense that the late winter storm, forecast for Thursday through Saturday, is on its way. They will survive, and will show themselves more fully with the warming temperatures of next week.

Women, worldwide, face the tempests of lingering resistance by many men-and some women, to the recognition that there is nothing to fear from assertive womanhood. There is always a residual feeling, among some of my fellows, that if power is shared, then power is lost. This impacts everything from voter registration among people of colour to the presence of women in fields of work traditionally set aside for men. There is nothing wrong with a woman choosing to fulfill the traditional role of stay-at-home mother, as long as it is her choice.

On this International Women’s Day, we see that just about every field of endeavour is now open to all, regardless of sex. Women in firefighting, auto mechanics, the building trades and in a variety of sports have had tough rows to hoe. Male physicians have even put up some resistance to regarding female colleagues as equals, as have men engaged throughout the sciences.

The bar of performance is sometimes raised higher for women, in nontraditional fields, as a passive- aggressive way of discouraging their participation. Thankfully, it has by and large not worked. Women, in any given profession and trade, are as competent as men-and do their level best to contribute meaningfully to their chosen field. There are always those not individually suited to a particular job, but this has nothing inherently to do with gender.

May the advancement of women, in all fields, long continue.

Estrangers

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March 7, 2021- This morning, after ten years of my being a member, in good standing, of a veterans’ service organization, the matter of my Faith was raised-specifically that I am viewed by some, who I have known and with whom I’ve gotten along well for this past decade, as a “non-Christian”.

The context of this was with regard to a request that I serve again as the organization’s Chaplain, a post I held, with a good record of service and with no complaints registered, for two years, prior to embarking on several years of extensive travel. That latter stream of activity is set to resume in July of this year, and for that reason, I am declining the above request. An officer in a service organization needs to stay put-even in the days of Zoom and Microsoft Teams.

The larger issue here is that there is a shrinkage of the social circle of many people, partly a result of the political mayhem that has been afoot in this country, across the spectrum, for the past dozen years-if not longer, and partly because of a rising false narcissism, rooted in fear. Those I joined for breakfast, nearly each Sunday that I was in town, for the past ten years, have taken to talking only among themselves and shoving everyone else, including yours truly, to the sidelines. A culture of estrangement has taken root, which can only be detrimental to those who profess belief in the Paragon of Love. That embracing of parochialism has, from what I’ve seen in the past, only led to bitterness.

I cannot, and will not, turn aside from my Heavenly Father, in the name of a label. I cannot, and will not, let “estrangers” define who I am. So, with all prayer and loving regard for the members of said service organization, it’s time to move on.

Much Obliged?

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March 6, 2021- This morning, one of my dearest friends invited me to a small gathering, set for tomorrow afternoon, with the caveat that I should not feel an obligation to attend. I am delighted to receive the invitation, and the last thing I think is that it is an imperative.

This set me to thinking: How many actual things in life are an obligation? There are relatively few, and virtually all are role-dependent. Many of us have heard it said, “The only things sure in this life are death and taxes.” For some, only the first is regarded as certain.

The word obligation often brings the image of something one does only while kicking and screaming. I will have to say this, with regard to my own life, at present: I do what I do, only out of love-Love of God. If one loves God, then one loves His creatures. So, as a parent-I take whatever time my son, and by extension my daughter-in-law (and in the future, their children) ask of me. As a citizen, I obey the laws of any community, state(province) or nation in which I find myself. As a member of any group, I contribute to the ideas, needs and agendas of the gathering-whether it is family, Faith-based, civic or charitable.

All of what I am presently doing is something of my choice. So, there is only one “obligation”, if you will. That is to keep my word. That said, I am going to bring this post to a close, as I have promised another friend that I will visit her shop, for a special event. It will also be a delightful time.

Transitions

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March 5, 2021, Phoenix- She took her last breath, ten years ago this morning. She was still warm to the touch, as I walked to the side of her bed, having arrived three minutes too late for a real-time goodbye. Yet, when I had awakened, an hour before, in our home of eight years, the bedroom we had shared was filled with a very heavy energy, the likes of which I have not experienced before or since. At the hospice site, our son and I were greeted by an upwardly swirling of dust, on an otherwise still morning.

Today, I returned to the gravesite I have visited so many times, this past decade. This time, I sat for the better part of an hour, praying and meditating. There was a couple looking for a loved one’s grave, which turned out to be on the other side of the cemetery. Otherwise, I was in solitude with the spirit of my spouse of twenty-nine years.

Penny has long since transitioned to a better place. I am still in transition to being a better person. In this past ten years, I have broken trust three times, been called out for it, almost immediately and learned to do better. I have had my integrity, with regards to how I view women, called into question and after initially taking umbrage at the criticism, done a deep dive into exactly how change was in order. It has been well worth the soul search. While I am still peripatetic at my core, being part of a community is more essential to me, than it had been in years past.

I had a groundswell of support, during the five months after Penny’s transition. It was ironic that some of those who were warm with their words, immediately afterward, were later so vicious in their attacks. They have long since vanished from my life. Family members are there, when I need them, and I, when they need me, Mostly, though, the contacts are short and sweet-and their lives don’t intertwine with mine so much any more. It is partly physical distance; partly the fullness of each others’ lives-and it may well change, as time goes on and disease abates. It is my core of friends, who also ebb and flow with their presence, who keep me honest and forging onward.

Today ends one decade of living transition and begins another. I wonder, as to how it might feel to be an octogenarian, in 2031. In the meantime, there is much on which to work and life from which to learn.