Marching On

1

January 21, 2017, Prescott- I was delighted by the snow that fell, this morning.  It was just enough to make everything lovely and to give me two hours of exercise.  Whilst shoveling, I noted that it was close to time for the Women’s March to take place, downtown.  I finished clearing the walk, for the sake of my neighbour, a disabled woman, who is wheelchair-bound and needs a clear path, at least three times a week.  I then took a rest, and thought very happy thoughts about the sky having cleared, for the marchers and for those with other business.  If someone chose to march today, God bless her.  If someone made other uses of their time, as long as (s)he hurt no one- God bless her, too.

Women and girls have lighted my world, from as far back as I can remember.  The most powerful woman I have ever known, has never marched or staged a public protest a day in her life.  She raised five of us, with two special needs children (my youngest brother and me) as bookends of her parenting.  She is a ferocious liberal, who loved her conservative husband with all her heart, and loves/ abides  three moderately conservative children (my beloved siblings), and me-the gadfly.  Her motherhood took the lion’s share of her life’s work, but does not define her.

The most beloved woman in my life, now departed, would have gladly taken part in today’s march, but would never have turned her back on basic values of respect and validation for those with opposing points of view.  She loved her ultraconservative father, even when his social comments broke her heart.  She and I would have heated conversations, but not once did they impact our commitment to one another.  She loved being a mother and wife, every bit as much as being a teacher, and a scholar.

I know, and love, thousands of women and girls, of all political/ideological viewpoints, and of no such viewpoints.  Their rights are the same as mine.  Their dreams and aspirations are every bit as valid as those of any man. Their strengths and abilities can only do the world good.  The woman who chooses to be a homemaker, teaches, nurses the sick or cares for others’ children is as valuable, to society, as she who practices law, runs a corporation, repairs motor vehicles or serves in the Armed Forces.  The conservative, who prefers a “traditional” lifestyle, and the progressive, who is in the vanguard of social change, are vital to one another, and would that they see this.  Each is certainly vital, in my world.

It is the nurturing presence, the capacity for bonding and the devotion to others, basic to a human female and expressed in so many ways, that makes standing up, for the well-being of women and girls, so essential.  In whatever way one marches- in serried ranks, two-by-two or singly and alone; publicly, or at home, in one’s own mind; by speaking out  before a crowd or by raising strong people, you, dear one, are making a difference.

March on.

Granger

0

January 19, 2017, Prescott-

Miguel Ferrer died today.  He was well-known for roles in “The Stand”, “Crossing Jordan” and, most recently, “NCIS-Los Angeles”.  The last is where I best knew his work, as the irascible Owen Granger, right-hand man to Unit Director Henrietta Lange (Linda Hunt) and father figure to three of the team members.  I have had a suspicion that Granger was to be written out of the script, (no further spoiler alert), due to Mr. Ferrer’s cancer having taken a turn for the worse, of late.  Now, this is all moot.

In watching television shows, I tend to root for the people in the background, hoping they will come forward and show their strengths.  Granger was an on-screen booster of background players, like Eric Christian Olsen’s Marty Deeks and Renee- Felice Smith’s Nell Jones.  I get the sense that Miguel Ferrer chose this sort of persona, that his own life was spent encouraging young people to play to their hidden strengths, to never sell themselves short.  As this is how I have chosen to spend my own life, his performances have been a well-polished mirror.

RIP, Miguel, and may Owen Granger’s counsel live on.

Numbers

4

January 17, 2017, Prescott- 

Today being 1-17-17, I thought of the significance of single-digit numbers.

Zero holds a place, adds value to its cousins.

One is a beginning, a self-contained unit.

Two is the sign of union, and a springboard for family.

Three means there is a branching out, and a triad is a sign of power.

Four gives a place for all cardinal directions, and so anchors the sacred elements.

Five is a halfway mark, a place to look back and then look forward.

Six is a consummate point, in games of chance, the place at which one may measure self-confidence.

Seven is a a consummate point, in matters of luck, and may impart either bravado or insecurity.

Eight isunity one perfect circle, mounted on another.  It may mean a doubling of energy.

Nine is the point of unity.  No other single number can surpass it.

Sixty for Sixty-Six, Part III: Kudos

4

January 15, 2017, Prescott- 

Last night, 22 of us paid homage to a man who worked, diligently, outside his area of expertise, for thirty-five years, bringing knowledge of human nature and psychological well-being, into the fast food industry.

Farouk “Frank” Assadi came to this country, from Iran, as part of a diaspora spawned by religious oppression.  He lived and worked in Iowa and California, before settling in Prescott, around 2000.  His Blimpie Sandwich and Salad Shop, part of a larger chain, was a central focus of meals for many, of all walks of life, for the sixteen years it was in existence.  Before that, he had run Orange Julius franchises and a Blimpie, in another community.  On December 31, Frank took down his food service shingle and will cast his net in another direction, after a period of semi-retired rest.

He’s 70, and thus serves as an inspiration for my own planned change of focus, in 2020.  We, who work for wages, eventually earn the right to follow our hearts into avocation.  For Frank, that will likely mean work in public health.  For me, that will likely mean itinerant acts of service, combined with photography and writing, much as I’m doing during off-work hours now.

My son is visiting the Prescott area, this weekend, combining time with me and a modicum of winter camping, this evening, in a nearby US Forest Service campsite, at White Spar, which I visited last year, in the course of hiking the Prescott Circle Trail, in a series of segments.

He has grown up to build a strong character, somewhat different social and political views from my own, but with the sense of loyalty and work ethic, which I instilled in him, early on.  I know he will continue to be a credit to the United States Navy, and to any other organization he may serve. In a few short weeks, Aram will head for the land of his birth, South Korea, and a new set of challenges and growth opportunities.  I will watch this, proudly, from the sidelines.

In a few days, our nation enters a new phase: Governance by a man whose life has been spent in the private sector.  I trust, though, that the American people will remain vigilant, and will call events as they see them.  I don’t think all that many people, especially in my circle of family and friends, have given the departing president much credit, partly due to his own detached demeanour and  partly due to his having come into office, with an unfamiliar face and name.  I do think, however,that he did a lot more for the country than we can even see at present.  Yet, it is also true that several bars need to be raised.  I will have more to say on these, in the next post.

Mother Miguel Mountain

3

January 3, 2017, Chula Vista-   Whenever I look out the window, from my son’s apartment, the curious sight of Mount San Miguel, in the Otay Range, looms to the southeast. I took advantage of Aram’s being back to work, got up before dawn, and headed over to Mount San Miguel Park, on Chula Vista’s east side.  There was a short wait, of about twenty minutes, as the city park opens at 6 A.M., with decent light about 6:30.

My choice of trails led up Mother Miguel Mountain, to a military commemorative, called Rock House.  Two explanations are in order:  “Mother Miguel” is a mash-up of Madre Grande, which some early settlers from the eastern U.S. took to pronouncing “Mother Grundy”, and San Miguel, the name given to the area by earlier Spanish ranchers;  Rock House is the name given to a rock arrangement which houses two, rather tattered, flags-our national flag and the banner honouring Prisoners-of-War and those Missing-in-Action.  The latter is to be flown, or displayed at meetings of veterans’ service organizations, until the day comes when all such persons, or their identified remains, are honourably interred or cremated on U.S. soil.

My leisurely up and back lasted about three hours, over a round trip of 6.2 miles.  The photos, taken with my phone camera, are not as clear as those taken with the digital, but you will get the idea.20170103_0651391

Here is the trailhead for Mother Miguel, from the east end of Mt. San Miguel Park.20170103_0701591

Above, is a view of the destination, for which I used a series of 22 non-taxing switchbacks.

20170103_0711551

Occasional limestone boulder piles provide a place to sit and contemplate, along the way.

20161106_1303161

Others just dominate their area,  as does this castle-like outcropping.

20170103_0808581

Once atop the modest-sized peak, Mexico looms, to the south, with the San Ysidro district of San Diego, in the foreground.

20170103_081143[1].jpg

Here is Rock House, with its resident banners.

20170103_081252[1].jpg

A second stone arrangement, intended as a circle for contemplation, is found just south of the Rock House.  Sweetwater Reservoir is seen in the distance.

20170103_081328[1].jpg

A third, circular, stone arrangement is a bit more to the south, still, and seems to invite a holistic view of the repatriation process.

20170103_0828011

Off to the east is Mount San Miguel, whose owners SAY they don’t want hikers going to its summit, but do nothing to prevent those few intrepid people,usually military members doing personal training, who make the steep hike up its western slope.

Speaking of which, there were about six others on Mother Miguel Trail, while I was there.  One, a young lady, passed by, as I was taking in the rock arrangements, and went to the southernmost point on the summit.  After she had returned from her moments of solitude, and headed on down the mountain, I went to that point, and found a commemorative bench.

20170103_0830342

There is, indeed, nothing that replaces a sense of home.  I hope that she felt comforted, and reassured, by this message.

The way down had me thinking, somehow, of just how vital the two youngest generations are, and will continue to be, to the well-being of our nation, and of our planet, as a host of problems, heretofore unfaced, will present themselves, over the next decade or so.  I guess the energy of the young runners and hikers, along with the industrial views of the area to the west and north of the park, set this thought in motion.  Like all previous such times of challenge, humanity will prevail, by working together.  There is no other choice.

20170103_0940242

The rocks remain, and patiently look upon us.

 

Looking Back- Part 2

2

December 31, 2016, Chula Vista- As the Year of Upended Routines winds down, and has already passed, in the areas immediately west of the International Date Line, I find it meet and seemly to give 2016 its due.

The goodness of it all:  I was embraced by Prescott Unified School District, and brought into a position where positive differences can be made, in the lives of troubled children.

One car served me well, then died, on the road.  Two members of my family stepped up, got the first car through its final duties and the next car into my possession.  Thankfully, I am able to repay these kindnesses, in full.

It was an amazing series of  visits, with friends in Amarillo, Enid (OK), Columbia (MO), Indianapolis, Oley (PA), Knoxville, Boulder (CO) and Dana Point (CA); family in Avila (MO), Saugus and Wakefield (MA),  Newnan (GA), Brooksville (FL) and Loveland (CO)- to say nothing of my Baha’i family in Carson City and Reno, and all who nourish and support me, throughout Arizona.  Most important of all, though, is the strength and constancy of my closest:  Mom and siblings, in Massachusetts, brother, in Georgia, in-laws, in Florida and son, here in southern California, but soon to be in Korea, the land of his birth.

The warmth of new friends, in Fallon and Pioche (NV), Fort Sumner (NM), Ponca City (OK), Salina and Hays (KS),Florissant (MO), Wilmette (IL), Francesville and Kokomo (IN), Bedford and Bushkill (PA), Port Jervis and Middletown (NY), Newtown and Danbury (CT), Martinsburg (WV), Harrisonburg (VA), Register (GA), Chattanooga, Nashville, Marion (IL) a Colorado Springs and Mancos (CO) just reinforces my belief that there is a universal love, which only needs to be tapped and nurtured.

How blessed the natural beauty of the forests, deserts, plains and mountains that gave me solace, this year:  Prescott Circle Trail, which brought the totality of my adopted home into focus; Black Canyon National Recreation Trail, which transcends Arizona’s Central Highlands and the northern reaches of the Sonoran Desert; Arcosanti, an intriguing blend of ancient desert rock, seasonal water flow and nouveau architecture; Juniper Mesa, a stand-alone promontory, which once sheltered Yavapai warriors; the shimmering lakes above Zion National Park, a reminder that the Earth is a changing creation, which will outlive us, despite our illusions to the contrary; the tall grass prairie outside Boonville, MO, a fine place to just lie down and think of childhood days, spent in the grasses of summer; Bushkill Falls, PA, as amazing and comforting to me, on a cool, drizzly July day,as it was to my parents-in-law on their honeymoon, in the winter of early 1949, and on so many wedding anniversaries, thereafter; Lake Redwine, and Serenbe, GA, which brought family together, and  help to keep my Georgia relatives so well-grounded.

How eternally comforting it is, to visit the Baha’i House of Worship, in Wilmette, and to gather with my fellows-in-faith, at Baha’i Centers in Phoenix and Scottsdale, as well as the Marriott Desert Ridge Resort.

So,many thanks, 2016. There were breathtaking changes, coming from all this, and from the winds sweeping our nation and planet.  These will impact me, along with everyone else, in the next few years; stay tuned.

 

Portraits from A Year Gone By

2

December 31, 2016, Chula Vista- I am taking the readership on a brief journey back, with one photo from each month, that sums up the month, for me.  So, let’s begin.

January-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Pharaoh’s Face, with a barrel cactus keeping watch, south of the Agua Fria River, Black Canyon City

 

February-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Sunset, over Goldwater Lake

March-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Small pond, Banning Creek, northwest of Goldwater Lake

April-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Quartz Mountain, north of Copper Basin

May-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Granite Mountain, Prescott

June-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Cathedral Gorge, Pioche, NV

July-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Lake Redwine, Newnan, GA

August-

download

Kayla Mueller, who was killed in Syria.  This is not my photo, but symbolizes the month of August, as I took no photos of my own, and the sacrifices of some Americans, in the fight against terrorism became front and center.

September-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

View of Santa Maria Mountains, from Juniper Mesa

October-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Monarch butterflies, in Agua Fria watershed

November-

30830719765_dfdc00678d

Agua Fria Fort, off Little Pan Trail, Table Mesa region

December-

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

White Christmas 2016, Prescott

So went the Year That The Common Man roared and I continued to explore.

 

 

Relections on Noel, 2016

3

December 25, 2016, Phoenix-  I had thought I might be getting out of snow-shoveling this year, but it didn’t turn out that way. No matter- I made do with four hours of sleep, before heading back down here for the final day of Grand Canyon Baha’i Conference.

There was a rather intense seminar on communication between us and those who have gone on.  I have had plenty of messages from Penny, and from other relatives, over the past several years, and was visited by my maternal grandmother, not long after she passed away.  Dabbling in the psychic, which is discouraged by Baha’u’llah, in His Writings, is quite another matter. This presentation was quite informative, however, with regard to the power of concentrated energy.

I also attended a presentation on children in community life, and was confirmed in my own position:  People of all ages deserve to be included in the life of the community, and encouraged in their pro-social dreams and aspirations.  Noting that traditional societies, most familiar to me being Native Americans, have long practiced the full involvement of children in community life, the group concluded this was key to rebuilding society.

I went to the west side of town, to visit some friends.  A couple and their granddaughter were home, so I gave the girl a copy of Abby Wize:  AWAKE”, by Lisa Bradley.  She is very loving to animals, and the story is about a girl who loves horses, so I think it will go well with her.  My other friend was still at a church service, so I rescheduled to see him next week.  Dinner was at a customary place- Mandarin Super Buffet, in the heart of Phoenix.  It was packed, as Chinese restaurants often are, on Christmas night.  The food was fresh and hot, so I was again delighted by Mandarin’s varied and hearty fare.

I had intended to attend a concert, back at the Conference site.  Concert time, however, found me in an intense and wide-ranging conversation with a much-admired mentor, of many years.  As he remarked, when it was time for us to leave:  “There will be other concerts.”

Lastly, it was much easier to get onto my street, and in the house, this evening.  Hope you each had a joyous Christmas.

Oh, The Whiteness!

4

December 24, 2016, Prescott- I drove down to Phoenix, early this morning, for a day at Grand Canyon Baha’i Conference. It’s so -named because of being located in the Grand Canyon State, every year, around Christmas.  As many of you know, we Baha’is do not observe Christmas, per se, so this event gives a festive air for those,especially Persian refugees, who have no Christmas traditions of their own.  Nonetheless, we do wish Christians a Merry Christmas, and greatly appreciate the joy of this season.

A memorable presentation, this morning, dealt with the common patterns which are found throughout the Universe, and within living things.  Swirls, circles, triangles, hearts and star shapes are among the more common patterns.  It’s ever-fascinating to observe both these patterns and those which remind us of common daily features (Horsehead Nebula, for example), in many parts of our world, and in the Universe-at- large.

After a couple of other sessions, in the afternoon, and an evening of thoughtful musical presentations, about the need for finding common ground, while standing firm in our values, I realized that it would be essential for me to head back up here, as the snow, while not preventing my drive home, would be a nuisance for my neighbours in the complex, who are not physically able to shovel out.

I made it back up, in about 2 1/2 hours.  There were no road delays, but when I got to my street, I found it hadn’t been plowed yet. It took some pushing from three kind men, a bit of maneuvering back and forth and a helpful policeman, standing watch for any oncoming traffic, but I got my car parked in a temporary spot on the street.  My emergency permit lasts until 10 A.M., tomorrow, so I will need to get up early and shovel like crazy.

Here’s what we face, on our first white Christmas in years.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Merry Christmas, everyone!

 

Transitioning

4

December 22, 2016, Prescott- 

My new supervisor came to call, this afternoon.  She informed us of some fundamental changes, aimed at further empowering our students.  I will have a freer hand, in both teaching our most vulnerable student, individually, and in working with the most advanced student, more on his own terms.

This is the thing about incremental change.  It is most effective when there is common ground, and ways are found to meet the needs of all.  That means there must be lack of greed, and a recognition that there is a place for the highest and the lowest, alike. One can’t denigrate the other.

I want to see this for the nation as a whole, and then the planet as an entity.  It broke my heart to see suffering in declining cities like Zanesville and Allentown, just as much as it did to view  the despair of people in Ferguson, MO, during my travels of the past summer. I care as much for those living on the edge in Appalachia and the Ozarks, as for my friends in Navajo, Hopi, Ute Mountain, Standing Rock and Pine Ridge.  Extend this to the west and center of Asia,to Rakhine, to the heart of Africa, the favelas and barrios of Latin America, to the camps and ghettos of Europe, and you get the picture.

Each of us can make the transition stronger.  We just have to be consistent, and united.