No Abyss Needed

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December 20, 2016, Prescott-

Today was either a day of mourning,

if one sees oppression and catastrophe ahead;

a day of rejoicing, if one sees opportunity to prosper,

or to return to old ways of looking at the world;

or, as it was for me, a day when the imperative,

of seeing one’s perceived adversaries as like unto

oneself, has become manifest.

In a few short days, I will bid farewell

to another old soldier,

whose interment will take place,

two days before Christmas.

Then, it will be time

to listen to the Divine,

in another group setting,

as we Baha’is gather

in consultation and spiritual discovery,

for the thirty-second consecutive

Christmas season.

I’m close to finishing

“The Tenth Insight”,

a novel of intense

spiritual energy,

of visions

of Armageddon,

of Rapture,

of Afterlife.

Much will happen,

in those regards.

I believe, though,

that we need not

leap into an abyss

of self-doubt.

We need not

head backward,

into a jungle of despair.

Our journey,

of true togetherness,

may cast a bridge

across the widest gulfs.

It is a matter

of free will.

A Progressive Rogue

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December 17, 2016, Prescott- 

I regard myself as a progressive.  There is only one way to real progress, though, in my view.  That is, for everyone to roll up their sleeves, get a given job done, and not be concerned with WHO ELSE is on the team, or in the relay line, so long as each person is carrying his or her weight.

I was on a team, this morning, whose collective task was to empty a storage yard of holiday wreaths.  We had about a thousand wreaths, most of which were in boxes of six.  Our team, of ten men and one woman, loaded the boxes and loose wreaths onto any of three trucks.  The trucks then brought their loads up to a staging area, in Prescott Memorial Cemetery, where others took the wreaths and placed them at each of a thousand or so gravesites, as part of Wreaths Across America, which honours our departed veterans, each Christmas season.  The team members did not stop for a minute, until the job was done.  Yes, it was cold(18-25 F), but so was shoveling snow, back in Saugus, Deerfield and Bangor, in my earlier days.  As the project director said, when we first gathered for assignments, the men and women whose graves we honoured did not flinch, for convenience’s sake.

I left the site, after our job was finished, and went over to another place, where 45 women, men and children were putting Christmas baskets and backpacks together, for homeless veterans and disadvantaged families.  My jobs were to sort donated groceries into food types, sort empty backpacks into piles, by colour and size, and then help fill twenty backpacks, with donated clothing, safety implements, toiletries and stationery. Once again, each of us worked with the others, across lines of ideology, gender and age, with no regard for differences.

These two events, no doubt, had their counterparts, by the thousands, across the country, and around the world.  We do them, as part of our community loves, on a daily basis, some of us more than others, but each according to his/her own talents and time allowances.

I  went to see “Rogue One:  A Star Wars Story”, last night, in our very comfortable, and inexpensive, Picture Show Theater.  The plot told of a young woman who grows up, a de facto orphan, learning the self-reliance and self-discipline that such a state of affairs imparts.  She trusts few, having been abandoned by her father, and betrayed by two competing groups of tyrants.  The rest is up to anyone, wishing to see the film, to find out for themselves.

I have had to go it alone, several times, in life and I’m sure this will happen again.  Being “rogue”, however, doesn’t mean that one should lose sight of the greater challenge facing humanity.  We are here, I believe, to care for one another with enormous passion.  My opus, gladly engaged, is caring for others with an ever-decreasing regard for my own comfort.  Yes, my “job”, in the eyes of family members, is to take care of myself, and I have that one down, pretty well.  That said, people and their chronic issues will not go away by themselves.  Progress means that the problems of society are to be remediated systematically, or not at all.  It means we do this together, and get over our differences.

Deserving

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December 16, 2016, Prescott-

Today was long,

because of wind, and rain.

Two of our boys fought us,

tooth and nail,

over the tests the class took.

Self- determining a curriculum

is something that

requires inner discipline.

Our students don’t

exactly  have that,

in spades.

I overheard a girl

saying that one

of the boys

likes every girl

in the school.

She said he was named

for an angel,

but couldn’t pass for one.

I think every girl

deserves to be liked.

As with boys,

that liking should

be for who she is inside,

and for her dreams.

As with boys,

girls need to know

they are surrounded

by unconditional love and encouragement.

How is it that doesn’t go without saying?

Double Twelfth

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December 12, 2016, Prescott-

Waking came earlier than I wanted,

on this Double Twelfth.

I felt a sense of trepidation,

not knowing what lay in store,

on this Double Twelfth.

Nonetheless,

my routine proceeded,

and I connected with the world,

in the early darkness,

of this Double Twelfth.

Prayers came before

morning newspaper;

seems I was not the only

awkward riser,

on this Double Twelfth.

My boys had a good day,

overall, though,

glad that I  stayed

the course of learning,

for each of them,

on this Double Twelfth.

The sun set, brilliantly,

and I indulged in hot lentil soup,

before my forty-minute workout,

ending this Double Twelfth.

Sixty-Six, for 66, #1: Icons

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December 10, 2016, Prescott- I spent the afternoon culling items from my clothes racks and getting rid of luggage, as well as other stuff for which I have no need. The dockman at the local Domestic Violence Prevention agency’s thrift store asked if I were giving up travel.  No, sir, but I am giving up traveling with large luggage.   It all has to fit in a backpack and a light handcart, which I will purchase in the Spring.

Now, on to the subject at hand:  What makes an icon, and does anyone deserve the title?

The second question is answered in a word:  “No”.  We all, at various times, have feet of clay.  I have had those moments, most notably for virtually the entirety of my 20’s, intermittently during my 50’s and the last time, in summer, 2013.

Many of us need iconic figures, though.  Historical personages of this sort, abound:  Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, JFK, Ronald Reagan- each of whom has been yanked off the pedestal by one group or another.  Sports figures come and go, and seem to have shorter shelf lives as icons, than do the above- although flesh and blood heroes, like Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Arthur Ashe and Muhammad Ali, have survived dethroning and controversy and withstood the test of scrutiny.

Icons come to mind for me, at this particular time, because of the passing, on Thursday, of John Glenn and the centenary, on Friday, of Kirk Douglas.  First, Colonel/Senator Glenn:  He would have been enough of a role-model, for his service to the U.S. during World War II, alone.  In the 1960’s, though, every astronaut was larger than life, in the eyes of we who were in Middle School and High School.  The magic of Space was being peeled back, and we were seeing that the likes of Alan Shepard and John Glenn were, indeed, going where no man had gone before- and that the Moon was well within Mankind’s grasp. John Glenn remained the Clean Marine, throughout two decades of service in politics, as well.  No doubt, some will dish dirt on him; no one’s perfect after all, save Those sent directly from God.  My guess, though, is that he, too, will stand the test of time, as a genuine hero.

Kirk Douglas at 100: His life, like that of many others in the film arts, has had its share of scrutiny, tragedy and suffering.  His roles, though, have been varied and astonishing- from Spartacus to Van Gogh.  For us boys in the period of Camelot, his performances defined manliness- both in appearance and in spirit.  How many times did I stand in front of a mirror, and deliver terse rhetoric, with my jaw and chest thrust out?

His true greatness, though, has come with a fair recovery from his stroke, of twenty years ago.  He showed no compunction about being videotaped and photographed, as is, at Friday’s commemorative event.  I can only aspire to such a total lack of vanity, and wish him as many years more,as his quality of life permits.  His final words to the media, on Friday, were:  “I’ll give another interview, when I turn 200.”  That’d be a marvel.

Let’s honour, and treasure, the tall ones among us, while not seeking to either exalt them beyond their levels of stamina or cut them down, out of a desperate urge to level the field.

Turtle Island

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December 5, 2016, Prescott-  Native Americans have always been deep in my heart.  Even before I learned, at age ten, that my paternal grandmother had distant ties to the Penobscot people, of Maine,  there was a closeness that I felt to those who have been here in the Americas, since the last Great Shaking.

I have always loved traditional drumming, the stories that get told at ceremonies around a communal fire and the concept of family being the core of one’s being.  So, it has been a source of great comfort, to see the U.S. Government making more effort to address the legitimate concerns of those who have stood firm against the idea of running an oil pipeline under the Missouri River.  If it’s that crucial, run it elsewhere, away from the river, and the Ogallala Aquifer, which serve not only the Standing Rock Lakota people, but all those downstream- and beyond St. Louis.

I know that many indigenous people have lost their way, and do not, as individuals, represent the spirit of their traditional beliefs.  Neither do  many of the descendants of those who came here from other parts of the world.  The fact remains that there are core beliefs, as to how to address the stewardship of Mother Earth.  Many people regard the northern three-quarters of the North American continent as Turtle Island, as there is a legend that the whole of the world’s landmass, and especially North America, are supported on the back of a turtle.  It is said that the human race is like the turtle, in that we only make progress by sticking out our necks.  Staying inside our collective shells, i.e. comfort zones, gets no one anywhere.

I am proud of all my distant relations for having stood so valiantly, and truthfully, for the good of all.

Always Welcome

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November 27, 2016, Banning- I am fortunate to find many places, to which I can return, no matter how long it’s been since I have stopped by.  One such is Gramma’s Country Kitchen, in this small, but pleasant city along I-10, east of Riverside.  The decor reminds me of both my Godmother’s kitchen, when I was a child, and various places in which I’ve stopped in the Midwest, over the years.  The owners and waitresses always seem to remember me, from previous visits and the place just feels like home.

My son’s place, in Chula Vista feels likewise, it goes without saying.  It will be strange to go to San Diego, after February, and not have him there to visit.  He will be doing other tasks, in his next duty station, though, and I will continue to feel pride in his achievements.  We had a quiet, but comfortable, visit, over Thanksgiving and will have a few days together, here and there, between now and the time he heads out.

I got back, easily, to Prescott, and it will be a busy, fruitful month ahead- with work for both the Prescott schools and my Faith occupying a great deal of time.  Needless to say, there are plenty of places here, where I likewise always feel welcome.  At the end of this week, for example, the town’s Christmas tree will be lit and all of us in attendance will feel an abundance of welcome, from one another.

As I will write tomorrow, I personally will welcome another year to my chronology:  66. Hope all are rested from a joyful Thanksgiving!

 

Unwitting Problem Solver

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November 22, 2016, Prescott-  

We had a two-day work week and, as ever, many children were wound-up, in advance of the Thanksgiving holiday.  Some were excited because of a good time ahead.  Others were agitated, because of the harrowing conditions, or sheer boredom, that await them for five days.

A little guy who just wanted to play, while waiting for his bus to completely load, led us to ponder the safety issues that would ensue, were he to just be left to his own devices, during the wait for a student who is released later than our class.

The answer was obvious, and our students’ time in the classroom will be increased, starting Monday.   Since they are more comfortable in the classroom than they are sitting at the bus dock, I anticipate a decline in the agitation and ennui that have been surfacing, in ways that only unsettled children can express.

This leads me to again draw the conclusion that listening, even to the most seemingly counter-intuitive ideas, can bring a surprisingly simple solution.  The boy in question will be praised as a big helper, when school resumes on Monday.

Creative

6

November 13, 2016, Prescott-

Yesterday, I contented myself with walking along an old BLM service road- going up and down a couple of moderately steep hills, for the sake of maintaining stamina.  It worked, and among other things, I slept very soundly. Today, a couple of short hikes, a visit with a couple of disabled veterans, and two meals with small groups of friends, filled the day nicely.

 

More importantly:  Thirty years ago, today, a bundle of creativity came into this world.  He has never ceased to amaze us, his extended family, with his repertoire of novelty.  Now, in order to more fully extend the range of his film-making, he has established residence in Los Angeles. I look forward to seeing more of his work, in various film festivals.  It is indeed just a matter of time before his name and face are recognizable.

Creativity has brought an enormous passel of what makes life worth all that we must endure.  If necessity is the mother of invention, certainly ingenuity is its midwife.  I look forward to what’s next.

Bringing people together, takes the greatest degree of creativity.

 

Harvest Day

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October 10, 2016, Chula Vista-

All Canada offers thanks,

for a successful harvest.

Canadian Thanksgiving

is a true celebration

of the farmers’ fruition.

It has ever been a rejoinder

to the Columbus Day tradition.

First Nations people, across the nation

would gather to honour the Holy People

and the Creator,

for all that was given them

to stave off deprivation.

The Europeans across the north,

tried to snuff out many traditions,

in the name of “civilization”.

What they meant by “civilized’ were things like

private property, walls, fences and speaking

one of two European languages.

Harvest, and sharing, made the cut, though.

Love is one thing, no one can long disparage.

Happy Thanksgiving, Canada!