May 12, 2025, Exton, PA- I stopped at a “New York-style” restaurant, in Vernon, CT, while en route from Saugus to this western Philadelphia suburb that is a third anchor for my sibling family. The place was beyond packed, almost reminding me of the old Jack and Marion’s, in Boston. This was the first place I’ve been in a long while, where the lunch line was practically out the door. I took my Reuben sandwich to go, and enjoyed half in the car. The rest will be tomorrow’s lunch.
Urban delicatessens, especially New York and Chicago styles, are centered primarily on kosher, or traditional Jewish foods. The quality of the meats and cheeses has an appeal far beyond those adhering to the dietary instructions of Judaism. Kosher has come to mean correct, present with integrity, “doing what you say”.
We live in a very precise age, and the slightest slip-up can bring down a host of criticism, some of it well-intended, other meant to make the critic feel better about self, by focusing on a flawed other. I have learned that indulging in criticism, however, will invariably bring the “three fingers pointing back at you” of Hindu lore. Being truly “kosher”, in one’s daily life, is best served by being the one finger that points at self, and doing the requisite self-examination.
I ended the day by visiting with my middle sibling and his wife, for a short time, over dinner here in Exton. Thus, all three of my visits with siblings were pleasant, with meals as backdrops. The next few days will focus on friends. My relationships with all are “kosher”.
May 11, 2025, Saugus, MA- In the end, my plan to take the rocking chair left by my mother when she passed away last year ended up a bust. The structure of Sportage was the main issue-the bar supporting the back storage privacy screen cannot be removed. It is a design flaw of the 2020 models, and is generally not an issue. It was, this time, but the chair is in good hands.
I spent a few minutes graveside this morning, then joined my brother and sister-in-law for a Mother’s Day lunch. It was held at a steak house, which Mom would have enjoyed. Some traditions continue and others are newly established. I like to think the steak house lunch is a bit of both. Time was that Hilltop Steak House was the place to go. It closed and was re-developed into a mixed use collection of residences and small shops. Across the highway, though, is Jimmy’s Steer House, an equally fine establishment. That was our lunch venue today.
After three days of rain, the skies were clear and it was shirtsleeve weather. This was fitting for honouring the people who have kept the human race going, for at least a million years. The first woman was probably not called Eve; she may not even have had a name. Language would have come well after human consciousness arose. The maternal instinct, though, has been passed up from some fairly simple animals to us, the highest form of earthly life.
I have recently been told that, in a certain person’s view, everything that I am today is because of the government. The state has little to do with who I am, though. That honour goes quite strongly to my parents, especially to Mom, who did so much for the five of us. Without her roadmaps and admonitions, my father’s work of keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table would have been next to impossible. It is because of her that “adulting”, for me, is less of a burden, and is in fact a joy.
I will leave this hometown of mine tomorrow, heading first to Pennsylvania to family and friends there, then on to Virginia and Tennessee for brief visits with other friends and to Texas, for a few days with my little family. Mom’s spirit will stay with me, as will Penny’s, and each leg of the journey ahead will be safe.
Safety and guidance are the pillars of a mother’s love.
May 10, 2025, Salem, NH- About a month ago, Hiking Buddy and I were talking about the petroglyphs of Williamson Valley. She mentioned about the existence of a site in southern New Hampshire where documented pre-Columbian standing stones, with some verified inscriptions of Celtic and possibly Phoenician origin had been found. I know there have been similar sites in Minnesota that have been investigated and debunked, but this one had more of a ring of truth to it. I made a promise to myself to check out the site that was once called Mystery Hill.
Today brought that chance, and after enjoying lunch with my sister and brother-in-law, I headed up I-495, to New England’s other Salem. The town was a staple of my childhood, with visits to my mother’s sister and her family, and an annual summer gathering at Canobie Lake Park. I stopped briefly at the north end of the lake, which is a water supply for the area. Fishing is plentiful, but as one might guess, swimming is not allowed. We mainly picnicked and enjoyed the small amusement park.
North side of reservoir, Canobie Lake, Salem, NH
America’s Stonehenge, as Mystery Hill is now called, was a gathering site for Pawtucket First Nations people, themselves a branch of the Penacook Confederacy, which held sway across a wide swath of New Hampshire, Vermont, northern Massachusetts and western Maine, for hundreds of years before European settlement. The Pawtuckets themselves lived in an area from what is now Fitchburg (north central Massachusetts) to Saugus and Lynn, on the Atlantic Coast. Their central community was at what is now Lowell.
Pawtucket First Nation history
The area itself was farmed by the Pattee family, from the late Eighteenth Century until around 1900. Seth Pattee attempted to turn the property into a quarry for building stone, around the time of the Civil War. His son ended that practice and worked to preserve the area, having gleaned its cultural and historical heritage. This preservation began in earnest, with the research of William Goodwin, in the 1930s. When Robert Stone took over the property in 1958, he and his son, Dennis, saw the value in enlisting public support. The Stone family has been working hard, since 1958, to increase public awareness of the connections between peoples on both sides of the Atlantic, and that these connections are likely much older than is customarily believed.
The site seems to have been used as a ceremonial area, for marking major yearly astronomical events, such as the Solstices and Equinoxes. These seem to have been marked in a manner more customary for the Celtic peoples of western Europe than for early First Nations peoples of the Americas, and their predecessors. This suggests that there was, at minimum, regular contact between people on both sides of the Atlantic, as far back as 4,000 years ago.
I took several video clips of the trail. Unfortunately, these are too large for the Word Press format, so here are some still photos that accompanied the videos.
East-West Chamber, also called Gallery Grave. This is similar to Celtic structures in Ireland and Brittany.Outdoor stone table, with a small chamber perhaps used as a storage area.This rock, with a faded “eye” , was intended most likely as a watch talisman.
I will continue to look into sharing the video clips via this blog site. In the meantime, here are some resources by which you may learn about this unique site, and its archeo-astronomical importance.
America’s Stonehenge: Souvenir Book Paperback – October 1, 2018
May 8, 2025, Williamsport, PA- From the time I got onto I-80, in Mishawaka to the time I left the road, at the junction with U.S. 15, fifteen miles south of this headquarters city for Little League Baseball, there was virtually nonstop road construction. It resulted in closed lanes, almost every 15-20 miles or so, for a length of 2-3 miles for each segment.
I am told this is one of the major projects that is being funded by Build Back Better, the program that some say is a “left-wing, Green New Deal” boondoggle. Note that this work is focused on shoring up the concrete median, between eastbound and westbound lanes of the Interstate Highway, and fixing guardrails. While it was initiated by Progressives, a better roadway system is in the best interests of anyone who drives, both commercial and recreational. Stopping the work now, or even soon, would not save much, if anything, and would leave remaining fixes undone. While it is inconvenient for those of us driving now, it is best to get the work done before schools let out and families hit the road.
Most of the day was highway-bound. I came upon Ridgeway Inn, just south of downtown Williamsport, around 8 :30 pm. This lovely little motel is managed remotely, but apparently by someone who is close enough that major issues could be addressed readily. Williamsport itself is a clean and, in places, somewhat upscale community, with a strong tourist base that derives from its association with Little League Baseball. Several years ago, one of my nephews was on Saugus, MA’s Little League championship team, which faced against a team from Japan, in the Little League World Series. The Japanese boys won, but Saugus has named a public athletic field as World Series Field. It’s right across a lea from my boyhood home.
For this, and the general ambiance of the city, Willliamsport is another Pennsylvania city that has a place in my heart-along with Bedford, Wilkes-Barre, Exton, Oley and Clarion, to say nothing of Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Harrisburg and York.
May 3, 2025, Phoenix- The comforter on the bed I am borrowing for the evening is Superhero-themed. I am now safe from anything that could threaten the well-being of a six-year-old boy. Since he’s away, this seventy-four-year-old, overgrown kid can expect the same. Monsters and villains, be gone!
Heroes, in real life, come in many shapes, sizes and guises. The people who seem to stand in our way, and keep us from what what we think we might want, will sometimes turn out to be our best friends-and unlikely heroes in our lives. Remember the tale of Majnoon, searching for his beloved Layli (Layla, of the Eric Clapton song). His path was blocked by one or another watchman, until he vaulted himself over a wall-and found her looking fr a ring she had lost.
Heroes can be full of bravado, or they can be ordinary people (as in the Dave Grohl song). They can be constantly in action, in the limelight or just be around-for one day (as in the David Bowie song). Yes, we have been celebrating our deliverers and saviors from time immemorial. From the Epic of Gilgamesh, to the Iliad and Odyssey, the Tales of Hiawatha, Icelandic sagas and stories of the Samurai, all the way to the Marvel and DC characters, we derive much comfort in the idea that someone has our backs.
It is best, though, that we are our own, and one another’s champions. Acting in the interests of each person in our world-starting with ourselves, but not stopping there, can be challenging. The alternative, though, is to let someone else determine the entirety of our existence. That may seem easier, but recall the fates of those who acquiesced to tyrants, throughout history. Were they happier, in the fullness of time? Were their needs met?
Today, in conference with many of my fellow Baha’is, at the Center where Penny and I spent many happy hours, in the often troubled 2000s, I was reminded that “heroism” is hard work and that it is often not intentional, but the result of just putting oneself out there, on behalf of humanity-and of all creation. It most often involves teamwork, and always involves discernment and fortitude.
After our long day of consultation, my host and I joined several old friends, and many youth, in honouring a hard-working college graduate. It was a joy to see people I haven’t seen in fifteen years and to witness how several of them have grown from childhood and become successful adults, in various fields.
May 1, 2025- I woke this morning with a minor headache. After drinking a liter of water, the headache was gone. I greeted the month of May with a renewed sense of purpose. Staying extra-hydrated is a key part of that, as the weather will soon warm up.
As I get ready for a visit back east and down south, over the next 2.5 weeks, there are priorities to be set, but also a need to have a path open to electronically assist those here who contact me by Messenger and IM while I am away. The need to be acknowledged does not stop at the city limits or state line, so I have time to assist some friends who seem to have nowhere else to turn and point them towards those here who can help-and probably be of more help than I am when at Home Base I. For that matter, I have done the same for people in other parts of the country and in other countries, whilst here. That, to me, is one of the prime purposes of the digital realm.
There were about twenty of us who celebrated the Twelfth Day of Ridvan, marking the 162nd anniversary of the departure from Baghdad, by Baha’ullah and his entourage. They would cross the mountains and desert of Anatolia, modern-day Turkey, going by land and sea to what is now Istanbul. It would take them a little over three months. We celebrate, because we know that they made the journey successfully, joyfully, with a sense that their journey was in service to the Divine. Every place that Baha’ullah was sent, ostensibly in exile and as a punishment, was made better by His presence.
That is the reason why, on this day, and in this Day, I feel no worries. No matter how difficult things may sometimes get, the right thing happens in the end.
April 30, 2025- The soup came out, piping hot, a huge bowl of broth, filled with sliced brisket and triangular meatballs. There were leaves of basil and mung bean sprouts on the side, but I was mostly in a mood for the meat, rice noodle and broth soup that is a flagship item on a Vietnamese menu.
Hiking buddy and I took lunch, rather than to the trail, as she had done a long hike with her Women’s Hiking Club, yesterday. Vietnamese Pho, the simply-named cafe on Prescott’s West Side, serves the finest standards of the Land of the Blue Dragon: Six varieties of Pho, two kinds of fried rice, banh mi, papaya salad and several varieties of egg roll.
I have grown fond of several Asian cuisines, since living in Korea in the late ’80s- early ’90s. Of course, the different styles of Chinese cuisine pre-dated that period. Penny and I enjoyed Sichuan and Guangdong dishes from the time we first met. Japanese, Malaysian, Thai and Indian cuisines were no strangers to our palate, during the Phoenix years. Filipino, as you know, has found its way to my palate’s heart, in the past two years.
I feel like I missed out on Vietnamese, when I was there in 1971- G.I. palates, by and large, gravitated towards “home food”. For those who favour a fine grilled steak, however, beef is never better than it is in a bowl of Pho, or on a grilled meat platter. I will be sure to go back to that little noodle shop several times, over the summer.
April 29, 2025- A lone patron sat on a stool at The County Seat Restaurant, when I walked in this morning. I knew instantly who it was- a cousin whom I hadn’t seen in 31 years. (Spoiler alerts: I had been in contact with him for a few weeks, and had arranged this lunch meet-up; besides, LinkedIn cued me to his present appearance.) I have been in his “summer community”, in the Twin Cities area, a couple of times in the past several years, but he was not there at the time. During the colder months, he and his wife are at home in the Phoenix area.
Our conversation focused, quite a bit, on the subject of family reunions. We used to have those, organized by one nuclear family unit or another, when the majority of aunts and uncles were still around. Now, there are four aunts on my paternal side and one aunt on my maternal side. We cousins connect, to some extent, with our siblings-and occasionally with those further afield.
I was able to visit with several cousins, on both sides, last summer during our farewell to my mother. The idea of an annual reunion was bruited about, but it occurs to me that the best way to connect with extended family is to just make arrangements, on an individual basis. That worked the past few summers and again today. It will likely work again, in a week or two, when I get back to New England for several days. Then, too, there will be stops in Pennsylvania, Virginia, Tennessee-and on to Texas, and my little family, if only for a weekend.
B and I compared notes. We have both pretty much blanketed the United States and have been to a smattering of other countries. Our far-flung family has made its presence known in just about every country where there is a French diaspora. We each have Irish blood, so that, too, has given us connections. My German ancestry also has ties to a good many parts of the world.
I won’t likely connect with every member of the brood, but it’s fun when connections do happen.
April 24, 2025- The girl was unequivocal about not liking the leg stretching exercise that is part of her daily routine. I told her it was better for her than just letting her muscles turn to mush. Somehow, she understood and stopped complaining. To me, her being able to stand is as important as a classmate’s learning the basics of the Periodic Table of the Elements-if not more so. Everyone’s goals matter, regardless of how simple they may seem.
Today was probably my last assignment of the academic year, with next week being full of Baha’i and Red Cross activities, and the following three weeks being Road Trip time. This week has also seen a few time-zone influenced snags-with messages about online meetings giving a start time in either Eastern or Central Daylight Time-in small print, of course. So, I missed a few meetings, that were thankfully not crucial to attend. Still, it is an annoyance and a wale-up call to slow down and pay closer attention to the fine print. It came to a head this evening, when I had to go back and forth several times, to make clear what the time was going to be here for a short, but critical online meeting tomorrow.
Much of my own work seems, on its face, to matter to me alone. It was therefore a pleasant surprise that my staff for the day expressed a wish that I would come back and cover for their boss, a couple of days in May. I told them that was not possible, for the reasons stated above. It was gratifying, nonetheless, that simply doing a job to the best of my ability is viewed as something extraordinary. I can only hope that more people will see fit to do whatever a job takes to be done properly,
April 21, 2025- The unequivocal patron, at our weekly Soup Kitchen meal, reminded me to not question what he saw as the Will of God, as we talked about last Friday’s freak snow squall. He’s right, whatever happens in the realm of nature has Divine cachet.
Jorge Mario Bergoglio, known officially as Pope Francis I, left this world early this morning, having shepherded his flock through one last Easter, even while suffering the ravages of age and long toil. Pope Francis never came across as an egotistical man, nor did he flaunt the riches that surrounded him in the Vatican, a place of storied wealth. He kept at his work until the next-to-last day of his life, boots on the ground. It was the Will of God that His steward of the adherents to Roman Catholicism, a voice for peace and strength of character, should have left our midst at the end of the holiest week on the Christian calendar.
Everyone on Earth serves the Divine Will. Even those who style themselves as the purveyors of mayhem, as the unchallengeable lords and masters of the rest of us, have no power to do anything that is at variance with the Creator’s Master Plan. There is growth to be achieved by the very people who are in the sights of tyrants. There is growth to be achieved by the tyrants themselves-and all their minions. Each of us walks in His path, whether to point out where we are falling short, as a species, or to effect the changes that will bring about a more peaceful world.
In this year of confusion, each of us gets to make the choice of which path to growth is right for us.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 