Category Archives: Inspiration

Back to the Border, and to Bull Pasture, Part I: Lukeville and Ajo

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Education, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 14, 2024- Traffic was bustling, at the Lukeville/Sonoyta Crossing. The place had been closed, a few months ago, with the Federal government bemoaning lack of resources to handle a surge in migrants trying to cross into the United States. It turned out this was mainly a processing issue, and the Arizona National Guard was dispatched to help with ancillary duties, so that the Border Patrol agents could focus on clearing up the processing of those who were seeking asylum, from any one of two dozen countries, and returning those not qualifying for refuge, to Mexico, or to their countries of origin.

The United States/Mexico border, at Lukeville/Sonoyta.

Lukeville had plenty of traffic, going both ways, but the restaurant was closed and the gas station convenience market’s shelves were half empty. I saw little evidence of the crisis of the past few months, other than an active Border Patrol work station, on South Puerto Blanco Drive, that had a few tents set up-either for detained migrants or for agents to get out of the sun. It is likely that they are used for a little of both. These events come in waves, though, so unless Congress and the President can reach an understanding, soon, it is likely to be a long summer of ebbs and flows of both desperate and opportunistic people trying to enter the U.S.

Before all this, and my return to Quitobaquito and Bull Pasture-both within Organ Pipe National Monument (Lukeville also lies within the Monument), I took some time to look around Ajo. Morning’s light, at Copper Sands Motel, revealed this courtyard.

Relaxing spots, at Copper Sands Motel, Ajo (above and below)

In town, there are two stand-out areas of note: The Plaza, and Curley School. Both were built in the 1920s, when Phelps-Dodge Corporation began to realize the peak operation of its copper mines in the area. Curley School is named for the company’s regional manager: Michael Curley. Ajo Plaza, in the style of a Spanish community gathering place, was the one area where the three otherwise segregated ethnicities, Anglo, Mexican and Tohono O’Odham, could mix freely. Today, of course, there is no segregation. I saw people of all racial groups here, as elsewhere in the country-and in each case, they were working in responsible positions.

Here are two views of Ajo Plaza, where several people were gathered, to relax over coffee and tea, or to discuss business.

East side of Ajo Plaza
North side, Ajo Plaza
Ajo Plaza’s Greenspace

Across from the Plaza is Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, also a marvel in white.

Immaculate Conception, from the east side.

Curley School educated all Ajo area students, from 1919-1997. When it was found to be in disrepair, a group of Ajo residents, working with the University of Arizona, developed a renovation plan, and the facility, consisting of nine buildings was refitted as artisan apartments and up-to-date classrooms, for the practice and study of the Fine Arts. Here are three views of the facility.

Main Building, Curley School, Ajo
Inner Classrooms, Curley School, Ajo
Standing Duck Cairn, Curley School, Ajo

As with all such operations, the New Cornelia Open Copper Mine ran out of its product, and has left tailings in its wake.

Tailings from New Cornelia Mine, east side of Arizona Highway 85, south of Ajo.

Hopefully, the area can be cleaned up and restored as a natural area, useful to both people and wildlife. The same ingenuity that saved Curley School would be beneficial here.

NEXT: A return to Quitobaquito and Bull Pasture

Bookends of Love and Light

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 13, 2024, Ajo- The motel owner came to the door, after I left a voice mail on her phone, and cheerfully welcomed me into the office. After I paid, she went over and showed me the room, proudly pointing out the improvements she had made to it.

Earlier in the day, as I checked out of Knight’s Inn, the clerk thanked me, profusely, for having stayed the night. There is always a pleasant stay to be had, at a Knight’s Inn-and the price has always been reasonable.

Between these two bookends of love and light, there was plenty of good cheer. When I went over to a nearby Speedway station, to get a cheap bit of breakfast, the clerk signed me up for a Speedy Rewards card, which I got to put to use, right away, when filling Sportage’s tank, an hour or so later. I had been a bit lazy, in getting onto such a discount program, up to now, but it’s time.

Making a pilgrimage to Bisbee, I found High Desert Market and Cafe was closed on Wednesdays, so another new spot was in order. I chose Main Street Bistro, which has a similar, if smaller, menu to HDMC’s. The wait was longer, with only one person staffing the patio area, but the wait was well worth it. I took a stroll downtown, after, and looked at the area where two buildings burned, a month ago. Of course, it was roped off, and pictures were not in order. I did take a shot of this rock formation, above the patio at Main Street Bistro.

Mr.Toad guards the Bistro.

It was now time to return to Coronado National Memorial, high on the border, near Hereford, AZ. This time, I wanted to hike at least 3/4 of the way up Joe’s Trail, which runs from just west of the Visitor’s Center to the fourth ridge of Coronado Peak, where there is space for several vehicles. I left my SUV in the parking lot at the Center, and managed to get 3/4 of the way, turning around and hiking back, with the hope of finding a place en route to Ajo, in time to make a Zoom-based meeting. (This didn’t pan out, and was my one disappointment of the day). The hike, though, in Montezuma Canyon, was sheer delight.

View from the base of Joe’s Trail, Coronado National Memorial.
Outcropping, lower Montezuma Canyon.
A jolly old king, Montezuma Canyon.
View from a narrow trail, Montezuma Canyon
At my turn-around point, with a view towards the canyon rim, Montezuma Canyon, Coronado National Memorial

I headed inexorably west, then north, and west again, after leaving the Memorial. The road called Ajo Way is one that Penny and I took, 41 years ago, to visit Kitt Peak, Organ Pipe National Monument and Puerto Penasco, Sonora. I would visit Organ Pipe, this time around, and drop in at the border town of Lukeville-but those are for tomorrow. Kitt Peak and Puerto Penasco are for another time, and possibly I won’t be visiting alone, but we’ll see.

For now, the border at Coronado is quiet, no sign of any mass incursions, surreptitious or otherwise, and the rangers suggested it’s been that way there, for a while. In Ajo, meanwhile, the Copper Sands Motel, and its owner, Linda, are delighted to have guests who mind their manners. Copper Sands kind of reminds me of Gram’s Place, the hostel where I stayed in Tampa, two years ago-lots of bric-a-brac and a funky patio or two.

I am getting ready to rest, bathed in love and light.

Tucson’s Dome and The Pride of the Catalina Foothills

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 12, 2024- The Old Pueblo shimmered in the morning light, and invited me to stay a while. First was a dinner invitation, which I wouldn’t dream of passing up, then there was all that lay in front of me, in El Presidio, and nearby Jacome Plaza, the gateway to the University of Arizona. I would not have enough time to visit U of A, but more on that in a bit.

Pima County Courthouse, Tucson

My first stop was the Pima County Courthouse, the domed gem of downtown Tucson. Five To Oh Coffee is a small stand, inside the building, with plenty of seating in the patio just outside. In the Sonoran Desert, “outside” is comfortable all day long-from mid-October to the end of May. So, I took my large coffee and blueberry empanada to a shady spot near the yet-to-open Southern Arizona Visitors Center.

A few minutes later, it was upstairs to the Dillinger Courtroom, where John Dillinger and his accomplices were tried and convicted-after the Tucson Police duped Public Enemy # 1 and the gang into a baited trap.

Dillinger Courtroom, Pima County Courthouse

Dillinger was still a media sensation, and his craftiness was matched by that of the Pima County Sheriff, who sold tickets to people wanting to see the killer bandit in his jail cell. After his conviction, Dillinger was sent to a prison in Indiana, from which he again escaped, and was later killed in Chicago.

Once I had read the displays outside the courtroom ,including information on Wyatt Earp, it was time to check out the Visitors Center. There, I noted a diorama of southern Arizona, with various buttons that lit up cities, highways, rivers, mountain ranges (Pima County has nine of those) and Native American reservations (Arizona has 23 of those).

On the west patio of the Courthouse is a Memorial Park honoring the victims of the January 8, 2011 shooting, in a northeast Tucson shopping center. They ranged in age from 9 to 76, and included a sitting Federal judge, a Congressional aide and a girl who had been born on September 11, 2001. Left paralyzed by the attack was the shooter’s prime target: United States Representative Gabrielle Giffords, still alive and in recovery.

Christina Taylor-Green, the 9/11 Baby who died in the 2011 attack, was an avid swimmer. Thus, this fountain became a centerpiece of the memorial.

Heroes of an earlier time of difficulty are also honoured here. Among them was my late father-in-law, Norman Fellman, captured by the Nazis near the end of the battle, in January, 1945. He survived six months in the concentration camp at Berga, where he was placed because he was Jewish.

Lunch time brought me to a small food truck, parked at Jacome Plaza, just east of the Courthouse. Carlos Jacome, Sr, and his wife, Dionicia, raised thirteen children-and the downtown Tucson business core-with help from a former rival, Harold Steinfeld. Jacome’s Department Store, along with Steinfeld’s, was a staple of downtown, for decades. In honour of the Jacome family, all of whom had a keen interest in the business, Jacome Plaza stands in front of the central public library. OaxaRio Food Truck serves fresh, delectable Oaxacan and Sonoran style treats. Next to it is Special Eats, which contributes to autism and Down’s Syndrome assistance programs. Here is a view of Jacome Plaza:

“Sonora”, by David Black (1991), restored by Trevor O’Tool.

Once lunch was enjoyed, under “Sonora’s” watchful gaze, I spent a nerve-wracking, but ultimately fruitful hour-long learning experience, in Joel D. Valdez Library, attempting to get online, and finally figuring out, with the aid of two library clerks, that my VPN was blocking access to the WiFi. Good to know, for the future: Get online first, then activate VPN-so long as the network is secure, as this one was. This experience used up the time I would have spent walking over to the University of Arizona, but no matter.

After checking e-mails, creating the previous day’s post and enjoying a refreshing Shamrock Matcha, at Ike’s Coffee, across the street from Jacome Plaza, it was time to go up to Tohono Chul, Tucson’s signature northeast green space. “Tohono Chul” means “desert corner”, in the language of the Tohono O’odham, whose own name means “Desert Dwellers”. It is a prime botanical garden, preserved by Richard and Jean Wilson, in the late 1960s. The Wilsons owned nearby Haunted Book Shop, from 1979-97, and gradually pieced Tohono Chul together, until the present 49 acres resulted in today’s bright oasis. Today, Jamie Maslyn Larson and her team maintain the vision set by the Wilsons, and Tohono Chul is a bright spot in the Catalina Foothills neighbourhood.

Tohono Chul Botanical Garden, north Tucson
Geology Wall, Tohono Chul Botanical Garden

Jumping Cactus, aka cholla, Tohono Chul Botanical Garden.
A “boot” left by a sahuaro, serves as a nesting site for various birds and small mammals.

It was soon dinner time, as well as quitting time for the Park staff, so off we all went, at 5 p.m. I headed down to a Red Lobster, on the southwest end of town, and joined a couple of old friends for a pleasant 90-minutes of catch-up and great food.

Finally, the drive southeastward, to Benson, then Tombstone, and finally to Sierra Vista-where my favoured Knight’s Inn was ready with a comfortable room. Thanks, Old Pueblo, for once again showing more of your many good sides!

Discretion

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 10, 2024- The talk show host listened, incredulously, as a woman insisted that her son should be treated by a veterinarian, because he identifies as a cat. I would recommend a different type of medical professional-for the mother. Children engage in imaginary play and fantasy-all the time. When an adult buys into the child’s mental exercises and verifies the imaginary as real-the child is, naturally, confused.

Just because one can do something, even under the law, doesn’t mean one should engage the whim. I have heard that a man is insisting on his right to use the woman’s restroom, at a place I visit frequently. This establishment has two restrooms-one for each sex. The clientele is older, and more traditional in their view of such matters. In other establishments, most transgender people I know are perfectly okay with using a “Unisex” restroom. In fact, there are several places where ALL the restrooms are unisex. They have stalls, and there are provisions for parents with children, disabled people and their caretakers, and other special cases. Common sense is not on vacation.

At a Women’s March, yesterday, a trio of men showed up and counter-protested. There is no problem there, but the men decided that the March itself deserved to be broken up. I seem to recall this happened fifty-nine years ago, in Alabama, with deadly results. A woman, who was with the counter-protesters, decided to use a bullhorn, to keep the Marchers from speaking their peace. The March had official sanction. The woman with the bullhorn did not. This matter will be taken up by the proper officials. There was no one injured today, but as Justice Barrett said the other day, the temperature needs to be lowered. Just because one can do something, doesn’t mean one should.

Common sense is not on vacation.

In large and small cities across the country, people have indulged themselves with ignoring traffic rules, weaving in and out of the traffic pattern, in small electric vehicles. Others have ignored the rules of commerce, and helped themselves to significant quantities of clothing, jewelry and other items, with the understanding that, as long as the value of the pilfered items is less than $1000, it will not matter. Just because one can do something, doesn’t mean one should.

Common sense is not on vacation.

No Backward Pivot

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Historical, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 8, 2024- My mother was a stay-at-home housewife, who also had a marketable skill: Hairdresser/cosmetologist. Our kitchen was her workspace, and I was honoured to make runs on a bus, to downtown Lynn, MA, from our home in Saugus, to purchase items that she needed for her trade. She is well-read, well-spoken and has kept up with current events, even in her 90s. Mother is nobody’s fool, and the four of us, her adult children, are all the better for it.

Today is International Women’s Day. Besides the maudlin truth that I would not be here today, were it not for a woman, it stands that I would not have had any kind of a life worth living, were it not for the life lessons imparted by Mom, by the six women who taught in our Elementary School, by several of the teachers in Junior High and High School (most notably Mrs. Katherine Vande and Miss Gladys Fox) and the devotion of my late wife, Penny. I would not be living as full a life as I have now, without the friendship of at least two dozen women, including someone I adore the most., but ALL of whom I love dearly.

There are those, both male and female, who harbor a thinly-veiled desire to put women “back in their place”, harkening back to the time when Mick Jagger could sing an abysmal tune, like “Under My Thumb”, or John Lennon croon a wretched song like “Little Girl”, and get away with it, even making a fair amount of money in the process. Maybe they want to go even further back, to the time when women were legally their husband’s, or father’s, chattel.

The genie cannot be put back in the bottle. It is ironic that many of the women who spout “traditonalist” views are self-made professionals, who have even told me that they are perfectly fine without a male mate in their lives. In that last pronouncement, they are right, in my humble opinion. Going back to the time when I was first contemplating proposing marriage to Penny, I weighed, very carefully, just how much I would add to the already distinguished and successful life she had made for herself. I am glad to have fully supported her further achievements, of two more Master’s Degrees and the implementation of three innovative programs, in schools where she subsequently worked. The woman was a genius. She was a fine wife and mother, but she would never thrived in a stay-at-home role.

In the Baha’i writings, it is stated that, given a choice of only educating one of two children, a son or a daughter, it is preferable to send the daughter to school, as the first teacher of a child is the mother. Cases in point: It was my mother who taught me to read, and to write in cursive letters. She was professional and exacting, and the lessons stuck. It was Penny who taught our son, Aram, to read, and to be careful in researching various aspects of life, before making a decision. Every one of the mothers among my female friends has had an outsized influence on the achievements of those of their children who have reached adulthood. That includes my sister, who has raised four strong and successful professionals.

The clock cannot be turned back. Thank God.

All Sacred, Holy

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Family, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 7, 2024- The veteran teacher was barely able to stand up, at day’s end, admitting that she was completely exhausted-and would take her time driving home this afternoon. I was able to help with a few of the remaining tasks this afternoon, during her meeting elsewhere, and the children were both helpful and well-mannered. My tie with teacher and students is sacred.

This evening, the President of the United States delivered an address that was, by turns, feisty, celebratory, and accusatory. A senator, from the opposing party, gave a response that was measured, questioning and accusatory in kind. Both recognize that their relative positions are somewhat rooted in fact, but missed the recognition that their opposite’s positions are also, to some extent, rooted in fact. The truth is bigger than the sum of its parts. Confusion comes from ambition, from the stance that only oneself can resolve the issues facing our time. Confusion comes from a totalitarian mindset. Both liberalism and conservatism are necessary. Each has a piece of the truth, and that piece is sacred. The truth is bigger than the sum of its parts. The truth cannot be fabricated, or deep-faked. It will come out, regardless. Truth is sacred.

While all that was going on, a few friends and I were in devotions, and were talking of communications with the next world. When I was at Penny’s grave site, on Tuesday, I noticed an inscription that had not been there, previously. It was not in any script that I recognize, and I know of the essential forms of Arabic, Hebrew, Mandarin, Korean, Japanese, Burmese, Thai and Cyrillic scripts, as well as the Phoenician/Roman alphabet. It was not in any of those, and I got a message that this was a sign of her spiritual progress. One of the more “practical” friends in the group said it was probably just gang graffiti. Not everything that happens in this life, however, has a quotidian cause. All communication that comes from the heart, or from spirit, is holy.

I have, as has been said often, a large number of friends, across the continent and across the planet. All of these relationships are sacred, as all life is sacred, holy. This is true, from the moment of conception, though we must somehow ascertain exactly when conception takes place. This is true through infancy and childhood, even when those stages are difficult. It is true throughout adolescence and adulthood, and into the senior years. It is true, whether a person presents self as a liberal, conservative, moderate; as Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu, Buddhist, agnostic, atheist or Baha’i; is male, female or uncertain as to sex. All people, indeed all living beings, are, at their core, sacred, holy.

It behooves those, who are quick to cast aspersions on others, to remember that. Yes, I include myself in that admonition.

Further Reflections On The Graveside Vigil

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 6, 2024- The dream sequence found Penny and me in an Italian restaurant, in a very different community. The proprietor took my debit card, and a couple of other cards, which were beige. He asked me if we wanted dessert, which was answered in the negative. He ran all three cards, then came back and sternly said that the two beige cards could not be used, as I had the wrong citizenship. He seemed hesitant to use the debit card, and we were at a standstill. Then I awoke, and realized there was no such conflict.

I felt a heaviness, as the message came to get up and start the day. Not really being fully in the moment, I nonetheless got up and went about grooming and dressing for the work day. It was a very good day, with a fair amount accomplished, working with individual students and one group. After work and a chiropractic adjustment, messages began to come to me, relative to yesterday’s visit to the Arizona Memorial Cemetery.

Questions were the format by which these messages were introduced. The answers, at least for now, came to me almost instantaneously.

“Why are some presences in my life stronger, more meaningful than others? Are some more loved than the rest?” It is beyond a simple matter of ‘some are friends, while others are mere acquaintances’. “Such reasoning is a dodge. Everyone whom one encounters is worthy of being viewed as a friend, although some make it difficult. Those closest, and most beloved, are in some instances present in one’s life for a long time, in some cases for a lifetime. In other cases, they appear late in one’s life, yet are no less treasured. Some are with a soul every day; others only fleetingly, and in other cases, may only be encountered once or twice.”

“Why am I feeling a drag on my energy, as if there is a darkness about? ” I had not felt this, in other graveside visits. “There is a residue of guilt. Also, it would have been preferable for you to make a brief visit here, then to have engaged in an act of service-even to have worked a half day. It is not necessary to make a visit to this place, as your primary act for these anniversaries.”

With these reflections, I go forward and know that there will be further questions and answers, as this year of rapid fire change and the overcoming of conundrums, along with artfully managing synchronicity- Many people tap into the prevailing energy of a given date and time, to schedule events at the same time as others, even knowing that the same people will be drawn to both events. Splitting one’s time between competing events isn’t just for Christmas Eve and New Year’s, anymore.

Cycles of Thirteen

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 5, 2024- I sat at Penny’s gravesite, early this afternoon, reciting a special Tablet written by Baha’u’llah, and several other prayers that I customarily say each day. The place was quiet and the air calm, with only a few other people around, either paying their respects or working.

She was in declining health, and I was her mainstay, for thirteen years (1998-2011), from her first head trauma to the day of her passing. It has now been thirteen years since she went to the afterlife, which Baha’is know as the Abha Realm (Abha means Heaven, or Most Glorious). In that time, I have shed much lack of confidence, honed social skills-some of them the hard way and become more patient with myself. None of that would have been possible, I believe, without the support of my strongest spirit guide. What gave her fits, in this life, has largely been overcome by her patient admonitions and way-showing.

The next thirteen years, if indeed such a cycle has started to succeed the last two, will likely find me even farther afield than the one just ended. I will possibly be occupied with remaining international journeys, may be building another relationship-or both. Regardless of the substance of this life, I know it will have the support of the soul with whom I became a strong Baha’i and raised a fine young man to adulthood. Any and all bumps along the way were just part of the growth process.

May her soul ever shine its light on any dark path I encounter.

“Everyone shines in a different light.”

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 3, 2024- The usually urbane man was blunt: “No way would I shake the hand of (political opposite) in public. Once I saw there was no one watching or holding a camera, I shook (political opposite’s) hand.” Thus have we reached a point that the wirepullers, the puppet-masters of division have wanted to see for several decades. It has gone beyond the snarky put-downs, which used to be easily dismissed. The image is the message.

I thought of my own actions, and reactions, as is my reflective wont. I will not shake the hand of anyone who advocates mass murder. For that matter, such a person would earn my contempt, for as long as that advocacy, or worse yet, the commission of such an act, is in the person’s repertoire. Merely being a political opposite, otherwise, does not merit my contempt. So far, I have not felt the need to cut anyone off for less than assault on my person, wanton grifting or impugning the memory of my late wife. I have been fortunate to have not met anyone who advocates atrocity.

A member of my wider circle made the title statement today, in reference to one of her loved ones. Embracing diversity, even if it is contrived for a time, on account of someone’s confusion, is hardly a bad thing. Again, I draw the line at advocacy of destructive behaviour. There are many in my circle of friends who live differently, think differently, embrace a different Faith, groom differently, and so on. Everyone does shine in their own particular light, and I would not want it any other way.

The Lion Roars Elsewhere

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 1, 2024- The sweet older lady carried her box filled with Bell jars out of the small health food convenience market, as I held the door. A few minutes later, as I approached the register with my small purchase, she burst back through the door, still holding her box of jars. As I hung back from the register, the lady told the cashier about her morning. She had encountered a couple, in her gated community, who were going about the neighbourhood, visiting shut-ins and offering Holy Communion wafers to them. When she encountered the couple again, at a local fast food restaurant, she bought them lunch. That was a story worth waiting for!

The old saw states: “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” Lamb-like weather is here for a few days, whilst in the Panhandle region of north Texas and northwest Oklahoma, a furious spate of wildfires, tempered briefly by a wimpy snow squall, has sundered about five communities, leaving wreckage reminiscent of Paradise, CA and Lahaina, HI in their wake. Whether we look at this still extant destruction and blame climate change or over-development- or a mix of the two, the scenes are heartbreaking. No amount of blame can restore what has been lost. Only resolve, and united action, can bring about recovery.

The same is true, for entirely different reasons, as a lion of a different sort roars in Gaza. No matter one’s politics, or religious persuasion, the slaughter of innocents arising from the wanton disregard, by two armies, for human life cannot pass without condemnation. Both armies should stand down-and let both Jewish and Arab people find a common path to resilience. At this point, it doesn’t matter who started it. No community on Earth deserves to be destroyed by the rapacity of others.

This evening, I made my way down to Raven Cafe, for another great performance by local favourites, Scandalous Hands. There was no room to sit, initially, yet as luck would have it, a couple vacated their table, just as I was getting a cup of coffee from the self-service urn. I moved towards the table and spotted another couple who seemed to want to sit. We agreed to share the table, and it turned out they were first time visitors to Prescott. I would have gladly shared the table, anyway, but first impressions matter. They greatly enjoyed Scandalous’ music, and even got up to dance a few times. I gave them a few pointers for activities and music venues, over the next two days they are here, and some other information about the Southwest, as this is their first time in the region.

March is off to a benign start here, though it would only take an errant spark and a gust of wind, to turn the tables. My prayers and positive thoughts, for Texas, Oklahoma, Gaza and so many other places which don’t have the calmness, the serenity or even the festive mood that Prescott enjoys, as March begins.