Actual Vacation, Day 3

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November 22, 2023, Grapevine- There are all kinds of journeys to be had, in this life and beyond.

While exercising, back at Home Base, last week, I watched a segment of an “adventures in car repair” show, on the Motor Trend Channel which, as you might imagine, has several such programs. The journey that one crew undertook, never brought them much outside their shop, their supply places or their test drive circuit, but it was certainly a fascinating peregrination.

The vehicle on which they were working had one functioning part: The drive train (actually, only the flywheel). Everything else, from the transmission to the windshield wipers, was messed up, beyond imagining. Somehow, they began work on turning the heap of metal into something resembling a useful piece of equipment. It took them seventeen months-and $48,000 of the owner’s money-but it came off the rack as good as anything out of River Rouge or Smyrna.

Almost as exhausting, to my imagination, was Julie Powell’s cooking of every recipe in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”. Not falling victim to a miasma of conceit took a lot of energy, though criticism from Ms. Child certainly must have helped, in that respect.

There are other such journeys of mind and heart. I have gone on a few: Reading every book in the Harry Potter series, followed by reading every existing volume of George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire”-preceded, long ago, by absorbing each volume of John Jakes’ “The Kent Family Chronicles”. I see where Mr. Jakes passed on, earlier this year. His work was what rekindled a love of the printed page, that had been dampened, over the years, by one thing or another.

Writing is, of course, another path I can take. In my Xanga days, some whimsical stories came out of this imagination. I lost track of them, when Xanga folded and no longer have access to that medium’s successor sites, which own the rights to everything anyone ever wrote on Xanga. Still, there may be some fiction forthcoming on this Word Press, if for no other reason than to keep the travel blogs from getting tiresome to my readership. Then, there are growing different vegetables and fruit, learning to repair different items, increasing fluency in different languages and so forth-all good for brain and body.

There came a sad notice that one of my former students, who has struggled with health issues, since a terrible auto accident, some years back, is entering the final phase of this life. I certainly pray for his comfort, and if possible, recovery, but passing on is, as ‘Abdu’l-Baha once described it, “yet another journey, for which one should carefully prepare.” May the best thing happen, in his case, as in that of anyone who is close to transition.

We soldier on.

Beeswax Pull and The Flower Moon

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November 19, 2023- The beeswax cone did what it was supposed to do, gently cleanse my ears, with a pulling effect. It pretty much confirmed today’s gentler tone-compared to yesterday’s angry intensity. I had more small tasks to do-checking in on senior friends at Post 6 (most are well), attending a Baha’i study session (respectful, but thorough, examination of a letter from the Universal House of Justice), picking up the Farmers Market order that I missed yesterday, this beeswax cleanse and a visit to a Holiday Market in Prescott Valley, to get gifts for Aram and Yunhee.

Now it’s almost time to go view “Killers of the Flower Moon”-an acclaimed depiction of modern day exploitation of resources on First Nations lands. I will have some comments on the film, in the next post. I will say, ahead of time, that the part of the human being that often is killed first is the spirit. Once that happens, it takes a generation or two to recover, if justice is truly exercised.

That brings me to this morning. Last night, I went to bed, questioning my place in this community. In the light of day, though, and after talking with a few friends, my message to those who don’t like my being here- some of whom may read this- is:

I have a place here. It is not defined by you, and no matter who you may try to turn against me, it will not end well. There are many who know my heart, which you do not. They know I have the best interests of children, teens and the disadvantaged always front and center. They know it has been this way, for 42 years. They know I am committed, I will respect your gentle friends, whom I met last night, and show them honour. I will do the same for you, even if you strike back in anger.

So, though you are popular, active in social justice causes and will be in the same spaces as I am, quite a bit- know that I am not going anywhere. We might as well get along; but if not, Prescott will remain my home-until I am needed elsewhere.

Not Ugly

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November 17, 2023- Someone wrote a note to Daniela. In English, it said “You’re ugly!” Then it said, “Nobody’s as ugly as you.” Daniela sneered and sat on the note. After her class left, a group of younger students came in. One of them found the note, and gave it to me. That’s how I knew what it said, and why Daniela sneered.

She is not an ugly girl-nor is any other child in this community ugly. The spirit of one who makes that judgment is rather feo. Spirits, though, can change-have to change. I took a class that had several groups visiting. They each had the same assignment. I found that there were no difficult groups-just more people to whom I felt and showed love.

That’s the beauty of being here-of being with those whose lives are all ahead of them; to whom I can point out that certain behaviours are more deadly, or at least hurtful to them as individuals, than they are to those around them. So the younger ones were not allowed to lift the heavy covers of oaken desks. The older ones had more responsibility to clean up and make sure that like objects went with like objects.

Most importantly, they were made accountable for the well-being of their classmates. A sad child was paired with one or two classmates of the same gender, who were encouraged to say kind things and lift the aggrieved one’s spirits. No one was coddled, but no one was left out-or shut out. Everyone’s work was praised, because that is how people advance-one skill set at a time.

I gave the note to Daniela’s teacher, who had a fair idea as to who wrote it. There will be a healthy discourse on the subject of judging people by perceived appearance.

I see no ugly faces.

Death of A Culture?

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November 15, 2023- The scene, in a National Geographic Magazine article on orcas of the Southern Ocean, showed three or four females in an orca family systematically using wave action to upend a small ice floe, on which their prey, a Weddell seal, was sheltering. The maneuver was ultimately successful and the dolphins took their food home.

It was then pointed out, that the decline in sea ice has led the seals to find a new home, inland on a rocky landscape. Orcas, and other cetaceans, have no such recourse. Thus, the author concluded, we may be witnessing the death of a culture.

Cetaceans may, over eons, return to the land-dwelling practices of their very distant ancestors. Living things are almost always able to adapt to the Earth’s changes, if given plenty of time. Aspects of culture, though, will rise and fall, with the onset of those changes.

I pondered what this has meant, in a human context, just in my own lifetime. When I was four, a child could not get on a phone and call a beloved relative, without two or three unfamiliar female voices telling him to get off the phone. I used to wonder, even back then, how nice it would be it we could speak to family and friends on a phone that could be used in a car-or while walking along a sidewalk.

In moments of self-pity, in my early adolescence, I wondered what it would be like to live in a society where it was severely frowned-upon, or even illegal, to ridicule others. I quickly concluded that the scenario would be untenable- since nobody’s perfect, and not being held to account for things would end in the person falling victim to own ego.

The narrowness of my contacts, growing up in a community where people of colour lived on the periphery of town, or came to work from the two larger cities to our northeast and southwest, respectively, allowed subliminal and stereotypical views of other ethnicities to settle in my psyche. Still, I wondered from an early age as to how long it would take for people of colour to be able to live freely, wherever they wanted-with no harassment from those around them. I guess we’re still working on that one-though we’ve certainly come a long way. The house, where my mother and her siblings were raised, has been owned for several years by an African-American attorney, of distinguished bearing and considerable accomplishment. I think my maternal grandfather, who prided himself on his work, would have approved.

Culture, our collective, shared set of beliefs, practices and implements, may always change. To say it is subject to death, though, is rather presumptuous.

What’s Missing?

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November 13, 2023- Today is one of two days this week with no outside schedule, per se. So, of course I went down to Century Lounge, to sit and chat with my friend, Marianne, the barista. While we had a few minutes, before the upstairs tenants and streetside regulars came in, M asked me if I was homesick for Prescott, whilst in the Philippines.

I have not given that notion much thought. I do not miss one place, when I am in another-largely because there has been so much that is comforting and wondrous, wherever I happen to be. Certainly, I’d be “homesick” were I in a war zone or in some other captive situation-but, as it occurred to me, in another situation today, there would be scant comfort and wonder, in such a place.

That said, I certainly miss friends here, when elsewhere and am glad to see them, once back in Home Base. Likewise, there are people I miss in many other places of the heart, when here-and thank the Lord for the digital connections we now have, to augment the telephone and the mails. (I thought of someone from whom no one has heard in a while, and thus sent her a message. I will be very much concerned with the response.)

We each can only be in one place at a time-and my loci do not depend on permission, per se, from anyone who interposes self in other people’s lives, my own included. This has caused a rift with someone I’ve known for many years-and is discomfiting to a few others. To equate availability on demand, however, with trustworthiness, is a false equivalency.

I have three key work assignments, this week, followed by a day helping to install smoke detectors, in a town three hours west of here. Then there will be ten days spent with family. All else remains in the realm of prayer.

Hours of Power

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November 11, 2023- Settling in, to enjoy ninety minutes of pulsating, original rock songs, by one of Prescott’s most pulsating, original bands-The CheekTones, I was pleasantly surprised when two young ladies I had not seen before sat themselves at the table, joined, for good measure,a few minutes later by two of their male classmates, then by a shyer, more reticent girl.

The first two asked me general questions about my day, and how I enjoyed The Raven-and the CheekTones. It turned out they were mostly there to support one of the boys who was playing a song with Don Cheek and his band. The kid can play! His parents were there, for the moment-as were these classmates. The girls spoke a bit about their after school jobs-shopping cart jockey, beverage pourer at a local burger joint and juice bar attendant. The boys had nothing to say. Then we all turned our full attention to the band.

Don has had a band presence here, at least since I moved up from Phoenix, in 2011. He has been mentoring young musicians for probably twice that long. He inspired, and supports, another local band, Scandalous Hands, who appear regularly at The Raven, as well. The two bands do 95% of their performances in Prescott clubs and outdoor venues-going, every so often, to Sedona or to Parker, on the Colorado River. Such energy conservation has its benefits-and is rather common, to local bands. It’s a huge reason why their performances here tend towards the intense, the explosive and are so inspirational to young artists.

The kids excused themselves, after forty minutes or so, to go do teen-specific activities. They popped back in one more time, towards the end of the concert, just so I wouldn’t think it was because of me that they left the first time. Nah-I was there once, long ago. It was good they stopped back in, though. I had the young guitarist’s finger warmers on the table and would not have been able to return them, save through Don-who has enough to concern himself.

There was a lot of power in the air today. It is categorized, by astrologers and cosmic advisers, as an Eleven Master Day-meaning that its digits, 1+1+1+1+2+2+3, add up to eleven. A pair of ones, written side by side, are also seen by the mystics as being pillars of both male and female energy.

Today was Veterans Day, and there was a long parade, part of which I watched, before heading to Farmers Market, to tend to the only service day I could offer there, this month. In early evening, I sat in on a Healing Devotional, hosted by someone who was attacked last month. She is on the mend, though, and is still working with police in her community, to try and locate her assailant, before another attack happens.

Each of these events had a power of its own, as did the initial responses to my joining subgroups of nextdoor.com. It has never been easy for me to accept compliments and positive views from others, but that is changing-at long last. It does not have to conflict with personal modesty-and is good for building the energy flow that I need, in order to accomplish what lies ahead, both here and further afield. One friend says my travel is foolish, but deep down inside, I think she is only masking her own wish for a more expansive life, something that those who controlled her life for so long would never allow.

Each of us can move ahead, and as long as we support one another, in our struggles with our own egos and with those who would try to stifle us, for their own ends.

Different, but Not Blind

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November 10, 2023- An old friend, who I hadn’t seen for a while, regarded me with some concern: She remembered me as a chunky, 186-pounder. I am now 30 lbs lighter, which I fear may have triggered memories of her late husband, in his last stages of life-and the anniversary of his departure is two weeks after Thanksgiving. My weight reduction, which has about six more pounds to shed, is intentional, and the recent bout with the flu aside, there is no medical evidence of any carcinogenic or pathological roots to the ongoing loss. I am just eating carefully and getting sufficient exercise and rest.

Still and all, my friend’s sensitivity, and the memory of her dear husband, need to be honoured. I will be stopping by her establishment a fair number of times, over the next several months-especially in December-mainly to listen. Tonight, the place was very busy, and our conversation was brief.

She had a question or two about my Philippine visit-her main interest being the young man I have been sponsoring-and the pair of basketball shoes that he was able to select for himself. She is not one who thinks much of travel for its own sake-a good many self-employed people have the same take, for obvious reasons. Making friends and building networks, which are also my own on-the-road focus, make sense to her.

Earlier today, Hiking Buddy and I took in Willow Lake, a smaller reservoir to the northwest of Watson Lake. It is separated from its larger mate, by the Granite Dells-whose western edge is also called Willow Dells. We focused on the west and south sides of the lake shore. HB’s interest in my trip was mainly in the places I visited with friends, the quality of my photos and what, if any, was the effect on my health. (Truth be known, it was coming back to an unheated house that led to last Friday’s flu crash. I am just glad it didn’t hit the contagious phase until well after my Red Cross activity on Friday morning, and that I had until Tuesday to recover).

Cottonwoods and bog grass, in autumn transition.
Great Blue Heron, in repose.

Between this hike and my visit to the small cafe, there was the small matter of a haircut. So, back to Fantastic Sam’s it was, and in a half-hour or so, I no longer looked like a charging barbarian. My new stylist had questions of her own about Manila. She has a great yearning to get out and see things-and is mostly wanting to learn from other cultures. I pointed out that most people have no issue with Americans, as individuals. It is always wise to be aware of one’s surroundings and to maintain boundaries-but that it true right here, also.

In looking back on the three ladies’ perspectives, I am reminded of the old fable about the five men and the elephant. Everyone, whether blind or sighted, has interests that differ from others. This was underscored by my filling out a profile, this morning, for Next Door.com Interest groups abound, under that umbrella group-so it will be a fascinating exercise in networking.

Frank Borman

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November 9, 2023- The young man was unwilling to put all his eggs in one basket, as it were-and so, despite there being three other candidates ahead of him, he filled out and submitted an application for West Point Military Academy, in 1945. A year later, the three candidates ahead of him had fallen away, and the future Apollo astronaut entered the Academy. He graduated 8th, in a class of 670, in 1950.

The crackerjack test pilot had what Tom Wolfe would call “the right stuff”, in spades, and so qualified for training as an astronaut-first in the Project Gemini tandem Earth orbit activities, then as pilot of the Apollo 8 circumambulation of the Moon, in December, 1968. Later, as NASA White House liaison, he watched the landing of Apollo 11, on the lunar surface, and Neil Armstrong’s famous steps and speech, from the West Wing.

The sharp-eyed airline executive had built his company’s fortunes and took a leap of faith, purchasing new planes and equipment, keeping Eastern Airlines in the forefront of what was then state-of-the-art technology. He did not shy from the trade-offs, and trimmed costs at the expense of salaries and wages. Deregulation of the industry was not something he foresaw, though, and the perfect storm of decline in profits and uptick in costs, including debt management, led him to resign as CEO, in 1986.

Through it all, Frank Frederick Borman was a doer. He kept on with building his own vehicles, from the engine to the exhaust pipe; selling cars in Las Cruces, then running cattle in Montana. He was a faithful husband to his wife, Susan, for 71 years. He was a good father to two sons. He was a hard-nosed Chief Executive Officer, who did not dodge the tough questions, though it cost his employees, especially the women, mightily when he faced the fire.

Colonel Borman lived to the age of 95, passing on, two days ago, near his beloved ranch. His life, replete with success yet riddled with errors in judgment, was nonetheless in many ways worthy of admiration.

The Sum of Ignorance

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November 7, 2023- As the short video played out, some of those who may well find themselves in harm’s way, eight years from now, should the penchant for war as a solution to global ills continue, were busy in denial- choosing to play around and insult each other, rather than show respect for those who have served.

I know it is the fear of death that spurs adolescent boys to act out, when conflict and war are mentioned, however respectfully. Yet, I’ve seen too much and lost too many friends, men and women alike, to abide their antics without comment. Disinterest, or even the appearance of same, is what leads to the rise of tyranny. Autocrats can smell apathy, the way bears can smell food, clearly and from a distance. I left that particular coterie to answer to their regular teacher.

This evening, with only a few exceptions, people turned away from ignorance. The right to life is universal, and it also cannot be a pretext for eliminating the growth of conscience among one’s neighbours. The solution to feeling the need to end another’s life is not statute, but careful use of the sex drive- which, to me, lies within marital union, however two people see that union. As long as that concept seems antiquated or somehow patriarchal, there will remain “unwanted” pregnancies. (Parents should NOT be arranging marriages, in this day of spreading universal education; they should certainly approve or disapprove their child’s choice of mate, but not make the choice for the child.) There remains, as we are seeing, a rising reverence for a human being’s right and duty to choose mindfully, as to what happens with his/her own body.

People also turned away from ignorance, in general. They did not turn away from traditional values, but from the notion that only a small group of elders can decide what’s best for the people. In the run-up to today’s vote, ignorant and ill -advised statements, by those who claim to represent conservatism, even about intimate details of their personal lives, did not do the movement of preservation any favours.

” For the wages of sin is death…..”- St.Paul’s Letter to the Romans, 6:23. The sum of ignorance, whether on the Right or on the Left, is zero.

The Anchor Is Still In Place

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November 2, 2023- The landlord was right there, as I approached the driveway, so I pulled around and up the south side of the horseshoe. He had done some work on the back door to Home Base, but went on to other tasks, so I could bring everything inside. After an exchange of pleasantries, and my reminding him to deposit the rent check, it was time for a rest.

The western end of the Pacific Rim feels like home, the way Jeju does-and San Diego, Grapevine, Santa Fe, Vancouver Island, Cortez, Bisbee, Philadelphia, Chicagoland, Mishawaka, Cape Breton, the North Shore of Massachusetts, a dozen places across the South-and here, Home Base Prescott, my anchor.

The difference in temperature is palpable-Manila was gorgeously warm and Prescott is, well, stimulating. I put the Korean comforter on my bed, and there it will stay until March or April. The human temperature, though, is warm all over. I was welcomed in Banning-at Sunset Motel and at Gramma’s Country Kitchen, my go-to spot for a delectable meal when passing through the Inland Empire, along I-10. I had no need to stop anywhere else, save getting gas in Coachella- where it is below $5 a gallon, once again. Once in Prescott, I picked up the mail, and attended a Red Cross monthly meeting. We will do smoke detector installations, later this month, and on other occasions, towards Spring. Then, it was time for a long evening’s rest.

So here I am, thinking of the Filipino/as who make my southwest Pacific anchor strong: Demure, soft-spoken Norlie, dedicated Ylona, fun-loving, intellectual and energetic Kathy, diligent firecracker Arlene, the singing waiter and cook at Sky Pad, the kind and sweet-faced laundress of Santa Ana and all those hotel staffers and drivers who went the extra mile for me. I have only scratched the surface of that unique nation, and have promised Norlie and Kathy that I will be back, for more extensive efforts, in 2025, in-between long-delayed time in Europe and northeast Asia. Perhaps N’s beloved will be there, by then, and a group of us can visit other islands, and parts of Luzon together.

Here I am, prepping for the activities that lie ahead this month, including the now traditional week in Grapevine and thereabouts, the teaching work, the Farmers Market winter hours and installing fire alarms in the northwest AZ town of Kingman.

Here I am, feeling anchored and appreciated.