The Hana Chronicles, Month 5, Day 17

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June 7, 2026- Hana had her first taste of meat today. It was boiled, pureed beef, which she found underwhelming. I can’t imagine it would be all that appetizing, especially after having the same meat, seasoned and grilled, as part of a steak salad dinner, this evening. Still, a baby can only eat soft foods at first. Four incisors don’t make for very good chewing. She finished the serving, though, and will have the same tomorrow.

She also went on her first coffee shop visit, this afternoon. Local Good Coffee House is a shop that is staffed mostly by high school students who are doing community service. Only the manager is paid. The rest of the proceeds, outside of overhead costs, go to education and public health funding. We sat and enjoyed cold lattes, while Hana alternately looked around and napped on her Daddy’s shoulder. She noticed a toddler arguing with her mother, at one point and babbled some words in what sounded like a scolding tone. The little girl may or may not have heard her, but decided to obey her mother, shortly afterward. Energy can have a positive effect.

I spent the morning volunteering at the Red Cross Donation Center, in southwest Plano. We had about twenty donors, but after registering them, I passed the time watching Dhar Mann videos on the center’s TV. Dhar Mann is a producer of short episodes that teach a positive moral lesson, often using plot twists. The scripts are simplistic and the acting so/so, but for children and adolescents, the stories could be useful. When the time comes, I will watch some of them with Hana, say when she is 8 or 9.

It was a nice weekend. Now, we get ready for another week of developmental activities. Her current focus is on getting herself to sit upright. She is almost there.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 5, Day 16

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June 6, 2026- At 6:06 a.m., I heard a little voice on the baby monitor: “I up!”

Hana was ready to start her day, and by 6:30, she had gotten her mother to take her out of the crib. That’s just how it is: Infants and seniors seem to get up at the same time every day. The rest of the crowd is trying to catch up on sleep. I remember, all too well, the lounging around until 10, on Saturdays and Sundays. Hana’s parents are more 7 o’clock risers.

I made my Saturday morning bagel shop and Farmer’s Market run, around 9 a.m. The bagels were fresh out of the oven, when I got there, but there was no Farmers Market, as the vendors stay home when it’s raining. I did, however, score a full tank of gas, at the low, low price of $3.33 per gallon. That’s down from $3.79, two weeks ago. Hey, Northeasterners, Midwesterners, Californians-come on down!

Today marks 44 years since Penny and I placed a ring on one another’s fingers. It is also the 82nd anniversary of D-Day. My father-in-law always told me that I got the better fate than the guys who stormed the beaches. I’ve been to Utah Beach, walked the sands and stood in the German machine gun nests. I definitely would say Pops was right.

Hana spent the day reveling in attention from her parents, and enjoyed pureed cabbage with oatmeal. That’s probably not something one would order in a restaurant, but my granddaughter is a chow hound, like me. The rest of us had bulgogi and rice. Hana will get pureed beef tomorrow and Monday.

I put away more photos and books, and located the last of my important documents. I will need one more shelving unit, and be set for emptying my storage bin.

Baby and family had a good day.

The Hana Chronicles, Month 5, Day 15

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June 5, 2026- Granddaughter reveled, in eating pureed cabbage, this morning. She seems to revel in eating just about everything so far. (Zucchini being a question mark.) Hana is definitely a member of the Clean Plate Club, without being coaxed. If this persists through toddlerhood and the Fussy Eater years, so much the better.

Our day went well, with lots of independent play time in the pen, as well as Papa being in there, for the sake of reassurance and companionship. We explored a horseshoe-shaped side street, Chester Drive, which starts one block north and curves around to the east, behind our cul-de-sac. A young couple had just come back from Friday prayers, clad, head-to-toe in black. Otherwise, the street was quiet and empty. Hana didn’t mind the quietude.

As she napped, this afternoon, I read a piece about the Dutch director, Wim Wenders, who expressed regret for having depicted a certain actress in the nude, when she was only thirteen. He has removed the objectionable scenes from all versions of that film. The actress in question, now in her 60s, recently expressed how painful it has been, all these years, to have been so depicted in that film, and in two others a year, and three years, later. One hopes that the other two films may also be expunged of the tawdry scenes.

Many men, myself included for many years, gave scant thought to how it must have felt to girls and women baring all, in films, and even in glossy magazines. I knew better, by the time I was thirty, and Hana’s paternal grandmother had come into my life, along with the Baha’i teachings, which stress the dignity and worth of all human beings. Before that, there was always the double standard: A man’s (or boy’s) female relatives were held high above the world of sensuality. We respected our friends’ sisters and mothers also. There was a friend zone, which included a measure of respect, for the girls around us. Somehow, that did not extend to the world of “entertainment”.

More’s the pity. I started to take exception to the cavalier treatment of teenaged female actors, when very young girls were presented to audiences, in various states of deshabille. I did not watch any of those films, more out of shame over my past private thoughts and cavalier attitude. Then came Penny, our shared Faith and my career in education, which included the protection and guidance of girls and boys alike. There was no longer a double standard.

What this has to do with Hana is that, from Day One, her father and I are all the more committed to her well-being and development of her entire person. She is a sharp-eyed, intuitive person, making it all the more imperative for us to eschew any semblance of a double standard. Besides which, the old attitudes are just rotten for any man’s soul.

We are all so much more than eye candy.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 5, Day 11

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June 1, 2026- Looking at a Windows cover page that features a scene from the Chinese countryside, I spotted foliage and boulders, on a hillside. They looked to me like two people riding double on a bicycle. That could be the gist of a tall tale, or fable. For now, though, I note that clouds, boulders, rock outcroppings and even rocks covered in greenery can summon images of odd creatures-from dinosaurs to the Cheshire Cat. I like to tell my granddaughter such tales of wonder.

I am reading Hana tales from a collection of European children’s stories. These are old tales, and many revolve around the theme of either a young man or a young woman finding the person of their dreams (usually a royal or someone of means.). Others, though, concern the imparting of a lesson on curbing bad habits. like greed or jealousy. Animals play tricks on one another; peasants and servants humble mighty kings or conniving merchants and simple farm girls outwit wealthy princes. There is often a giant, ogre or some other demon, who also invariably gets a comeuppance.

I can get away with reading some of these, as there are few, if any illustrations and Hana is too young to get the message. I balance the more maudlin, “Happily Ever After” stories with those which have the main character putting in a mighty effort to get his/her due. Those are probably my favourites, as I want to continually teach Hana the value of working towards something of value. She knows, on some level at least, that I am taking care of her while her parents are at work. Eventually, she will have chores and be taught the importance of teamwork.

Restoration

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May 29, 2026- All that is meant to be, will withstand any efforts to obliterate it. In 1921, when ‘Abdu’l-Baha passed away, His grandson, Shoghi Effendi Rabbani, succeeded Him as Head of the Baha’i Faith, in the office of Guardian. Shoghi Effendi inherited his grandfather’s house, in Haifa, whilst his grand-uncle, who was not a follower of Baha’ullah, occupied the Mansion of Baha’ullah, in Bahji, north of Akka. That uncle, Mohammad Ali, also seized the keys to the Shrine (Burial Place) of Baha’ullah, holding them for a year, until the British administrators of Palestine took the keys back and gave them to Shoghi Effendi. This was in 1923. For six more years, his grand-uncle continued to live in the Mansion, and let it decay. By 1929, the Mansion had fallen into such a state of disrepair, that Mohammad Ali asked his grand-nephew to oversee repairs. This, Shoghi Effendi did, and he invited the British High Commissioner to inspect the renovated house and its surrounding gardens. The High Commissioner approved the repairs, and further, gave Shoghi Effendi title to the property, saying that it rightfully belonged to the Baha’i Faith, and not to apostate family members.

Today marks the 134th Anniversary of the Ascension of Baha’ullah. The Shrine of Baha’ullah, the Mansion and the magnificent gardens that surround it are cornerstones of any Baha’i Pilgrimage. They are also UNESCO World Heritage Sites and are open, gratis, to the public-as are the Shrines of al-Bab and of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, and their equally magnificent gardens, in Haifa.

All that is meant to be, will withstand any efforts to obliterate it.

“A Space of Quiet Promise”

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May 28, 2026- I am now halfway through my diamond year. Much has changed, since my 75th birthday, and much, at least inside me, has remained the same.

I have left a mountain community, with many acts of service in the course of a week. There was also much in the way of natural beauty, in which I could become refreshed, even at the risk of encountering an apex predator. I left a solid community of friends, of all Faiths, though a good many of my interactions were with my fellow Baha’is; Friends were also from all points on the political spectrum; as apt to be women as men; many were older than 60, and many were younger. I finally mastered the art of teaching, just in time to retire.

I came to a place of quiet promise. (The phrase is borrowed from blogger Cynthia Ward’s essay, “Who I Used To Be”.)* I left a one-bedroom apartment and came into a two-story house, with three bedrooms and two offices that could convert to bedrooms. The kitchen and living room, alone, are the size of what I left behind. I came to live with family, as an active contributor, rather than as a dependent. My educational skills now go towards the development of my infant granddaughter. My Red Cross volunteering is strictly on weekends, and my Baha’i activities are on evenings and weekends. I have not changed my American Legion post, as yet. There is no activity at the nearest post, save gatherings centered on drinking and smoking, neither of which interest me, nor would they suit my coming home to a nursing mother and a little girl. As time goes on, Slow Food Dallas-Fort Worth could draw me into its activities.

Health-wise, I have found a fine, competent VA doctor, dentist and chiropractor. I go to a Planet Fitness, about ten minutes from here. There are plenty of parks nearby and several safe neighbourhoods in which to walk, day or night. I can still do a plank for 1 1/2-2 minutes. I can still walk 3-5 miles. (It’s mostly flat here, but the humidity makes up for the lack of elevation changes).

I have several bounties here: A loving son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter; a large and supportive Baha’i community; a quiet neighbourhood connected with the outside world by well-ordered streets and roads; and, for the next few months at least, a reliable supply network for what we need. This house, this community, are places of quiet promise.

  • “Who I Used to Be”, Still Amazed, Cynthia Ward May 25,2026

The Hana Chronicles: Month 5, Day 6

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May 27,2026- I took a walk this evening. It was the first real solo walk that I’ve taken in months. I’ve been on short jaunts to Hoblitzelle Park with my family. yet these were done according to someone else’s schedule and at a pace set by others. My most satisfying steps have always been taken at my own pace-neither halting nor frenetic, but steady. That was true of hikes in Arizona and elsewhere. It’s true here in Plano, and thereabouts. It is what will keep me alive and well.

When I moved from Phoenix to Prescott, the door to regeneration had blown wide open. So, I took in nearly every natural space in the Prescott area, gradually widening my circle. There was someone whose point of view was that hikes don’t count, if one has to drive to the trailhead. I chose to ignore that particular admonition. My regeneration, after eleven years of caretaking, of watching the love of my life fade away, could stand no boundaries. I was a veritable Waldo, for a few years-sans the red-striped shirt and stocking cap. Fifty eight hiking trails, forty-eight states and twenty other countries later, that part of my resilience was well-established.

There was one part of me that waited: Who will be walking in my place, thirty, forty, fifty years from now? That question was answered, at least in part, in 1988, with the birth of my son, and was underscored in December of last year, when my first grandchild burst on scene.

For five months, though I have made forays around Plano and to surrounding towns in my car, most of my time has been spent cocooning, keeping my focus on Hana. That aspect of life will be even more pre-eminent, starting next week, when her mother starts a new job that will take her out of the house, five days a week. I will be Hana’s sole adult presence during the workweek.

This, however, brings about the need for an uptick in her daily routine-and walks in the stroller will be the first adjustment. I will be getting a car seat installed in Sportage, and short hops to the Public Library, for puppet shows and story time, will happen as the months roll by. Hana’s world continues to evolve and for me, there is a fifth regeneration.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 4

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May 25,2026- When I was a child, each Memorial Day was spent visiting the graves of both of my grandfathers and, starting in 1961, that of my maternal grandmother. Helping my parents place flowers at the sites was taught to us as a form of respect, and more importantly, of gratitude for the love that the departed elders had given my parents and, in Grama’s case, to us. I would, in time, do the same at my wife’s gravesite on Memorial Day weekend. On visits to Saugus, I would pay my respects at the grave of my parents and youngest brother, stopping at my grandparents’ and godparents’ tombs, along with those of a childhood friend or two.

This year was the first time in many years that I was not at a cemetery at any time on Memorial Day weekend. My honouring of my ancestors, and of Penny, came in the form of what I’ve done each day since January 2-spending quality time with my children and grandchild. I took care of Hana, so that her parents could pick up a playpen. She crawled intently, as she is now given to doing, and is lifting her torso off the ground, as she engages hands and knees. She is slowly demonstrating more confidence.

I see Penny in her granddaughter, who is also her namesake. Hana Penny will answer back, when she understands a request and doesn’t agree with it. She pushes herself quite hard and needs to be persuaded to take a rest. She has a winning smile and infectious laugh, along with a quick temper. She has a laser focus.and wants to examine something thoroughly, once it gets her attention.

The departed souls never really leave us-and I’m sure that the idiom “present in spirit” is more real than many imagine. Indeed, a few times, we have observed Hana looking up towards the ceiling, smiling and laughing at whatever, or whoever, she sees up there.

May all the departed rest in paradise.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 5, Day 3

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May 24,2026- Hana began her transition to solid food in earnest today, A simple meal of rice porridge accompanied her liquid feedings. She was quite happy about this, and recognizes, on some level, that this puts her on the path to being a bigger child. Food items, pureed of course, will be added gradually, one food at a time, according to a nutritionist’s plan that her mother has adopted.

My granddaughter is generally a cheerful little girl, who laughs easily. She also has a serious side and when she is crawling towards something, she does not like being distracted. She puts her attention on doing a certain task-usually on pressing buttons on an educational toy, to elicit a spoken instruction or a little song, to the tune of which she will kick her legs, even while lying prone. She carefully lifts up a section of her crawling mat, to see what is underneath and examines the tags on a quilt or other fabric.

I want to help her build on both of these aspects of herself-the gregarious and mirthful, as well as the purposeful and focused. All three of us read to her, show her the pictures in the books and have her turn the pages, as much as she is willing to. If she wants to linger on a certain page and absorb the illustrations, that’s okay, too.

There is no day off, or holiday, in raising an infant or toddler. At the same time, it is a labour of joy. A solid human being is in the works. The days fly by; with the sameness of each day’s schedule intertwined with the growth that each new day brings. It’s said that this will all “be over” too soon. Maybe so, but in the interim, I will savour every step forward and every inch grown taller.

Transactional

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May 23, 2026- Two people contacted me, earlier today-one for a small amount of financial assistance and the other, to cover a meeting tomorrow. In both cases, I had to decline. I have to tighten my belt, at least for a week or so, and family obligations conflict with the second request. Both were more understanding than I had expected-and will seek other options for their needs. There should be no one solution for any problem, no matter how “unexpected” it is. I have been in both situations, as well as far worse. Sometimes, family or friends have been able to help. Other times, i was on my own. I got through the situation.

I read, this morning, of a leading participant in the January 6, 2021 incident at the U.S. Capitol, who was complaining that his life was a mess because of his having been tried, found guilty and incarcerated for his involvement. Now, he is free, due to having been pardoned, but he wants money, with which to get a fresh start. Some wishes are best not granted, in the way they are requested. The money would have to come from Congress, and that body is not inclined to honour the request.

The surest way to overcome a transactional mentality-or even the appearance of being transactional, is to build a treasury of options. I have been the one with his hand out, often enough, to know how humiliating it feels, and how powerless. Yet, once again, I made it through. Loans were either paid off in full, or were forgiven. Being stuck somewhere, either a ride was arranged, I waited the night in place or, in a few instances, I walked to my destination. I have even bartered goods for services. There is always a solution.