No Infantilization

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February 21, 2026- Hana was squalling about a break in the feeding action, until I came downstairs and reminded her, in a calm voice, that being burped was part of the feeding process. She stopped squalling, let herself be burped and went back to feeding.

I know all the warnings given to grandparents about not spoiling their little darlings. As loving as I am to her, though, I will never jive the little girl. Those cautions and that guidance which her parents have in place have my backing as well. I want her to succeed and to enjoy the best that life has to offer. Those things don’t come to someone who throws a fit, and that realization comes with the first sets of delays and procedures that an infant experiences.

I will not infantilize my granddaughter. Her feelings, and her language, when it comes, will be honoured with respect. I will hold her and comfort her as often as she needs; I will not, however, enable her intemperance. Calmly, but firmly, we are checking all reasons for any distress she is exhibiting, and she is most appreciative once the hunger, the gas pains or soiled diaper have been addressed. She already knows, after only two months, that she is being taken seriously by all three of her adults.

I learned a lot from the parents at Dharma Farm, in Paulden, AZ, about not babying infants. That does not mean skimping on nurturing. It means teaching patience, consideration and gentleness, from the time a child can recognize faces and voices. It will also mean being considerate of others, from the time Hana can walk and speak.

I look at the larger situation around our country today and see that there are far too many, even in positions of power, who have been infantilized and pampered, and who have learned to fulminate at critics; manipulating people and situations to their advantage, Whether this has come from a lack of spirituality or from overemphasis on the material side of life, it has laid low any society where people have become numbed to the machinations of the overindulged few.

While I shudder at some of the behaviour of people both in positions of authority and in positions of civic responsibility, I see where it started, and will do my small part to make sure a little girl coming up in the world doesn’t follow poor examples.

Cyclical

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February 20, 2026- I heard a few days ago, and read this morning, that with Saturn and Neptune converging astrologically at O degrees Aries, a 6000 year cycle has come to an end and that a new one has begun. Savvier people than I, with regard to astrology, will have a clearer understanding of what that means,in that particular sense.

I do know, though, that there is, and has been, a unifying energy around the planet, released in 1844 by al-Bab and energized even more in 1863, by Baha’ullah. Like most such processes, it has been slow to unfold, even with two world wars, several civil wars in various nations (including the United States), a global economic depression, a global pandemic and various countries choosing to live-for a time-under authoritarian rule. The unity of the human race, however, is sure to be one of the processes that arise out of this new cycle. It cannot be imposed on us. We must choose it for ourselves. Truthfully, though, I don’t see that we have many other options.

It was said, two days ago, that many shopworn institutions will continue to collapse and fade away, with new institutions, more fitting for this day and age, rising up to take their place. We certainly are seeing that-and I am not talking about models of Artificial Intelligence whose main feature is the exacerbation of human greed. I am talking more about grassroots efforts at improving the quality of life-from language preservation activities, to experiments in backyard farming, to co-operative small groups of parents raising children across familial lines,to alliances of countries that are not being organized by one or more “major powers” .

I want to mention that in my own life, another sea change has taken place. Just as in 1981-82, I became a Baha’i. left the Roman Catholic faith, relinquished alcohol dependency and entered into wedlock; as in 1986-92, we left the United States and learned to live in the beautiful land and culture of South Korea, becoming parents to a beautiful little boy; as in 2011, I laid my beloved wife to rest, let go of a house and community in Phoenix and moved to Prescott, traveling widely and also devoting many hours to community service, so now has the call of grandparenthood been answered and a new community become my Home Base.

One cycle ends, indeed, and another begins.

Composed

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February 7, 2026- Hana has decided she likes her bath. It helps that the weather has moderated and the bathroom does not have any draft coming in through the window. She is a warm weather girl, and is also very appreciative of being clean. She was happy through the bath tonight, and even more so for the feeding that came afterward. Food, at least the kind that comes with infancy, is definitely a big winner with Hana.

I hear that my own composed demeanour is rubbing off on her. After 75 years, I simply don’t see anything about which to lose composure. There are plenty of bad actors who’d like nothing better than to rattle everyone’s cage. I think it’s best that those folks just go back and get their own houses in order, especially if they wield power. We need not give them the satisfaction of keeping us unbalanced.

I was fortunate to have met several members of the Plano Baha’i Community, who are a cross section of generations. All but one of them is of Persian descent, all but one having come here after the Islamic Republic was established. The ongoing persecution of the Baha’is in Iran is also designed to take attention away from the thievery and self-aggrandizement of a relatively small class of people, who happen to be well-connected clerics, paramilitary and sycophants to the first two. Increasingly, though, the common folk are not buying the deception, especially if they happen to know Baha’is personally.

The vast majority of the Baha’is still in Iran are likewise composed, law-abiding citizens of that country, who have broken no laws, save the dictum that everyone should be Muslim, or certain approved Christian or Jewish organizations. Perhaps our composure comes from the realization that our physical lives are not the entirety of our existence-and that those who spend their physical power capital on the temporary control of the masses will come to rue the day they crossed certain lines.

I know I’ve lived a good life, by and large, and have learned from my mistakes, That alone justifies my composure.

Firmness

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February 6,2026- The gentleman introduced himself and grasped my hand firmly in his. He then asked, “How old do you think I am?” He looked to be about 80, so that was my guess. He said that he is 89. His mind is as keen as his handshake is firm. Thus, I have another role model to guide me through the next fourteen years of this life, God willing and the creek doesn’t rise.

I attended my Baha’i sector group’s observance of the Feast of Mulk (Dominion), making my first visit with members of my new Faith Community. We gather in the homes of those who have the space and wherewithal to host our spiritual Feasts (prayers, administrative reporting & consultation, and social fellowship). Holy Days, and the coming Ayyam-i-Ha (Intercalary Days), February 25=March 1, are celebrated in the Plano Baha’i Center, which I last visited three weeks ago.

Firmness in body is best matched by firmness in spirit and faith. Fervent Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus and adherents to Indigenous beliefs know this, as well. I am confident that humanity will continue to trend towards wider applications of both cogent, proven health practices and a more broad-based view of the Divine Plan for our planet. Contrived regimens, in either area, are appealing, especially to those who are skeptical of spiritual traditions and/or established health practices. A firm command of reality, however, calls for us to be discerning, yet open-minded, in investigating these matters. Charlatans are all too eager to lead people astray, by playing on fears.

Back at the house, I found that Hana and her mother were staying firm in their routine, and I settled in to help with the little angel’s night routine, while her father is at a monthly Reserve Drill.

Ambition

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February 5, 2026- Hana makes no bones about it: She wants to stand up, and so with my help, she does, in sets of twenty. She wants to climb up on our shoulders, while being held, and so whoever has the honour will support her doing that. She likes to try and scoot or crawl, twice a day, on a soft nylon pad, and will work very hard at it, before getting frustrated. 7.75 weeks isn’t quite enough time, but she isn’t checking the calendar. Our girl is already setting an agenda for herself.

Hana comes by this honestly. Her paternal grandmother earned three Master’s Degrees, despite being physically disabled. One of her paternal great-great grandfathers was a master of podiatry and invented the Fellman boot, which was distributed to all ship-bound sailors of the U.S. Navy, during World War II. Her maternal grandfather gets up at 4 a.m. and works his farm until nearly dusk. Her parents have agendas for each day, and are not happy unless they accomplish at least 80% of those game plans.

So, we played the stand up game and I counted forty stand ups, while I was holding her and about twenty more, later in the day, while her Daddy was up for it. Mommy got her to start pushing forward with her feet a couple of times, and she realizes that holding her head up is key to successful ambulation. I look forward to helping my granddaughter set her own pace. She is not going to lay around and do nothing.

Never Alone

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February3,2026- I watched a lone sparrow, sitting on a branch of an oak tree next door. The bird was quietly resting, before continuing its flight, in search of bugs or worms. In the house, Hana was in her smaller bassinet, quietly watching the revolving dogs of the mobile that hangs above. She cooed and talked to them, before drifting off to sleep. “Lullaby by Brahms” contributed to the calm.

Babies and animals, alike, are never really alone, when in their family groups. Hana has her mother, father and me, one of us always within earshot, and/or line of sight, until she is old enough to play, or walk to school, with friends. Our local animals, from the birds, squirrels, rabbits and coyotes that live nearby, in Hoblitzelle Park and visit our neighbourhood to the pets that are kept safe from those same coyotes, all have at leas one other of their species to keep them company.

I was somewhat comfortable in my own company, growing up, but have always needed a presence nearby. There were usually family and friends, when I was a child,yet when I was solitary, invented a cadre of imaginary people. That came back to haunt me later, when I couldn’t quite let go of my imagined world. Still. the ideals that I conjured up have turned out to be rather beneficial to humanity: The ideas that there are no real strangers,that people of different nations can be friends across thousands of miles, that we might talk with one another on phones that are not confined to a house, that there is value in learning geography, that there is life on other planets, have largely become so commonplace as to be cliched.

We are seeing, however, a different sort of imaginary world surfacing , in the isolationist pronouncements that are behind much of the recent actions by some in governmental capacity. One may idle a car in neutral, for a time, and certainly should back up on occasion, but driving long distance in reverse is just as foolhardy as, say, driving 190 mph anywhere other than a designated race track. My fantasies of being alone with imaginary people did me no good. Neither will pretending that one group of people, holding one set of ideas, and practicing one way of life, work to their advantage, or anyone else’s, in the long run.

Michael Jackson sums it up, in another context, at a very basic level.

Passages

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January 17, 2026-

Hana will never know seven of her great grandparents. Five of them, including my Dad and Penny’s parents, passed some time ago. My Mom has been gone for 1 1/2 years. Yunhee’s maternal grandfather bid farewell this evening.

I recall stories about my own maternal grandfather. He was, by all accounts, a hard- working man, who warned anyone who would listen about the rise of Fascism. That was in the Boston of the late 1920s and early ‘30s.

My maternal grandmother was a bright light of my early years. She would walk down the hill to visit, when we lived less than a mile away. After we moved to our own house, she would take the bus to our corner and walk down Adams Avenue. Either way, she was a reliable presence, until she became ill and passed on, in 1960.

My paternal grandparents were also endearing people. Grampy underwent an experimental heart bypass, in 1955 and didn’t make it through. Nana was more of an enduring presence, living to see and enjoy 49 grandchildren, then 10 great grands. she, too, would take the bus from her neighbourhood in nearby Lynn and one of us would pick her up at Saugus Center.

Hana will know them, and her grandmother, Penny, through stories and pictures. It will be a while, hopefully, before she encounters death as a part of life. Her maternal grandparents and I will keep ourselves active and healthy, and hopefully the impermanence of life will come to be understood in a positive context. I will teach her about spiritual energy, when she is old enough to understand such matters.

In the meantime, I will just be backing her up with prayers, and by holding her close, in a reassuring manner.

Drawn to the Light

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January 8, 2026- Hana and I had an hour of just the two of us, this evening. The rest of the family went to an Asian market, so grandmother could select foods with which to properly make some Korean dishes, which she’s wanted to fix since coming here.

Our darling girl took in her surroundings, as she does most of the time that she’s awake and not feeding. She watched me carefully, as I told her about the world being a largely beautiful place and that there will be many good things in her life, as well as challenging things. I told her that I would be there for her for as long as I am intended. After watching me for several minutes, she began to focus on the light in the next room. Perhaps her departed grandmother made her presence known, or maybe it was just the light to which her eyes were drawn.

It is well that we are more drawn to light than darkness. The latter is something that is best faced and illuminated. While it can be fascinating, darkness is the dearth of light. Those things that are constructive and regenerative are what most merit our attention. As my granddaughter, with no understanding of language, as yet, develops her ways of communicating, eventually including language skills, I sense that her orientation will be towards proactivity and clarity. She already knows that while sometimes crying and fussing are necessary to get her needs met, there are also plenty of times when we attend to her calmer body language.

May she always turn to the light.

The Penske Chronicles, Day 4

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December 29, 2025- The normally effusive server seemed terribly unnerved by something, knocking over water glasses and delivering a cup of coffee with a slightly shaking hand. I have been in a similar state, long ago, in a diner back East, so my empathy was present. Her more composed co-workers helped her keep steady, at least, and my meal was perfectly delicious. Still, I was concerned for her equilibrium and left a larger tip than usual.

This set me to thinking. Today’s post recognizes ten of the local people who made the most significant impressions on me, these past fourteen years. Not in order of importance, they are:

10. My hiking buddy, Akuura Kulak. Besides being equally enamoured as I am, of the beauty of the Southwest, and of Arizona in particular. We also have a similar appreciation for the cuisines of East and South Asia. She is a spot-on reader of people’s astrological charts and purveyor of scents, as well as essential oil blends.

9. My co-worker at Soup Kitchen, John Davidson. John is like the snarky dorm buddy that I missed more than I had thought. He is also a hard worker, running a local food pantry, as well as being a constant for Solid Rock Christian Fellowship’s community outreach activities.

8. My landlord, Robert Mosquera. Robert has never skimped on getting fixes for anything that has been out of order or broken, these past twelve years. Our complex is a simple operation, and his family occupies half of the units, but I still got more bang for my buck here than almost all of my friends in other rental situations in this area. Robert also was an enormous help today, getting a large sofa/hide-a-bed to Goodwill. It was one of those hard-to-sell items, but we got it done.

7. A consistent friend and supporter, Judy Russell. Judy has gone the extra mile in just about anything she’s done since moving here, 25 years ago. Service to our shared Baha’i Faith, to her apartment complex and to her employer, Yavapai College, has been exemplary. She was a great help, in housing my daughter-in-law, when Yunhee came here, in 2021, ahead of Aram, who was still in transit from Korea.

6. The Yetman Family: Carol and Dick, their daughter, Kathleen and her husband, Cole. This wonderful family has been instrumental in the success of Prescott Farmers Market, in the Solid Rock Soup Kitchen and in back-to-school supply events at Prescott United Methodist Church.

5. JayLene and David Long. The driving forces of Prescott’s premier fall event, Hope Fest, the Longs have transcended personal suffering and gone the distance to provide this community with a stellar faith-based day of service to the homeless and less-fortunate. The music is superb and the activities, from legal aid to haircuts, have given help to hundreds, if not thousands, over the years.

4. Molly and Gary Beverly. These farmers of Chino Valley have been driving forces in so many areas, but the greatest of these are Slow Food Prescott and Friends of the Verde River. Without SFP, school gardening initiatives might have languished and proper knowledge and respect for Heirloom agricultural products of Arizona might not have been as widespread. Without FVR, there may not have been a successful Save the Dells, which in turn has protected the Prescott area’s most unique natural wonder: Granite Dells. The Beverlys also have one of the finest farms in the area, and once had a natural swimming hole.

3. The Schaelling-Pena Family. Dharma Farm, the family of seven (and sometimes, ten), and Landen’s indomitable efforts at sustainable living and Permaculture, coupled with Holly’s gentle guidance of five beautiful children, made my occasional visits events that I could have enjoyed on a weekly basis. It was a tonic, being there and seeing young toddlers with a sense of responsibility for one another.

2. Carl Brehmer. One of the most erudite and skilled musicians I’ve ever known, a small farmer and craftsman, and certainly one of the most caring souls that the Prescott area, and our Baha’i community, can count on in a heartbeat. He was an earnest, loving caregiver to his late wife, Marcia, who also ranks as a powerful presence, with her work in fostering awareness of ADHD, both in children and in adults.

1. Meg Bohrman. Another of Prescott’s astonishingly-talented and caring musicians. Meg is everywhere, when there is a faith-based event or things like the Women’s March, the Tree-Lighting ceremony or anything sponsored by the Coalition for Compassion and Justice-or a chance for a concert by Galactogogues, or a solo stint. I first encountered Meg at a dedication event at the Unity Church, when she stood on the sidelines and cheerfully played her accordion. It’s been fabulous music ever since. Her husband, Thatcher, has been the quiet, supportive presence at just about every gathering she either headlines or performs in a supporting role.

A special mention begs here: Melissa Monahan, and her beautiful family, without whom a lot more time would have been needed for me to recover from the loss of my wife and from the missteps of the years that first followed that loss. Melissa has brought the healing element of do Terra, a commitment to true natural healing and the welcoming presence of a stable and loving family. She is also a local pioneer in the cultivation of microgreens and has been a sterling example, to me, of what it means to be a grandparent. She has arguably been my best friend in Prescott.

As with any short list, there is that roster that could go on forever. My life here would also not have been as rich and healing without my Prescott Cluster Baha’i family: John Lambert, his sister, Tammy and late wife, Margaret, Linda and Randy Smith,Gladys Stewart, Mary and John Passamani, Deb and George Konizer, Pamm Sosa, Dave and Annie Lovell, Steve and Tauby Calrow, Steve and Sharon Stone, Frank and Ellen Assadi, Claudia and Donny, Ellen Buccholz, Susan Bensch, Jerry Gardner; without Joe and Sandy Gorraiz and all the regulars at Ernest A. Love Post 6 of the American Legion; the Monday Coffee Klatsch ladies; Ashley Fine and her daughter, Sedona; Dawn Wasowicz, her daughters Arin and Brooke, and late husband, Jeff, who have made Rafter 11 such a staple of my weekends here; Allan, Bea, David, Glenda, Lloyd and Nichele-the Taco Tuesday regulars at El Gordo; The Cheektones, Jonathan Best, the Howard Brothers, Scandalous Hands, Candace Devine and Lake Francis Case, the grand family of Prescott musicians, who make the Raven, and the Courthouse lawn, so vibrant and experience; Annie Baker, Kaolin Young, Emily, Lena, JB Campos, Paul, Keaton, Marie and all those who make the Prescott Farmers Market such an integral part of anyone’s Prescott experience; Karen Pimentel, Tom Altavilla and my Red Cross family, who taught me the skills necessary to engender public safety; and finally, the workers and clientele at Monday’s Soup Kitchen: There is wisdom to be found in every soul’s story.

Tomorrow afternoon, I leave an empty and clean apartment, but I will never leave this beautiful place and all the people mentioned above, and more, in my mind and heart.

Not Overlooked

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December 16, 2025- The tall, soft-spoken man had become used to being overlooked. This morning, though, he was tired of it. When asked to wait for our Blood Donation center to finish being set up, he obligingly sat down. Then, things happened in rapid succession: The Center opened, ten people came through the door and lined up to be admitted, while he stayed seated. Once the line had been processed, the man was called over. He was livid.

He got an apology and was processed, then, still grousing about unfair treatment, he went to the donor interview seating area. One of those who had preceded him in line struck up a conversation, heard him out and offered to let him go ahead. That took the wind out of his angry sails and he calmed down. After a satisfying donation, he told the registration volunteers that they were not at fault, and wished everyone a Merry Christmas.

Many people in our society, and in large communities across the globe, feel overlooked, anonymous. Many indeed are. The human brain can only process just so much, and can only pay attention to just so many, before encountering someone who just doesn’t register, whose needs don’t compute. The brain is part of a physical system. It is finite, although it is also far more capable of achievement than most of us allow.

A lot of anonymity in society is due to spiritual dissonance. We are all primarily spiritual beings, living for a time in a physical frame. Those who don’t recognize their spirituality are far more likely to both feel overlooked and to compartmentalize their relationships with others. Isolation is a dangerous thing, both for the person experiencing it, and for those at whom the isolate, eventually, lashes out. Those who feel overlooked will eventually, invariably, find each other, and form groups with skewed visions of reality. Terrorism then ensues, either by someone acting alone or by the group.

The ISIS attack on American Army Reservists in Syria, over the weekend; the mass murder in Sydney; the murders of a conservative activist and an Uzbeki student, in Providence; and even the killings of Rob and Michele Reiner, all follow the pattern: One or more isolated people, to some extent or another exacerbated by mental illness, and in many cases separated from their true spirit (even if they claim to be acting on behalf of a Faith), and feeling misunderstood, lash out in a horrifying manner. They misunderstand their own nature, and taking the seeming indifference of others-who are themselves a bit cut off from their spirituality-as proof that they are owed retribution, lash out in a horrifying manner.

Each individual needs to know that s(he) is responsible for own spiritual education. Parents and adults close to a child can help him or her in that regard. Adults can help one another, but in the end, we each need to take agency for our spiritual existence.

Several of us heard the gentleman’s cry for recognition, this morning, and turned around what could have been an ugly situation. This can be done anywhere, if we recognize the Source of our lives and strive accordingly.