Camp Three, Day Three: Burritos, Enchiladas and Two Kinds of Salsa

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June 15, 2023, Bellemont- The Enchilada Lady called out on her bullhorn: “Comida, AHORA!”, announcing “Lunch, now!” Children and teens filed into the ramada in fairly short order. They chose from among the left-over burritos, fresh enchiladas and quesadillas, which the three mamas had lovingly prepared. There was plenty of salsa-hot and mild, but no beginner stuff. Chef, needless to say, was enjoying this respite-which ended with her spaghetti and meat sauce, this evening.

My day was filled with observing light repairs, helping lift a couple of generators over some rocks and answering whatever questions I could, from the property manager. He seemed generally pleased, overall, with how the camps are going. My instructions for tomorrow’s camp closing are quite clear.

After spaghetti and meat sauce, it was back to salsa. This time, though, it was salsa dancing. The campers and their chaperones swayed, jumped about and worked out any frustrations they may have accumulated-either here or before they arrived. There is much to be said for dance parties. It certainly made their last night at camp a treasure to be savoured.

This is the vibrant life of a connected community. It is why we need the energy of people from the southern part of our hemisphere, the productive, connected energy, that is, a lot more than they need to offer it. The people who are in our midst, for another morning at least, exude love, balance between work and play and a sense of community responsibility for the well-being of all children and youths in their group. They also look out for us, their hosts.

This is how it used to be, when I was growing up-before anonymity, isolation enabled by garage-doors as ingress and egress points and the casting of the chase after security as the primary goal of so many. The neighbours knew one another-often as friends, and they knew us, as if we were their own-because, in a sense, we were. The child who was cared for, who was valued, was less likely to cause trouble.

Here, for another ten hours, is the answer to much of what hurts America so. Here is the counterpoint to that with which so many associate our neighbour nations to the south: A strong family structure, telescoped into a strong community network.

Camp Three, Day Two: Cold Lava Tubes and A Warm Bonfire

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June 14, 2023, Bellemont– The tell-tale thump, after I had loaded the empty propane tanks into Sportage, for a short journey of refilling, turned into a learning exercise in putting together an inflation kit. The kit, when plugged into what used to be the cigarette lighter port, operates from the battery and puts enough air into most tires to get a vehicle to the nearest town-as long as it is not a hundred miles away. Like yours truly, Sportage does not any longer come with a spare tire.

“Town” being Flagstaff, twelve miles away, I managed to get to the Big O Tire outlet and when the service manager noted my long history with that company, my tire was repaired free of charge. Getting the propane tanks refilled was an easy next task.

The campers spent the afternoon in the Kendrick Park Lava Tubes, where they encountered ice-lots of it, on their carefully-picked way down. The tubes are icy and cold, ten months of the year- July and August being the exceptions, before ice re-forms as nights, at least, start to cool again in September. “September Swelter” is less of a thing in the High Country, at least for now.

When they returned, pizza awaited, after a brief period of unwinding. The campers, ranging in age from six to forty-six, were uniformly in awe of the Lava Tubes, having spent 2 1/2 hours picking their way along. After dinner, they rested further and finished the day with devotions, songs and s’mores, around the first campfire I have built in almost thirty years. The basics worked-pine needles on the bottom, then small sticks, short branches and the larger wood on the top. The campers were delighted and the day was another success.

Life itself daily features cold, followed by hot, and vice versa. Cormac McCarthy, who died yesterday, was first known to me through his “No Country for Old Men”- a chilling tale of a psychopathic genius on a mission of mayhem, in west Texas. McCarthy himself was a warm paragon of inspiration to amateur writers like me. His idea of heaven was to sit in a quiet spot and write his heart out. I fully intend to read his “The Road”, next week, as it concerns itself with fatherhood.

The day also featured a side drama, with someone far from here telling me, essentially, that she would show God a thing or two, and her Satan would show his power I calmly observed that Satan is a construct, and while dark energy can wreak havoc, when concentrated in an individual’s mind or in collective action, it has no creativity and no long-term strength. The Divine, the Creative Force, on the other hand, is enduring, is all about creativity and being unknowable, as to Essence, and is far beyond any man-made construct, no matter how appealing that construct may be to a fragile human ego.

People do what they do-and only action based on love will endure.

Camp Three, Day One: Comida Es Mas Deliciosa

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June 13, 2023, Bellemont- The day began at 5 a.m., as I had to leave Home Base to get up here in time for three van loads of campers, who were supposed to arrive at Noon-but something told me they would be here early, and besides, the water delivery truck was due to get here at 9:30.

It was a light traffic day, so I actually stopped at Brewed Awakening for a light breakfast and got here well in time for the delivery-no pun intended. The campers arrive at 11:15 and were able to get oriented and settled before lunch. I also had no trouble getting everything unlocked and set up, while they unwound a bit.

This is a smaller group than anticipated, but it is certainly a well-balanced and well-behaved party of 26. Three mothers accompanied the campers, which helps-as they have a gentle but firm set of expectations of the children, one which matches our own. The mothers also came with a feeding mission. They have a full menu plan, which they will prepare. This brought a smile to Chef’s face. She sat and was content to offer advice about the equipment, when asked.

My task was to run to a store and buy pillows and slips, for ten people. Fortunately, the items were available at a discount. The rest of the time was quite relaxed. As astrological signs point to a lifting of the tension that intermittently bothered many of us, these past five weeks, this first day of a 3.5 day session augurs well for a fairly calm camp.

The best thing about today, though, was the dinner. Red and white enchiladas were accompanied by rice and a rich sauce that resembled Louisiana Red Gravy. Mas sabor y delicioso!

First Camp, Day Six: Adios, But Not Goodbye

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June 7, 2023- Just as Al Martino sang those words to a hypothetical Mexican woman, back in the mid-sixties, I bid farewell to the forty amazing teenagers and adult minders,who have enriched my world, over the past six days. Wedding Anniversary Week has entailed some sort of spiritually-based service, since Penny passed on-and this year was no exception.

The range of humanity was here, in this group: There were Persians, Mexicans, Dineh, New Mexican Land-Grant Spanish, Tanzanians, African-Americans, Moroccans,Filipino-Koreans, Native Hawaiians, and a few of us Heinz 57 hybrids. There was little, if any, tension though. People were forthright about their wants, needs and concerns. Standing and sitting circle sessions, for both prayer and consultation, kept the water of harmony flowing. Small crises, like yesterday’s allergy attack, kept everyone with arms linked. Even a forlorn soul, speaking truth to the group about having felt “prejudice”, couched those remarks in a hopeful frame, looking forward to working towards increased acceptance.

Strong women and girls stood shoulder to shoulder with men and boys. People who are in a journey of discovery about their sexuality and gender identity walked alongside those of us who determined those aspects of ourselves a long time ago. Boomers and Gen-X’ers were readily accepted by Millennials, Gen-Z’ers and Alphas-and vice versa. Autistic people found a place among the neurotypical. This was a microcosm of what lies ahead for humanity.

Once the kids were on the road, I went about sanitizing the bunks, gathering and securing the trash bags, locking up the buildings and making the drive back to Home Base. Gasing up at Maverik, in Williams (The $ 3.50 price range has returned to Arizona!) and gumboing up, at Danny B’s, in Chino Valley, helped me get back in time for a crucial Zoom call.

A short Home Base break will allow for re-focus, before Camp 2 starts, in about 48 hours.

First Camp, Day Four: Overcoming Cold and Dark

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June 5, 2023, Bellemont- The power grid seemed to be playing cat and mouse with the girls and me. One young lady would come to me with a complaint about the lights going off, in their section of the bath house; I would toggle the relevant circuit switch and the lights were back. Five minutes later, I would get a text message from someone else, and go back and toggle again. The process happened a third time. Then, a chaperone reported that the power had gone out in the overflow women’s cabin.

That brought the AHA moment: The cabin in question was connected to the same breaker unit as the women’s bath house and there were three space heaters in use, at the time the power kept cutting off. The solution was to connect the cabin with a less-used circuit. There was no repeat of any outage.

Back in Prescott, a single mother who has fallen on hard times, only partly of her own making, has been messaging me with pleas for help. All I can do, either here or in Home Base, is encourage her to seek legal aid and the help of a social service agency. I will do so, ad nauseam if necessary, until the light shines through. Too often, people in trouble will insist on depending upon individuals to help them, whether psychologically or financially. The first only works when the prospective helper can be focused, in perpetuity many times. The second only works when he/she is both well-oiled and willing t.o share their money. Neither one will work, though, if the challenged soul is buried beneath a pile of victim blankets.

I have been in both situations. Fortunately, my victimhood was cut to pieces by family members who knew just the right combination of Good Cop and Bad Cop. I was out of the hole, within four years-but it took my own determination to get upright and stay that way. Conversely, I have had to be the Bad Cop with three people who came to me for help, would not help themselves, screamed and yelled that I was not solving their problems and ended up being cut off. I saw one of them later and learned he taken charge of his own life. His enablers were gone. Sometimes, rock bottom is what it takes.

No one is entitled to a bed of roses. My life only became good when I was willing to take responsibility for all of it. Teamwork makes things better, yes, and so does a measure of self-reliance-which requires self-respect. Thus may one dispel cold and dark.

First Camp, Day Three: A Spoonful of Sugar

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June 4, 2023, Bellemont- Mom says there are two ways to “draw flies”-honey and vinegar. The first draws more, of course. I will pass on drawing flies, but relating to teenagers is all about figurative honey: Understanding their minds and hearts, paying attention to their words as well as their actions, without butting into their conversations.

A young woman made a reference to someone as “respectfully creepy”. Since I was within earshot and line of sight, and my behaviour has not been “creepy”, and as she is a well-mannered person, I doubt that was a reference to yours truly. It is more likely with regard to one of her peers who is showing unwanted attention. Nonetheless, one must always be mindful of how attention to others is interpreted.

The chef decided, after a low key day that was concerned with study groups and an impromptu volleyball tourney-and little for me to do around campus, that a baked treat was in order. She served up a pan chocolate and butterscotch chip cookie- a bit soft and gooey, but definitely a hit with the campers-and several adult staff. I was the one serving, and for making sure that stragglers and loners got their share, was able to bond with more of the campers.

Millennials came up with the term “I appreciate you”, in expressing gratitude for kindnesses great and small. The succeeding two generations of youth have continued this nice practice, and we oldsters likewise have taken it into our own lexicon.

I draw a lot of strength from being with groups like this one. Camp is rejuvenating!

Where We Go

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May 20, 2023- I met a second cousin only once-long ago, at a family Christmas party. He could not have been more than three years old. Time passed, he became a grown man, most likely a father-and even more likely, did his level best at an honourable line of work. I can’t say for certain, because he died prematurely, a few days ago. His father, who survives him, has done his level best, in an honourable line of work, so there is a lot of hope in that regard.

I have no way to contact my cousin, but if that changes, I would say to him that. in addition to condolences, I know that he was a good parent, as was his wife. We can sense such things from a distance, even with people we never see or hear once separate paths have been taken. We can always tell, knowing even a small amount about struggles and triumphs, how a person’s life has gone, in general.

Today was spent preparing the grounds and buildings for a series of camps that will begin on June 2. The team that I will lead is to provide logistical support for those guiding groups of up to twenty youth or pre-teens. The guidance is not dogmatic, but is moral, ethical in tone. The young people, for the most part, come from disadvantaged families and neighbourhoods; yet they do have a capacity for learning discernment. It is that discernment that changes lives, communities-and even nations.

Where we go in life depends largely on the choices we make. Those choices only work to our advantage, if they are made with discernment, with information, with honest assessment. I am willing to bet that my departed second cousin lived well. God rest his soul.

Moms and Hearts

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May 14, 2023, Sparks- The young girl was all expectation and delight, as she left for an afternoon of cooking and honouring a friend’s mother. Three hours later, the same child returned to her home, crestfallen, on the verge of tears. Her grandmother, who had hosted us for a lovely Sunday dinner and watch party, took her place by the girl’s side, on a couch. My friend and I left, with quiet wishes that all would be better for her soon.

Another child, cousin to the girl mentioned above, is expectantly planning to be in a play, later this summer. Her mother and grandmother are carefully arranging the participation of various friends in supporting her efforts-and she expressed the hope that I will be there, when the play is staged, in late July. The women will remind me, though that is not necessary, for a child I have long regarded as a grand niece.

A mother who joined a virtual meeting earlier today was philosophical about not being able to see her family, as both she and her husband are in the late stages of recovery from COVID, and are waiting for final clearance from their physician, before taking a chance on visiting any loved ones. Her poker face fooled no one. She is no doubt in constant communication with both children and grandchildren, and will give them all they need of love and attention, in a fairly short time.

Mother’s Day was born in 1870, with the mothers of those killed and maimed, from both sides in the Civil War, coming together to seek healing, both for themselves and for their families, in the wake of the most horrific conflict this nation has ever seen. While the second Sunday in May has now largely assumed a festive air, there is still the basic element of heart sharing, in the course of the day.

My own observation of Mother’s Day is muted, to outward semblance. Mom doesn’t answer her phone, so sending her greetings and a small gift is all that physically transpires. from my end. We have a strong spirit connection, though, so that when I do manage to connect with her, in conversation, she will happily let me know that she felt blessed today. She will also be able to tell, by the sound of my voice, how I am doing, on that day. It has always been thus, between us.

The love of a mother, and of a grandmother, is the bedrock for just about anyone’s functioning, through life’s ups and downs.

Rising, and Being Raised

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May 13, 2023- The objections offered by the woman sitting in the next room, to the Disney versions of classical children’s stories, which her child, grandchildren-and yours truly were watching, were cogent and well-taken. A woman does not need a dashing man of means to swoop in and solve her problems. A human being does not need another, more “superior” human being to decide how life’s difficulties may be overcome.

Those problems and difficulties are best solved by the person facing them, though they are NOT always to be resolved by one soul, singly and alone. There are reasons why we have issues to overcome and there are reasons why we encounter the people we do, including the parents, children, siblings, friends and adversaries in our lives. Each person has something of value to impart, even if it comes in the form of a challenge or setback.

A couple of times today, I found myself admonishing the little boy in the house I was visiting-a place where I am regarded as a brother and as an uncle. His well-being, and that of his sister and cousins, is of great importance to me. So, I speak up, sharply when needed, and calmly the rest of the time. My lesson, though, was to remind myself that his understanding of life is limited-he’s only f our years of age, and controlling impulsivity is a work in progress. Still, keeping the little one safe from physical harm is a duty of every person older than he. Guiding him to not harm others is also a major concern.

There is a further consideration here. Each of us, in addition to (hopefully) raising the young people around us, is also raising self. Parents and nearby adults (again, hopefully) do the best they know how in raising us. The job is not complete, however, when one reaches the age of 18, 21 or 25. Most of the heavy lifting, from those milestones of maturity onward, falls to the individual soul. We can, many times, consult our elders on a continuing basis, but the final choice is our own.

I learn something new about my remaining challenges, both ongoing and novel, each and every day. How I deal with them, what I choose to do, is not on anyone else. I’ve never been Prince Charming, and have never known a Fairy Godmother, or a Sleeping Beauty. The joys and sorrows that have come from each of the friendships and familial ties I have known, though, are more than enough to inform what I need to do, going forward.

If I can offer the same to the children in my life, that is all that is needed.

Shifting Tides

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May 7, 2023- My comments this morning were not glossed over, or dismissed, by the moderator. It seems that there is more of a rooted sense taking over the monthly discussion of Baha’u’llah’s early responses to a Sufi mystic, entitled “The Seven Valleys and The Four Valleys”. There was a good deal less intellectual posturing than in previous sessions. My anecdotes did not fall on deaf ears, in any event.

Another sign that sentiments are moving more towards the center, and away from extremes, was our conversation, earlier this morning, at the Post 6 Breakfast. A random plaint about transgender people demanding their rights was brushed aside by the rest of the group, who are now more concerned about firearms safety than they were even two weeks ago. The plague of random gun attacks, by the very people who see their world crumbling, has begun to stir a sense of outrage among those conservatives on whom the White Supremacists are depending for support. Overkill, some it literal murder, tends to do that.

We humans, no matter what our individual politics are, trend towards sociability. Even self-styled introverts need affirmation from other people. We cherish our right to self-expression, and we honour our responsibilities towards family, community and the greater entities we call state and nation. Some of us even can see to honour responsibilities towards the planet as a whole, much as we would bristle at any ad hoc authority coming in and calling himself the Sovereign of Planet Earth. We want a say in who runs our affairs, and rightfully so.

Along those lines, I read, with alacrity, a piece by Phoenix-based columnist Greg Moore, cautioning about the advances in Artificial Intelligence. My take, in a nutshell, is that the singularity feared by Mr. Moore, and others-including the founder of Google, will only come to pass if mankind gives AI too many passes. I don’t install all that many applications on either my phone or my laptop. I don’t access Siri or any other “office assistant”, primarily because it’s so much more satisfying to look for information on my own. Artificial intelligence is, by definition, man-made, human-bestowed, and, as a friend who follows the advances in the field wryly observed this morning, is incapable of expressing emotion, having deep feelings, without a human being programming it so. Feelings are what impart strength and meaning to a decision.

The tides are shifting, in a good many areas, towards the expression of reason, combined with loving energy.