Seventy-One: The Wrap

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November 27, 2022, Grapevine- The dignified, courteous waiter brought the courses in order: Fresh bread; stuffed mushrooms, sitting atop a bed of cream sauce; garden salads; pasta dishes (Chicken Jerusalem; Rigatoni and, for me, Lasagna). The last was not the common, 3-5 layers stuffed with ricotta, spinach and ground beef/succhini. This was a delicate, two-layered lasagne, an elongated, open ravioli-type pasta with a sublime filling of ground beef and mozarella, covered, but not swimming, in sumptuous marinara. Another variation of one of my favourite Italian dishes-and heaven on a fork. Spumoni and Italian coffee topped off this day-early birthday meal, taken at Grapevine’s Cafe Italia, truly a hidden gem.

Tomorrow, when I actually turn 72, is a back-to-work day for Yunhee and. in the evening, a service time for me, so a Sunday celebration it was. For now, though, having followed the epicurean meal with a walk along Mill Creek, which is flowing at quite a robust level today, it is time to reflect on the past twelve months.

This was a year of catching cold, but not COVID. It was a year of planes, trains, ferries, two SUVs and a pair of Greyhound buses. Key West was followed,three months later, by L’Anse aux Meadows. A pair of drunkards, six months apart, tried to devalue me as a human being, and failed, in both cases. A couple of young ladies, two weeks apart, pointed out a blind spot in my own character-and provided a goal for the coming year: Use words, as well as expressions and gestures.

It was a year of Andersonville and the Tuskegee Airmen; Seminoles and Micmaqs; Astronauts and Vikings; down-home cooking in Whycocomagh, Crossville, Mishawaka & Oley; upscale fare at Cooks & Soldiers-and at Farm Provisions. (All of it prepared with love, so to my palate, there is no difference in satisfaction.) It was a year of Sonesta Midtown and Casa Remuda; of House of Trestles, Bikini Hostel, Gram’s Place, Quisby House; of Auberge St.Lo, Blueberry Patch Cabins, Three Bears Inn, Fair Isle Motel and Abbie’s Garden. Within the last twelve months, there appeared before me the Parthenon of Nashville, Natchez Trace, Cape Breton Highlands, Gros Morne, Big Cypress, Lake Ontario, the Overseas Highway, Marland Mansion, Craters of the Moon-and the Amitabha Stupa.

Friends came and went, but most stayed. I will miss Dharma Farm and Synergy Cafe, at least for a while-but Hiking Buddy, the Pieper family, the Prescott Cluster Baha’is, and my extended family from California to Florida, on up to Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, pinging back to Idaho and Nevada-and all points in between, are a core of my being.

Of those who left this year, Kevin Locke, Jim Seals and Thich Nhat Hanh enkindled the spirit; watching Yvette Mimieux, when I was only nine, affirmed that my heart would always be drawn to girls and women, first and foremost; Nichelle Nichols and Sacheen Littlefeather showed that any typecasting of a talented human being is a fool’s errand; Mikhail Gorbachev showed that a person can redeem himself, by embracing a wider view.

There were those whose departure shrank the window on my childhood and adolescence: Harry and Gisele Surabian, Carmine Moschella, Philomena Mattei, George McCarrier. Jr., Chuck Shipulski, Danny Rossetti, Bill Warren, Ron Napolitano, Uncle Tim Lynch and Aunt Helen Connolly. Of more recent vintage, Gene Gertler, Gregory Gooch, Mona Gilstrap and my last living father figure, Jarrod Fellman each left their mark on my psyche.

There were also the hallmarks of continuity: Two friends were married on Memorial Day and a tough little boy made it into this world on November 9. I took on more crucial roles at Baha’i Unit Convention and with the Red Cross. With those, I am reminded that life surges on, and in the end, it merely changes form.

The Next Needful Steps

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November 25, 2022, Grapevine- I). In mid-1984, while Penny and I were presenting on a Baha’i theme, at a diverse gathering of people, in Spring, TX, northwest of Houston, we were interrupted by an indignant person, who wanted to know by what authority any white people could recommend such simplistic actions as we were describing to a largely black audience.

The articulate, lovely Sharon made several valid points, not the least of which was that people become “schooled” in the experiences of their audience, before addressing issues through a lens that is not necessarily applicable to said audience. That we were taken aback by “hostility” to “a loving message” seems quaint now-after Rodney King, James Byrd, Jr., Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, Breanna Taylor, George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and countless other victims, beaten or killed while in various degrees of doing daily activities-and all because others were addressing issues through a lens not applicable to the presenting situation.

Penny later taught children several lessons that involved seeing through different coloured lenses. That was a good first step, and I have been left to take further steps in gaining increased awareness, applying lessons imparted in books to my daily life. As with any other aspect of life, through which I’ve stumbled, understanding and embracing people of colour is an exercise in mindfulness, translated to action.

II.) The good-natured, playful girls saw me watching their activity, in the afternoon classroom, and decided to teach a lesson of their own, by staging a staring contest. I “blinked” first, and gave them the “win”. A few weeks earlier, similar vigilance, at a different school, was described as discomfiting, by the young woman who was clearly trying to get out of doing her assignment, though for valid personal reasons.

A residual aspect of my autism leads me to observe people in a situation, often not speaking at first. This has, as indicated above, landed me in hot water, to a limited extent, over the years-with women, girls, interracial couples, gay people. I have set two goals, to be achieved sooner, rather than later: 1. Engage such people in conversation, immediately, rather than stare at them for even a few seconds. 2. Make my purpose in attending to them clear, in an articulate manner. There is nothing to be gained from being tentative or hesitant. People are not zoo animals.

Approaching the start of my seventy-third year, the next needful steps in improving my interactions with others are crystal clear. Everyone deserves to know my heart, not misinterpret my mind.

A Non-Starter

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November 21, 2022- Both of us are respectful of electricity and its power, being careful to avoid mishandling the pair of battery jumper cables. Friend was glad to hand off the task of attaching the cables cables to me. I did so, easily enough, but when I started Sportage and tried the same with the problem vehicle- crickets. As a “door is ajar” warning sound continued to ding, even when all doors were closed, I suspect a short in the wiring. I gave friend a ride to a place of lodging, and he will resume dealing with the matter tomorrow morning, hopefully with help from his insurance carrier.

This was nearly the last task to occupy me today, before my flight to Dallas, early Tuesday. The day mostly consisted of accompanying a 10-year-old student from one class to another. She is soft-spoken around adults, but is very much independent and seemingly in charge of her disability, rather than the other way around. The day went well, and her teacher asked me to consider taking on the task full-time. While it might be better for a younger, female paraprofessional to do the job day-to-day, I am not ruling it out for the second semester.

The last task was to conduct a Baha’i study of social action formulae. We came close to finishing the unit, but my purpose is to generate meaningful discourse, which indeed came out of our study of three sections. leaving two to examine, next Monday evening. This will mean my birthday dinner will be an early event, which I prefer anyway.

After a bit of packing for tomorrow, it was early to bed- with joy at a productive day.

Delivering, not Sniveling

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November 19, 2022- I walked carefully into the American Legion Post general meeting, about 15 minutes before it actually started. Wearing my face mask, as vestiges of my cold could put others at risk, I took my usual seat, and was surprised, though hardly discomfited, to find every other seat at the normally half-empty table well-occupied. The full hall meant that there would be a fairly intense discussion of various items, and there was. My voice being still scratchy, I spared the gathering of my opinions, agreeing with much of what others said, anyway. At the end, all were treated to a rich and flavourful home-baked enchilada pie and salad items.

Though I missed Farmers Market and Zeke’s, this week, also due to wanting to heal as completely as possible, before Tuesday’s flight and out of consideration for those in fairly crowded situations, the day was busier than I had initially planned. The ton of laundry, including the bed linens, finally was properly washed and dried. That took close to three hours. A hokey version of “Van Helsing’ palye din the background, with the vampire slayer taking on a Man-Fish (or a man in silly fish mask, with a Central Casting monster voice), and freeing the young adult daughter of a distraught couple, from Fishy Boy’s grasp (all this, despite VH’s having been skewered, at least three times, by Mr. Fish, or one of his minions).

In the early evening, I returned to Rafter Eleven, for the first time in about five weeks, to find that Dawn & crew have added lunch and dinner items to their Bill of Fare. It was a great delight to my palate, to have Chicken Pot Pie for an actual solid dinner. This brings Rafter into the “Dinner and A Show” level, and made listening to the jazz trio that much more enjoyable. I will be over there more regularly, once back from Dallas.

There Are Oils for This

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November 18, 2022- I got sick, in the process of working in a Special Needs class, the previous two days, most likely a result of going full-speed ahead on other projects, earlier in the week and the ubiquity of sick children, sent to school for any of a number of reasons.

The treatments (self-administered) came hard and heavy. Following the guidance in do Terra’s “Modern Essentials”, a regimen of Oregano Oil in water, a mix of digestive blend and cellular complex blend in another glass of water, Life-long Vitality Supplements, Red Yeast Rice, ProstaStrong and Lutein, separately taken over the course of the day, has helped knock out the Nasty ( bad cold, and definitely not showing up as COVID).

Essential oils, used properly, have enhanced my overall health and have made my early 70s a lot more life-affirming and engaged than might otherwise be the case. There are also the examples of my parents, who did not avoid work because of illness. This was true of them, to a fault, and the same shows up in me. This bout of common cold is one of those 4-or 5-year things, but as always it is a sign telling me to slow down. By the time Tuesday’s flight to DFW is imminent, I fully expect the cold to be done and over with-so the regimen goes on, in the interim- as does a good night’s sleep.

There are essential oils for just about any ailment.

A Whirlwind Is Still A Force of Nature

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November 16, 2022- There are two competing children in the class where I am working today, tomorrow and Monday. They don’t particularly like one another, the one being fun-loving, feisty and given to salty language and the other grasping, yet surly at the same time, and given to thought-salads, asking for one activity, then going on to another, and another, within a span of two minutes. Both are capable of mayhem, yet the first child will explode, execute the mischief and calm down within a 2-3 minute timeout. The other, in my opinion dangerously over-age for the classroom, does not struggle much, fortunately, but stores his insolence, taking it out on the teachers and classmates-at random moments.

We have a protocol that has one staff member sitting close to the second student and gently bringing him back to his seat when he gets up to see what mischief he can cause. The first child basically just wants to dance, fairly gracefully, and do the assignments given-but in her own way, Both could be nurtured in good work habits, if a 1:1 could be arranged for them. A whirlwind, as destructive as it tends to be, is still a force of nature, energy that could conceivably be turned into a beneficial power source-though admittedly, the technology that would make that feasible is a long way off. We are closer to harnessing the strengths of even the most unruly student, but we need to overcome a paralysis of will in education, especially in public education. It will take a massive amount of energy, from parents, educators and community-at-large, especially the business community, to replace the drive towards homogeneity with a culture that once again values innovation and individual initiative.

I will have more to say, after tomorrow’s events. Yet, a whirlwind is still a force of nature.

Healing Energy

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November 13, 2022- I felt some change-of-seasonsitis coming on, last night, so I did what I always do in such cases. I took a spoonful of elderberry syrup and crawled underneath a bundle of covers. The covers helped me sweat whatever it was out. In turn, this allowed me to attend breakfast at the Legion Post, host a Zoom call and join another, work out at Planet Fitness and enjoy a fine meal with my Hiking Buddy.

It’s been worse, in the past. Some years, change-of-seasonitis kept me in bed, for 24 hours. If it were COVID, I’d probably be in bed for a week to ten days. So far, though, that hasn’t happened. Having O+ Blood may be responsible for that good fortune, though that immunity may be an old wives’ tale.

Mostly, though, I credit healing energy for the relatively good track record. Part of it comes from doing devotions every day and the other part comes from acting on those devotions. We talked about that in the first Zoom meeting, this morning. Thanksgiving, gratitude, has to be sincere-not perfunctory, if one wishes to genuinely partake of what is good in life. This sincerity should be in place for everything from answering a daily “Good morning, have a nice day”, on social media to paying one’s fair share of taxes, when the time comes.

It also involves being patient and flexible-things which have attached themselves to me, over the past three decades or so. After all, everyone, in their own space, is facing challenges that have nothing to do with what anyone else is facing. So, we can all send out healing energy and adjust our schedules to help others, when the occasion merits.

I’m grateful for each person in my life, even if I can’t give certain people what they seem to want of me. I am appreciative of what they give to me.

The First Snow

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November 3, 2022- It mostly danced in the air, before fluttering to its melting place, on the still warm dirt and asphalt. A crew is working diligently, to put in a sidewalk, along the south side of Goodwin Street, between the American Legion Post and Prescott Public Library. Snow was just a minor distraction, for them and for those of us who were going about minor business. I chose a rather salty, but bracing, bowl of chili from Olde World Bakery, for lunch. It was hot, though not spicy-and that was okay. It was a good counter to the unseasonable cold outside.

I awoke this morning to a wintry feeling inside myself, tapping into the strange energy that has been afoot since last week’s attack on the Speaker of the House’s husband. Violence should never be the butt of jokes, but then, neither should a disability, a debilitating disease or even a person’s physical attributes. Such humour only delineates the teller’s, and audience’s, lack of maturity. A while later, after getting myself together, doing devotions and checking the news, I got an e-mail asking that I serve as a Poll Chaplain, in the city of El Mirage, west of Phoenix, on Tuesday afternoon and evening.

Tuesday, November 8, is also the day of a full moon and of a total lunar eclipse. Cosmic guides say that this year’s eclipses have the energy of those which took place in 2004, and thus unresolved matters from that year may arise again this year, for resolution by way of the growth one has undergone since that time. 2004 was part of the time when I was starting to see Penny decline, and starting to deal with a few personal demons. Those have been defeated and expunged, over the past eight years. I will, though, be more cognizant of any residue that needs to be removed and let flow out. The same will be true of each year going forward: Eclipses may bring out old issues from eighteen years prior, and any spiritual learning I have acquired in the interim may be put to use, in dispersing the old energy.

Tonight, the snow has ended, and more seasonal weather lies ahead-with perhaps rain on Election Day. I’ve already voted, but will be there for those, in El Mirage, who are experiencing anxiety or distress.

The Carson Loop, Day 9: No Conference, Just Connection

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October 23, 2022, Carson City- The would-be hostess apologized for being too ill to let us enter. The devotional, scheduled for this afternoon, would also have fit the definition of community conference, which is an integral part of the Baha’i plan for the nine years 2022-2031. We can focus on building community, strengthening relationships, with all people.

Leaving that residence, the four of us, two children, their grandmother and me, headed instead to a Mexican-style ice cream parlour: Michoacan A Pedir de Boca. It was cold outside, but no matter- I was more than glad to treat my hosts to some of the best confections to come out of the Mexican state of Michoacan.

They next decided to head to a nearby WalMart, usually not my idea of a good time, but with kids, anything can become fun. Most of the time was spent in the crafts section, with a bit of food shopping at the end. The 3.8 year-old is into clocks and bells. He spotted a red numerical analog clock, and was able to tell the time. So, it became his, along with a Pre-Kindergarten activity book, covering a variety of learning skills. His older sister, who has been like a grandniece to me, from the day she was born, and whose birthday is tomorrow, will get a few books to pique her interest. For V, though, the main thing she wants from anyone in her life is connection, and the knowledge that she means a lot to those around her. That is a given, and will remain so, as long as I draw breath.

It has only been a huge life-affirming element for me to have been connected to this family, since the mid-1980s. Penny felt the same way. They are, collectively, among three such clans, besides my own biological extended family, to whom I have an ineradicable tie. I can see, because of the strength this has given me, that the number of such families will only grow, as time goes on.

The Carson Loop, Day 8: Being Ourselves

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October 22, 2022, Carson City- There was big news out of Grapevine, this afternoon. Aram received his Chief Petty Officer pins, and will now serve in that capacity, in the U.S. Naval Reserves. He will continue to work on his Baccalaureate-and he will earn that, as well. We are a determined lot, we Boivins, as were/are our Fellman relatives.

My day here in Carson was spent with an equally determined bunch, the Smith/Carrillo/Sandoval extended family. The running conversation centered on something especially dear to my heart-the right of each person to be self. It was pointed out that most of the difficulties facing society, both here in the United States, and globally, stem from failure of people to accept each other as they are. Much of this, in turn, seems to come from personal insecurity, and as was pointed out, in another conversation, earlier this week, the notion of zero sum; if one person, or group, achieves or gets something, others stand to lose what’s theirs. This line of thinking has fostered everything from civil wars to the begging culture that arose from colonialism. It was certainly behind the brief episode of screaming and yelling that occurred last night, while I was walking along, and minding my own business. It is behind sibling rivalry, oneupmanship and people talking over each other, or interrupting someone who has the floor, and is speaking in measured tones, or haltingly.

It took a very long time for me to value who I am. I made a lot of progress in that regard, over the course of my 29-year marriage and, thus far, 34 + years of parenthood. I have had precious little trouble accepting everyone else, for who they are, but myself? It’s only, really, been since 2014, that I have been 100% okay with me.

My extended family members, one in particular, stressed that this concept is actually one of the primary keys to the growth of a peace culture, to wit: Parents should lay off pushing their children to follow a narrative that is primarily designed to fulfill the wishes of the parents, and not their own. This affects everything from mistaking a phase in the child’s life for an indicator of his/her destiny to fulfilling, for the parent(s), a long cherished dream, which is NOT necessarily the child’s own, to the attitude that so many have towards people who disagree with them, even on relatively mundane matters.

The consensus of our conversation today was: Let us each be, and love, ourselves.