Category Archives: Personal goals

The Road to 65, Mile 88: Visits

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February 24, 2015, Prescott- This afternoon, I went to a longtime friend’s house, which is in a heavy road construction zone, for a two hour visit.  She’s been deathly ill, for some time now, and only prayers, oil blend supplements (to help with pain) and a listening ear can be offered by yours truly.  After parking down the hill from her home, and negotiating the mud, above-ground sewer pipes and trenches, I brought in a small gift and heard her recollections of childhood and early adulthood.

She and her loving husband have each had a remarkable and productive life.  Her knowledge of antiques has helped preserve a great deal of the heritage central Arizona, and she has contributed much to the Baha’i community here, over more than 40 years. The tradition of elegance that emanates from this little house, on a venerable street in Prescott, will not easily fade.

Visits, especially to the seriously ill, are a key component of any community worthy of the name.  Perhaps the worst fate anyone can suffer is to be forgotten.  So, as often as we each can, the members of this little community call on one another, and keep a close watch on the ones who can’t get out.

This is actually quite a step forward for yours truly, having been happily in a bubble when I was in my twenties.  It’s probably the finest habit imparted to me by my late wife, and she would have been fit to be tied, had I reverted to hermitage.

The Road to 65, Mile 87: Choices

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February 23, 2015, Prescott- When I was deep in mourning, and on the road, one of my closest friends reminded me that everything one does, regardless of circumstances, is the consequence of choice. I got a call, this morning, at 5:47, from one of the districts for which I work.  I was not quite able to wrap my head around getting it together, and opted for a bit more sleep.  On days like this, I am well aware of the consequence, both immediate and down the road.  So have I learned to not blame others for much of anything.

Ann Landers once said, “No one can take advantage of you, without your permission”.  How true, and how often disconcerting. One must have clear boundaries.  The people we let into our lives are going to have expectations and are going to pursue agendas, which may or may not be in keeping with our own goals and plans.  It is up to each of us, whether to play a particular game, or opt out.

Without making conscious choices, a life gets bogged down and the person living it, dependent, bitter and often self-harming.  I have known many, besides myself, who defer decisions, based on excuses and the notion that “Conditions aren’t quite right”. Conditions will never be just so!

The other “tool” that the takers of this world employ, all too well, is guilt.  I have learned to sleep very well at night, doing what I can for the dispossessed and others in need, without going so far as to put myself among their number, through reckless spending at the loud insistence of guilt-mongers.

There is simply no substitute for taking responsibility for one’s own actions and beliefs.

The Road to 65, Mile 86: Heirlooms

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February 22, 2015, Prescott- My paternal grandmother would have turned 116 today, a rather sobering thought.  Her cooking, for a family of thirteen, depended almost entirely on organically-grown fruits, vegetables and animals.  After World War II, as my father and his siblings grew up and the nest became empty, my widowed Nana went to the market and bought the freshest foods she could, paying little mind to the processed and packaged foods that were increasingly on the shelves and in the freezers.  She liked the unsalted flat crackers that came in a long box, but everything else had to be frais.

We’ve slid a long ways downhill since those days.  I encountered a lot of unhealthy offerings, in my recent travel across  Texas and the Gulf Region.  There were also several glimmers of hope, in the small artisan and organic cafes of the Panama City area, in New Orleans and in the West Texas desert.  Heirloom seeds and the Ark of Taste represent sincere, concerted efforts to turn these glimmers of hope into a shining sun, with respect to diet.

The most recent issue of National Geographic Magazine makes note of the controversy over Genetically Modified Organisms, including it as one of the “War on Science” concerns, on its cover.  Inside, the actual article barely mentions GMO’s, saying only that “We are asked to eat” them, and “There is no evidence that they are harmful”.  This last conclusion may be true, with regard to some people, much as it’s true that not everyone dies after smoking cigarettes for five or ten years.  Longitudinally, though, no one knows.  Does that mean we should shuck it all, and make such foods our staples?  In my opinion, no.

This evening, I helped serve a dinner, comprised of Ark of Taste food items, including Navajo Churro Lamb, wheat berries, chilipati and okra.  There are over 100 items, worldwide, which have qualified for Ark of Taste.  The Ark is an international effort to preserve foods and beverages whose ingredients have become endangered.  It is a culinary version of the International Seed Bank, Longyearbyen, Norway.  The Ark exists mainly through the efforts of growers, ranchers and culinary workers, in the areas of production.  Its list of ingredients is growing, through a careful evaluation process, that emphasizes strict organic farming and animal husbandry.

Slow Food Prescott, of which I am a member, puts on this dinner every January or February.  Other Slow Food groups, in several communities around the world, offer a similar meal.  I believe educating oneself on the Ark of Taste is another step in overcoming the mindset of false convenience, in one’s daily diet.

The Road to 65, Mile 84: Arcaneness

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February 20, 2015, Prescott-

There has come out of Phoenix, over the past several months, a concern with Common Core- the Federally-initiated set of loose education standards, which are intended to be tweaked to the needs of states and localities.  Because the Federal guidelines are so general, Common Core has appeared, to the average person, as a mishmash of convoluted lesson plans and circumlocution.

In most instances, Common Core has been fit to the state levels by panels of local educators.  The overriding concern, however, has been the mere fact that it is a byproduct of FEDERAL initiative.  There has been a fair amount of obfuscation and deliberate taking things out of context, so as to change education back to- “Heck, I don’t know.  Just make it something patriotic, adulatory of the Founding Fathers, pro-sports, useful for getting minimum-wage jobs, keeping the riff-raff in their place, and making Might the Master of Right.”

The only move the critics of Common Core have made thus far, here in the Grand Canyon State, is to institute a mandatory Civics Test, for those wanting to graduate high school.  That’s fair enough.  People who master Civics are less likely to be bamboozled.  All the same, there is nothing in Common Core that forbids or discourages mastery of Civics, or of any other subject.  We had a few years ago, in the Dysart Unified School District, in Surprise, AZ, west of Phoenix, something called Core Learning.  There were, in the social studies classes in which I taught, off and on, specific units on which it was felt everyone should focus:  The War for Independence, Slavery, the Civil War, World Wars I and II, the Great Depression.  I filled in the gaps, though it was discouraged by the administrators.  Several students, though, were more than glad to examine the Industrial Revolution, Gilded Age, the Spanish-American War and the Dust Bowl.

My point is that Common Core is a basic framework, not United Nations mandated indoctrination.  There are frivolous, off-center lesson plans being advanced in its name, but these have occurred in the names of any of its predecessors, from “A Nation At Risk” to “The First Days of School”, as well as “No Child Left Behind”.  Arcaneness is a peculiarly American aspect of education, more reflective of our freedom of expression, than of any Globo-stomp, Monolithic control of what kids learn.

I had these thoughts as I supervised groups of middle school students, who were working on learning somewhat arcane computer design applications, during the course of today.

The Road to 65, Mile 74: Reversing Course and Meeting Butterflies

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February 10, 2015, Gainesville, FL-This has been one of those days when I am reminded that deeds done by others, with the best of intentions, can backfire and take innocent people down with them.  It just makes me weigh my own words and deeds that much more carefully. In a nutshell, my mother-in-law said she didn’t want any visitors, including me.

I was ten miles away, at that point, and so turned around, in south Ocala, feeling quite calm, actually.  I think my angel was carrying me through the rest of the day.  I had two confirmations:  One was stopping at Jim’s BBQ Pit, in Reddick, just north of Ocala.  A bubbly, very pretty young lady served me as if she were serving her father, or a favourite uncle.  The food was comfort, also:  Smoked chicken, barbecued beans and slaw, with a fabulous house barbecue sauce.

The second stop of the afternoon was Florida Museum of Natural History, on the campus of the University of Florida, at Gainesville.  The institution traces the state’s varied conditions and changes, focusing on the Pleistocene and on some of the Indigenous peoples, who pre-dated the Seminole and were ancestors of the Miccosukee.  The icing on the cake, for me this afternoon, was the Butterfly Rain Forest.

The Pleistocene exhibit’s star is the Colombian mammoth skeleton.  Colombian mammoths ranged south of their woolly cousins, and had finer hair.

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A Mastodon was featured next to the shovel-tusker, for comparison.  Mastodons ranged in north Florida, as well.

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A family of Paleo-Indians was shown in the next hall. Florida’s indigenous people had a very rich culture and system of governance, well before Europeans arrived here.  The Apalachee, of the northwest, and the Calusa, of the southwest, were powerful, savvy and industrious people, pre-dating the great council-oriented Creeks, who became Seminoles, once they came down to Florida, with the British, in the 1700’s.

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My attention was spotty at this point, so while I read and absorbed some of the remaining information about the Native Peoples, I needed nature.  So, off to the Butterfly Rain Forest it was.  The following pictures, presented without comment, represent a cross-section of the Lapidoptera and their surroundings.  See how many butterflies you can spot.

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Butterflies are vital, in a variety of ways.  There is some attention here to Monarchs, but also to Swallowtails and Blues.  I recommend this to all residents and visitors to the Gainesville-Ocala area.  After such a rejuvenating afternoon, I headed north and spent a restful night in Bainbridge, GA, north of Tallahassee.  Glen Oaks Motel and a salad from Zaxby’s, served by another pretty, congenial young lady, capped the day.  Actually, a Zalad can make three meals, for someone like me.

The Road to 65, Mile 70: Seeds for Future Fruits

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February 6, 2015, El Paso-  Day One of my present journey started with a round of prayers, at the home of my steadfast morning devotions partner.  Getting my car’s tires rotated and balanced was the next order of business, along with a “Cheater’s Breakfast” of cinnamon crumb Bear Claw and coffee.  No apologies to the Diet Police are in order.

I set out around 11:30, headed through my oft-trod route of I-17, AZ 101 and US 60, past the Valley of the Sun, the Superstition Mountains, and across eastern Arizona and southern New Mexico. There were few stops, as my late start dictated making tracks.  Dinner was healthy, grilled cod and lightly steamed mixed vegetables at Kranberry’s, the best restaurant in Lordsburg, NM.  The day ended with a gorgeous 3/4 moon, rising over Las Cruces, as I made one last stop at the Rest Area,just west of town.  Then, El Paso came into view, thirty minutes later and I settled into this comfortable Red Roof Inn.

I have not taken photos of the intervening locales, as they will be subjects of weekend excursions between this March and December, 2016.  The delights are many:  More of the Superstitions; Superior and Boyce Thompson Arboretum; Globe and Miami; San Carlos Apache Community; the flats of Graham County and their eponymous mountain; the Duncan Valley and, to its north,  the Graham-Greenlee Trail, roughly between Safford and Clifton.  Then, too, there remain a return to Silver City and Gila Cliff Dwellings, a possible astronomy weekend, somewhere outside Lordsburg, and a few hours in the Deming area.

See how this whole road trip thing is a series of Chinese boxes, or Katuschka dolls?  Well, the missions are always manifold- Prayers, spiritual conversations, and educating about oils are parts of any journey, beyond just seeing things and taking photos.  So, I will head on over to breakfast, as it’s already Saturday morning- and bring my supplements with me.  Health is a fine conversation starter.

The Road to 65, Mile 67: Deferred Attention

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February 3, 2015, Prescott- Television stayed off today.  I did not go to morning prayers, nor did I even get out of bed until 10 AM.  Of course, getting home at 3:30 AM had everything to do with that.  My respite at home will be brief.  Some here in Prescott will wonder, again, why on Earth I even bother coming back here.  There were three key elements at play:  I took part in the commemoration of the deaths of four Navy Chaplains, in the sinking of the USS Dorchester, off the coast of Greenland,on February 3, 1943.  This is an emotional time for those who served in World War II, and many who served later, in the Korean Conflict.  It is significant in that four noncombatants gave the ultimate sacrifice, choosing to die, alongside 653 others, rather than mount a lifeboat.  They set their own hopes and dreams aside.

The other two tasks that need doing here are left for tomorrow and Thursday.  They involve quality attention to dear friends.  So here is a key aspect of the changes that became apparent to me, as I drove home last night:  I am leaving isolation behind.  That’s the scary part, but it’s also the satisfying element.  When I focus on a person, or a task, I am all in.  It may not suit the people who are on the sidelines, and have to wait until a later time for me to attend to THEIR needs, but that attention is only deferred, not cast aside.

I am also getting better at deferring, not casting aside, my own needs for rest and rejuventation.  So, I got up at 10, not 6 or 7.  Early rising will return tomorrow.

The Road to 65, Mile 66: Totems

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February 2, 2015, Prescott- From the time I was small, there has been something about bears that has set in my heart, far beyond the Teddy Bear connection that has led some to dismiss that fascination.  I have learned that my Penobscot ancestors regarded the bear as a sacred being, as many Indigenous Americans do.  So, it was a particular honour when a longtime friend gave me an eagle feather, my name slightly misspelled, and with four bears lovingly placed along the bottom edge.

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It sits now, at the edge of a heart, created by my wife, from mesquite sticks around 2002.  That was a symbol of all we had, and its ruggedness foreshadowed what we were to endure.  The eagle and the bears are symbols of keenness and strength, two qualities which I’ve known, erratically, most of my life.  During all her suffering, though, I could not let go of either quality.

Now, I’m coming into another phase of my life, its specifics still unclear, but in which sharpness of mind and strength of character will need to flow, uninterrupted.  It will entail a lot of flexibility, energy-wise and time-wise, and could very well include going back to work full time, though that is a matter now in the hands of others.  The totems will impart a certain energy to the process.  Stay tuned.

The Road to 65, Mile 63: Special Touch

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January 30, 2015-  Today was spent learning how to apply a variety of  essential oils to another person’s body, in a therapeutic and respectful manner.  Couples can have lots of fun with this, as well.  For me, though, it was a focused and elegant exercise.  The purpose of this is to address the sacrocranial column and the feet, with 5-8 oils.  Each of these oils has a specific property and affects the body in a particular way.  Lavender, which starts the process, relaxes the body. Peppermint, which ends it, brings the body back to a state of alertness.  The whole process, for each of us, took 40 minutes.

I am now certified to OFFER this treatment to people, but I will not CHARGE for it, at least not for the time being. I may not teach others how, without a rigourous training process. The most important thing is that, once one learns the process, it is a good idea to let people know that it works.  When it was done on me, this morning, I felt wondrously relaxed and spiritually nourished.  Oh, and the Thai curried chicken added to those feelings.

If you have the opportunity to learn this process, take it.

The Road to 65, Mile 60: A Father and His Daughters

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January 27, 2015, Prescott- Pop would have been 91 today.  That he made it to 90 years, 4 months and 10 days, before returning to the Spirit Realm, last year, was the prime force of his indomitable will.  He showed his Nazi captors, various other bullies throughout his life, and all of us who came to be his trusted circle of family and friends just how adversity ought to be handled.

The Universe gave that man’s man three girls to raise.  He gave that task his all, as any father worthy of the name, would have.  All three, two of whom are twins, were unique individuals, and Pop played to their strengths, challenged their weaknesses and gave them a secure framework for growing into women of achievement.  His eldest, my late wife, Penny, achieved three Master’s Degrees, a thirty-year career as a classroom teacher and showed her own triumph in dealing with a lifelong illness, which only brought her down after she had made her mark and touched the lives of hundreds of young people, across the globe.  Her sisters have worked hard and proven themselves indispensable in their respective businesses- which have run the gamut from telecommunications to equestrian training.

Horses were, in fact, central to the Fellman family’s life.  Riding, both English and Western, was a family trademark, and was one of the endeavours that brought Norm back from his end-of-war near-death status.  That, and the equally indomitable will of his wife of 65 years, gave him the lease on life that made his influence on so many of us, such a force of nature.  He was a pilot and a motorcyclist, which the ladies respectfully declined to take up for themselves.  Horses, dogs and cats, though, remain essential- and Pop was never without at least one of the three within calling distance.  He imparted that love of animals to his daughters, and none of their houses have been without pets.

Men are indispensable to their girls.  Both parents are indispensable to all of their children.  I never had the honour of raising a daughter, but as a proud parent of a an American sailor, I would be fully engaged in the lives of any grandchildren he may sire, in the future.  Norman David Fellman set that mold, both as a father and grandfather.  His pride in each of his girls was infectious, in the best of ways.  The mold will not be broken.