Category Archives: Personal goals

September Musings

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September 1, 2014, Prescott-  This is one of two breaks from my travel-oriented posts, which I will post today.  I will also post two travel-oriented posts, so there is a balance.

Today, being Labor Day in the U.S., I found there was much going on down in Courthouse Square, mainly in the form of vendors selling food, music and art.  I picked up a pair of moccasins, at a bargain price, which would have made my late friend, Mike, very proud.  I also had salad and pizza at Bill’s, one of six excellent pizzerias within walking distance of my home.

As always happens on the first of the month, I thought out what was ahead, in September.  My mother, and two siblings, have birthdays this month, and the 30th would have been Penny’s 60th birthday.  I have a Red Cross walk, in Tempe, this coming weekend.  There are anniversaries (passages of YEARS, not MONTHS or WEEKS) coming on the 13th, followed by Empty Bowls on the 14th.  A business convention will find me in Salt Lake City on Sept. 18-20th, with a day’s drive on either end.   The following weekend is- unbooked.

Here in the north, September brings the autumnal equinox, a symbol of harvest, of fruition.  Down Under, there is the vernal equinox, a symbol of beginnings, of new life.  I tend to begin to take stock of things in September, and even more so in November/ December, the time of both my personal new year, and of the Gregorian end of year.  A year ago, I was re-learning what love was and was not.  Now, I am under no illusions and live behind no veils.  The love of my life is still very present with me, spiritually.  It is not necessary for me to seek anyone else.  That’s a good thing, because I am, at 63, no one else’s idea of a bargain.

Next month, I will be meeting my son and his ship, in a transitory port, and sailing with them to their home port. This will be my longest time in a sailing vessel, but my spatial needs have always been minimal, so it’ll go well.  September and its little sister, October, always seem to bring surprises with them, so maybe a whale or two will show up alongside the bow of the ship.

Reflection Time

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 August 16, 2014, Prescott- I will continue with my posts on Europe tomorrow.  They are sparsely read, anyway, so this is a good time to switch gears.

As always happens when there are events that hit close to home, I’ve done a lot of reflecting this week.  Tonight, I watched a film about the human brain.  That’s all I’ll say about the film, for now.  I have also done a lot of thinking about which direction my life should take.  That’s still up in the air.  These things are clear:

Prescott, and my current residence, are good places, and will suffice for now.  I have a lease that’s good until April, and my term as American Legion Post Chaplain runs until June.

Work has dried up, with the public schools, but I give it until December, to see which way the wind is blowing.  Small minds tend to call the shots, in many places, oddly enough, especially when it comes to forgiving small slights.

I have two commitments out of state, this Fall:  A business convention in Salt Lake City, in September and meeting my son in Honolulu, and possibly following him back to San Diego, in October.  Once those are finished, I will look to the area’s charter schools, for a fresh start with substituting or helping out in a classroom.

The other night, I had a vision of what I might do next.  With the world the way it is, I’m not going to get too specific, but it involves a slogan, for which I could get a trademark.  I could use this to do some good, and follow my heart.

These things have been running through my mind, the past couple of days.  I have a lot of good friends, of all ages and both genders, and I know the true ones will be on my side.  I’m not concerned about a relationship.  At my age, and income level, it is secondary, anyway.  I want, most of all, though, to do more good, on  a wider level, than attending meetings and being on someone’s “IGNORE” list.  It’ll get done, because I was not left here to stagnate.

Thanks for reading this.

An Eastward Homage, Day 11: Morning in Rouen, Afternoon at Utah Beach

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

D-Day was the beginning of a hard deliverance for the French people.  We, the Allies, landed on the beaches of northern Normandy, on June 6, 1944.  So, June 6, 2014, some 32 years after Penny and I were married, and 70 years after the combined weight of the U.S., Canadian, Free French, British and Anzac forces were first brought to bear on the German/Vichy French Army, was a very big deal.

I had no  concrete plan to join in the observance, other than to get on a train from Rouen to Caen, thence to Bayeux, then to St. Mere Eglise, or as close as I could to Utah Beach, or Omaha Beach.  I brought money to kick in for a taxi, in any case.

Before hopping the train to Caen, I sauntered around Rouen’s Palais de Justice for a few morning stretches.  By ANY stretch, this thing is huge.

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It is still used for legal matters, in the Department de Seine-Maritime.  Having looked at my watch, though, I knew it was train time.

Along the way to Caen, we passed the lovely little town of Lisieux.  The river, of course, is the Seine.

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I met a Seattle-based couple who are researching for a book the wife is writing on the experiences of living World War II veterans.  They were headed to Omaha Beach.  I had decided to go to Utah Beach, as that would give me the best chance to get to St. Mere Eglise, afterward.

We arrived in Caen, and found this scene.

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The French Army was on full alert, as so many dignitaries were out and about, for the commemoration. We were not bothered at all, and got on a train that would get us to Bayeux.  A young lady named Anne, an American, met us on board the train.  Once she heard I was headed for Utah Beach, she became my friend for the day, and we got along most agreeably.  She gave me a few pointers on photography, so my shots ended up clearer than they had been earlier.  She turned out to be  embedded in a military unit, elsewhere in Europe.

This is near the train station at Bayeux, where we got off.  Bayeux is also famous for the tapestry that shows William the Conqueror, but today was not to be a day for examining that great work of art.

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Anne and I split a taxi fare to Utah Beach.  Here are some things we saw, en route.  Below, is Carentan.

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Next, being blocked from going to St. Mere Eglise, we went to St. Marie de Mont.  Here a few shots of that nice little town, before we arrived at Utah Beach.  I will show you other shots that I took here, on our return trip to Carentan, after posting the Utah Beach photos.

First, though, here is the approach to St. Marie de Mont, from the south.

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Next, is the center of town.

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Finally, the 101st Airborne, in loose parade mode.

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We got to Utah Beach, in plenty of time. This is just west of the Utah Beach Visitors Center.

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The tide was, of course, out, so we had a good scene for the memorial activity.

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I used the occasion to honour a Prescott resident who was a commander in the U. S. Army, on that fateful day.  He is still very much alive, and I’m told he was delighted to see this photograph.

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The re-enactors were getting set, as we walked about the beach.SAM_9715

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We also climbed the dunes, to see what the Allies were up against.

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I ended up in a few scenes. This is the second time in my life that I’ve been this close to a tank.  The first time was in Basic Training, in 1969.

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All colours were flying, at one place or another.SAM_9699

Here is a reminder that “Freedom isn’t free.”

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This was a German bunker, which the Allies had to approach, and overcome.

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Here are some reminders of the resilience of sand dunes.

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Anne was watching the gathered force.

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I got in the middle of it all, just one more time.

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Then, we headed up for lunch, to call a taxi to Carentan, and to thank the motorcyclists of Europe, for all they do to keep the memory alive.

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After twenty minutes or so, a taxi came to take us to Carentan, and our train back to the east of Normandy.  Here a couple of scenes from St. Marie de Mont, on the return trip. Note that the tour bus ahead of us is from Czech Republic.  They were among the first to suffer Hitler’s rage.

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Above is one of the ways the French remind us that this was no invented story, but a true, worldwide horror.  No amount of revisonism or faded memory can change what actually happened.

NEXT:  Rouen’s Vieux Marche, and Jeanne d’Arc’s legacy

An Eastward Homage, Day 10: Paris in the Rear View Mirror

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

June 5, 2014- I left my luggage downstairs at the Hotel Monte Carlo, so the ladies could get about their business.  There are two types of chambermaids in Europe:  Those who blaze through the rooms like the White Tornado of 1960’s American television, having everyone’s room clean by check-out time; and those who pick and choose which rooms on which to focus, maybe getting them all done by quitting time, or not.  With one exception, I had the first kind working on my rooms.  The Monte Carlo was definitely of the first order. There are also two types of desk clerks at these same hotels.  The first kind are semi-formal, but professional, glad but not overjoyed at your arrival and helpful with all reasonable requests.  The other are dour, have to work hard at even letting guests in the door and less than pleased at one’s approach to the counter.  The man who checked me in was of the second type, and never quite forgave me for having removed his door block, in my initial attempts to get in.  It took the Senegalese woman in the real estate office around the corner, calling and asking just what kind of hotel locks the door on their guests at 5 PM on a Sunday evening, to guarantee my entrance. That was about my only encounter with the French arrogance of legend.

The vast majority of people I met, in this land of my paternal ancestors, were more than gracious and very pleasant.  France is a very busy place these days.  There was a strike by SNCF workers, the entire time I was in the northwest of the country.  I was pretty much inured to coming to Paris, each time I traveled from one provincial city to another.  Despite that, though, people were focused and seemed to be working hard at whatever task was in front of them.

I spent the morning of this final day of my first extended visit to Paris, visiting a place that may well be one of the most important offices in the City of Light, in years to come:  The National Centre of the Baha’is of France, several blocks east-northeast of L’Arc de Triomphe.  I say this out of personal conviction, but anyone who is interested is more than welcome to investigate the Teachings of Baha’u’llah for themselves.  The unity of the human race, and independent investigation of all truth, are cornerstones of what we believe, and of what we do. Here are scenes of the immediate neighbourhood, the interior and the garden of the National Centre of the Baha’is of France.  The buildings below are not the Baha’i Centre.  The actual location is just to the right of the Red Cross, on Rue Pergolese.

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Once inside and properly introduced to staff, a prayer room is available.

The staircase leads to offices on the second floor.

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As with all important buildings in France, there is a garden in back. SAM_9580   SAM_9583

I spent about thirty-five minutes speaking with the three staff members who were present, enjoyed a cafe au lait, bought a prayer book in French, and bid them a fond “A dieu”. After retrieving my luggage, and thanking the gracious daytime desk clerk, for his steadfast help over the four days, I headed to Gare St. Lazare, for the journey to Rouen, from whence some of my paternal ancestors set out for L’Amerique du Nord, one day in 1650. So, this is a good point to look back on Paris.  I first made a brief stop here, with Penny, in 1982.  We were en route to Israel, and our Baha’i pilgrimage, so sightseeing was not on the agenda.  It was a mere transit stop.  This time, though, was planned almost to the hour, and I certainly took in a lot:  Montmartre (though not Le Moulin Rouge), Tuileries, Le Musee de Louvre, Versailles, Champs-Elysees, Le Tour Eiffel, Trocadero and L’Arc de Triomphe.  I enjoyed Petits Dejeuners aux pain, viande et fromage, a four course dinner at a Brasserie, another four course dinner at a Turkish restaurant, and a few kebab sandwiches here and there.  One rainy day, I wore my poncho. On the other rainy day, I pretty much stayed indoors or underground.

I learned the difference between eating au place and taking my meal emportee. (It was usually 5 euros).  I learned that one should never, ever write on a France Pass rail voucher, before it has been cleared by the proper official.  I learned that, if the first three trains on the Metro are overcrowded, the fourth will afford sufficient space for a man and his household.  I learned that Paris is a supremely lovable place. Many thanks then, to the young lady at the Montmartre Tourist office, the clerk at Metro Station Le Peletier, the desk clerk at Hotel Victoria and the aforementioned real estate agent, for getting me to Hotel Monte Carlo, albeit in piecemeal fashion; to the manager of Hotel Monte Carlo,  his day clerk and the chambermaid, for arranging a most pleasant stay; to our tour guide at the Louvre and to the staff at Versailles, for their most informative explanations of these fabulous cultural repositories; to the restaurateurs, of establishments great and small, for unfailingly delicious fare, served pleasantly and to my Baha’i friends, for helping me add a spiritual dimension to my Paris visit and for connecting me with the friends in Rouen and Strasbourg. I leave you with this view of the French countryside near Vernon, west of Paris.

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NEXT:  An Evening in Rouen

An Eastward Homage, Day 3: The Sum Total

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

I had no trouble getting up the morning of May 29, having briefly risen at 3 AM, said a prayer in honour of Baha’ullah’s passing, 122 years ago today.  I thought later that morning of my youngest brother, Brian, who would have turned 50 today, had he not suffered for 22 years and died after 29 of them.

Today on the ground, however, was about the family Norm Fellman left behind, especially his wife, my mother-in-law.  The family is at their south Jersey home, in a place called Vineland.  I had a heart-wrenching visit with my MIL, and will not go into detail as to all she, or her daughter, shared.  .

What were nice were two things:  A walk around their immediate neighbourhood, and the London Broil dinner we had, fresh off the grill.  Wynne and David have worked hard at making the home nice for her devoted mother.  Here are some scenes of home and neighbourhood.  The sum total of this whole trip is the devotion of family.  I have my part to share in this.  It is to visit those sites which Norm and his comrades-in-arms sanctified with their sacrifices, whether by dying or by suffering both internal and external wounds.

For most of us, wounds are hard to conceal.  The pain of loss is felt by all, including the family’s last surviving dog. The window box, though, is a spirit lifter, which Wynne has prepared in her father’s memory.

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We did get a change of scene, by walking about the immediate neighbourhood, which is filled with both architectural and botanical gems.  The first we saw was a red maple, spread fully with stunning foliage, long before Fall.

Here’s a little rabbit, just before Willow charged at it.

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The great forests have nothing on Vineland.

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One of Vineland’s most stately Georgian era homes is now an attorney’s office.  Note the special feature in the chimney.

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Back at the house, it struck me how it is similar, in some respects, to the old house at Longmeadow Farm.  Mom remembers the farm as their strongest dream, and greatest success, as a couple. Joseph Campbell advises us to “Follow your bliss.”  This, the Fellmans did, and in spades.  Now, all of us are protected by a cadre of angels.

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An Eastward Homage, Day 1: A More Timely Departure

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

This morning began as most days do:  Prayers, errands and reading the paper, over coffee.  The usual stuff took on more urgent tones, around 9:30, and there were bills paid for June and July, brief visits to a couple of friends and last-minute mailings of various items.

I made the walk to Hassayampa Inn, and a rendezvous with the airport shuttle, in plenty of time this afternoon.  This gave me an excuse to photograph the Hassaymapa’s lovely east courtyard garden.

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The shuttle ride was smooth and swift, and provided a chance to hear the insights of a local pastor/psychologist.  Like me, he is urgently concerned with the mental health and well-being of  the surviving Prescott Hotshot, and of the families of the men who were killed, nearly a year ago.

Sky Harbor Airport was crowded and bustling, at 6 PM.  I passed through security without fanfare, though a book I had just finished, “Touch the Top of the World”, by Erik Weihenmayer, got lost in an unguarded moment.  Whoever has it now is in for a treat.  Erik, a blind man, has successfully climbed peaks as disparate as Everest, Mt. McKinley, Aconcagua, El Capitan and Kilimanjaro, with various teams.   His story should prove inspiring to anyone, regardless of one’s personal challenges.

My new read is “Bunker Hill”, by Nathaniel Philbrick.  This will keep me enthralled, during several flights in the days ahead.  Sky Harbor at night is a different place.  As happens elsewhere after hours. those waiting for night flights gather as a sociable family, of sorts.  The insular crowds of the daylight hours have gone on, and the Redeye Crowd are pumped for their flights into the morning sunlight, or California midnight, as the case may be.

I whiled the waiting period away at Olive and Ivy Marketplace, a nice little deli and pizzeria.

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Well, kids, it’s time to put this computer away, and mosey on down to the gate.  The Queen City, Charlotte, NC, is next on the itinerary, then on to Newark, and a day or two in the familiar climes of the Garden State.

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This Memorial Weekend

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Memorial Day this year has a special poignancy for me, with the departure of my father-in-law on May 7.  We have traded Father’s Day, my in-laws’ wedding anniversary and his birthday for this special day of remembrance.  I am grateful for every year he was within earshot, a phone call away or a shoulder to lean on- though never to cry on.  Now, he gets to see us from a different realm, a more distinct vantage point.

Memorial Day has somewhat gone the way of other “Holidays” in America.  We are bombarded with offers we “can’t refuse”, many are expected to work through the weekend and others just seek a chance to unwind, in their usual manner.  There is nothing wrong with relaxation.  We all need it.

It has been gratifying, though, that in communities both large and small, people seem to be returning to things that matter most during this weekend of reflection.  Yesterday, I went to the Phoenix area a day earlier than I had planned.  The young grandson of a long-time friend had died, in a tragic accident, the weekend before, and yesterday was his memorial service.  Such a vibrant, vital child was now with the Holy People and several hundred people came from all over Metro Phoenix, and beyond, to show their love.

The Christian pastor said it well- We know not why such an early death happens to a young child, but as a gardener chooses a variety of flowers for his bouquet, so does the Heavenly Father choose those of different ages as His angels.  We prayed, hugged one another, cried and laughed at remembrance of this beautiful child’s antics.  In the end, after a satisfying meal, nearly a hundred balloons were released into the air, in his honour.    The loss of a child is always jarring, horrifying, yet the send-off for a soul can be magnificent, and this was so.

I drove off, after the service, and paid private respects at Penny’s gravesite, and at nearby tombs of two other Baha’is:  Kenneth Jeffers, and the little boy’s great-grandfather, Bill Karnes.  Three undaunted teachers of our Faith, laid to rest in a triangle within several hundred yards of one another, and now they are circling around us all, in the spiritual realm.  The Messengers of God promise us this and it seems so, every day as I arise and every night as I get ready for sleep.

Today, I focused more on service close to home, pulling a dead tree branch back from its overhang over our north wall, where it jutted into our neighbour’s parking lot.  So, one less eyesore and safety hazard is in the way of honest people trying to earn a living. I made some progress on clearing brush and weeds along the wall and in front of the wooden sheds.  More needs to be done tomorrow afternoon, once Memorial Day itself has been observed at our Citizens’ Cemetery and in front of the VA Hospital, and I have visited some hospitalized patients there.

Time is now getting short, before I head off to what amounts to a memorial month- World War anniversaries in France and Belgium, a visit to my paternal ancestral city of Rouen, France and walkabouts in cities large and small in Germany and Luxembourg, as well as the aforementioned countries.  Part of my mind and heart will be watching what goes on here in Arizona, as the fire season continues to play out, in Flagstaff, Sedona and other towns.  My heart goes out to those who lost loved ones in Isla Vista, near Santa Barbara and to those dealing with extended flood emergencies in the Danube Basin.  I will have more to say about the UC shootings tomorrow.  Be safe, my friends and readers.

Time, Times and Half A Time

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

Rev 12:14″ And to the woman were given two wings of a great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent.”

It has been just shy of a year, since one of the most horrific events to befall my adopted town took place on a remote ridge:  The Yarnell Hill Fire, which claimed the lives of 19 Wildland Firefighters.  Every family left behind has suffered unimaginable grief.  A widow, just shy of 30 years of age, has the task of raising four children, albeit with a strong, emotionally-supportive extended family and an upstanding Faith Community.  For the past seven months, she, and they, have dealt with a bureaucracy and its supporters, whose mantra has been “Life happens.  Make do with what you have.”

Fine words for those who may have suffered through the Depression, by taking in laundry, picking weeds or digging ditches, but the world has changed a tad.  Much water has gone under many bridges.  The issue in this case, though, is that while all the crew members worked equally as hard as the next, only some, by the interpreted letter of the law, were well-tended by the system.  The rest were to find other means of support.

After 1 1/2 days of hearings, the regulatory authority in this case determined, by majority vote, that the young widow and her children were indeed entitled to full benefits, under the appropriate system.  Our system may be slow, may often need careful, patient action to correct its mistakes, but today is proof that it works.  Today is proof that, even in our times of instant gratification-or-nothing, not giving up is essential.

On a far different note, I came home and read a  lengthy rejoinder to a comment I had made, relative to the Islamic Faith.  The author cites chapter and verse to show that Islam is inherently evil, and that anything said to the contrary is naive and “PC”.  I will obviously have to do a lot of research before responding to the innuendo, just as the legal team which prevailed in this week’s hearing had to do an enormous amount of work, in righting  a serious wrong.

Saint John the Divine, in the passage above, alludes to a desperate soul getting assistance from unlikely sources, and in a most unexpected way.  Those with a stake in an established system will naturally do all they can to guard that system- be it a governmental structure, or a code of beliefs. We must also bear in mind that many a misguided set of beliefs or codes of regulations themselves are rooted in correcting both real and perceived injustice. The needs of the  weak, the suffering, and the pure in heart, however, have a far more powerful set of allies to meet them.  It just takes longer to address them fully.

I also note that another young family, on the other side of the country, received word that THEIR anxiety and difficulties will now also be relieved- on a long-term basis.  Time, and time again, we seek relief.  Never give up!

Moving Seamlessly

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

The young firefighter described his, and his unit’s, work, over the course of a year, as moving seamlessly from one set of tasks to another.  This is what I admire most about so many of those who have taken on difficult, dangerous and often thankless, unappreciated tasks as their life’s work.  The unit in question works under an administration which seems to neither understand nor care much for those under its charge.  That administration is getting a rather long overdue education today and tomorrow.

I have said in the past that, even as I have good friends in every living generation, I am finding I relate best to Millennials.  The sense of commitment to a better world is just below the surface among all ages, yet nowhere is the energy and drive to truly create a functioning and equitable global society stronger than it is among teens and twenty-somethings.  Gen Z (those fourteen and under) seems just as promising, so this could be a confirmation that the world, towards which so many have striven,  is on its way, even as so much that is rotten needs to be cleared out.

We may not move forward with absolute seamlessness, and there are plenty of non-angelic types among the younger generation, but as I move about the city of Prescott, around Arizona or across the country and to other parts of the world, I sense there is a purposeful mien among the youth.  It goes beyond idealism, which, if left to stand alone, becomes cynicism and gives way to creature comforts, drug abuse and paranoia. Maybe, with the current younger generations, the lack of time-honoured opportunities which many of us enjoyed as youth, has forced self-reliance, group action and innovation to the fore early on in their lives.  Certainly, technology has helped greatly, in that regard.

I have come under a lot of fire from many of my fellow Boomers and from several Gen-X’ers recently, for my past few posts.  I can’t share their cynicism, though, and while contemplating the rest of my life, I can only see good things for the human race, in the aggregate.  Those of my contemporaries who agree with my assessment have been equally vocal, so maybe I, too, am moving seamlessly from one day, and one set of tasks, to the next.

Choices

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

I listened to Tape 10 of the series, “The Eleven Forgotten Laws”, last night.  It was entitled “The Law of Sacrifice”.  The premise is simple:  To get one thing, one must give up another.  I find the  basis for this applies in just about all aspects of life.  Let’s look at three examples.

There is a restaurant menu- Seven items appeal, but of course today, for this meal, only one may be chosen.  Of course, the only thing that is directly “sacrificed” is the ability to eat the other six items at this sitting, unless the restaurant is buffet-style.  Some may moan that their money is being sacrificed, but compensation is not the same thing as giving up something.  The restaurant, generally speaking, deserves to be paid for its fare and service.

When one gets married, it is only fair to the spouse that romances with others are no longer a part of your life.  Of course, there are those in Swinging or Open Marriage relationships, but they’re like the buffets- not the usual situation.  One’s spouse, and you, are deserving of respect and fidelity.

The last reflects my life, at present.  When one is drawn to travel, it could be for any number of reasons.  The same is true of those who elect to stay at home.  There are many events going on, in the place(s) you choose to visit.  There may well be many events going on, simultaneously, in the place you call home.

My point is, be comfortable with the choices that get made.  They are yours- and as such, will draw both praise and criticism.  No one knows what’s best for you better than you do.  While life goes one, fully, as it should, in your absence, it works best when the response to “We’ll miss you!” is “Thank you, and I look forward to your stories and photos of all that will have happened here, while I was gone.”

Bob Proctor and Mary Morrissey encourage us to be glad that we have free choices, which are indicative of an abundant Universe.