Northwest by North, and Back: Fond Remembrances

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I am now happily back in my own house-sitting labour of love.  I won’t have any photos to show on this one- redundancy is not my thing.  Nonetheless, I look back and think fondly of the places I saw:  Hoover Dam;Lake Mead;  The Alien Store;Lake Merritt; San Francisco; Jack London Square; Tomales Bay; Muir Woods; the Coastal Redwoods; the Lost Coast; Point Coquille; Astoria Column; the Columbia at St. Helens and at The Dalles; Portland; Ocean Beach, WA; Lake Quinault; Kalaloch; Forks; Lake Ozette; Neah Bay and Cape Flattery; Port Angeles; Sequim and Jamestown; Seattle; Wenatchee and Ohme Gardens (even with the fires); Yakama Nation; Goldendale and Maryhill; Deschutes River, at Maupin, OR; Crooked River Gorge, at Culver, OR; Smith Rock; Downtown Bend; Rogue River Gorge, at Union Creek; Ashland, OR; Mount Shasta; McCloud, CA; Lake Britton; Lassen Volcanic National Park; Feather River and Spanish Creek Gorges; Reno; Winnemucca; Elko and the Ruby Mountains; Bonneville Salt Flat; Salt Lake City; Price Canyon; Fruita, CO; Glenwood Springs; Northglenn; Colorado Springs; Wolf Creek Pass; Mesa Verde; Ute Mountain Chimney Rock; Four Corners Butte; and my beloved Peaks, welcoming me home.

More important, though, are the people: The clerk at the Alien Store; the clerk and her little daughter, at Atomic Inn, Beatty;  Tom, Michele and their kids, in Reno, my hosts on two occasions; the California Baha’i Regional Council, for such a masterful Commemorative Weekend; Marta, Christian and the team at San Francisco Baha’i Center, making the Bay Area feel like home; Dona and Ian, at Abalone Inn, Point Reyes; the put-upon staff at Nick’s Cove (because of the bees); the ranger at Standish-Hickey Recreation Area; the staff at Harbor Inn, Brookings; the waitresses at Matty’s (even if you didn’t like my politics); the waitresses and owner at Bonnie’s Grill, Port Orford;  the clerk at Shooting Star Motel, Bandon; the waitress at High Tide Cafe, Charleston, OR; the staff at Sea Lion Caves; the owner of Budget Lodge, Portland; Khai  and Jim, and the waitstaffs at Tina’s Corner and at Pastini’s, all of whom made my Portland visit special;   the guys at Hawaiian Islands Cafe, St. Helens, OR; the gentle old man and his boss at Thunderbird Motel, Aberdeen, WA; the staff at Lake Quinault Cafe; the waitress at Kalaloch Lodge; the staff at In Place and the kids who found my camera, in Forks, WA; the waitress at Warmhouse, Neah Bay; the staff at Feiro Marine Life Center, Port Angeles, WA; Ted Lew and his mother, in Seattle, for being such gracious hosts for two days; the various vendors of Pike Place, especially the waitress at Athenian Seafood; Mr. Vinny, of Vital T-Leaf, for his kind seminar on tea preparation; the people of Seattle Chinatown; Robert and Carla Wilson, Mitra McCauley and her husband, Dan, and Caroline and Robert Kirkpatrick, of East Wenatchee, for bringing me to your community and letting me be a part of summoning the power of the Holy Spirit, in Wenatchee’s time of need; the staff at Mai Lee Thai, East Wenatchee;  the staff at Ohme Gardens; the waitress at The Igloo, Wenatchee; Jackie and her husband, at Ponderosa Motel, Goldendale; the waitress at Top Hat, Goldendale; the couple at Bake My Day, Goldendale; the street coffee vendor in The Dalles; the staff at KOA, Culver, OR; the entire crew at Sidelines Grill, Bend; the reptile curator at Smith Rock; the staff at Union Creek Resort and Beckie’s Restaurant; Jody Bourne Weah, my host in Ashland, OR; the waitress at Greenleaf Restaurant, Ashland; the crew at Fireside Village, Hat Creek, CA; the NPS staff and volunteers at Lassen Volcanic National Park; the waitress at Joe Bob’s, Reno; Deborah and the crew at Flying Pig Barbecue, Winnemucca; the clerk at Economy Inn, Elko; the couple at McAdoo’s, Elko; Carol Curtis, my host in Salt Lake City; the Baha’is of Utah and Robert Stockman, for a marvelous Commemorative in Salt Lake City; the Spiritual Assembly of the Baha’is of Colorado Springs, for hosting such an intimate and unforgettable Commemorative Weekend at Glenwood Springs; the proprietors of Rodeway Inn, Glenwood Springs, the staff of Vic’s Route 6 Grill, and the waitress at Zheng Asian Bistro, for making my last weekend on the road so restful and nutritious; my dear sister and brother in Northglenn, Mindy and David Kosak, for hosting me once more; the faculty and students at the U.S. Air Force Academy, for putting our nation first; the volunteers at Garden of the Gods, for sharing such an exquisite place with humanity; the waitress at La Baguette, for reviving me with splendid pastry and tea; the waitress at Del’s Diner, Fort Garland; the gents at Wolf Creek Lodge; Jackie and the crew at Junction Restaurant, Pagosa Springs and, by no means least, the team at Macy’s European Coffee House- always ready with a hearty bowl of soup, vegetarian sandwich and epicurean beverage.

Thanks also to those of you who have borne with me for this past month.  It has made me closer to my Lord, to Abdu’l-Baha, to my many friends and to my guardian angel and soul mate.

The Flip-Flop, Days 10 & 11: Glenwood Springs and Reflections on Baha’i Events Past

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The gathering at Glenwood Springs Community Center, yesterday and this morning, was the most emotionally intense of the three Commemorative events I’ve attended, marking Abdu’l-Baha’s visit to North America in 1912.  The events in San Francisco and in Salt Lake City were exquisite, spiritually uplifting events, as was this one.  They were brief, where this weekend’s event was spread out, time-wise.

San Francisco was the largest Baha’i event I’ve ever attended.  That I had a great time there tells me I am making strides in socializing, even where I am a shrimp in the ocean.  There were over 2,000 people, but, probably because I have friends in the Bay Area already and because we had the “ice-breaker” of a walk around Lake Merritt in Oakland, the day before, I felt more at home than I did at my last huge gathering in 1985. (I don’t count the Grand Canyon Baha’i Conferences, in Phoenix, because I always feel comfortable at “home” events.)

Salt Lake City was a small gathering, but I also enjoyed it greatly.  This, too, is progress on the “me” front, because I did something spontaneous.

This weekend, though, was a riveting amalgam of high-level scholarship, reunion with long-lost friends and the fading, but still inspiring colours of a Colorado High Country autumn.  The intimacy with which I was able to connect with Abdu’l-Baha and His life brought tears of joy to my eyes, which is not something for which I’m noted.

Photo time:

Here is the venue, Glenwood Springs Community Center.

The mountain backdrop is showing the rust-colours of iron-rich soil.

Session in Glenwood Springs Commemoration of Abdu’l-Baha’s Visit, in 1912- on Sept. 29, 2012.  Mrs. Bushra Bruss presented on the topic of Abdu’l-Baha’s sojourn in Egypt, in 1910-11.

I drove to Glenwood Springs from Salt Lake City, in tandem with these two ladies.  Carol is a long-time friend of Penny’s and mine.  Jill is her friend from Washington State.

This morning’s presentations featured period-piece drama and a scholarly talk, both continued from yesterday’s session.

The two ladies above are playing the roles of two fin-de-siecle women in California, who knew Abdu’l-Baha.  This dramatization is excerpted from a film in progress, entitled “The Luminous Journey”, by Tim and Anne Perry. Below, Kathryn Hogenson speaks on the topic of  Phoebe Hearst and the Baha’i Faith, which she has thoroughly researched and on which she has written a fascinating, well-ordered book, entitled  “Lighting the Western Skies”.

Today would have been Penny’s 58th birthday.  That, and the intensity of seeing so many old friends from our days on the Navajo Nation, heightened the emotional intensity of this weekend, for me.

I will always hold the encounters and experiences of this past month, very high among the journeys of my life- right up with our pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy Places in Israel and in London (1982), our teaching trips to Guyana and to South Dakota/Nebraska (1984) and our years in Korea (1986-92).  Spirituality will be much more a part of my work and my travels, going forward.

As I left Glenwood Springs, headed for the Denver suburb of Northglenn, for a visit with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law, the foliage in Glenwood Canyon was still bright, though it has peaked.

The Denver area will be my venue tomorrow, feeling like a home away from home.

Home Turf: A Visit to the Native American Baha’i Institute

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I rode “over the hump” last Friday, taking I-40 from Barstow, CA to Winslow, AZ.. I couldn’t see “the Corner”, but I did end up paying homage to rock n’ roll.  After being told a room advertised for $40 would cost me $60, I left America’s Best Value Inn, and went next door to Delta Motel.  Here, a more reasonable room took me to Graceland.  Elvis was everywhere on the walls.

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I went through a few brain burps the next day.  The worst was, once I got to the road that I always used to take to the Institute, I found myself battling a sand dune.  A local couple came by, pulled me out with their truck and a chain, got paid for their trouble ( Always offer cash to local people who help you out on a Native American reservation.  Even with casinos, not that many people are working.) and I was on my way to NABI in an hour’s time- by a newer and better route.

I arrived at NABI, at a good time.  An elder, whom we refer to as a Continental Counselor spoke, followed by Mr. Kahn, who, with his brother, organized a Council Fire, a spiritual gathering of two-four days, in their home community of Pine Springs, in 1962.  Thus, we were marking the 50th anniversary of this ground-breaking event in the history of the Baha’i Faith.

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Mr. Kahn is an elder in his own right now, but still has a keen mind and led the gathering later in the evening, in a traditional Navajo social dance, known as a Round Dance.  Couples danced clockwise, in a circle, following Mr. Kahn and his wife, who is a local teacher.

Below, a Mexican-American friend from California speaks to the group.

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Mr. Bathke, another long-time resident of the area, who is now co-adminstrator, with his wife, of the Native American Baha’i Institute, gave a brief talk on Saturday, as well, and would speak further on Sunday morning.

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The Institute has come a very long way, since some of us gathered here in 1981, and engaged in the process of putting up a rudimentary shade house and mainly slept under the stars, or in our tents.  There was one time I was shaving by with the aid of my car’s side view mirror.   A Navajo friend quipped, “What do you need a mirror for?  Don’t you know where your face is?”  Navajo humour has always given timely insight into the ways in which we have separated ourselves from nature.

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Above, is the Dining Hall at Native American Baha’i Institute.

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Ted Lew, a Chinese-American friend, remembers his visits to Navajo land over the years.

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Alfred Kahn, Sr. and his family sang a Baha’i prayer.

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The Baha’i Faith, in each country in which it is freely allowed to practice, is governed by a National Spiritual Assembly, which is elected every year by delegates to a National Convention, held in May.  The delegates, in turn, are elected by a gathering of Baha’is in each  electoral unit within the given country.  This election takes place every October.

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Above, a member of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Baha’is of the United States is shown giving a gift to the Kahn family.

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Jeff Jentz, a friend from many years ago, speaks of his experiences as a Baha’i on the Navajo Nation.

The Navajo believe, inherently, in the oneness of the human race.  That there are disputes among us is largely due to the abuses of political and social systems on which we’ve depended over the centuries.  More and more Native Americans, along with other ethnic and national groups, are coming to realize the need for people to unify, at the grassroots level, so as to avoid tyranny and oppression, and move forward to a truly global civilization, which honors the vast variety of cultural expressions.

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This is why I feel I went home last weekend.

Crossroads

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Before diving into my recent visit to San Juan Capistrano, I need to reflect a bit on my blessings at this stage of life.  A few days ago, I met a few people whom I will henceforth regard as dear friends. I left at least one of them with a sense of puzzlement, as to what sort of person I am, and for what I stand in life.  So, for her, and anyone else who is a bit uncertain, these are nine things that mean everything to me.

1.  No one can know the true nature of God.  I just know He is in all things, yet above all things.

2.  Every person has value, and that value is unique to that person.

3.  I had thirty beautiful years with the person who gave me the best of everything in her life.

4.  I have the honour of calling a fine young man “son”.

5.  I am blessed with so many loving family members and friends, I could not possibly dwell on the negative.

6.  Marriage is among the most sacred of bonds.  Unless that sacred nature is fully understood and respected by one and all, there can be no real bond between people.

7.  I am far from perfect.  Some people, right up through last night, have seen my flaws.  My flaws, though, do not define me.  My task is to transcend them.

8.  I love all people, and while I am, at present, “in love with” no one, I will always work towards the best interests that I perceive for each person in my life.

9.  I am on a journey of discovery. Sometimes that involves physical travel.  Other times, as at this moment, my discoveries may be done by reflection.

So, to all my dear family and friends, know that you are, each and all, among the greatest blessings God could ever bestow on me.  I think of my friend Andreas, in London; of Ruth and TD in Washington State;  of two dear young ladies, both named Chelsea, who are like daughters to me; of my spirit brother Ted, on his own road of discovery; of my brother Glenn, who just celebrated the 52nd anniversary of the start of his amazing life, and his dear wife and wonderful family; of my siblings Cheryl and Dave, and their beautiful families; of my mother, keeping a distant watch over me, after giving my upbringing the best anyone could ask; of my own beloved son, now serving our country and humanity; of my forever in-laws; of all my Baha’i family here in the Prescott area, in Phoenix, in Dinetah and the world over; of my online family, in Xanga, Facebook and WordPress and of those new friends I met this weekend- Mike B., Jeff, Ed W., Bijan, Amy H., Marta (and Peter, who I know was with us in spirit).

I can’t promise that I will be on top of the world, financially or in public esteem, but I can assure one and all that my life will never be for naught.

Looking Back, from Square One

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In this case, it was San Diego, June 6, 1982.  Our wedding photos were taken in the garden of the San Diego Baha’i Center, while the usual Sunday morning faith activities were conducted.  At 1 P.M., I was allowed in, to set up for the beginning of Penny’s and my life together.  At 2 P.M., my mother-in-law sang a wedding song, while Penny and her dad walked down the rose-petal strewn aisle.  She wore white and I, a black tuxedo.  That was about as traditional as it got.  My father read a selection from the Baha’i Writings and my mother, from the New Testament.   We exchanged the simple vow “We will all, verily, abide by the Will of God.”, and our rings.  The Secretary of the Spiritual Assembly of the Baha’is of San Diego certified our marriage, and we began the real business of growth into a unit.

After a Persian musician played a lovely piece on a santour, we welcomed our 50 or so guests into the reception hall, and all enjoyed a buffet meal.  Around 3:30, a couple of men walked in, looking for the regular Sunday afternoon meeting.  They received a warm welcome, a free meal and some explanation of Baha’i marriage.  Then, my siblings-in-law tied tin cans to the back of our car, we had some confetti thrown at us, and our parents shooed us along on our honeymoon.  I think I drove about 50 yards or so, then stopped and removed the trail of cans- to a chorus of groans.

This, my friends, remains true, 30 years later- and will be true for all eternity.

I visited the San Diego Baha’i Center last Wednesday, as part of a thirtieth anniversary.  It was closed, but I contented myself with meditating on the quotations such as the one above, which are mounted at the garden’s entrance.

The previous night, I went with Aram to Filippi’s Pizza Grotto, which was the first place I ever ate in San Diego, in March, 1979.  Now, as then, la cucina si bellissima!  The family has now established a chain, along the California coast- at least there are “branches” in South Beach, in Jacumba and in Napa Valley- probably elsewhere in the Golden State.  Anyway, Penny and I had a nice meal there in January, 1982, when we went whale watching.  I had to throw that in, now back to the narrative.

Penny had  yearning for beach camping, our first night, so we headed to South Carlsbad State Beach- in time to meet a crowd of beach regulars who were gathering grunion.  We were given about a dozen to put in our cooler, and we prepared them two days later, as Penny had to return to work for the last three days of school.

Beach camping offers a special form of camaraderie, and all get enthralled by sundown and sunup, alike. 

We spent our second night together at Julian Hotel.  The honeymoon suite is a cozy affair.  I lit a nice fire in the fireplace that night.  The Julian is still very much a presence downtown, and now has a Bed and Breakfast aspect, as well as the traditional overnight stay.

The last day before we left, we walked around town during the morning, enjoying lunch around noon at Julian Pie Company.

After one last long look at the mountain scenery, we left for Tuba City, AZ, and our first four years together in service to the Navajo and Hopi children.

Tuba, as those who knew us when will attest, was our laboratory for marital and personal growth.  Penny learned delayed gratification about some things and I learned that not every mistake I made was the end of life as I knew it.  I also learned that being a man did NOT mean fixing every problem that arose, but processing together, so we could get a better solution.  That last one took me until our son was born, to really figure out.

                                                              

Does the high desert look like a good place to grow together?  For us, it was. (NOTE:  These photos are file photos, from the Navajo Times.)

A late night phone call, answered by a tired yours truly and confirmed by my equally tired wife, led to first her getting a job at Cheju National University, in South Korea’s island southwest, in Fall, 1986.  I got my job there, after a fashion, in March, 1987.  Our son, Aram, began his life there, in July, 1988.  We stayed, in a struggling, but exquisite, semitropical environment, until March, 1992.  (Photos below are file photos, from Google Earth and the Korea Ministry of Tourism.  The last photo is a self-portrait by Imstress.)

Cheju has all the things that make Korea great, and beautiful:  Shoreline, mountain, ancient culture- and vibrant, beautiful people.  T

Volcanic beach on west side of Cheju.

Summit of Halla-san, the highest peak in South Korea.                                                                                                                                                                           

Hand-carved ceramic warriors at Mok-sook-wan.                                                                                                    

Imstress, with a Dol-harubang (“Stone Grandfather”).                    

Penny’s folks knew us well enough to realize that we might well have stayed in Korea until Aram’s maturity.  He is their only grandson, and thus the pleading and their emotional stress brought us back to Arizona.  We spent the next seven years in and around Jeddito, a small Navajo hamlet that provided a school for rural Navajos and Hopis, replacing an older school in nearby Keams Canyon, where Penny had taught in 1980-81.  Aram was friends with a fair number of Native children, but on terms dictated by their emotionally hurt, and sometimes angry, elders and older siblings. There is where he got a sense of the cost of Man’s inhumanity to Man.  There is where it was made clear why we need the unification of the human race.

(These photos are also file photos of the Navajo Times.)

  Sunday church service.      

A meadow near Jeddito.                          Pongsikvi (“Keams Canyon”)

As Aram grew into middle-school age and Penny started to show health problems, we moved closer to the metro area of Phoenix.  I served three years as a school principal, in three different locations.  In the end, Money-Politics was on the mound, and I struck out.  Penny and Aram learned Tae-kwon-do, she began a series of naturopathic treatments, primarily with a traditional Chinese acupuncturist and herbalist, who doggedly kept her alert and productive until 2010, when the neurological ravage known as Polyglucosan Body Disease began to get the upper hand and she had to be placed in a rehabilitation hospital.

From 2001- 2006, she was able to work a fair amount of wonder, with her students in the West Valley town of El Mirage.

I was pretty much on call, working as a substitute teacher in a couple of school districts, but mainly being ready in case Penny had an emergency.  When she was no longer able to work, she reverted to working on yet another Master’s Degree- this one in Educational Technology.  She never did get to put it to direct use, but it kept her on track for another four years- and she mentored younger women at Arizona State University- West Campus.  Here, I must thank Dr. Michael Desvigne and the staff of Trillium Specialty Hospital, for their gargantuan efforts at largely overcoming the ill effects of Penny’s four years in a wheelchair.

She was released from Trillium, largely healed of her pressure wounds, in November, 2010.  Other infections took root, though, and by February, 2011, she went to her last place of residence- Odyssey Hospice.  On March 5, 2011, her spirit contacted me at 6 A.M., saying it was time.  As Aram and I pulled into the Odyssey parking lot, a small gust of wind blew upwards from the ground, in a spiraling motion.  I found her physical frame, lifeless for about three minutes and still warm, waiting in her bed, for a dignified burial.  This we, her loved ones, did for her on March 9.  As she was the spouse of a veteran, her body went to its final rest in Arizona Memorial Cemetery.

We traveled alot together, as this 1984 photo of Penny in Guyana will attest.  So, it’s no wonder her spirit has set me on several journeys, last year and this.

We were a hard-working, struggling and sold little family.  In many ways, Penny beat her demons-especially the external ones.  She helped me greatly in confronting and beating mine- especially the internal ones.

I have been moving on, outwardly alone, but knowing she’s right alongside, 24/7.  I’ve made many friends since last Spring, and am glad for being able to give and receive friendships with people of both genders, all ages and a wide variety of backgrounds.  As I mentioned in my last post, if and when I meet another special person, it’ll seem, the way it did with Penny, to happen out of the blue.  There was no force or contrivance, either way, between us- it just was.  So, too, will it be next time.  I am not afraid of either being “just friends” with women, nor of meeting someone with whom I can share the rest of my life- but it has to be a mutual feeling.  I am, solidly, for the time being, on Square One.

 

My Easter, and My April

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I had a fine Easter breakfast  of Crepes Suzettes, with maple-flavoured bacon, hash browns and coffee, this morning at the American Legion Post.  There is always a meaningful conversation, or two, to be had with the Post brothers and sisters, even if some of it is about health issues.

Later today, I will pay last respects to an old friend.  Bruce was 89, had a form of dementia, and had lived a gargantuan life.  He made his own furniture, largely built his own home and had a way with both words, and money.  He made both of them count, for a lot.

Yesterday, I had a bit of Spring Fever.  I did take time to scout out the road, and the parking possibilities, for my upcoming hike up the last two major peaks in Yavapai County left for me to explore:  Mt. Union and Mt. Davis.  I will head up them on April 15, weather permitting.  When I got home, I napped, then took tea and worked on my education course.  I am pushing myself hard on this one, even though it is not all that much work.  I’ve been burned a few times, in my academic life, so each step, through each course, is a big victory over myself.

This coming week, I will present the video, “Education Under Fire”, in Chino Valley, a few miles north of here.  See http://educationunderfire.com/, or watch the video on You Tube, and consider signing the petition on the website.  Also, see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qsc-mglel-w, for a similar view of what the issues are.  Basically, what government has the right to deny anyone an education?

Besides the above-mentioned mountains, my feet will take me to trails with such unassuming names as “Homestead”, “Ranch” and “Watershed”, at different times this month. More Sedona visits and a jaunt to the Colorado River are also near at hand.  Work, and my course, are primary priorities, though.

Hope one and all had a Happy Easter, Chag Pesach Shameach or just a blessed Sunday.

My Hermit Sunday

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Okay, I cleared my cache and cookies, moments ago. So, let’s see if the Powers That Be let me publish this or not.

Last Sunday, March 11, I reflected on the earthquake and tsunami of a year ago, which ravaged Japan just six days after my wife winged her way to Heaven.  So much remains, as in many disasters.  My reaction to al this, and to the ongoing tornadoes, is to pursue volunteering with the Red Cross Disaster Response Team.  It will be a few more weeks of prep, then I will devote a lot of my time to this effort.

Sitting at home all day, on occasion, refreshes me and gets the organization of my mental files, as well as photos and computer files, more on an even keel.  Besides, I’m still fasting, until March 20, so my normal outdoorsy inclination is also mostly on hiatus.

(If this gets through the WP red tape, I will re-post the item I have tried twice to publish, without success.)

 

Dribs and Drabs

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I’m booked for next week, to be in southern California for a visit that was originally going to be in mid-March.  The change is for two reasons.  My son will be back in San Diego on Monday, so I will be rolling into town on Sunday night, and be at pierside when his ship docks.  As for the rest of the time, I will see what his schedule is first, and contact Xanga friends on Monday evening.

The second reason is, my brother from Georgia will be in Tucson in mid-March.  So, my visit there will be moved up from April, to the time originally set for SoCal.

All this brings me back, however obliquely, to what I have done for a living for the past thirty-five years, and why my current work situation is so sketchy.  Simply put, the American hiring ethic is based on fear.

Hiring managers and supervisors, in schools, human service agencies and even volunteer agencies like the American Red Cross, are operating on a fear mode- afraid of hiring, or accepting as a volunteer: Anyone who has not worked full-time in one place, for at least five years, regardless of the reason; anyone who has had a difference of opinion with a supervisor or interagency co-worker; anyone who has had, and worked through, financial difficulties.

Fear rules, and achievement is blown off, overlooked, discounted- unless it has bee.n sustained, in one place, for five years or more.  The President is concerned about the long-term unemployed, especially us older workers, and why aren’t we more actively seeking re-employment.  Here it is-Straight-up:  Public school systems, Magellan Health Services and your partner agencies in”promoting mental health”, County, state and tribal social service agencies- STOP THE BS AND START HELPING THE SITUATION, INSTEAD OF BEING A HINDRANCE.  Stop the shame games of accenting money, politics and personality where the focus ought to be on helping troubled people getting healed.  Stop claiming older workers who have done more lucrative jobs in their younger days are “overqualified” and therefore ineligible for the jobs you have available- jobs these older workers are perfectly willing and able to do.

American Red Cross- Shame on you for suggesting that someone like me, who spent years caring for his dying wife, is UNQUALIFIED to even take CLASSES in serving on a Disaster Response Team.

For the record, I have a current State of Arizona Fingerprint Clearance Card.  I have never been accused of, nor have I indulged in, crimes against persons, of any age.  I have, instead, been sober for the past 31 years, counseled over 2,000 people while serving as a school counselor and mentored at least three hundred others.  I have worked hard at every job I’ve been given, where the expectations have been clear and the rules have not shifted randomly, due to fear or gamesmanship.

I am one older worker.  I am the tip of a very large icebergWe,as a group, do not like being discounted, ignored or disparaged.  We do not enjoy working in dribs and drabs.

(I’m aware that posting stuff like this on Facebook is counterintuitive, and may not work to my advantage.  It’s more important for me to speak up.  I served my nation.  I loved and cared for my wife. I faithfully raised a productive young man.  I have loved and cared for thousands of children and teens, as if they were my own.  I will not shut up and go away.

Introverts, Extroverts and In-Betweeners

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Monday, 30 January 2012

  • I was born an extrovert- the kid who would march up and down on the sidelines of a parade, gladly run the woods with my fellow pre-school pals and take my grandparents on a guided tour of our new neighbourhood, when I was four-and-a-half.

    When my Dad started working nights, I began to withdraw into my books and .45 records.  Then I had a couple of head injuries from rock fights, acorn showers and such, and autism, however mild, set in.  I had a fantasy world and it met my perceived needs.  I went through school okay, and pulled myself together enough so that, by the time I was in high school, I was ambiverted- an In-Betweener, a mascot for the jocks and the self-appointed elite, and was always invited and included in the best gatherings and parties.

    This didn’t work so well when I was in the Army.  I did my job by day, and basically had no social life stateside, and a mildly sustaining one in VietNam, once I kicked MaryJane to the curb and hung out with 3-4 guys who were emotionally strong and accepting of differences.

    Back in school, after Honourable Discharge, I found more people to hang out with, both at community college and at university.  My angst and alcohol dependence didn’t help, but I worked around them, still the ambivert.

    Once out of school, I went it alone while working in Maine for two years, and was just happy to travel broadly around Maine and New Brunswick, hardly knowing anyone at my workplace, though getting attached to the people with whom I lived- the Robinson family and Mrs. Knox.

    It was likewise at the small boarding school in the desert south of Phoenix, where I was from’78-80, and at NAU in Flagstaff, ’80-’81.  I was close to the kids at Villa Oasis, and to the Art Teacher.  Others were either just a blur, or were overgrown bullies and had no importance to me. Grad school gave me two good sets of housemates, after I rid myself of the not-so-good.  It was, though, another stretch of introversion.

    Penny brought me back to In-Betweener status.  We were happy just being together, yet being in large groups was fun again, for the first time since high school.  Through all that’s transpired over thirty years, I’m still there in Ambivert Land, though, oddly, living in a gated community surrounded by hermits and other introverts.

    I mention all this because of TIME’s article on the subject in this week’s issue.  I took the quiz, and found myself being outgoing on 13 points and insular on 7.  Maybe that’s why I go stir crazy when shortness of cash keeps me close to home, and feel happier when I can go downtown, or to the trails or other public places.  I feel energized in schools, parks  and markets.

    How do you rate yourself on the intro-extro scale, with 1 being hermetically insular and 20 being ecstatically outgoing?  I am a 13.

A Personal Homage

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  •  (Reposted from Xanga)

    I stopped for about an hour on 12/29/11, at Inglewood Community Cemetery, just west of Los Angeles, to pay respects to the first American member of the Baha’i Faith.  He was  Thornton Chase (1847-1912).  After an upbringing in the Baptist Church, and some dabbling in the teachings of the mystic Emanuel Swedenborg, Mr. Chase encountered the Baha’i Faith, while living in Chicago in the 1890’s.  He became the first American Baha’i, in 1895, and confirmed his faith further, by visiting ‘Abdu’l-Baha in the Holy Land, in 1899.

    Mr. Chase moved to Los Angeles in 1909, a move orchestrated by his employer, so as to diminish his involvement in Baha’i.  It only resulted in his being more involved, as he traveled the West Coast for business, and spent time with Baha’is in the Bay Area and in Seattle, in the course of his professional duties.  His funeral in early October, 1912 was attended by ‘Abdu’l-Baha and nearly a hundred other Baha’is.

    His grave site is elegantly marked:

                       

    The inscription at the top of his tombstone is in Arabic, and translates in English as “God is the Most Glorious”.