Of Life and Death

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March 12, 2017, Prescott Valley-

Gathering on a sunny morning,

we studied the Word of God for this Day.

A group of card players came,

and asked if they might use the room,

in which we were gathered,

as it was a large room,

and there were only a few of us.

We were glad to oblige,

and moved to a comfortable alcove.

The comfort of our neighbours

is not a matter of life and death,

but it MATTERS.

Across the globe,

dozens of people,

living in an Addis Ababa slum,

returned to God,

when an avalanche of refuse

collapsed upon them.

The survival of our fellows,

IS a matter of life and death,

and it MATTERS.

The Flip Side

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March 10, 2017, Prescott- 

God has graced man and woman

with one another.

Most children are blessed

with loving parents.

I have been so graced and blessed,

since before I was born.

There are, however,

those, of both genders,

who neither grace their mates,

nor bless their children.

They, of both genders,

who beat their mates,

who abandon their children,

either physically or emotionally,

what do they suppose

happens to those they discard?

There is no human refuse.

Whoever gets left behind,

by those they love,

gets picked up by someone else.

Teachers, social workers,

volunteers, family members,

sometimes,

even neighbours, take up the slack.

Most are good-hearted,

but sometimes,

they are more of the same.

The question begs:

How can anyone look at a child and not love him/her, unconditionally?

We have so much work left to do.

(This was motivated by the report, out of Chicago, that a woman brutalized and killed her granddaughter. She was found guilty today.  It was further motivated by today’s findings at work.)

 

Immortal She

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March 5, 2017, Prescott-

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The wind has blustered, all day.

It blusters, still.

The water level in the reservoirs is high.

Cottonwood Peninsula is inaccessible.

Far away, across the Pacific,

a young man celebrates turning thirteen.

North of where he revels in his adolescence,

another young man, nearly sixteen years his senior,

thinks of his departed mother.

Gone six years now,

she lives on in memories,

and watches us all,

from the Placeless beyond.

I am asked,

‘Have you moved on?’

I am asked,

‘Are you not lonely?’

Behind those queries

is always the thinly veiled,

‘How about ______?’

‘What’s wrong with _______?’

The truth be told, though,

I am secure.

Other times, I may think,

‘ I have this blotch on my cheek’.

‘I’m missing a few teeth’.

I may say, under my breath,

‘I have no means to support another person’.

The truth be told, though,

I am secure.

She, the immortal spirit,

would let me know,

if my life should change.

She would let me know,

if someone waits in the wings;

just as she let me know

that she was waiting,

so many years ago.

 

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Photos are of an at-capacity Willow Lake.

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six,Part XIII: Civility

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March 4, 2017, Camp Verde-  I began the day, helping with a Red Cross Home Safety activity, in a neighbourhood near the main fire station, in this town that lies over the Black Mountains and some forty-five miles east of Prescott. We worked with town firemen, installing smoke detectors along a street that abuts the fire station.  As I had done a similar task, late last year, in Sedona, the event today went very smoothly.  The firemen are also past masters at installing the devices, which made it smoother still.

After that, I took a couple of hikes, one along the Verde River, at Clear Creek Day Use Area and the other in Copper Canyon, which lies southwest of Camp Verde.  More about each of those, tomorrow.

Today, though, comes the matter of civility. We have, before us, a sitting President accusing his immediate predecessor of conducting surveillance on his signature office building and residence, during the brouhaha that masqueraded as an election campaign. Said predecessor, speaking through his aides, denies the accusations. Time, and investigation, will, of course show who is being truthful here.

We are in the throes of incivility, and have been, for some time now.  Consider:  It was four years ago, last December, that 26 people were slain in an elementary school.  Two days after the carnage, unknown militants threatened to kill both the survivors of those victims AND a man who had taken other children into his home, and reunited them with their parents.  The trolls were insisting that all the above were part of a Federal conspiracy to confiscate weapons from private citizens. Never mind that seven of those families were headed by members of the National Rifle Association, and owned weapons.

Consider:  Survivors, loved ones, of American military heroes, have been, and are still being, attacked by uncivil people-of both Alt-Right ( in the case of the Khan family) and Far-Left (in the case of Karenn Owens) political bent.

Consider:  Trash-talking by adults about, and towards, children is almost de rigeur, online and in the check-out lines of stores; in public and, no doubt, in trusting private.  Children have been treated like mini-adults, by the media, for some time (Children of colour, in particular, are most often referenced by surname, in the mainstream media).  Many parents, citing “freedom of speech”, are following suit.

The way adults treat one another is often little better; thus, the reverse role models, who give kids the notion that no level of profanity, no level of insult, is too extreme.  To the innocent mind, this seems like a perfectly acceptable way to be taken seriously, and thus, filth streams out of many children’s mouths.

I was raised to be civil, and I know I am far from alone. Anonymity is cited as the reason for road rage, Internet trolling, stalking, and bullying of all stripes.  It is not valid.  We can see those at whom we honk horns or flip the bird, and whose vehicles we tailgate or cut off.  We can read the responses, see the fear or sadness of those we attack on social media.  We can feel the trepidation and notice the unease of those we try to intimidate.  The bully knows what is being done.

It all goes back to our self-image.  If, deep down, one doesn’t feel he/she matters, then no one else matters, either.  The fact is, each of us does matter, or we wouldn’t be here.  Each of us does have a mandate to be civil- regardless of the false mirrors we see on television, in the movies, on stage and the messages we hear on radio or see online.  Each of us could learn from those whose opinions differ from ours, because each of us has a portion of the truth, within our psyches.

Each of us could choose to be civil.

 

 

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XII: Healing

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March 3, 2017, Prescott- 

Some kids asked for Beatles music

In particular, “All You Need Is Love”

Teacher put on Scottish folk tunes,

and bagpipery, instead.

The focus was on painting Tartans,

on sheets of felt.

Emotional healing is the hardest,

because the medicine is so fleeting.

Painting, music and dance

are the remedies she has chosen

for our charges.

Some resist, because the pain

is just too deep.

For me, there is also

the element of fasting.

I kept it simple,

explaining that I simply

don’t eat lunch,

until after Spring Break.

It is a far less onerous

mental task,

now,

then back in the days

when I needed to cast off

my consuming ego.

Most folks, though,

find healing begins

when they are seen and heard.

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XI: Purification

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March 2, 2017, Prescott-  

A handsome, smug man, in his twenties, happens upon a lovely woman, about his age, tries to get a date with her, and is rebuffed.  He stalks her, online, and screen-shoots photos she has posted on her social media.  He finds that, instead of going on a date with him, she went to a rave, at a converted factory.   Incensed, (no pun intended), he goes to the very next rave, finds her, and drops an incendiary device near where she is standing.  He has carefully jammed the nearest exit shut, the device goes off, and 39 people die, in the ensuing blaze.  The woman he wants survives, but is burned over 30 % of her body, and is blinded.

This was the gist of a three-part episode of Dick Wolf’s “Chicago” quadrilogy, which aired Wednesday evening.  It hit hard at me, for several reasons:

  1.  I have had a family member, by the grace of God, survive severe burns and go on to live a full life.  I could not imagine life without that family member.
  2. There was a time in my life, about seven years, when I was rebuffed by women, primarily because of my own awkwardness and quirky behaviour, not because of any particular flaw on their part.  I never harboured any desire for revenge against any of them, figuring we would each find our own special soul.  I did, and had thirty good years with her.  One of the women, I know for certain, also did and has had nearly 47 wonderful years, with a very good man. I’m willing to bet that a good many others have had fine relationships. I’m glad we’ve all moved on, in peace.
  3. I maintain that the worst human loss is that of a parent losing a child.  Thirty nine couples lost a child, in the triptych mentioned above.  My in-laws lost their daughter, nearly six years ago.  My mother lost a son, many years ago.  Some good friends have lost children, over the years.
  4. I know children, still of formative age, who show serious signs of heading in a sociopathic, or at least misanthropic, direction.  Good people, professionals, are doing all they can to head such a fate off, at the pass, in a manner of speaking.  Yet, we can’t save everyone.

This is the season when we Baha’is conduct a Fast, of nineteen days’ duration.  There is a physical component:  Able-bodied people, between the ages of 15-70, take no food or drink, between sunrise and sunset, during those nineteen days.  The more important spiritual component gives rise to examinations of self.  It is all about purification, as the season of Lent, which coincides with our Fast this year, does for Christians, when conducted at its best.  The self-examination aspect is what led me to share the above observations.

Ever-standing

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February 23, 2017, Prescott-

Over the past three years, I have been roundly excoriated by the following:

Alt-right extremists

Far-left extremists

Pedophiles

Misogynists

Strict disciplinarians

Free-child advocates

Other Baby-Boomers

Gen-X’ers

Crabby children

Cranky seniors

I must be doing something right.

Whatever, I’m still here.

 

The Universe Says “Stay Put”

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February 18, 2017, Prescott-  This weekend being a holiday weekend (President’s Day), I had penciled in a hike or two.  Lo and behold, the rains have come!  We have to lick this drought thing somehow, though, so here I sit.

Taxes got done, though, and I have a chance to honour a couple of friends who are moving to California. There will be a gathering for them, tomorrow, at 1 PM.  A friend from Oklahoma will be here, tomorrow afternoon and evening.  Monday will take me down to Phoenix, for a wellness appointment, and I will get in a first hike on the Maricopa Trail afterward.  It will give me a good indication of just how the rain has affected the Sonora Desert, perhaps for the last time until Fall, depending on how warm March and April turn out to be.

Life always manages to bring a full course to my table, whether I’m at work, on the road, or just chilling here in our lovely sky island.  Some say that this is exactly what will keep me going, for years to come.  We’ll see about that, but I know it won’t ever be dull.

 

And Then, There Are These

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February 11, 2017, Prescott-

I did a routine workout at Planet Fitness, this evening, after having visited a tax prep office, finding out I was short a critical document, and getting that document printed off a website, which will serve me well- the NEXT time I go to that tax office.

On the way out of PF, I passed some young adults flirting/ connecting.  This is as it should be, especially of a weekend evening.  Life, even in hard times, should continue with certain features:  Infants learn to walk and speak for themselves; toddlers should say “No”, and thus begin learning their limits; children should continue that process, while acquiring life skills-hopefully in a safe, nurturing environment; teens and young adults should be able to visit confirming situations, in which they might feel an ocean of hope and a wealth of encouragement; older adults, like me, should be in a fully affirming, supporting role, for those on their way up the ladder, supporting,.

I am concerned about what lies ahead, for our nation and for the human race.  I know, in my heart of hearts, that our species has a grand future, long-term.  I also know that, in the short run, there are forces of reaction that will play on the fears of some basically decent people, many of whom I know and love, perhaps leading them to do harm to others, who I also know and love, because of the divergent ways they express themselves and live their lives.  I cannot, will not, choose to participate in any movement, group action, or, certainly, any pogrom directed at a people or groups, based on ethnicity, faith, gender, sexual orientation or political affiliation- in either direction.  For having said this, I have already been excoriated by a bitter, diffusely angry man, in another online forum.  So be it, as long as necessary.

My life, by year’s end, will feature: An end to a business affiliation of 36 years;  the second of four school years, in which I work full-time as an educational paraprofessional, with the possibility of a fifth, and more attention to qualitative aspects of my service to others.  I may take stands that will cost me friendships, but it will always be the dispossessed, the downtrodden, the kicked-around, who have my heart.   There, will go my heart and head, in synchronicity.

Sixty-six for Sixty Six, Part VI: California Turnstile

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February 8, 2017, Santee-  I had not spent much time in San Diego’s eastern ‘burbs, prior to last night.  I was pleasantly surprised to find a homey little motel, Villa Embasadora, in El Cajon, a town I have previously associated with huge malls and Miles of Cars.  It is a working man’s motel, so my neighbours were up, and off to work, between 4-5:so, this morning.  After dawdling, online and with my prayer book, i headed off to find breakfast, around 8:15.

A further drive down East Main Street brought me to Pizza Stop, which, despite its name, is a highly popular gathering place for full American breakfasts.  I went inside, expecting to be seated by myself, perhaps at a corner table, away from home-schooling families and small groups of older ladies.  Surprise!  I no sooner had made my way to a two-chair table, when I was summoned to join a large group of my male age-mates.  Seems that eastern San Diego County, with a large population of retired military men, has three service clubs, which help provide security at San Diego’s football stadium, and other large public facilities, in the area.  Most of the men in the room  about 50, all told, were in their 60’s and 70’s.  It was like being at an American legion or VFW breakfast, only writ large.  The breakfasts are huge, keep-ya-full all day affairs.  The group gathers, Morning Lions Club-style, every two Wednesday mornings.  It was a great mid-week start to yet another transition in my life.

My son, Aram, heads to South Korea tomorrow, for a 1-2 year tour of duty, which may or may not be his Navy swansong.  While 2019 seems far-off, I know, from the freshness of memories from 2011, on to last year, that it will be upon us, sooner than realized.  So, as with any life event, we both have several contingency plans for that time.  (I’ve had contingency plans since I babysat my younger siblings, when our parents were out for the evening.  I was 11-13, and whenever they were late coming home, I had the phone numbers of my aunts and uncles at the ready.)  In the meantime, I headed up the road, to Santee, in the foothills of the Laguna Mountains, where Aram had some last-minute business.

I will relax at this Best Western, in Santee, until we head out, early tomorrow morning, to San Diego International Airport.  Once Aram is on his way to the TSA line, and other fun stuff, I will need to head straight back, towards Prescott, and my own present routine; thus, the “turnstile” aspect to this jaunt.

My next visit west, in June, will be to the north of here- from Orange County to Santa Barbara and Ojai.  By then, my son will be acclimated, once again, to life in Korea, the land of his birth.  Time will tell if I get back there, myself, during the next two years.