People of Value

7

June 30, 2016, Prescott- I will leave here, in a few short minutes, to visit with several friends and family members, scattered as we all are, across the Great Plains, Midwest, Northeast and South.

Earlier today, though, I stopped by the town of Yarnell, so horribly hit, three years ago, by the fire which took the lives of 19 brave souls and upended countless others.  I was not there for the formal ceremony, which will be addressed by an old friend and co-worker, himself grandfather to one of the men who died that day.  My extended spiritual energy will need to suffice, but at 4:42 PM, wherever I am on the road, I will stop and observe silence, at the very time the lives of the Granite Mountain Hot Shots were snuffed out.

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Future site of Yarnell Hill Memorial Park

This brings me to the wider concept of value.  Recent discussions, in various forums, have raised the matter of how much do the lives and livelihoods of men matter, anymore.  I have been in the situation of feeling devalued, and know several men who feel likewise.  It is not hard to find such people.  All one need do is go to a busy street corner, and notice the person holding a plea-ridden sign.

Of course, homelessness is a far more complex issue than I will address in this particular post.  My wife, son and I were homeless, for a few months in 1992.  We worked our way out of it, and managed to keep a roof over our heads- which I still do.  No, I am concerned right at this moment, with placing value on the persons and souls of the human male- every bit as much as I do with our precious, much-loved female companions on this earthly plane.

I will address this topic in more depth, but for now:  Let each human being realize that his/her dreams, and what they have to offer, matter just as much as anyone else’s.  We do nothing to make the Earth a better place, by excluding anyone, of either gender, or of any given category of humanity, from their rightful place in the mix.  Advancing one group, at the expense of another, is short-sighted, and has always contributed to strife, in the long-run.  There is room, to spare, for both men and women to work, contrary to the ongoing myth of scarcity.

Solstice

2

June 21, 2016, Prescott-

I read the tortured words of an angel, just now

and wonder at the eyes that don’t see,

the hearts that don’t feel.

I love, stay close, and don’t see her as a burden.

I listened, on Sunday, to my son’s angst

over his future,

and wonder how such a talented, fastidious soul

could question his own worth.

I love, stay close, and don’t see him as unworthy.

I will soon head out to yet another fire shelter.

We will do what we can to comfort, soothe and reassure

those whom nature, in her wrath,  has cast aside.

We love, stay vigilant and don’t see them as nuisances.

The day is long here,

and we hydrate, stay cool and stand in awe  of the Sun.

The day is short, down there,

and they bundle up, stay warm and seek the comfort of the Moon.

I have more work to do, on here, so stay tuned.

Pulse

11

June 12, 2016, Prescott-  My week was largely occupied with helping to man a shelter, for some 37 people who were evacuated from two communities, Yarnell and Peeples Valley, once again threatened by fire.  This time, no one died.  This time, there was minimal property damage.  This time, the fire was taken seriously, from the get-go.

The shelter closed this morning.  I helped with the breakdown, helped inventory the necessities.  Then, I went to the Raven Cafe, had brunch and came home.  My middle brother, in the course of a phone conversation, told me of Orlando.  He told me there were 50 dead.  He told me there were 50 other people, whose lives were in the balance.  He told me of the worst terrorist act on U.S. soil, since 9/11/2001.

Orlando/Beirut:  Many dead, in the former; many terrified, in the latter.  Two fine cities, united by atrocity.  The list of affected cities and towns grows.  The list of innocent victims multiplies. The hate continues.

Three years ago, when I was in yet another of the fogs that come with grief, and was making some terrible choices, one person came to my aid. One person called me and said, directly and convincingly, “This needs to stop.  You are acting crazy and it’s not going to end well.”  That person reset my mental clock.  That person, as fine a friend as I’ve ever known, is a member of the LGBT community.  That person and his fellows deserve all the respect and human dignity that those of us who are heterosexual, cissexual, or any other designation, can possibly muster.

Pulse is now a place of mourning.  Orlando is now a city dealing with two shocks: One small in scale; the other, the worst firearms attack in American history, outside of war.  Both shatter the convoluted logic that, if only good people had firearms, the bad would be at a disadvantage.  Yes, quick, decisive action by police officers did prevent more lives from being lost, in both incidents.  Yet, both shooters reportedly acquired their weapons legally.

So, our choice is this: 1. Honour the souls who have gone on, and not make excuses, as we have done- every single time before, including after 9/11 (“That Frenchman said the U.S. Government did it.”) and after Newtown (“Don’t you know those kids are in hiding.  Nobody really died, except Lanza.”)

2.  Stay in the mindset of ignorance, and denial, and watch, “helplessly”, as the carnage goes on, and gets worse, and comes to a theater near you.

I am listening, thinking, waiting- and mourning.  I will not stand idly by, if a demon rages  in my view.

Extended Family, Reno & Carson, Days 3 &4: Tides of Transition

5

May 31-June 1, 2016, Carson City- 

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Sundial, Carson City

We spent the past two days intermittently going through boxes, tending to errands in Reno, watching days 2 &3 of the new version of “Roots” and enjoying a fantastic barbecue, at the Sandoval residence.  Above is Veronica’s sundial, which keeps watch over her little swimming pool.  Uncle Gary, of course, had to get splashed, show her how to toss water at the far fence and discuss the meaning of an episode of “My Little Ponies”- which does have more intellectual fiber, for the minds of 3-5 year-olds, than we older ones might think.

Tuesday was busy, but peaceful here, roiling back at home base (Prescott) and generally a day that brought some enjoyment (see below), but which I was glad to see over. By bedtime on Wednesday, though, all was calm again.

We had a pleasant lunch at Mel’s Diner, in Reno, served by one of the most effervescent young women I have ever met.  Diner food is one of my guilty pleasures, anyway, so it didn’t take much to get me to agree to stop there, after Michele’s walk-through at her old apartment.

On the way back to Carson, we drove through Washoe Lake State Park, between Reno and Carson City.  The serenity of this place is reminiscent of several similar places in the Prescott area.

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Bridge along Hwy. 395, Washoe Valley, NV.  Mt. Rose is in background.

The bridge over Washoe Valley is remarkable for its length.  Mount Rose calls out to be hiked, but that is an item for another year’s agenda.  The Valley itself is stunning, as a place to unwind for many, and as a redoubt for the well-to-do.

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Deer, resting near irrigation sprinkler, Washoe Valley, NV

A herd of deer were roaming near this irrigation pipe, an excellent way to beat the mid-day heat.

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Beagle Rock, Washoe Lake State Park, NV

This rock was painted, by person or persons unknown, about ten years ago.

The crowning event of the day was Veronica’s tae-kwon-do session.  Watch out, world!

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Veronica gets ready to chop.

Watching my little angels grow has been a joy, for thirty six years and counting.  I thank the Lord this will be ongoing.  The session took me back to the late ’90’s, when my son was learning this martial art form.

The time here was capped with the above-mentioned barbecue.  The Sandovals pulled out all the stops, and presented us with everything from the usual hot dogs and burgers to carne asada and grilled pineapple.  Freshly baked  pan dulce capped the meal.  It was one of those “No more food for a month” affairs, which is what happens, in a loving environment.

Now, it’s time to head on down  to the next important event:  A 35th Anniversary Reunion of those who opened the Native American Baha’i Institute, in Burntwater, Arizona.

NEXT UP:  The highway that was once “America’s loneliest”.

 

Investing Time

0

May 27, 2016, Prescott- This was something of a free day.  There was no work, since we got all our end-of-year tasks done yesterday.  I had to take the Nissan back to the shop, to get a tire re-balanced and thus get rid of the Fifty Shimmy (what happens when an unbalanced tire hits 50 MPH).  Whilst this was being done, I had breakfast at a place called Waffles ‘n’ More, which is a rather popular eatery on Prescott’s northwest side.  Enjoying a waffle topped with sliced mangoes, I can understand why.  WnM has lovely Southwestern murals on its adobe walls, which adds to a joyful ambiance. I will go back again, when my car next needs service.

After breakfast, an early Memorial Weekend visit to Prescott’s Pioneer Cemetery allowed me to honour several deceased Baha’i friends, and Prescott’s premier historian:  Sharlot Hall, whose name graces our historical museum.  I will be out of town for several days, starting tomorrow, so this was a welcome opportunity to reflect on all who have gone before us and show appreciation for what each has given.

I was taken aback, later in the afternoon, by the sudden illness of a dear friend.  After several hours of diligent attention and labour by ER staff at our Regional Medical Center, it appears her condition has stabilized.  I felt relieved enough to attend a dinner in honour of disabled veterans and to do a 30-minute workout afterward. Household activities ended the day, in advance of a drive up north, to Carson City and Reno.

So went a “free day”.  Each moment one is given, can be spent or invested.  Sometimes recreation is investment; other times, so are work, acts of service or time socializing with loved ones.  The aim is to continue to build character.

Civil Wars

4

May 24, 2016, Prescott-  I have two days remaining, in my present assignment.  Next academic year’s work assignment is now at the paper work stage, where it has stalled for a bit.  Unlike previous such situations, this will not lead to me shooting my mouth off about someone trying to freeze me out of a job.  I have a lot more patience nowadays.

Patience, though, seems to be in short supply, in the world at large.  There is, simply put, either an epidemic of extreme fear or one of rampant narcissism, or maybe a mixture of both.    This feature is, of course, being played to the hilt by the forces of distraction.  Witness the turmoil over who gets to use what bathroom.  Some disclosure:  When I was seventeen, and visiting a public restroom in Boston, I was accosted by a gay man, who followed me out of the building and all the way to a telephone booth, thankfully leaving when I closed the booth’s door.

So, I understand the fears of people, which, by the way, are felt by both gays and straights.  No one enjoys being the object of attention, when trying to do their business.  The idea is to void, wash up and leave.  The issue, therefore, is hardly worth the attention it has garnered on social media.  This is one of the distractions on which those with agendas of control are counting.  Ever wonder why an insipid issue is floated by the media, right about the time that people need to be making serious decisions?

We are facing various kinds of “civil wars”, across the U.S., and in many countries around the world.  Consider:

Help refugees vs. Care for the elderly at home.

Enjoy a diet of processed foods vs. Strictly adhere to a vegan diet.

Innoculate with abandon vs. Abstain from any vaccination.

“Black lives matter” vs. “White people are an endangered species”.

I have friends, family and acquaintances galore, on both sides.  I have my own strong opinions, as to each of these issues, but my views, in the present forum, are irrelevant.  I love all of the above people, because God didn’t create junk.  I will say, to those whose beliefs are based upon fear, that the thing that is best for Mankind as a whole is what will end up happening.  None of us is exempt from suffering or discomfort, at some level.

All the same, none of us is doomed to oblivion, but by our own choice, or series thereof.  Even then, God is still loving, and the suffering will end, sooner or later- when the lessons that are needed, are absorbed.  Civil wars need not occupy our time, especially when they are so very futile.

 

 

Not Your Call

9

May 16, 2016, Prescott- 

(This is in response to people of various ages, who have attempted to harass me, in recent days.)

I am of “mixed race”.

It’s not your call,

whether I work in a particular school.

That I don’t fit your criteria

of Correct Colour,

means nothing.

I am a straight male, who acts his age.

It’s not your call,

whether I work in a particular classroom.

That I don’t like your gay come-ons,

and insults, means nothing-

to me, or to my friends,

whether they themselves are gay or straight.

I am a World Citizen.

It’s not your call,

as to for whom I vote,

who I call friend,

or who I think should be allowed in the United States,

or anywhere else.

Your fear blinds you,

a naturalized citizen.

It does not blind me.

Enemies of mine,

I make and live by my choices.

These are my calls,

supported by my friends,

those of my family who support me,

and my supervisors at work,

who believe in me.

I Didn’t Realize

8

May 14, 2016, Prescott

Many are the faux pas

that have passed my lips

into the twilight.

I didn’t realize,

until I was scolded,

that the way to get

a neighbourhood cleaned up

was not to just point out the mess.

I was nine, at the time.

Now, I just show up with my trash bags,

and get started.

I didn’t realize,  at the time,

that the way to show

affinity with another, was not to copy his

speech and mannerisms.

Now, I accept people for who they are,

and myself, for who I am.

I didn’t realize, at the time,

that the way to show love to

women and girls,

was not to just go on and on

about how beautiful they are,

but to encourage and support,

from where they are,

to move towards their dreams.

Now, if I call you friend,

it means I have.your.back.

No strings attached.

 

Festivals

5

May 13, 2016, Prescott- Yesterday was a very tightly-packed day.  Work was routine, at the small school where I spent one last, pre-arranged day,punctuated only by a snafu involving our paychecks.  This was nicely counterbalanced by a timely check from another district, where I spent another “final” day, late last month.

Dashing hither and yon, after work, I voted in an American Legion election, facilitated a Baha’i study session and finally settled in for the evening, at 7:30 P.M.  Someone remarked to me, earlier in the evening, that perhaps those with hyper-busy schedules are covering up something.  Maybe, but in my case,  there is more of a sense of responsibility.  Trust me, I do like my unwind-time, and am comfortable in my own skin.

Now, I am back at Prescott High School, for the last ten days of the academic year, with a very strong possibility of returning in the Fall.  It’s Spring Festival time, so a school end-of-year assembly was held this morning, and Carnival is now being held, somewhere on campus.  I am with a few of my kids who just need a place to sit and feel safe.  That’s always been my wont- in too many places in the world, there are marginalized people.  In any high school, most find a niche.  Some end up in niche like mine, a good-sized, comfortable classroom, with a few computers, three round tables and an air of “you matter”.

Festivals, like surfable waves, hiking trails and 5 P.M., are always to be found, somewhere in the world.  Most are modest affairs, appealing only to locals. Yet,  each of them makes a big difference in the lives of several people.  So, great and small, they sustain us.  I have felt sustenance from many festivals, from the annual Ridvan gatherings, Thanksgiving Dinners and the camaraderie of St. Patrick’s, Fourth of July and Hallowe’en to the  every-so-many-years that I might make it to Mardi Gras, Chusok or Diwali.

Mostly, though, it’s what you make of every single day, that constitutes a festival.

No Idea

11

May 11, 2016, Chino Valley-  I went up here, today, and will again tomorrow, to fulfill a promise I made, before getting the long-term assignment at Prescott High School.   It gives me a chance to continue the friendships I was fortunate to establish, before leaving the little school, just before Christmas.

I have thought a lot about what my place actually is, in this tempestuous time.  All my life, quite honestly, I have felt good about putting other people ahead of myself, and have not suffered as a result.  This continues; my own needs are actually minimal.

Occasional melancholy creeps in, and I think of those I love, intensely, even in my own family, who have no idea how to love me back.  I have to remind myself that there are others, whom I have not loved back.  Part of the grieving process, for me, at least, has been keeping something of a lock on my heart.  When I have unlocked it, and reached out, it’s most often been at the wrong time, toward the wrong person, and BAM goes the hammer.

It’s a circular logic, I know, that has to stop with me.  So, I make an earnest, solemn vow to renew the commitment to having no expectations of anyone, other than myself.  It’s a process, and can be a rewarding one.  That, alone, is what gets me up in the morning, and keeps me looking forward to the next chapters.