First Survey of the Year

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January 5, 2016, Prescott- 

At the behest of one of my Xanga friends, here goes:

  1. List 3 names you go by:
    1. Gary (Preferred)

    2. Mr. B (used by my students)

    3. Gare Bear (rarely heard anymore, but used by ex-Xangans, back when I was Cyberbear on Xanga)

    Name 3 places you’ve lived:
    1. Saugus, MA (from the time I was six months old until I left for the Army, and again in 1972)

    2. Cheju, Korea (1986-92)

    3. Prescott, AZ ( 3 separate stints-1992, for six months; 2000-01, for twelve months; 2011-Present)

    List 3 places you’ve worked:
    1.  Star Market ( I was terrible at bagging, but I did work for one of my two best bosses- Bob Powers)

    2. Jeddito School (The best job I ever had:  School Counselor, K-8, a job into which I grew)

    3. Mingus Springs Charter School (Red-tape led to a short tenure, but I proved I could teach coherently, day-to-day)

    What are 3 things you love to watch:
    1.  People treating each other nicely

    2.  Animals in the wild

    3.  Children feeling genuinely happy

    Name 3 places you’ve visited:
    1.  Mendenhall Glacier, Alaska

    2.  Mt. Halla,South Korea

    3.  Utah Beach, Normandy

    Name 3 foods you love to eat:

    1.Baked stuffed shrimp

    2. Lasagne

    3. Hummus

    Name 3 favourite beverages:

    1.Coffee (Cream only)

    2. Mango Iced Tea

    3. Filtered water

     

    Name 3 things you are looking forward to:
    1. Working with children & teens, for at least five more years.

    2. Resuming summer travel, starting with the Philippines and nearby countries, in 2017.

    3. Seeing my son and other family members realize their dreams.

Calm and Bright

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January 2, 2016, Prescott- The sense of calmness was all around me, this blessed morning, as I walked downtown, to deposit my rent in the landlord’s account.  There were few outside, other than tourists headed to a taxi stand, baggage in tow.  In Wild Iris Coffee House, I took a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, surrounded by a dozen or so awakening souls, under the steampunk ceiling.  Calmness and brightness, then, are not confined to the ancient German skies that are illustrated in the most tranquil of all Christmas carols.

This year has started out as a benign counterpoint to the tumult of the last two years.  I’m certain it will not entirely remain so, with a turgid election facing our nation and the onward march of a world in transition.  It is, however, largely what we the people make it.

In my own space, I have determined to make small forward steps- like downsizing my possessions and their accompanying junk.  I no longer feel the need to keep every receipt from the last 7-10 years, what with the banks keeping electronic records.  I don’t have to hang on to all manner of keepsakes from every classroom I’ve covered since Penny passed on.  Books that I’ve read will be passed on to the Friends of Prescott Public Library.  My wardrobe will, gradually, be updated, with the oldies but goodies passed on to the clothing bins- a process I started this past year.

Exercise will be more consistent. I will show up in the gym more often. Travel will be more on foot, meaning I walk more, locally, and when away from this area, park in one spot and walk from there.  My visits to friends and family will be shorter in duration, and certainly less intrusive.  Indeed, as I look back, the best times I’ve had visiting with people are those in which I did not overstay.

These are commitments, not “resolutions”.  My resolve, though, has not changed, from years gone by.  I enjoy work, exercise, service, learning and being there for my loved ones.  The course will remain the same.

Highway 16

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January 1, 2016, Prescott-  Yes, I know it’s still 2015, here in the American West.  It’s New Year’s Day in Rouen, France, one of my ancestral homes.  It’s also 2016 in: Silesia, Poland; Bremen, Germany; and Tours, France- three of my other ancestral homes.  In 5 1/2 hours, the New Year will come to Old Town, Maine, where my Native American relatives still live.  I am starting to beat a dead horse.

I will use the road motif for this year’s posts, much as the Road took me to age 65.  Highways indicate assertiveness, clear vision and moving out with a purpose.  So I intend 2016 to be.

I came back to Home Base, yesterday, to find I have a financial issue to settle, and will tend to it next week.  In the meantime, bills and rent will get paid and I was, thankfully, able to fulfill a promise I made, last week, to help a sick friend.  My nest egg isn’t growing right now, but neither is anyone else’s, in Wall Street’s mad rush to sell anything that’s not nailed down.  My nest egg IS nailed , though, so the bears can just go back into hibernation.

Meanwhile, I am not hibernating.  The next three days will see me on one trail or another, as we enjoy crisp, clear weather.  The schools will be back in session next week, and I will be ready for whoever needs my services.  The certification process will take a bit longer- ADE doesn’t save transcripts, so those need to be re-sent, and my long-ago teaching internship host will need to verify that I did complete “practice teaching”- in Fall, 1975.  So, I see that process being successfully completed by the end of January.

My essential oils have benefited me, health-wise, and I will be at three conferences, this year, that focus on their promulgation.  This month, and June will find me in Boulder and September features an International Convention in Salt Lake City.

Travel in the summer will depend on how well I do, work-wise, this winter and spring.  A week or so in Reno/Tahoe, at the end of May, is a given.  Anything beyond that, though, remains to be seen.  In any case, the focus will be on time with friends, not on “Here’s Gary at yet another fabulous site!”  I never want the latter to be how all this is viewed.

Reading is still huge for me, and with the Kindle, an excellent library system and three nearby book shops, I will never run short of material. I am currently engrossed in “The Witches:  Salem, 1692”, Dick Van Dyke’s “Keep Moving”, “Terra in Cognita”, by a fellow Baha’i:  William Barnes, “Extreme Ownership”, and “The Dinosaur Heresies”.  My tack is to read at least ten pages of a book, then go to one of the others, and so on.

This year marks the Centenary of ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s initial offerings of “Tablets of the Divine Plan”.  I will have much more to say about this remarkable set of documents, during the course of the year.  Suffice it so say that, without the guidance I have received as a Baha’i, the person some in my family remember from long ago, and still think they see, would still be stumbling around- and I would not be blogging, to say the least.

This year also marks the Centenary of the National Park Service.  I will visit several National Park holdings in Arizona, and around the Southwest, in the course of this year.  Most certainly, my boots will meet some trails of the Grand Canyon, and Canyon de Chelly, for the first time in 18 years.

Most importantly, though, is WHO I am going to be in these next twelve months.  That will never be defined by anyone but yours truly.  To say otherwise would be to invite chaos.  Some, not far from here, want me to move nearer to them.  That is not happening.  Others would rather I stay as far away from them as possible.  So be it.  Any given decision could be resolved in at least seventy different ways.  The factors, for me, are these:  Service to those in need, especially children and youth; my own family’s well-being; my ability to fend for myself (I am not presently, nor will I be, a burden on anyone else); and, lastly, the overall circumstances of the world-at-large.

Happy 2016, one and all!

 

Islands Converge

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December 6, 2015, Marana-  There are two parts of this northern suburb of Tucson.  The “new” area is close to I-10.  The “old” section consists of older ranch-style homes and a few brick dwellings, with large lots, that are spaced apart.  The neighbours barely know one another.

A friend of mine moved into the area, about two years ago.  Yesterday, I joined her gathering of the neighbours and some of her co-workers.  About twenty-five people showed up, so a start was made at bringing the “islands” closer together.  The consensus was that a neighbourhood where people are anonymous to one another is a neighbourhood at risk.

Time was, when we knew everyone within a four-block radius of the house.  That was in the Boston area of the 1950’s and ’60’s.  When we lived in Phoenix, we knew those on either side of the house, and a few people across the street. Here in my current residence, I have a nodding acquaintance with all but one of the neighbours.  The man immediately above me is the sole first-name basis, friendly sort.

It is of course, a two-way street, and one that is rather bustling. My friend in Marana simply regards the matter as one that ought to be resolved for the overall safety and well-being of all the area residents.  We are a species that depend on interaction with others, lest we lose heart, from isolation and negative self-talk.

The afternoon, and evening, were filled with affirmations for most who attended, and heartfelt discussion afterwards brought a consensus that more such events should be planned.  Here are a few scenes of the day, including a few spirited young dancers

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The first several guests

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The repast

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The hostess

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San Bernardino

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December 2, 2015, Chino Valley-  I was involved in overseeing a series of lessons, holiday song practice and the making of decorations for our classroom.  Then, there was the pilfering of a math test master copy, which did the thief no good, as I simply switched to Format B, for tomorrow’s assessment.

Then came news of the latest horror, the killing of 14 people in San Bernardino.  I have been through the Inland Empire many times, most recently visiting nearby Riverside, whose downtown I find quite enjoyable.  I have only driven through the edges of San Bernardino, and my feelings for the place have been mainly vicarious compassion and concern.  I was worried during the serial arsons of 1980-1, when it appeared someone was dedicated to taking out as much of the city as possible.  During the Big Bear hostage-taking and murders, a few years back, I felt an ominous twinge, that the shooter might bust out of the resort town, and engage in further mayhem, down the mountain.

Today’s events, unfortunately, come as no surprise.  “Berdoo”, as some have called it, has always presented itself to me as a city on edge.  The shopkeepers and wait staff in area restaurants have seemed to be of shorter tempers than in other parts of the I.E., and certainly other parts of California.   The city has its charms, and it would be a fine thing if those were accented.

Now, however, we see another dark day, shaking the calm that had started to set in, a few days after the carnage in Colorado Springs.  I always feel we need, as a nation and as a species, to close ranks around the suffering, and most definitely in both of the most recent episodes.  No city, no community, should have to hang its head in shame, and no place ought to feel abandoned by its neighbours, or by the rest of humanity.

As the answers come forward, regarding the reasons behind this latest attack, let us tell San Bernardino:  “It’s going to be alright.  America is with you, and the nation will not forget this day- anymore than we would forget the terrible anniversary coming up:  Sandy Hook.”

Giving Tuesday

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December 1, 2015, Chino Valley-  I received exactly 156 requests for money today.  Mot of them were online.  I gave modest amounts to three charities.  That the Solicitation Industry is alive and well is more than a cliche.  Need is great, and I have to figure out a meaningful way to help some destitute friends, yet, before the month gets too old.  Said friends are across the country, and anything I do for them will only be a token, but so be it.

There have been times when I looked homelessness and extreme cold in the face, and got through it, with help from both stranger and friend, as well as through my own resources.  Institutionalized help does do a lot of good, but there is always the Administrative factor, which includes salaries for the staff.  I would strongly advise http://www.charitynavigator.org, in that regard.

It has been quite cold here, the past three days, and my Nissan complained mightily this evening, before starting up and getting me to a friend’s house, for a short visit.  Yes, my car could take a considerable chunk of my resources, yet.  That is something we all have faced, from time to time.  I may have to get an old blanket to put over the engine at night, on days to come, just as my father did a few times, in the New England Decembers and Januaries of old.

Thus has the final month of 2015, and my first full month of 65, begun.

The Road to 65, Mile 365: Janus, 2015

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November 28, 2015, Chula Vista- I woke this morning, to a fabulously blue sky, with my body telling me it is still happy, under my care.  Son got up, about an hour after I did, and with my support, tended to an urgent matter.  A while from now, his second housemate will begin moving in.  The day will revolve a bit around that process, and a small pre-planned activity.  This last reminds me of my actual 60th:  With Penny in bed asleep, eight of us observed the day with pizza, soda/iced tea and a small cake.  Serendipity, randomness, have their odd beauty.

I will get outside, in mid-afternoon, and we will find a spot for hiking, for an hour or so.  Then, I will change clothes quickly and we will head out for dinner- most likely in Little Italy.

I spoke, yesterday, of people departed during this 65th year of mine.  Some were friends of many years’ duration.  One was a cousin-in-law.  Too many of my friends lost a parent.  I sense the Divine Concourse is now that much fuller with well-wishers.

There were some goals fulfilled in the past twelve months:  I made it to southeast Alaska, Vancouver and Victoria, San Antonio’s missions, Santa Barbara and Panama City, FL.  Haida Gwai’i, upper Vancouver Island, Half Moon Bay, and Kelowna, BC remain on my radar.  I found a blessed spot, Aanacortes, WA, which could easily be the next Prescott in my life, should the Universe direct me outwardly. (No such move is imminent, though.)

I did not have any further association with Mountain Oak School, but proximity to Mingus Springs School has led me to close a significant gap in my skill set, and if nothing else, my value to school systems in general increases with the elementary teaching certificate that I will obtain, within the next month.

My Faith community is more focused, and I will be active in that process.  Also more focused is my work with essential oils, and business cards, at long last, will bear my name and hint at my skill set.

So, as the journey begins anew, I look outside at a beautiful San Diego day, and see what my life will face, going forward.  Tomorrow, a new year will find its basic outline.

 

 

 

The Road to 65, Mile 364: The Stuff That Matters

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November 27, 2015, Chula Vista-  The brisk walk from Aram’s apartment to the area’s Costco was a two-mile round trip.  I carried a small box, with salad fixings and a brick of sharp cheddar.  I could have driven, or taken the bus.  Instead, I was inspired, both by my own tradition and by a tourist in New York, who preferred to walk uptown from One World Trade Center, so as to “see what I’m passing.”

Having made two long journeys, this past year, I can say I saw alot.  There are differences between the Pacific Northwest and the Gulf Coast, but also key similarities.  Both are humid and moist.  Both have people who are passionately close to the sea.  Both require crossing starkly beautiful deserts, if one approaches by road or rail.  Both have compelling stories to share and both have celebratory traditions.  The Native Americans and First Nations peoples of Oregon, Idaho, Washington, British Columbia and southeast Alaska have civilized traditions and lore going back thousands of years.  So do the Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, Miccosukee, Alabama, and the hybrid nation we call the Seminole.  The story of the Aboriginals of North America matters, immensely.

Having hiked up Mt. Verstovia, along East Glacier Trail, six miles around Ketchikan, all over Manzanar, on two more segments of Black Canyon National Recreation Trail, and along the Prescott Circle, not far from my place of residence, I feel continually blessed by nature, health and mobility.  The environment matters, enormously.

I spent time among the historical remnants of early European settlers and missionaries, in Santa Barbara, San Luis (now called Tallahassee) , San Antonio, Wrangell and Sitka.  They wreaked havoc on those they found in the area already, thinking that educating the “savages” and exploiting the natural resources were their twin obligations to King and Country.  Their successors followed suit, and I saw the results- some worthy of respect, (Tonopah, Bellingham and Moscow,ID), for the honest labour that modestly claimed a share of the resources of land and sea.  Others, like the ravaging of Native Peoples in Sitka and Hoonah, the slaughter of Chinese immigrants in Hells Canyon and the internment of Japanese-Americans, as recorded for posterity, at Manzanar and Poston, stand as reminders of just how far we have to go.  The historical record matters, tellingly.

I returned to work, towards the end of this, my 65th year, secondarily to recoup some of my financial resources, but primarily because the well-being of yet another rising generation needs whatever champions who can arise.  I will work another five years or so, as long as my health and the goodwill of the powers that be remain strong.  The people we call “Millennials” and “Generation Z” matter, beyond measure.

I will miss Margaret and Ardith Lambert, Tom Boyd, my Xanga friends who called themselves Inciteful and Sister Mae, and feel the losses of several friends’ parents, whom I never met, but sense their character, in the people their children, who are my friends, have become.  Losses matter, achingly.

I visit with my son, not as often as I would like, but when our mutual schedules permit.  I communicate with my immediate and extended families, again not as regularly as is desired, but often enough that we know we are there for one another.  I visited with an elder in Colorado, at the beginning of this year, attempted to spend time with another elder in Florida, though to no avail, and did visit with people I regard as family, in Alabama, Mississippi, California,Nevada, Washington and Alaska.  Family loves, quarrels, understands, misunderstands, hides, seeks and ultimately stays in bond.  Family matters, indelibly, and yes, to answer an online friend’s plaint- family includes friends.

Central to all has been Faith.  Looking back at the past 6 1/2 decades, I could never have survived my own missteps and foibles, or the trials sent my way, without knowing that there is something greater, Someone Indestructible, always seeing and caring.  Belief, and the Faith Community, matter, in primacy.

So, my road to 65 nears an end.  It has been vast, long, alternately wide and narrow, by turns straight and curving.  It started at the end of a year of intense expansion of personal boundaries and ends at the beginning of a year of unknowns.  Decisions made by others will figure greatly in my course of action.  Time goes on.

 

The Road to 65, Mile 363: Thankfulness and Grace

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November 26, 2015, San Diego-  Every so often, the American Thanksgiving conflates with other occasions of import.  In 2013, for example, Thanksgiving and my 63rd birthday occurred on the same day. 😀

On other years, such as this one, we Baha’is observe the Day of the Covenant, along with Thanksgiving.  The former is a celebration of the life of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, eldest son of Baha’u’llah, and His immediate successor as Head of the Baha’i Faith.  It is so named because ‘Abdu’l-Baha stressed loyalty and obedience to the written Will and Testament of His Father, a document entitled Kitab-i-Ahd, or Book of the Covenant, over loyalty and obedience to a given human being.  This aspect of our Faith has proven its worth, time and again.

Mirza Abbas Effendi-e- Nuri was born on May 23, 1844.  As he was coming into the world, His Father’s Herald, al-Bab, was proclaiming His own Message to humanity:  It was coming time for all mankind to unite, and He was to prepare the human race for One Who would show the way that this could be done.  Abbas Effendi was given the title, ‘Abdu’l-Baha (Servant of Light), when He was nine years old, and was the first to recognize His Father’s station, as the Messenger of God for this day and age.

‘Abdu’l-Baha forbade celebrations of His birthday on May 23, but reluctantly agreed to observances that celebrated His life, while focusing on the Covenant of Baha’u’llah, the promulgation of which was ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s prmary focus, during His twenty-nine years as Head of the Baha’i Faith.  Thus, each November 26 has been dedicated to that purpose.

So, on this Thanksgiving, I am grateful for having been guided to this spiritual path, and to the perfect example set by ‘Abdu’l-Baha.  His are larger shoes than any of us can hope to fill, but it is worth the effort, for the sake of developing and strengthening our virtues.  They guided me to my marriage, to the birth and raising of our son, in whose company I celebrated another marvelous Day of Thanks and to the various friends and places of joy which I have been fortunate to meet and see, over the past thirty-four years.

 

 

The Road to 65, Mile 361: Paper Turkeys

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November 24, 2015, Chino Valley- Today was the last day of school before Thanksgiving Break.  The concept of a two-day work week is a bit foreign to me, but I will take it, gladly.   It’s the season of my birth, after all. I had the kids do homework, last night, and maintained my regular teaching regimen today, with one adjustment:  Many children treasure the idea of making paper turkeys and Pilgrims. So, we spent the afternoon class hour, before P.E., following tradition. One little girl made an Indian headband, with a paper feather sticking out.  Some made separate turkeys and Pilgrims.  Others designed turkeys wearing an Elizabethan-Era hat.

This sort of fun activity, for elementary school students, harms nothing and no one.  Some will say that “The truth about the Pilgrims must be told!”  Yes, it does need telling, and to people who are of an age at which the black, the white and the gray can all be processed, and sifted out.  Sharing such information, too soon in a person’s life, is exactly what has brought on the excesses of Political Correctness.

The Pilgrims and Puritans were dour, narrow-minded people, as regarded those of other faith traditions, both European and Aboriginal American.  So, too, were the Spanish and Portuguese.  Many of the Founders of the United States were slaveholders, men of their time.  The best of these slaveholders were progressive in other ways, and some educated their chattel-people.  None of that excuses their slaveholding, but therein lies a tale of lives lived in the gray.

I teach older students, when I am with them, to avoid throwing the baby out with the bath water, as it were.  There has been, is, and will be, no public figure, aside from the Messengers of God, who is a paragon of perfection.  Every person worthy of emulation also has aspects of his/her life that are less than savory, even despicable.  So, one must choose the good elements, and sift out the bad- Wheat from chaff, as The Christ told us.

I will long adhere to things like playing Hallowe’en and Christmas songs, encouraging holiday art, and having birthday parties, when a child’s parents request them.  Childhood should not be frayed at the edges.  It’s when we have time to learn who we are, and build a firm foundation for life’s course.

Bring on the paper turkeys!