Category Archives: Personal Values

Alarm Bells

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Historical, impediments, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 16, 2024- The three of us went in the front door,at the main Fire Station, in the small, sprawling community of Mohave Valley, east of Needles. We were there as part of the “Sound the Alarm” program, by which the Red Cross, acting in concert with local Fire Departments, first leaves flyers for an upcoming smoke detector installation, in a given neighbourhood, then returns, 1-8 days later, to install the detectors, where requested.

The event was scheduled after two recent house fires in the area. The first claimed the lives of a pregnant woman and her baby,as well as her in-laws. The second, in nearby Bullhead City, claimed the lives of five children. I walked by the ashes of the first house, this afternoon. Workers were clearing the debris, with the aid of a bulldozer. The eerie silence resonated, broken only by the barking of ubiquitous guard dogs, who seemed to be in every yard in the five-block area. I can only imagine the heartbreak of the surviving son, husband and father, going on alone.

Looking for the Chief and his Captain, we were informed that it was lunch time. So, we ourselves went off to Bonanza Cafe, where we found good quality diner fare, served with a smile. The smiles broadened, when we told the server why we were in town. A patron named Kevin, sitting nearby,paid for our lunch as he and his wife left the restaurant. . People tend to like those who take interest in their community.

Once back at the Station, we planned out our canvass of the five-block neighbourhood, a mix of new homes and mobile units. We focused on the mobiles, as building codes have mandated hard-wired smoke detectors, over the past ten years, or so. The task was made very light, actually, as we were joined in the canvass by an engine and an ambulance, which were thankfully not called away during the activity.

Thus did my brief “hiatus” from Red Cross volunteer service come to an end. It turned out that this interlude was brought on by an AI glitch, not by the fit of pique that I had noticed, at our last meeting. Microsoft marches to its own drummer, and doesn’t much care about who is getting along with whom. We three got along just fine today, and the software that interferes with our collaboration will be fixed soon.

After, the canvass, we were taken on a tour of the Fire Station, by Captain Tim. He explained that much of the new equipment we saw had been purchased with grant money. The Wildland Firefighting equipment came in handy, earlier this winter, when a blaze broke out in the rough country along the Colorado River. The hills above the nearby tourist town of Oatman are also constantly at risk. A Rehabilitation Vehicle is also on site, courtesy of a grant. This unit serves as a place for firefighters, particularly Wildland staff, to rest in shade, rehydrate and get snacks or solid food, during the exercise.

During his remarks, I thought of the southern Arizona community of Bisbee, which had experienced a major fire, yesterday, in its historic downtown. Bisbee’s water lines are 100 years old, which doesn’t help when an event like that happens. Two buildings were damaged, and the rest of Old Bisbee needs urgent attention, to ensure that the community doesn’t become another Lahaina. Captain Tim spoke of Maui, in stressing the importance of grants for fire fighting, in stressed communities. He also noted that networking, across several communities, has been a hallmark of firefighting, even before the concept became in vogue for society at large.

With all that in mind, we visited two families, one in Bullhead City and one in Kingman, so that our team lead could process their claims from recent house fires. The first was having a yard sale, getting rid of as much excess as possible. The second was at his extended family’s home, three blocks from the fire scene. In each case, Red Cross helps with small cash allowances for short term accommodations, meals and replacement of some personal items, such as clothing, while the victim(s) await insurance settlements.

It was a fourteen-hour day, from the time we left the Red Cross office, here in Prescott, until I was finally dropped off at Home Base I. No matter-it was a fine resumption of the service that gives me affirmation. The day had started with a message from my Beloved, and ended in the knowledge that there is far more love than hate or indifference, in communities large and small.

Consistency

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Education, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving

February 15, 2024- One of my correspondents stated that surely the person I love the most, in all the world, must be my late wife. I have never stopped loving Penny, nor will I. She is not, however, any longer in human form, and has, in fact, given spirit blessing to my having a special friendship with another human female. Where that will go is yet to be determined, but so far, it’s working nicely-long distance. It is a consistent communication, from both ends. It is mutually honest and dignified. It is flexible and considerate, by each of us.

I had a good work day, yesterday. Covering five music classes, in two schools, using a combination of video-based instruction and students keeping rhythm and counting beats. I was consistent, and did not need to raise my voice. Using free time to organize the lesson, in the second school, was reassuring to even the rowdiest of the kids. They appreciated that someone valued their time enough to make sure that the lesson flowed.

My dermatological report came back essentially clean. What little that needs attention will be resolved with the topical cream that I got last August. Sunscreen, a hat and keeping covered did the trick, even with time in the Philippines and our Arizona sun. The key is consistency.

I have the added incentive of wanting to be whole, to be healthy, for the sake of someday being with the one I love most on this Earth. More basically, though, I want to live a full life, just in my own space, until that day comes, and afterward. One must remain consistent, in order to be whole. So far, I’m doing better, in that regard.

Three Times in Love

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Posted by on in collaborating, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 14, 2024- I read, on the back of one of my baby pictures,of all that coursed through the young woman’s heart, as she gazed upon her first born child-yours truly.        Thirty years after that photo was taken, a winsome, effervescent young woman came up to me, and started talking about the event where were both in attendance.            Forty-three years after that night of rain and snow, a winsome, effervescent and mature woman came over to me and began talking of her family, smiling broadly with pride in her daughter.

It’s said that one only falls in love with three people, in this life: The love who looks right; the hard love and the love that lasts. This theory takes in an adolescent crush, as its notion of first love, but leaves out the obvious person: One’s opposite sex parent. My mother was my first love, and set the ideal for anyone who came along later. I learned my code of conduct, love of learning and attention to detail, from that diligent and sometimes exacting woman. A boy sees, hears and feels the love of his mother, above all the other females in his young life. I didn’t always listen to her, and bristled, as often as I acquiesced, to her dictums and rules. A man ponders, internalizes, and often passes on to his own progeny, those same precepts-along with what was learned from his father.

I had my share of adolescent crushes, none of which came to anything, and as an emerging, but still immature, thirty-year-old I started to feel something stirring within myself-after living a hard twelve years of struggle with alcohol dependency, a fairly obvious place on the autism spectrum and a pretty serious level of self-loathing. That stormy night, in December, 1980, I came face-to-face with the woman who would be both the love who looked right and the hard love. We worked through a lot, raised a child, and raised each other, past a lot of lingering adolescence. She brought a renewed Faith in the Divine, into my world, and refined my idea of unconditional love. It could be said that she made a man out of me-and certainly impelled me to cast out my lingering demons. That was a process, though, that lasted beyond her own time in this world, and caused me some grief, for a few years after death did us part.

The third love is the one we don’t see coming. I certainly was taken aback, having resigned myself to living out my years surrounded by friends, but essentially alone. Yet, there she was, captivating me more than anyone had, in a good many years-and certainly as much as Penny had, on that night in Zuni. This time, we were part of a group, which went to some places together and, right up to the day I left their company, did not consciously strike me as an agent of the change that was to come. I was cavalier about when I would come back to visit them. Yet, underneath it all, feelings began to bubble to the surface. Before a month had passed, from my return to Home Base, I knew I was in deep.

The love we don’t see coming is said to be the love that lasts. I personally think all three last. I will always be looking out for my mother, as long as she is alive, even though she is safe and secure-and 2,655 miles away. I will always be praying for the well-being and advancement of Penny’s soul, even as her spirit continues to guide me. I will continue to communicate, often daily, with the woman for whom I feel a welling of love, and carefully build a lasting friendship, based on mutual respect and devotion.

All three are strong, independent souls, capable of fiercely defending their loved ones, their values and their own persons. That strength, independence and ferocity, as I mentioned yesterday to a distant friend, are what bound me to my mother and drew me to Penny, and to K. Only a strong woman can truly bring out the strength in a man.

So I wish my third love a Happy Valentine’s Day, and can only hope to be as valued in her heart, as she is in mine.

Here’s Tommy James, offering a take on the notion.

The Beads

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Entertainment, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Slow Food, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 13, 2024- “Laissez les bin temps rouler”. The good times are no doubt rolling, in New Orleans, in Mobile and way down south, in places like Rio de Janeiro and Port of Spain. In the Big Easy, there’s a lot of tossing beads at those lining the parade route, but that’s just the throwaway part, and there are those whose first concern is the content of the stringed glossies.

I have been on the periphery of Mardi Gras, twice. The first time, the bus I was riding rolled into NOLA, early on the morning of Ash Wednesday, 1987. Piles of stringed beads, leftover jambalaya and crawfish pila were all over downtown, but I was told the French Quarter was already clean as a hound’s entire mouth-never mind a single tooth. The second time was on the little sister of Mardi: Lundi Gras, in 2015, as good an excuse as any to extend les bon temps to four days. Things were already red hot in the French Quarter and a woman tossed a string of beads to me, from one of those balconies that could easily have featured a t-shirted Marlon Brando calling for Stella, at the top of his lungs. I think I made do with a large slice of pizza for lunch, and had my jambalaya later, in the evening, at a nice spot in Lake Charles.

Getting back to the beads, I gave mine to a granddaughter of the heart, that summer. Now we hear that the beads themselves may contain varying amounts of lead. By now, she has probably long since tossed the cheapo stringed glossies. What appeals to a four-year-old is an eye roller, when she reaches the age of twelve. Needless to say, if I have it to do over again, I’d graciously accept the beads, and find that algae pond that an intrepid high school freshman in, I believe, Missouri, said he’s using to break down the lead-infused beads.

My Mardi Gras today consisted of a spirit walk, checking out the end of downtown Prescott’s easternmost north-south street. Cortez Street goes up a short hill, and ends as a cul-de-sac, where there is an apartment complex. Things didn’t get much more rapid fire after that- A Mexican chocolate latte, a walk past the Granite Creek mural (will video that rather charming masterpiece, on Thursday) and a workout at Planet Fitness, rounded out the good times. My Mardi Gras meal was four small Buffalo Chicken empanadas. The times, though, are good enough. I learned a lot, this evening, from a community activist’s presentation on urban gardening. There is much good afoot, in Columbus, OH.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It is also the beginning of Lent, for Christians. I guess that means I should not eat chocolates, when walking by a church that’s letting out. Since Mom taught us not to eat while walking outside, I’m good. Valentine’s Day, this year, feels different. More on that, tomorrow. For now, here’s Ric Ocasek, with another take on Les Bon Temps.

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-d&q=let+the+good+times+roll#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:b2a6648a,vid:Zj-b3fWrY3w,st:0

Moving Parts, in the Land of Lincoln

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 12, 2024- Lincoln’s Tomb is closed on Mondays. That gives the spirit of the nation’s 16th President a break from the mostly reverent, but sometimes excited visitors, to the extent that spirits need a break from mortals. Today was a day, for those who do such things, to recite the Gettysburg Address. Time was, when memorizing that speech was required in school. For some reason, that went away, before I got to the grades where it was in the curriculum. My late godmother, and eldest maternal aunt, taught me what she remembered:

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.“ 

The middle of the speech was missing from her remembrance. One reason might be that her father, a native of St. Louis, who had moved to Saugus, MA to raise his family, was quite opinionated against anything Southern. So, it fell to me to later learn that missing part: ”Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.“ 

Papa, from what I heard, felt that the two-tiered system that was segregation had made of the Black man a dissolute and shiftless burden. He remonstrated with men of colour whom he encountered, to quit standing around and follow him into work. He blamed everything on the Jim Crow laws, but thought the Blacks should stand up for themselves-and not seek handouts. I wonder what he’d have made of the Civil Rights movement, had he lived to old age. (He died in 1935, at age 53). 

Abraham Lincoln was well-regarded, by both sides of my family. In 1979, I visited his boyhood home, in Knob Creek, KY. In 1997, the three of us, Penny, Aram and I, saw what was free of the National Historic Site dedicated to him, in Springfield, IL. In 2011, I went back to Springfield and visited the National Historic Site, and New Salem State Park,, more extensively. The Tomb, though, was closed that day.

We have, as a nation, gone through several spurts of revisionist thinking, in which Lincoln’s flaws have been advanced by some, as a reason to topple him from the pedestal. He made a grave error, in sanctioning the execution of 30 Dakota men, in Mankato, MN-as the Civil War was at its zenith. He may have been influenced by lingering memories of his time in the Army, during the Black Hawk War of 1832. That would be ironic, though, as the Dakota people supported the United States, in its dispute with the Sauk. It is true that he reduced the number of people to be executed, commuting the sentences of over 60 people, but the thirty who were killed constitute the largest number ever put to death in the United States, by Presidential fiat, outside of a declared war.

It is also true that Lincoln once expressed the view that an enslaved Black person was legally 3/5 of a white man. He wrestled with that, especially after meeting and holding conversation, at length, with Frederick Douglass, a freed slave who had made good of his life. Ultimately, as we see, he determined that freeing enslaved people, first and foremost in the Confederate States, and a bit later, in the border states that were still loyal to the Union, was both the moral and the practical economic right thing. He lived to see the first, but the second occurred not long after his assassination.

I thought of both my maternal grandfather, and Mr. Lincoln, while contemplating the movement of people across national boundaries. There is, no doubt, an order to be followed, in admitting people to a nation. The common people who already live in the country need to feel that their needs are not being sacrificed for the sake of newcomers-and yet, those newcomers should not have their needs sacrificed for the comfort of the wealthy or of large corporations. This is as true of the United States as it is of any European nation, of Japan, of Canada, or of Australia, to say nothing of emerging economies.

It is, in fact, most important to help those economies to continue to emerge, if a real solution is to be found to the mass migration issue. Most people I’ve met, over the years, in countries like Mexico, Guyana, the West Bank and the Philippines, want to stay where they were raised, where their roots are-just as people in developed nations do. Most who move are fleeing lack of opportunity or lack of safety. So, the true solution, as my grandfather would probably have said, is to provide meaningful work and a safe environment, in every part of the world. THAT, rather than investment in guns, bombs and deadly chemicals, would serve to reduce the numbers of people on the move from country to country. There is much to be done, and it will likely far outlast my lifetime, but it is worth starting the process.   

The Long Game

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 11, 2024- As Super Bowl LVIII went into overtime, thanks to the teams being evenly matched, and both having very accurate Kickers, the notion of Long Games came to mind. The Chiefs eventually won by three points, but it could have gone either way.

That’s how it is with Long Games, of various kinds. The experienced player, or team, sometimes wins, by dint of a superior use of skills. Other times, the victory goes to the upstart, fresh and hungry, poking holes in the Old Pro’s defense and guarding own position. 

What is seldom, if ever, true in sports is the notion that the Big Dog is just handed a victory, because that’s the way the world works. This also applies to business and to a good many other human endeavours. Political affairs, unfortunately, may be different, but that’s a matter for another time.

For now, I want to look at my own long games. One is Plan A; the other, Plan B. The first depends on how things play out with someone for whom I care deeply-and the jury is out on how that will go. I am not going to impose myself on anyone, ever. She does, however, keep in regular contact, so the long-distance period of our friendship is holding nicely.

 The second, as always, will find me turning to my spirit guides, dusting myself off, and proceeding on my own, with both service around Home Base and time on the road. I feel that a lot of good has come from that game plan, especially over the past seven years. It would be nice, though, if the two of us did some version of this, together.

The Long Game requires patience, resolve in the face of setbacks, and being able to turn on a dime, so to speak. In yesterday’s post, I mentioned being summoned awake, at 4:44 a.m. I was reminded, by another friend, that 444 is a numerological indicator that a person is being prepared to face a greater challenge, rising to a higher level. There is no immediate indication of such a thing in my life, but who knows? Frequently, calm (like what is happening right now in my life) precedes a storm. Besides, I have already shown, time and again, that I can handle whatever life throws at me. No matter who walks away or closes a door, I’m still here, and there will be other doors to open.,

Enjoy the Silence

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 10, 2024- The young stock clerk asked me if I were a professor, at one of the local universities. I answered in the negative, whereupon she told me a have a doppelganger who teaches aeronautics. Such a small world.

I was awakened, this morning, by a soft spirit voice: ”Open your eyes; open your eyes”. I did so, at 4:44 a.m., and got up, starting my day. The first thought was-“Maybe something has happened, to a loved one.” Nothing happened. I was up, awake, in a silent neighbourhood, with no urgent messages on my phone or on social media. What the spirit voice was trying to convey is still unclear, sixteen hours later.

I ran out of steam, right around the time that a community meeting was halfway finished, and a friend had to nudge me awake. This is due to having run out of Lifelong Vitality Supplements, which seem to be the only thing, other than coffee, that help me stay awake through meetings of any kind. Funny, but when I have to be physically active, there is no fatigue setting in. 

There is a sudden quiet on the volunteer front, as well. Both Farmers Market and the local Red Cross office have decided my services are not needed, at least for a while. Some of this is push back for being enamoured of someone who lives far away-as if that is any of the paid staff’s business, or anyone else’s, for that matter. Lord knows, I haven’t made a big deal of my private life. There are other issues, with Red Cross, but those, too, are superfluous to my effectiveness as a volunteer. Life will go on.

As recently as two years ago, I probably would have had a meltdown over this turn of events. This evening, the choice was to go for a modest workout at Planet Fitness, observe Lunar New Year with an Ubon dinner at an Asian & Hawaiian restaurant, and stock up further at Trader Joe’s. This was sparked by the commentary on an online conference, presented by the Space in One World network, which seeks to establish commonality between people. The speakers made many valid points, with two sticking out as apropos to my present status: 1. It is time to work with people one may not like; 2. When one door, or several, close, it is crucial to look for those that are still open.

The stock clerk, at Trader Joe’s, also made my day.

Looney Tunes

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Posted by on in Community, Entertainment, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 8, 2024- I love February, in spite of itself. I love it, despite the lingering cold, the slowly receding dark and the icy roads of morning and late night. I love the second calendar month because we humans respond to dreariness, with festivity: Lunar New Year, Super Bowl Sunday,Mardi Gras (I will never willingly say “Fat Tuesday”, anymore than I would say “plastic silverware”, “six-month anniversary” or “Feb-yoo-ery”. -but that’s me.), Valentine’s Day, and Ayyam-i-Ha (Days of God’s Essence, or Intercalary Days), which are the Baha’i gift giving period. This last is called Intercalary Days, because the Baha’i devotional calendar consists of nineteen months, with nineteen days each. That leaves four days (five, in a Leap Year), at the end of the year. 

It is also a month when I see an increase in behaviour, of the kind that the late President Reagan would call “Looney Tunes”. Maybe it’s a reaction to lingering cold, slowly receding darkness, icy roads, or All-American malapropisms, but I have to ask: Why insist on driving 60 mph, in the dark, on an icy 35 mph road, with heavy snow coming down? Why refuse to shovel one’s section of sidewalk, or at least have someone else do it, when there is 5-6 inches of snow on it, and the Sun isn’t coming out for quite a while? Why make such a furious mess about Taylor Swift?, and my fave-Why go against your own bill that would restore some sense of order to the Mexican border?

I will leave those questions, and the proper pronunciation of “February”, to those with intelligence quotients that are several points higher than my own-people like Taylor Swift, for example.

On a more serious note: My sincerest wishes that there be a dry period in California, so that our western neighbours can get on with repairs to roads, bridges and beach fronts.

It’s Snow Barrier

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 7, 2024- I got up this morning, right at 5 a.m., and checked online messages. Although there was nearly a foot of snow on the ground, at Home Base, the school district where I was to work today had not completed its safety assessment, meaning that schools were still technically going to be in session today. So, I got ready to go in, went through my morning routine-then got a message that school would be delayed two hours. I laid down and drifted off to sleep. When I got up, forty minutes later, the snow was still coming down, and another message informed me that school was canceled for the day.

Reading and replying to a message from my dear friend, across the ocean, and going through some posts online took up part of the morning. I joined the apartment manager’s husband, to shovel the driveway, then went downtown for lunch, as I had not been to County Seat, since their hours had been cut back for the winter. They have an amazing Reuben.  Back at Home Base, after lunch, I finished clearing the upper driveway and the lower parking stalls. 

It has been a quiet afternoon, with the prospect for working tomorrow as scheduled, 50/50. More snow is expected overnight. Landslides have caused havoc in California, from this storm, and in Mindanao, Philippines, from slight tremors, that have nothing to do with precipitation. It is the dry season in the western Pacific.

The last note I got today was from the Farmers Market staff, giving me three weeks off, as new workers are being trained in the whole operation, which includes Breakdown. Other things are popping up, to take up the slack, so it all works out.

Simply Put

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 6, 2024- “Do not tell me ‘No’.”, the precocious five-year-old stated. So, I did what any sensible adult would do. ”No”, was all I said- and he wasn’t asking where a man might find a bed. He got the point and went off to engage in an activity that was within the bounds of the class’s purview.  I had not worked with Pre-schoolers, in eight years. The instructional day hasn’t changed much: 3-year-olds in the morning and 4-5 year-olds in the afternoon. There are 5 adults working in the morning, and 3 in the afternoon. We locked the doors to the closet, to the cleaning supply cabinet and to the hallway. A couple of kids cried, when they didn’t get their way, and I showed one of them how to resolve the triggering issue, without melting down. At day’s end, it was still raining, so we walked the bus riders through a completely enclosed route and to their designated vehicles-keeping very sharp eyes on our little charges, all the way. Yes, school has been in session for six months, but small children are small children, and I retain too many anecdotes, from over the years, of kids wandering off, going to the rest room without telling an adult or even falling asleep-on the wrong bus, and being left there, because the driver had checked off all his “regular” riders, and hadn’t checked the actual seats. The angry father all but made the Superintendent go to the bus yard, when his little girl didn’t come home, as expected.

Simply put, no stone is left unturned, anymore, when it comes to child safety, and parental nerves.

California was pummeled, again today, and will be, into tomorrow, as another Atmospheric River soaks the region, from Ensenada to the Lost Coast and from Los Angeles to the Colorado River. This, of course, means Arizona and Nevada are getting their share of wet. It rained all day, here, and now it is snowing, briskly, with six inches on the ground,as I write this, and lots more to come, overnight. I pray that friends and family in California and Nevada are safe-and that we, here, also keep clear of harm’s way.

Simply put, Mother Nature is scolding us, for the self-centeredness of all too many, who disregard her warnings.