Redemption

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March 2, 2024- I watched the film, Dune, Part 2, this evening. The plot is basically a “He who has the gold, rules” type of tale. Without giving away anything else, it is also a tale of several people who have various chances to choose redemption or condemnation. Each of us must make that choice, sometimes on a daily basis.

Three different types of people caught my attention today. The first, indicative of most people in my life circle, is a solid friend, who was just glad to see me, after two weeks. The second, drawn to me on occasion, is a self-absorbed soul, who sees self as a perpetual victim. (I have no resources to bail out a hand that is always outstretched, but that’s a whole other matter.) The third is an opportunist, who waited until I was off tending to a task, and grabbed a drink that I’d purchased and set down. Thankfully, this one is a fleeting presence in my life, and I know what not to do next time.

I have been the first two types, at one point or another in my seven decades and two years on this plane. I was effectively dissuaded, by my father, from being the third type, more than once. I stopped being the second type, mainly because it was isolating and self-defeating, as the present self-defeating people are finding out. It has been, and is, redemptive to be the first type. Those who love freely and pull their own weight tend to be happy, and self-fulfilled. We are not smug, and when difficulty strikes, we work through it. Those who have known me for a long time, or at least since the 2000s, know that the life I lead now has not always been the case.

I choose a path that is redemptive, not because other people dear to me demand it, but because it just feels better. The approval of family and friends is a bonus.

The Lion Roars Elsewhere

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March 1, 2024- The sweet older lady carried her box filled with Bell jars out of the small health food convenience market, as I held the door. A few minutes later, as I approached the register with my small purchase, she burst back through the door, still holding her box of jars. As I hung back from the register, the lady told the cashier about her morning. She had encountered a couple, in her gated community, who were going about the neighbourhood, visiting shut-ins and offering Holy Communion wafers to them. When she encountered the couple again, at a local fast food restaurant, she bought them lunch. That was a story worth waiting for!

The old saw states: “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” Lamb-like weather is here for a few days, whilst in the Panhandle region of north Texas and northwest Oklahoma, a furious spate of wildfires, tempered briefly by a wimpy snow squall, has sundered about five communities, leaving wreckage reminiscent of Paradise, CA and Lahaina, HI in their wake. Whether we look at this still extant destruction and blame climate change or over-development- or a mix of the two, the scenes are heartbreaking. No amount of blame can restore what has been lost. Only resolve, and united action, can bring about recovery.

The same is true, for entirely different reasons, as a lion of a different sort roars in Gaza. No matter one’s politics, or religious persuasion, the slaughter of innocents arising from the wanton disregard, by two armies, for human life cannot pass without condemnation. Both armies should stand down-and let both Jewish and Arab people find a common path to resilience. At this point, it doesn’t matter who started it. No community on Earth deserves to be destroyed by the rapacity of others.

This evening, I made my way down to Raven Cafe, for another great performance by local favourites, Scandalous Hands. There was no room to sit, initially, yet as luck would have it, a couple vacated their table, just as I was getting a cup of coffee from the self-service urn. I moved towards the table and spotted another couple who seemed to want to sit. We agreed to share the table, and it turned out they were first time visitors to Prescott. I would have gladly shared the table, anyway, but first impressions matter. They greatly enjoyed Scandalous’ music, and even got up to dance a few times. I gave them a few pointers for activities and music venues, over the next two days they are here, and some other information about the Southwest, as this is their first time in the region.

March is off to a benign start here, though it would only take an errant spark and a gust of wind, to turn the tables. My prayers and positive thoughts, for Texas, Oklahoma, Gaza and so many other places which don’t have the calmness, the serenity or even the festive mood that Prescott enjoys, as March begins.

Leaping Upward

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February 29, 2024- There were several kids who either said they wished I were around more often or greeted me with a solid dap handshake (fingers clasped, followed by a fist bump), making this Leap Day a fulfilling one. It was incomplete, as I stumbled on a bullying victim-whose case was made to the regular staff-so hopefully there will be some resolution.

The work of anyone who is involved in social justice is getting more intense and variegated, by the day. Someone mentioned, this evening, that she was trying to figure a way to make a better world, but without being drawn into the turmoil that seems to confuse humanity. I do not see any way that can happen. Turmoil will find us, and the principles that guide a decent soul’s life will help that person to offer solutions to the presently incomprehensible issues of environmental, physiological, social and spiritual degradation that hit us from all sides.

Those who hold on to memories of a simpler time seem to think that a strong, almost dictatorial, government, rooted in the evolved religious philosophy that was prevalent in the 1950s and early ’60s, will bring about a calming of the current apparent chaos.

Conversely, there are those who see a rigid, unyielding forced march towards unbridled acceptance of even the most deviant behaviour, victims be damned and a total casting off of logic and of even human biology itself, as an extension of the reasonable treatment of those who are victims of chemically-induced hormonal imbalance. The same people give off an air of rejecting anyone, past or present, who was, or is, not letter perfect.

Neither group will bring human society where it needs to go, because inherent in each of their arguments is a false elitism, rooted in fear of the “Other”. The lesson of every experience that I’ve had this week is that there is no solution, or even a viable trade-off, without involving all sides, in the discussion, and being, as Jesus the Christ said, “alert, to discern” the roots of a holistic peace. There is strength in some time-honoured practices and there is merit in changing the way we do other things. Only giving “the Other” a bona fide hearing, with both ears open and an engaged mind, can help in sifting the psycho-social wheat, from its chaff.

It is time for us to leap upward, together.

The Red Cross, Re-imagined

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February 26, 2024- After Hurricane Harvey, the Red Cross came under fire, from certain right-wing elements, for what was see as a lackluster response to the storm, in parts of coastal Texas. The criticism stung, certainly, especially for those of us who have done our level best, on the front lines of more than one widespread disaster. Leadership went back to the drawing board, nonetheless, and sifted through the accusations leveled at the organization. The focus was on doing better-much better. One thing was clear, though: The thinly-veiled expectation, that charitable organizations should just fold up their tents and let people struggle on their own, was not going to carry the day.

Those who had been operating as islands unto themselves listened with rapt attention, as a vision of the American Red Cross expanding its partnerships with local communities, local and state governments, faith communities and above all, other charitable organizations, was laid out, at a regional planning conference, this morning and afternoon. The various focus branches of the Red Cross will now be working more in concert with one another, something that those who help in several capacities have wanted to see for quite some time.

It’s long been known that organizations of any kind operate more efficiently when the various entities within talk to one another-and, more importantly, listen to each other’s ideas, regard the other’s problems as their own and develop an unshakable bond. Further, proactivity is vital to any person or organization that claims to offer solutions to the multiple problems arising, often in areas that have historically not seen much difficulty. Reactivity, playing whack-a-mole, has lost its efficacy; so, too, has denial.

The collective Red Cross mindset will focus on community mobilization; a strength-based, rather than need-based, approach; establishing itself in a community as a long-term presence, not “in and out”. Presence is seen as the mission. Transaction will be directed towards transformation. Training will be simplified, looking towards readiness and capacity-building, especially in the face of an increase in the number of disasters that leave billions of dollars in damages. The program will include language diversity, more volunteer town halls, regional stand-ups, bi-annual community briefings, and staff retreats. Public service announcements and billboarding will be more widespread, and no group will be left out of the loop.

These points appeal to me, as a member of the Baha’i Faith, because of that organization’s focus on inclusivity, proactivity and a responsibly progressive approach to facing social and environmental ills. I look forward to being an agent for bringing the two organizations, and many others, together, as a testament to the notion: “The true leader serves. Serves people”- Robert Habecker, “Servant Leadership”. The true servant works to unite.

The Age of Earth

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February 24, 2024- Four men in a vehicle, traveling for three hours and thirty minutes each way, can spend that time in a variety of conversational styles, from silence or one-word-dialogues (No thank you, to either of those) to elevated discourse. It’s best if the latter steers clear of politics, and today’s conversation did just that-focusing on the geological features through which we were passing.

Our planet came together, as an entity, 4.543 billion years ago. This is also called the accretion of Earth. The first known continent was Vaalbara, which formed about 3.6 billion years ago. Africa, the oldest modern continent, came into being 300 million years ago, followed, 100 million years later, by North America. The other extant continents’ formative dates were: South America, 225 million years ago; Asia, 66 MYA; Antarctica, 34 MYA; Australia, 10 MYA and Europe, 5 MYA.

This information, and the views that we enjoyed, traveling between Prescott and Mohave Valley, this morning and afternoon, were fodder for observations about the varied topography and geology. One may enjoy Ponderosa pine forests, that seem to go on forever, chaparral stands, Joshua trees, relatively barren desert, and rock formations from 1.84 million years ago-which are known as Vishnu Schist-this last, being close to the Colorado River, and the oldest layers of rock seen at the Grand Canyon.

As it happened, it was the Cerbat Mountains, a rugged, but rather low-lying range, in and around Kingman, which drew the greatest interest from the three men with whom I was riding, to and from the smoke alarm installations. Rocks have, over the past few decades, have achieved their due, both as scenic features and as backdrops for more extensive recreational activities. The Cerbats are mini-hoodoos, in spots, and have their share of fans, including the residents of Chloride, about twenty miles north of Kingman. I visited that old mining town a couple of times, most recently on the way back from a Carson City jaunt, in the summer of 2021.

The rest of the drive provided reminiscences of drives along a segment of Old Route 66, from Kingman to Peach Springs, and on to Seligman. The small villages, Grand Canyon Caverns and the various little restaurants and gas station coffee shops all have their adherents. My personal favourite is West Side Lilo’s, in Seligman, followed by Hualapai Lodge, in Peach Springs and Seligman Trading Post.

It is the scenery, though, that keeps me grateful for the chance to drive out to places like Mohave Valley (where we worked with the local Fire Department, installing smoke detectors). There are no boring places-at least not to me, or to those with whom I worked today.

Farewell, and Hail

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February 22,2024- From the dour expressions on a few faces, both in San Diego and back in Prescott, it seems like winter is getting on several people’s nerves. I felt great, though, even as leaving San Diego is never easy. A sweet and affirming conversation with a fellow hosteler got the day off to a good start, and my checkout was methodical-something I’ve only mastered, in the past three years. Once again, nothing was left behind. From Ocean Beach, I headed over to an old favourite: Harbor Breakfast. Friend Maria was not working today, but the fare was still top of the line. I handled a bit of business, as calls came in during this late breakfast. It’s all good.

Before the King Fire, before Yarnell Hill, there was Inaja. The 1956 wildfire in Cleveland National Forest, just south of Julian, CA, resulted in the deaths of 11 firefighters. I made a brief stop at the Memorial Park, as it was time for morning prayers.

Inaja Memorial Park, Santa Ysabel, CA
View towards the Laguna Mountains, from Inja Memorial Park.
Inaja Memorial Park, Santa Ysabel, CA

The stop reminded me of the fragility, and of the endurance, of the forest.

The rest of my drive back to Home Base I was smooth, and though I arrived in the middle of the devotional which prompted the straight homeward route, all ended up well. The focus was on peace, and tranquility starts within. So, winter or summer, cold or hot, it is ever worthwhile to focus one’s energies on keeping a positive outlook, even while dealing with the changes and chances that come our way.

All in all, this weekday break was a reminder of the value of refreshing one’s energy.

Alarm Bells

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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.

The Beads

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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.

Moving Parts, in the Land of Lincoln

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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.   

Enjoy the Silence

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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.