Category Archives: Social

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXXIV: Different

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Personal goals, Social, Striving

May 11, 2017, Prescott-

I have, as most are aware, led a life that has been far from conventional.  My love and I did not play by the rules, as much as we might have, when purchasing our home, in 2003.  I did proudly bring in my mortgage check, for five years, whilst juggling her increasingly unpredictable medical state.  Then came the Madoff scandal, which hit us, indirectly.  Then came the “Great Recession”, bankruptcy and short sale.  Three years later, she was gone.  Son moved on with his life, a testament to our own resiliency, and his.

We, the survivors, are hanging in there.  He’s fine in Busan, South Korea, as far as I can tell.  I am stable in Prescott, as far as I can tell. Money is tight, but no matter.  Those who played by the rules have their struggles, as well.  In the end, we each have what we’ve earned, and little else.

My autism has made me different, from day one.  I approach new situations, new groups of people, from a distance, with some caution.That’s caused issues with others, who jump into newness with both feet, and think a delayed response is a sign of apathy.  It’s caused initial issues with women, who are more in tune with connection.  After reading my heart, much of that has faded away, but it still irks me- that I can’t.quite. be. as forthcoming with new friends, as seems reasonable.

Life is better now, though.  At this age, most of those around me have either been through their own scar-fests (my contemporaries and elders) or are heart-readers (children and teens).  I have one goal, for my own behavioural exchequer:  Feel less inclined to hang back, in new situations.  ACCEPT that most people are naturally inclined to be social, to be accepting, themselves.

It’s okay to be different.

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXXII: Art Town Serenade

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Posted by on in Community, Social, Travel

May 8, 2017, Cave Creek-

In my thirty-three years of Arizona life, I had never been to the oft-celebrated, sometimes kitschy, seemingly quiet but artfully shimmering oasis that is downtown Cave Creek.  The southwest is filled with these kinds of places.  I live in one, and have been to several others.  Each has its share of solid, hardworking artistes, and several have kitsch galore.

After a routine dental check-up, I got a message to visit here, whilst at my beloved’s grave.  These notions almost always lead me to a special place, and to increased personal insight.  Today was no exception.

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Local Jonny’s is at the south end of a one-mile stretch that makes up Cave Creek’s arts and entertainment district, aka “downtown”.  It’s attached to “world-famous” Flat Tire Bike Shop, so one could have his bike fixed, whilst savouring a breakfast burrito and cup of delectable brew-of-choice, or carry a cup of java around, whilst selecting her very next entry into Tour de France.

When it was my turn to order, the counter attendant, Hannah, looked me in the eye, as if to say, “It’s about time you showed up !”, and cheerfully took my order.  She had a large, exquisite, Flat Tire Burrito and sumptuous coffee on my table, within five minutes. Jonny’s is one of those places, like The Raven Cafe, Marino’s and Two Mamas, in Prescott, Macy’s European Coffee House and Toasted Owl, in Flagstaff, and Sun Flour Market, in Superior, where if one feels not at home, it’s not the fault of the house.  The ladies told me that Cave Creek is just that kind of place, as a whole, from end to end.

After my early lunch, it was time to check out the A & E.  Cave Creek reminds  me, a lot, of Bisbee, Mesilla Park and Laredo, in the number of metallic art shops, selling all manner of animal figures, made from cast-off  steel, iron and copper.

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Disneyesque Frontier Town opts for wooden figures.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES Essentially, the love and sense of fun, that is exuded here, is not to be bottled up and stored in a cave.

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So, I found that Local Jonny’s, and a dozen other places around town, could easily answer the question posed by another visitor:

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I’ll be back, time and again.

“He Was At Home Here”

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Matters of Faith, Social, Spiritual, Striving

May 6, 2017, Cottonwood-

There was a magnificent scrum of motor vehicles, and drivers, when I arrived at the parking lot of Taco Don’s, and took my place in the rapidly forming motorcade.  The hearse and family cars were followed by the motorcycles, then the classic cars (Jayme was a car buff, being from eastern LA County) and us friends and admirers, taking up the caboose end.

We set out ahead of time, and had cleared Prescott, by the time we were originally supposed to leave.  Some stragglers caught up with us, on Highway 89A, and passed ahead, to get to their designated spots.  By the time we reached Jerome, and wended our way through the “ghost town’s” streets, everything was in perfect order.  Jerome, like much of the Central Highlands, is in full bloom.  Here are some lupines, that graced our view.

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We reached Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, on the northwest side of Cottonwood, with 30 minutes to spare.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that the church’s cross-street neighbour had set up two golden Dol Harubangul (Korean “stone grandfathers”, the symbol of Jeju, where we lived from 1986-92).  This was very much something that Jayme would have found wildly amusing.  As the statues are usually black volcanic rock, this was definitely a nod to the area’s mining culture.

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Immaculate Conception is a spacious, majestic parish church- almost cathedralesque, in size and airiness.  The celebrant priest, also a friend of Jayme’s, noted that the man “felt at home here”, making frequent trips over the mountain, on Sunday mornings, perhaps because of the exhilaration one feels, when going through the pines, and along Jerome’s streets.  The church felt quite homelike for us, this morning, with a robust celebration of Jayme’s relationship with his Lord and an outpouring of love, from his family and closest friends.

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The exquisite service left me chastened, as funerals so often do.  I thought, once more, of my own ongoing mission, knowing that being there for others, something that Jayme Salazar did so well, and at which I am improving, is imperative.  We will all gather again, in his memory, on May 20, for a Fiesta Grande, at Prescott’s Watson Lake Park.  I promised his dearest friend that I would be there early and leave late.

One other nice touch- when I stopped for lunch, at Colt Grill, in Old Cottonwood, the soundtrack featured Mike and The Mechanics’ “The Living Years” and REM’s “Everybody Hurts”.  The Universe always speaks clearly.

“If you don’t give up and don’t give in, you may just be okay.” – Mike Rutherford

“Hold on”.- Michael Stipe

Seen, Heard, Believed

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Posted by on in children, Family, Social

May 4, 2017, Prescott- 

My kids value being greeted at the bus

each school day.

It actually hurts their feelings,

if circumstances get in the way

of this happening.

They tell me things that go on

at home, around the neighbourhoods,

just like my other kids did,

back in the day.

There is this thing

called eye contact,

undivided attention,

heart connection.

There is this thing

where they matter,

more than the rules

of “Boys Town”,

more than Policy.

There is this thing

where I see them

down the road,

in a few years.

There is this thing,

where I tell each

of them,

that a bright future

lies ahead.

There is this thing,

where I tell them,

that the only one

keeping the door locked,

ultimately,

is themselves.

I’ve said it before,

“seen and not heard”

is a heinous lie.

Whoever coined that phrase

is guilty

of crimes

against humanity.

There is a child,

whom I’ve never met,

who was molested,

a few years back.

I read of her family’s struggles,

trying to deal with

something they don’t understand.

They want it to go away.

Sexual abuse,

like any other loss,

never goes away,

entirely.

Whoever said “seen and not heard”,

is a secondary monster,

extending the pain

inflicted on the child,

by the primary perpetrator.

Victims:

Be seen, heard and believed.

 

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XXVII: The Only True Network

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Posted by on in Family, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

April 26, 2017, Prescott-

I’ve had a good amount of time to think about the people and things that have come my way, over the past six years, especially the past month or so.  I came upon what turns out to be an intensely spiritual little community of a few dozen good friends, anchored by two remarkable couples, who I met, in their entirety, last night, while online.  The women, one in particular, showed a high level of concern for my well-being, last month, when I stopped by their coffee shop, after a long hike.  I was fine, but that level of love resonated, deep in my heart.  Maybe I’ve been on the go, and semi-independent, a bit too long, and the message is to savour connections, more than I have up to now.

There is, from my having met the rocks, the diamonds, of two large and loving families, a deeper lesson.  My travels, here and there, will continue, as will my being active in the community that serves as my home base.  There is, though, thanks to Mrs. Willa Ficarra and Mrs. Kathy Barga, a reminder that there is no real heart connection, without a sense of family.  In all my travels, with three notable single-adult friends as exceptions, it has been the families who have befriended me, who have provided the most consistent support, admonition and encouragement.

As this academic year enters its final month, I look ahead to two months of connection, and re-connection, with friends, new and old, and with my own family, in strengthening the network that will help each of us, in whatever lies ahead.

Selective, or Snooty?

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Posted by on in Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

April 24, 2017, Prescott- 

It’s no deep secret that I have issues with those who build walls of snobbery around themselves. I’ve found them everywhere, from my home town of Saugus,  to Jeju, Korea, and to my present home base of Prescott.

Usually, snobs rely on “isms”, to validate their choices.  There are those who fall back on their self-perceived intelligence, while forgetting that the late George Plimpton, and others, routinely ridiculed their insolence.  There are others, “hipsters”, who brag about their sense of aesthetics, overlooking the beauty of simplicity.  Money, status in the community, and a misperceived “racial purity” are other sources of walls. Even in small communities, and communities of colour, subgroups operate to either maintain a false sense of superiority or to ingratiate themselves with those in power.  Seventeen years ago, a woman spread filth about my family and me, in a small desert community.  She had arrived  ten years earlier, from Ohio.  Here in Prescott, another individual, an attendant at a local fitness center, turns her head, sharply and disdainfully, whenever anyone over the age of forty approaches.

I have my own sense of selectivity.  I stay clear of fast food restaurants, many chain stores, and most Big Box establishments.  There is no shortage of people who would cry “Snoot”, at this information, and perhaps they’re right.  I do not, however, treat others with disdain, based on age, physical appearance,  mannerisms,perceived intelligence level, economic status or skin pigmentation.  Even the snobs get a fair hearing.

I have made the observation that fear is behind most snobbery.  If the wall-builders would stop and take several deep breaths, perhaps they would realize that nothing of consequence would befall them, were they to open the blinds, and take off the blinders.

Weeds, and Craziness

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Posted by on in Community, Poetry, Social, Striving

April 23, 2017, Prescott-

I spent a good part of today

dealing with weeds.

The thing about weeds is

they need to be pulled out,

by the roots,

and attention needs to be paid,

to the seed pods,

much as is paid to nits,

when ridding a person,

or animal,

of lice.

I got a vote of confidence,

this afternoon,

from one of the few

living father figures,

still in my life.

He thinks, sight unseen,

that she is worth my while.

At the age of ninety-three,

though, there is much

that is seen,

through the inner eye.

I won’t drive her crazy,

that’s for sure.

At my age,

things happen at

a reasonable pace,

even in matters of the heart;

at least,

that’s how it seems to me.

Speaking of craziness,

a man with a gun

went way overboard,

engaging our city’s Finest,

for several hours.

No reports of injuries or deaths,

yet.

“Shooter in custody”,

is what we hear.

Local media is silent,

but  not social media.

Why do competing

personalities

have to

choose a time like this

to bicker

over who’s accurate?

Craziness, indeed.

 

 

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XXVI: Three Bounties

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Posted by on in Community, Service Activities, Social, Travel

April 22, 2017, Globe, AZ- This Earth Day will long be remembered, to the core of my being, if for no other reason than being welcomed by a new, and  wonderful, friend, as she and her employer were trying to get set up for their busy Saturday.

I thought SunFlour Market was open at 8, but as the owner-chef, Willa, pointed out, the shop opens at 9.  It helps to check the website.  No harm, no foul- I was given a heaping plate of  the most savoury biscuits and gravy I’ve ever had, and stayed out of their way, while set-up continued.  I will be a semi-frequent visitor to this unassuming gem, over the next few months, at least.  It may well be that I become a regular, starting in August, but that’s to be decided in a month or two.

Kathy and Willa welcome their patrons with lots of love and good cheer.  As another example, a young couple came in, for a salad breakfast.  The ladies fussed over the vegetables, for a good twenty minutes, making certain only the best  produce went onto the plates.  The husband pronounced their meal, ” Some of the best food I’ve had, in Arizona.”

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There is also a mini-Farmers Market,  Saturdays, 9-1,from October-May.  The summer market is in Globe, 23 miles, and 1,000 vertical feet, to the east.

I spent a couple of hours in Globe, as well, given that another devoted friend has recently moved to the copper-mining mecca.

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John and I went to another well above-average restaurant, The Copper Hen, for a reasonable, and well-appointed, dinner.  The fare is Mediterranean (Italian and Greek), with the hours being definitely European. (There is a 2 1/2  hour break, between lunch and dinner.)  Rooster and hen motifs abound, but this is not a chicken-oriented menu.  The beef, ham, fish and vegetarian dishes are every bit as wonderful.

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In between the two visits, I took a 1 1/2 hour drive over to Safford, an agricultural community, in the Gila River Valley.  The region was having its first ever Multicultural Festival. It was a small, but heartfelt, effort, and I certainly hope it is repeated, fo ryears to come.  I focused on two events:  A martial arts demonstration, by a dojo of local youths and a talk on African storytelling, by an Arizona State University professor.

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This mighty girl did break the slab, in three blows.

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The presentation on African storytelling clarified several peoples’ misconceptions about why many African-Americans communicate, in the manner they do.  One example is that Africans, traditionally regard timeliness as “in its time”, rather than “on time”.  Another is that the African worldview sees no dichotomy between spiritual and physical.

Below, the presenter, Dr. Akua Duku Anokye, reads a short passage from an African folktale.

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Here is a slide, explaining the gist of her talk.

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I must have some of this, in my gene pool, as doing things “in their time” means more to me than “being on time.”

 

All good days come to an end, to make way for other good days.  The sunset over Globe bore witness to that truth.

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With these bounties, I am refreshed and ready for a Sunday of yard work and around-town tasks, then a solid work week.  I will return, to Superior at least, on May 6.  Have a great day, one and all.

 

 

Conversation

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Posted by on in children, Education, Social

April 20, 2017, Prescott-

Boy:  “You’re old!”

I:  “True, that.”

Boy:  “You have no friends.”

I:  “Actually, I do.  One is very special to me.  Many others are also in my heart.”

Boy:   “No one has friends, so that’s a lie.”

I:  ” Well, I have friends.”

Boy:  “Pants on fire!”

I:  “Her name is _____”.

Boy:  “She doesn’t exist.”

I:  “She would beg to differ.”

Boy:  “People treat ME, like I don’t exist.”

I:  “You very much exist, to me.”

Boy:  “Well, no one likes you, or me.”

I:  ” That’s sad to know.”

Boss:  “Alright, you two.  Quiet in there!”

I:  Silence

Boy:  ” See what I mean.  She would rather we don’t exist.”

I:  “No.  You just need to follow rules.”

Boy:  “I’ll never follow rules, ever!”

I:  Silence

Second boss:  “_______, sit against that wall for one minute, then come out.”

Boy: (After five minutes of not sitting against the wall:  “Let me out, so I can do what the first teacher said.”

I:  “Certainly.  Go clean up your mess.”

Boy:  Goes and cleans mess.

Second boss:  “Hey!  You didn’t follow MY instruction!!”

I:  ” Look at what he’s actually doing.  Let’s choose our battles.”

Second boss: “We’ll have this conversation later.”  (Leaves room in a huff.)

Boss, to boy:  “Welcome back, _______!  Thank you for following instructions.”

I:   “Let’s follow the rest of the plan.”

Boy:  “Okay, Mr. B.  Thank you for putting up with me.”

(The above is an altered version of a tale out of school, indicating what is wrong with both the education system and the American concept of hierarchy. The biggest lie ever told is “Children should be seen and not heard.”)

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XXV: Purpose

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Posted by on in Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Poetry, Social, Striving

April 18, 2017, Prescott- 

What is the purpose of public criticism?

Is it loving admonition, or mere oneupmanship?

What is the purpose of public displays of affection?

Is it sharing one’s heart’s desire, with the world,

or rebellion against what one sees as restrictive and outmoded?

What is the purpose of road rage?

Is it an outlet for uncontrollable frustration,

or a neurotic means to power?

What is the purpose of coarse language?

Is it exercise of one’s freedom of speech,

or the lazy person’s way of off-putting others?

What is the purpose of a failure to love others?

Is it a reaction to real and imagined pressures,

or a reflection of one’s lack of love for self?