Category Archives: Social

The Road to 65, Mile 131: Typhoons

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April 8, 2015, Prescott-  It was cold all over the place today.  Snow was reported on the East Coast, and we shivered a bit, here in northern Arizona. North America is past being ready for warm weather.

It’s time to consider that warm weather has its price:  Storms happen, as anyone in New Orleans or Miami can attest.  Tornadoes have already swiped Oklahoma and Arkansas, this spring.  Even Dubai had a wicked dust storm, last week.

Typhoons, though, are in a league of their own.  Being cyclonic in nature is bad enough, when the storm is an Atlantic or eastern Pacific hurricane.  In the islands of the western Pacific, from Borneo and New Guinea to New Zealand, and on up to Japan, the deadliness of a Category 5 Typhoon, hitting a low-lying island community, seemingly from three directions at once, defies the imagination.  The Philippines have had two such killer storms, this year alone. Vanuatu, which used to be called New Hebrides, is slowly inching forward in recovery from a massive typhoon, a few long weeks ago.  Small countries nearby, named Kiribati and Tuvalu, also got hammered by the monster.  These are not places with an unlimited store of resilience, but they will come back from that one.

Word has reached us, this evening, of yet another Category 5.  This one is hitting Micronesia, a vast federation of atolls, stretching nearly 1,000 miles from east to west.  There was a civilization in western Micronesia, when Europe was shaking from the Dark Ages. The villagers of the  low-lying islands had much to impart to the Spanish and Dutch, who came seeking a quick route from China to the Americas, in the Sixteenth Century.

We used to have an image of Pacific Islanders, as happy, carefree dancers and singers, who were always glad to see boatloads of tourists.  There was a warrior segment, also, of course, but they got reduced to an entertainment contingent as well- savagely tattooed and grimacing, to the delight of the squealing audience.

It was never thus.  South Sea islands, to my mind, are harsh places, in terms of having enough fresh water; in terms of surviving monster waves, tides and gale-force winds; in terms of not being forgotten by the wider world.  We who are concerned with rising seas, point to places like Kiribati, Tuvalu and Nauru, in the Pacific, Anguilla in the Caribbean, and the Maldives and Seychelles, in the Indian Ocean, as victims of climate change, “in the not-to-distant future”.  This year’s experience, though, suggests that the world had better keep an eye on nature’s “dry runs”- the three Category 5 typhoons that have leveled the homes of good-hearted and long-struggling human beings.  Mankind is one, after all.

The Road to 65, Mile 130: Catharsis

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April 7, 2015, Prescott- Often, on Tuesdays, I feel a sense of foreboding or ennui.  I’m not quite sure what has brought that on.  Today, however, I felt a very strong sense of purpose.  The idea was to make the search for another vehicle front and center. So, after clearing my calendar for the day, I headed over to a lot, not far from my home.

It is a clean, well-appointed business, with a large and clean office that is brightly-lit.  There is nothing seedy about the establishment, or its owner.  I walked around and looked at a dozen or so vehicles, finding none that particularly suited my fancy- except one.  A gray Nissan Altima, the second vehicle I examined, drew me back for a second look.  There was an energy coming from this inanimate creation, if one can believe such a thing.

The remorse and sadness I have felt, over losing my Kia, has started to melt away.  I know it is all because of all the memories and the service that automobile gave me.  It’s also because I let myself down, and did not maintain my regimen of safe driving.

Seeing a vehicle that is in fine repair and has  a good maintenance record is cathartic.  I am re-energized and back on track.  The energy that seemed to take a negative turn, with the accident and the Blood Moon, has returned to an upbeat level. Later this afternoon, I did laundry.  The antagonistic people who are there earlier in the day, had left.  A young man, who was not familiar with the dryers, put too many coins in his.  As his clothes were finished, with over a dollar’s worth of time left on the machine, he asked for a refund, from the manager.  This, of course, was not possible. The kid offered me the dryer, and went to leave.  I gave him the quarters for the time that was left.  Adults do not take advantage of their juniors, or of anyone else, for that matter.

Today was Arizona Gives Day.  I did send a small amount to a Yavapai County children’s fund.  We have more youngsters suffering here than one might think.  I find them constantly on my mind.

Well, there is something about just getting up, moving past ennui and getting the big stuff done.  The cathartic effect of something as small as mailing an envelope, my first order of business today, generated energy to get the car search underway, which in turn made the rest of the day reveal random opportunities for service.  Life means rolling, ever so carefully, over the speed bumps.

The Road to 65, Mile 129: Aftermath

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April 6, 2015, Prescott-  I am off work for a few days, mainly to complete the disposition of my old vehicle, which will be greatly missed, and to tend to things, like laundry, which are no longer a routine drive down the street.  Today’s retrieval of my camping gear and other items from the Kia, and a trip to MVD for a document, had to be coordinated with friends.  This will be a “new normal” for a few days.  I have to make time to visit a dealership on Sheldon Street, tomorrow, and price/select a vehicle which I can buy with cash, then get the cash, and hopefully be back in wheels by the weekend.

Not everyone is so lucky.  My person was not badly affected by Saturday’s accident.  I have the sturdy design of the Kia to thank for that.  My high school driving instructor, the late, great Len Wall, would have been aghast at my driving, at that short point in time.  He’d have railed at me, as he did, to my ultimate benefit, on a few occasions when I was under his tutelage.  The result of his passionate instruction was forty-eight years of safe driving, with only one previous accident, which was a slide on ice and did not result in any appreciable damage.  I am determined, I will resume that record.  An AARP safe driver class will supplement the court-ordered Traffic Safety class that I will take online, over the next few days.

I have to get to work again, and thanks to a few good friends, I won’t have to turn down work, after tomorrow.  Then, too, are the various meetings and gatherings, which may be easily taken for granted, as to accessibility.  It is good to be in touch with what so many have to face, each day, without a vehicle of their own.

One other thing:  As I was walking back from downtown, this evening, I greeted a street person who was sitting forlornly on a bench.  A well-dressed man approached and offered the man a room for the night, at the nearby Hassayampa Inn, a well-appointed establishment.  There are so many fine human beings in this world, and we do well to acknowledge them, as they appear.

The Road to 65, Mile 128: Risen

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April 5, 2015, Prescott-  Easter was important to me as a child, for two reasons:  The first was that it meant the end of hearing of Christ’s suffering, which I could not understand until my teen years and the second was that there was lots of candy.  The first part bothered me because Jesus, to me, has always been the Epitome of Love. I could not see any good reason for either the chief priests’ persecution of Him, nor for Judas’ betrayal.  The second part had a relatively brief shelf life.  My parents never bought Peeps, preferring jelly beans, Jordan almonds, creme eggs and chocolate bunnies.  I outgrew all except chocolate, and occasional Jelly Bellies (during the Reagan years, especially).

Nowadays,as a Baha’i, I recognize spiritual truth as being progressively revealed, across human time.  Christ brought a focus on letting God deal with peoples’ iniquities, on overcoming tribal affiliations, on loving others in spite of their shortcomings.  He also brought the Sword of Truth, not making excuses for one’s behaviour, but challenging oneself to rise higher on the spiritual plane.

Closeness to the Light has had its place in the hearts of men for a multitude of millennia.  There have, however, been limits to awareness, and a tendency to revert to the mores and customs that pre-date a Spiritual Messenger, as soon as that Messenger has departed this earthly life.  So it was with Moses, with Krishna, with Gautama Siddhartha (Buddha), with Christ and with Mohammad.  Those outside a given religion, or with a perfunctory understanding of it, see mythology as creed, hearsay as doctrine.

When Christ was crucified, the Romans reported that He had cried out:  “My God,My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”  In fact, an examination of the Aramaic and Greek, shows an affirmation of His role as Saviour:  “My God, My God, for this I was kept”.  His Rising, then, is a spiritual act, a confirmation that the Word of God can never be silenced.  Baha’u’llah tells us as much, in The Hidden Words:  “My Light can never be extinguished.  Why dost thou dread extinction?”  The Creator does not abandon His Creation, or the creatures that comprise it.

Easter, then, is a day to be universally celebrated, a key point along the collective spiritual journey of Mankind.  Without Christ’s ultimate sacrifice, we would have no way to comprehend the Call to Nationhood, of Mohammad, or the Summons to the entire human race, of Al-Bab and of Baha’u’llah.  Without His having resurrected the despairing souls of His Disciples, by appearing to them after the Crucifixion, there would have been no Christian Faith, and the journey of mankind would have been a more immediate, and far deeper, descent into the Dark Ages than it actually was.

These are only my own measured opinions, yet no matter how much I ponder this most essential of processes, I arrive at the same conclusion I drew as a teenager:  The Spiritual Teachers are vital to our overall well-being and there is no daylight between any One of Them, in comparison to the Others.

The Road to 65, Mile 126: Fidelity

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April 3, 2015, Prescott-  In this evening’s episode of “Hawai’i Five-O”, the great Chi McBride took up the questions of both marital and fraternal fidelity.  His character, a captain on a Hawai’i State Police task force, finds himself facing the possibility that a close friend is being duplicitous, while re-affirming his own love for his wife.  The heartbreak he faces, in the first instance, makes him hauntingly vulnerable and very much in need of the second.

All my thirty years of closeness to Penny, and the years of unity with her spirit that have ensued, I have kept a fidelity, a loyalty of purpose.   I have female friends, now, whom I adore as people, and as helpers in many aspects of my life.  The time could yet come when I am in a friendship that turns romantic, but that’ll happen if it is meant to be.  My soulmate remains watchful, I know.

Today, millions of people around the world observe, commemorate and mourn the result of duplicity.  1, 982 years ago, money trumped loyalty to the Light of the World. At the same time, fear clouded the judgment of the man who would be the first Pope, and led to abandonment, however temporary.

The Paragon of Fidelity forgave His tormentors, His killers and His duplicitous friends.  Jesus the Christ set the example, to remain steadfast in the face of its opposite behaviour.  How many were the false ones who called “Lord, Lord”, in His wake, yet walked the dark path!  How many the devoted ones who gave their all for Him, Whom they loved completely!

Fidelity and duplicity are choices we each make, in matters great and small, and in all relationships, both secular and divine, both committed and casual.  Which shall be the goal, as this Good Friday draws to a close?

The Road to 65, Mile 125: Angels Among Us

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April 2, 2015, Prescott-  Yavapai County Angels is an ad hoc group, which was formed last November, to bring holiday cheer to disabled veterans and other shut-ins, in the Quad Cities (Prescott, Prescott Valley, Chino Valley, Dewey-Humboldt) and outlying areas of our county.  Thirty-nine households ended up receiving much-appreciated solace from the initial group.

This morning, with help of various sorts from 133 members, several members of YCA, including me, assembled Easter baskets for distribution to residents of a Veterans Housing facility, and several extras, to be given to homeless veterans outside that facility.  Puzzles and word search books were also brought to the Arizona Pioneer Home, a senior living facility here in town.

YCA is a grassroots group, not beholden to any creed or political agenda.  This makes it doubly attractive to me, as the mission statement, so to speak, is simply Love Thy Neighbour.  My own halo may have prongs on it, but it still feels good to have the means to make a small difference in the lives of the disadvantaged.  On this Maundy Thursday, what else is there?

The Road to 65, Mile 124: Stuff and Nonsense

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April 1, 2015, Prescott-  I spent the day with Second-Graders, enjoying the silliness of April Foolery, at the elementary level:  “Look, your shoes are untied”  So much innocence, and underlying trust that things are basically okay, fuel the basic sense of relaxed fun.

It doesn’t last, and more’s the pity.  I fielded a phone call from my landlord, who lives in another state.  He learned of my client’s lingering presence on our compound, and gently-for now- expects me to bring the situation to a close.  I gave my client two more days to move along.  My eviction is neither a joke, nor an option.

His reaction was predictable, and after finding him a motel room, in lieu of his sleeping under the stars, in a forest not far from here, I formulated a plan to keep his belongings safe, should he revert to a passive- aggressive abandonment of them.  That may well be how the situation “ends”.

That’s the thing about endings; they are usually hiatuses, breathers that are designed to give the tormented soul a chance to regroup his/her thinking, in light of a reality that is hard to comprehend.  Here’s the rub, with my client:  He was never really parented.  Raising oneself, even in the rather tame world of the 1950’s, leaves lots of gaps.  One only learns to consider others if one has a mother and/or father, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, who is modeling such relative selflessness.

So, I would find room in my storage closet outside, for the dozen or so boxes he has organized, and when he, or his adult children, show up to collect them, the stuff and nonsense that have played out over the past four months will have not caused any harm.

The Road to 65, Mile 123: Out Like A Jackalope

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March 31, 2015, Prescott-  I get a kick out of how so many groups and institutions put so much stock in the last day of a quarter year.  Ninety days is a fairly good stretch, by which to measure personal goals.   Group goals, though, being larger, are harder to quantify in such a short time.  Wall Street usually observes the end of a business quarter by indulging in huge sales of assets, as happened today.  Congress has sometimes marked the three-month point by……going on recess!  Schools don’t care so much, as their academic quarters don’t mesh with the business cycle.

The old saw about this month that is now ending is “In like a lion, out like a lamb.”  Here in Arizona, it seems March is ending like a jackalope- the legendary creature that is half rabbit, half pronghorn.  People are a bit skittish, and many aren’t paying attention to their surroundings.  The jackalope is confused as to which direction it should take, and so are many people I am encountering around here today.

I am pointing my client, whose belongings are taking up my entire patio, towards a storage unit- with tomorrow afternoon or Thursday P.M. as a goal for getting everything over there.  I am pointing myself towards a solid workday tomorrow (no joke) and a morning of service towards disabled veterans on Thursday.  Good Friday, though I don’t observe Christian liturgy, remains a solemn day, which honours the life of one of the Lights of the World.

It’s easy to get confused, this time of year.  Weather is, by turns, wintry, springlike or hot.  Snow may fall, even here, and be gone by 10 A.M.  Kids get test-burnout, as this is the time to perform on tests, to satisfy the politicians. The rest of us may focus on the secular aspects of Easter, which to me is one of the loveliest of Christian Holy Days, and concern ourselves more with blood-sugar levels, and artistry on an egg shell.  Then, there is the Full Moon, which greets us on the first day of Passover, also a lovely Holy Day.

Stay loose, as my Dad used to say, and be kind to one another on All Fools’ Day.  More about that, tomorrow of course.

The Road to 65, Mile 122: The Lifeboat Exercise

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March 30, 2015, Prescott-   My job today involved guiding five classes of Eighth Graders through choosing seven people, out of a possible twelve, to hole up in a bomb shelter, following a hypothetical nuclear holocaust.  This is the culmination of their study of the Cold War Era.

It is, as many will have guessed, a variation on the Lifeboat activity, which many of us have done, in Psychology 101 or as an icebreaker at a business convention.  One gets to play God, or at least presume to advise the Supreme Being.

The students took this responsibility very seriously, and with the re-population of Planet Earth in the balance, being young and highly intelligent worked to the hypothetical survivors’ advantage.   The lone hexagenarian was left out in the Nuclear Winter.  Then again, a nineteen-year-old, of average intelligence, was also culled from the sack.

Each of us does the lifeboat exercise on a regular basis.  We let some people get close to us, and others, try as they might, are kept at arm’s length.  It is human nature, though thankfully such selectivity does not result in harm or death on a regular basis.  Most people who are cut out of one situation find that, as that door closes, another opens.

When I was growing up, and throughout my twenties, I learned to stay flexible and to circulate widely, so as not to depend to excess on any one person or group.  Thus, my love of travel became more than just a means to joie de vivre.  It was a path to survival.  After nearly thirty years of marriage, I learned calmness and patience, in place.  In widowhood, life is more of a mix.  While I will not let myself be either cast out of the lifeboat or shackled within it, the safe haven is a fine place to have close by.

The Road to 65, Mile 121: Getting In Tune

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Personal goals, Social, Travel

March 29, 2015, Jerome- After a difficult morning, largely due to my dealing with a few internal conflicts, I headed to this mountainside former mining town-turned-tourist mecca.  Jerome, as a whole, and my chosen lunch spot, Haunted Hamburger ( a bar and grill), are not the sorts of places one goes for emotional support.  Those who live here are a tough breed, so the affirmation I got from the wait staff was- “Yep, tough it out” .  I chose that route, anyway, so I found the meal enjoyable and left right after eating, as the place was way full of tourists- another reason the locals tend to be short, in the listening department.

Driving back up Mingus Mountain, I decided to explore the north peak of the mountain a bit.  A four-mile round trip hike along Woodchute Trail was what really restored my equilibrium.

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A restoration project, Powerline Meadow, is found at the beginning of the trail,just east of the road that makes up the first half-mile of the route.  Livestock and vehicular traffic are banned.

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About a half-mile further, I met a couple and their two children, with an eight-week-old puppy, who had walked with them to the nearby ridge, from which there are exquisite views of Sycamore Canyon, to the northeast.

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I wonder how much the little dog saw.  Nature seems to like togetherness, at any rate.

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I know what I always enjoy seeing, besides the greenery.

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I also find, when my chemical imbalance gets in my way, as it did once yesterday and a bit this morning, is taking a few drops of a soothing essential oil, and rub it on my neck or forehead.  The return to equilibrium is almost immediate.  It is a blend of frankincense, patchouli, Roman chamomile, sandalwood and lime oils.  I find that, the more severe the zoning-out or disconnect, the faster the blend works to bring me back to where I need to be.  I don’t mind sharing this here, as anyone else who is autistic, or someone who has OCD, panic attacks, or even mild schizophrenia, can benefit from applying this oil blend. As with our other products, there are no side effects and it does not counteract medication.

Now that day is done, I feel like, between “Haunted Hamburger’s” get-with-the-program tough love, my walk in the woods and the doses of this blend, I am ready for a busy and successful week.