April 15, 2018, Tempe-
I felt like a fish out of water,
yesterday and today.
It’s not that
the place is awful.
It’s quite beautiful here.
It’s not that
the people are disagreeable.
Even in expressing
an alternate opinion,
my fellow Baha’is
are quite loving.
No, the problem was,
I left my do Terra supplements
at home.
These make all the difference,
in my body chemistry.
(Two hours later, in Prescott, I am back on an even keel. This is not a mistake I’ll make again!)
April 13, 2018, Chino Valley-
I attended a small gathering, this evening, in which one of the centerpiece dishes was baked carrots, wrapped in maple-glazed bacon. The dish proved ornery, and two of us settled for loving crunchy carrots with fairly crisp bacon wrap. I like my carrots raw, anyway, but these were delectable- organic and freshly-picked, from the taste of them. Since the other centerpiece was quinoa spaghetti with pomodoro sauce, no one went without a satisfying meal. This omnivore has had many wonderful repasts sans viande, and this was yet another.
On another note, I am now graced by the presence of 900 followers. That the 900th is a dear new friend, makes this milestone that much sweeter. I am keeping up with as many of your posts as my life, in toto, allows. One benefit of being so far behind (14 days, in many cases) is that I am increasing my speed reading skills.
I’ll be off to lovely, vibrant Tempe, for a two-day Baha’i conference, and will post a bit of the desert, in its Spring glory, before returning to Home Base on Sunday evening. Lovely weekend to all!
April 3, 2018, Prescott-
A friend referred to things being too crazy.
Yes, we can see it all around.
The President supports this bill.
No, wait, he’s against it.
There will be negotiations with a foe.
“Are you kidding? We can’t possibly do THAT!”
The stock market is headed for an epic crash!
Oh, well, that was yesterday.
Maybe again tomorrow, though.
“The Constitution says that mentally ill people
are entitled to possess a firearm,
for their protection.”
So much for a well-regulated militia.
Day by day,
it’s enough for me to love,
educate
and safeguard
our four charges.
It’s enough for me to serve
the Lord of the Age,
and work to unite
the human race
against the Forces of Darkness.
It’s enough for me to tend
to my own healing
and that of my community.
The craziness will run its course,
and our Sun will continue to shine.
April 1, 2018, Prescott-
Happy Easter, and Passover, one and all. I have spent much of today, fighting with my WP feed, trying to go back to those posts I missed, last flipping weekend and onward. I have hit upon keeping one window open for my Reader- and one for this side of my site.
This laptop will need to go in for repair soon. To do that, I will finally re-open my account with Geek Squad, the Best Buy Technical Support arm. This will do one of two things: Either my 7-year-old laptop will continue to support my photo posts, or it will need to be replaced. Either way, it’ll be a week before I post any photos on these pieces, as Windows File Explorer is constantly in buffering mode, which tells me my old friend is very sick.
I haven’t done much today, but then again, yesterday found me in Phoenix, walking with three other people around a neighbourhood called Sunnyslope, which is an important place in the annals of Penny’s and my last ten years together. I am glad to have helped install 13 smoke detectors, in 7 of the 25 houses we visited. 6 went in one house, alone. The most important were those placed in the bedrooms of youths.
Visiting a friend in Superior, and finding her working alone, on a Saturday afternoon, was bothersome. I stayed long enough to enjoy a nice lunch and to help her just a bit, with tidying up and offering moral support. This person is going through something similar to what I endured, with a spouse suffering debilitation. I hope her co-workers will get a grip and start pitching in more.
Today, though, I am thinking of someone, very far away, whom I have never met face to face. Something about her, though, has drawn me in. Like anything else of this nature, we’ll see.
I watched a short video about the Sumerians. It challenges conventional wisdom about our origins as a species. I have one question, though: If there are some beings that are responsible for our intelligence, and they “civilized” us, then left, why aren’t they back? Perhaps, they know better. I think I will stick with my God, and the God of us all.
My Memorial Day to Independence Day travel schedule is mapped out- Nevada, Colorado, eastward through Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ontario, Montreal, New England, Pennsylvania, down the Delmarva, Hampton Roads, across Virginia, the Carolinas and Tennessee, before an I-40 zip, back to Home Base and Prescott’s fireworks. Most of this route is to see friends and family-some of whom I have not seen in a very long time. Good Sam Parks and hostels will be well-researched and penciled in, beforehand. There will be a birthday party or two, a family wedding and a Xanga/Facebook gathering. If this sounds like a lot, it’s because it is.
In the meantime, we have a month of standardized testing at our high school, which means unusual schedules. Then, there is Graduation Month. In both April and May, I will also be occupied with Baha’i activities, to boot. I would not miss any of this, or rush through it, for all the world.
March 29, 2018, Prescott-
Bud Cort turns 70, today. He is best known for his role as the death-obsessed young suitor of a spry elderly woman, in the 1971 May-December black comedy, “Harold and Maude”.
After I moved to Prescott, following Penny’s passing, I provided transportation to out of town activities, for a long-time friend of ours, a woman my mother’s age. This led to another local acquaintance snarkily referring to us as “Harold and Maude”. There was no similarity, except in his jaundiced mind’s eye, though it ranked me a bit. Then, and now, I have no romantic interest in anyone, least of all a person many years my senior- or junior, for that matter.
Friends, I have found in all ages, shapes, sizes and walks of life. It’s always been that way. As a child, I would on occasion, visit much older men and women, and ask their views on a variety of matters. Not having the presence of my grandfathers contributed to that, perhaps, but I have always been a soul who does not identify with a specific time element. It’s been all about commonalities of interest. Young, old and in-between will remain my friends.
So, being neither “old” nor “young”, in that regard, I go on, and wish Bud Cort a most happy entry into the dignified strata of Septuagenarian-hood.
March 25, 2018, Burntwater, AZ-
Kevin Locke is an accomplished flautist, a master of the flute. He is also one of the Great Plains people who popularized the Hoop Dance, a Native American traditional dance which illustrates the oneness of Creation. A complete, properly executed, Hoop Dance will produce a sphere, representing the Earth. Kevin demonstrated this, in an afternoon presentation, after having taught several of us how to make and use a flute.
(Presently, I am unable to access my photo stock, due to a problem with File Explorer. Please bear with me on this.)
Getting back to the flute: There is a base, of either hardwood or plastic. Six sound holes, and one air hole, are drilled into top of the flute base. A couple of sound pieces are fitted together, then placed inside the base, using a light dowel. Then, an arrow-shaped fitting is tied to the top of the base, near the air hole.
Playing the flute requires a fair amount of dactyl dexterity (co-ordinated fingers), which is a challenge for someone like me, but I will practice a bit, as a means to produce a calming sound. It will be a good stress reliever.
Finally, getting back to the Hoop Dance, Kevin invited several people to join in the dance. I sat it out,as my right shoulder is being treated by a chiropractor, and I want to get this matter finished, before subjecting my faithful friend of 67 years to any more difficulty than necessary. The recovery is coming along nicely, by the way.
We ended the afternoon with a Friendship Dance, in which everyone begins holding hands in a circle, then winds their way around in a spiral, eventually shaking hands with every other person in the circle.
It was a long day, and a long drive back to Prescott, but well-worth the visit with an old friend.
March 26, 2018, Prescott-
I attended a gathering, yesterday, at the Native American Baha’i Institute, which is 4 1/2 hours’ drive from here. The occasion was an intensive flute making and playing workshop, by a long-time flautist, who is a friend. Kevin visited our home, years ago, when Penny, Aram and I lived on the Navajo Nation. His work is always worth supporting.
I will have more to say about the flute, and about the event, in my next post. Today, though, a brief word is in order about the rising of those who have been subservient.
In the mid-1990’s, my mother-in–law would insist on the Victorian dictum, regarding children maintaining silence. She would later come to regret that stance, but at the time, it was her way of keeping our son and his girl cousin in check. I disagreed, vehemently then, and do now. Children should be seen, heard, believed- and properly educated and guided.
Women have largely been relegated to a subservient role, over the centuries- across the globe. Thankfully, this nonsense started to unravel, as far back as 1965, though people like my mother have never been content to have their voices go unheard. The presence of so many strong women in my life has made such a state of affairs seem totally absurd to me, forever and a day.
When I was a senior in high school, one of the seminal events was the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., fifty years ago, next week. In my social studies and English classes, I would raise the issue of civil rights, to a largely deaf audience. My school, at that time, had five African-American students. I knew two of them, brothers, who were kept at home, the day after the senseless murder. There were hoots and hollers, expressions of satisfaction, by young men who have long since overcome their prejudice, born, as all prejudices are, by ignorance and fear. There were tears shed by more enlightened young women, who dared to date young Black men, from the next town over. My hometown is a more open-minded place, nowadays, and people are increasingly, though not completely, expanding their circles of friends.
There is a new world, a better place, rising from various ash heaps.
March 22, 2018, Prescott-
I got up well before sunrise, as usual, and went about the routine, except that coffee and breakfast waited until after my annual lab work for next Friday’s physical. I was first in line, so that was an in/out process.
I did something else, with assurance from my spirit guides. On what would have been my very frugal father’s 91st birthday, I tore up all correspondence from a sweepstakes company and tossed a few other pitches for money that I just don’t have to spare for them. Dad always honoured his commitments and his obligations, and I walk, as best I can, in his footsteps. I am assured that all else will follow, as needed.
It was another moment when I got a nice message from a good-hearted new online friend, and pondered my commitments for the rest of this month. Meditation told me, once again, that my choices are just that, my own. Nothing can really be imposed on us, except to pass on, when that day comes.
This dawn brought heavy cloud cover to us in Arizona, heavy rains to southern California and yet another heavy snowfall to the Northeast. Punxsutawney Phil is rolling on the ground, laughing, with his little trick; the groundhog lied.
March 18, 2018, Tucson-
Visiting a good friend, northwest of here, I found myself invited to a performance by a group of refugees from DR Congo and a few other African nations. So, on this rainy morning, we headed back into town and contented ourselves, in the on-again, off-again showers and chill, with greeting and making the young singers and dancers feel at home.
They showed an enthusiasm that belies their horrific experiences with the conflicts that stem from tribalism and greed. The emphasis of their messages, in both song and dance, is on unity of effort and on, thankfully, gender balance. America’s youth are not the only ones showing the way to a more equitable world. African young people are taking the Cape buffalo by the horns and setting their elders on notice, that suffering of the common folk is no longer an option of convenience.
Here are some scenes of their performances.
The songs they sang were of gratitude to the U.S., and Tucson, for welcoming them, and giving them a chance to recover from the horrors of tribal and regional conflict. These are all young people on a legal path to citizenship, having been brought here by the International Refugee Council, which hosted a “Walk A Mile In Their Shoes” event, following the performances.
It is a central tenet of Baha’i belief, to succor those fleeing from persecution and slaughter. I was proud to be hugged and called “Brother” by these amazing young men and women.
March 17, 2018, Tucson-
This is a day when all the world loves what is Irish, or at least what the world thinks is Irish. Of course, there is more to the Emerald isle than Guinness Stout and shamrocks. Corned beef is an American addition to the day.
I came here, to Arizona’s Second City, to attend the dedication of The Loop, a trail network around Tucson and its suburbs of Oro Valley and Marana. There were many festival booths, offering everything from meticulous examination of various animal tracks to fried food offerings, which I would not eat anyway, but which the Fast gave me an excuse to politely decline.
I walked about the grounds of a former Mormon settlement, called Binghampton Rural Historical Settlement, in which is found Brandi Fenton Memorial Park, dedicated to the memory of a much-loved 13-year-old girl, who was killed in a traffic accident, several years ago.
Here, I watched as 12 Mexican-American children and teens performed exquisite folk dances of their ancestral country.
After these dances were finished, I took a walk along the path above the Rillito River, currently a rather sere landscape, but be not fooled. The Rillito has wreaked havoc in the Tucson area, on several occasions, most recently in 2006.
I leave you with this thought: Baha’u’llah teaches that the positive and honourable traditions of each culture, such as the dances shown above and many musical/artistic styles, are to be preserved. Humanity needs to avoid uniformity of thought and culture, the goal being unity in diversity.
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