Not Invincible

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March 20, 2026- Chuck Norris died today, the last day of winter taking one of the last Winter Soldiers. He was a lot more politically conservative than I am- I think the last Presidential candidate we both supported was Ronald Reagan-and for different reasons. I thought the Great Communicator was a man of character (until Iran-Contra). Chuck said he liked the aura of machismo. Years ago, I was told, by two different groups of young men, that I looked like Chuck. The first group, of Navajo adolescents, would approach me by getting into martial arts stances-only joking, of course. The second, a trio of young Black men, on a bus going to Buffalo, said I could go around spouting lines from his movies, and some people would do a double take. No one really close to me, though, has ever recognized a likeness.

I never met Chuck Norris, but I watched “The Way of the Dragon” and many of the “Walker, Texas Ranger” episodes. I also got a kick out of the Chuck Norris jokes, even doing a spoof on Xanga: “Chuck Norris vs. The Most Interesting Man in the World”. (The latter was a character on a Dos Equis beer commercial, who was played by Jonathan Goldsmith). I believe one of the lines was “Chuck Norris yawns at the Most Interesting Man, who doesn’t dare yawn back.”

It is at times tempting to take solace in the exploits of a supremely masculine figure-but eventually, the He-Men pass from the scene, as Chuck Norris did today. When I was a kid, I was in awe of Charles Atlas and Jack LaLanne. Charles (nee Angelo Siciliano) was a body builder, well before the heyday of Arnold Schwarzenegger. He lived to be 80, then died of a heart attack. Jack was a diet and exercise guru and lived to be 96, then died of pneumonia, after refusing to see a doctor. In the 1960s, the two were seen as invincible-Jack even said he “could never die, because it’d ruin my image.”

So it goes, and it is equally true of those public figures who seem invincible in their own right. They will come to a reckoning, like you and I and everyone in between. It’ll shock some of their admirers, but as Chuck would say; “You become what you choose.”

Re-assessing and renaming

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March 19,2026- I propose, as some others already have, renaming the commemorative, unofficial holiday known as Cesar Chaves Day, National Farmworkers Day. Juneteenth is, rightfully, a Federal holiday; so should there be a day to honour all farmworkers. How many of us chowhounds would willingly pick potatoes and carrots all day long? How many would work the fields picking melons and strawberries? Even emptying trees of citrus fruit, apple, peaches and pears is backbreaking work!

A social justice movement is far more than the one or two who are its public face. I prefer to call the January holiday that has been focused on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Civil Rights Day. As much admiration and respect as I have for Dr. King, he himself would have been the first to say he was not a perfect individual. He had his lusts and pitfalls, though he has never been accused of such atrocities as those or which his contemporary, Cesar Chavez, has been posthumously charged.

The revelations documented in the New York Times illustrate the folly of adulation. Small children idolize their parents and grandparents. As they get older, they learn of their elders’ imperfections. Hopefully, they continue to love those elders, but they will know that they are not amidst living saints.Along those lines, we were wise, as a nation, to recast George Washington’s Birthday as Presidents Day- honouring at least those whose terms in office added luster to the nation’s history and offering a fair assessment of those whose terms did not.

Cesar Chavez apparently gave in to the worst elements of the culture in which he was raised, compounded by the bright lights and hero’s welcomes he received. It will be a step forward, for any future leaders, to transcend the impulse of feeling that there are lesser human beings, who owe them favours for what they have achieved.

There are no lesser human beings.

Bloodlines

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March 17, 2026- Today being St. Patrick’s Day, my thoughts go to the Irish heritage on both my mother’s and father’s sides. The Kusches, who hailed from Szcezcin, Poland, back when it was Stettin, Pomerania, ended up in St; Louis and Chicago, by the mid-19th Century. Papa Kusch journeyed east, as a young man, and became a shoemaker in Boston, and a small farmer in Saugus. Before they were Kusches, though, they were Cooks-in the area around Wexford, Ireland. Poverty, and the Hanseatic League’s allure, brought them to the Baltic shores. The family was proud of having been prosperous in Germany, and in the Midwest, and I heard little about our Irish roots, but I always felt a draw to the Emerald Isle. Mom had me pledge to look into her side of the family, when we talked of the genealogy that my Dad’s older brother had compiled. I thought that meant going to Pomerania, but last summer’s visit to Wexford, and nearby Rosslare, brief as it was, introduced me to a few people who looked strikingly like my mother and aunts. I later learned their family name was Cook. Part of me wants to go back and spend more time there, but that will need to wait.

My granddaughter will have far taller order, should she ever want to check out her roots. Half of her bloodline is Korean, and there are probably some Chinese ancestors. going way back. The other half is Heinz 57: German, English, Irish, French, Penobscot, Jewish, Lithuanian, Romanian, and Scottish. Her present and near term well-being, though, has me refocusing my energies. The journeys I undertake in the foreseeable future are all along the paths of introducing a little soul to the wider world.

That brings me to a separate point. There was once, at a Baha’i-sponsored conference in Florida, a zone set aside for protesters. Neo-Nazis and Black Separatists found themselves next to one another, in that small zone. There are, on both the Far Right and Far Left, those who today preach the credo of division. The truth about human relations is “whatever we say it is”, and any who call for reconciliation between ethnic groups or “racial” entities are accused of clinging to outmoded, discarded concepts. I beg to differ: It is the very divisions to which they cling that are outmoded, counterproductive and dangerous. Clothing them in academic jargon, or using tones of ridicule, do nothing to bring a longed-for peace. I have to wonder if peace is even what they want- or is conflict more alluring?

Regardless, as Hana and others of her generation show, bloodlines are no respecters of truly outmoded ideologies.

Balloon Game

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March 12, 2026- Spending time with an infant is not just feeding, changing diapers and being close by while the baby sleeps. There are developmental skills to be nurtured and a bond to be established.

Hana likes a new game, where two differently coloured balloons on strings are tied loosely to her ankles. Each balloon is anchored by a magnetic clothespin. As she lies on her back, she can make the balloons bob up and down, by the kicking motion that comes naturally to a newborn. She is fascinated by the movement of the balloons and by the fact that she has control over how high or low they go. She is also showing coordination between her two legs. To her, though, the best part is looking over and seeing that either her mother or I is lying by her side on the mat, enjoying the activity as much as as she is. Having her face light up is worth everything.

She is also fascinated by lights, staring at the chandelier or at the “on”light of a humidifier. Tree branches waving in the breeze draw her attention as well. This little girl knows no boredom, and I hope it long stays that way.

Each of us needs a balloon game, to develop skill and keep us occupied for a reasonable period of time.Each of us also needs to know that someone recognizes what we’re doing, and hopefully shares in the joy we feel while doing it.

No Fakery

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March 10, 2026- The grainy images float across the computer screen, showing clearly spliced images of Donald Trump with Jeffrey Epstein and some of the other principals-victims and perpetrators alike. It is a faked video.

I am no fan of any of the people named in the released documents-be they Republican, Democratic or members of the Galactic Goo Party. In my book, if you hurt another human being, especially for your own satisfaction, the full force of the law should be yours to face. That goes double for those who hurt minor children.

That said, I question whether the released video is even from Iran. The images remind me of the hokey porno films that some of my friends showed, on thankfully rare occasions, back in the late 1960s. I was not impressed then, and I am sickened now. Who, exactly, put this thing out is quite debatable.It is plausible that it was put together in a western Asian locale (I refuse to call the region “The Middle East”. That is an old school, colonialist term.) It could also very well be just another double reverse attempt by the guilty to obfuscate and distract.

Regardless, I hope those who have come this far, in pushing towards justice for the victims of Epstein & Company, are neither distracted or fooled by today’s “video release”. Stick to perusing the documented evidence!

International Women’s Day

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March 8, 2026- I had the best of intentions, ordering a lox and tomato bagel for my daughter-in-law , for International Women’s Day, especially as it was part of the local bagel shop’s fundraiser for prevention of violence against women and girls. Saved By The Bagel is a take-off on a popular 1980s sitcom, “Saved by the Bell”. Yunhee is on a dairy-free diet, for Hana’s sake, until mid-April. I forgot that bagel shops almost always add a shmear (cream cheese), so when I got the sandwich home, she contented herself with the tomato, onion and lettuce on the part of the bagel that had no shmear. She said she also doesn’t eat lox. It meant more to her that I honestly loved the beef stew she had made, three days ago. I had four bowls of it, two on the night it was made. I also spent the afternoon with Hana, so that Yunhee could have a few hours to go shopping for items she wanted, or the house needed.

One of those items was an electric chainsaw. She got a deal on it, and proudly presented it to me, knowing that I wanted to tend to the bough that was 80% severed from the oak tree in the front yard. I got the chain on the wand, but had to consult my neighbour on the corner, as to the finer points of tightening the chain. This led to his coming down to the yard and essentially cutting the bough and its branches, as the saw is one of his favourite tools. His son-in-law was along, to help me keep the ground around him free on fallen branches. There is nothing more dangerous than someone who gets carried away with a power tool. We three managed to get the job done in less than an hour. I offered them the better pieces of cut wood, but they declined. I got in my exercise by moving the debris to the back, by the alley, where I will cut the longer branches down to smaller units tomorrow.

That part had nothing to do with IWD, other than getting the men out of the house. International Women’s Day is never about men giving things. It is more about women empowering themselves. The notion that female humans are inherently worthwhile, and don’t need men to complete them, is oddly enough, only fairly recently a widespread concept. There have always been women who have stood on their own two feet, for life. Some have married; others just forged their own successful paths. Some have raised children; others found fostering animals more fulfilling; still others found the nurturing of ideas and creating products more to their liking.

On this International Women’s Day, I recall the lives of my grandmothers, who raised twenty children, between them; of my mother, who raised five of us and was the glue for her extended family; of my sister, who remains a matriarchal figure for her children and grandchildren; of my late wife, who earned three Master’s Degrees, the last while in declining health. There are women whose memorials I have visited: Civil Rights icons-Coretta Scott King, Fannie Lou Hamer, Nina Simone; Holocaust victim Hana Reiner, and astrophysicist Eleanor “Glo” Helin, whose asteroid research is celebrated at her place of work, Palomar Mountain. There are the women friends who work wonders, every single day, in fields from astrology to auto mechanics to home renovation.

Mostly, though, I look ahead, to all that my daughter-in-law has left to achieve and to all that my granddaughter can choose. My grandnieces, likewise, have an infinite realm of possibilities in front of them, because of the work that their mothers and grandmothers have put into having their strengths, ideas and dreams recognized and appreciated.

We’re all better off because of what women have done.

Small Havoc

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March 7, 2026- A heavy rain fell, and there was a fair amount of thunder and lightning, into the mid-morning hours. A branch of one of our trees is partially severed from the main trunk and is now partially covering our front sidewalk. That gives me something to work on tomorrow, when the weather is expected to be nicer. My goal is to at least clear the sidewalk. Working from the outermost edge towards the thick part of the branch, I should be able to get a fair amount of the debris cleared and hauled back to the alley. The larger part of the branch will take a bit longer to clear. Son won’t be back for another two weeks, so I will carefully get what I can done rather than leaving it all for him.

There was a warning of possible tornadoes last night, but none materialized this far south. Our safe zone is a windowless bathroom on the first floor. Strangely, there is no community shelter, but there are plenty of “tornado shelter companies” willing to sell shelters to individual families. I guess the idea that this is an individual endeavour strikes me as odd. The only times that I have been near a tornado, in Missouri and in Ohio, there was an active effort at getting people together in community shelters. Fortunately, we were spared, this time. My condolences to those people in eastern Oklahoma and southeast Michigan who were not so fortunate.

Every part of the world has its drawbacks, either in terms of natural phenomena or of being in the crosshairs of some conflict. There are always innocent victims, in any event. My job now is making sure that my granddaughter isn’t one of them. Not everyone thinks I have her best interests at heart. I guess they will just have to find out. Suffice it to say that no one will hurt her, as long as I am of sound mind and body.

First Laugh

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March 6, 2026- Hana laughed just before her mother and I had lunch, this noon. It marked the first time either of us had witnessed her chuckling. She is very happy, when we bring her to the bouncy chair at our mealtimes. The sense of being included has already been integrated in her 2 1/2 month old mind. It is a tradition of sorts- Penny and I always had Aram with us at breakfast and dinner. (I didn’t always get back for lunch, but when I did, he was with us then, also.) I initiated having her at table for dinner, and her parents were quick to affirm.

She chuckled periodically, throughout the day-and as I fed her a nightcap bottle, she was thinking about something funny and let the amusement process, laughing quietly before starting to take her nourishment. As the days roll by and she has more experiences in her memory, I fully expect she will find something to joyfully recall. When she develops language, I’m sure she will share them with us.

Dineh people have a tradition, where the first person to make a baby laugh gets to throw a laughing party for the family. I did so once, for a little boy who is now 39 years of age. In Korean tradition, a baby is honoured on the 100th day after birth. Aram, as we were living in Jeju, Korea in the days of his babyhood, was given a 100 Day Party and wore a hanbok, the garb of a baby on the hundredth day. He was also given a tiny ring, which we probably still have in the jewelry box.

Hana will have a hundredth day party. We will also honour her laughter, as well as any other milestones she passes before then. She is likely to have several things to “say” about this. Her cooing and babbling are quite frequent now. We engage her in conversation, to encourage these.

Fifteen Years

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March 5, 2026- It was a mild, crisp Saturday morning, when I got the call that I had been expecting, since having woken to a heavy presence in the bedroom that Penny and I had shared for nearly twenty-nine years. I was told that I didn’t have long to get to the Hospice, if I wanted to “exercise the option” of being with her when she passed. I had not taken the spare room that the Hospice provided to those who were expecting a loved one’s imminent passing. because we lived thirty minutes away and a gentleman from Nashville was present, waiting for his mother’s demise.-

This was a case of trusting the Universe to arrange everything nicely. As it happened, the entrance ramp that would have gotten Aram and me there on time, was blocked. The detour added an extra ten minutes to our drive and we arrived, on a still morning, to be greeted by a slow spiral of leaves and dust, swirling near the door. Three minutes had gone by since Penny’s departure, so quiet that the nurse, who had checked her ten minutes earlier, was taken aback. Still warm to the touch, eyes still open, I know that my beloved would have preferred to wait, but it was not to be.

My task, in the years that have gone by, has been to make a concerted effort to live a far better life. It took a few more years, after that day, to vanquish my demons and accomplish most of what we had planned to do together. Here I sit in a comfortable open office, in our family’s home, looking at our infant granddaughter, via a monitor. She is asleep in her crib, with plenty of room, on a soft but firm pad. Helping to raise her will be my lasting gift to the wife who sacrificed everything to help me turn my life around.

It’s been a long process, but I really think I’m there, at long last.

The Last Income Tax

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March 4, 2026- I filed my 2025 Tax Returns this evening. Both Federal and Arizona (for the last time) income tax information was reported. At the end, I realized that I am truly retired. I may not have any income to report, come next February or March. My responsibilities have shifted to family (my grandchild) and occasional community service, until such time as said granddaughter (and any sibling she might have) has reached school age.

As my chiropractor reminds me, this does not reflect on my remaining longevity. If anything, the need of the child(ren) to have a healthy, clear-headed grandparent nearby is a mandate to keep on with my diet and exercise regimen. An active lifestyle is taking time to re-build here, and is a bit different in an urban, prairie environment, as opposed to the high desert and mountains of central Arizona. It will happen, though.

I have to thank Arizona’s schools for all the day-to-day skills that will come in handy, in any support role that I have in Hana’s education. It has actually already started, with portions of each day devoted to building her physical and sensory skills. She likes to practice standing, and can hold her head up fro about a minute, while on her belly. I realize this is a bit ahead of most people’s developmental schedules. Hana is not most people, though, and is already propelling herself towards objects that catch her interest. Here parents and I will not push her to do more than she is already inclined to do.

I don’t think we’ll have to.