Category Archives: Spiritual

Eastbound and Back, Day 8: The Coast Cleared

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, Historical, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 6, 2024, Calais, ME- At the roundabout, turning off towards Boothbay Harbor, I found myself waiting for a street sweeper in what was little more than a Bobcat, heading across the first exit and headed southbound, which I was also doing. Fortunately, he next turned right, towards the Post Office, and I was on track to be punctual.

I got to the rendezvous point that I thought was right-Dunkin’Donuts, on the south end of Wells. Turns out, there is another Dunkin’, more in the center of town. The still-recognizable figure from my childhood got my text and came to where I was, three minutes later.


The clouds that had hung on earlier started clearing, as we bantered for the next ninety minutes, giving a good many caffeinating residents of Wells and environs a bit more about growing up in Saugus, in the ’50s and ’60s than they may have ever anticipated. A Frenchman and an Italian get going on stuff from the past, and who knows what will be divulged. I may stop on the way back, and catch his piano magic.

Catharsis just happens, though both of us did our best to not give TMI. It was time to move on, around 11, which gave me just enough time to go up the coast towards Boothbay Harbor, where a cousin and his wife were waiting for our annual, or biennial, meeting. Stopping at Wilbur’s of Maine, for gift items, took five minutes and the minor wait for the street sweeper took another five. I was at their house at exactly 11 a.m. Why that is suddenly so important, as I write this, is a mystery. Maybe I am just compensating for some time in the distant past, when I let people down, due to dawdling. At any rate, it didn’t matter at all to my hosts. Our conversation, over lunch, was centered on our Irish paternal great-grandmother’s proactivity, in purchasing what would become the Boivin family home, for over 100 years. So many gatherings took place, in the three storeys of that house, in the backyard, up the street at another aunt & uncle’s house and two blocks north, at another uncle & aunt’s house. Then, there were the pool tournaments, at Frank’s Bar & Grill, across the main street from Perley.

I left the cousins behind, with a promise to return, later this month. The sky was alternately foggy (inland) and clear (along the coast). I found relatively scant traffic, which was not surprising as it’s still fairly early in May. Many cabins and seasonal restaurants are still closed, awaiting Memorial Day. It also being a Monday, several others were taking their weekly day off. Joe’s Diner, just shy of the Canadian border, was open, for a modest plate of spaghetti, and a generous helping of meatballs. International Motel, a riverside establishment, has provided me with another comfortable place for a fine night’s rest.

Tomorrow will see a return visit to the Gallant family’s North American entry point: Shediac, NB. It was there that my paternal grandmother’s father’s forebears brought their roofing skills to bear among the Basque and Breton fisherfolk of 17th Century New Brunswick.

Eastbound and Back, Day 7: Affirmation

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 5, 2024, Wells, ME- Lakeside Inn is one of those establishments that we used to call a Supper Club, in the ’60s. It still has that ambiance, though with modern, well-appointed rooms that simply lack refrigerators and microwave ovens, because, in the view of a proper hotel that is attached to a Supper Club, in-room food preparation is simply gauche. It also features special weekend concerts, which of course have another ’60s staple: A cover charge. As I was otherwise engaged last night, I passed up the throwback.

Lakeside Inn sits on the west side of Lake Quannapowitt, Wakefield’s anchor and a draw for tourists and locals alike. On the way out this morning, I took a couple of west side views

The main part of the day, though, was at Mom’s. Today, she mainly wanted to sit by the window, in the dining room. It was a Massachusetts version of May Gray, and unlike in southern California, the gray lasted all day. Still, she felt elevated, just a bit, by the bright flowers on the patio, just outside the window. She also noted the hummingbird feeder, set on a table on the patio. She was more her old self. Naps came and went, during the course of the afternoon. I even took one myself, while she nodded off, for about ten minutes.

She and I talked of my impressions of my siblings-all positive and of how I was facing life-with clear vision. She expressed amazement at what she saw as my “stamina”. I guess being in my early 70s is seen as an impediment of some kind-but I think when she was this age, she was still fairly robust. At any rate, she thinks I’m doing well. The visit lasted five hours, ending with her admonishing me, several times, to “be ready for tomorrow. Have food for tomorrow. Don’t eat junk!” Mothers never abandon their job.

I drove up to this comely beach town, nestled between York and Kennebunk, with a plan to re-connect with an old school friend and then to go on to a cousin’s house, in Boothbay Harbor, on the other side of Portland. Right now, though, I am nestled, myself, in a cozy room, in N’er Beach Motel, safe from the rain and chilly air. All that’s missing is a fireplace. I still feel affirmed.

Above is the house where my grandmother finished the job of raising nine children, Mom included, on her own after losing Papa, in the midst of the Great Depression. I have many fond memories of that house. It was fun to show the picture to Mom this afternoon.

Eastward Bound and Back, Day 6: Tenuous

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 4, 2024, Wakefield, MA- Mom is in stable condition, though her speech is slower. She still has a firm grip and was glad to see me standing at her side, in the dining room of her upstairs wing. My brother and sister-in-law came in, after a bit, and we whiled away the afternoon, watching a golf tournament-still among her favourites.

Driving out from Shelburne Falls reminded me of the drive that I made, between Amherst and Saugus, in my university days. It also, towards its mid-section, reminded me of the days when we would bundle into the car and go furniture shopping, in the small town of Templeton- a premier place for home furnishings, even today. We would invariably end up at Twin Tree Cafe, a family restaurant, owned by “Uncle” Pete Carbone, in Maynard, about forty minutes further east. The Concord Rotary, which used to be a typical Northeast free-for-all, is now regulated with YIELD signs, that temper impatient Massachusetts drivers, somewhat. I didn’t hear a honked horn behind me, until much later today-but that’s a minor detail. The drive up I-95, with moderate slowing at the major interchanges, was not bad at all.

I was glad to get together, this evening, with my siblings and two of their spouses- along with a nephew whom I hadn’t seen in six years. This was a night for a fried clam & onion rings fix, which happens once or twice a year, at best, and can only be done properly in New England-just as crab cakes are best enjoyed in the Chesapeake region, or salmon is best, when in the Northwest. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Our banter this evening reminded me that next to oneself, a person’s harshest critics can be siblings-but so are one’s strongest supporters. It all boils down to the level of caring-which cuts both ways, and is never tenuous, no matter how fleeting our presence is in one another’s lives. As Mom remains on a comfortable plateau, we will take our turns, holding her hands and assuaging her fears, as best we can. In the end, we will honour her by staying close.

Eastbound and Back, Day 5: Adventures in a State of Flux

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 3, 2024, Shelburne Falls, MA- Three of us wound up and down the curves and dips of State Highway 2, going along the slopes of Mount Greylock, this state’s highest peak, and its neighbouring ridges. I once hiked up the mountain, and camped there overnight, waking to the cheerful sound of four prom-goers, on the morning after their big event. The kids from nearby Poesten Kill, NY, were curious about my experiences-the girls wondering why I was up there alone. Why was I shy? Where was my girfriend? (I had no one in my life, at that moment, in 1975.) Such is the exuberance of people in the bubble of one of the finest times in anyone’s life: The senior year of high school.

The lead vehicle’s driver chose to keep us other two drivers set at 25-40 mph, fine for the bulk of the drive’s curves and double-yellow lines, at least for me. The guy in the middle, though, had enough of the double yellow, and of the lead driver’s caution, and so pulled out and around, double yellow be durned. It was not his time to go, fortunately, and since it definitely was not my time, either, I stayed behind the lead driver-until I came upon Red Rose Motel, here in this lovely little village, in the Berkshires, north of Amherst. By this time, another antsy driver was behind me, following a tad too close, but as luck would have it, there was a large pull-off area, half a mile further, where I was able to ditch the tailgater, and make a U-turn, getting back to this quiet haven.

My principle concern, for the past week, has been the state of my mother’s health. She is stable, mind you, and will hopefully be in good spirits, when at least two of her four children are in her room, tomorrow afternoon, and a good part of Sunday. What happens next week will depend entirely on what I find, when I get to her side. There is, at present, a Plan A, largely already scheduled, that will take me up through Maine and New Brunswick, to the Eskasoni area of Cape Breton and on to Newfoundland/St. Pierre & Miquelon, for two weeks or so, but we’ll see what lies in store.

Today was a rather quiet drive, lovely but uneventful. It was an introduction to the windingness of the upper Susquehanna, from Lock Haven, PA to the Chemung region of New York’s Southern Tier. There is much beauty on both sides of the bi-state area, but as I have hinted earlier, this is not a photo-intensive experience, unless and until I get up to Canada. There were few stops today. After leaving the Motel 6, in Clarion, a small snack stop at a Sheetz, in Mansfield, PA and a couple of rest areas along the Southern Tier were my only breaks. Plaza Diner, a pleasant little establishment, on the east side of Oneonta, was my dinner break-with two tasty, ample crab cakes and a full plate from the salad bar, accompanied by creamy but nondescript macaroni and cheese. The place was convivial, and I would stop there again, if I find myself in Oneonta. Albany and Troy, further along were both bustling and lively, on the Friday night, but I kept going. It seems that, with colleges and universities prepping for graduation, there was no room at the inns. (Once I got here, to Red Rose, my host, Aldo, said it was like that all over Amherst, as well. I got a nice room, at a discounted rate, so no matter.)

It will be good to be back with family for a bit, no matter the circumstances. Mother has raised and treated us well.

Eastbound and Back, Day 4: Making the Time

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 2, 2024, Clarion, PA- The housekeeper rapped on the door, ever so lightly. “Mister, it is time. You must check out!” Yes, it was indeed 11 a.m., and she probably had fifteen rooms to clean, in four hours, or something along those lines. I did want to get going, as well, so the last post I was writing, before this one, was set aside, until I could get to a coffee house, in downtown Goshen, and everything was put carefully in the right bags and brought to Sportage- in three minutes’ time. The Super 8 was in good repair and she gave me a clean room, last night, so I’ll not quibble.

As I drove along Main Street, Goshen, looking for a parking spot-Voila, there it was, on the other side of the street-and right in front of the recommended coffee house. As I signaled a left turn, into the space went the oncoming vehicle. Hmmm- no sense getting annoyed, so I turned left onto the next side street-and, there was Electric Brew, which bills itself as “Goshen’s original coffee house”. I found a spot, right in front of it, so grace given was grace returned. I don’t know about the other place, but Electric Brew is an excellent coffee house/deli, with a most congenial and helpful team of baristas and servers. I was able to easily finish and post about the Twelfth Day of Ridvan.

The day continued, into and across Ohio, with plenty of opportunities to make people feel seen and heard. Mostly, it was a matter of holding doors open for those coming through, or coming in behind me. I thrive on not being anonymous or invisible, so I am sure other people are largely the same.

There wasn’t much else going on, in this very familiar portion of the trip, but I changed the route just a little-going on I-80, in stead of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. That led me to another Motel 6, this one a bit more upscale, in amenities, though not in price. I had the pleasure of dining at Cozumel Authentic Mexican Restaurant-and found it as good as many such places in the Southwest. It isn’t often that Motel 6 even has an eatery in the same building-but there we are. The room I scored is huge-spare, but with a fine bed, and HUGE.

I find it always pays to make the time for doing things carefully-big or small.

Eastbound and Back, Day 3: “When the Stars Begin to Fall”

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, service, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 1, 2024, Goshen, IN- With those words, from the immortal gospel song, George, the Director of the Welcome Center at the Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, Illinois sent our spirits soaring. What a glorious morning it had already been, on as afternoon progressed, I was delighted to join the the celebration of the Twelfth Day of Ridvan, commemorating the day, in 1863m when Baha’u’llah and His entourage left the Garden of Ridvan, outside Baghdad, and began the long journey to what is now Istanbul.

I was a bit under-dressed for this occasion, yet the message on my tee was proper: “Created noble”. We all are, don’t you know. I was honoured to be able to convey gratitude to George, after the ceremony, as refreshments were served in Foundation Hall, under the glorious auditorium, where prayers are said aloud on special occasions, such as this, but are mostly offered in silence, by members of all Faiths- and positive thoughts by those of no Faith. I was delighted as well to meet, in person, the distinguished long-time Choral Director of the House, Van Gilmer, whose music has enkindled so many of our spirits, over the past five decades.

This is a phone camera-only journey, my digital camera being given a rest, in advance of a heavy schedule, the rest of this year. So, here are a few scenes of the “Mother Temple of the West”, as ‘Abdu’l-Baha described it, accompanied by scenes of Wilmette’s majestic Gillson Park, which neighbours the House grounds, and of beloved Lake Michigan.

Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL

Lilacs in bloom, west garden of the Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL

Wallace Bowl, the amphitheater of Gillson Parl, Wilmette

Lake Michigan, from Gillson Park.

The Baha’i House of Worship, from Wilmette Harbor

So proceeded a glorious day. I felt a bit of disconnect, between my physical state and consciousness- though thankfully not quite on the order described by the author. Salman Rushdie, following his having been attacked by a young man during a ceremony he was attending, a few years back. I felt, all day, as if I was moving in a different realm, while being fully aware of, and connected with, those around me.

Nonetheless, I was able to render some service, during the visit, to guests who were at the Temple for the first time, and to convey thanks and appreciation to George and Van, for the excellent program. After leaving the sacred site, I found traffic along I-94 southbound, relatively light. It took about 45 minutes to get from the Dempster turnoff to the Ohio Street exit. After the I-55 interchange, things lightened up even more and there was virtually no one using the Skyway.

It was a tired, but happy, Schroeder family who greeted me for a short dinner respite and some catching up, from my last visit. Things were bustling and chaotic, for Val and Sparky, so I did not stay long, once dinner was done. I was also dragging a bit, by then, so the choice was made to settle into the Super 8, in this fine community, about an hour southeast of Mishawaka. Other friends here are also indisposed, so it will be on to Ohio and Pennsylvania, tomorrow afternoon. I am sorry to have to pass up Indianapolis this time, as well, yet it is critical to be where Mom is, by Saturday.

Let’s close, for now, with this rendition of “When The Stars Begin to Fall”, by the ’60s inspirational group, The Seekers.

Eastward Bound and Back, Day 2: To Chicago, Sensibly

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 30, 2024, Glenview, IL- The traffic to this small blue-collar suburb of the Windy City was mercifully light and free-flowing. Yes, it is a Tuesday night, and well-past rush hour, but no matter. In years past, I have simply jumped into the scrum that congregates at the confluence of I-55 and I-94, and threaded the needle, until we all flowed, mile by mile, to our destinations: Some, to the Loop; others to Wrigleyville, Navy Pier, whatever memorials may exist to Studs Terkel and Mike Royko and I, to the Baha’i House of Worship, in Wilmette. Tonight, though, with money in my E-Z Pass till, I took the I-294.

The day began in Miami, Oklahoma. After a deep sleep and hot shower, at Deluxe Inn, a short drive through the remaining sliver of northeast Oklahoma brought me into Missouri. Gassing up, at a Kum n’Go, I saw EMTs and police responding to a crash involving a motorcyclist. The cashier said that intersection was particularly bad, for such accidents. Ironically, it is just up the road from a major motorcycle service center/biker hangout-and across Highway 43 from Mercy Hospital. Next, Norma’s Diner offered a filling, if ordinary, brunch, in quiet ambiance, and I was on my way out of Joplin, a bit late, towards noon.

Most of my day was spent driving, up I-44, then north on the 270, with gas-ups and rest areas the main breaks. A tired, bored young man staffed the Zephyr station, in Ballwin, northwest of St. Louis, where I re-fueled both Sportage, and myself, at the mid-point of the day. The bridge across the Mississippi, a short time later, revealed a Father of Waters that is at a disturbingly muddy, low level. There was scant activity at an Illinois rest area, just south of Bloomington, though the picnic tables along a get-up-and-stretch path are imaginatively done up with mock Midwest town business fronts, as covers. I was glad to have gotten up and stretched. Dinner, a short time later, was broccoli sprouts, with protein from a Thornton’s rotisserie. (Thornton’s is Illinois’ version of Sheetz, or Raceway.)

So now, I am in a secure, quiet Motel 6. They left the light on, and the bed looks new and comfortable. Tomorrow will be the Twelfth Day of Ridvan, so I will put on my “Created Noble” tee, and head over to the House of Worship, a short seven or eight mile drive, for what has become an annual, journey-affirming visit. The Temple, and, by extension, Wilmette are collectively salubrious.

Good night, all.

Eastward Bound and Back, Day 1: Towers of Power

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 29, 2024, Miami, OK– He stood with his feet planted firmly on the floor, arms forcefully at his side, clutching two bottles of Gatorade, jaw set and eyes blazing-with the unspoken message: “Just TRY and take one of these from me.” His father had his back. The future force of nature is four years old, one of the faces of the Texas that is yet to rise.

Father and son were just two of the faces of strength, the towers of power, I encountered on this day of passing through three states. Glenn, the baker, was at his craft, producing, among other delectables, some of the finest breakfast burritos in all New Mexico-if not in the entire Southwest. His red burritos got me off to a good start, this morning.

In the small eastern New Mexico settlement of Milagro, an earnest woman staffed the thriving gas station/convenience market that two friends started, about eight years ago. She was grateful that the Filipina co-owner had filled the windshield cleaner tanks, as it was still a bit nippy there, in late morning. I am glad to see the young couple, who I met in those early days of their enterprise, are doing so well.

My buddy, Wes, in Amarillo, was not available for anything other than a comment. That, being that he was stuck at home. So our lunch in the Fun Zone (Old 66) will wait until five weeks from now. He’s the T-shirt king of the Panhandle, among other things, but that’s a story for another day. One of my cousins, in southwest Missouri, will be doing God’s work, teaching middle schoolers, as I pass through that area, tomorrow, so no meeting with her, either.

In Massachusetts, Mom is holding her own, so my visit with her, this weekend will proceed as planned. Any strength of character I have comes from my parents. My siblings are keeping me posted, on her day-to-day. They, too, are towers of power.

At the Conoco, in Shamrock, the little man stood his ground, and eyed me as I was leaving the store, with a ferocity that seldom have I seen from one so young. I hope he holds onto that determination. There is much that will challenge his grit, far more than this aging wanderer ever will.

Three ladies staffed the toll booths along the Oklahoma Turnpike, each taking the time to note that, in two days, their jobs will pretty much become obsolete, as the system goes electronic on May 1. They will go on to other duties for the Turnpike, probably monitoring glitches in the system-which are bound to happen, at least initially.

So, it is that I reflect back on a day spent going through familiar turf, and take my rest in this comfortable room at Deluxe Inn. Tomorrow will no doubt mean more encounters with towers of power.

The Myth of Finality

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 28, 2024, Gallup- As I was walking to breakfast, at Post 6, this morning, one of the dogs who customarily run up to their owners’ fence and barks his head off, was true to form. A raven began flying in circles, above the dog, and cawed loudly, mimicking the dog’s bark. Animals can hassle each other like that.

So, too, do we humans seem to think it is our due, to hassle one another. I give you the current version of “Forward, into the past!”-Right-wing students, mixing with peaceful protesters and yelling for a renewal of “The Final Solution”. There is no real concern about the Palestinians who have suffered, no desire to see justice for Gaza, just a re-hash of Nazi propaganda-blaming Jews in this country and around the world for the destruction that has come from two groups of extremists fighting one another. Palestinians, in Gaza, have asked that the hatred against ordinary Jews be stopped. It is, they note, not helping their search for justice.

I have relatives who are at least a quarter, or half, and in a few cases full-blooded Jewish. I have many more, both Arab and Jew, who I count as friends. None of them hate the others. Growing up, my parents counted both Arabs and Jews as friends. It is thus second nature.

In Creation, there is no permission given by the Divine, for one group of people to slaughter another. The deluded young man who called for the deaths of all Jews can quote Mein Kampf all he wants, but if he follows through, he deserves full punishment, under the law. I say the same applies to anyone calling for the deaths of all Arabs. Enough is enough! If someone, or a group, attacks a Jew, or an Arab, in my presence, I will stand for the intended victim-nonviolently, mind you, but I will stand in defense of the one being attacked.

Today is the anniversary of Baha’u’llah’s Declaration of His Mission, to unite mankind, both spiritually and materially. We Baha’is celebrated, worldwide. There are fellows in Faith who are of Jewish descent, as Penny was and there are fellows in Faith who are of Arab descent-in fact, there are Baha’is in virtually every ethnicity, across the planet. We stand for the oneness of mankind. There is no room for anyone to act on genocidal thoughts, of any kind. There is no such “final solution”.

In a few days, I will be at the Baha’i House of Worship, in Wilmette, Illinois, north of Chicago. I try to visit there, each time I head east, for family visits. The magnificent Temple helps me ground self spiritually. This time, I hope to see both Jewish and Arabic visitors, among the multitude that is there, on any given day.

The only finality should be love.

Dharma Sunset

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

April 27, 2024, Paulden, AZ- “You’re spirit IS you!”, the 5-year-old boy opined, as we were talking about whether we lived forever. I had just noted that my body would be gone some day, but my spirit would live on. His reply showed that he already knew that we would continue to live on.

He has named himself Sunset, and his parents are going with it. Their overarching concern is that each of their five children, and possibly a sixth, will grow to their maximum potential and on each child’s own terms. So far, what I have seen is an amazing group of strong humans, loving and nurturing with one another-and learning from their mistakes, without accumulating baggage.

It had been three years since I last visited the little bit of heaven that its residents call Dharma Farm. Most of my absence had more to do with scheduling-mine and the family’s. Tonight, though, we were in sync, the older girls preparing a simple meal and the younger siblings, including Sunset, enjoying the two exercise balls which I have given the family, rather than have the balls just sit in my bedroom and be used infrequently. I walked around the farm with the father, noting changes he and his wife have made on the property, since my last visit. Several more trees have been planted and are thriving. A couple of buildings, including a greenhouse, have been added. So, too, has a lonely young girl come to be a regular part of the family and two other, wonderful women and their children settled in.

The place continues to be a haven-and another woman, earlier today, at a different location, musing about how delightful it was to see happy children, would have been thrilled to have been here. The secret to all this is that the couple is committed to both raising their children holistically and teaching thriving skills (on a permaculture model) at the local community school, as well as in a home schooling co-operative.

Sunset will continue to burn brightly, and so will the rest of his family. Below, are two scenes of his inspiration.

I won’t be absent from here for quite so long, going forward.