Decade of Change, Decade of Growing

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November 27, 2020, Plano-

Ten years ago, I was saying goodbye-and in many ways, good riddance, to my Fifties-seemingly a time when I was largely all thumbs, but a time when I extended every ounce of caring and compassion towards keeping a dying woman, the love of my life, alive-until the day she was ready to transition to the Spiritual Realm.

The next day, I became the first of my parents’ children to reach the age of sixty, celebrating that evening, with two pizzas delivered by the nearby Papa John’s, and shared with Aram and four of his friends. Penny was not eating much, by then. A week later, my wife, son and I would be joined by my two brothers and a sister-in-law, more fully marking my 60th, at a fine dining establishment, in downtown Phoenix.

Durant’s is still in business, my three living siblings have each reached the age of sixty, Penny has been one of my Spirit Guides for nearly ten years, and Aram has grown into a level-headed, more focused man, with a wife of his own, and a promising future.

What of me, as the start of my eighth decade of earthly life beckons, in a few short hours? How have I spent this decade? I have faced the demons which taunted me, most of my life. I have learned to focus on my work, in a way that I seldom did while I was struggling as a caretaker. I have taken initiatives in serving my Faith, in ways that my younger, more confused self found daunting. I have traveled some, both domestically and internationally, facing my own foibles and overcoming several of them. I have reached out to more people, in more authentic ways, than I ever did as an awkward, introverted soul.

I have learned to embrace growth. When I wake up tomorrow, it will not feel “terribly strange to be seventy”. There are many miles left ahead.

Forging Ahead

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November 25,2020, Plano-

On a fine and comfortable late November morning, it’s a nice touch to hit the trail, even if the trail in question happens to be paved. So it was that the three of us headed over to Spring Creek Recreation Area, in neighbouring Richardson.

November, in the northern hemisphere, is something of a shoulder month, with leaves having mostly fallen (the cottonwoods of the Southwest, in their golden glory, are an exception). Nonetheless, Nature is healing, sustaining, even in its time of faded glory.

So it was, this morning, at Spring Creek.

This ramp leads down onto the trail.
Most of the trail is flat. This is, after all, a forest situated in a prairie.
Spring Creek, a small stream, is muddy in times of low precipitation.

There were relatively few people on the trail with us. A family of five, with a mildly mischievous adolescent boy teasing his older sister, and a couple of loud younger boys from another family, punctuated an otherwise quiet, self-absorbed coterie of joggers and T’ai-Chi practitioners, who wanted nothing but privacy.

Returning back to Plano Home, Yunhee treated Aram and me to freshly- made bowls of bibimbap, a Korean dish in which is placed rice, ground meat, leafy greens, shredded carrots, mushrooms and, if one wishes, either hard-boiled or over-easy egg in an individual bowl. The diner mixes the ingredients to own satisfaction. Often, the ceramic bowl is heated, so that a raw egg will cook as it is mixed with the other contents. Today, though, all was cooked in advance. It was, nonetheless, delectable-along with her home-made kimchi and seasoned dried minnows.

Bibimbap

As will be occasional, throughout this week’s visit, I felt it proper to join a couple of Zoom calls. One was with a small group of kindred spirits, in a guided meditation. The other, celebrating the life of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, was based in Prescott. Today is observed as the Day of the Covenant, which was the wish of ‘Abdu’l-Baha for those who expressed a desire to celebrate His birthday. As He was born on the very day that al-Bab proclaimed His Mission to humanity, ‘Abdu’l-Baha randomly selected this day (November 25 or 26, depending on the lunar calendar) as a day during which Baha’is could celebrate His life, and Baha’u’llah’s Covenant with His followers.

As it happens, November 28, 1921 was the day on which ‘Abdu’l-Baha ascended to the Spiritual Realm. Thus, in a short span of days, we honour His life and commemorate His passing. Next year, as you might imagine, our focus will be on that extraordinary life and legacy.

So it is, that the governing body of the Baha’i Faith, the Universal House of Justice, has given us a rough outline of the decade ahead- a One -Year Plan, focusing on the above-mentioned life and legacy of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, and a subsequent nine years of helping to build a more sustainable and peace-focused society. So it is, that we forge ahead.

Threading the Needle

2

November 24, 2020, Plano-

I set out, early this morning, for Phoenix, then by air to Dallas and on to this home away from home, just north of the Big D. My son and daughter-in-law live here, and it is the logical place to mark my coming seventieth birthday.

The flight, and its preceding and subsequent drives, went very smoothly. Although it was a full flight, I was masked from the time I left my car in Long-term Parking at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport until the time I got in Aram’s car at DFW-and I was seated with two young boys on the plane, thus encountering minimal risk (Yes, they, too, wore masks).

This trip flies in the face of the demands of many public health officials, that everyone stay home and meet virtually, over both Thanksgiving and Christmas. There is one caveat: I will be spending most of the next five days in this apartment. Travelers, like myself, have a responsibility to thread the needle of any departure from our primary homes in a very careful manner.

Thus, I am wearing filtered face masks, sanitizing my hands and keeping the prescribed six-foot distance in public places= as I have been doing since March. Thus, I am avoiding being in a ridiculously crowded indoor space. No, the airport was not so crowded that I could not maintain physical distance.

In a few short days, as indicated above, I will enter my eighth decade on this planet. I intend to continue most, if not all, of my acts of service and, when a modicum of success in counteracting Coronavirusdisease 2019 is reached, to resume planned travels, furhter afield.

For now, I am fotunate to be with my little family.

Small Audience Auditions

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November 23, 2020-

As near-milestones fall, I look for the special bounty that comes with a day, regardless of what lies ahead. Today, my last teaching assignment as a sixty-something was with a couple of sonnet-writing classes and three levels of drama class.

I am not much at writing sonnets, so thankfully, the students were all well along. in their own writing. The Beginning Drama class was studying silhouettes, throughout history, so we had a fine discussion on the appearance of women, and men, through the ages. Most said they are glad to have not been around when full corsets were in vogue. One objected to the very idea of what he called “grotesque exaggeration” of female body parts-such as the Victorian-era depiction of the buttocks, all by way of hyper-couture. I share his disdain; women are given to a variety of types of beauty. Putting one’s body through torture, in order to meet someone else’s expectations, is never an even trade. Ladies, you are just fine, the way you are.

The next class, consisting of four people, saw each student present a particular sonnet that had been individually assigned. I have never assessed a dramatic presentation before, but using a clear rubric, the students could not tell that I was a novice. Much depends on intuition and presence. There was some embarassment, on their part, at auditioning to a small audience, yet one pulled self together nicely, infusing a perfect blend of emotion and enunciation. Even reading off a page, a gifted actor can stir deep feelings.

Lastly, the set-builders came in, and showed finesse with carpentry and prop painting. Their work was simple, yet wondrous. I see no “trade deficit”, in the sense of young people taking to crafts and the building professions, despite anecdotes of older contractors bemoaning the lack of ambition among the rising generations.

I value in-person education, and getting in there and working WITH the kids seems to build their self-confidence and drive, more than just reading instructions aloud, and retreating to the isolation of a desk-or an office.

The East Wing

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November 22, 2020-

On this day, fifty-seven years ago, the trigger was pulled on hope and change in America, as fleeting as it seemed to be under John F. Kennedy. Too many who flew the banner of progress, in the 1960s and ’70s, had their lives cut short by those who had much invested in the status quo.

On that day, I remember sitting in a middle-of-the room seat, in a Study Hall, in the East Wing of Saugus High School. We were attending afternoon sessions, as eighth graders, as our Junior High School had been torched by a disturbed individual, several weeks before. Thus, the high school was the site of double sessions, with the upper level students taking classes in the morning, so as to be able to go their jobs, in the afternoon.

A classmate, who was sitting behind me, asked “Why did you kill the President?” I turned around and looked at him curiously, then noted he was listening to his transistor radio (the predecessor to a cell phone, for the disaffected of our adolescence), through ear buds. All the same, I went back to my reading material.

Several minutes later, the School Counselor came on the Intercom and informed us that President Kennedy had been shot and that classes were being dismissed for the day. I walked home, somberly, and found my sobbing mother, saying he had died in hospital.

The East Wing was itself torched, by the same individual, who was eventually caught by a vigilant school custodian, at our third venue of that year. 1963-64 was, for me, the 2020 of virulent mayhem. There was no microbial pandemic, but I began to wonder who, and what, were next. Five years later, we had our answer.

I will always be fond, though, of the East Wing. All the schools we used that year are now gone, replaced by consolidated school buildings, which the present administration of Saugus Public Schools regards as more efficient. For the sake of the children and youth who depend on that school system, I trust it works out well.

Like Old Home Week

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November 21, 2020-

Saturday Morning Market brings out the best in produce, organic meats and a variety of ready to eat items, from burritos to babaganoush. Then there is the home made ice cream, a pint of which can suffice me for a week.

Some weeks, Farmer’s Market is a spare affair, in terms of how many friends I encounter-besides the vendors. Today, though, I had the good fortune to visit with three or four fellow travelers whom I had not seen in nearly two months. Back in Saugus, we called such as being “like old home week”.

When people of various backgrounds and ideologies can remain civil to one another and converse about matters of mutual interest, without the least bit of rancor, it is always a good day. My friends run the gamut from New Age farmers to a conservative Christian microgreens grower, and all in between. That they are all supportive and solicitous of one another is even sweeter.

This is the real impetus behind my conscious efforts to relate to each person, based on our commonalities, and yes, I do pass over the differences. The former will get us past any challenges. The latter can only raise too many barriers.

It’s good to be in a place of Old Home Week.

Limits

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November 20, 2020-

I cut off all contact with an online magazine today, after about four months of reading sometimes disingenuous articles and abiding others that are perilously naive in their pronouncements.

Over these many years, some have told me that I have the patience of Job. This is largely true, when I am dealing with children or teenagers, and see that they are not hiding behind cunning or willful deceit. Some people just need what seems like forever to make changes. I know that it was true of me, so to penalize another soul for what I did wrong, seems worse than callow.

This was a day of turning aside from those who persist in deflecting attention from the legal maneuvers being conducted, relative to a recent election, by pointing to supposed crimes committed by someone who can barely get out of his own way. It was a day of leaving an online session which was degenerating into pointless argument. It was a day of me telling myself that I am going to limit my presence on Zoom still further, with only my promised hosted sessions, and a handful of others, keeping me tied to the chair, laptop and neck pillow. One could easily become a permanent resident of The Chair and Screen.

Maybe I am showing my age, but I have no time for the trivial and nitpicky-and even less use for those who are still harping about Barack Obama-or Ronald Reagan, for that matter. There are huge issues to be faced, which can ONLY be faced, and resolved, by a unified front. One would think that COVID-19 would have made that very clear, but no-it may take a whole lot more to bring the bickering fringes to a place of sensibility. When that happens, I’ll be hard at work on solutions-just give me a call, or even a Ping.

As for my critics, I have taken advice, from friend and foe alike, about cybersecurity-adding several passwords, facial recognition and two-step verification. I have some more work to do, in that regard. I am not, however, going to devote any attention to self-absorbed narcissists, nor do I care one iota about what Rudy Giuliani thinks that Hunter Biden did. Both are dysfunctional people, in need of help.

Keep the eyes front and center, people.

Progression

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November 19, 2020- I went home, this morning-to Prescott High School, my last place of fulltime employment. It was only for a couple of hours, covering for a friend who was tending to his family dog’s illness. Those who were my friends and well-wishers, back in earlier times, were glad that I came back. Those who were among ill-wishers were silent; they had no say in the matter, anyway. I genuinely feel that I have a place in that facility.

Facilitating small groups of people, in their self-directed study of the German language, was a pleasant way to spend the morning. I even picked up a few words in the tongue of my maternal ancestors. It made a difference to a few of the starfish on the beach, so to speak.

Afterwards, I ran a couple of papers, which had errantly remained in my possession yesterday, over to Liberty School, then dropped in to check on friends, one of whom is recovering from a deadly disease (not COVID).

During this time, thoughts came through about the progression of my life, and the themes that defined each decade. The 1950s and’60s were formative years. The 1970s and 2000s were years of faltering in the face of challenges and of making a fair number of mistakes. The 1980s and 2010s were times of spiritual growth, of falling down-but getting back up, and treasuring novel experiences. The 1990s were mostly a time of stability, and of finally shedding residual rough edges.

The 2020s are shaping up to be years of staying calm in the storm. I can see that the current pandemic may well be only the tip of the iceberg, and that it is extremely crucial to stay focused on the spiritual solutions to problems-not getting caught up in the tides of the moment. I am looking, at long last, of seeing a time of fruitio, much like the ’90s, but with the difference that now, I genuinely believe in myself.

Your Dreams

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November 18, 2020-

Your dreams count,

so long as they don’t mean

the destruction of another

of God’s creatures.

Your dreams matter,

even if they differ

from another’s dreams,

but let them not

be the stuff of negation.

Your dreams can,

and should,

be wondrous

and raise the level

of mankind,

and of our collective home.

Your dreams-

may they propel you

forward into the Light.

Self-Advocacy

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November 17, 2020-

Two of the most odious, misguided phrases in the English language are “Don’t get smart!” and “What are you, a wise guy?” Intelligence and wisdom, viewed as threats to the security of a grown human, say far more about the perceiver than about the perceived.

In all my years in education, the single most admirable group of people I have encountered are those who not only think for themselves, but speak up for themselves and classmates, as well. I don’t mean the loud, braying complainers; rather, those who speak respectfully, but eloquently and with gravitas.

It is nice to see this, when it happens, especially in an educational setting. I have seen children as young as five years of age say “Enough! This is not how things ought to be!” It does my heart good when adults don’t quash such self-advocacy. So it was, that I praised those who made a perfectly sensible request, in the last hour of class, this afternoon.

The most cogent aspect of such early self-advocacy is that there is no slow burn, no festering, unspoken resentment. There is no ennui, no apathy being seeded. There is, instead, the organic rise of a responsible and self-assured generation, which will be more likely to take its place in society, without a perceived need to engage in mayhem.

So it is, that in the rest of my work with students, in the month that I have left of fulltime work, and in the special assignments I will be asked to take on, between January and May, the focus will be on both fostering the thought process and on their self-advocacy- which are both outgrowths of accepting responsibility for one’s well-being.

I say: “Get smart; be wise!”