Table Mesa, Part IV: Boy Scout, Not Out

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December 26, 2016, New River-  This small settlement’s hinterland drew me back, yet again, this time to complete a twelve-mile round trip to the edge of a course called Boy Scout Loop.  I am not sure I actually found it today, either, but I did walk six miles each way, and stayed on the BCNRT, until coming to a loop’s end.  It just wasn’t identified as “Boy Scout”, and the purists insist it would have been.

No matter, this was my fifth visit to Table Mesa trailhead, and the last for a while.  Here are some scenes along the segment I hiked today.SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

The trailhead, on the southern side of Forest Road 9950, got me headed in the right direction, towards a long mesa to the west of here.

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The trail continued to be somewhat rugged, in spots, as I made my way along the long mesa’s eastern edge.  Mostly, though, this segment passes through long desert valleys, with mesquite and saguaro forests.

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Here is a southern view of an outcropping I passed about a month ago, during a hike along Forest Road 9950.

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Heart-shaped rocks have always reassured me that I am on the right path, and am surrounded by love.  I saw many more such stones this time, than I have in  while.

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This remnant of a miner’s crate is on what I took to be the northern edge of Boy Scout Loop.  At any rate, it’s near where I turned and began heading back.

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This is one of the mesquite forests I encountered, on this relatively easy trek.

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I saw nary another human on this hike, although there were many target shooters on the Table Mesa range, whom I could hear to my east, for much of the jaunt.  These mule deer were in a safe spot, though, and were my only visible companions.

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There is a dormant volcano, about six miles east of here, which did cast igneous rock far afield, several thousand years ago.  Here is one remnant of that outburst.

I again found my flashlight very handy, with part of the trail having been obliterated by Saturday’s rain storm, and my having to follow a dry creek-bed part of the way back.  Having basic knowledge of the topography, it wasn’t long before I found the trail again, even with moonless conditions.

The final two segments of BCNRT will begin from New River’s Emery Henderson Trailhead.  It looks like January 8, and later on in the month, will allow time for those finishing touches.

Transitioning

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December 22, 2016, Prescott- 

My new supervisor came to call, this afternoon.  She informed us of some fundamental changes, aimed at further empowering our students.  I will have a freer hand, in both teaching our most vulnerable student, individually, and in working with the most advanced student, more on his own terms.

This is the thing about incremental change.  It is most effective when there is common ground, and ways are found to meet the needs of all.  That means there must be lack of greed, and a recognition that there is a place for the highest and the lowest, alike. One can’t denigrate the other.

I want to see this for the nation as a whole, and then the planet as an entity.  It broke my heart to see suffering in declining cities like Zanesville and Allentown, just as much as it did to view  the despair of people in Ferguson, MO, during my travels of the past summer. I care as much for those living on the edge in Appalachia and the Ozarks, as for my friends in Navajo, Hopi, Ute Mountain, Standing Rock and Pine Ridge.  Extend this to the west and center of Asia,to Rakhine, to the heart of Africa, the favelas and barrios of Latin America, to the camps and ghettos of Europe, and you get the picture.

Each of us can make the transition stronger.  We just have to be consistent, and united.

Sixty-Six, for 66, Part II: Solstices, Hot and Cold

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December 21, 2016, Prescott-  So, from today, our days will be getting ever  so slightly longer, with minute temperature changes a-coming, until June 21.  One of the kids asked about the Southern Hemisphere, and learned that the days in Australia,  most of South America and much of Africa, will now be getting shorter, until that same date, next year.

I was in Sydney, once, in mid-September, 1971, and enjoyed a mild Spring week.  I even had a few hours at Bondi Beach, and didn’t need a sweater, on the hydrofoil to Taronga Park.  Our seasons aside, I felt rather at home “Down Under”, and will someday make my way again to those parts, and to many others, for the first time.

Enough of things about which I can do nothing.  I’d rather focus on the emotional solstices that we seem to experience.  A few questions for thought:  How often have friends, some of them trusted, turned aside for the least perceived slight?  How often have friendships turned, because of unshared convictions, or a feeling that perhaps one is no longer “useful”?  How often has a friend looked upon you as a surrogate, either for a lost loved one, or for the person him/herself?

I am comfortable in many climates, and in many situations.  It’s something to which I have gravitated, all my life.  My peculiar form of loyalty is to humanity, as a whole- so slights are forgiven, secrets are kept, and often forgotten, and people are valued, even when they forget to value themselves.  I guess this is a fine way of remaining adaptable to both earthly and human environments.

Human seasons continue to come and go.  May they become milder, in tone and sharper, in meaning.

Service

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December 19, 2016, Prescott- 

It was a calmer day, today.

We are now down to three-and-a-half days,

until time comes for a change of pace.

The look of surprise,

on the face of one of my supervisors,

when I said I had plans

other than working, gratis,

in the classroom,

over the Holidays,

was priceless.

There is more to life,

than one’s chosen daily routine.

There will be other things

on my plate,

from this coming Saturday,

until the second Sunday

of the new year.

Service is always front and center,

and it takes many forms.

 

A Progressive Rogue

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December 17, 2016, Prescott- 

I regard myself as a progressive.  There is only one way to real progress, though, in my view.  That is, for everyone to roll up their sleeves, get a given job done, and not be concerned with WHO ELSE is on the team, or in the relay line, so long as each person is carrying his or her weight.

I was on a team, this morning, whose collective task was to empty a storage yard of holiday wreaths.  We had about a thousand wreaths, most of which were in boxes of six.  Our team, of ten men and one woman, loaded the boxes and loose wreaths onto any of three trucks.  The trucks then brought their loads up to a staging area, in Prescott Memorial Cemetery, where others took the wreaths and placed them at each of a thousand or so gravesites, as part of Wreaths Across America, which honours our departed veterans, each Christmas season.  The team members did not stop for a minute, until the job was done.  Yes, it was cold(18-25 F), but so was shoveling snow, back in Saugus, Deerfield and Bangor, in my earlier days.  As the project director said, when we first gathered for assignments, the men and women whose graves we honoured did not flinch, for convenience’s sake.

I left the site, after our job was finished, and went over to another place, where 45 women, men and children were putting Christmas baskets and backpacks together, for homeless veterans and disadvantaged families.  My jobs were to sort donated groceries into food types, sort empty backpacks into piles, by colour and size, and then help fill twenty backpacks, with donated clothing, safety implements, toiletries and stationery. Once again, each of us worked with the others, across lines of ideology, gender and age, with no regard for differences.

These two events, no doubt, had their counterparts, by the thousands, across the country, and around the world.  We do them, as part of our community loves, on a daily basis, some of us more than others, but each according to his/her own talents and time allowances.

I  went to see “Rogue One:  A Star Wars Story”, last night, in our very comfortable, and inexpensive, Picture Show Theater.  The plot told of a young woman who grows up, a de facto orphan, learning the self-reliance and self-discipline that such a state of affairs imparts.  She trusts few, having been abandoned by her father, and betrayed by two competing groups of tyrants.  The rest is up to anyone, wishing to see the film, to find out for themselves.

I have had to go it alone, several times, in life and I’m sure this will happen again.  Being “rogue”, however, doesn’t mean that one should lose sight of the greater challenge facing humanity.  We are here, I believe, to care for one another with enormous passion.  My opus, gladly engaged, is caring for others with an ever-decreasing regard for my own comfort.  Yes, my “job”, in the eyes of family members, is to take care of myself, and I have that one down, pretty well.  That said, people and their chronic issues will not go away by themselves.  Progress means that the problems of society are to be remediated systematically, or not at all.  It means we do this together, and get over our differences.

Deserving

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December 16, 2016, Prescott-

Today was long,

because of wind, and rain.

Two of our boys fought us,

tooth and nail,

over the tests the class took.

Self- determining a curriculum

is something that

requires inner discipline.

Our students don’t

exactly  have that,

in spades.

I overheard a girl

saying that one

of the boys

likes every girl

in the school.

She said he was named

for an angel,

but couldn’t pass for one.

I think every girl

deserves to be liked.

As with boys,

that liking should

be for who she is inside,

and for her dreams.

As with boys,

girls need to know

they are surrounded

by unconditional love and encouragement.

How is it that doesn’t go without saying?

Vortices

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December 15, 2016, Prescott- 

Four years and a day ago,

a vortex of hate came to call,

on a little town in Connecticut.

These past few days,

that vortex, and its cohorts,

have moved on, to Aleppo,

and left a once vibrant city

looking like Dresden,

or Nagasaki, after

Hate came to visit.

A chill vortex is bringing

snow, from the Rocky Mountains

to the rocky Atlantic coast.

It even brings rain,

to parched Los Angeles.

In special spaces,

around the world,

other vortices bring solace.

I wonder,

which vortex

will I encounter, next?

 

Contentment

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December 13, 2016, Prescott-

I will be sending my cards, and a few gifts, out on Thursday evening or Friday.  It will be cutting things close, but this year, I have chosen responsibility over sentiment. Besides, I need to buy a new printer.  Toys for Tots, NAU (my alma mater) and the young people of Streetlight will also need to wait until then.

I am happy, overall, with how my life has panned out, this year.  I am in a position of very intense public service, have a solid circle of friends, am reasonably respected in my community of residence, and have been able to maintain my health and vitality.

My son is holding his own, and getting ready for a great leap of faith and fortune, early next year.  My family, mostly in Massachusetts and Florida, with several scattered in other parts of the country, has been mostly healthy, this year.  I lost two aunts and a cousin,thus far, in the course of 2016. I also saluted an elder who inspired me greatly, as he headed to God’s Eternal Army.

My other love, Nature, rewarded me with a complete hiking circle around this beautiful city, and I have come to the final three segments of an amazing trek through the Sonoran Desert:  Dec. 26-27, and January 6, will find me in the southern sector of Black Canyon National Recreation Trail.  The 19 men who perished while fighting a wildfire in Yarnell, on June 30, 2013, have a memorial place, in Granite Mountain Hotshots Memorial State Park.  I will visit that place, on December 29, making my way along the 7-mile round trip trail that brings the visitor to the place where this unspeakable tragedy unfolded.

This year has brought tension, annoyance and suffering to many, perhaps more than in some years, and less so, for others.  I am grateful for having had relatively good fortune, while being prepared, should challenges come my way, in 2017.  A stable job, re-connecting with some friends who have been off my radar for a few years, and good, if too brief, visits with family, give a good backdrop for whatever might lie ahead.

 

Poisoned By These Fairy Tales

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December 11, 2016, Prescott-

Don Henley included that phrase, in his song, “The End of the Innocence”, in 1989.  It was partly a reaction to what he regarded as the excesses of the Reagan-Bush the Elder years.

I think of it, instantly, whenever an outlandish conspiracy theory surfaces.  I have my own take on such theories, which are always based on fear-gone-wild.  They are a natural outgrowth of the complex levels of secrecy, employed by so many in the power structure.  Nature, and the human mind, abhor vacuums.  Where there is no explanation, a person will provide one of his/her own.  When no credible explanation of the assassination of John F. Kennedy was offered, in which all questions were suitably explained to the public, all manner of explanations began to surface.  It was not long, before every unusual or unsettling event, from the Apollo 13 landing, to the airplane crashing into the Pentagon, was questioned, as to it’s ever having even happened.  Even the wanton slaughter of 26 people, in Newtown, CT, was denied by people with a fair audience- as if 20 children and six adults could actually be alive, and visible, one day- and have never even EXISTED, the next.

Yes, this nation is poisoned by fairy tales- both those invented from whole cloth and those made up by people working for God-knows-who, the end result of which is total, rampant confusion.  Now, we will have four years, during which a man with little political experience has the primary job of leading us out of a wilderness, to which many of his own supporters, and a goodly number of his foes, helped to guide us, in the first place.

May he succeed, even if, especially if, he is not initially so inclined.

Sixty-Six, for 66, #1: Icons

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December 10, 2016, Prescott- I spent the afternoon culling items from my clothes racks and getting rid of luggage, as well as other stuff for which I have no need. The dockman at the local Domestic Violence Prevention agency’s thrift store asked if I were giving up travel.  No, sir, but I am giving up traveling with large luggage.   It all has to fit in a backpack and a light handcart, which I will purchase in the Spring.

Now, on to the subject at hand:  What makes an icon, and does anyone deserve the title?

The second question is answered in a word:  “No”.  We all, at various times, have feet of clay.  I have had those moments, most notably for virtually the entirety of my 20’s, intermittently during my 50’s and the last time, in summer, 2013.

Many of us need iconic figures, though.  Historical personages of this sort, abound:  Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, JFK, Ronald Reagan- each of whom has been yanked off the pedestal by one group or another.  Sports figures come and go, and seem to have shorter shelf lives as icons, than do the above- although flesh and blood heroes, like Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Arthur Ashe and Muhammad Ali, have survived dethroning and controversy and withstood the test of scrutiny.

Icons come to mind for me, at this particular time, because of the passing, on Thursday, of John Glenn and the centenary, on Friday, of Kirk Douglas.  First, Colonel/Senator Glenn:  He would have been enough of a role-model, for his service to the U.S. during World War II, alone.  In the 1960’s, though, every astronaut was larger than life, in the eyes of we who were in Middle School and High School.  The magic of Space was being peeled back, and we were seeing that the likes of Alan Shepard and John Glenn were, indeed, going where no man had gone before- and that the Moon was well within Mankind’s grasp. John Glenn remained the Clean Marine, throughout two decades of service in politics, as well.  No doubt, some will dish dirt on him; no one’s perfect after all, save Those sent directly from God.  My guess, though, is that he, too, will stand the test of time, as a genuine hero.

Kirk Douglas at 100: His life, like that of many others in the film arts, has had its share of scrutiny, tragedy and suffering.  His roles, though, have been varied and astonishing- from Spartacus to Van Gogh.  For us boys in the period of Camelot, his performances defined manliness- both in appearance and in spirit.  How many times did I stand in front of a mirror, and deliver terse rhetoric, with my jaw and chest thrust out?

His true greatness, though, has come with a fair recovery from his stroke, of twenty years ago.  He showed no compunction about being videotaped and photographed, as is, at Friday’s commemorative event.  I can only aspire to such a total lack of vanity, and wish him as many years more,as his quality of life permits.  His final words to the media, on Friday, were:  “I’ll give another interview, when I turn 200.”  That’d be a marvel.

Let’s honour, and treasure, the tall ones among us, while not seeking to either exalt them beyond their levels of stamina or cut them down, out of a desperate urge to level the field.