December 17, 2025- The lone pedestrian took his turn in the crosswalk, as I approached the intersection, with one car ahead of me, and prepared to turn left-once the man had reached the curb. The driver ahead was also turning left, and edging up to the very crosswalk, while the pedestrian was still in it, made a show of going around the poor soul. Pedestrian and I both shook our heads simultaneously. I get quite exercised about that sort of close call! What if the pedestrian had stumbled and fallen backwards?
I bit later, I took some items to a friend who said she might be able to use them. After sifting through the stock and taking about half of it, she mused about people routinely bringing items, almost expecting that she would take the lot. I don’t dump things on people. I leave them with what they can actually use and find other places for the rest.
Public libraries have graciously accepted seven boxes of the books that have accumulated over the past fifteen years-between Phoenix and here. I have kept those volumes that I know will get read, especially the children’s books that I look forward to reading to my grandchild. The books that are left should fit in the car, along with the clothes, on my first trip out to Plano. I also donated another two boxes of assorted household items to other services.
The furniture will involve more calling around and seeing which agency is interested and can pick up. The first, which shall remain nameless for now, is rather fussy about what it will take. No matter, I no longer deal with them, anyway, for other lapses of ethics, as regards the homeless. I have a hard time with those who foster a mentality that divides people into classes.
December 15, 2025- There is only one constant, when transitioning from a long-time residence to taking over someone else’s long-time residence. It helps to have money set aside. I have found it will be in my best interests to invest in a U-Pod, which will mean two stages of the move, owing to Hana’s birth and the U-Pod’s schedule being on two separate wavelengths. I am only grateful that I can manage to do justice to both.
I divested myself of about half my wardrobe, saying goodbye to things that I have kept, but not worn and things that no longer fit. I have done the same to my book collection. Those volumes that I am unlikely to ever read, or that I have read and think will be enjoyed by others, have been passed on. Finally, the furniture: I have scant need for anything that is in this apartment, save a folding card table, once I am in Plano. Most will go to one thrift store or another. One piece is likely to be bought by someone in town.
Today was my last visit to the Coffee Klatsch, and last time volunteering at the Soup Kitchen. Both groups are filled with fond memories and people who will miss me as much as I do them. Life will go on, though, and a friend has already stepped up to take my place on the serving line. He will be an excellent fit for that operation, and made a good impression this evening.
So, the wall art and the small knick-knack keepsakes will be covered in bubble wrap. The family archives will be prepared for transport, some at the end of the week and the rest in the middle of next week. Our darling will appear in between it all. I am all in for the whole process.
December 14, 2025- I did not go to Bellemont, and climb up a long flight of stairs, six times, in order to store six boxes of books in an already crowded room which few people will enter until next summer. I had considered that option, until early this morning.
My late wife appeared to me in a dream, as if she were right beside me. That was a nice sensation, and though I realized it was a different level of reality, some insights came to me. I got the message to check with our public library, to see if they would take 2 boxes of the books. They did so, gladly, thus bringing a more meaningful Baha’i presence to either their general stock, their saleable book collection, or both.
Regarding the actual move, consultation with my son led me to contact a possible moving assistance service, comparing their price with what it would cost me to do the move on my own. There are timing issues, as well, so I will see what their answer is. This is the U-POD system that is growing in popularity. It makes sense for people who have a high volume to move. I do not, but rather am just in that gray area, with a few too many keepsakes for one trip.
Reason made this day a nice one. I did not have to leave town, saving my energy for what lies ahead this week. I can get a lot more done tomorrow, and won’t have to worry about letting my family down, come next week.
December 11, 2025- A few of us gathered for a regular gathering, this afternoon, with illnesses and work trimming our numbers. There was a fair amount of interest in my schedule for departure and what might await me on the other end. Friends here are universally happy for me and family, while wistful about what it all means for the community. I know that I am hardly the be all and end all of anything, yet it feels nice to be so appreciated.
One friend gifted me with a small device that, inserted in the left ear, will alert with a buzz, if it senses a driver starting to doze off. This has not been a problem for me since the lowest point of my caretaking days, but it is best to be forearmed. I will use it faithfully, in the journey that lies ahead.
My morning had been occupied with cleaning out the spice cabinet. All those items that I had dutifully kept, from time immemorial, ended up discarded. Most glass bottles and metal boxes were carefully cleaned and placed in recycling. The worn out contents were properly placed in trash. Similar processes lie ahead for the office desk drawers, the clothes closet and the dresser. Then, there is the carport storage, either next Wednesday or Thursday. The book shelves are separated between “keep” and “donate”. Friends will come to look at the furniture, probably over the weekend, knowing that the sofa and the bed frame are headed elsewhere.
All this occupies me and generates solutions. There was a suggestion that I rent a large truck and tow Sportage. That would obviate any need for a second trip back and forth, but which is the absurdity and which, the solution, is still a matter of dollars, and sense. Aram and I will work that part out next week.
At least one medical provider has a counterpart in the Plano-Frisco area, and I can drive to that office, using a surface road. I’m hardly afraid of freeways, mind you, but have always made it my business to know the layout of secondary streets.
I go through this process, in the only way I know how, seeking solutions by talking things over with family and friends, and taking concrete steps forward, each day. I would like to see the same thing happen, in affairs of state, but there are so many who, it seems, are given over to absurdities. Eventually, solutions will present themselves, and not take “No’ for an answer. I prefer to have found them in a timely manner.
December 10,2025- In the Fall of 1979, a co-worker at Villa School, in Eloy, had a vehicle and wanted someone to go with her to Oak Creek Canyon and Sedona. My hand went up, as I was actively visiting as much of Arizona as I could on weekends, without the benefit of owning my own vehicle. So, northward we went, first to Flagstaff’s Fort Tuthill (fairgrounds), then down along U.S. 89, stopping next at an overlook and purchasing a few items of Dineh jewelry. (She, for herself and I, for another co-worker, whose birthday was approaching).
Then, the magic started to unfold-a riotous blend of colours: Blue sky, green trees and grass and red rocks presented their unique co-existence all along the windy canyon road, carved long ago, by Oak Creek. The creek itself served up a hearty torrent, at Slide Rock, which hosted a popular Arizona State Park. We looked for a bit at the happy families, kids squealing in delight and teen boys on the ledge above, daring one another to jump off into the creek. (None did, given that their fathers were close by, wielding veto power). We soon went on, down towards Sedona, creeping along behind a bicyclist, who was half arrogantly occupying the center of the lane and half scared to death that his brakes might fail. The slow pace only amplified the majesty of the place. We took in Cathedral Rock, Courthouse Butte and Bell Rock, all from their bases. I was an avid hiker, but my co-worker was not. I made a mental note to return to each of these, and explore further.
Over the years, Sedona has been a regular destination-either alone, or when accompanied by Penny, by our son, Aram, by his wife, Yunhee, by members of the NAU Hiking Club or, most recently, by my present Hiking Buddy, Akuura, the area has not once failed to present the most majestic of views. Those views change with the position of the Sun. Light and shadow are everything in the Southwest, and nowhere more so than in this most wondrous of places, where canyon meets mountain.
Akuura and I took in Red Rock State Park, for one final excursion, before I devote myself full tilt to dispersing many possessions and packing up the rest. It was an exquisite day, weather-wise, and so we took in Eagle’s Nest and Javelina Overlook-and several points along the way.
The blue and green were gearing up; the red a bit subdued, yet, at the base of Eagle’s Nest Trail.
The hues deepened, though, as my shadow and I walked towards the switchbacks that led to the overlook.
It may not look treacherous, but the sign is quite accurate.
The first phase of Javelina Trail passes by an area where several mule deer were grazing and another area, where a lone javelina was moving away from a small assembled group of bird watchers/deer oglers. We would encounter the deer again, towards the end of our hike, but that was the last we saw of the boar. This magnificent little spire could be called Love Rock, for all I know, but it is a standalone outcropping, along the flat trail, just before Apache Fire Loop rises off to the right.
Once atop the Javelina Trail, the iconic view of Cathedral Rock offered itself.
We briefly pondered the trail east to another part of this majestic expanse, but then opted to head back down to the Visitors Center-and on to lunch. Just before getting to the Visitors Center, we encountered the family of resident mule deer, enjoying their lunch.
The final visit to Sedona, of this year at least, came to an end, with a celebratory lunch at The Belfry, at the entry to Old Town Cottonwood. I long ago swore to spare my readers any food photos, but this chandelier is worthy of praise.
I will someday be back in Sedona, and God willing, I might even have a wide-eyed granddaughter along.
December 9, 2025- In 2012, I drove out to San Diego, a favoured destination since 1978. Having befriended several bloggers from Los Angeles and nearby Orange County, I arranged to meet four of them on this first westward outing, since the death of my wife, Penny, a year earlier. Three have moved on from our acquaintance, and one has remained, a faithful, supportive older sister. She has seen me outgrow a lot of self-imposed limitations and cast off a lot of baggage.
Ever gracious, my friend rose from the park-style bench and greeted me with a side-hug, on this last visit to southern California for a while. (Except for a possible pit stop at LAX, next month, which hardly counts.) We then headed into the Ladera Ranch branch of Corky’s, a lovely chain of breakfast and lunch spots across Orange County, eastern Los Angeles and the Inland Empire. Our respective years were shared, as well as what lies ahead for each of us, in very different spaces. J is always a voice of reason, so I value her insight into my impending move to Texas.
The greatest driving force in my life, this month, is honouring the friendships that have grown over the decades that I’ve been in Arizona, and the nearly twenty years that I’ve been active online. So it was an easy drive to Orange County; it will be a joyful hike at Sedona’s Red Rock State Park, tomorrow and a blissful, if a bit wistful, series of gatherings from Thursday to next Wednesday. I have an enormous amount of gratitude to this state in general and to Prescott in particular, for having helped me come out of an oversized shell. It has helped me develop a sense of fulfillment.
I made it from Banning to Ladera Ranch, thoroughly enjoying our two-hour visit, then made a farewell drive down I-5, thanking the ocean for being such a comfort and an affirmation of all that matters in life. Over the hills of northern San Diego County, up I-15 along with hordes of home-bound commuters and along the stretch of Highway 79 north, through suburban Temuecula and rural French Valley to Hemet and back over to I-10, it was back towards Arizona.
At midnight, I’m back at Home Base I. Another promise remains to be fulfilled-and that makes all the difference.
December 8, 2025, Banning- Two small piles of notebooks, coloured pencils, a therapeutic colouring book and post cards which had accumulated over the past fourteen years were offered to those gathered at the weekly Soup Kitchen. It took exactly fifteen minutes for six people to go through the offerings and take what suited them, in a discerning manner.
I will be doing more of that, over the ten days left to me to prepare for the move to Plano, especially as most of what I am giving was itself given me, following Penny’s passing, in 2011. Of course, it will largely go to Thrift Stores or to Habitat for Humanity, but new uses will be found for even the most well-worn items.
First, though, is my final visit to Orange County, at least until my granddaughter, whose birth is fourteen days away, attains toddlerhood. With that in mind, I took advantage of an easy clean-up after Soup Kitchen and headed west, through Arizona’s Outback and the Colorado Desert of eastern California. Only a couple of brief incidents coloured the generally smooth trip.
Between Aguila and Wenden, along US 60, there happened to be two rather large deer standing in the road. As Sportage approached, one deer went north and the other dashed south-no collision tonight!
Later, after I topped off the gas tank at Ehrenburg, a Honda Accord appeared to my left, as I was leaving the station-the driver bulling his way onto the road, to get ahead of me. Since he had been right behind a pick-up, I figured they were traveling together and he didn’t want to get separated. That was, until he zipped past the pick-up. Oh, well, we all got to stop, a half-mile further west, at the Ag Inspection. CHP also had a Safety Zone set up, for five miles through Blythe and just beyond, so we were all limited to 60 mph. Sometimes, taking ends up becoming giving, in terms of personal freedom. It’s often better to just go with the flow, at least when it comes to traffic.
From Wiley’s Well onward, the trip was uneventful, and I pulled into a different motel, the Margarita, around 10:15, PST. Tomorrow, I will meet my Orange County friend at Ladera Ranch and share my joys of this past year and the year to come.
December 3, 2025- I arrived back at Home Base I around Noon. Newspapers were neatly stacked and the mail had been delivered from the holiday hold. My hardy houseplant did just fine, with a week’s supply of water and some access to sunlight. The re-upholstered couch looks fantastic and the place is cozy and warm. I plotted the December calendar, and found that there is something on tap for each day, until I leave, on or near the Solstice.
Yesterday, I stopped in for lunch at Double C, in Moriarty. Riely has moved on with her life, but a nice young lady, who the owner identified only as “Employee 9”, served the seven of us who showed up at once-without batting an eyelash. The chili cheeseburger is thick and sumptuous.
Later, in Winslow, once ensconced in the Beatles Room, at Delta Motel, I headed down to “the Corner”, where Glenn Frey never stood, and enjoyed fabulous birria tacos at Shorty’s Cafe. Shorty is a nice lady, assisted by two lovely young women. Marisella, who served me, is effusive and glad to see all who enter the premises.
This morning, the owner of Delta made sure that I knew not to try and navigate Highway 87-“already having problems there with snow and ice.” Figuring she knew something I didn’t, I stuck to the Interstates and had only dry roads to navigate. There was scant snow in the air and none on the ground, between Winslow and Camp Verde. Here in Prescott, the situation was no different and it actually cleared up, this afternoon.
We will have fair and dry weather, while I am getting the place packed up and various items distributed here and there. My jaunt out to southern California, Monday night and Tuesday, and Sedona visit on Wednesday, will also be blessed with perfect weather. I am grateful to be able to tie up loose ends properly. Life continues to proffer blessings on this peripatetic soul.
December 2, 2025, Winslow, AZ- A friend who thinks deeply about the course of human behaviour made a cogent point today- People who often get assessed as being “broken” or “lost” are more often creatures of dependence. They seek approval or guidance from those they view as more powerful or worthy of control over their affairs, and leave their own power on the sidelines.
Through my life, I have often been right, when I trusted my gut and my heart. The bloopers, which have also been many, have come when I tried to “honour” requests or demands made by those who I, erroneously, deemed “heavy hitters”, “hard chargers”, or more adept at life than yours truly. They came when I absorbed their insults and diatribes into my own psyche. Mathematically, this translates into (Dependence) X (Sycophancy)= Self-defeat.
Here is what I would like to see increased: Each person takes stock of how the gut feels, how the heart feels and how those feelings are in sync with common sense, before deciding upon a course of action and certainly before carrying it out. Committing myself to these has definitely decreased the number, and severity, of bloopers that cause so much pain and annoyance to me and to those around me.
This morning, I had a brief urge to go from Tucumcari to Pecos National Historic Site-which would have been a two-hour, thirty-five minute diversion. Gut told heart that there is simply much to be done back in Prescott, once I return there tomorrow. When the turn northward, towards Pecos, presented itself, I kept on driving west, and other than a brief stop at Continental Divide, continued on until I decided that a Winslow break was in order. Top notch birria tacos, at Shorty’s and a night’s stay in The Beatles Room, at Delta Motel, the music-themed inn that is one of my favourites have helped set the tone for the rest of my return to Prescott and getting started on the month of transition ahead.
As for the exploration of New Mexico and other areas, I am looking forward to helping, slowly and gradually, introduce the world and its beauty to my grandchild.
December 1, 2025, Tucumcari- My friend sat across from me, in a crowded coffee shop, on the west side of Amarillo. He referred, a couple of times, to things he’d seen on Tik-Tok, a medium he finds amusing. A few minutes later, he told of posts on said medium that he found revolting.
I have never been a fan of Tik-Tok,nor of Snap Chat, Reddit or any other medium that relies, for its existence, on mass, conformity-based consumption of whatever drivel the worst among its contributors serves up, particularly in the form of “challenge”. Whoever dreamed up the nightmare that was “Tide Pod Challenge” (before Tik-Tok, in fairness) deserves to be consigned to the scrap heap of historical opprobrium. Its successors, some of which have found their way to Tik-Tok (i.e. Jam Jar Pulse Jet), likewise deserve nothing short of universal condemnation, for the resulting harm they cause both those who attempt them and their loved ones who are left to pick up the pieces of the person(s) left in relative ruin.
Tik-Tok could have become the purveyor of presentations that elevate humanity, the way Wikipedia and, for the most part, TED Talks and You Tube have become. Instead, we have the media promoter of the ethos that is reflected in that most odious of sentiments, “It’s better than Crack!” End of rant.
The day was, all in all, very nice. I bid farewell to my little family, for a few weeks, then found it fairly easy to exit Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. The drive along Northwest Passage was easy, and I found my lunch stop, Valley Pecans, rather deserted. Somehow, I was about the first customer at that lovely cafe-emporium, and was, thankfully, followed by about a dozen other people. It was Noon, so high time for travelers to surface.
After my visit with friend, Wes, In Amarillo and a fuel stop, I made it to this high desert gem, taking this room at Rodeway Inn and heading to Del’s Diner, one of Tucumcari’s best. Del’s has been around since 1966, and the crowds, such as the one there tonight, are proof of its excellence. Martha and crew treated everyone special, tonight. The regulars attest that this is no fluke. It’s how the crew is every day, every meal. Viva Del’s; viva Tucumcari!
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A Sagittarian Seeker 