Souls Passed Through Him

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Posted by on in Community, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Spiritual

September 11, 2016, Yarnell- I read, in this morning’s paper, about a Port Authority policeman, his experiences on September 11, 2001 and his wrenching aftermath- a life no one should have to live.  He spoke of being knocked to the ground, after the second plane hit, the tower fell, and “souls passed through me.”

I believe the last part, having experienced my wife’s soul filling our bedroom, as she prepared to leave for the next life, 5 1/2 years ago.  I know much of the rest: The buildings were physically hit by two airplanes; implosion devices, already in place since the towers were repaired after 1993, were triggered and  brought the towers straight down; dozens of people jumped to their deaths, to avoid being immolated; there are over a thousand for whom there has never been any identification or accounting, as to their fates.

Fifteen years does not erase the horror anyone felt that day.  Most, like me, watched incredulously, on television, as the engineers’ devices went off, automatically, saving tens of thousands more people from dying- as would have happened, had the buildings EXPLODED outward.  Just as those who were alive during the attack on Pearl Harbor still have nightmares, on occasion; just as walking through Gettysburg, Auschwitz, Valley Forge in winter, can still give the average soul and eerie feeling, so I was off to a shaky start, just from reading a post by a friend who was in the first (1993) World Trade Center bombing.

My resolution was to go to this serene town, 25 miles southwest of Prescott, and itself the scene of one of our state’s worst nightmares, on June 30, 2013, when 19 wildland firefighters died in the Yarnell Hill Fire.  I went to St. Joseph’s Mission and Retreat, and walked up the Stations of the Cross trail, revisiting another of history’s greatest horrors- the Martyrdom of Jesus the Christ.  This place brings peace, because the love I feel for Christ, and for His Father, is  primally soothing.  As always, the walk brought me to a centered place, as I recited some Baha’i prayers, words which Jesus Himself would have given His followers, had they been ready to receive.

Terrible things will ever plague humanity, in a harsh world.  Nonetheless, the Sacred Teachers are with us, and having felt Their presence, along this replica of Via Dolorosa, I am able to return to Prescott, and later, to Chino Valley- observing the birthday of a good friend.

 

Passages and Markers

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Posted by on in American Legion, Family, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual

September 10, 2016, Prescott- This was a day of gatherings and  of paying attention to “urgent” messages.  I have learned that the latter is usually a matter of perception.  The former is how we survive and thrive, as a species.

I made my usual visit to the Prescott Farmer’s Market, buying a bit more than usual, so as to bolster the contents of my evening healthy shake.  A trip over to a yard sale, organized by Baha’i friends, gave me a chance to pick up some books and other items that should capture the interest of the children in my care.

Then it was off to a memorial service for John A. Mortimer, about whom I wrote, two weeks ago.  The chapel service was solemn and done with military honours.  I found it touching and lovely.  The gathering at our American Legion Post, afterwards, was packed, as befits his memory.  One who fully lives, until the age of 96, is unlikely to be bid farewell, without fanfare.

John had the full send-off, and 87 or so people gave him all the love and respect he had earned.

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The above was part of the 70th Anniversary of the D-Day Landing, June 6, 2014.

Today is my mother’s birthday.  No one has been, and is, more of an influence as to how I have turned out as an adult than Lila Mae Kusch Boivin.  She it was, who kept after me to pay attention to my surroundings, to be proactive, to not use my affliction as a crutch, to not wait for an invitation to be of help to those around me.  She it was, who did everything on my behalf- from getting after a hard-edged teacher and a know-it-all school counselor, when she felt they were failing to meet my needs, to seeing that I didn’t wallow in self-pity, on any one of a dozen occasions in my adult life, not the least, when my beloved wife passed to the next plane.   On all the occasions when she thought I was tuning her out, it turns out that I was actually storing all that instruction, and have put it to full use, ever since.  She it is, who is behind my survival and relative success.

She wants to live on, fully, and no one is more behind her on this, than yours truly.  Happy 88th, dearest Mother. (My nephew is conveying our collective sentiments, in this photo of three years ago.)

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Crash Course or Coarse Crash?

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Posted by on in Community, Education, Inspiration, Social

September 8, 2016, Prescott-  I have been contributing heavily to the classroom’s instructional day- basically running the Social Studies lesson, in a pinch.  Next week, I will be in training for two days, so hopefully the others will not run out of their own ideas.

Random thoughts- Has anyone read Jerzy Kosinski’s “Being There”?  It is a tale of a novice running for President, and being elected.  Sound familiar? My preferred candidate asked a news analyst, “What’s Aleppo?”  I am disappointed.  I knew what Aleppo was, and where it was, when I was 11.  This candidate needs a crash course in geography.  We must not be content to “all go into the garden.”

The people who thought that another candidate would be the poster child for the resurgence of ignorance, are finding out that he senses an actual chance of winning the Presidency, and is thus refining his efforts.  Whether this will work for him is anyone’s guess.  Many feel that a leopard does not change its spots.

I am opposed to people acting out of ignorance. When I have so lapsed, the reaction has been swift and brutal.  Take the time to enlighten yourself, before, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “opening your mouth, and removing all doubt” ,(about being thought a fool).

 

Once Upon A Time, In St. Cloud

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Posted by on in children, Poetry, Spiritual

September 6, 2016, Prescott-

Once upon a time, in St. Cloud, a trio of boys went on an errand.

An unsettled, angry man went on an errand of his own.

Two boys made it home that night.

So did the man,

but not before he had made sure that the third boy

would only go home to his Lord.

Once upon a time, in Boulder, a little girl looked forward

to her seventh Christmas.

Someone, still unknown to us,

had other ideas.

She now spends her Christmases, and all her days,

at the right hand of her Lord.

Once upon a time, in Salt Lake City,

a young woman was imprisoned,

in plain sight.

Sharp-eyed people noted her burden,

and freed her.

Now, she has a husband who loves her dearly.

In these days, how many remain in “prison”,

or are interred, with no clue in the public mind,

as to “whodunnit”?

RIP, Jacob Wetterling.

RIP, JonBenet Ramsey.

Elizabeth, glad you’re still among us.

On Juniper Mesa

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inspiration, Striving

 

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Juniper Mesa, from George Wood Canyon

September 4, 2016, Walnut Creek, AZ-  This settlement is only intermittently populated, when researchers from Arizona’s public universities, and Prescott College, show up to conduct their monitoring of the high desert’s overall health, in an area far from any permanent, sizable human community.  A few ranches break the landscape and, indeed, one of those ranches, just west of Juniper Mesa’s main trailhead, is sealed off from anyone not associated with its operation.

I came out here, in mid-afternoon, to explore the sky island known as Juniper Mesa.  The place was, in the 1870’s and 80’s, a military encampment, an extension of Prescott’s Fort Whipple.  It was, to the cavalrymen of the time, the perfect spot for a railway station, with the route commencing in Prescott, going through Del Rio (now Chino Valley) and pushing clear to the Colorado River, at Hardyville (now Bullhead City) and, from there, to San Pedro, one of the ports serving Los Angeles.  The railroad was built, but it went north, to Ash Fork, then to Seligman and Kingman, connecting with a much larger, transcontinental track, the Santa Fe.

 

So, Juniper Mesa has reverted to a lonesomeness.  I was the only person on the trail today.  Fortunately, I have come to expect that, even in areas closer to Prescott.  The large pack, with an ample water supply, a first aid kit, two knives, a detailed topographic map and a sturdy flashlight, along with one of my trusty walking sticks, has been an integral part of my communes with nature.  What has occasionally caused chuckles, from the smug hipsters doing lakeside botanical and entomological research in Prescott’s city parks, is, to me, a must on any hike lasting more than an hour.  Besides, it wasn’t too long ago, that one of those individuals had to be rescued from Watson Lake Park, a ten-minute walk from a North Prescott business district, because she was dehydrated and delirious.

I saw fairly fresh horse-hoof prints, along the way and smelled fresh bobcat urine, trail side, closer to evening, but it was the insects and I who had the place to ourselves, from all outward seeming.  Juniper Mesa could be for lovers, but so far, it is for the soloists.

I used three trails, in the course of my loop hike:  Oaks and Willows; Juniper Mesa (rim)  and the steep Bull Spring Trail.  Oaks and Willows meets Walnut Creek Road (County Road 125), proceeds through the lush George Wood Canyon to the top of Juniper Mesa, then branches off to the northeast.

Here are some scenes of Oaks and Willows.

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Broad trail, along the Oaks and Willows, Juniper Mesa

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Thick scrub, George Wood Canyon, Juniper Mesa Wilderness

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View across George Wood Canyon

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Sign, gnawed by black bears, over several years

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Heart of George Wood Canyon, Juniper Mesa Wilderness

Once atop the mesa, I basically followed Juniper Mesa Rim Trail, though finding it rather sparse, in several places.  Horse trails, though, are easy to identify by their indentation into the ground.

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Alligator Juniper, top of Juniper Mesa.  I almost see a parrot’s face, in the branch stump.

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Bear image, small sandstone, Juniper Mesa Rim Trail

Bears are reported to be common here, but I saw no sign of them- not even old scat.  They are probably further north, or in areas more sheltered from the lightning that hits Juniper Mesa frequently, during the monsoon season, that is in hiatus for several days.

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Lightning-struck tree, Juniper Mesa Rim Trail

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Lightning-struck piece of limestone, and heart rock, Juniper Mesa Rim Trail

The rock above was given a fierce countenance, by a recent lightning strike.

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Cairn, Juniper Mesa Rim Trail

Large cairns mark Juniper Mesa Rim Trail, at several points, especially after Oaks and Willows Trail branches off to the north.  A half-mile further east, I bid farewell to the benign rout along the rim, and began the descent, on steep Bull Springs Trail.

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View of Walnut Creek settlement and the Santa Maria Range, from Bull Spring Trail

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Hazy view of Walnut Creek settlement, from Bull Spring Trail

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Limestone cliff, east end of Juniper Mesa

The cliffs seen above, and in the next photo, were redoubts for Yavapai and Hualapai warriors, who resisted the U.S. Cavalry in the 1870’s.

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Limestone cliffs, east end of Juniper Mesa

After climbing down from the mesa top, I followed Bull Spring Trail, into the darkness.  Although it was along this trail, that I smelled the bobcat’s markings, the animal itself stayed out of sight, and only small insects, attracted by the flashlight’s beam, showed me any interest.  It took careful attention for me to find the last trail sign, returning to the nub of Oaks and Willows Trail that led me to the car, but I enjoyed a very deep sleep tonight- far from Juniper Mesa.

This is one of several places, in the middle of Arizona’s “nowhere”, that have been on my hiker’s list, in the wake of having completed Prescott Circle.  Stay tuned for others.

 

Labour Day Saturday

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Posted by on in Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Uncategorized

September 3, 2016, Prescott-  How does one go about a fine day, with a cash shortage until Wednesday?  Well, I made sure there was plenty of food in the house, with a brief visit to the wonderful Prescott Farmers’ Market. A long-standing pile of recycling was divvied-up, among its various recipients.  A large pile of laundry  found cleanliness. I also paid off overdue bills from summer, the last period I will ever be without a steady flow of cash.  Of course, there will be a short few days of adjustment, as different ones present their charges, between now and the 7th.  That means one more windfall for the bank, but no matter- it’ll be the last such one.  I will tell  them not to spend it all in one place.  After the 7th of September, all’s well again.

My word is the most important thing.  I will go to the greatest of lengths to keep a promise.  That has meant other forms of deprivation, (social and with regard to time).  It all pays off in the end, when others keep their word to me.  I have, in any case, resolved to never again repeat the reneging on a promise, such as we had to execute in March, 2010.  Six months from this coming Saturday, my atonement from that broken promise will be complete.

Tonight found me at Planet Fitness, with a nearly empty exercise area.  It’s helping greatly; the belly that was getting ample over the summer is again shrinking steadily.  Of course, my return to regular hiking will also keep things in check, as will a renewed sense of portion control and no longer giving in to others pushing desserts on me, so that they themselves don’t feel guilty about indulging.  We could all do better, in that regard.

Tomorrow, I will enjoy two gatherings with friends, but then will come a climb up Juniper Mesa, and my first night hike in a couple of years.

 

The Thick Accent

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Posted by on in impediments, Poetry, Social, Striving

September 2, 2016, Prescott-

(A brief thought, on a sultry night, in which I am lying low.)

You cannot understand, why I take up for men in blue.

Do  you not see, that the worst among them represent what will happen,

should the best among them feel abandoned.

You say, “But you don’t understand, that WE don’t understand

their tendency to rush to judgment, and juryhood.

The police speak a language that is indecipherable, in these parts.

This is a language of both words and gestures, often simultaneous with one another.

Their speech and body language, are hard to understand.”

Hmm.  I see the problem of dealing with snap decisions.

The police officer weighs in on the young men gathered up ahead.

“I think I’ll need backup- and have a bus ready.

You never know what tricks some of THEM may have up their sleeves,” he opines,

as the air feels thick with words and gestures, from one and foreign to the other.

I, the translator and peacemaker, get weary- as well as wary.

They Wish

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Posted by on in Personal Values, Poetry, Social, Striving

September 1, 2016, Prescott- 

There are those who view me only as a perpetual motion machine,

and only stop by here, when I’m on the road.

They wish for a byline other than Prescott.

There are those outside the chain of command at my school,

who insert themselves, loudly,

into every step, or misstep, they see my co-workers and I making.

They wish for more people to be under their thumbs.

There are those who would turn back the clock of society,

and stir the pot of public ignorance, at every turn.

They wish for a world that no longer exists,

and which did not really serve its inhabitants all that well.

There are those, the children and young adults,

who will inherit any mess that comes about,

as a result of reckless meddling and mindless ignorance.

They wish to be respected and heard.

There are those who work, diligently, for a better tomorrow,

and who don’t let the clamour of the nonsensical deter them.

They wish for a world that attains its fruition.

There are we, who see each soul as more valuable,

than even he or she might see, in the midst of darkness.

We wish for all to see the Universe, in its true splendour.

You Matter, Too

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Posted by on in Community, Personal goals, Personal Values

August 30-31, 2016, Prescott-  Tomorrow, my Facebook page will have “Blue Lives Matter”, in the profile pic. This does NOT mean that I have suddenly discarded my conviction that Black Lives Matter, Vivas Latinas Importan, or that the world needs Native Americans.

My life has always mattered- to me, to my family, to my core group of friends from adolescence and to countless others met along the way, ever since.  I can’t remember ever really feeling unloved, even in fleeting moments of self-pity.  Worshiping Boous Hoous wouldn’t have gotten me very far, anyway.  I also can’t remember a time when I was truly destitute, in terms of quality human friendships.

Too many, however, can’t say the same.  Too many parents and spouses place conditions on their love.  Too many children are taught that it is harshness and hardness which bring about success in life. Too many in positions of authority, from teachers to police officers, are taught that stridency is the way to bring about obedience, whilst humility is for wimps. Too many, in positions of trust, are deluded by programs and scripts that don’t serve anyone other than the executives of the corporations which dream up these programs and scripts.  Too many vacillate between “Less (staff) is more” and “More (clientele per worker) is optimal.”   Thus Child Protection Agencies, schools and counseling services are operating with insanely unwieldy worker/client ratios.  Too many civil servants and elected officials are encouraged to place themselves above the needs of the people whom they represent.

The truth is, each of us matters- as much as the next.  It has always been so, in the eyes of the Creator.  Black lives matter, too.  Vivas Latinas se importan, tambien.  White lives have never been seen as not mattering.  Native American lives deserve to be valued, a lot more than they seem to be, even today.  Asians, Pacific Islanders, Australian Aboriginals, “Mixed Races” of all kinds matter, also.

One does NOT matter, to the exclusion of others.  The misguided young man who told a Black girl in Buckeye, Arizona, two days ago, that her life and those of her fellows in BLM do not matter, is living in a deluded construct of the past, which can never be successfully revived.

The truth, inconvenient only to those whose own self-loathing  is couched in racism, is that the world is showing us its true nature: There is but one human race, and we all need to get along.  There is no going back, anymore than there is a successful outcome to driving in reverse on a freeway.

I support Blue Lives Matter, because too many decent, hard-working peace officers die on the job.  I support Black Lives Matter because too many decent people of colour are dying young, often at the hands of those who look like them.

My life matters, so does yours.

 

One Less Smile

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Posted by on in Entertainment, Inspiration, Poetry

August 29, 2016, Prescott- 

Far from here, in an historic colonial house,

a funny man breathed his last, today.

There is so much,

and there are so many roles,

by which to remember him.

Like all comics, he was complex.

Like anyone who knew joy,

and then lost it,

he felt anger at that loss.

Like anyone who became known

for a particular role,

he longed for the next project,

the one which would give him his due.

Like anyone who learned to love again,

he held on to that love,

and gave it back,

in spades.

Frederick Frankenstein,

Willy Wonka,

The Waco Kid,

Max Bloom,

Gene Wilder.

Jerome Silberman gave us all a long run,

of both laughs and tears.

Shalom, Jerome.