The Road to 65, Mile 106: For Profit

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March 14, 2015, Prescott– I spent much of today organizing my photos on my Flickr account (https://www.flickr.com/photos/86298326@N07/).  Those who wish to check the various albums out, are welcome.  Further progress occurred in settling my de facto client, into a positive living situation.  He feels welcome there, and has secured a niche.  I gained more insight into the depth of his personal suffering, so the healing is taking root.

My focus for this evening, here, is the mercantile nature of just about everything, these days.  Some in government believe it is their agencies’ duty to support the economic aspects of their particular area of purview.  Mental health agencies, and some hospitals, place the profits of insurance companies and of their umbrella agencies above the well-being of individual clients, patients, participants- or whatever the nom de jour of their clientele happens to be.

While having dinner this evening, in a local restaurant, I overheard the people at the table in front of me noting, with some disdain, just how mercenary the government, and multinational companies have become, about everything from water to one’s last rites.  I know that Nestle has tried to take over drinking water supplies in some small communities and has sued the people, to force them to give up their water supply to its bottling arm.  I haven’t heard anything on that matter lately, so maybe Swiss rationality has drawn the conclusion that this is overreach.  Monsanto has sent its legal eagles after other small communities, and small farmers, to force its seeds and farming practices on them- with the ever-present threat of a lawsuit, or an unwanted visit from Bill Nye the Science Guy, to intimidate and dominate.

I have heard, more than once, that the mission of the US Food and Drug Administration is to protect the economic aspects of  our nation’s food and pharmaceutical supplies.  This, naturally, means protection of large industrial concerns, in those areas.  Here, it is a wave of contributions to re-election campaigns, rather than attorneys threatening to bankrupt the little guys, that does the trick.  I don’t make any distinction here between the Koch Brothers and George Soros.  Both camps are quite capable of pushing their own agendas on the political class.

My dining neighbours questioned everything from bottled water to 401K’s.  I tend to agree, more and more, with the idea that one can make do with relative simplicity.  Having spent my last night on the road in a campground, in perfect contentment, I will be glad to expand on that more, in weekend jaunts later this Spring.  Having become quite good at stretching my meals, while still achieving satiety and maintaining health, I am confident this regimen will continue. My IRA will stay healthy, with or without the scaredy cats on Wall Street.

The coming months and years will see a re-working of the term “For Profit”.  Real profit is a tide that lifts all boats.

The Road to 65, Mile 105: Bullies

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March 13, 2015, Chino Valley-  When I was growing up, there were two kinds of bullies in  my life, neither of them overly prominent.  The first type were those of low self-esteem, who sought to spread their misery among scrawny, unathletic kids like me.  The second were Type A’s, kids, and a few adults, whose intentions were honest- to “help me reach my potential”.  They were overbearing, though, when more patient encouragement would have worked better.

I thought of them this evening, as eight adults and a child were having a dinner time conversation on the general topic of bullying.  The little girl said she didn’t get bullied much, but she stood her ground when she was and defended others, when they were being harassed.  Several of us pointed out that criticism is a life-time thing, as each of us has different perspectives on any given topic and each of us has areas of insecurity.

I would occasionally find myself wandering into bullying territory, but each time it felt awful and I pulled back.  The whole tender-heart thing won, in the end.  Once, I even had a dream, when I was about 19 or so, of having the opportunity to kill a brutish tyrant.  I couldn’t bring myself to do it and offered him mercy, instead.  The surprised brute limped away and didn’t seem to be in any mood to bother anyone after that.

I know many will read the above and think, “Yeah, sure.  A leopard does not change its spots.”  We’ve seen how that works- Saddam, after the First Gulf War; various dictators, after assassination attempts gone awry.  I have also seen bullies’ hearts change, usually after their own insecurities get mended.  In fact, I can’t think of one of my tormentors who, having grown up and taken on a wider view of things, still harbours anger and a twisted desire to inflict pain.  In real world terms, I guess I am more exception than rule, but people do outgrow their misanthropy.

Bottom line, for now:  Human hearts can change.  It most often takes patience, and the example of understanding, mixed with firmness of resolve, to turn a tormentor into a friend.

The Road to 65, Mile 104: Stubborness

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March 12, 2015, Prescott-  I got a good rest today, it being still Spring Break until Monday.  Having a base to  which I may return is always a comfort.  I will likely be free from a short-term obligation, after tomorrow, and will be able to take on more work, until summer comes around.  That will make me a familiar face in the local charter schools, as well as the public institutions.

I am, by nature, a flexible soul.  There are certain things about which I won’t budge, but all in all, I believe, as I said earlier, in going with the flow.  I am finding a few people, one of whom would like to depend on me, to a large extent, to be quite stubborn,when it comes to avoiding responsibility for their own lives and making necessary changes.

I suppose that’s human nature.  We get comfortable and expect things to stay the same, in perpetuity.  To me, though, not monitoring a situation and adjusting, as needed, is the lowest form of selfishness.  No one can live, fully, as if others don’t have a right to their own lives and dreams.  This selfishness comes out, of course, in everything from theft to road rage.

No one is entitled, pure and simple, to anything that belongs to someone else, be it possessions, dreams, or, in the case of someone outside the family, time.

The Road to 65, Mile 103: Glo’s Asteroids

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Travel

March 11, 2015, Palm Desert-  After a restful night under the stars at Oak Grove Campground, near Aguanga, CA, I made the drive back up to Palomar Mountain, and the Caltech Observatory.  The story of this first great West Coast astronomical site is the story of George Hale, its first chief astronomer;

SAM_4567 of Kurt Zwicky and Maarten Schmidt, who developed telescopes and focused on far-flung galaxies;

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“Glo”, as she was endearingly called by her co-workers at Palomar, had an intense focus on asteroids.  Her Near-Earth Asteroid Tracking project resulted in the discovery of 872 asteroids, including # 3267, which was named Glo, in her honour.  Because of her work, which ended only with her passing in 2009, NASA has summoned enough interest within its ranks to have sent probes to the Kuyper Belt, and has found such orbs as an asteroid with its own moon, a find which surely must delight “Glo”, in the Spirit Realm.  She deserves to be in the ranks of all those women who inspire girls to pursue their dreams, regardless of the heights those dreams seek to reach.

I spent about ninety minutes walking and reading in the Observatory Museum (Here is the original 1930 telescope, made by Bernhardt Schmidt).SAM_4561 and the Gallery, on the first two floors of the Observatory itself, then took in the surroundings.

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Here is the Hale Telescope’s home.SAM_4565

This small telescope, off-limits to the public, is ancillary to the Hale Telescope’s work.

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I spent a few minutes afterward,  checking out the base of a California Live Oak, and observing woodpeckers at their craft, in the picnic area.

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On the way down the mountain, there is a memorial to a firefighter from Picuris, NM, who was one of those killed in the 1999  La Jolla Fire, so-named for its devastation of the nearby La Jolla Reservation, of the Luiseno people.

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An overlook near the memorial shows the outline of the Laguna and Cuyamaca Mountains, which comprise San Diego’s highest peaks.SAM_4577

Near the area leading east to the Colorado Desert, lies Lake Henshaw, a reservoir behind an earthen dam, that draws birds and sportsmen alike.

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The desert emerged, about an hour or so later, after I navigated a seven-mile series of switchbacks, through the San Jacinto Wilderness.

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At the San Jacinto Visitor Center, I was greeted by a pleasant-looking jackrabbit.

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Creosote and primrose are blossoming.

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The smoke trees, though, do not.

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With the Visitor Center closed, due to illness, I headed the rest of the way back to Prescott- and 2 1/2 months or so of working to replenish my resources.

The Road to 65, Mile 102: Three Beaches

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Travel

March 10, 2015, Dana Point- I began the day innocently enough, letting myself out of the apartment of two young men, who were already at work, making two trips from hallway to car.  My first stop of the day:  Fletcher Cove, at Solana Beach, one of the few Southern California beach towns I had never seen up close.  Fletcher Cove Park was busy with several parents and children, as San Diego County has Spring Break this week, as does Arizona.

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I chose to investigate the south strand of Solana’s public beach area, part of the one-mile stretch donated by the town’s developer, as well as the “Dog Beach”, even further south.

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Note that the tide was coming in, quickly.SAM_4500

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This walkway evoked Crystal Cove, further up the coast in Newport Beach.

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Not sure of the name of this bird, but it was a curious, friendly sort.

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Colour is found is the most unexpected places.

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People persist in living on the edge here, as elsewhere in SoCal, and for a premium.

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The tide reached its high point, as I crossed this ledge.

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Solana’s colourful cliffs are kin to those of the desert, which is actually not so far away.

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It appears sea gulls have found it hard to maintain a chevron.

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A mother pointed out to her daughter, that sometimes plants can appear lazy.  Fletcher Cove has this relaxing park, near its central overlook.

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As with so many SoCal towns, Solana Beach has something to offer a repeat visitor: The north beach of Fletcher Cove;  maybe in July.

I drove up the coast to San Diego County’s northernmost strand:  San Onofre.

This is a State Beach, so it’s a $15 day fee.  San Onofre is a surfer’s beach, and there were many people in the water.  Kayakers abounded, and while there were mainly single adults here, a smattering of families were enjoying the relatively calm water.

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Surfer music, palm trees and replicated Hawaiian totems cast an South Pacific aura.

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The state beach lies between the gradually-being-decomissioned nuclea power plant, to the south, and Camp Pendleton, to the north.  Walkers are allowed on the north end of San Onofre Beach, which is inside Camp Pendleton, provided they remain below the berm cliffs.

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I ended my beach day with a brief visit to familiar Dana Point Harbor, where I met my friend, Janet (not pictured).  While waiting for her, I made note of the clarity of the harbour water,

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and of several pelicans, who were chasing fishing boats that were coming into the marina.

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Janet and I did not see our favourite blue herons, though there were tell-tale nests in the thinned-out eucalyptus.  We visited for a while, then I headed inland- to the different magic of the oaks and pines.

The Road to 65, Mile 101: Insensitivity

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Posted by on in Social, Travel

March 9, 2015, San Diego- All in all, today was a lovely day in this, one of my favourite cities.  I had a nice visit with my brother, who had come from the Atlanta area, for a fortnight’s worth of business.  Our talk ranged from his intermediate term plans to my own long-range goals.  Basically, our conclusions were that each of us should be happy and responsible- and that the two were complementary to one another.

After he left, to go back to his work for the day, I pondered the whole matter of why some folks just can’t put themselves in another’s shoes, as we siblings do for each other, all the time.  It could be upbringing, or it could be a character defect-as with several people I have met over the years, as well as recently.

I drove from Mission Bay, where I had met with my brother, to Seaport Village, a pleasant collection of shops and restaurants near Embarcadero Park.  After getting a couple of pastries and a coffee, to be enjoyed later, I stopped and listened to an a capella choir of nine young men, who were singing a potpourri of popular songs from the ’50’s and ’60’s.  They did each song justice, ranging from The Platters’ “Only You” to The Four Seasons’ “Sherry Baby”.  After an hour or so along Embarcadero, I met up with Aram, went back to the pad for a rest and then we went over to L & L’s Hawaiian Barbecue, for simple and fabulous island fare.

My after dinner browsing brought forth two disturbing cultural insensitivity incidents.  One, at Santa Barbara Community College, was a promotion for a group of engineering students having devised a rather tacky looking tipi-like structure, with windows, out of which a couple of the kiddies were leaning out, and grinning for the camera.  This has brought reactions, ranging from eye-rolling to loud calls for dismantling the structure.  I believe it is “playing Indian”, and some gentle, but firm, cultural lessons are in order. We are no longer in the 1950’s.

Cross the Atlantic Ocean, and in Rome, two Americans were definitely not doing as the Romans do.  They carved their initials in a section of the Colosseum, and were promptly detained by the Caribinieri.  I like that.  We are in a global society and do need to treat each nation’s treasures, as they are indeed our own.

ISIS is cultural and historical insensitivity, writ large.  Extremists, the world over, long to demolish mankind’s historical legacy- and a good deal of our present-day humanity along with it.  It goes without saying that decent and noble people have to stand up to these maniacs.  It is foolhardy to excuse them, as some have done, by saying “Well, they are just doing what’s in their hearts”.  BALDERDASH!  They have become disconnected from their hearts.  There is no way the Assyrian historical record should be gone from us, as so much of it has, in recent days. Where they will stop is really up to the international community, at this point.

Insensitivity only bolsters walls which need to be brought down, and the remnants made into bridges and roads.

The Road to 65, Mile 100: Cowles Mountain

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Travel

March 8, 2015, San Diego- This morning found me up early, as is customary during the Baha’i Fast, which falls between March 2-20.  Getting a solid breakfast at Gramma’s Country Kitchen, my favourite restaurant in Banning, and enjoying watching as the team got everything ready for what promised to be a busy Sunday after-church crowd, I rolled out of Banning relatively early.  The drive through Hemet and Menifee, then on down to San Diego, was smooth and uneventful, save for an overturned semi-trailer, near MiraMesa.

Aram and I both rested for a bit; he, because of having had watch, last night and I, because it was Noon and fasting makes a 30-minute nap especially important.  At 2 PM, we headed out to Cowles Mountain, in Mission Trails Park, on the east side of town.  It is the highest peak within the city limits.

I was my usual self, maintaining a steady pace and taking lots of photos.  It had been a while since I hiked uphill, so it was a rather decent cardio workout.

Here are a few photos, before I put the lot of them in Flickr. Aram, feeling in need of a brisk start, blazed ahead, with my blessing.

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We had fine views of San Diego, to the southwest, and the Cuyamaca Range, to the east.

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The scrub and sandstone were our hosts, and there were dozens of hikers out enjoying the picture-postcard afternoon.

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Lake Murray, a reservoir that is part of Mission Trails Park, is visible from the south face of Cowles Mountain.  It is a popular fishing and boating venue for San Diegans.

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I reached the top in about forty minutes.  It being 83 out, the sweat was not shy about making itself known.

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George Cowles, a pioneer in the area in the 1870’s, lent his name to the mountain.SAM_4482

On the way down, I got a better sense of the alignment of various boulders.  They are almost like family groupings.

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At the foot of Cowles Mountain, near a covered trash barrel, I spotted this canyon, in which lurked- a Sandbag Boa Constrictor! 🙂

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This was a truly fine day, capped by dinner at Zorba’s, a Greek cafe between the airport and Point Loma.  San Diego never disappoints.  Neither does my son.

The Road to 65, Mile 99: Bloody Sunday

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social, Travel

March 7, 2015, Banning-  In July, 2011, I happened by Selma, AL, and spent a day walking around the city, crossing the Edmund L. Pettis Bridge, looking over and seeing the Alabama River, which, miraculously, did not claim any lives on March 7, 1965, though humans took the lives of other humans, over a period of three weeks.  I spoke with a ranger at the Selma Civil Rights National Historical Site, who noted that race relations were a tad better now than they were during the immediate aftermath of the turmoil.  Paying my respects at the Viola Liuzzo Memorial, near Hayneville, I pondered that people change their behaviour at the behest of outside influences, such as the government, but not until their hearts change, are the objects of their disdain even remotely safe.

We have made some progress, in getting along, over the years.  There are more people of colour in my hometown of Saugus, MA, than when I was growing up.  I was raised not to think disparagingly of others, based on race, much less to speak so.  Quite frankly, I felt as shocked and disappointed when Malcolm X (who my father thought was making good changes in his life) and Martin Luther King, Jr. were executed.  Yes, both, in my mind, were acts of officially-sanctioned murder- as the assassinations of  John and Robert Kennedy probably were, also.

People in Prescott, my current home, are outwardly accepting of others, regardless of race. Yet, I have it on good authority (from a racist-in-recovery, no less), that many in the town are still emotionally stuck in the 1950’s and ’60’s, if not in the Jim Crow Era.

To say that we are all racist, to some degree is an overstatement- and a dodge.  Everyone does need to work on raising their consciousness level, but that applies across the board, not just with respect to how we deal with those of other ethnicities and pigmentation.

I am spending tonight in Banning, a city in western Riverside County, CA.  Banning had serious trouble during both Los Angeles riots, though it seems to have quieted quite alot, in the few times I have been here since 1992.  Quiet,though, does not necessarily mean peace.

I would be overjoyed to see people interact positively with each other, regardless of background, on a regular basis.  I do see more of that with Millennials and Post- Millennials, and hope and pray that this will remain a lifelong habit for those generations- and that the rest of us remember the idealism of our own youth, and ponder just what it is that has deflected that idealism.  We’re not done growing, yet.

The Road to 65, Mile 98: Past Square One

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

March 6, 2015, Prescott- Two events that occurred today, made me think of the need for perseverance.  The individual whom I’ve been helping, these past four months, made a heartfelt solicitation of work this morning, while we were heading back to his campsite, to retrieve my car and other items he had left in the area.  We had circled around the park, so as to determine a closer route to his campsite, in forming his game plan for this evening.  This made going around the long way to my car, necessary.  He took interest in a home that was in serious disrepair, and seemed to connect with the owner, and to have obtained work.  After  I left them to discuss their business arrangement, one disagreement after another ended up derailing the whole thing.

The second was an e-mail from a prospective employer of mine, which had been stalling on calling me for an interview.  The message essentially said that those in whom the employer was interested, had already been called, and interviews were being set up.  Since none of those was yours truly, I will move on and contact the area charter schools, after Spring Break, so as to add to my job options, besides Prescott and Chino Valley Public Schools.

I spent the better part of today listening to my de facto client, working through some of his long-standing issues. Some of these got in his way, in today’s effort to find work; others have just made him miserable for a lot longer.  While I remain a solitary figure, by choice, a balance is being struck with the legitimate needs of those around me.  The person with whom I am working right now does have serious boundary and transference issues, and it has taken the patience of Job, at times, to maintain my life of choice. I think he is coming to understand me, and respect my choices.

The silver lining is that he has gotten me to take care of a few practical organizational matters, which I might otherwise have continued to blow off.  There is value in all things.

The Road to 65, Mile 97: Points in Heaven

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Posted by on in Personal goals

March 5, 2015, Prescott:  Today marks four years since my beloved wife passed out of all her suffering.  As luck would have it, there was no work for me today, with Spring Break approaching.  So, I’ve been reflecting, since about 5 AM, as to what she may be feeling, in her place among the angels.  I get messages from her, all the time though, about what I might do, where I might spend time and with whom, and which direction my life ought to take.

When I had my tax bill calculated by my CPA, a few days ago, he said that while my charitable contributions and acts might get me points in heaven, they won’t get me any points with the government.  He expressed concern about how I might live, when I reach my 70’s and 80’s.

Truth is, my charitable acts and contributions, being those of one person, can only go so far and do just so much good.  There will always be a need, far greater than what I can offer, what any one of us can give.  Maybe that’s why each of us is inundated with phone calls and e-mails, most of which have to be turned down.

As to my life later on, the age-old, “One day at a time” adage does need to be balanced with efforts to keep working, as long as body and mind allow and there are the instructions I get from the Spirit Realm to keep focused- on the community,on family, on the road, path and trail and on the Greater Vision, which gets unfolded to me, one step at a time.

If 70 finds me needing a cheaper place to lay my head at night, I know where to find it. If my diamond birthday comes, and living alone is too much, then I will find a community which will take me in, in return for doing my fair share.  Money has its place in life, but is far from all.

A friend asked, yesterday, “What is the meaning of life?”  I answered “Embracing life’s mysteries”.  This is another way of saying “To know and serve God”, which we Baha’is hold as the essence of life’s purpose.  I feel it is what brought solace to Penny, in her final days here, and has kept her in peace ever since.  She will help me understand more mysteries, as time moves on, and when there is no more time.