The Road to 65, Mile 224: Light of the World

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July 10, 2015, Prescott- Today, we Baha’is observed the 165th anniversary of the Martyrdom of al-Bab. On July 10, 1850, the Persian government, at the behest of powerful clerics, conducted the execution of Siyyid Ali-Muhammad, given the title al-Bab “The Gate”, in Arabic.

Briefly, He was Forerunner to Baha’u’llah, the Founder of our Faith.   Al-Bab challenged the orthodoxy of Islam, noting how far it had strayed from the Teachings of Muhammad. He called for the purification of the human heart, as an essential prerequisite to the dawning of an Age, in which the human race would become unified, and would enjoy the Kingdom of God on Earth, as promised by Jesus the Christ.

This won Him the allegiance of thousands of Persians and Arabs, and the admiring notice of many Europeans. It also won Him the enmity of those whose vested interests were threatened by such a call to change.

The execution did not proceed without a hitch. Al-Bab warned his captors that He would not depart this life until He had completed certain matters, with his secretary. They took Him out to the killing plaza, anyway, and He was joined by a young man, who insisted he be allowed to die, alongside al-Bab. The firing squad commander, who was Christian, pleaded with al-Bab that he not be forced to complete the execution.

Al-Bab responded “Follow your instructions, and if your intention be sincere, the Almighty is surely able to relieve you from your perplexity.” Thus did it transpire, that the volleys were fired, and when the smoke had cleared, al-Bab and his devotee were found, not dead on the ground, but alive, and with al-Bab in a room with His secretary, completing His business!

Once this was finished, al-Bab and the young follower submitted to again being escorted to the execution zone. This time, a Muslim commander ordered his regiment to carry out the volley. The bodies of the al-Bab and His devotee were fused together, with only their heads untouched by the bullets.

With the complicity of the prison yard’s guards, some other followers of al-Bab spirited the remains out of the area. These were carried, from place to place, in secrecy, for 59 years, until ‘Abdu’l-Baha, the eldest son of Baha’u’llah, placed them in a vault, in a crypt on the slopes of Mount Carmel, near Haifa, in what is now Israel, in 1909. The remains so rest, today, in the magnificent structure, known as the Shrine of Al-Bab, or “The Bab”, as He is called, in English.

I view this series of events as further evidence of the re-appearance of Divine Light in the world, just as it appeared at the time of Christ, before that, in the times of Moses, Krishna and Buddha, and after that, in the days when Muhmmad walked the Earth. That mankind chose half-measures, in embracing the Teachings of these Sacred Beings, does not take away from the efficacy of those Truths. God is nothing if not patient, though. He certainly has been so with me, and is no less so with the human race as whole.

The Road to 65, Mile 210: Oregon’s Multivariate “Big East”

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June 26, 2015, Lakeview, OR- This day started in the sere brownness of Ontario, in the heart of the Great Basin, above the Snake River. It was not too hot, as I made my way over to Gandolfi’s New York-style Deli, the closest thing in the Riverside area of Ontario, to a coffee shop. The fare was satisfying, though the atmosphere was more motel breakfast room than comfy cafe.

This is an irrigated agricultural area, and the landscape thus shows a striking contrast of colours.003 004

The small village of Vale, southwest of Ontario, is the seat of Malheur County, of which Ontario is the commercial hub. Vale has a small historical museum, which was not open when I passed through, but was worth a look at the exterior. Eastern Oregon still has an Old West ambiance, in many places.

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The Malheur River waters the area, gathering its tributaries, west of Vale, then heading towards the Snake River, south of Ontario.

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After going through a barren section, once past the Malheur, there is a scrub pine forest that leads the way south, towards Burns. This area reminded me a lot of central Arizona, just as the Snake River near Ontario resembles the Colorado, in western Arizona.014

Burns, named for the great Scottish poet, Robert Burns, is a quiet, but charming little town, about two hours east of Bend. I was warmly welcomed at Broadway Deli, a bustling local hangout with freshly-made soups and sandwiches. The ranchers also say it has great breakfasts. All I know is, I could have stayed all day.

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Once south of Burns, and its smaller sister city, Hines, the desert takes over again. Ninety minutes later, I was in awe of the sere beauty of shrinking Lake Abert. This alkaline lake is inhabited mostly by brine shrimp.

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There are numerous iron-oxide infused basalt boulders on its eastern shore, which the Oregon Outback Highway passes.

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Just as Oregon and California meet, the Warner Mountains look over Lakeview. As I was coming into town, I spotted an Arabian horse, at the roadside fence, nervously shuffling on his back right haunch. Fearing he might be stuck, I went back to the driveway, where the owner went with me over to the pasture, and determined it was the beast’s arthritis acting up. He was grateful for my concern, and hopefully tended to the poor creature.

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A section of California took me through the rest of the afternoon. Alturas is a small gateway community, with an Ag-Inspection Station, a dusty main street and Hotel Niles, an early 20th Century railroad stop.

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I continued on, getting gas at the village of Standish and settling in for the night in Susanville, so named for the nearby Susan River. Both are named for Susan Roop, the daughter of an early settler. “Susan” was fairly lively when I first got there, as there was a country music festival at Lassen County Fairgrounds. It wrapped up at 9 P.M., though, and most of the people there were my age or older. It had been a lengthy drive today, and the car needed a good rest, so before checking out the tail-end of the hoedown, I had some fish fry at Kopper Kettle and took a room at nearby Frontier Inn. Tomorrow, I will head over to Reno, for a day or so, and catch up with the Nevada Family.

The Road to 65, Mile 223: Cataracts of the Mind’s Eye

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July 9, 2015, Prescott- Random reactions to ill-considered provocations:

She- “You  don’t lust for me, therefore you don’t love me. So, I hate you!”

I- “There are four kinds of love. None of them requires lust. I hate no one, actually.”

Another- “Religion is darkness. It is domination of one by the others.”

I- “Dogma, man-made divisiveness, is darkness. Faith, purity of heart, is Light upon Light.”

A cursory reader- “You are being redundant. Who cares about Chinese people in darkest Idaho?”

I- “There is something to be learned, to be treasured, in each place, or circumstance, in which we find ourselves.”

The Road to 65, Mile 222: Obfuscation

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July 8, 2015, Prescott- 

A little verse, because I am tired, vexed, annoyed with certain people.  Thankfully, they are far from here.

You summon me

To follow my baser passions

And when I say,

“No, I’m good”,

you say “Hater!”

Muddy the waters.

Turn the tables.

Doesn’t make you right.

Truth, will come out,

like sunflowers in autumn.

The Road to 65, Mile 209: A Triangle of Towns, Part 3- Lewiston and Its Two Rivers

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June 25, 2015, Lewiston, ID- This eastern half of the Lewis and Clark twin cities announces itself from a place at the foot of winding path, coming down a steep desert hillside.

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Like so many Inland Northwest towns, Lewiston presents a charming and arts-oriented downtown.  Named for Meriwether Lewis, it has, as a centerpiece, Lewis and Clark State College’s Center for Arts and History

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Revolving art exhibits take center stage, on the first floor. On the day I visited, the Sandpoint-based artist, Kelly Price, offered an astonishing array of Sacred Circles, making a very strong case for the interconnectedness of all things in the Universe and the security which may be found within an orb. Ms. Price’s exhibit clearly shows the universality of the notion that the circle, symbol of completion, is universally held sacred. (As is my practice, no photos were taken of her exhibit, nor of the presentation of Scott Kirby.)

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Scott Kirby, a pianist based in Boulder, CO, transitioned into painting scenes of the Great Plains, after an afternoon of drawing and painting with his daughter. The flow of his art work certainly evoked a vibrant musical background.

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On the second floor of the Center, lies a tribute to suffering and perseverance: Beuk Aie (“Buckeye”) Temple.

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The Temple was built by immigrants from Guangdong, China, who practiced a particular blend of animism and Buddhism, which called for this sort of temple to be used in worship. It was housed in two consecutive structures, until 1959, when the second structure fell into disuse. The sacred altar and relics were preserved by Mr. Ted Loy, a Lewiston businessman, until his death in 1981. They were then curated by his family and transferred to Lewis and Clark Community College, for safekeeping.

The Beuk Aie Temple also serves as a memorial to the 34 victims of one of the many shameful incidents of persecution aimed at Chinese residents in the Pacific Northwest: The Deep Creek Massacre. In May, 1887, the victims, all miners from Guangdong, were slaughtered by White miners in Wallowa County, OR, who then took the gold that the Chinese men had mined. While the identities of those involved were determined by investigators from Lewiston, the State of Oregon, which had jurisdiction in the case, found no one guilty. There is a memorial plaque on the Oregon side of Hells Canyon, but there the matter has rested.

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In fairness, the people of the Pacific Northwest have made enormous strides in White-Asian relations, and the major source of friction in the Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries was mainly economic. Then again, isn’t it always? Fighting over crumbs seems to be our wont, as a species.

My thoughts turned to the indigenous residents of this area: The Nez Perce Nation, symbolized by their leader, Chief Joseph (“I will fight no more, forever”) and the Shoshone, symbolized by Sacagawea, the woman who guided Lewis and Clark through this then rough wilderness.

The confluence of the Snake and Clearwater Rivers has been a key resting and gathering place for humanity, for thousands of years. Now, a bridge connects Lewiston with Clarkston, WA, which I did not visit this time, as a walk along the Idaho side’s Riverwalk captivated me for nearly an hour, before it seemed time to head down to Lapwai, Nez Perce Nation and further south.

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The people of this area feel a great connection to the Pacific, which both feeds, and receives from,these great rivers.

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The Lewis and Clark Pavilion, at the northwest corner of the Riverwalk, honours the explorers and Sacagawea. A sculpture with her likeness graces the entrance to the small kiosk.

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I will come back through here, and spend more time in both Lewiston and Clarkston, as well as connecting with a Baha’i friend who I did not realize lives in Lewiston.

After having dinner at Donald’s Restaurant, in Lapwai, it was time to move through the salubrious mountains and canyons of western Idaho. Hell’s Canyon would have made for some fine photos, but the traffic was horrible, so I went further, to Salmon River Canyon.

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This trestle is one of seven built between Lewiston and Grangeville, to help move gold and other goods.

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The area is among the most rugged parts of Idaho, which is saying quite a lot.

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The rest of the day’s drive was through more sanguine territory, from Grangeville to Payette, then east to Ontario, OR, and a rest at the Oregon Trail Motel. The Beaver State’s Big East awaited.

The Road to 65, Mile 209: A Triangle of Towns, Part 2- Pullman, WA and ITS University

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June 25, 2015, Pullman- It’s hard to not crisscross between Idaho and Washington, when in this part of the Palouse. Pullman, a scant eight miles from the University of Idaho, at Moscow, has the equally estimable Washington State University. I parked in a two-hour spot, downtown, and used these steps to visit the University.

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The school was begun about the time that Washington became a state, in 1889. The Palouse was already drawing farmers from the Great Plains, and the small Midwestern colleges were models for the initial Normal School.

With many of the settlers being of Germanic or Scandinavian ancestry, the turreted structures found in universities in northern Europe found emulation here.

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The Clock Tower, a nearly-universal feature of institutions of higher learning, was also one of WSU’s early structures.

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The university library was quite busy, as summer session was still in full swing. I noted that was true at UI, and, a year ago, at the University of Heidelberg, Germany.

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This touching memorial met me, along the South Fork Palouse Riverwalk, as I returned downtown from the hilltop University.

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Cities worldwide are embracing outdoor murals, and Pullman’s celebrates its railroad past.

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The town has a smaller art scene than Moscow, but young people here are every bit as proud of their joyful noises, as their counterparts to the east319

South Fork Palouse Riverwalk is heavily used by locals, though in the lunch hour, I had the path virtually to myself.

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The Nez Perce influence is still felt here, at the western edge of that great nation’s rangelands.323

I enjoyed a hearty lunch at Heroes and Sports, in the building on whose exterior the railroad mural is shown, above. Two WSU ladies cheerfully welcomed about twelve of us in from the increasing heat, and I relished a Philly steak, before heading off, towards Lewiston, and points further south.

The Road to 65, Mile 221: Being A Father

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July 7, 2015, Prescott- One of the main reasons I am juxtaposing my travel posts with my thoughts whilst here at home is that, without family and community, there is only the mindless wandering of the unruddered soul.

Twenty-seven years ago today, Penny felt it was time to get to hospital. In the South Korea of 1988, every encounter between Korean workers and foreign nationals was first an economic one, then a human encounter. The woman who had been midwifing our child decided, on that day, that we were not helping her enough with her advancing in learning the English language. She declined to help Penny any further, and called a taxi driver to take us to an English-speaking Obstetrician, who would see to the birth.

Her parents were with us, but could not fit into the taxi, so I quickly hailed another for them, jumped into our taxi, and away we went, with the second taxi following us as best he could. My father-in-law’s frantic words, “Baby Hospital”, were apparently enough, as they arrived three minutes behind us.

The procedure went very well, and I was holding our newborn son up to the light, welcoming him to this world, three hours later. It was, all in all, a good life in Korea, and when we were compelled to return to the U.S., four years later, Aram was fairly well-grounded in two cultures. America was a bit tougher for all of us, but he grew up strong, and through the trials that buffeted the three of us in the 2000’s, and eventually took his mother’s life, our son emerged as a strong, healthy and amazingly resourceful individual.

Sometimes, I felt as though he was raising himself, but there was never a time, and never has been, when I haven’t had his best interests front and center. That I learned of those interests mainly by talking things through with him is the only way that ever made sense to me. Kids need steady guidance, but they have more on the ball than many of their insecure elders seem to realize.

The most inane aphorism ever is “Children should be seen and not heard.” I heard my son being told that, by a family member once, and I had to be physically restrained from hitting the individual. We need, pure and simple, to listen to one another, across generations.

Fatherhood is my greatest blessing, right after having been a husband.  It will always be so.

The Road to 65, Mile 209: A Triangle of Towns, Part One- Moscow, Idaho, and Its University

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June 25, 2015, Moscow, ID – I have been intrigued by the Palouse region for quite some time now. So, it was quite a treat to have ended up in Moscow,last night. I had woken the owner-operator, at Royal Motor Lodge, so my reception there was not the warmest. This morning, though, she was a bit sad to see me check out so quickly- at 10 A.M.

I spent about an hour, walking about Moscow’s downtown area, and stopped in at the salubrious One World Coffee House, at the outset of that little jaunt. With so many people, in and around the place, the only unobtrusive photo of One World was this coffee bean puzzle.300

Downtown and Fort Russell, about six blocks east, are Moscow’s two historical districts. I found Fort Russell would be interesting for a post on historical houses, but this was the Palouse in June, after all, and it was already getting hot, at 9 AM. So, I kept myself downtown.

Moscow, rightfully, prides itself on being a premier arts venue.

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John’s Alley looks like it’d be a great place to sit and jam.

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Moscow does not ignore its Idaho-ness. Hyperspuds is the local sporting goods and outfitting spot.

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This message, at the northern edge of downtown, evoked images of The Avengers.

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The McConnell Mansion was built in 1886, by Idaho Governor William J.McConnell. It’s now the historical museum of Moscow, and Latah County.

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Stone is put to good use, in the Palouse Valley, as evidenced here, at the United Methodist Church.

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Moscow is hip, but that doesn’t mean it ignores its roots. Farming here does not take a back seat.

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I spent about an hour at the University of Idaho, largely in its cool and impressive Charles E. Shattuck Arboretum

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Here is the Red Oak that is the centerpiece of the World War I Memorial Grove.

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The interior of the Arboretum offers trails that could keep one content for a few hours.

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As with other universities, this would mean buying a Parking Pass, as established by the Administration, housed here.

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The university has the good fortune to have a School of Music named for one of the greats. Mr. Hampton worked with the University, from 1980, until the end of his life, to establish a home for jazz, in its School of Music. In 1987, he had the honour of seeing the School bear his name. A Jazz Festival has graced UI, since 1985. Lionel Hampton is the only jazz musician, thus far, to be so honoured by a University.

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The University’s mascots are the Germanic tribe, the Vandals.

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Their facility is impressive in its length and utility.

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Moscow is a welcoming, and very comfortable town, and I would not be surprised to find myself passing through there, time and again.

The Road to 65, Mile 220: Cross-Bullying

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July 6, 2015, Prescott- I read this morning about the “rising phenomenon” of children bullying their parents. Then, a short time later, a friend wrote me a message that her parent was referring to her in the most vulgar of terms.

This goes back to how I was raised, and how we tried to raise our son. No two people always get along, and the permutations of social discourse get more complicated with three, four, or ten, in the mix. The bottom line, though, is respect, Golden Rule, “how does the shoe feel on your foot?”

It’s a given that children regard having limits set as part of their safety net. Limit-free kids are scared, more often than not, and fearful people strike out. We raised our son with what common sense we could muster, encouraging his curiosity and exploration, and discouraging any tendency to view, and treat, us as eyeball-to-eyeball peers.

I would not have my wife be subjected to abuse, nor she, me. Son is a fine human being, and I don’t think he would be comfortable with being able to give too free vent to negative attitudes. In fact, he has said that, all in all, we set reasonable limits. Likewise, we did not ridicule or catcall at him, something that I have seen far too many people my age do with their children, in the name of “honesty” or “free speech.”

Millennials speak of “adulting”. I love that generation dearly, and certainly expect that acting one’s age will be de rigeur for them, as it should be for us, and for “Generation X”. Perhaps the term is natural, though, as we witness so many, from ages 21- 90, indulging in unseemly public behaviour, again in the name of “self-expression” or “my rights”. For the adult in the room to have plenty of company is a fine thing, and since it happens more often than the media would have us believe, it should be contagious.

My feeling is that, if children see adults being adults, consistently, and if they feel well- and fairly-attended, which means having limits set for them, then there will be less bullying, in either direction.

The Road to 65, Mile 219: Sizzling

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July 5, 2015, Prescott- I have it in my mind to return to Europe, at some point, probably some time in the second half of 2020, or later, as part of a 1-2 year sojourn, just because I feel I must earn back the money I spent on the trips taken, over these past three or four years. It’ll all boil down to what seemingly needs to be done, at the time.

That’s all pie in the sky, right now. I think of it, mainly because the news tells us that it is hotter in Madrid than it is in Dubai, or New Delhi. Budapest and Zurich are warmer than Istanbul. The sizzle factor is making things seem topsy-turvy, but don’t say this too loudly, lest someone think we have gone full-on Liberal.

I have to say this, just once: Name-calling has not, and will not, bring the temperatures back into what we regard as normal range. If that is even an option, we need to look at everyone’s habits. What can each of us do, and what is each of us willing to do, to bring the overall climate into a comfortable range? The areas of focus would include: Diet, daily cleansing and grooming, animal husbandry and crop rotation, forestry, fishing and manufacturing practices- especially production of technological products. Ever stop and think about how your smart phone components’ manufacture might relate to the raising of the atmosphere’s temperature? Didn’t think so.

Each of us has the role to play. Me? I drive with the windows down, when alone. With others in the car, AC is usually a must, but that is most often for short distances. Showers? Have to say, I keep them to 5 or 6 minutes, and there is no “eeeww” factor, of which I am aware. I drink small smoothies, when possible, though I don’t really go in for the idea that smoothies use more water than hamburgers, from start to finish.

These are just things to consider, next time your town hits an uncomfortable heat level.