August 2, 2024- The acronym, in times past, could have been used to appeal to my awareness of surroundings. Yes, there was a time when I was often so lost in thought that ” The tree just jumped out at me” or “That sidewalk rose up and tripped me” would not have been an inconceivable remark.
That was then, this is now. Do It Myself is a reasonable goal for me to set, with small projects, given time and You Tube. Project numero uno is to repair a gouge in Sportage’s paint job. I have already done the sanding and purchased touch-up paint, which comes in the proper applicator. I will check You Tube, to see if there is any intermediate step, between wiping the freshly washed surface and applying the paint.
This evening, a novice driver backed into hapless Sportage and the rear molding is cracked, but there is no dent and no damage is underneath-I checked very carefully. So, another You Tube check is in order, as the damage doesn’t come to much more than 1/4 of my insurance deductible. The kid was apologetic and gave me his information, but I think that JB Weld can take care of the cracked aluminum.
Essentially, I am more confident in my early seniority-and why not? I have watched plenty of robust and mature adults take care of fairly small matters. I can do the same, whilst knowing when to get outside help, or seek expertise.
August 1, 2024- Years ago, a little girl in one of my classes protested: “Mister Gary, him being wude (sic)!” There actually was a basis in fact for her complaint, but for one thing: The boy’s rudeness was directly in response to her rude behaviour towards him. The problem was only resolved over time, by the staff modeling politeness towards one another and towards the students, sometimes despite the kids’ impolitic.
We have had a spate of public commentary, lately, pointing fingers at certain figures for “being rude”, when they are merely being blunt or direct, in their criticism or questioning. Others are enjoying poking fun at what they see as “weird” behaviour, even if the behaviour in question has not been substantiated, and is reported as “rumour has it that……”.
I remember watching a cartoon, when I was about ten years old. Bandleader Don Redman did a short cartoon, featuring his song,”I Heard”, which obliquely dealt with conjecture among coal miners eating lunch in a cafe. Mom was no fan of jazz, back then, especially on a children’s cartoon, but she said that Redman had a point-People should not make assumptions about anything, based on rumour. Her mantra was ” ‘I thought’ once got a man killed”. We were always encouraged to think things through and get the facts, before heading down the wrong path.
I get the temptation to take the low road, sometimes just because of fatigue or insecurity. The higher ground is, however, the only place where we are unlikely to be flooded by the dirty rivers of misinformation and character assassination. Truthfulness can keep us on the right path. Falsehood, even with the best intentions, can only be a destructo beam.
July 31, 2024- Today would have been my parents’ 75th wedding anniversary-their Diamond Jubilee. As always, I took time to recall so many life lessons and watchwords they each imparted, over the years. They both were fond of singing. Mom had a most melodious voice; Dad’s was pleasant and joyful. He would come down the stairs singing “You call everybody darlin’, and everybody calls you darlin’, too”. The verse was from a jaunty song by Al Trace and his band (1948), and the full message was aimed at those who toss out loving words without meaning them. Dad meant his words-both approving and disapproving. He was a man of principle.
They gave us roadmaps- for financial security, for stability in a relationship and for recovering from hardship. Much of this came from their having been raised in a time of deprivation and war. In my younger, more dissolute days, I admit to downplaying their admonitions. Once I was no longer “young and naive”, and had to face my own set of difficulties, all those watchwords came flooding back. My parents knew when to help out and when it was best to stand back and let us sort through our own problems. I try to do the same, both for my little family and for all those who share their problems.
Now, Mom and Dad are among the stars, so to speak, “diamonds in the sky”. Their spirits, along with many others, are watching through the thin veil that separates us. Their guidance will never be lost, as long as I remain lucid. That, I pray, will be for some years to come.
July 30, 2024- The intrepid bicyclist said he’d taken eight days to make the trip from Tucson, to his former residence. He happens to be a paraplegic, with pretty solid looking steel prostheses. He told me a few stories about the stately eight room home, with two stone “horse quarters” on the property (which are rented out as apartments). He lived in one of the horse quarters, but was now just waiting for the property’s owner to show up, that he might spend a few days there. Eric had come home.
I am ever in awe of people who don’t let life’s mishaps deter them from going on. Most of us plan carefully and are having to make a modicum of adjustments in our daily and long-term activities. As long as we are careful with our health, things go on as normal. The presence of those who are “differently abled”, then , can be initially jarring, but also can serve to affirm the greater goodness of all that is here for us in this life. So, we watch the Paralympics and encourage those with artificial limbs, developmental challenges and loss of sight or hearing, to the best of our abilities.
Having lived with a woman who could no longer walk, and eventually, no longer move a muscle, I can say that the inherent worth of human beings never diminishes. The love we have for each other does not depend on physical presence, or even, as I am finding out, on proximity. Our souls are ever present, until the day they are carried by our spirits to a place just on the other side of a thin veil. Baha’u’llah said that the departed souls are “closer to you than your life vein.”. Penny was always able to communicate, to the time of her departure. So, in a more limited way, was my mother. They still do, from the other side.
When I came back along, after stopping in at Raven Cafe, Eric was settled in for the night. I wished him a safe evening. He replied that he was where he needed to be, and would stay right there. Indeed, we are each, at any given moment, where we need to be.
July 29,2024- It was once known as the “Loneliest Highway in America”; not any more.
Several times today, an “intrepid” driver would attempt to pass several vehicles, along Nevada’s long section of U.S. 95. Most had to be let back in, either a third or half-way through the queue, usually with an approaching semi-trailer truck as the impetus. At least the drivers had two things going for them: 1. They weren’t trying to pass on a a double yellow; 2. There was no ad-hoc scold trying to block them from re-entering the line.
Back in the day, we were taught not to try and pass anyone on a two-lane highway, unless there was at least a half-mile of visible clearance: No approaching vehicles on a straight shot; no curves or hills; no animals or road debris. That was still mostly in evidence, yesterday, but there were also the heat (not everyone has quality AC), schedules (“I need to be in Las Vegas by 5 p.m.!”) and cranky family members, who couldn’t be necessarily counted on to be patient until Eddie World, or Circus Circus, was reached. There was also the detour effect: Many travelers were on this route because I-5 and I-84 (the major north-south routes in the West) were closed in spots, due to raging wildfires. So, too was US 395, essentially from Mono Lake northward, due to the smoke from the Park Fire.
My route between Prescott and Carson City has usually followed U.S. 95, with several favoured stops in the routine. They were made today; Breakfast at Red Hut, on Carson’s south side; lunch (which doubled as supper) from Beans & Brews ( a small cafe run by students and staff from Tonopah High School), an ice cream break at Eddie World (Beatty’s answer to Buccee’s) and a gas pit stop at one of three stations in Metro Las Vegas. Others, like wildlife viewing at Walker Lake, checking in at the Alien Store, Amargosa and a meal at Westside Lilo’s, Seligman were foregone.
It has been a rewarding and affirming series of visits, even if not all problems were resolved to the satisfaction of everyone I visited, but life is a process, not an event, and I, albeit an eternal optimist, saw positivity.
Now my focus is largely on Home State matters, on downsizing at Home Base I and making sure all is ready for my 1-2 months across the Pacific.
July 28, 2024, Carson City- Little Man wanted to learn the simple game, which other members of the family were playing. So, he was given a seat at the table and the process was explained very simply. He’s a bright child, so it didn’t take long, and he was fully participating in the game-actually doing quite well at it. Allowances were made for his attention span, so he came and went-taking care of other things that had his interest.
His older sister was involved in the game, and played more consistently. A household chore took her away from the table, and that was more than okay. Peace in any house depends upon respect, across the board. When it later came time for her to spend quality time with her father, as well, that took priority.
There was a calm and very civil air in the house today. I sense it has much to do with the departure of some rather troubled and uncivil neighbours. Toxicity can spread, almost unannounced, insidiously. It was the first time, in quite a while, that the head of the household felt comfortable working in his own back yard, and the relief was palpable. These are good people, who have much love to give to their children and to extended family.
We are each individuals and will always have a sense of separation from even those closest to us. At the same time, we need one another, and pretending otherwise just leads to an unnatural divide. Coming together requires respect, in both directions. Miscreants can be brought into the fold, but on the terms of those who are practicing virtuous behaviour, not the other way around. There is a story that an early Baha’i told, of a saintly man and a ruffian. The saintly one told the ne’er do well that he could help him turn into a respected member of society, “in a month’s time”. The thug replied, ” I can corrupt you, in less than a day.” Both were right, underscoring the need for virtues to be instilled in children, and modeled in a consistent manner, by all significant adult role models in their view. Fortitude and self-discipline are needed, in withstanding the temptations thrown out by such as the miscreant in the story.
I am relieved that the two children, who I love very much, will no longer have to endure the nefariousness next door-and that everyone will be able to show the love for one another that has never been far below the surface, even in times of tension. This has been a wondrous cap to a very fruitful journey. Tomorrow, I head back to Home Base I.
July 27, 2024, Susanville, CA- The river that was named for Susan Roop is flowing nicely. The town that was named for the daughter of the area’s first settler is thriving, despite the fires that plague its surroundings. It is a sprawling, but comfortable town; auto-centered, but fairly easy to walk, as long as one doesn’t mind the 3/4 mile that exists between cross walks, along U.S. Highway 395, in the downtown sector.
I am comfortably ensconced in Apple Motel, with an appropriate scene outside my back window.
Chinese apple tree, Apple Inn, Susanville
The reserved, but kindly, couple were almost apologetic, but requested a cash payment for tonight’s lodging. A fire, started several days ago, by a deranged man who wanted to destroy the forest, is still far from here, but its smoke has limited visibility and activity, from just east of here, southwest to Quincy, and north to Bartle. It has rattled the residents of Paradise, which burned to the ground six years ago. It has closed Lassen Volcanic National Park and is threatening some iconic structures in that national treasure.
I was intending to re-visit Lassen today, along with several dozen other people, but a lunatic had other plans, and so we adjust. I was born under the fire sign, but have spent my life determined to use fire properly, as a tool and not as a weapon. The Wabenaki, from whom I am partially descended, employed fire carefully, to keep forests in order and in a state of health. I have taken that lesson seriously and have acted accordingly, in my own dealings with the element.
This area, from Mount Shasta to Pyramid Lake, strikes me as being sacred ground. It ought to be a place of reverence. Many of the people here in Susanville certainly feel this way-including the owners of this motel, the operators and wait staff at Kopper Kettle, the family restaurant where I got enough food to last me for three meals and the young people who were out and about, making the best of the slightly smoky downtown air. The sense of reverence was clear, in downtown Weed, from which Shasta may be seen, in its glory.
Mount Shasta, viewed from the north.
Reverence was ubiquitous in Old Station, a spot along the Pacific Crest Trail, where through hikers can get a good meal, shower and do laundry (I took advantage of that last one). It even showed in the confusion that a solitary driver expressed, when I signaled to him to turn back on the road to Lassen. It was most evident in the five wildland fire units that headed towards the national park, with the aim of defending places like Manzanita Lake and the Mineral Museum.
Lassen, Chico, Bartle and all threatened points in between, will rebuild from any fire damage-as communities most often do. Paradise has, and will again, if the Park Fire finds its way there. Lahaina is making steady progress, and so are the communities around the Mediterranean that have suffered great loss, in the wildfires of 2022-23. I am an eternal optimist and I am not alone.
July 26, 2024, Weed, CA- The ranger was on a mission, jumping out of her truck and heading down to a clear vantage point, then scanning the ocean with her binoculars. Whether looking for whales, like the ones who cavorted off Cannon Beach yesterday, or maybe some contraband-bearing boats, or someone in distress, she was quite focused and vigilant. Whatever was going on, Cape Perpetua seems to be in good hands.
View of the Pacific, from Cape Perpetua, Oregon.
I made one more coastal stop, down the mountain at Tokatee Klootchman. The name comes from a phrase meaning “pretty woman”, in the language of the Chinook people, who are indigenous to this area. The spot certainly is lovely, but with a narrow entrance that makes it safe only for southbound vehicles to enter. I spent about ten minutes here, saw no whales in the early morning and left after taking a few shots of the beach.
Limestone beach, at Tokatee Klootchman State Park, Yachats (above, and next few photos).
My next long stop was to be in Ashland, for a return visit to two friends there. This took me through some fairly heavy smoke between Winston and Grants Pass. This was due to fires in eastern Douglas County, between Roseburg and Crater Lake. Visibility was not too bad, though, and the air was much clearer, as I got closer to Medford and Ashland.
At the Weahs’ house, all was calm and the air was quite a bit clearer. I got more encouragement, regarding my fifth, and last, major 2024 journey-to the Philippines, in September & October. They filled me in on the Olympics Opening Ceremonies, which took place earlier in the day-as evening in Paris had been a few hours earlier. Stories of visits to the Caribbean and Cote d’Ivoire were a delight, as was the thick crust pizza. The service dog behaved himself.
Once back on the road towards California, I felt it had been a full day, and so pulled into this small town, near the northern slope of Mt; Shasta. Weed (named for one Abner Weed) is quite forested, and will be a salubrious place to rest. Thus, I am at HiLo Motel,in a quiet room in the back.
July 25, 2024, Yachats, OR- As I awoke this morning, up in Kent, WA, and pondered my route for the day, I got a message: Astoria is calling, and you should spend the night in Yachats. The route to the tip of Oregon was easily set, and by 12:30 p.m., I was parked near Flavel House Museum. The place looked interesting, but I had limited time and there was a set of hoops to jump, just to purchase a ticket. I was more drawn towards walking downtown. Besides, my camera was acting up and I couldn’t get a clear shot of the house.
This lovely little park would not be denied, by a brief issue with a camera lens. It was established in 2011, on the occasion of Astoria’s bicentenary, to honour the contributions of the Chinese community in Astoria and the Columbia Valley. Text and art tell the story in a delicate and fitting manner.Astoria thus bookends with Lewiston, Idaho, in giving the Chinese immigrant community its due as builders of railroads, jetties, canneries and, in Astoria’s case, the sewer system. Lewiston has the Beuk Aie Temple. Astoria has placed its tribute outside.
Astoria also has its funky side, as seen at this Mexican restaurant, near the Cambium Gallery.
At Cambium, I sat and observed a potter at work, for several minutes, purchasing a lovely bowl as a gift for a couple who I plan to revisit tomorrow. As this is a working studio, I refrained from photographing her work.
The last stop in Astoria was at its Column. High atop a promontory, on the city’s east side, is the tower erected in honour of John Jacob Astor, the community’s founder. Along with two dozen other people, ranging in age from 4-86, I made it up 164 steps and saw these views:
NorthwardWestward
After descending the stairs, it was time to leave Astoria. Cannon Beach was the next brief stop, and afforded the day’s most heart-warming surprise.
View of Cannon Beach, from overlook to the south.There, in a deeper cove to the south of Cannon Beach, was a pod of gray whales at play. I was able to gather a group of about twelve people to watch the festivities, so there were a number of photos taken, in the ensuing ten minutes. The cetaceans kept jumping about, during that time of astonishment on the beach.
My last wonder of the day was of a mechanical type: Tillamook Creamery’s cheese factory. The second floor of the creamery offers a viewing of the machines that are used in cheese-making and an explanation of what the human workers, and a few robots, do at each step of the process.
Vats, where fresh milk is heated. Curds are then separated from whey.Salt is then added to the coagulating mix.Finally, once the cheese has been cooled and is formed into blocks, it can be cut into smaller blocks or sliced into sheets and packaged. The Blue Octopus is a machine that packages and seals the finished cheese products.After the self-guided tour, it was time to get to my lodging, so back to Yatel it was. Dinner was down the street, at Sea Note- a relaxed repast of clam chowder, followed by baked oysters and spinach, at bar side. I couldn’t ask for a more comforting end to a great day on the coast.
July 24, 2024, Kent, WA- The fiords are both forbidding and welcoming at the same time, and I can imagine that the navigators taking us safely to port today must exercise the same caution, around rocks, shoals and marine mammals, as had the kayakers who first came here from Alaska, thousands of years ago, or the various Europeans in their great carracks and frigates, in the final stages of the “Age of Exploration”, in the Eighteenth Century.
It took forever, it seemed, to leave Saltery Bay, the southern edge of the district of Powell River. Someone got carried away and overbooked the late morning ferry, resulting in dozens of people having to wait until the 2:30 sailing. I was one of those who got there after the cutoff. So were the demure woman in the car behind me, and the boisterous, overwrought guy behind her, who blared his car’s horn at the slightest provocation, until the gate guard informed him that he would be asked to find another way to get to his destination, if this were to continue. 2:30 came, though, as 2:30s always do, and we were looking at the scenes below, in short order.
Approaching Earls Cove, on British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast. (Above and next three photos)
Before too long, I was in Halfmoon Bay, the blowhard having zoomed past, at his first opportunity and the sweet lady just going on, once I turned left, onto this property.
The little bit o’ heav’n, Halfmoon Bay, BC
My hosts over the past two days present a reassuring picture for the next two decades of this life. David and Carol are keeping active, both physically and mentally-adjusting to the challenges that advanced maturity, as I prefer to call it, bring to the best-lived of lives.
My hosts, on the Sunshine Coast
I spent much of the past two days in their company, going along for an errand trip to town and joining in a devotional, yesterday morning. Our meals were simple, but David is a healthful cook and presents balanced fare. I can’t top his fish, ginger and rice porridge.
My assistance was with the few things that they cannot do on their own. A key to being successful, in the ninth and tenth decades of life, lies in not giving up those chores and actions that are still within one’s power-even while facing the limitations that nature imposes. I visited with Carol, in her quilting studio and helped with a small item-putting a new battery in her wall clock.
A quilting studioHeirloom embroidery. The calligraphy is in Arabic script: “God is the All-Glorious”.
The small flower beds add the ambiance of the British countryside. This is not hard, as things grow easily here-despite the thinness of the topsoil in a rain forest environment.
Shrubbery and forest co-exist. The shrubs actually help the soil become deeper and more stable, when the leaves fall and are left to become humus. Evergreens need this sort of symbiosis.
I took a short (5 km) hike in the surrounding area, above Halfmoon Bay. The loop road offers a fine cross-section of mainland rain forest, akin to that on Vancouver Island, as well as those of southeast Alaska and the Olympic Peninsula, of Washington State.
Gateway to Trout Lake RoadRain forest off Trout Lake RoadBritish Columbia is increasing fire-wise education, as the past several years have brought horrendous wild fire, even in the rain forest. (As I was hiking in Halfmoon Bay, yesterday, there was a massive wildfire wreaking havoc in Jasper, Alberta, in the Rockies, well to the northeast of here, but still gripping attention across Canada-and beyond.)A local teen hangout, on the Bay side.
Halfmoon Bay also has a small beach, and a general store.
Some surprising items may be found here. I picked up a package of Filipino spring rolls, for David and cashew cheese, for Carol.
Around 9 a.m., it was time to head down to Langdale, and the ferry to the Vancouver area. Again, in short order, I was back in the land of hustle/bustle-but no city stopover ensued, until I got here, to the suburban climes of Kent.
Here are a few more scenes of the Sunshine Coast>
Norwest Bay, from lower Sechelt, BC.Horseshoe Bay, just northwest of Vancouver. (Above and below)
Onward I went, past the city of Vancouver, through the US Border, with minimal ado and stopped at the delightful Newsroom Restaurant, in the border town of Lynden, WA. Two lovely servers, working as a team, brought a small basket that satisfied my fish and chips craving. I passed on the ice cream, though I’m sure it’s delectable.
Bypassing crowded I-5, I took a more leisurely drive down WA Highway 9, only encountering rush hour between Redmond and Kent. Oh, well, some things can’t really be avoided. Golden Kent Motel is spacious and clean,and I have the joy of a kitchenette. Tomorrow will see me further down the road towards Astoria, which is still calling.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 