June 3, 2024. Moriarty- The world is not so much finite, as it is a place of temporary systems. Each system has its unlimited aspects, each can only hold so much, at any given time. A stomach can only hold so much food; a cerebrum can only focus on so many thoughts, at any given time; a bladder can only hold so much fluid; a bank or credit union can only hold so many accounts; a border station can only process so many visitors, properly, on any given day-and so on.
Eventually, any given lack can be replenished. Any given problem, no matter how novel, can be solved. So it is, that I focus my energies on meeting some expenses as they occur, paying others in advance and making provisions for the maintenance and replenishment of my savings, however much they may be temporarily be needed in the interim. So it is, that I schedule time at Home Base I, no matter that I might be called away again-as is the case this weekend and next week, as well as in the second half of July-and in the Fall. So it is that time is set aside for health-related check-ups, and regular cycles of exercise, diet and rest, as a means of avoiding serious illnesses down the road.
Today was a long drive-from Grapevine (Home Base II) across a vast swath of northwest Texas and eastern New Mexico, to this favoured way station, roughly 30 minutes east of Albuquerque. I did not stop to visit friends along the way, because it is a workday and because I need to focus on choreographing the rest of my week rather tightly. A surprisingly nice lunch, at a Pilot Travel Center, in Rhome, TX and a few stops for refueling along the way, made the whole day flow. This coming Wednesday until Friday of next week is a busy time, mostly for faith-based activities. “To whom much is given, much is expected.”
June 2, 2024, Grapevine- Two things constituted my contribution to the weekend here: I took the kids out for brunch this morning and I washed the dinner dishes, this evening. I also won the Scrabble game, which just goes to show that unwinding does not mean unraveling.
I tend to jump into life with both feet, which sometimes has gotten me into some boiling water. All the same, I have learned to modify the shower or occasional bath, by carefully adjusting the faucet to a temperature that won’t leave me looking like a lobster afterward. I also have learned to be efficient at showering, so little or no water gets wasted. The same is true of any endeavour. “Waste not, want not” is sage advice, not only for eating and bathing, but also for speaking-and by extension, writing.
It is important, though, to neither be parsimonious with love, while at the same time remaining transparent about the nature of that love. One can only feel romantic love towards one person at a time. All others may be loved fraternally, parentally, or platonically. That was how it was for me when Penny was alive and that’s how it is for me now. I am grateful for every friend who is in my life, and will do what I can to help anyone who makes a respectful and reasonable request. I have a duty to self, to my beloved, and to family to use my resources wisely, so time, energy and money will be stewarded accordingly.
Tomorrow begins the “homestretch” of this current journey, leading straight into a well-organized, and hopefully fruitful, six weeks of service in and around Home Base I, plus Bellemont Baha’i School-barring any family emergency. The year so far has been one of effervescence, resilience and problem-solving. I aim to continue along those lines.
June 1, 2024, Grapevine- The new apartment, Home Base II, is a tad smaller, kitchen and living room-wise, than its predecessor, but my little family is happier-which is all that counts. I am as comfortable here as I was on the other side of Grapevine Mills- a testament to the serenity that Aram and Yunhee have with one another. True to form, we dined in nicely, for all three meals and I joined them on a shopping journey, this evening. Sushi was for dinner and a Korean comedy followed, starring the actor Don Lee (Lee Dong-seok), a bilingual actor who is well-known in both South Korea and Los Angeles, for playing tough guys with hearts of gold. This one had Don as a would-be arm wrestling champion, who has to face down small time mobsters-a piece of cake, this being a comedy.
June has ever been a month of transition for me: It was the month when I got married, went on pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy Places in Israel, both 42 years ago. It was in June, that my father passed, 38 years ago. I graduated high school this month, 56 years ago, and joined the U.S. Army, a year later. So, June has become my time for taking stock and making whatever adjustments that may need to be made, in life and lifestyle.
In a few days, I will be back in Prescott, Home Base I. There are already appointments and commitments set for several days this month, most intensely the management of a youth camp, in Bellemont, for eight days, starting next Friday. A visit to our Congressman’s office awaits, followed by a visit to my chiropractor- though not because of what might happen that morning. Our Red Cross meeting comes a day later, and I will serve as Blood Ambassador, on June 20, then help with a Slow Food event on June 22.
In the background, though, is a family situation that may trump all of the above. We just take the matter one day at a time. It is the Hands of the Almighty now. Life in the wider world will always go on, regardless of what we face as individuals, or as families.
Perhaps the biggest change, long-term, is in how I am called to serve humanity. I have spent much time on the road, these past thirteen years, feeling that my time was best spent in one place or another. There remain, this year, a road trip to British Columbia, via the Pacific Northwest, and visits with friends, one in particular, and service activities in the Philippines. East Africa had been on the itinerary, until security concerns (relative to a transit stop in west Asia) prompted the airline to scrub the flight.
Extensive solo travel, and solo life, may well be coming to an end, with the above journeys. That’s all I feel it prudent to say for now, but I feel a change in the wind. One day at a time, dear Lord, one day at a time.
May 31, 2024, Grapevine- The hardened but mannerly farmer must have already been on the job for several hours, and he was ready for a true farmhand’s breakfast. We introduced ourselves, we shook hands, and he groused about the previous day’s event in New York, as the footage droned on, on the small cafe’s TV. Then, we both focused on breakfast.
On this drizzly morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find a haven of charm, organization and good food, in the small cotton town of Ruleville, founded by J.W. Rule, in 1898, expressly as a cotton processing center. It was the home of Fannie Lou Hamer, who brought the Civil Rights struggle to the cotton farms.
A worker bee of a woman, named Winde, exuding grace, strength and a focused work ethic, runs Stop and Shop-Not Your Mama’s Tea– a long name for a boutique and cafe, but as fine a place to enjoy a full country breakfast as any of the full-on cafes I have experienced on this journey. Here, I found the South at its finest.
Winde’s breakfast stood by me all day, through western Mississippi, across Louisiana and the eastern third of Texas. My mission was simple: Get to my little family in this bustling airport town, by a decent dinner time. That, I did, stopping to deposit my month’s rent at a bank branch in east Texas, and alternately driving along a nearly empty highway, then finding people driving like bats out of the underbelly-each trying to outdo the other.
I got in to Grapevine, despite a few accidents that had traffic snarled more than usual, and a scrum that blocked access to the short route here. It was okay, though, to go the longer way around, as it actually deposited me closer to the apartment complex that lies a bit west of Grapevine Mills Mall.
So, this quieter day, with no focus on history or scenic spots, brought me to Son’s side, as he applied himself to a major portion of the work that will bring his baccalaureate study to a successful close. It will be an affirming weekend for the three of us- Aram, Yunhee (his wife) and me.
May 30, 2024, Ruleville, MS- There is a small mound, in the Shiloh Indian Mounds National Historical Landmark, that indicates the former dwelling place of a family of some status, in the vibrant community that once occupied a large area here, just west of the Tennessee River. On either side of the small mound is a larger mound, used for burials. The westernmost of these was used by the 28th Illinois Infantry Division, as a temporary burial site for its dead, after the Battle of Shiloh, in April,1862. The dead men were later laid to rest at Shiloh National Cemetery.
Shiloh,in Hebrew, means “tranquil; abundance”. The place bearing the name, in southwest Tennessee, was once that. In March and April, 1862, that all changed. The Civil War had come to western Tennessee and northern Mississippi. General Ulysses S. Grant had brought his troops int o the area, after a signal victory at Fort Donelson, north of Nashville, Facing them was the Confederate Army of the Mississippi, led by General Albert Sidney Johnston, based in Corinth, a major railroad hub and link between Memphis, Nashville and New Orleans. It was Corinth that was Grant’s true target. 23,000 men would die, in the course of this battle, making it the bloodiest episode in the American Civil War. https://npplan.com/parks-by-state/tennessee/shiloh-national-military-park-park-at-a-glance/shiloh-national-military-park-history-of-the-battle-of-shiloh-and-corinth/
Shiloh, prior to the battle, was a humble village of farmers, who had settled the area around 1816, having come by river, from Knoxville and Nashville. Farmers from Savannah, Georgia named the nearby County Seat for their former place of residence. Shiloh was named after a settlement in Samaria that had been referenced in the Bible (Jeremiah, 7:12-15.)
I have long wanted to visit this site, being dissuaded only by its remoteness and other more pressing concerns, when traveling to/from other parts of Tennessee. Today, there was lots of time, so I made three separate loops around the park, focusing somewhat on Pittsburg Landing and on the Shiloh Mounds. Here are some scenes of those loops, as well as of the short trail through the Mounds preserve.
Iowa Infantry Memorial, Shiloh National Military Park
Graves of comrades from Illinois, Shiloh National Cemetery, overlooking the Tennessee River, above Pittsburg Landing
View of Tennessee River, at Pittsburg Landing.
Site of wooden palisade, built by Iroquoian residents of Shiloh area, around 1200 A.D./C.E. It is not known why this wooden wall was built.
Burial Mound, Shiloh
Replica of Shiloh Meeting House (Church), which had served as General Johnston’s headquarters during the first parts of the battle
I left, rather shaken, especially after viewing the film about the carnage, Given current tensions in the nation, right now, it is instructive for anyone with a conscience to take time and review what happened, when the idea of enslavement of others became somehow conflated with the notion of preserving freedom. Nationhood is NOT a zero sum game.
Driving south and west, I made a brief visit to Sumner, MS, where the courthouse at which the accused killers of 14-year-ole Emmett Till were acquitted of murder charges. They later admitted having committed the crime. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmett_Till
Tallahatchee County Courthouse, where Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam were acquitted of the murder, to which they later confessed.
I had had enough of carnage and injustice, for one day, and have settled in for the night at Ruleville Inn, in the hometown of Civil Rights icon Fannie Lou Hamer. It’s a modest, but clean little place- albeit one where guests provide their own towels and wash cloths. The bed is new, though, and the TV works nicely.
May 29, 2024, Dickson, TN- The little girl saw an elephant, a red horse, octopus suction cups, a jellyfish, as our party of six visitors and two guides walked along the cavern path. We all saw the ghost of George Washington, a Persian palace, various wooden ships, Lover’s Lane, Dante’s Inferno and a grand ballroom, within the confines of the southern sector of Grand Caverns.
This is the vacation part of my journey. In between family visits and days of service, I am in the Southland, taking in natural wonders of this incredible cavern system and, in the days to come, a few historic sites. The guides, Lily and Malachi, are fonts of knowledge about this system, only half of which is open to general tours, with another 1/3 available for an “Adventure Tour” package-which I would consider on a different visit, if a certain someone is interested in coming along. Time will tell.
The day started nicely, with a light breakfast at Broad Porch Coffee House, the latest successor to beloved and sorely-missed Artful Dodger. The counter staff have the same bright energy and sweet disposition that Jasmin (not her real name) had, ten years ago. Maybe it’s the feng shui of the place.
Leaving Harrisonburg, I noted a sign for the little town of Grottoes, which intrigued me enough to turn off and head east on the small Virginia highway. Grottoes have fascinated me since the days when one was able to visit the three waterfalls of Jeju, Korea. (Those waterfalls have since been expropriated by a Chinese businessman, who uses their water for his own ends.) The name of the Virginia town is drawn from Grand Caverns, discovered serendipitously by a curious teenager, in 1804. The caves became a tourist attraction, shortly thereafter, and remain so to this day, the oldest show caves in the United States.
Lily explained, without editorial comment, that both Stonewall Jackson and Union officer Dixon Miles had brought their men into the caverns, at various times. No battle was fought in the caves, though there was a skirmish on Cave Hill, above the labyrinthine system. (Dixon Miles is remembered for planning to surrender Harpers Ferry, but died before he could do so. Stonewall Jackson, of course, ended up being shot and killed by one of his own men, in what was officially called “a case of mistaken identity”.)
Here are some scenes of the caverns. For perspective, the guides explained, note that stalactites (ceiling-based) and stalagmites (floor-based) grow at a rate of 3 cubic inches a year. The collective term for these formations, and for any other cave formation, is speleothem. That includes all the animals that the girl saw, and the ghost of George.
The ElephantThe Hitching Post
After this incredible seventy-minutes, I thanked the guides profusely, then headed over to a food truck, parked on the south side of Grottoes’ town center. El Carreton offers fabulous north Mexican fare, from the unassuming vehicle. Enjoying half of the burrito especial, I savoured equally the serene emptiness of a town, whose residents were mostly at work elsewhere.
The Ghost of George WashingtonReflecting PoolEnd of the Line
Down through the Spine of Virginia, and across Tennessee, I did not stop at my customary refuge. It was not a good time for a visit. So, positioning myself for tomorrow’s long-delayed exploration of Shiloh, I stopped for the night at this western anchor of I-840, the southern Nashville by-pass. Music City has much to draw me in, but this time is intended for other pursuits.
May 28, 2024, Harrisonburg, VA- There are always a few dozen reasons why any given thing can happen. It struck me as odd, that the driver of the dark grey sedan followed me, a bit too closely, from the exit on I-81, to Motel 6, and kept on driving when I pulled up to the office. It was not anything that would have fed suspicion, or paranoia. He actually already had a room in back and apparently just was in a hurry to get back there.
A friend and I had a conversation, this morning, about someone known to both of us, who makes everything about self. It could be something that involves the person directly, or is only tangential to the soul’s life, but this individual is a past master at being front and center.
I, myself, try not to be. Recently, I have conducted a pair of transactions, on behalf of someone about whom I care deeply. These are a bit more complicated than I had expected, so my messaging to the other person has been more frequent than either of us might normally prefer. I was finally able to get the companies involved to correctly address the products being sent, but it made for a nerve-wracking day, at least for me and for a third party who is receiving the items on the other end. Fortunately, not much money was involved; it was just time and energy that were sapped.
I stopped here, in Harrisonburg, because it has been one of those days, when I just could not go any further. H’burg’s significance to me is as a safe haven. I can totally rest here, and not have to concern myself with anyone’s expectations. That started years ago, when a young lady named Jasmin had me sit in the most comfortable chair in her cafe, because it looked at that point like I could go no further. Jas, and The Artful Dodger, are in H’burg’s past now, but the ambiance of the place is still salubrious. Mishawaka and Ocean Beach are in that same vein.
There are differences in the roles that many places of significance play in my life. Prescott and Grapevine are full-on homes, with all the various roles played by a Home base. Exton, the North Shore and Spring Hill are places to connect with family, yet mostly in neutral settings, for various reasons. Grand Canyon, Bisbee, Santa Fe,Victoria, Cape Breton, and now Corner Brook are places to relax somewhat and connect with spiritual kin. Carson City, Oley, Boothbay Harbor and Taos are even more in that category. The jury is still out on the Philippines, but the next few weeks will indicate what significance that country, and some of its people, are to have in my life.
Mostly, though, is what significance I have in my own life and in those of the people I adore. Much depends on what is going on in our respective lives, so I have reached the point where whatever interaction I have with treasured people is golden.
Having had a quiet afternoon and evening to myself, I no longer feel like a stuck pig.
May 27, 2024, Oley, PA- It was a time of assessment, as the eight-month old regarded me from her high chair, as seven of us gathered for breakfast this morning, at a substantial place called Nudy’s Cafe. I’ve noticed that infants born this year are less likely to grasp a finger that is placed in their hand, without first carefully looking at the person for a while. This is a new experience for me, and it will be interesting to see how the youngest Alphas and first-born Betas (from next year on) turn out, in terms of later social interaction. She did call out to me and maintain eye contact, as the meal progressed. Her older brother, on the other hand, talked non-stop, about subjects ranging from the planets to dinosaurs. He is bound and determined to be a social butterfly.
My PA family (2/3 of them)
Rain, or the hint of it, led to another event in Exton being canceled. So, after the sumptuous breakfast, I bid farewell to 2/3 of my Brandywine Valley family and headed up here, a scant forty minutes and a cultural world away. Oley Valley is all about farms, traditional values of Mennonites and a strong bond between humans and the land. My host, David, said that there was a time when a lively camp existed, at the end of the road which borders his family’s properties on the west. There was camping and fishing there. Now, since the owner of the camp died, the forest has grown back up and there is a clear marker between fields and woods. Manatawny Creek is only reached by bushwhacking a bit, at least in that particular spot.
The Greenhouse, which still bears the Glick family name, and was built up by David and his family, goes on without his leadership. It looks like it is still booming, though, having expanded to nine houses, during his last few years of active work there. He is turning his attention now to the garden beds, on an adjoining property. Love for the soil never leaves a true farmer’s heart.
I walked down to the edge of the forest, and saw these scenes, during the course of this afternoon.
May 26, 2024, Exton, PA- I tend to eat far too much, when a quality Italian restaurant dinner follows a Persian lunch. Maybe there is a solution: No dessert. I am trying that, and a walk around the grounds of the quaint Bed and Breakfast, in this still-charming exurb of Philadelphia helped a bit as well. I will be able to lighten up, during the rest of this week.
Now, to a recap of the day. I did not need to sleep in, after the surprise fire alarm last night, at Woodsprings Suites. By 8:45, I was out the door, for a walk to the nearby Perkins, where a friendly team of servers brought a light breakfast. I went back to my Baha’i friends’ house, at 11:15, to enjoy the rice I had saved from last night. I left there, after about an hour, so they could tend to personal business. Once in Allentown, ten miles west, I sat in a parking lot, and tried to access a Zoom call, from Arizona. This did not work, so on I drove to a Wawa station, fueling both Sportage and myself. At a Trader Joe’s, in Montgomeryville, I picked up several personal items and a lavender plant, for my Downingtown family. The cashier’s name, like my mother’s, is Lila. There are lots more Lilas these days. Parents are smart.
Drivers tend to, quite often, wait until the last minute to go somewhere. Then, they expect everyone else to get out of their way. I saw that a lot, today. People were more forbearing, though, when they saw my Arizona plates. I got from Bethlehem to Exton with no fender benders, or even close calls. Once at Duling- Kurtz Country Inn, I took my bags up to the third floor, “the penthouse suite”, settled in a bit, then joined my brother and sister-in-law for the aforementioned Italian feast. Pomod’oro’s is a vibrant, happy place, where a large number of children were celebrating what looked like the end of a successful athletic season of some kind. We just celebrated another chance for family time.
Here are a few scenes of Duling-Kurtz Country Inn. This will be a most restful night, with scant chance of a fire drill.
Duling-Kurtz HouseBridge across “the River Kurtz”The “River Kurtz”
May 25, 2024, Bethlehem, PA- I was drifting off to another blissful sleep, and the unmistakable sound, from years of running drills at various schools, got me out of bed and out of the building, in a flash. There I was, pajama-clad, and in sockless shoes, with a slowly-accumulating gathering of fellow guests, and the few staff who didn’t need to be in the office. “It’s just like school, huh?”, I remarked to an excited little girl, as her father grimaced and shook his head. The whole episode lasted twenty-five minutes, the police officer gave the all-clear and we headed back inside, as the seven firefighters continued their inspection of the wiring and checking for signs of (illegal) indoor smoking, or untended cooking. (This is an extended stay establishment, and there are two flat stove burners, in each room, as well as a microwave oven-which could lead to burnt popcorn.) The Cuban maintenance director, sounding like Desi Arnaz on steroids, promised he’d find out if anyone was responsible for the mayhem. All I know is, it wasn’t me-and probably wasn’t the guy standing next to me, who looked as if he were a clean-shaven Rip Van Winkle.
My last night in New England, for this trip, anyway, came to an end with a small purchase of a coffee and empanada, from 7-11, and a farewell to Nitey-Nite Motel’s owner, who barely looked up from his game of Solitaire, as I dropped off the key card. That’s okay; he offers clean, quiet rooms at a decent price. Hartford and Waterbury were a breeze to get past. Danbury was still Danbury-the same jockeying for position, at the split between U.S. 7 and I-84, leading some of us to wait 2-3 seconds in the inner lane of 7, before a quick break let us onto the 84.
It’s been a while since I stopped at Arlene and Tom’s Family Diner, Port Jervis. The same “Home of the Free, because of the Brave” sign is there, and the TV is still set to Newsmax. The pastrami is still among the best in the Catskill region, though, so that’s what matters most. Besides, it is always good to know what both sides are thinking, in this cosmic stew that is America, and the world, in 2024.
This visit to New England, and to the northeast Atlantic region beyond, reassured me of everyone’s love. Seeing cousins from both sides of the family, being able to repay Mom for all the nurturing she has given, over seven decades, being with my three siblings in a delightful dining room, visiting the graves of my father and baby brother, visiting a boyhood friend and connecting with Baha’is in Cape Breton Island, Corner Brook (NL) and Green Acre Baha’i School have made the month an exemplary one. Starting May off with a visit to the House of Worship certainly helped, in terms of spiritual energy. There was more interest in the Faith, from family and friends, this time around. Mom even read some prayers from my book. I was sent forward with top-notch pizza in Mishawaka, and, despite the jibes from someone I love very much, managed to keep in the good graces of hoteliers from Gallup to South Windsor. Time on the French-ruled island of St. Pierre was the icing on this very rich cake.
Now I am in Pennsylvania, with this hotel, an Air BnB and a private guest room as places of rest, during this second round of family visits. This evening was another special event-well before the fire drill. I visited these fine people, enjoyed fabulous Persian rice, salad and soup, with copious amounts of jicama and watermelon for dessert. I was also edified by the various “Got Talent” clips of performances by American and British senior citizens-most of whom were extraordinarily talented.
I also was briefly introduced to Tatamy Village’s community park.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 