Farewell, and Hail

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February 22,2024- From the dour expressions on a few faces, both in San Diego and back in Prescott, it seems like winter is getting on several people’s nerves. I felt great, though, even as leaving San Diego is never easy. A sweet and affirming conversation with a fellow hosteler got the day off to a good start, and my checkout was methodical-something I’ve only mastered, in the past three years. Once again, nothing was left behind. From Ocean Beach, I headed over to an old favourite: Harbor Breakfast. Friend Maria was not working today, but the fare was still top of the line. I handled a bit of business, as calls came in during this late breakfast. It’s all good.

Before the King Fire, before Yarnell Hill, there was Inaja. The 1956 wildfire in Cleveland National Forest, just south of Julian, CA, resulted in the deaths of 11 firefighters. I made a brief stop at the Memorial Park, as it was time for morning prayers.

Inaja Memorial Park, Santa Ysabel, CA
View towards the Laguna Mountains, from Inja Memorial Park.
Inaja Memorial Park, Santa Ysabel, CA

The stop reminded me of the fragility, and of the endurance, of the forest.

The rest of my drive back to Home Base I was smooth, and though I arrived in the middle of the devotional which prompted the straight homeward route, all ended up well. The focus was on peace, and tranquility starts within. So, winter or summer, cold or hot, it is ever worthwhile to focus one’s energies on keeping a positive outlook, even while dealing with the changes and chances that come our way.

All in all, this weekday break was a reminder of the value of refreshing one’s energy.

A Library Jenga, Nine Lanterns and OB’s Farmers’ Market

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February 21, 2024, San Diego- The stack of books is about 5 feet, 2 inches tall. It is arranged like Jenga blocks, though it won’t fall down if one pulls a book from the middle. This is Big Rainbow House’s library.

A Jenga Library

With a more sunny day in the offing, I headed up to visit a long-time friend in Orange County. In the past, we have frequented one or another beach front restaurant. Today, the focus was on Laguna Niguel, a community about five miles inland from Dana Point. I got to drive the length of Golden Lantern Road. There are nine “lantern” roads, emanating from Dana Point Harbor, that I recall: Violet, Crystal, Blue, Green, Ruby, Amber, Silver, Copper and Golden. The street names were a marketing tool for the newly subdivided community of Dana Point, in the 1920s. Each starts with a coloured lantern atop the western terminus of the street.

Before that little drive, I spotted a pair of harbour seals, lounging on the stern of a small yacht, in Dana Point’s central marina. The female was barking, clamouring for attention-or so it seemed. The male was seemingly dead to the world.

Two on a platform

After a brief stroll around the marina, and an equally short walk at Dana Point’s hilltop overlook, I headed towards Laguna Niguel. A large family of Baha’is once lived in this pleasant. green canyon-laced community. So I felt drawn to have a look at the area. Being a bit early for our lunch appointment, I walked around the community’s regional park. Its centerpiece is Aliso Creek, a shallow rill that is nonetheless running in robust fashion-a bantam rooster of streams, if you will.

Aliso Creek, Laguna Niguel Regional Park (above and below)

Just after I took these shots, I spotted a pair of Mallards, attempting to cross the road. I also spotted a vehicle coming towards them. Gesturing to the driver and pointing to the male duck, either spooked the quacker or he felt the vibrations of the car. The pair dashed back to the side of the road and the car kept on going. The ducks then made their way to Aliso Creek.

The surviving mallards (in center left, Aliso Creek)

Lunch, at Avila’s La Ranchita, one of about five family-owned chains, in southwest Orange County, is a true delight-with every dish prepared on site, from fresh ingredients-no cans or bottles. There is no skimping on the meats and vegetables in the various tacos, quesadillas, tamales, enchildadas or tostadas. Equally important, the chips are baked daily and the salsa is freshly made. Even the iced tea is brewed on site. I am always alert to the difference between fresh and processed. This place is for real-and worth a drive eastward from the beach.

I came back to Ocean Beach, in time for the Wednesday Farmers’ Market. It is slightly larger than ours back in Prescott-but this is San Diego, after all, and the vegetables, fruits, cheeses, juices and various hot foods are all amazing, in variety and quality. I got a few items, and called it a night. One must be prudent, even when on holiday.

Rising Tides

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February 20, 2024, San Diego- The small group of European youths spoke of their concern for their countries, should certain political and military forces hold sway. I stayed out of the conversation, and an older man in the group urged them to not jump to conclusions. Nonetheless, a rising tide of personal ambition and disdain for the changes that society is undergoing is having a disconcerting effect on a good many, in the generations of young adults. There is a renewed commitment to freedom of choice and group cohesion, across the range of political opinion, among a good many in the two emerging generations of young adults. From what I’ve seen, the Alpha Generation, those born since 2010, is showing the same collaborative spirit.

There was another sort of rising tide, at Ocean Beach and at Mission Bay, throughout the day. The oceanic tide kept coming in, from early this morning, until about 4 p.m., with roiling waves propelled by the storm that dumped about an inch of rain on OB. Here are a few scenes of both morning and afternoon.

Ocean Beach Pier, at 9 a.m.
Ocean Beach, at 9 a.m.
Dog Beach, 3:30 p.m.
Dog Beach, at 3:40 p.m.
Egrets and ducks were unperturbed.

My energy tide was raised by a message, from someone I love dearly, as I woke up. It was capped by the news that my little family has successfully relocated to an apartment they like better, this evening. In between, I managed a two-mile walk, to Mission Bay and back to Rainbow House, cooked up some lobster ravioli and hosted a Zoom call, one of two meetings that punctuate this visit.

The rain has stopped and the oceanic tide, at least, has ebbed. It will be interesting to see how these other tides rise and fall.

The Purple Owl and other Serendipities

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February 19, 2024, San Diego- Today being a national holiday, there were hordes on the road, especially once I got to the Colorado Desert. The sand dunes at Glamis, Anza_Borrego’s approaches-and on up the mountain, at Julian, the streets and parking lots were full. Don’t get me wrong-I think it’s a great thing, that so many people are out and about.

Not much was working last night, and this morning, at Relax Inn, which had been a reliably comfortable place for lodging, in past years. I told the desk clerk that there is a sizable issue with the electrical connection, which could cause more problems than just the light fixtures and refrigerator not working. Time will tell whether the owners tend to the matter.

No matter- I was on the road by 8:30 and headed down through Brawley, stopping for a brief walk along the city’s main street. Not much was open, partly because several businesses are closed on Mondays, and partly because of Presidents’ Day. I was focused, though, on getting up to Julian, which was Penny’s last place of residence, before we married, and has remained a personal favourite. No parking space was available, until I spotted Purple Owl, on the town’s near south side. It turns out to be a comfortable and welcoming vegetarian cafe. I am protein saturated, so going with a savory veggie-filled Puebla crepe was a good thing.

That made the trip down the mountain to San Diego, and Ocean Beach, that much more enjoyable. It’s overcast here, with a promise of rain tomorrow. Nonetheless, OB is its usual funky self. I did resolve the lingering issue of where to put Sportage. An enterprising individual has opened a lot, which is guarded 24/7. It’s reasonable, so there my trusty steed will sit, until I need it on Wednesday and Thursday. I will be somewhat ensconced in Samesun Ocean Beach (the Rainbow House).

The ocean was fairly calm this evening. I present you, as I mentioned to my dearest: A view which could be a black horse at midnight. A closer look reveals the ocean, at ebb tide.

Ocean Beach, at 8 p.m.

Ten Beautiful Things (and People)

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February 18, 2024, Blythe- (Getting around “no internet” is always fun. I am posting this from a location other than my motel-Relax Inn.)

My favourite zoo animal, when I was a child, was the black panther. Stoneham Zoo and Franklin Park, in Boston, always had at least one melanated leopard. As it happens, Heritage Park zoo, in Prescott, has a melanated jaguar. This panther is named Notch. So, Notch ranks #10 on the list of beautiful things and people that come to mind, as I sit here in this desert town, on the Colorado River.

He is also the only one for whom I will present a photograph, in this post. The other nine have been posted previously, at one point or another.

#9 is the western sunset, which is almost given a run for its money, by the sunsets of the Midwest.

#8 is the Aurora Borealis, which I have seen only once-in Flagstaff, circa 1980.

#7 is the voice of Carrie Underwood, when she is fully engaged in a spiritual song.

#6 is the portrayal by Keala Settle, of the Bearded Woman, in “The Greatest Showman” (2017).

#5 is the snowscape, after a storm, on the South Rim of Grand Canyon.

#4 is a mother black bear, nestling her newborn cub-and viewed from a safe distance.

#3 is the look on the face of a little girl, when her family is relocated from a flimsy shack, to a tiny house, on the outskirts of Sacramento.

#2 is the smile on the face of a grizzled and cynical Right Wing political activist, when he is given a packet of Earth Breeze laundry sheets, by someone he knows to be a social justice activist, from the other side of the political spectrum.

#1 is the smile on the face of a very dear friend, when those she trusts include her in activities.

Everyone has their own ideas of what, or who, is beautiful. That is what keeps this world glued together.

Get Up, Stand Up

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February 17, 2024- The melanated jaguar responded excitedly to the sight of his keepers approaching with his chicken lunch. He leaped to his feet, trotted over to the gate, where they would, carefully and methodically, enter his enclosure. He was just barely patient enough to enter his safe inner cage, whilst a keeper hoisted the carcass of the chicken onto a dead tree and cleaned the outer enclosure. Once the humans were safely out, and all the gated locked, Notch, the jaguar, was released from his inner cage and trotted over to the tree, sniffing the air and gazing up at the chicken. He then trotted over to look at his spectators, laid down and seemingly contemplated a game plan, for getting his meal. After about eight minutes, he sprang into action, scooted up the tree, dragged the carcass down and zipped off to his lair, meal in jaws. Varying degrees of privacy ensued, but the gist was-“Folks, it’s impolite to watch someone else eating”. Notch gulped his meal down, a bit at a time. Jaguars do not taste their food, nor do they masticate it. They eat to live, rather than living to eat.

Animals in the wild are very good about standing their ground. Carnivores are up front about killing their prey, or at least scavenging the kills of others. Herbivores are equally up front about putting up a fight, to stay alive. Nature, on its own, tends towards balance.

Humans can, fairly often, go their whole lives without facing deadly challenges. We do, however, encounter challenges to our dignity, well-being and health. Those of us who live in developed nations quite often don’t even need to worry about the latter. My life, at least since I left alcohol dependency behind, has largely been on an upward psychological and spiritual progression. It gave me the strength to serve Penny as her primary caretaker, whilst at the same time helping me to get rid of old psychological baggage. A fairly brief challenge to those, from October, 2018-April, 2019 was the exception to this state of being, but I see that now as more of a “final examination” in standing my ground.

My time living in Prescott has, for the most part, been free of unpleasant individuals trying to cut me and my loved ones down. Tonight, though, I had to speak up, when someone made a cutting remark about my friend in the Philippines, whom no one here has ever met. While our relationship is in its early stages and there is no guarantee of anything, I will still not let slights and derogatory comments about this devout and honest woman go unchallenged. Neither will I let myself be put down, no matter how “prominent” or “popular” the speaker happens to be.

I chose to attend the celebratory dinner, at which the comment was made to the end, rather than leave early and rush down to Phoenix, so as to get into a dance party, towards which I contributed. It seems like this was a good thing,though, as it put those in attendance on notice, that K is off-limits to armchair detractors and xenophobes, and that I am not a doormat for their hate. One person got a calm and measured response, which he found reasonable. The other was silenced immediately, and nervously changed the subject.

Bob Marley had it right.

Alarm Bells

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February 16, 2024- The three of us went in the front door,at the main Fire Station, in the small, sprawling community of Mohave Valley, east of Needles. We were there as part of the “Sound the Alarm” program, by which the Red Cross, acting in concert with local Fire Departments, first leaves flyers for an upcoming smoke detector installation, in a given neighbourhood, then returns, 1-8 days later, to install the detectors, where requested.

The event was scheduled after two recent house fires in the area. The first claimed the lives of a pregnant woman and her baby,as well as her in-laws. The second, in nearby Bullhead City, claimed the lives of five children. I walked by the ashes of the first house, this afternoon. Workers were clearing the debris, with the aid of a bulldozer. The eerie silence resonated, broken only by the barking of ubiquitous guard dogs, who seemed to be in every yard in the five-block area. I can only imagine the heartbreak of the surviving son, husband and father, going on alone.

Looking for the Chief and his Captain, we were informed that it was lunch time. So, we ourselves went off to Bonanza Cafe, where we found good quality diner fare, served with a smile. The smiles broadened, when we told the server why we were in town. A patron named Kevin, sitting nearby,paid for our lunch as he and his wife left the restaurant. . People tend to like those who take interest in their community.

Once back at the Station, we planned out our canvass of the five-block neighbourhood, a mix of new homes and mobile units. We focused on the mobiles, as building codes have mandated hard-wired smoke detectors, over the past ten years, or so. The task was made very light, actually, as we were joined in the canvass by an engine and an ambulance, which were thankfully not called away during the activity.

Thus did my brief “hiatus” from Red Cross volunteer service come to an end. It turned out that this interlude was brought on by an AI glitch, not by the fit of pique that I had noticed, at our last meeting. Microsoft marches to its own drummer, and doesn’t much care about who is getting along with whom. We three got along just fine today, and the software that interferes with our collaboration will be fixed soon.

After, the canvass, we were taken on a tour of the Fire Station, by Captain Tim. He explained that much of the new equipment we saw had been purchased with grant money. The Wildland Firefighting equipment came in handy, earlier this winter, when a blaze broke out in the rough country along the Colorado River. The hills above the nearby tourist town of Oatman are also constantly at risk. A Rehabilitation Vehicle is also on site, courtesy of a grant. This unit serves as a place for firefighters, particularly Wildland staff, to rest in shade, rehydrate and get snacks or solid food, during the exercise.

During his remarks, I thought of the southern Arizona community of Bisbee, which had experienced a major fire, yesterday, in its historic downtown. Bisbee’s water lines are 100 years old, which doesn’t help when an event like that happens. Two buildings were damaged, and the rest of Old Bisbee needs urgent attention, to ensure that the community doesn’t become another Lahaina. Captain Tim spoke of Maui, in stressing the importance of grants for fire fighting, in stressed communities. He also noted that networking, across several communities, has been a hallmark of firefighting, even before the concept became in vogue for society at large.

With all that in mind, we visited two families, one in Bullhead City and one in Kingman, so that our team lead could process their claims from recent house fires. The first was having a yard sale, getting rid of as much excess as possible. The second was at his extended family’s home, three blocks from the fire scene. In each case, Red Cross helps with small cash allowances for short term accommodations, meals and replacement of some personal items, such as clothing, while the victim(s) await insurance settlements.

It was a fourteen-hour day, from the time we left the Red Cross office, here in Prescott, until I was finally dropped off at Home Base I. No matter-it was a fine resumption of the service that gives me affirmation. The day had started with a message from my Beloved, and ended in the knowledge that there is far more love than hate or indifference, in communities large and small.

Consistency

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February 15, 2024- One of my correspondents stated that surely the person I love the most, in all the world, must be my late wife. I have never stopped loving Penny, nor will I. She is not, however, any longer in human form, and has, in fact, given spirit blessing to my having a special friendship with another human female. Where that will go is yet to be determined, but so far, it’s working nicely-long distance. It is a consistent communication, from both ends. It is mutually honest and dignified. It is flexible and considerate, by each of us.

I had a good work day, yesterday. Covering five music classes, in two schools, using a combination of video-based instruction and students keeping rhythm and counting beats. I was consistent, and did not need to raise my voice. Using free time to organize the lesson, in the second school, was reassuring to even the rowdiest of the kids. They appreciated that someone valued their time enough to make sure that the lesson flowed.

My dermatological report came back essentially clean. What little that needs attention will be resolved with the topical cream that I got last August. Sunscreen, a hat and keeping covered did the trick, even with time in the Philippines and our Arizona sun. The key is consistency.

I have the added incentive of wanting to be whole, to be healthy, for the sake of someday being with the one I love most on this Earth. More basically, though, I want to live a full life, just in my own space, until that day comes, and afterward. One must remain consistent, in order to be whole. So far, I’m doing better, in that regard.

Three Times in Love

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February 14, 2024- I read, on the back of one of my baby pictures,of all that coursed through the young woman’s heart, as she gazed upon her first born child-yours truly.        Thirty years after that photo was taken, a winsome, effervescent young woman came up to me, and started talking about the event where were both in attendance.            Forty-three years after that night of rain and snow, a winsome, effervescent and mature woman came over to me and began talking of her family, smiling broadly with pride in her daughter.

It’s said that one only falls in love with three people, in this life: The love who looks right; the hard love and the love that lasts. This theory takes in an adolescent crush, as its notion of first love, but leaves out the obvious person: One’s opposite sex parent. My mother was my first love, and set the ideal for anyone who came along later. I learned my code of conduct, love of learning and attention to detail, from that diligent and sometimes exacting woman. A boy sees, hears and feels the love of his mother, above all the other females in his young life. I didn’t always listen to her, and bristled, as often as I acquiesced, to her dictums and rules. A man ponders, internalizes, and often passes on to his own progeny, those same precepts-along with what was learned from his father.

I had my share of adolescent crushes, none of which came to anything, and as an emerging, but still immature, thirty-year-old I started to feel something stirring within myself-after living a hard twelve years of struggle with alcohol dependency, a fairly obvious place on the autism spectrum and a pretty serious level of self-loathing. That stormy night, in December, 1980, I came face-to-face with the woman who would be both the love who looked right and the hard love. We worked through a lot, raised a child, and raised each other, past a lot of lingering adolescence. She brought a renewed Faith in the Divine, into my world, and refined my idea of unconditional love. It could be said that she made a man out of me-and certainly impelled me to cast out my lingering demons. That was a process, though, that lasted beyond her own time in this world, and caused me some grief, for a few years after death did us part.

The third love is the one we don’t see coming. I certainly was taken aback, having resigned myself to living out my years surrounded by friends, but essentially alone. Yet, there she was, captivating me more than anyone had, in a good many years-and certainly as much as Penny had, on that night in Zuni. This time, we were part of a group, which went to some places together and, right up to the day I left their company, did not consciously strike me as an agent of the change that was to come. I was cavalier about when I would come back to visit them. Yet, underneath it all, feelings began to bubble to the surface. Before a month had passed, from my return to Home Base, I knew I was in deep.

The love we don’t see coming is said to be the love that lasts. I personally think all three last. I will always be looking out for my mother, as long as she is alive, even though she is safe and secure-and 2,655 miles away. I will always be praying for the well-being and advancement of Penny’s soul, even as her spirit continues to guide me. I will continue to communicate, often daily, with the woman for whom I feel a welling of love, and carefully build a lasting friendship, based on mutual respect and devotion.

All three are strong, independent souls, capable of fiercely defending their loved ones, their values and their own persons. That strength, independence and ferocity, as I mentioned yesterday to a distant friend, are what bound me to my mother and drew me to Penny, and to K. Only a strong woman can truly bring out the strength in a man.

So I wish my third love a Happy Valentine’s Day, and can only hope to be as valued in her heart, as she is in mine.

Here’s Tommy James, offering a take on the notion.

The Beads

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February 13, 2024-Laissez les bin temps rouler”. The good times are no doubt rolling, in New Orleans, in Mobile and way down south, in places like Rio de Janeiro and Port of Spain. In the Big Easy, there’s a lot of tossing beads at those lining the parade route, but that’s just the throwaway part, and there are those whose first concern is the content of the stringed glossies.

I have been on the periphery of Mardi Gras, twice. The first time, the bus I was riding rolled into NOLA, early on the morning of Ash Wednesday, 1987. Piles of stringed beads, leftover jambalaya and crawfish pila were all over downtown, but I was told the French Quarter was already clean as a hound’s entire mouth-never mind a single tooth. The second time was on the little sister of Mardi: Lundi Gras, in 2015, as good an excuse as any to extend les bon temps to four days. Things were already red hot in the French Quarter and a woman tossed a string of beads to me, from one of those balconies that could easily have featured a t-shirted Marlon Brando calling for Stella, at the top of his lungs. I think I made do with a large slice of pizza for lunch, and had my jambalaya later, in the evening, at a nice spot in Lake Charles.

Getting back to the beads, I gave mine to a granddaughter of the heart, that summer. Now we hear that the beads themselves may contain varying amounts of lead. By now, she has probably long since tossed the cheapo stringed glossies. What appeals to a four-year-old is an eye roller, when she reaches the age of twelve. Needless to say, if I have it to do over again, I’d graciously accept the beads, and find that algae pond that an intrepid high school freshman in, I believe, Missouri, said he’s using to break down the lead-infused beads.

My Mardi Gras today consisted of a spirit walk, checking out the end of downtown Prescott’s easternmost north-south street. Cortez Street goes up a short hill, and ends as a cul-de-sac, where there is an apartment complex. Things didn’t get much more rapid fire after that- A Mexican chocolate latte, a walk past the Granite Creek mural (will video that rather charming masterpiece, on Thursday) and a workout at Planet Fitness, rounded out the good times. My Mardi Gras meal was four small Buffalo Chicken empanadas. The times, though, are good enough. I learned a lot, this evening, from a community activist’s presentation on urban gardening. There is much good afoot, in Columbus, OH.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It is also the beginning of Lent, for Christians. I guess that means I should not eat chocolates, when walking by a church that’s letting out. Since Mom taught us not to eat while walking outside, I’m good. Valentine’s Day, this year, feels different. More on that, tomorrow. For now, here’s Ric Ocasek, with another take on Les Bon Temps.