March 22, 2026- That is the age my father would have attained, had he lived to now. It’s been nearly forty years since his passing, yet I can envision a world with him, his older brother (who would be 101, in August) and his eldest sister (would have turned 102, in January). They were each fairly conservative in their world views, but they would likely be rather disconcerted at what is being done in the name of the system they each cherished.
Dad believed in the importance of character. He kept his word and expected us to keep ours. When one of us dropped the ball, which for me was more often than I’d like to admit, his admonitions were short and to the quick. He was not a violent man, so corporal punishment was rare. Letting him down was bad enough.
He would have been mildly amused to have seen me struggle with parenting a teenager, but he would be proud of the man Aram has become. He would be concerned with making sure that his great granddaughter was in a stable home-and so far, she is. I have no doubt that this will continue to be the case.
He would also be glad to see the overall size and stability of the family that he and our mother got started. Each of us has made our mark in the world, and none of it has come without struggle. In that respect, we shared his experiences. Our children have also done well, and his great-grandchildren, many of whom are in their teen years, are starting to make their mark in the world.
It has been said, in places, that 99 is a perfect culmination, a place to assess one’s legacy. I would say Ferdinand Joseph Boivin’s legacy is quite solid.
January 16, 2025- The woman sitting across from me at lunch was unequivocal: “Asking people to vote for a woman of colour for President was a waste of time.” She went on further, looking at other races that did not go to her liking, and concluding that it is best to conserve money and energy to only run candidates in races that they have a chance of winning.
Conventional practices bring conventional results-until they don’t. I have a lifetime of “punching above my weight”, with checkered results. Looking back, though, my regrets are primarily due, not to taking on challenges, but to lack of preparation and of self-confidence. I have also been guilty of placing too much trust in those who have, in retrospect, given every indication that they had no intention of acting honestly. Following a tack of business as usual has not ended well, in such circumstances. Yet, here we are.
Elections are a basic part of life in a free society, but they are only a part. The hard work of citizenship, if it is to meet with success, has to cast the conventional out, when it no longer works. Typecasting people, by race and/or gender, is an idea that no longer works, if indeed it ever did. Limiting effort, by placing too much emphasis on money and time, especially on the former, is more a reflection of fear and fatigue than on meeting the actual needs of our society-as it exists now. Holding meetings in secret and consigning decisions to a select few is a shopworn idea, counterproductive to progressives and conservatives alike. This last would be well remembered by those who are “okay” with government by oligarchs, who by the way, may be found on both ends of the political spectrum.
Finally, there is the same hand-wringing I have heard, about “what’s wrong with the young people?”, that I’ve heard since I was a teenager myself. Heck, similar messages have been translated from hieroglyphics! What I hear from younger people is that they respect authenticity, above all else. That’s no surprise, given that the primary job of a young human is self-discovery. Fakery is lethal to someone just starting out in life. The second most important quality to youth is courage. Left, right, in -between, fearlessness is what will bring one across the finish line.
Stand tall, keep head and eyes clear and heart open. The world cannot progress, covered in yesterday’s dust.
December 14, 2024- Caitlin Clark, a White woman who some other White women love to hate, commented on her own selection as Athlete of the Year, pointing out that much of her success in life has come from having enjoyed privilege. This stung both those who themselves enjoy semi-royal perks and those who have struggled to so much as put food on the table. I don’t know Caitlin Clark, or any other professional athlete, for that matter, but I do know White people who enjoy privilege and several who do not. I, myself, have been in both categories, at different times in my life-enough to know that one can be traded for the other, at a moment’s notice.
To her credit, Ms. Clark calls on the public to show respect for the many athletes of colour who have built her League-the WBNA. This, too, has offended those who still don’t see beyond their own narrow circumstances. More’s the pity. My life has been made all the richer, by having people of all “colours” and ethnicities in my life. Not all of them have been friendly, but each has imparted an opportunity for me to build personal strength.
I see the entitled ones, each day. Some are White; some are people of colour. They tend to not want to have much to do with people like me, and that’s okay. I look in their eyes and see deadness, shadow. My friends are those whose eyes and faces radiate emotion-mostly caring, joie de vivre. The entitled ones radiate nothing. Their whole being is transactional and they only associate with those from whom they can derive benefit. The rest of us are seen as impediments.
My people are those whom the wirepullers and elitists have trampled, or have deluded into doing the trampling for them. My people are those who have struggled, and yet they keep on trying. They either have transcended the lie, or will transcend it. It has nothing to do with income level, or race, mind you. I know of at least one person of colour, here in Prescott, who only associates with the elites. I know many White people of achievement, including in my own family, who would give the shirts off their backs to the suffering. It is about character, and nothing else.
The vast majority of those I have met, are my people. I kind of think that Caitlin Clark would be one of them.
January 29, 2023- In today’s Sunday morning meeting, the focus was on purity of spirit. It was stated, in the spiritual writings we studied, that purity of motive and of conduct has primacy over material progress. This is sometimes seen as chasing a chimera, but if we look closely at the effect of putting profit over character, it may be seen that problems invariably arise-either immediately or down the road.
Personally, I have found that only by taming my past demons have I been able to enhance both my relationships with others and achievement of material stability. Others in today’s group echoed that sentiment. Basically, learning to handle disagreements and misunderstandings with mild reason, rather than with bombast and recrimination, is what has promoted a much more balanced and productive social regimen.
It was further stated, in the passages we studied, that there is a difference between the purity of spirit shown by children and that exhibited by mature adults. The case was made that children’s purity comes from weakness and inexperience, whilst the purity of adults can only derive from the burnishing that results from tests and trials. This is a variation on the verse in St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, in which he wrote: “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”
I understand the reasoning behind these statements. A child can only understand what is experienced. New events in a child’s life will either confirm previously held notions or upend them. An adult who has suffered, and yet still loves with a pure heart, has had the experience of going through tests and trials, and seeing what value can be taken from them.
Purification, moreover, is an ongoing process, in a world where the dross of bad experiences-and of egotism, can stain even the most loving of hearts.
October 2, 2022- The ten-year-old girl was apologetic, as she corrected me about a certain procedure, at an event where I was volunteering, this afternoon. I assured her that the advice was welcome, and well-taken. The correction made all the difference, and obviated any embarrassment that would have ensued, had I not been reminded of the proper procedure.
My relationships with people, regardless of age, gender, or any other physical or social consideration, have matured, evolved-to the point where the only thing that matters, at all, is character. This is especially true since 2015, which was about the time that I left recovery mode, four years after Penny’s passing. Even vicious people whom I encountered were able to provide insights that could be incorporated into my personal growth. They were, on balance, not people of good character, so they are no longer in my life. The lessons, though, remain.
As we enter the fourth quarter of this year that has brought sea changes to many aspects of our lives, I find myself closing the door on things I find bogus: The almost whimsical political e-mails, which change with the wind, and whose intent is solely to wring money out of the fearful; the “controversy” over an African-American woman playing James Madison’s crystal flute-with dignity and respect, I might add; in fact, ANY claim that people should mind their place. I treat children with the respect that is their birthright. I treat elders with the respect that their long lives have earned, as well as being their birthright. I treat everyone in between, with the same respect. It is nice that I am able to bring genuine smiles to people’s faces, as a result of that respect.
My goals for the next three months are fairly straightforward. I will work a bit, this week, and over parts of November and December. I will help the Red Cross and local service groups, when I can. Visits with friends in Nevada and Idaho will take up a couple of weeks, later this month, followed by two days celebrating the Birthdays of al-Bab and Baha’u’llah, the dates of which are a day apart. November will see a visit to Monument Valley and with some friends in southeast Utah. Thanksgiving, as has been the case for the past two years, will be spent with my little family, in Grapevine. It is there that I will turn 72. December will see a three-day visit to southern California, just before Christmas and to Taos and Santa Fe, just after. Christmas itself will be here at Home Base.
Everything that is worth while is based on love. So on we go.
March 22,2022, Vero Beach- The above title is also the first building one enters, at Kennedy Space Center’s Visitor Complex, in Merritt Island, FL. Heroic figures aplenty are presented, visually and audibly, at this intensely captivating and informative science center. To be sure, having grown up in the classic period of the Space Age’s inception, I have my share of those who I hold in very high regard: Alan Shepard, John Glenn, Walter Schirra, Gus Grissom, Deke Slayton, Neil Armstrong, Sally Ride, Krista McAuliffe, Ronald McNair, Eugene Cernan, even Yuri Gagarin and Gherman Titov. My heroes, in general, are both male and female, of all ethnicities and skin tones-and it does not matter that I, a heterosexual cisgender white male, hold this view. Heroism is about character and achievement.
Heroes and Legends Hall, Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex, Merritt Island, FL
My first hero, my father, would have turned 95 today. He worked in aeronautics his entire adult life, so to visit Kennedy Space Center on this particular day was a sublime blessing. He held the astronauts in high regard, as well, admitting to being a bit overwhelmed by all the science that the increasingly complex business of space was encapsulating. I do think he would have thoroughly enjoyed this place, though.
Several whooshes of cold air and descriptions of rocket launches later, I walked out to Rocket Garden, where those vessels that launched so many legends into space are exhibited, at least by type.
Rocket Garden, Kennedy Space Center Visitor ComplexBuck Rodgers and Flash Gordon media, Heroes and Legends Hall
Suitable mention was made of the works of fiction that stimulated so many minds with thoughts of space travel, from the 1920s to the actual inception of successful space flight. These stimulated many young people to seek training and careers in the inchoate field of astronautics. Among them were all those we know today as astronauts-both men and women, and so many astronomers who foster and guide the space travelers.
There has been so much heartbreak and tragedy coming out of the Space program, as there is in any novel and complicated operation. Three jarring events stand out: The 1967 explosion which killed Apollo 1 astronauts Gus Grissom, Ed White and Roger Chaffee; the deaths of the seven crew members in the Challenger explosion of 1986; the launch time deaths of seven crew members in the atmospheric re-entry explosion of 2003. They underscore the fact that many failures take place, in all phases of research and implementation of aerospace work.
The crew of Apollo 1.Model of Apollo module
Project Apollo was the stuff of the greatest sagas, even of conspiracy theories that say the moon landing never happened. It was Gemini, the intermediate step between earth orbit and the moon missions, that deserves equal billing. Eugene Cernan, the first person to walk in space, described his experience: His blood pressure hit as high as 170; He lost 13 pounds in 2 hours; the heat shield on the module reached 3,500 degrees Fahrenheit, making egress and return to the capsule a tortuous affair. The work of the Gemini pioneers has made all the difference going forward, from Apollo through the shuttles and Space Station era.
My last stop at the Space center was the Shuttle Hall, at which a hundred people at a time were treated to seeing the Shuttle Atlantis, retired in July, 2011, after logging in over a million miles.
Space Shuttle Atlantis, Shuttle Hall, Kennedy Space Center
There are many things that can unite people of all backgrounds and viewpoints. The exploration of space is a field with which anyone can identify. Space, like the Earth itself, belongs to all of us.
July 20, 2021, Saugus- “It takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile.” This was an admonition that my mother gave to anyone whose cup was always half empty. Now that she is ensconced in an Assisted Living facility, in a comfortable apartment, with caring souls looking after her, 24 hours a day-but not overbearingly so, I came back here for a few days, to ascertain her well-being. She’s doing very well-just being herself and either staying in the apartment or going out, as she sees fit. My mother will never be anyone’s fool.
I spent a few hours, this afternoon, with a cousin and his wife, having not seen them in person, since March, 1994. I keep up with their lives, via Facebook, but it is hardly the same. Family never fades, though, even as some choose to differ in their view of society or of their concept of faith. The people with whom I spent the afternoon are of fine character, and have no insuperable animosity towards those of like character, who see the world differently.
Nonetheless, we chose to focus mainly on catching up with family stories and our memories of the generation who raised us. It is always instructive to hear different accounts about people whom you thought you knew well. In the end, it was also reassuring to hear that “the world is a better place, with you in it.” It had been a tough day or so, with regard to how some view my position, on how best to fight poverty, with disdain. Family, though, is bedrock, a foundation, which the criticism of relative strangers cannot shake.
I spent one last evening with Mom, before I head north, and then west, tomorrow- visiting briefly with a cousin who is family historian, paying respects to another, recently-departed cousin and possibly visiting an aunt. I gave Mom two bouquets of roses, and placed each bouquet in it sown vase, trimming the stems of the longer flowers. Keeping her company, while she enjoyed dinner, and covering her with a blanket, afterward, were payback for a lifetime of love. Family never fades.
July 7, 2021, Grapevine- There is no such thing as a 1/3 life crisis. That’s my assessment of the son whom Penny and I raised to deal with both the sweet and the sour of life. A topsy-turvy process, initiated by COVID restrictions and aggravated by bureaucracy, was pretty much resolved through his attention to detail and the energy of proactivity that attracted the cooperation of others.
So went the day, celebrating thirty-three years of life, of my sole offspring. There was brunch, a short hike around the perimeter of the apartment complex that Aram and Yunhee call home, a ninety-minute series of bowling rounds (my first such activity in over twenty-five years), a hamburger dinner at the local branch of a quality nationwide burger and shakes establishment and a walk around Grapevine Mills shopping mall.
The man has shown himself capable of handling even the nettlesome matters, about which he vents to me. He is a spouse dedicated to his wife’s career progress and happiness. He is about balance, between the people in his physical world and those with whom he communicates and interacts digitally. He appreciates the people he meets, on a daily basis and honours truth, from wherever it comes. He has a set career goal and entertains alternative game plans, in the event reality makes his Plan A unwieldy.
Aram Ferdinand Boivin will remain a force with whom to reckon, for a good many years. He will make a fine father someday, and a stellar worker for the public good, in whatever field he settles.
I went into work early today, to have a conversation with my supervisor as to her assessment of my work so far. I had a concern about how well I was being accepted by the close-knot staff, as there have been some expressions of hostility this week.
I need not have worried. Both my supervisor and co-teacher are more than satisfied with the work I’ve done up to now. They both want me to stay and finish helping our special needs student-and I will.
The legacy of Penny’s time and energy with me is, primarily, that she helped me get out of my own little world, giving up alcohol straightaway in 1981, being more present and comfortable in the presence of others, than I had been before we met. It was, arguably, the first time I truly felt accepted by a woman, outside my family, since high school-when I had relatively little trouble getting along with my female schoolmates-even if I didn’t see myself as “dating material”. Thus, what I viewed as rejection by others had much to do with my self-rejection.
Penny helped me transcend a lot of my self-doubt. Some of it resurfaced, in the first years after her passing, but gradually, with travel to Europe, Oahu and northwestern North America, I began to recognize that I was not unworthy of acceptance and true friendship, from a wide variety of people.
My tent is huge. I like people from a number of backgrounds- so whether their musical tastes are Classic Rock, European Classical, Country, Bluegrass, Zydeco, Blues, Jazz, Hip-hop, Metal, ( but not “Death Metal”), Powwow songs or Folk, I enjoy their gatherings. Whether someone is a person of size, svelte, or (like me) somewhere in between, it’s everything else about them-their character, primarily, that matters far more. The same goes for other physical attributes. Ditto, with political leanings, so long as the individual is not clamouring for the death and destruction of those with opposite leanings, be they conservative or liberal. I like my friends to leave their silos and, at least occasionally, listen to the opposite point of view with open ears and minds. Everyone has a piece of the Truth.
So, the most influential soul ever to grace my world still has a day-to-day impact on how I view myself. The spirit tells me to exude love for those around me, as well as for my own self, as life is hard enough for most people.
A Sagittarian Seeker 