The Road to Diamond, Day 247: Under A Small Tent

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August 2, 2025- Half of the large and amazing farm family were gathered under the little tent, enjoying the artificial, but soft, “grass” and managing to stay out of the heat, whilst enjoying the afternoon breeze. They stayed long after the crowds had departed the Market, but none of us on staff were eager to displace them while there was other work to be done. They are avid supporters of the Prescott Farmers Market and themselves run a family farm, about twenty-five miles north of here. They were, therefore, allowed to stay and relax, until “their” tent was the only thing left to put away.

I am one who will gladly give people the courtesy of lingering, so long as my teammates and I are not taken for granted. The family mentioned above would be mortified if they felt that they were being inconsiderate. (I have visited their homestead several times, and they are most gracious.) Conversely, on Monday evenings, I wait long enough so as not to rush Soup Kitchen guests through their meals-but 5:30 p.m. is the limit set by those on the team who have worked since 10 a.m. So, sometimes it means things might get a bit tense, with those who have little sense of time. It is important to show them that courtesy goes both ways.

We have reached a point where those whose primary value is self-reliance and those who cherish achievements as a group have somehow separated from one another. There is what I consider an artificial division between the two, largely fueled by our culture of anonymity, the overvaluing of personal opinion and of course, the wirepullers- opportunists who alternately whisper and harangue. When I go about tasks of service, working with some at various points along the political spectrum, I find that when the goal is understood, the results are the same.

When profit, a worthy pursuit to the extent that it provides for the well-being of many people, is allowed to exceed the public weal in importance, there is an imbalance. When one’s stated opinions, valuable to the aggregate of the community, are given more importance than the views of others, there begins a process of stagnation. I believe that, once views are stated, they belong to the group to which they are directed. They become part of what is hopefully a healthy conversation and ideally contribute to a solution.

I believe that, big tent or small, there is room for many.

The Road to Diamond, Day 232: Flex Time

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July 18, 2025- Shortly after the founder of a small online devotional group requested that we say prayers, the co-facilitator launched into an anecdote that seemed to have been on her mind for some time. Those of us who had prayers ready to recite gave her our attention for the ten minutes that it took to share the story. Everyone got their words in, by the time the hour was up. It took flexibility to keep the founder, and others, from cutting off the lady and letting the intense story flow to its end. No humans were harmed in this process.

I was taught to seldom, if ever, take it upon myself to interrupt someone speaking, and much less, people in conversation-no matter how trivial their subject might sound to my ears. It was Mom’s idea of humility-and it has paid dividends, over the years. It also requires flexibility, because let’s face it, each of us regards our own ideas and agendas as being of some import. Giving everyone else the same grace, though, is the first sign that the light of maturity is a long-lasting LED, and not a flickering fluorescent tube.

There is another aspect to the notion of staying flexible in the course of one’s affairs. Certain moral concepts are non-negotiable, if we are to maintain civilized society. Private conversations should remain private. A pledge to help someone needs to be carefully thought out, before it is made; it then, must be fulfilled, to the best of one’s ability. Regard for our fellow humans needs to be held separately from differences of opinion. Recognition of a Higher Power is the bedrock upon which any successful life is lived.

There is plenty of room for flexibility, in each of those concepts. The lubricant of that flexibility is love.

The Road to Diamond, Day 195: Many Moving Parts

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June 11, 2025- My A/C unit was not installed today. It was scheduled, but stuff happened. It may be installed this summer, or may not. No matter- I have lived, quite nicely, with ceiling fans and a window box cooler in my bedroom, for fourteen years now. There are many moving parts to getting things done.

A team of twenty-five people got together, this afternoon, and made 1,000 packets of information for home-bound residents of our “metro” area. These include flyers on fire safety, establishing links to EMS, Life Alert and protection from scams. There are about 25 folders in each packet. Many moving parts put many moving parts into a useful compendium.

My schedule for the next six months also has many moving parts. I have described these in some detail, in earlier posts, and so will not elicit more yawns today. It’s just how life is panning out.

At this evening’s dinner, the matter of courtesy towards servers in public spaces came up. I was raised to treat people who wait on tables, clean buildings, cut hair, tend bar, act as park rangers or steward planes and trains with the utmost courtesy. My server, Seneca, mentioned that there are way too many people who forget their manners, especially on weekends. She will never have to worry about that with me. Servers, especially the young, mean a great deal to me and their self-confidence, alone, is worthy of encouragement. I know there are many moving parts to any sustained social situation, and that is precisely why courtesy, taking a step back, is so important.

The Road to Diamond, Day 178: “Like Everybody Else”

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May 25, 2025- As I explained that, unless there is a lot of background noise, I can hear people speaking in a normal tone of voice quite well, one of the others at breakfast objected: “Why do you not have hearing aids, like everybody else here?” While I could use a wax cleaning, the fact remains that I don’t have a sustained hearing loss, as yet.

There have been frequent times in my life, when well-intentioned people have urged: “Fit in!” I have, as the years have gone by, pretty much struck a balance between those aspects of conformity that have made sense to me and following my own path. Doing things a certain way, simply because that is what “everybody else” is doing, does not inherently make sense. First of all, no one knows “everybody else”. Each of us knows only a small segment of a given community, and can only claim to have a cursory knowledge of what the rest are doing. Secondly, we know even less of what others do, behind closed doors and drawn shades.

I have basically chosen the road map offered by my parents and other trusted elders, in charting my course and passing along guidance to my son-and the grandchild(ren), when they come. He, and they, in turn, will use their own judgment in adapting to changing circumstances. Conformity only makes sense, when circumstances are the same -as in “driving on the right hand side of the road (except when in countries where it is customary to drive on the left), showing courtesy to those one meets, or bathing/grooming each day,for the sake of health.

So much has changed, though, in my seventy four years, to say nothing of son’s nearly 37 years-or the short lives of my grand nephews and nieces. There are bound to be further changes, and even some of those will be temporary. It is the basics, those behaviours based on love, that will endure and be the foundation for a useful conformity. For those, we can hopefully count on “everybody else”.

The Road to Diamond, Day 118: Safekeeping

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March 26,2025- Little man next door has watched cars and trucks go up and down our street, from the safety of his front door. He decided he would try out his little tricycle on the street. Mama quashed that idea, very quickly, as you would expect.

On my way to a chili cook-off, this evening, I came upon another little man, on a tricycle, crossing the next street south of ours. This boy was with his mother, who safely guided him across the road, and onto the sidewalk. He rightfully “owned” the sidewalk, but chose to stay on the red brick bicycle path, until I passed on the walk. Then, he took over the right of way. Mom was perfectly content with either safe option.

I read, this evening, about a Kansas State Trooper, who pulled over an SUV for a traffic violation. In the vehicle were two men in their 60s and a 6-year-old girl. Long story short, going over the speed limit was the least of the driver’s transgressions, and the kidnapped girl is being reunited with her parents. The scary part is that the men almost had her brainwashed, but close, thankfully, only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes.

There is no substitute for a loving, sensible, committed parent, in ensuring the safety of any child.

What If..?

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October 9, 2022-

What if there was a holiday, and everyone stayed in bed?

What if the day off had no theme, or everyone just made their own?

What if every gift you had in mind for loved ones just sat, and accumulated, because they were too busy to see you?

What if, on the other hand, there were commitments you made, months ago, and people come to you anyway, with urgent requests that necessitate schedule changes-and broken promises?

I have had these situations crop up, and have had to gently point out that each day needs some organization, some effort at accomplishing at least the daily necessities. It occurs to me that every day, whether workday or holiday, brings interaction with others, and that courtesy and self-responsibility, never take days off. It also comes to mind that people who insert themselves into other peoples’ lives are either not thinking matters through, and are either being coyly disruptive, or at least passive-aggressive.

I am much better, in my own space, at not wanting center stage in someone else’s play, and in, conversely, gently guiding people away from making random requests that are solely designed to get my attention-when I am already in a committed activity.

Incorrect

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April 12, 2022- Gilbert Gottfried died today, at age 67. His was a classic New York voice, brash and direct, thinly masking a huge heart that cared for many of the same people he was “trashing”. My encounters with his work were relatively few: There was Iago the Parrot, in the animated “Aladdin” movies of the 1990s; an occasional Groucho Marx or Jerry Seinfeld imitation, on a talk show seen in a doctor’s office waiting room and there were his appearances on various celebrity roasts-each mirroring the work of his role model and mentor: Don Rickles (who he also would tear apart, on certain routines). The word is, Gilbert could take it as well as dish it out, in the Noo Yawk style. There is no one left who is quite like him, on the stage of comedy. He traded in political “incorrectness”, to remind us all that no one is perfect.

I have personally evolved into maintaining a modicum of “political correctness”, primarily out of common courtesy. Certain words, especially racial or gender epithets, have never been in my repertoire; others, when I felt forced by peers, in young adulthood, came chokingly out of my mouth-in private conversation. I felt sick afterwards, and those pejoratives were soon gone from my very consciousness. Then again, my sense of humour is dry, situational. I would not be one who could pack the house-or clear it, when deemed necessary. Gilbert Gottfried could do both.

For most of us, the ebb and flow of courtesy towards others is a balancing act-between offering the respect that human beings inherently deserve and the admonitions that are frequently needed. It helps to be generally nonjudgmental, as well as to have the moral compass that offers judgement when it serves a purpose.

Gilbert Gottfried lived by making that distinction.