True Blue

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April 11, 2026- The penultimate speaker, in this evening’s memorial to the late Baha’i teacher, Glenford Mitchell, began by noting that the hour was getting late, and saying he would be brief. He then went on for ten minutes. No reminiscence about Mr.Mitchell could ever be ever be brief, though he himself was the model of brevity, in his talks and speeches. He simply meant too much, to too many people.

I sat for the live-streamed broadcast of this memorial because of the tenor of Mr. Mitchell’s work. An early founder of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Council (“Snick”) and co-author of “The Angry Black South” (1962), he became enamoured of the Teachings of Baha’ullah, first taught him by his paternal uncle, in his native Jamaica and coming again to the fore of his heart while he lived in Raleigh, NC as a student at Shaw University. Glenford threw himself more fully into Baha’i work and by dint of his devotion and work ethic, was elected to one Baha’i administrative body after another, serving fourteen years on the National Spiritual Assembly of the Baha’is of the United States, then twenty-six years on the Faith’s Supreme Body: The Universal House of Justice.

In his later years, Mr. Mitchell’s health declined, but his spirit kept on and he continued to welcome friends and family to his home, even if he could no longer walk or speak. His wife and family stood by him, and saw that his declining years were not those of misery. Glenford Mitchell’s spirit remained true blue-even through his passing on February 7.

Randy Smith, who also passed on recently, served the Baha’i Faith in Washington State and in Prescott Valley, AZ, for nearly thirty years. I knew Randy, and his wife, Linda, as steadfast, long-suffering community servants, in the Prescott area. Others recall the same about them, in the Olympia and Longview areas.Randy was most often found in his shop/garage, attached to the family home. He welcomed neighbours, including youths, who were either interested in his various projects or who simply wanted to borrow tools. He also spent long hours with his grandchildren, either when the family came up from the Phoenix area or when he and Linda went down there for a visit.

Randy was a quiet man, who shunned the limelight, but he was most often the first to arrive at a gathering, and one of the last to leave. Making sure a job was complete was his trademark. If that involved learning a new skill, well, that was a natural outgrowth of his upbringing in Ketchikan, at the southeastern tip of Alaska. Randy was also true blue.

It was my good fortune to have become familiar with Mr. Mitchell’s life and work and to have known Randy as a personal friend. May there more people who show themselves, like the scholar and the tradesman, as True Blue.

The Road to Diamond, Day 214: Proactive

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June 30,2025- A year ago, I was sitting aside the woman who gave me life, as she took her last breath. The moment was a bookend. She had worked very hard to make sure that I survived a rough birth, and that I overcame many obstacles, some self-imposed, in order to at least enjoy a long and fairly well-lived life. Her overriding instructions were “Don’t take yourself too seriously” and “Stay ahead of the game”. Mom’s approval mattered far more than either of us sometimes realized, and the struggles I had with self and others, over the year, largely were brought to a close when I reverted to what she had tried to instill, so often and so selflessly, over the decades.

I can never think of a time when her rejoinder “Poor baby” was callous or misplaced. A child of the Depression, who lost her father to cancer in its midst, and saw her four oldest brothers off to war, in the 1940s, and her younger brother as well, in the Korean conflict, was nonetheless shaken when I headed off to VietNam, for what was a mercifully non-troubling ten months of rear echelon duty. She was a paragon of persistence.

In a generally love-filled marriage, that lasted 37 years, she would often find herself facing her fears about her youngest son, alone. It took some constant communication to get her loved ones to understand just how much she wanted for the little boy, who became a disabled man. We each grew into compassionate adults, who would ourselves fight for the well-being of the least among us-and who would give anything for our children and, in my siblings’ cases, grandchildren. I know the latter now, anticipating a grandchild’s birth with a heart that is bursting with love.

Mom is now with so many of the souls she loved, and is looking out for the rest of us. I can count several times, in the past year, when there has been that one extra push to get me over the threshold. It has made some rather tall orders shrink down to hurdle level.

I only hope I have continued to make her proud. God knows, a reciprocal pride has welled in me, for as long as I can remember.