The Hana Chronicles: Month 8, Day 14

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September 4, 2026- Hana listened, with rapt attention, as a home foundation specialist was explaining his observations to her mother and me. How much she retains from this sort of discourse is anyone’s guess. but it would seem to bode well for when she sits in a classroom and expected to pay attention.

My granddaughter has a very strong sense of place and is finding her way into participating in various situations. There is a canister, in which Yunhee stores yellow beans. Hana used it as a hand drum, this evening after dinner. I played a drum given me by a friend in Arizona, about eight years ago. She stopped her own drumming and started to dance a little bit.

Between her increasing vocalizations and keen awareness, I sense this Autumn is going to find a very active little girl keeping everyone busy.

HANA’S NOTE- I like drums and I am sure Papa will let me play his drum, as long as I don’t try to chew the stick.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-2018 When one reaches a certain level, in personal growth, the Universe is there to put that growth to the test. This was a year for me to be tested

The first several months were quiet and peaceful enough. The Spring semester went well in the Autism Program and I made a visit to southern California, focused on Orange County alone-as Aram had been transferred to Busan, South Korea and was thus back to his roots. In June, I headed off on another lengthy cross-continental journey. Carson City was my first stop, for a three-day visit with one of my soul families. Then came places like Pioche, NV; Salida, UT; Limon, CO. Sedalia, MO; Carthsge. Il and my customary stops in Wilmette and Mishawaka.

I felt comfortable about driving in Canada, and so explored a bit of London, ON and Toronto, before stopping in Montreal for a weekend. As it happened, it was Formula 1 Racing Weekend, and the town was a madhouse. I still found a hostel in which to spend Friday night and Sunday night. Saturday would be at an Air BNB, I took in a great deal of Montreal on Saturday, and when it came time for an afternoon walkabout near McGill University, I parked Elantra on a quiet stretch of road, west of the University. 40 minutes later, I returned. My belongings, a suit to be worn at a family wedding and an anniversary gift were all in the back seat. That turned out to be a dumb arrangement. The back left window of the car had been smashed and my laptop, with my passport, was gone. Everything else was left. Once the insurance company had been called and the police had come along and processed the scene, I took Elantra to a parking garage, taped a plastic bag over the window frame and went with my bag to the Air Bnb. I was the only guest, amazingly, so the owner said I could take turns sleeping in each of the the three bedrooms. I found one to be more than sufficient. After a Sunday of exploring more of downtown, I was treated like royalty at the same hostel where I had spent Friday night. On Monday morning, I reported my lost passport to the U.S. Consulate, which alerted the border station in Champlain, NY, that I was cleared to re-enter the U.S. After getting my window replaced, I bid farewell to Montreal and drove to Plattsburgh, NY-my maternal grandmother’s hometown. Grama watched over me the rest of the way. I took in Ausable Chasm, historic sites in Scranton, and Valley Forge, over the next few days, followed by an evening visit to Oley.

Next came Philadelphia, and the wedding of my youngest niece. Aram and Yunhee, seriously dating, flew all the way from Korea for the wedding. It was an exquisite affair, and my family wholeheartedly welcomed Yunhee. The next day was Father’s Day. We all enjoyed the post-wedding brunch at the hotel where the wedding party was staying. Then the three of us bid farewell to the family and went off to explore more of Philadelphia. After an early dinner, I bid bon voyage to Aram and Yunhee, who had to head clear back to Korea on Monday morning. My destination for the evening was Baltimore. I spent the day there, including a visit to Fort McHenry-one of the places we didn’t get to visit on our journey in 2007.

The road then took me southward, with a three-day visit to eastern Virginia’s historic sites- Williamsburg, Jamestown and Yorktown. A short visit with a dear Xanga friend, in Virginia Beach, preceded the historical jaunt. I made what would be my last visit with my mother-in-law, in Spring Hill, FL, afterward, and bought a new laptop there, thus not having to depend on my phone for all communication. Driving back across the South, I visited another Xanga friend in Crossville, TN, then drove westward, taking in the Civil Rights Museum, in Memphis, as well as Beale Street. Three days later, I was back in Prescott.

Passing the test of losing a couple of important possessions was not all that hard. In the Fall, a well-meaning friend thought I needed female companionship. I had a good lady friend in Prescott, already, but he had “a better idea”. The person with whom he connected me was unsettled, had been abused in childhood and was quietly seething-looking for a target. She saw fit to question my very worth as a human being, essentially. After two weeks of turbulence, we agreed it was not a good idea for either of us, to continue our friendship.

2018 ended with my self-concept and equilibrium in balance. The Red Cross was calling on me more often, I was involved in Slow Food Prescott and was becoming a regular volunteer at Prescott Farmers Market. I was almost out of harm’s way.

Deep Breaths

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July 30, 2022, Bellemont, AZ- The toddler was fascinated with the stenciled bear on my hand drum. She periodically got to strike the drum with its stick, before handing it back to me and watching how I was keeping rhythm, during a series of chants.

Most of the chants were devotional in nature, including one that many people who are familiar with Dineh culture would recognize: “I Walk In Beauty”. Two Dineh elders who live in Flagstaff, about 20 miles from here, came to spend time with us this evening, as their daughter and grandchildren were among the camp attendees. The husband is a Medicine Man (He dislikes the term “Shaman”), and spoke of the holistic nature of healing that is his concern, in his practice. The wife is also well-versed in holistic healing, and spoke of the nature of Dineh philosophy and spiritual practice. She stressed the value of maintaining balance and of unity with all peoples.

In the traditional way, one is told to begin the day, turning to each of the four main directions, breathing deeply and offering thanks to the Creator and asking blessings upon the people in each direction. I make special sense to focus on one’s breath. At the very least, I notice that my heart rate is within healthy range, when I take 3-10 slow, deep breaths each morning, This works well, no matter the altitude at which I find myself. (Here, it is 7000 ft. above sea level, as opposed to 5000 ft., in Prescott or 200 feet in my childhood home of Saugus, MA.).

So, mindfulness and breathing go hand in hand, in keeping a person focused and purposeful.

Blue Star

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December 18, 2020, Sedona-

The tower of strength walked in to the room, where four of us were having an earnest conversation about stars, planets and the Earth-bound, and calmly introduced herself. Her first act after that was to bond with the thirty-ish woman in our group, sharing photos of herself at a younger age, of her grandmother and great-grandmother and of her late first husband, a World War II veteran.

Blue Star is still formidable, at 91, has traveled far more broadly than I and has established herself somewhat, in the literary world. After a fashion, she blessed me and the other men in the circle, and told fascinating stories of her Lakota ancestors, as well as of all the experiences she’s had, driving several times across the nation, and abroad-in Europe and in South America. Self-care, she said, has made much possible, as has looking beyond any current upheavals or mischief at a high level.

The luminous presence has, among other things, operated a coffee house on Charles Street, in Boston, and said the late Ted Kennedy was one of her regulars. She spoke of having walked with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., in a few of the marches he organized and of having met Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, in Newport, Rhode Island, at that city’s Folk Festival, in 1962.

I had a newly-bestowed drum with me, showed it to her and gave it a couple of taps with the drumstick, drawing her approval. A scowl from a fellow Baby Boomer across the room put a stop to the tapping, (Why is it that men who are my contemporaries are so often the wet blankets in a group?), as we place harmony over self-satisfaction. Blue Star quietly assured me that the rhythm was good and that there would be many occasions for the drum to aid in my self-expression.

She has a sense of celestial energy about her, and imparts a re-assuring message: ‘It is a restorative thing, to treasure the people and spaces where one happens to be. If the person for whose presence one makes a journey is not available, then those whom one is INTENDED to encounter should have full attention. There are no wasted journeys.’ She was alluding to her own having come to Synergy to visit with the owner, who happened to be elsewhere this evening. The message was apropos for each of us, as various people sat in the circle for a while, then got up and went to an impromptu Blues guitar session in the next room, or wandered outside for the night air.

Blue Star showed me what may well lie ahead, should my fate, as another friend recently wished for me, be one of “iron longevity”. I look forward to seeing her again, at one of the gatherings here.