When Agreeable


March 13, 2023- A call came to me, whilst I was sipping coffee and reading the Monday newspaper-a small affair most days. Seeing the name of the caller, I figured it was an urgent call to action and I was prepared to answer the call. These two weeks have activities planned, but none that couldn’t be cleared for the sake of an emergency.

It turned out that the situation was “kinda, sorta”. I would be on stand-by, for three weeks, not two, and would thus have to cancel a few more long-standing commitments, for the sake of an iffy situation. There may yet be a call back, over the next few days, but I am moving forward with what is in front of me.

I had a weight reduction check, about an hour later. Progress is generally solid and consistent, but one area has plateaued. It’ll get going again, with a few tweaks of my own, and with due consideration of the suggestions made by the coach. I am not buying into the catalog of this company, lock, stock and barrel, nor am I going to join the regimen of outside activity scheduled by the club. I may participate, every so often, in an early morning activity, but my early a.m.s have generally been “ease into things”, with more vigourous actions from late morning onward. I am not the cookie-cutter all-American Macho Man.

That last thought set me to looking back, on just how much of a solo act I have been, activity-wise and schedule-wise, since Penny died. Hiking Buddy, when she feels up to it, has provided an exception-and there are people with whom I enjoy spending time, in other areas. Mostly, though, I have returned to marching to that drummer who set my pace, before I was married. The beat is a lot more spiritual now, and Penny’s soul, along with others, has a good deal to do with how the beat plays out, but I don’t consult all that many humans about things that impact only yours truly. Visits and joint activities, of course, are agreed upon-but my solo act, otherwise, follows those spirit guides.

That leads to the rest of the week-and a long-overdue visit with some old friends will be Stop One, tomorrow, and a few other places and people lie on the short itinerary. It’ll all happen, when agreeable.

Around Hometown: Day 5


May 21, 2021, Saugus- Mom gave me my marching orders. I am to do several sit-ups, every day, henceforth, eat smaller portions and get out on the trail more often. While she is still very concerned with COVID variants (she is fully vaccinated, but frets about the deniers causing havoc), she knows I am not at risk for the disease. Thus, taking care of the Septuagenarian Sag is to be one of my main focuses.

This comes with her own promise to me, to engage with her fellow residents and end her long self-imposed isolation, which came to an end with her move of last week. There are several activities she can join now, so I look forward to the resumption of her letters-which she stopped, out of annoyance at being stuck in the house, for so long.

Today is the twenty-first day of the fifth month, in the twenty-first week, of the twenty-first year, of the twenty-first century. Twenty-one is the Industrial Age’s hallmark of maturity. This, in and of itself, means little to actual maturity, which varies from person to person. When I was 21, I was in the throes of adjusting to a rapidly-changing set of circumstances, in my life, but using the methods of an adolescent. Maturity, for me, came around age 40. The century, though, has begun heading into its maturity, with the human race, likewise, being dragged kicking and screaming into its own maturity. Forces like nationalism, racism, misogyny, sectarianism, patriarchy and material jealousy are bound to fade-though not before each goes through its “wounded predator” stage.

My current visit to my hometown will come to an end, tomorrow morning, and the road southward, then westward, will occupy me-and this blog. I have my marching orders, though, and my filial sense has not faded, even as mother and son share the status of advanced age.

Farewell, childhood home, and may you become the place of memories for another family.

My childhood home
The old backyard
Our dogwood tree

Face The Lion


October 28, 2018, Prescott-

One month remains of my being 67.  October, thus far, has been another instance of what the forest rangers call “facing the lion”, the feline in this case being a mountain lion (aka cougar or puma).  The broader meaning of this, of course, is facing one’s trials, without flinching.

I stood for what I believe, earlier this month, was castigated for it by a troubled soul and am not sorry for standing my ground.  I have promised to not harp on this, so I won’t. The most important thing is that, if I am all but ordered to compromise who I am, under pain of disapproval- I will take the scratches and bite marks of disapproval.

Physically, I have recovered from a mild injury to my left knee and am maintaining a rehabilitative exercise regimen.  It was gratifying to have returned to our local Planet Fitness, this evening, and to have been able to complete my usual exercise regimen, with a few modifications.

Yesterday, I chose to stay close to home during the day, rather than go down to Phoenix for what would have been a mere hour, before returning to this area for a Halloween party.  The day was greatly satisfying, though, as I attended a Fall Festival, at the site of the chiropractic office which I use.  There were many raffles, and I won a plastic sled.  The sled ended up going to a five-year-old boy.  I believe every child ought to have the enjoyment of sledding on snow- and in his grandparents’ yard, to boot!

The Halloween party, at my lead teacher’s home, was a masterful blend of food and imaginative visual effects.   There were “talking” creepy ghouls and monsters and a fine variety of hot and cold buffet items.  The best part, though, were their three German shepherds, including a very vocal albino G.S., named Lloyd.  He and I got along just fine, as I would talk back to him, saying it’s all okay.

I got mesmerized by yet another replay of Bette Midler’s classic “Hocus Pocus”, which we used to play every Halloween, when Aram was a child.  It’s been a while, so looking back on how different child characters stood up to Bette’s character and her sisters was a treat.

Yes, some lions are more comical than others. Some are more problematic. All must be faced with confidence and courage.