December 1, 2019-
This holiday weekend, now drawing to a close, reminded me that even in the midst of a wonderful celebration, there may come the cry of the needy. I tended to that, as best I could, without besmirching the kindness of one of my dearest friends and members of her family. I was honoured, beyond measure, on Thursday afternoon and evening. It doesn’t take much, anymore, for me to feel that. I go forward, at age 69, with a continued sense of personal worth. Thanksgiving, 2019 was the sixth straight year at table with this wonderful family that has found its way into my heart.
Friday was, of course, our first real bout of winter weather, one month ahead of the actual season. Shoveling a path to the street was followed by a night manning a shelter, which no one needed. That is beside the point, though, as shelters are, by definition, designed to be manned proactively. I have to say, the large Arizona Republic Thanksgiving Crossword kept me very well-occupied, nearly until morning.
Saturday, I finally answered the figurative tapping on the window, and hopefully have drawn the right attention to the issues that were raised by an online correspondent. The rest of the day, though, was spent catching up on the sleep I forewent, whilst manning the shelter. Being up most of Friday night, though, showed that I still have stamina. The evening was graced by the megaton voice of one Jacqui Foreman, who showed both vocal range and mastery of two types of guitar, in a concert at The Raven Cafe. She and her two accompanists delivered a solid three hours of a range of music, from soft rock ballads to acoustic jazz; Ma Rainey, through Frank Sinatra, to The Cranberries and Metallica, all find a spot in Sister Jackson’s repertoire. Among the people who I encountered there were a veteran musical arranger, a little boy who was somehow fascinated by my presence and a young lady who waved at me, from across the room- a case of mistaken identity. It’s always colourful at The Raven.
Today, the last month of a decade of growth launched itself. I tidied up my driveway, which had still been laden with ice and snow. The sun was a big helper, and now the driveway is mostly clear. The breakfast meeting at the Legion was cancelled, so I went down to Cupper’s, for an order of skinny pancakes, with melon on the side. Several transient men were there, warming themselves, waiting for a Salvation Army service, across the street. They had a very sobering account of the snowstorm just passed. At least, there was an active shelter-not the one I manned, but the regular overnight shelter that SA provides, on below-freezing nights. The day ended with a short Baha’i meeting, and now I look forward to a fruitful December.
Work will likely still be slow, but I will be mainly concerned with my dear daughter-in-law, who arrives next Sunday, for nearly a month. Aram will be back, after New Year’s and his last days with the regular Navy. It’ll give me a chance to introduce Yunhee to our fair state and to several of my dear friends. Then, too, is everything that has to do with Christmas time in Prescott, and around the state.