The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 19

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July 10, 2026- Today was the Commemoration of the Martyrdom of al-Bab, a Baha’i Holy Day. On this day, in 1850, al-Bab, the Herald of the Baha’i Dispensation, was executed by firing squad, along with a personal assistant. Baha’is generally gather to say prayers and readings associated with al-Bab, Whose name means “The Gate”, in English. His Teachings were the gate to understanding those of Baha’ullah, Who came after Him.

As Hana is too young to attend such events, I said my own Tablet of Visitation here at the house. Hana sat in the playpen, right in front of me, and listened quietly as I prayed. She does the same when I say my daily morning prayers, each day. I sense that this practice is having an orienting influence on her.

This evening, Yunhee remarked that Hana is much more composed now. She sleeps through the night and only gets irritable when she is hungry. While Yunhee is at work, Hana and I have the feeding routine pretty much down. If she is napping before her medication, she wakes herself on time to receive it. Her lunch meal and bottle feeding are on schedule, as she is awake then and happily watches me prepare the items. I also have her watch me prepare the mid-afternoo0n bottle. After Yunhee gives her the evening feeding, she is ready for a good night’s sleep.

HANA’S NOTE- Papa and I watched some workers take our old sidewalk from in front of the house. Papa says they will put a new one in, next week. Since we also saw them putting in new sidewalks at the end of the street, I know he’s right.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE- 1962 It was a year of transition. I finished Grade 6. Boys began teasing one another about things of which I had no idea. One of the “faster” kids in my neighbourhood noticed my naivete and talked to me about some of it. My father also gave me “The Talk”, before I entered Grade 7.

I had my share of friends in my immediate neighbourhood. Eddie and Allan were the closest, of the boys. After Ellen moved, I would go by her old house and hang out with the Geotis kids, whose father let me stomp grapes for his homemade wine. I got a glass or two of grape juice, that their mother set aside from the batch that was to be fermented. A group of us boys played touch football, in the middle of the street. Some men driving home from work would go around us. Others demanded we stop and make a hole for them. I was probably the worst of the players, but some of the boys felt it was a good thing to include even a klutz like me.

Grade 7, Junior High School, brought the concept of rotating between classes. I had a good Math teacher, Mr. Anzalone, a large man with a booming voice and quick temper, who also had a keen sense of humour and a heart of gold. My Social Studies and Science teachers were also competent. Mr. Anzalone talked with us about current affairs, during our home room time. This was the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and President Kennedy took a firm stance with the Soviet Union. We froze our missiles in Turkey and they, their missiles in Cuba. Thus, did cool heads walk back from the brink of nuclear war.

The A-Team

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May 17, 2017, Prescott-

In my twelve years of public education, 1956-1968, there were mostly competent educators, a few misfits and twelve stand-up, top flight professionals, who either were my teachers of record or served as mentors beyond the immediate classroom.

One, Miss Bernis Hanlon, passed on, over the weekend.  She was my fifth grade teacher, and one of two at the Felton School, Saugus, MA, who went above and beyond, when it came to building character.  It was largely Miss Hanlon’s influence that brought me out of my shell, had me at least approach a modicum of competence in a few sports and join the Boy Scouts.  She taught us that boys and girls, working together, accomplish three times as much, as the genders working separately.  She taught me that having a  then little-known disability (mild autism) was never an excuse for not doing one’s level best.  She built on the framework which my third grade teacher, the then Miss Joanne Nugent, had started.

Fast forward, to 1966-67, my Junior Year at Saugus High School.  I had survived junior high school, the awkwardness, the quirky behaviour, which had generated taunts from otherwise good people, and the fires of our eighth grade year.   Only the stalwart protection of Mr. Paul O’Brien, who died earlier this year, and Mr. Ron Ahern,  and the character education of the late Miss Gladys Fox,kept me on an even keel.  I had endured inept teachers, in three of my freshman classes.   I had mastered grammar and punctuation, with the guidance of Miss Miriam Kochakian, as a Sophomore. It was the junior year that brought Mr. John Quinlan and understanding of Algebra,  Mr. Bernard Hussey and a stellar United States History class, Mrs. Lillian Pittard Bisbee, and love of prose, and the renewed mentorship of Miss Hanlon, by then a colleague of Mrs. Bisbee and a full-on enthusiast of poetry and drama.   The two ladies set the stage for Mrs. Katherine Vande and the best creative writing instruction I have ever had (Senior English).

Miss Hanlon was an integral part of that A-Team of mine, and I can’t imagine how my life would have played out, without her presence.  I know she is smiling down on all of us whom she loved, with that reassuring, infectious Irish grin.