The Road to Diamond, Day 130: To Las Vegas and Back

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April 7, 2025- It is always humbling to stop at Delgadillo’s Snow Cap, in Seligman. No one is watching, when one tries the doors with knobs on each side. No spoilers, though; each person gets to learn which knob works, on one’s own. Any place where the servers emulate the grandfather on “Courage, The Cowardly Dog” and pretend to squirt mustard out of a ketchup bottle, can’t be half bad. The food is worth the stop, at any rate.

Snow Cap was a nice break for my visitors and me, on the way back from Las Vegas. They had flown there, from Manila, by way of Incheon, about a week ago. After a week of visiting the Las Vegas Strip and Mount Charleston, Bobot and Thelma are spending a week with me, touring a few places around Arizona. I made the drive up to the Sleepless City, from Kingman, early this morning and found them ready to roll.

We stopped, briefly, at Hoover Dam, for a look from the O’Callaghan-Tillman Bridge, which unites Arizona and Nevada, honouring two men who are held in high regard, by their fellow citizens. Mike O’Callaghan was a highly popular Governor of Nevada, in the 1970s. Pat Tillman was a talented football player with the Arizona Cardinals, who enlisted in the U. S. Army, following the attacks on the United States, of September 11, 2001. He gave his life, in the Afghanistan conflict, in 2004.

The Snow Cap stop came about an hour after we enjoyed a humongous and delicious lunch at Kingman’s Black Bear Diner. Let it be known that the Taco Salad at Black Bear will feed three people, with about 1/4 left to be boxed and eaten later. I don’t know about my friends, as they are staying at a Bed & Breakfast, across town, but I had no need of dinner tonight.

Here are some photos of the day’s festivities.

Bobot and Thelma flank their hosts, in Las Vegas.
Bobot on the Bridge, above Hoover Dam
Thelma not making a call, Snow Cap, Seligman
Ready for a ride in the White Jeep, Snow Cap, Seligman

This should be a fun week!

The Road to Diamond, Day 129: Cleansing

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April 6, 2025, Kingman- On a table, in the backyard work area of our Quad, there is a sturdy aluminum pot, left behind by a now incarcerated former neighbour. The pot is caked in some sort of goop, and once it is cleaned, later this week, it will be given over to the Disabled American Veterans, along with any other items that may still be on the front wall of the property just to our south.

I believe in making left-behind items available to families in need, instead of stocking the landfill at Sun Dog. So, a man’s bicycle, a large pasta strainer, two or three chairs, a few lamps and the aforementioned pot could be still there, waiting for me to take to the Thrift Store on Tuesday morning.

This morning, at breakfast with some fellow veterans, I found myself in a self-deprecating mood when one of the guys teased me about what he thought was my lack of a love life. Thinking back on my teenage years, it was not hard, this morning, to joke about being seen as less than desirable by some of the A-list girls. It felt like a sort of cleansing, as it’s been a long time since such a judgmental pecking order has mattered to me. It feels nice to be in a self-assured frame of mind-and I have my marriage of 29 years, and the Baha’i Teachings, to thank for that confidence.

There is another sort of cleansing afoot, as the Federal Government whittles away at part of many people’s savings, including my own. I will continue to live as I see fit-mostly in a frugal manner, but also doing things like hosting a couple of friends from the Philippines, this week, and visiting family and friends back East, in May. The wealthy officials who are telling us to tighten our belts, are themselves doing whatever they feel like. I will thus do what I feel is right, including some of what I want to do.

So, here I am in this crossroads city, and tomorrow, will head to Las Vegas, pick up my two friends and introduce them to Arizona, over the next six days. All of this feels very cleansing.

The Road to Diamond, Day 126: Reset

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April 3, 2025- The bandage that was placed on my left facial cheek, to stay there for 48 hours, is still there. It will come off tomorrow and a short period of going about with a sutured face will continue until next Wednesday. Then the true healing, the reset of sorts, will begin.

On Monday, I will pick up my two guests from the Philippines, at their home-stay in Las Vegas, and bring them to Arizona for 6-7 days. We will enjoy a variety of experiences, many of them in natural beauty and several that will involve gatherings with friends of mine around the state. It will also be a reset of sorts.

This evening, I attended a crowded dinner meeting of Prescott Indivisible. I had more conversation with my table mates than I have had there in the past. There were also two calls for a show of hands, as to who will attend a protest march in a few days’ time. I will be working at Farmers Market, at the time of the march, so my hand did not go up. Though the door monitor glared and loudly cleared his throat, when I left early to attend another meeting, I owed neither him nor anyone else an explanation. The speaker at the gathering said it best: “None of us has a monopoly on the truth”. There is a nascent reset of attitude, among those on both sides, who have viewed others with disdain. The pain that the nation is beginning to experience will humble a good many people.

After attending an online discussion of Baha’i Teachings, I went to return to my other online sites. The browser was undergoing a reset, and so I had to re-enter a few accounts. Rebooting seems to be a part of life everywhere today.

The Road to Diamond, Day 110: Clarity

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March 18, 2025- My time with the AARP accounting team brought the news that this is the Year of the Pittance. At least I owe nothing and am not depending on a hefty refund. The year really takes flight, once the tax returns are filed. There is a clarity, as to one’s financial situation, which in turn helps define the path ahead-in tandem with family milestones, friends’ plans to visit and the overall prognosis for community needs.

I met with our local Red Cross Director, yesterday, and agreed to hold down the fort during the next six months, at least, in terms of arranging coverage for any shelters we may need,during Spring and Summer. Even when I am on the road, in the first three weeks of May, I can monitor and contact our team members, who are exceptional in times of crisis.

A call came from Filipino friends, who will visit Arizona, from April 7-14. I will meet them in Las Vegas on the 7th, and will gladly show them our state’s highlights, visit other friends, and just be a good host. Anything that can cement a bridge across the Pacific is worth whatever is needed.

Meanwhile, here at Home Base, the rest of March is a quieter time, though Naw-Ruz, the Persian and Baha’i New Year, is two days away-and will be celebrated with feasting, music and dancing. Spring will arrive, the next day, and somewhere in the area there is a trail that will feel my footsteps in honour of Vernal Equinox.

So much is clear tonight, and despite the horrors that unfolded in the nation’s midsection, over the past few days, I sense a sowing of seeds is coming, in more ways than one. We the People will get past all the nonsense and obfuscation, because we can.

The Carson Loop, Day 1: A Path of Constancy

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October 15, 2022, Tonopah, NV- Any journey begins with securing one’s place of return. I began the day with a brief visit to Prescott Farmer’s Market, buying sprouts to help sustain me, whilst on the road and kombucha, for when I get back and need a boost, during the change of seasons. My other close-to-home errand was a stop at Chino Valley’s Harvest Festival, with the aim of helping some other Baha’is set up their booth. Alas, between leaving the market late and having a bit of trouble finding the site, by the time I got there, only one small task remained. I helped with that, and had to leave, which didn’t particularly set well with the Friends, but having to run back to the house and get something needful that I had forgotten, and wanting to be up here in time to connect with two Zoom meetings, I bid them farewell.

Getting to the Kingman area, I found myself in the midst of a rather intense post-monsoonal storm, which dumped nearly an inch of rain on the lower Mohave Desert, only dissipating just shy of Las Vegas. Slotsville traffic was relatively mild, and I passed along U.S. 95, with little trouble. Only one stop, at the Speedway Gas Station, on the north end of Las Vegas (my go-to place for filling up in the city, when on a northward run), was needed. No stops were made this time, in Amargosa, Beatty or Goldfield, but I did notice that the latter will soon have its own Truck Stop, south of the historic district. That will be good for those who otherwise go 95 miles in-between fill-ups between Beatty and Tonopah.

Once here, in this mining community, I returned to Economy Inn, carefully pulling in, and being mindful of a distracted young man, who was pacing around the parking lot, playing with a large sling shot. I checked in, asked about the young man, and was told he is the owner and was probably pacing because he is renovating the property and has to do a lot of thinking. I was also informed that WiFi service there is in abeyance, but that the casino down the street will let anyone use its WiFi.

Thus, I sat on a bench, in the lobby of Tonopah Station, joining the two Zoom meetings, as a mostly silent participant-owing to the intermittent foot traffic and occasional noise of the lobby. This, again, didn’t seem to set well with a few of the meeting participants, but we do what we can in this life, and it has nothing to do with priorities. A young boy sat next to me, for a bit of the second meeting, comparing my laptop to the one he uses at his school. He was also enchanted by a music video, featuring Yusuf Islam joining a group of artists singing his song “Peace Train”. It’s always a joy to befriend children, and there is always time.

After conversing with a man who happened to be from a town near Kingman, and alerting him to ths storm that had hit that area, I went back to Economy Inn, and settled in the night. This post comes to you from Beans and Brews, a delightful coffee house, attached to a Union 76 gas station, and a must-stop when I am in Tonopah. The “kids”, both teenagers and older, are playful and very happy on the job. They also serve good fare.

Different Home Fronts

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January 16, 2020-

It was a productive day, for me and my charges, at Peach Springs School.  I will go back, on Tuesday, for at least next week’s instructional days.  Whatever happens, I feel a strong bond with a few students, right out the gate.  The Hualapai remind me, strongly, of the Hopi and Dineh- and there are people in Peach Springs who have, and always will have, my heart.

This Home Base of mine is similar, in that I have bonds with people here, too.  Like me, though, most of them come from somewhere else.  That is the difference between Native American communities and larger, more recently-settled towns and cities.  The friends here are no less precious, but they know the reality of  moving.

I have been scolded, in the past, for being too often on the move.  None of that irritability, strangely, has come from my Native American friends.  They sense that what occurs naturally, organically, is for the best.  Indeed, several of the students spoke fondly, of their own family trips- to Las Vegas, primarily.  It’s the nearest large city, so they do their Mall visits in the area south of the Strip.

This weekend, prior to  my landing the present assignment, I had planned on going up to Valley of Fire, east of the entertainment mecca.  I have an inclination to put that excursion on hold, and head over to a closer hiking destination, on Sunday and Monday.  Some home fires just tend to burn more evenly, when left smoldering for a few days.

The Golden Path

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January 1, 2020-

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My daughter-in-law and I wandered up the easier of two trails leading to the saddle overlooking the rocky summit of Thumb Butte, one of Prescott’s signature landmarks.  It was about the fifteenth time, I’ve been up there, and Yunhee’s first.  As we spotted four intrepid rock climbers and a dog, in the area shown above, I thought of all I’ve faced and overcome, in the past ten years, and how much there is still ahead.  I have not wanted to walk in the area of the the summit, not because of fear, but for concern it may be damaging to the ecosystem, as no regular trail goes beyond the saddle.  Evidently, the area is safe enough, even at this time of year-with its ice and snow.  So, I could very well be up there, in the near future.

The path ahead, in this new decade, could diverge in any one of a number of ways, and as with anyone, the choice is mine as to which I take.  Those closest to me here have lives and dreams of their own, some of which might involve me, and others in which I need not be included.  That comes with the territory of a late-sixty-something, and I am just glad to have them in my life.

The converse, of course, is also true.  I feel the pull of the road, to my greater tribe, and I feel a bond with one soul, above all, here in Prescott.  My little family is a key factor, too. They will live in the Dallas area.  There will be much that will become clearer, as the winter proceeds, fades and passes.  That I am happy with whatever road, on which my spirit guides take me, has been evident from the last decade.

These next five months will be fairly serene, or so I think now.  My focus will be on generating as much work as possible, whilst working around a few volunteer commitments and personal appointments.  Travel-wise, Valley of Fire State Park, east of Las Vegas, beckons in mid-January; I will take in a concert in Indio, CA, in late February and various outings around Arizona, some on the spur of the moment, will happen during Winter and Spring.

The Golden Path led up Thumb Butte, today, and could lead just about anywhere, over the year, and decade, ahead.  May your paths be fruitful, also.

Mindfulness, Murals and A Milestone

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July 22-27, 2019, Carson City-

In my life since 2011, there have been a few constants:  My community in Prescott, wherever my son is,  Birth Family on the East Coast, friends all over the country and my northern Nevada family, here and in Reno.

I have made at least one stop here, each year since 2012, when  I joined Michele and Tom on a road trip to the Bay Area, for a Baha’i commemorative.  He passed on, a year later, making a visit with Michele, like a sister to me, that much more urgent.  The kids are always a good part of the mix, to say the least.  So, when V was given a part in a community theater’s rendition of “The Little Mermaid”, I set aside this week for my annual jaunt.

After a veritable pit stop in Prescott, I drove up to Kingman, on Sunday evening.  That cut three hours off Monday’s drive which, other than slow traffic stemming from an accident, just shy of the state line.  I noted that Rosie’s Den, a place in White Hills, where I had stopped a few times, to and from Nevada, had closed.  Iron Horse Cafe, in Henderson, was my first stop.  Being still the morning commute rush, as I passed through Las Vegas, no stops were made there.

That meant lunch was in Beatty, about 3/8 of the way north.  This old mining town has its funky side- the huge Death Valley Nut and Candy Store and, until last year, a motel in an old trailer park.  Then, there is Sourdough Saloon, where one enters-finds an empty bar (before noon, anyway) and goes in the back, where a lone waitress is glad to see anyone.

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The fare at Sourdough is simple, but on par with road food I’ve found anywhere. For some reason, Pastrami Cheeseburgers are a fairly big thing in western Nevada.  Sourdough’s is tender and moist.

I hadn’t noticed on earlier passes through town, but looking at the ridge north of Beatty, it seems a Teddy bear is keeping watch.

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Another constant on my drives north is a stop at Beans and Brews, a small coffee house inside Three Deserts 76 gas station, in Tonopah.  The shop is run by high school and college students, who never drop the ball when it comes to congenial service and generous portions of iced coffee, espresso and lattes.  (Photo, courtesy of  http://www.beans andbrews.com)

 

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The rest of the drive was made easier by the stop at B & B.  I noted that Walker Lake is higher, this year, than in the past seven.  The word is that the flow from Walker River has been increased.

Much of Michele’s focus, and mine, is on the little family of four:  V, her parents and infant brother.  Father is a multifaceted artist, whose work includes murals.

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The week included many long conversations about mindfulness and holistic health (always a concern with us Boomers), the efficacy of  fairy tales (specifically the message presented by some Disney versions) to child development, and how best to approach the welter of social movements in our time.  Chess with V was actually more challenging than one would think it would be, with a 7-year-old opponent.  She has a fine analytical mind. We each won a match.

The play, Friday night, featured V as one of the Starfish.  They appeared in one scene, dancing to the song, “Under the Sea”.  It was heartening to see the turnout- a packed house for opening night.  As with any child, I leave it to V’s parents to determine whether to share photos from the occasion.

Here, though, is a video clip of the song.

 

It’s been another good week, which I hope augurs well for Fall up here.  I know that my own autumn will be a full one.

 

 

 

Mixed Blessings

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September 29, 2018, Prescott-

I went to an annual event, this morning, with a full intention of serving, to the best of my ability.  The day started at Hope Fest with my joining the off-loading crew, that helped the vendors  of various merchandise transport their wares from vehicle to booth.  That part always goes fairly well, as there is a highly-motivated group, with no ego attachment to their work.

This year, I agreed to serve much of the day, as personal assistant to the headliner group, which, for propriety’s sake, I will not mention by name.  The group and their manager arrived, around 4:30 pm, and after introductions, I helped them settle in to the Green Room.  I took a seat,  in the meeting area, but far enough apart from the artists that they had no one looking over their shoulders, whilst they were practicing and discussing ideas about their music.

When it comes to  these sorts of things, I am like Las Vegas.  What happens in the room, stays in the room.  At this point in time, I could not and would not tell you the things that were discussed, though there was only honourable and uplifting dialogue.

For whatever reason, however, as soon as two security guards showed up, and announced themselves as the band’s detail, one of the teens who was volunteering with hospitality showed up and said the band manager, who was on the other side of the event grounds, wanted all three of us to get out of the Green Room.  We went outside, but were readmitted by the band members, five minutes later. They apologized to us and said they saw no reason for us to be out of the room.  I wondered, though, how did the manager think to get rid of us, at that particular moment?

The rest of the run-up to their performance went fine.  I got them to select a restaurant and had them write down their selections.  The manager was included, of course, via text.  The performance was lovely, and I introduced a Christian friend to the band members.  They seemed to hit it off well enough. I even got my friend, her sister and nephew prime seats near the stage.  Then, I went and got the group’s dinners and set the table in the Green Room, waiting there with another hospitality crew member. When the band returned, I prepared to go outside, whilst they ate.  That was co-opted, though, by what appeared to be a private meeting, to which I was not invited, among the crew on the sidewalk outside, followed by  a loud, angry message from the manager (still elsewhere) to our crew chief:  “Get that guy out of the Green Room!”  Well, certainly- people are normally given privacy whilst they eat. There was no need for such anger, especially when he was not at the site.  Again, I wonder, were the band members being passive-aggressive and messaging their manager, letting him be an unnecessary heavy?

Needless to say, I left the area and went to help with the breakdown of the stage and artist’s row, as I had promised the event’s founders.   That was accomplished with a much larger crew than in past years.

My takeaway, from the behaviours of both the band and my fellow crew members, is simply to take part in the set-up and breakdown of the next such event, and leave the day to the small, self-contained group, which doesn’t seem to like newcomers.  That is, if I am even invited to participate, next year.

The 2018 Road, Day 1: Prescott to Carson City

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May 27, 2018, Carson City-

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One of my consistent stops, on this particular drive, is to check on the condition of Lake Mead,  a major reservoir of the Colorado River system.

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As you can see, the lake’s level is rather low.  In a good year, the lake’s water level would be above the first shoreline ridge.  It’s been quite a while since the last good year.

I began my journey around 9:20 this morning, then drove to West Side Lilo’s, in Seligman, a town about 1  1/2 hours northwest of Prescott.  A Lilo’s breakfast is sufficient for the entire day, so I would need nothing but a bowl of salad, once I got to Carson City, 11 hours later.

I topped off with gas in Kingman, and after the brief welfare check of Lake Mead, zipped through Las Vegas, stopped at Amargosa Valley to pick up gifts at the Area 51 Alien Center, for a little girl up here, and stretched a bit.  The rest of the journey, through territory I have detailed in years passed, was very smooth, with little traffic.  Coffee at Beans & Brews, on the south edge of Tonopah, was my only reason to stop the rest of the way.  B & B is also a staple of my northwest-bound jaunts.

Four hours later, I found my way to this apartment that will be home for the next two days or so.  There are a growing number of places that afford me this kind of feeling, and to me, this is the true wealth, to have what feels like family, in each part of the country.

Ahead of me are a one-day intensive training session for a Baha’i course and quality time with the aforementioned child.