The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 19

4

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.

Systematic

2

July 9, 2024, Bellemont- Staff-wise, I was a none-person show, yesterday evening, as camp entered its second night. The chaperones have their own way of doing things, and take the rules and regulations of the camp committee in stride. We both get to the same place, in terms of serving the campers. That, to me, affirms they are on the right path, even if it is different from the way I do things. Al-Bab, Who was executed 174 years ago, today, stressed the importance of working systematically and in unity, in the course of establishing a truly peaceful world.

This being a Baha’i Holy Day, my post is a mere two paragraphs. Suffice it to say, my parents raised us to approach anything we do in a thoughtful and systematic manner. It took me a bit longer than my siblings, but I have been in that frame of mind, for at least fifteen years. It is crucial to my well-being, and personal safety, moving forward. Expanding this ethic, every problem that families, communities, nations and the planet as a whole face requires a systematic and well-thought-out approach, in order to truly address the matters raised. It doesn’t mean that the same problem(s) won’t resurface again, down the road, but it will provide a roadmap for dealing with them now-and when they rear their human-nature-caused heads again.

The Parthenon, Natchez Trace, and The Sanctity of Family

2

July 10, 2022, Florence, AL- The woman, standing 5’2”, and looking for all the world like a present-day Madonna, arrived at her family’s gathering, and instantly commanded the room. Her strapping teenaged son, who had been alternating between being a responsible big brother and goofing around, for the benefit of the three girls at the teenagers’ table, straightened up with a brief, sharp glance from Mama. Her husband, likewise, exercised a measure of control- distributing portions of food and drink from the adults’ table. to the teens and the younger children. The after-church dinner thus proceeded smoothly, in the small, cozy southern Tennessee eatery. I sensed, though, that there was nothing but love in this family-no patriarchy, per se, just a devoted couple who treasure all their children, and one another.

I had left my friends’ house, in a bucolic section of Crossville, a little after 10 a.m., stopping for a few photographs along the route I had taken to yesterday’s Food Truck event. The most breathtaking was this view of Sparta, TN, from an overlook.

I was given an inkling to spend a bit of time in Nashville, a city that I have tended to overlook, in many of the journeys across our home continent. So, a brief visit was first made to the Tennessee State Capitol.

I headed out of downtown, along a route that took me to The Parthenon, a recreation of the original building by that name, in Athens, Greece. Tennesseans treasure the Classical Age, and this museum is the centerpiece of Centennial Park, a vast and salubrious gathering place for all of Nashville. This lush urban park was dedicated in 1897, one year after the centenary of Tennessee’s statehood. Parthenon has two floors: The first hosts special collections of art; the present exhibit being selections from the private collection of James M. Cowan, a Tennessee native and businessman base din the Chicago area. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5e305abfabc0e4424fd1454a/t/5f0ceb6694be7a33f9f830bf/1594682228862/15139+Parthenon+Cowan+brochure_PROOF+%281%29.pdf

On the second floor, there stands an impressive statue of the Greek goddess Athena. Here are some scenes of the lady, the building and the park itself.

The true circumstances of this woman’s life are lost in the mists of time; yet it is clear that she had a powerful personality, being influential in a variety of areas, from education and craftsmanship to the conduct of warfare. That such personages were dubbed gods and goddesses, by pastoral people, is not surprising.

I wandered about the park itself, after spending about a half hour in the museum, which was about to close, anyway. Here’s Lake Watauga, just north of the Parthenon.

After this long overdue attention to the delights of Nashville, I headed west and took in a sliver of Natchez Trace Parkway, which I encountered while looking for Loveless Cafe, a small restaurant southwest of Nashville. The Trace runs for 440 miles, from Nashville to Natchez, and offers a fine cross-section of Southern wilderness.

The Falls themselves were a trickle, as were other waterfalls in the area. The South could use more rain, as could any number of places. I left the Parkway and spotted a sign for Hohenwald, a town whose name means “High Forest”, in German. It has a sanctuary for elephants and is a haven for people in recovery. It is also home to very devout people, including the family mentioned above. The women and girls were conservatively dressed; the men and boys looked more like they had been working a bit. Nonetheless, they were all very relaxed and could have been any close-knit family, anywhere-an attractive, happy bunch. The very sweet waitress took good care of all of us, and it made for a pleasant end to a solemn (Martyrdom of the Bab) but hopeful day. I came to this northern Alabama town, on the Tennessee River, around 9:30.

I will long remember the strong women, both real and stuff of legend, encountered today. It was interesting that, just before leaving Centennial Park, I encountered two young men who claim to worship God the Mother.