Sixty-Six, for Sixty Six, Part LXIII: My Dream Pack


September 18, 2017, Prescott-

A writer whom I recently began to follow has written, of late, about the concept of the Dream Pack- essentially, a way of life, place, group of close people which, collectively help each being realize the fullness of his/her particular dream.

The outpouring of love I have felt today, in person and online, brings me to reiterate what I have said on occasion, in the past.  People have come, gone and, in a few instances, returned.  I have found places, near and far, which bring me inspiration, for a time, and while some have lost their allure- others have drawn me close.  My way of life remains pretty much the same, though the accent, of late, has been on service, rather than a trail-side regimen.

My Dreampack , then, is large and varied:  My son, in Korea, is a phone call and an ocean away.  My siblings are a mere continent apart from me.  I have a nephew, in Los Angeles, who is a full schedule, or two, distant.  Mother is East Coast-bound, but will get a letter a week from me, and will respond, when she can, with reassurance that she is just fine, and inspirational comments.  My solid network of friends, in the Prescott area, and across Arizona, make it certain that, if I feel lonesome, it’s my own doing.  The same is true, all over North America.  I am never far, when in my car, from someone who at least has time for a cup of “joe”, or tea, or Jamba Juice.

There is a teen boy, who I am sponsoring, across the Pacific.  Someday, I will visit him.   My Dream Pack is large and varied, and includes kindred souls in the Philippines, South Korea, Australia, India, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Tanzania, Iran, Russia, Romania, Italy, Spain, Germany, Luxembourg, Belgium, Netherlands, Scotland and beloved France.  Yes, that’s a lot of turf, for one who lives on a shoestring, but since when has that been an impediment?

My Dream Pack has been a series of Chinese boxes, opening up to yet another, and a series of amazements, (yes, I just made up a word), which will continue.  The Universe is endless in its provision of many kinds of wealth.

Immortal She


March 5, 2017, Prescott-


The wind has blustered, all day.

It blusters, still.

The water level in the reservoirs is high.

Cottonwood Peninsula is inaccessible.

Far away, across the Pacific,

a young man celebrates turning thirteen.

North of where he revels in his adolescence,

another young man, nearly sixteen years his senior,

thinks of his departed mother.

Gone six years now,

she lives on in memories,

and watches us all,

from the Placeless beyond.

I am asked,

‘Have you moved on?’

I am asked,

‘Are you not lonely?’

Behind those queries

is always the thinly veiled,

‘How about ______?’

‘What’s wrong with _______?’

The truth be told, though,

I am secure.

Other times, I may think,

‘ I have this blotch on my cheek’.

‘I’m missing a few teeth’.

I may say, under my breath,

‘I have no means to support another person’.

The truth be told, though,

I am secure.

She, the immortal spirit,

would let me know,

if my life should change.

She would let me know,

if someone waits in the wings;

just as she let me know

that she was waiting,

so many years ago.



Photos are of an at-capacity Willow Lake.