November 4, 2025- The scene in the large room was one of purposeful and laser-focused organization. My entry into the room was almost seen as an intrusion, but I was there as an ambassador. The Red Cross has a program in which volunteers greet prospective blood donors, sign them in and usually offer them water or juice and healthy snacks. This is called the Blood Ambassador program.
Once the equipment was set up, my tools and name tags were brought over. I was informed that the nursing staff would be responsible for the snacks and water. This seemed to be more a function of the layout of the room than any systemic change, so I didn’t worry much about it.
The event was an outreach to the Yavapai-Apache people near Camp Verde, and was held at a lodge near Cliff Castle Casino. The facility is basic, but comfortable, and the day proceeded with little trouble. Those who had signed up, but were no shows, due to today being their day off, were outweighed by those who were walk-ins. Thus, the day was deemed a success. The First Nations people were appreciative that the phlebotomists and nurses had come from Phoenix and I, from Prescott.
Our area Red Cross has made considerable efforts to reach out to communities that have historically been marginalized. The small First Nations bands, like the various Yavapai-Apache communities and other rural areas, such as villages on the remote Arizona Strip, between the Grand Canyon and southern Utah, have been a more conscious focus of our Northern Arizona District. This has partially been a silver lining to the horrific Dragon Bravo Fire of this past summer and early autumn and partially due to a stronger local organization, that is not dependent mainly on resources from larger cities, such as Phoenix or Albuquerque.
One of my greatest joys in life is seeing ties built and made stronger. I hope, in the time I have left here, that this will only accelerate.
September 2, 2025- Coming up to a ledge, on the trail between White Spar Mountain and Goldwater Lake, Hiking Buddy and I spotted nineteen American flags-the sign of a memorial to the 19 Wildland Firefighters, who died in 2013, at Yarnell Hill.
Other forms of death showed themselves nearby.
Beyond, though, are the many signs of life, for which these sacrifices have been made.
We made this short hike, as part of a run-up to my own seven-week absence from Home Base I, and from Arizona. I have had a good summer here, and now it is time to tie up loose ends. Connecting HB with an aficionado of her type of product was another result of today’s efforts. Finally getting through to a critic of local organic farming, earlier this morning, was another.
The rest of the week will see me on a worldwide prayer call, then up at Hopi for a brief visit with new arrivals in the Health Provider community and a Red Cross meeting here, on Thursday. Friday, I will continue my dry run of packing, as the weekend is full of special events, on which more, in a few days.
I have also carefully spoke my peace about other issues, and so far had little push back. Towards that end, I will not elaborate on my thoughts in this forum. We are all entitled to our own opinions, though not to our own facts.
No matter where I go, the sacrifices of those brave men commemorated above, and of others like them, will still figure large in my consciousness. They tied the loose strands of community, by giving their very lives.
August 25, 2025- As we made our rounds at a gathering, this morning, a newcomer to the group asked each of us how we came to our present spiritual path. Each of the members briefly did so, with me being last. As I mentioned my story, one of the other members launched into a loud sidebar. I stopped speaking until she was finished, then explained to the new member that this happens a fair amount of the time. If a member is not interested in what another member is saying, then there is interruption. She wondered whether it is due to so many being hard of hearing. Perhaps. I still adhere to Mother’s Rule # 1: Never interrupt!
I used to shrink in the face of louder, more forceful people. Now, I have learned that, without descending to that level, it is okay to gently, but firmly, speak my truth. There is no need to be boorish, but generally what I share with others is fairly well thought out. I have the right to operate on a two-way street of communication.
I pondered this further, this evening, after watching a woman explain in a TED Talk about her experience with three good friends, in which she was steamrolled by the the three, who got carried away with their own experiences and left her out of the conversation. She at first processed her annoyance with them, while alone in her car afterward. Then, the light bulb went on and she realized that the two-way street applied to her also. She could have asserted herself-and they probably would have given her their attention.
I think about nature, and vacuums, and personal responsibility. In a different vein, from the time I woke this morning, there were messages, questions and calls to duty. I put my social group slightly first, with the Red Cross call and my job interspersed with the time spent in the group. You guessed it: The phone rang, twice, and I took the calls, getting back to the group with a brief description of the situation, so they knew it was somewhat urgent.
In the end, the emergency fizzled, the crew I had assembled went home and I was able to answer the unrelated texted question very simply and concisely, which made the questioner happy. Most times, life is a two-way street. Other times, it can seem like a three-branched artery.
August 13, 2025- Whilst listening to the sous chef at a local cafe talk with another guest, I learned about the lead barista, who he regards as top of the line. I can say that I agree with him, especially in terms of her skill at preparing a wide variety of non-alcoholic beverages, congeniality and careful attention to people.
He also mentioned that she has both interest and skill in a field which is the purview of another friend. This sparked thoughts of carefully connecting the two of them, over the next several weeks. It would solve a lot of looming issues for my entrepreneur friend and be another avenue for the talented young woman.
I joined a couple of Zoom calls for the Red Cross, this evening, and learned that the Administrators have reached out to the leaders of a remote area, north and west of the Grand Canyon, as a result of our efforts in helping those whose livelihoods were upended by the Dragon Bravo Fire that is still raging on the North Rim. Not only the small communities of northernmost Arizona, but also those nearby in Utah, have been underserved over the past several years. This will now be corrected. On the western side of the Canyon, other small, remote communities have asked for Red Cross help, in setting up a shelter system that can be reliable, in the event of disaster. Fire is a serendipitous friend, in that way.
It pays to be alert and prepared to make problem-solving connections.
August 11, 2025- After 46 years in education, I am still somewhat thrown off by questions about very technical issues. Nitpicky matters have just never really interested me, so my tendency has been to give them short shrift. There are times, though, when it’s necessary to get out the notebook and take careful stock of the particulars of things. Today was such a day.
Last night, I went through an online class on Red Cross pedagogy, of all things. Even though it’s better to look at anything academic in the light of day, I pursued it anyway. When it came time for assessment, the technical issues had not registered, and I decided to re-take the class-in the light of day.
So today, after Coffee Klatsch and some checking on the status of fires on the White Mountain Apache Nation, I went through the pedagogy class again, being more careful to take notes on the Course Manual segment. What is covered, and where, became more clear and I cleared the assessment with ease.
Since childhood, I have been hard-wired to primarily go forward, with goals and tasks. Letting self get stymied by technical issues or physical challenges has been an issue at times, but mostly it’s been “Forward, ho!” What is different now is that I am more inclined to plan things out more carefully; chalk that up to Hard Knocks University-and the grace of God. Ten or fifteen years ago, I might have put the re-take off for six months to a year-and it probably would have ended up on the Island of Lost Goals.
Now, I am getting satisfaction from each challenge met, no matter how great or small. Forward motion, more tempered by careful planning, remains among my greatest impetus.
August 4, 2025- Another cancer patient of long-suffering winged his flight to the Spirit Realm, this morning, as I was preparing for a day of service. Like my friend who died yesterday, this man had been receiving the emotional, spiritual and material support of many, who were hoping against hope for a cure. Like my friend, he was simply suffering too much and called to the Divine for release.
Each day brings a passage of sorts to each of us. One either gets stronger, or weaker, or holds the line, in the course of the passage. Each change in body, mind and spirit happens according to which life lessons have been absorbed by the soul. Sometimes, as the body has earned its rest, the spirit goes on to a higher realm. Other times, as there are still life lessons to be absorbed and actions that must be taken by the individual, physical life continues. This is my limited understanding of the process.
I, like Robert Frost’s protagonist, in “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”, “have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep”. The promises kept today were serving as Blood Donor Ambassador at a Red Cross drive in Prescott Valley and serving at the Monday evening Soup Kitchen. There will be several others, locally, that encompass this month. September and October’s promises go further afield; November’s will be fulfilled back here; December’s will be a mix; next year’s fall between the Philippines, Texas and Arizona. “Promise not that which ye don’t fulfill”.
We essentially engage in passages, so that those who paved the way for us might feel fulfilled and those who are following after us might see an illumined path. If I can do both, this life will continue to be well worth each day. My forebears watch from the next world and my progeny look on expectantly. I feel a lot of encouraging energy.
July 24, 2025- There are days when a common thread wiggles its way through the ether, and draws in other threads, which become fastened to it, through a process not immediately comprehensible. Today was such a day. The common thread was my task of getting documentation for possible shelter venues for the American Red Cross.
I had completed the first visit, to Page Unified School District, yesterday, and had made it back to Flagstaff, after a stop at Cameron Trading Post for a Navajo Taco meal. Saving about half of it for a second meal, later today, involved some positioning of the container in what is arguably the world’s smallest refrigerator. American Motor Hotel, where I spent last night, is a space-themed gem, looking somewhat like the brightly- painted lodging establishments now fairly common in the Los Angeles area. The in-room refrigerator is, well, unique and “interesting”. It is designed to hold maybe one or two cold beverages, and a couple of sandwiches. I got the meal container in there, by temporarily removing the shelf and inserting the container vertically.
All in all, though, Americana is a great place to spend a night or two, or even make a vacation of it, as there is an outdoor pool, a funky Mexican restaurant on site, a large outdoor patio area with shaded round tables and room decor that is both amusing (a blue orb that shines and rotates, when plugged in) and thought-provoking (framed posters). The congenial desk staff seals the deal, with cheerful attention to every guest and offering reusable metal water bottles as welcome gifts. Thus, my overnight in Flagstaff became a mini-break from the business at hand. Breakfast at an old East Flagstaff favourite, Miz Zip’s, was a further delight, with homemade corned beef hash as a well-enjoyed choice. Sedona, the lone server when I first came in, was cheerful and attentive to all, even as nearly twenty people showed up after I came in and sat down. Mz. Zip’s has lost none of the ambiance it had when I lived here in 1980-81.
East Flagstaff has its share of fun places, but it was time to head out towards Native American Baha’i Institute, a three-hour drive eastward. The ride was smooth, and traffic moderate, especially once I got past Winslow. I got there, greeted those present, in the Navajo way, with a handshake and “Yaa’tey” (Good day), and went over the requisite forms for a Shelter Survey. Then, it was time for a mini-birthday celebration for one of the elders, with cake. A discussion followed, about non-Navajos hunting elk on the Reservation, by using helicopters. It doesn’t surprise me that this is being done, but I expressed my view that the Navajo Nation Council should be the arbiter of such practices. The elders agreed, and one of them has already filed a complaint with his councilman.
Wanting to get back to Home Base by early evening, I bid farewell to the Dineh friends and drove back towards I-40. Close to the entry point, I encountered a lady who said that a car was on fire up ahead. Lo and behold, a Navajo Police officer had parked near the vehicle that was indeed on fire. Saying a silent prayer for the safety of all concerned, I thanked the lady and turned around, being able to warn another driver about the situation, before taking the detour to the highway. A fire truck and water tanker came by, just before I hit the road.
That brings me to the next unanticipated thread. I gave a ride to a Dineh man who was heading, via circuitous route, to his granddaughter’s birthday party, far to the south. Turns out, he has been working for a modular home manufacturing company, which closed its factory in Page, just this week. The situation is complex, but here is a man, one of many, who is being left high and dry. This is the first I had heard of the situation, but it would not be the last. I heard him out, and got him to a location, south of Holbrook, from where he could catch a further ride. The rest of the drive home, via Winslow, Clints Well and Camp Verde, was serene and in fairly light traffic. I enjoyed the rest of the Navajo Taco in the comfort of Home Base I.
Thus did the thread of my main effort, getting the process going for Red Cross shelters in two more localities, find itself interwoven with wildlife conservation and protection, the housing industry’s woes and their effect on workers and their families and the pleasurable lodging and dining options on Flagstaff’s east side. It was a good 48 hours.
July 23, 2025, Flagstaff- I opted not to stop at Horseshoe Bend, following a fairly successful foray up to Page, meeting the school district’s Maintenance Director, for a walk-through of its shuttered Middle School, which we agreed would make an ideal shelter site, during the time when the property is up for sale. Such sales take quite a bit of time, and in the meantime, Red Cross would be able to house a couple hundred people, in the event of a major disaster in the area north of Grand Canyon and close to the northwest corner of the Navajo Nation.
The smoke from two not-too-distant fires is hard on the residents of Page and western Dinetah. Those with whom I spoke, in the school’s offices, were not even sure of how much protection they had, from being inside. Amazingly, the parking lot at Horseshoe Bend was still packed, with tourists braving the smoke and haze, for the chance to perhaps see the iconic twists and turns of the Colorado River, at this spot, which has been characterized as “the East Rim” of Grand Canyon. If that overlook is anything like the view of nearby Waterholes Canyon, the smoke is a perfect screen. A flagger for a nearby road construction project (more misery on the job) was pacing back and forth, near the Waterholes “viewpoint”.
Despite the outward environment, the Maintenance Director was glad for my visit and quite upbeat for the prospects of the Middle School being useful for us, and for the possibility that lack of disaster might obviate such use of the campus. He was also glad that his part in the tour was mostly indoors. I took the parking lots on by myself- getting a count of spaces. It was worth the drive, and the smoke, to cultivate another friend.
After leaving Page and the smoke behind, I enjoyed a lovely Navajo Taco, at Cameron Trading Post, then found my way back here-spending the night at Americana Motor Hotel, before a second Red Cross mission, tomorrow, hopefully establishing a firm connection with Native American Baha’i Institute.
July 20,2025- This evening, I spent a few hours watching all I cared to, of the 2010s series Blindspot. It begins with a woman who has been injected with drugs that lead to her total amnesia. Of course, nothing of the sort lasts forever, and through snippets of triggered memory, helped in part by her having been tattooed in specific manners, over her body, she is soon faced with two DNA paths, as to her real identity.
I may get back to the series at some point, but this week will be focused on three aspects of my own identity: Red Cross documentation, study of Baha’i guidance, and a friend’s need for transportation. Today was just focused on the leisure aspect of who I am. Breakfast with friends, exercise at Planet Fitness and light reading, followed by crossword puzzles and the aforementioned program.
I have a much firmer grasp of my identity and purpose now, than I did in certain parts of years past. There has never been any doubt as to my family, or the love of my late wife. Any gaps in understanding have more or less began and ended with my own being at peace with self. There are things that seem to have been kept from me, by extended family who have gone on-but none of that has any bearing on who I am now, so bygones are bygones. I’ve elaborated in other posts about the various parts of my life, and the people who are important in those elements. What matters most now is what I am going to do with those parts, as I approach the next quarter century, or whatever part of it I may be given.
There is no amnesia, or conflicting paths, as to who I am or what I represent. That’s what matters most.
July 17, 2025- I decided to take an early morning breakfast at the newly-opened Gurley Girl Bakery, just up the street from HB 1. The problem was that this is a late-opening establishment (9 am), and it was 8:30. Breakfast came from across the road, at Scooters, which actually has rather good burritos, that remind me a bit of the fare at Glenn’s Bakery, Gallup.
Many times, I have found that being proactive needs to be scaled back, in the face of forces that just aren’t ready for what I have had in mind. I had been thinking that it might be useful to go to the Native American Baha’i Institute today, and conduct a survey for its use as a secondary Red Cross shelter, then return back here this evening, Prudence led to changing the game plan to combining this with a journey up to Page, for a similar effort, next Wednesday and Thursday. It is not often wise to get ahead of the game.
In the late afternoon, I spent some time listening to two men who hold slightly different views form one another, but who have become friends by hearing one another out. Their take is that the nation will do best by taking a Big Tent approach, as has been the case in the most successful years of our nation’s history-indeed of the heritage of most nations. Those who exclude people with whom they disagree are also getting ahead of the game. I have been happiest when among those who can express various points of view, so long as they do not advocate violence against those who disagree with them.
In cases of oppression, those who seem ahead of the game invariably end up finding themselves behind.
A Sagittarian Seeker 