The Road to Diamond, Day 3: Rest, and Planning

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December 1, 2024, Grapevine- We mostly rested today, with my little family gearing up for their week and me planning out, roughly mind you, the month ahead. A brief conference call and a text message, or two, focused on a mid-month Baha’i meeting. Weekends in the first half of December will feature everyone, everywhere, wanting to do everything all at once-or so it seems on paper. Being only one soul, I will probably disappoint a few people, if I haven’t already-but let each one focus on themselves-and what they can do.

December is, typically, a month mostly spent around Home Base I. This year won’t be any different. The Courthouse Christmas Tree lighting, Acker Night, the Red Cross Christmas Party, Wreaths Across America, and the aforementioned meeting of our faith community will keep everything moving, once I get back to Prescott, on Tuesday. There will be two or three day trips to Phoenix and, after Christmas, a short visit to northern New Mexico, with the year-end Boot Drop, on Whiskey Row, bringing a year of tumult and action to a close.

I’ve grown a lot, and groaned very little. Those two polarities matter greatly, in looking at the year ahead-a “9 Universal Year”, which is a year of fruition and of wrapping up aspects of life that have worn out their purpose. Exactly what those are, for me, will be determined in the four weeks ahead, and in the first two months of 2025. I have no great words of wisdom to impart today-other than if given a choice between showing love and forbearance, or holding onto grudges and playing the blame game, choose the former. I rather prefer the High Road.

Emergencies Ascending

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November 2, 2024- The appeal came, as I was preparing to help break down the Farmers Market operation, just after noon. There was an urgent need for someone to supervise a shelter in Roswell, twelve hours away by car and about six hours away, by a combination of air and road vehicles. I had a week, no more, to assist, and even that involved reneging on prior commitments closer to Home Base. After a fair amount of discussion, back and forth, between the decision makers, someone else stepped up, and offered two weeks of volunteering. I am grateful to that person, as I’m sure the people of Roswell will be.

Across the Pacific, in the Bicol region of eastern Luzon, thousands suffered from the wrath of Typhoon Kristine, late last month. I was in Manila, at that time, and maintained contact with a friend who had been helpful to me, when I was navigating between Naga and Daet, in October, 2023. She lost everything in the typhoon’s wake, so I will help with two essential aspects of her recovery. For the bulk of the regeneration, though, the community must rise up and help one another.

That is the way it will need to be, worldwide, over the next many decades-both for the rest of my earthly life and well beyond (like 2050, or 2060 to 2100.) Each of us, no matter how young or old, has a role to play in facing emergencies. My dearest wrote me, this morning, about an emergency she is helping to mitigate. These can be large or small, but will be faced by a heart connection and judicious pooling of resources-financial, material, physical and social. Backing all of that is spiritual energy. When things seemed direst, with regard to the disaster in Roswell (flooding and its aftermath), spiritual pleas went up and the volunteer was found, who could serve as needed. Collective prayer can alleviate the effects of pending disaster, and help gather forces to deal with turmoil that is unanticipated.

Let us work together, unceasingly, to tame the whirlwind.

“You’ll Understand Some Day”

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July 12, 2024, Beatty, NV- So did the attendant, at a convenience market in the small Mohave Desert town of Dolan Springs, explain a decision she had made to a much younger woman. Since I am inclined to wish long and happy lives to just about anyone I meet, I silently concurred. Mom always answered my chortles at one or another of her predicaments by singing “Your day will come“.

After a morning of home base activities, whilst waiting for the final word on a possible shelter, I prepared for Trip # 3, of 2024. Right at Noon, the shelter was deemed unnecessary, and by 1 p.m., I set out. Six hours later, after pit stops in Seligman, Dolan Springs, Las Vegas and Amargosa, I stopped here, so as to join a Baha’i Zoom call. It was plenty to drive here, in heat that ranged between 95-118 (35-47.77) degrees. My AC worked its magic and I was fine, so long as I kept pushing water down my gullet.

All along the drive, I contemplated the when of letting go- of power, of control, of position. This is not an issue for me, personally, but it seems much of the leadership of our governmental, financial and social institutions is unable to pass the baton. I have been ecstatic when a younger person shows up and is ready to take up the mantle of whatever mission I have had in front of me. I will always be willing to lend a hand, but being in charge is a bonus, not a craving.

Perhaps some of the younger ones will experience a strong urge to hold on, overstaying their welcome and even outliving their usefulness. Should that happen, I offer this, right here, right now. “May your time in the limelight impart lessons and knowledge that serve you well-and may those be of the sort that can be shared with the younger generations of YOUR seniorhood. May you remember these days, and know when to take the position of being ONE among many, of a number of generations who work together.”

I will spend much of the weekend with one of my favourite families, with 5 or 6 bright, engaging children, and their loving parent and grandparents. There is no overbearing or insecure adult there, at least not when it comes to the children’s upbringing.

Those who have tried are relegated to the periphery of the children’s lives. May they understand, some day.

Once More, with Cinnamon

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July 11, 2024- The whirling dervish of energy kept on spinning today. At one point, I packed a “go bag” of stuff, went out to the car and found…I had left my keys in the house. After looking about for a bit, I found the carefully hidden spare key and got my act together again.

This is a week of everything happening simultaneously. As the call came for me to join two other volunteers on a preliminary shelter arrangement, I was also dealing with a charitable transaction that involves a phone app-which is similar in name to another phone app. (Don’t worry, both are legitimate.) The school that is getting the cash will wait until tomorrow, and as it happens, the decision on setting up a shelter will also wait until tomorrow.

So, three of us went out to a community about 45 miles west southwest of Prescott, and dropped off a trailer of supplies, to be used in the event of a shelter being established. We then turned around and came back. My part in this matter is done, unless a roaring blaze rekindles, between now and 10 a.m. tomorrow.

The day started with my annual physical examination. I was pronounced a fine physical specimen-younger in appearance than my age. There is only an issue with not drinking enough water-easily resolved, and a slight uptick in LDL-so I am to take one more Red Yeast Rice capsule (total of 2)-and 1 cinnamon capsule, each day. I can do this, and keep on with weight reduction and a fine mental balance. This PA sees all of his 70+ year-old patients every six months, so I will be checked again in January. No worries.

Tomorrow, I will head over to Kingman, up through sizzling Las Vegas and on towards Carson City, spending two days with my Nevada family. Then it’s up through northern California, Oregon and Washington, with stops to see Baha’i and other friends-and across the Straits of Juan de Fuca, to Vancouver Island, the Sunshine Coast, Metro Vancouver and southeast British Columbia, before reversing the route.

That is, unless the blaze rekindles.

Mending Fences

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June 15, 2024- The sun came up, fierce and hot, on this first day of relative time off. There is still the work to be done here at Home Base I, yet nothing will draw me out of state until mid-July, unless I get that call from Massachusetts.

I had the honour of spending a couple of hours sharing stories of life, and thoughts, with someone with whom I thought I had fallen out of favour. No such thing had happened, as it turns out. The Red Cross booth drew passing attention, and one person wanted to have smoke detectors installed. Mostly, though, it was just M T and I, sharing stories of our departed spouses and of those who have won our hearts, more recently.

It was a joy to get back, a short time later, to Farmers Market. My good friend M M told of her own brief time away, which does my heart good, and I offered to help for a few hours each day, clearing the area around her forever home. That offer will stand, for the month or so that I am here, as well as in August, which also will mostly be spent around HB I. The young people who run the Market were glad to have me back, albeit only for few weeks.

After a few hours of rest, it was time to head over to a place from which I had banished myself, for a couple of years now: Synergy of Sedona. S R had sent me an invitation to the Saturday evening portion of their 6th Anniversary celebration, so it was time for self-imposed exile to come to a close. It was an entertaining mix of genres, on the stage: Jazz, folk, spoken word and poetry slam-even a comedic recounting of a lady’s post-divorce westward “drift” , as she put it. The plea for a “divorce shower” was half in jest, half in earnest; and you know, it makes perfect sense. When someone’s life is completely upended, why not a life change registry? I had plenty of help, after Penny passed on, but a divorcee’ ,oftentimes, only encounters the Wall of Shame.

The feeling I got from S R, though we only spoke in greeting, was that whatever it was that transpired, two years ago, had long since flowed into the ocean of bygone and had sunk to the bottom. I may not beat a path to Sedona, all that often, but knowing the door is open does my heart good. Mended fences can stay up.

Camp Notes, Day 8

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June 14, 2024- The little girl ruled the room, as soon as she entered, a smile from ear to ear, dancing with her mother and an aunt, as her surrogate grandfather was rambunctiously playing the keyboards and singing “God Bless The Whole World”, to the tune of “God Bless America”. This was the reason I pulled self together and walked down to the Raven Cafe, this evening, after an exhausting final day of camp. It is seldom, if ever, that I miss a Jonathan Best concert, when I am at Home Base. The man is energizing and affirms every loving soul-like his soul daughter’s child, his former neighbour and me.

Earlier, the campers got themselves together and were out of Bellemont, by 12:30. The kitchen clean-up, including the refrigerator’s sort-out, took another 2 hours. It was done, though, and I was out of the camp by 3. A few hours later, the mail had been picked up and Sportage washed. A Zoom devotional boosted me into the evening and I was okay to go to Raven and focus my attention mostly on a friend who has been suffering, of late.

By 10:30, the energy supply was fading and I bid my younger friend adieu, having drawn out from her a hopeful game plan that involves her connecting with a kindred spirit, in another part of the world, next year. I walked back to Home Base, in peace. Thoughts of my own kindred spirit, in another part of the world, also get me to the end of a day.

Tomorrow will be busy, with some fence-mending, but without the burden of manning a Red Cross shelter, as the problem fire has been put out. I will be glad to man a booth, put away equipment at Farmers Market and reconnect with people from whom I have been estranged, these past two years.

Eastbound and Back, Day 34: Taking Stock

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June 1, 2024, Grapevine- The new apartment, Home Base II, is a tad smaller, kitchen and living room-wise, than its predecessor, but my little family is happier-which is all that counts. I am as comfortable here as I was on the other side of Grapevine Mills- a testament to the serenity that Aram and Yunhee have with one another. True to form, we dined in nicely, for all three meals and I joined them on a shopping journey, this evening. Sushi was for dinner and a Korean comedy followed, starring the actor Don Lee (Lee Dong-seok), a bilingual actor who is well-known in both South Korea and Los Angeles, for playing tough guys with hearts of gold. This one had Don as a would-be arm wrestling champion, who has to face down small time mobsters-a piece of cake, this being a comedy.

June has ever been a month of transition for me: It was the month when I got married, went on pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy Places in Israel, both 42 years ago. It was in June, that my father passed, 38 years ago. I graduated high school this month, 56 years ago, and joined the U.S. Army, a year later. So, June has become my time for taking stock and making whatever adjustments that may need to be made, in life and lifestyle.

In a few days, I will be back in Prescott, Home Base I. There are already appointments and commitments set for several days this month, most intensely the management of a youth camp, in Bellemont, for eight days, starting next Friday. A visit to our Congressman’s office awaits, followed by a visit to my chiropractor- though not because of what might happen that morning. Our Red Cross meeting comes a day later, and I will serve as Blood Ambassador, on June 20, then help with a Slow Food event on June 22.

In the background, though, is a family situation that may trump all of the above. We just take the matter one day at a time. It is the Hands of the Almighty now. Life in the wider world will always go on, regardless of what we face as individuals, or as families.

Perhaps the biggest change, long-term, is in how I am called to serve humanity. I have spent much time on the road, these past thirteen years, feeling that my time was best spent in one place or another. There remain, this year, a road trip to British Columbia, via the Pacific Northwest, and visits with friends, one in particular, and service activities in the Philippines. East Africa had been on the itinerary, until security concerns (relative to a transit stop in west Asia) prompted the airline to scrub the flight.

Extensive solo travel, and solo life, may well be coming to an end, with the above journeys. That’s all I feel it prudent to say for now, but I feel a change in the wind. One day at a time, dear Lord, one day at a time.

The Flow of Life

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April 12, 2024- During the course of the day, at least 64 people donated blood, in a small conference suite of Frontier Village, a Prescott shopping center, located 2.1 miles from the center of town. Each person potentially saved the life of a hospitalized individual, a victim of a fire, or of a car crash, or a beating. In the days when assaults on strangers seem to be increasing, sixty-four people chose to help someone they did not know. A few of them told me, the registrar of the Blood Drive, of how someone else had once helped a family member in need.

Across the country, my mother is alert, mildly talkative, still taking minimal nutrients, and pondering the flow of life. She is ninety-five years of age, has seen four children and ten grandchildren grow to adulthood. She is seeing nineteen great-grandchildren grow into solid human beings. Through it all,she has been a stellar example of how to face challenges, head-on. Her life is flowing towards the delta that is the gateway to the ocean of eternity. It has been, by all indications, a grand journey.

Here in Home Base I, increasing numbers of people are facing the reckoning that always comes with ignoring a simple rule of life: Other people matter, every bit as much as oneself does. The person in a crosswalk, the rider of a motorcycle, a bicycle or a skateboard, the person standing in line ahead of you are not objects to be conveniently shoved aside or targets to be struck by a vehicle. Red lights, stop signs and temporary barriers, or detours, are not nuisances to be ignored, out of a desire for convenience. People who hold an opinion that differs from one’s own are not monsters to be slain or idiots to be publicly humiliated. I know that every community faces a similar challenge, in a world that still is plagued by anonymity and self-absorption. That self-absorption, though, is always headed towards a dead end.

The flow of life will ever go, in the direction that the Universe intends, and while that sometimes seems to head in odd tangents, in the end, it will likewise find its way to the Most Great Ocean.

Happy Places

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April 6, 2024- As I drove into the parking lot of Mayer Fire Department’s central station, a day-glo sign on a house above the road proclaimed “This is My Happy Place”. A similar notice, “Welcome to Our Happy Place”, greets visitors to the Wildflower Bakery, on the edge of Prescott’s Pine Ridge Marketplace. This led me to once more reflect on my own happy places.

The list starts with Home Base I, the cozy one-bedroom apartment where I’ve lived for the past ten years, and by extension includes Prescott as a whole. Within its confines, the city offers other happy places: Raven Cafe, Peregrine Book Store, Yavapai College’s Sculpture Garden, Wild Iris Coffee House, County Seat Restaurant, Prescott College,Lazy G Brewhouse (I stick to their Non-alcoholic IPA), Lifeways Book Store, any one of four Mom and Pop pizzerias, which I visit sparingly, these days and any one of several Baha’i and other friends’ homes. In the periphery are Zeke’s Eatin’ Place, Highlands Nature Center, Thumb Butte, Watson Lake and the Granite Dells, Willow and Goldwater Lakes, Dharma Farm and Granite Mountain.

Once outside HB I, there are the Happy Places on the road-and over the ocean: Samesun Hostel and Ocean Beach; Copper Sands Motel and Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument; Macy’s European Coffee House and Bakery-and the San Francisco Peaks; Brewed Awakenings Coffee House and Grand Canyon’s South Rim; Jacob Lake Inn (coming back in June, my friends) and the North Rim; every last one of the First Nations Pueblos; any number of Orange County beach towns; Santa Fe, with The Pantry and Henry & The Fish; Taos; Cuba (NM) and Ghost Ranch; Manitou Springs; Monument Valley; Tucson’s Old Town; High Desert Bakery and Coronado National Monument.

There are the Baha’i House of Worship and Wilmette Village’s center; Mishawaka and the Crisenberry Family Farm, in nearby Goshen; all of Massachusetts’ North Shore-and downtown Boston; Boothbay Harbor, Green Acre Baha’i School- and the entire coast of Maine; Cape Breton Island; Newfoundland; Vancouver Island; Amarillo, with the Fun Zone and Palo Duro Canyon; Gram’s Place-and all of Tampa Bay; Tonopah and Beans & Brew; Carson City and the Tahoe Region; Portlandia; the Olympic Peninsula; Crossville and the Cumberland Plateau; Aiken and Full Moon Coffee House; Osceola Tiger and Big Cypress; Philly’s Old City, and the Museum of Art in Wood; the ‘burbs west of Philadelphia and Glick’s Greenhouse.

There are Vannes and Daily Gourmand, in Bretagne; Makati, and Manila’s Rizal Park; Daet’s Bagasbas Beach; Luxembourg’s Old City; Frankfurt-am-Main’s Dom; anywhere on Jeju-do; Busan’s Gold King Coffee House.

Happiness, though, is in the mind and heart. The people in the above-mentioned places are what make each of them special. A few would call themselves acquaintances, most would count me as a friend and one has my heart, as no other person save my late wife, Penny, had it. Each of them, and their surroundings, bring me solace. Their list will, no doubt, grow.

Each substitute teaching job that did at least one child or teen some good, each volunteer shift that produced some good, each errand of mercy to needful friends accomplished, each hike done safely and each trip that was not a waste of time is also a happy place.

I salute everyone who offers their home or business in like manner.

It All Happened

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April 5, 2024- Quite a deal, that New Jersey earthquake. It didn’t seem to bother any of my extended family, at least those on social media. It also didn’t seem to have inured anyone. Still, it was an earthquake, in New Jersey. What’s next? Snow in San Diego’s Gastown?

A lot happened here, also, but it was all related to making flight arrangements for autumn-and paying a huge bill for something else. The weather was rather wonky, so it didn’t bother me to stay in, most of the day and evening. I learned of another connection between my Baha’i friends and the local Red Cross team. A friend was helped and I got in a workout. Otherwise, it was me, my spirit guides and the keyboard.

As fulfilling as my full-on days are, I enjoy a day of relative solitude, now and then. So, even when it all happens, all at once or in short order, as long as there is a breather in there somewhere, I am good for another three or four decades-God willing.

As I write this, more snow is coming down. Maybe San Diego isn’t out of the woods yet.