The Hana Chronicles: Month 7, Day7

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July 28, 2026- “What is boody boody doo?” , my granddaughter asked, this afternoon, when I warbled the nonsense phrase. This is the first time she has asked a coherent question, so I gave her a simple answer: “I’m just being silly.” Her slight smile let me off the hook. She did another first, shortly afterward: Planting her feet firmly on the floor, as she stood up, with my support. She wanted to look out the window-and of course touch the blinds. Then, she contented herself with opening and closing the gate to the playpen. It’s plastic and opens out, so there is no danger. She did this for about twenty minutes, then wanted to go back inside the pen and play.

I told her that she has eight special qualities: She is very smart; she is pretty; she has good health-including exercise drive and appetite;she is assertive; she has a great sense of humour; she is curious; she is adventuresome; she has a big heart. I see all these, regularly. Of course, she is an infant and does infantile things, but tantrums are rare, because her needs are anticipated and the three of us are good at picking up on her cues.

HANA’S NOTE- Papa can be very silly, but I love his silliness and how he dances me around the playpen.

YEAR IN REVIEW-1980 A bad day is often followed by a good one. A bad decade is likewise followed by a nice one-if the right lessons are learned. This year saw me leave Villa School, and enter a a Masters program at Northern Arizona University. The better part of this year saw me continue to bounce off proverbial walls. I still committed social faux pas, though in each case, I suffered immediate consequences and learned from them. I finished at the Villa with my head held high and went into summer classes at NAU, after a two-week break.

I found a town house, whose tenant needed a roommate. Although we were polar opposites, it worked, for about three months. Much of that time, I was on the road-going up to Oregon and back, with a fellow student. Another jaunt took me to Santa Fe, Taos and Los Alamos, with another student who was going one way. I caught a bus back, from Albuquerque. My housemate connected me with a Sky Y group that was going to Havasupai. I was hired on as a chaperone for a group of middle school kids. It was a good, strenuous hike and I got to see Havasupai Falls-a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

I worked at a part-time job on the NAU campus, devising assistance programs for handicapped students in three public school districts. It was a rather nebulous assignment and I don’t think I accomplished much, other than give inspirational talks to juniors and seniors at Grand Canyon High School, in Tusayan and at Williams High School.

In November, I felt stirrings that I had not felt since I last saw Katie, at UMass-Boston. The first part of th emonth, I went with a couple of other students to Durango, CO and visited a former student at Fort Lewis College. At the place where I stayed, a friendly young woman caught my interest, though she had her life and I had mine, It was, though, the first time in several years that I felt someone special was about to come into my life. On my birthday weekend, I went to San Diego and stayed in a hostel. I met a few other ladies there, and felt more relaxed around them than I ever had in Flagstaff. Something, it seemed, was about to happen.

That semester, I took an anthropology class, which entailed field trips to Hopi and Zuni. In early December, there is a house blessing ceremony at Zuni, called Shalako. Our class went there, and huddled in the cozy main house. There were several other visitors there, mostly anthropology buffs and a couple of professors from the University of New Mexico. One of these visitors was speaking Spanish with a New Jersey accent. A classmate remarked on the “paucity’ of her speech. I glanced at the visitor, and we locked eyes. She then came over and started talking to me, in English. Her New Jersey accent was not off-putting in the least. Neither was anything else about her. This was Penny, and my life was about to experience two sea changes.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 7, Day 6

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July 27,2026- Hana has two new skill projects: Reaching for everything and standing up, with assistance. The first one has us doing our due diligence on child-proofing. The second one is something I am more than glad to assist, She can stand, with my support, for about 15 seconds at a time. Then, she has to sit down, but will want to stand again, a few minutes later. She did the same with crawling and sitting, so I can see what our agenda for the next several weeks will be.

My granddaughter has a keen sense of humour and of mischief. While I was scuttering about, making dinner, this evening, she would reach up from her bouncy chair and grab the hem of my shorts, with a huge grin on her face. She also likes to take the cover of one of the recliner’s arms and cover her face with it. She does take correction, though, when her antics might present a problem. It is not necessary to raise my voice; I just explain to her why it is not a good idea. There will betimes, when she is a toddler, when reason will take a holiday, but even then, a firm “No” will hold.

Hana is slowly taking to the mimicking crab, talking to it and giggling at its copying her. Of course, it mimics the giggling, too. I will make silly noises or speak a detailed message. It copies those, also, which amuses Hana as well.

HANA’S NOTE- I woke up very early today. Mommy and Papa both came to my crib. Mommy took care of me. She always does. Then, we all went back to sleep, but I woke up for good, an hour later (what Mommy said). I sure took long naps today. Papa makes sure that I get a nap when I get cranky.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE- 1979 My Dad asked me, at the end of my month-long visit in June, “Are you going to be traveling the rest of the summer?” My answer was “Not all summer. Just a bit.” I caught a few Greyhounds. The first was to Frankfort, Kentucky. I looked around that capital city a bit, then visited Hodgenville, Abraham Lincoln’s birthplace,and Mammoth Cave National Park. After that, came a stop in Nashville, and a hitchhike westward, as far as North Little Rock, where I slept behind a gas station. The next day, a couple of sisters headed towards Las Vegas picked me up, stinking laundry bag and all, and let me have the spare bed in their hotel room, in Albuquerque. The next morning’s shower never felt so good. I went south, after doing my laundry in the hotel’s coin-op. A couple of rides later, I was in Las Cruces, where I caught another Greyhound to Casa Grande, AZ and from there hitched to Toltec. The rest of the summer was spent doing my Buildings and Grounds chores at Villa School. Evaporative coolers take a fair amount of maintenance.

My work year, both the Spring of Year One and Fall of Year Two, saw me carry on a bit more structurally in my teaching. I was better able to teach multiple skill levels and actually conveyed Algebra and trigonometry, in a coherent manner. There were a number of Iranian students who attended this school, especially after the Revolution. I made my first visit to San Diego, in March, as I had no Spring Trip assignment from the school. I ran into the Villa group at San Diego Zoo, but otherwise kept my own schedule. A couple of visits to Mexico also took place this year-Hermosillo and Puerto Penasco. The latter, under Villa auspices, was called the “Penasco Fisaco”, as a student and I were set adrift in the Headmaster’s boat. We weren’t far offshore, and managed to get back to the dock, but it incensed the boss, and i was never invited to go back to his cabana again.

In December, I hitched a couple of rides. the longest of which was from Kansas City to Syracuse. During that long drive, I found myself taking over for a toddler’s frazzled mother, rocking and calming the little girl until she wanted her mother again. That was about the longest drive without taking a room, or a campsite, that I have ever taken.

The long decade of personal struggle drew to a close, and the next ten years would bring one sea change after another.

Fulfillment

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December 9, 2025- In 2012, I drove out to San Diego, a favoured destination since 1978. Having befriended several bloggers from Los Angeles and nearby Orange County, I arranged to meet four of them on this first westward outing, since the death of my wife, Penny, a year earlier. Three have moved on from our acquaintance, and one has remained, a faithful, supportive older sister. She has seen me outgrow a lot of self-imposed limitations and cast off a lot of baggage.

Ever gracious, my friend rose from the park-style bench and greeted me with a side-hug, on this last visit to southern California for a while. (Except for a possible pit stop at LAX, next month, which hardly counts.) We then headed into the Ladera Ranch branch of Corky’s, a lovely chain of breakfast and lunch spots across Orange County, eastern Los Angeles and the Inland Empire. Our respective years were shared, as well as what lies ahead for each of us, in very different spaces. J is always a voice of reason, so I value her insight into my impending move to Texas.

The greatest driving force in my life, this month, is honouring the friendships that have grown over the decades that I’ve been in Arizona, and the nearly twenty years that I’ve been active online. So it was an easy drive to Orange County; it will be a joyful hike at Sedona’s Red Rock State Park, tomorrow and a blissful, if a bit wistful, series of gatherings from Thursday to next Wednesday. I have an enormous amount of gratitude to this state in general and to Prescott in particular, for having helped me come out of an oversized shell. It has helped me develop a sense of fulfillment.

I made it from Banning to Ladera Ranch, thoroughly enjoying our two-hour visit, then made a farewell drive down I-5, thanking the ocean for being such a comfort and an affirmation of all that matters in life. Over the hills of northern San Diego County, up I-15 along with hordes of home-bound commuters and along the stretch of Highway 79 north, through suburban Temuecula and rural French Valley to Hemet and back over to I-10, it was back towards Arizona.

At midnight, I’m back at Home Base I. Another promise remains to be fulfilled-and that makes all the difference.

The Road to Diamond, Day 43: Thin Veil

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January 10, 2025- Someone close to me mentioned feeling a very strong presence, while in great discomfort a few days ago. There was a clear voice that said to stretch fully, and upon doing so, relief was felt almost immediately. This person was physically alone.

I have heard a voice, on occasion, usually telling me to get up. Since I live alone, it is quite apparent that a spirit guide is making sure I get to where I need to be. More subliminally, I get messages regarding which route I should take, when on the road, or even on routine drives back from the next town over. Once, the seemingly oddball route that was recommended took me by a lemonade stand, where the girls were raising money to buy their father a birthday gift. That was well worth the detour.

We are not separated from the departed by atmosphere and ionosphere. It is basically a matter of: We need a physical body in this life, and we don’t need one in the next. Higher level, to my understanding, refers to the level of functioning of a spirit, once released from the body. It is only a slight veil that separates us. I have felt departed relatives, and my late wife, Penny. Ironically, one afternoon while she was bedridden at home and we had taken a nap, she awoke before me and told me that she had seen my ancestors standing over me. I am certain she is doing the same now.

In what is probably a hybrid of spiritual promptings and common sense, I have determined it’s best to hold off on a planned San Diego visit, next week, as the weather forecast calls for more Santa Ana winds in that area, on the days I was planning to be there. I will head down to southern Arizona instead, and the days in March when I would have gone there will likely be a better time to go to SoCal.

The veil is thin enough, that we can get fine guidance, if we keep intuition keen.

The Road to Diamond, Day 34: Year of The Open Gate

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January 1, 2025- The format of the opening gives its message loud and clear: This is a place where YOU decide to go forward, or not. The half-gate, in Coconino National Forest, behind Sedona Red Rock Junior/Senior High School, offers entry to trails leading up Scheuerman Mountain and along the Scorpion-Pyramid route. Hiking Buddy and I chose to do the Scheuerman.

The gate that isn’t a gate.

So began the Year of the Open Gate. What I do this year is totally open-ended. I have plans and goals for the the first four weeks of the year: Spend next week working, in Prescott schools; visit friends in San Diego and Orange County, the following week; focus on Racial Healing and Justice, during Martin Luther King Day and its preceding/following days.

It is the end of January and the first half of February though, that will set the tone and the agenda, for the rest of the year and beyond. I will be in the Philippines, from January 28-February 18. That could well be the precursor to a major change in my life. The central message of a show I just finished watching, (“The Outpost”), is that each of us is responsible for making wise and independent choices, but I knew that. We will see what choices are made at that time.

Regardless, this year will see me constantly on the move-no surprise there-and ever in the company of family and friends. Plan A involves one set of moves and downsizing. Plan B involves other travel, and still some downsizing. Details will come as we go along, for reasons of prudence. This is not a year for announcing grand plans ahead of time.

In closing, here are some scenes from Scheuerman Mountain and Vista.

The icons of Sedona: Cathedral Rock, Bell Rock, Courthouse Butte, Chicken Point and Airport Mesa are all visible from Scheuerman Vista.

Tonalea

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March 27, 2024- “You don’t need to leave a tip. We didn’t really DO anything.” The cashier thus made her appeal to the dignity of one and all, as I paid for a couple bags of freshly ground coffee. I thought how refreshingly decent this woman is, and how sentiments like hers give the lie to the notion that Gen Z is collectively self-centered and always has its generational hand out. (The Greatest Generation, once upon a time, expressed similar sentiments about us then-youthful Boomers, but I digress.)

One of the bags was going to the old friend I was en route to visit, and to his family. C lost his wife of 40 + years, a few months back, and so I was heading up to Tonalea, to offer condolences and emotional support. The community’s name in the Dineh (Navajo) language, means, essentially, Red Lake. There is, in years of heavy winter and spring precipitation, an actual lake, off U.S. Hwy/160, on the community’s north side. This year, I saw no lake.

It was a smooth ride from Prescott to Flagstaff, where I bought the coffee from Macy’s European Coffee House and Bakery, owned by another old friend. Traffic in and around Northern Arizona University reminds me a bit of Manila-everyone is doing their own thing, and gridlock is not altogether a rarity. My upbringing helps me transcend that, as a motorist here and as a pedestrian in my second favourite big city (after San Diego). Looking out for others makes for a longer journey, but for better self-esteem, at day’s end.

Driving from Flagstaff to Tonalea was even smoother. Dineh and Hopi people are quite orderly and civil, in their driving habits, and the area is sparsely polulated, to boot. As the two Elephant’s Feet (grey sandstone rock formations) looked on, from across the highway, I turned on the graded dirt road that winds around, towards Black Mesa, and reached C’s homestead, five miles inward. There he stood, as I arrived, at about the same time as planned.

C reminisced about his wedded life and what had led to his wife’s passing. Her suffering, it seemed, was mercifully short. We then talked of the connection between those of us in the flesh and our departed loved ones. Years ago, as Penny and I lay together, she told me she had seen my Penobscot ancestors standing over me, as I slept. I was not surprised by that. The ties that departed souls have to this world are very, very strong. Everything that has happened to me, both the serendipitous events that have transpired and my protection from malevolent forces, over the past thirteen years, or even before, has been due to those who have gone before me, and who make up a bulwark of energy that lets me do the bidding of the Divine.

After a two-hour visit, and my reassuring him that all will be well, even with the swirling changes that seem to bother him so, it was time for C to get back to tending to his family, working on his fences, and keeping livestock from eating his trees. It was also time for me to head back to Prescott, with a “halfway stop” at My Pita Wrap, a small Mediterranean restaurant on Flagstaff’s main drag. Going back up to Dinehtah, with its otherworldly rocks, grounded people and mystical energy, is always a reset for my own personal energy.

Triple Decker

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August 13, 2022, Lake Havasu City- One by one, friends of a young man whom I have known for about three years came filing through the door of the home he shares with his father, in this desert community overlooking the Colorado River. It is his thirtieth birthday. He allowed as how this was the biggest birthday bash he has ever had-and I would not have missed it for the world. He sees today as a confirmation of his change in mindset. This was bolstered by going around and asking each of us what one piece of advice we would offer him.

I admit, I don’t know what it feels like to have a birthday where no one attended the party. Even when it was just initially the three of us, others have always showed up and made the day festive. Not everyone is so fortunate-and God knows, there are those who get arrested, or even killed, on their “special day”. Thankfully, this has not happened to anyone I have known, save one person, back in the mid-90s. There are many who do, however, end up noting their birthdays nearly alone. Today’s celebrant was one of those, on several occasions, over the years.

Another aspect of this day is the marking of three decades. Often, the “Big Three-Oh” is a mark of maturity, or at least the glimmerings of such, in a person’s life. For me, back in 1980, it was the day when a woman in San Diego told me I didn’t need to try so hard, in starting a relationship. She was in a bond of her own, so was not dropping any hints-but she said I was more physically attractive and personable than I was allowing self to acknowledge. That was borne out, a week later, when I met Penny in Zuni, NM and my life changed-for the next thirty years, if not forever. My thirties, which my last landlady in Maine had told me, two years earlier, would be enjoyable, were also the period in which I shed a long-standing bugbear: Alcohol dependence; and changed the scope of my faith, from Catholic to Baha’i- more in keeping with my own belief in the essential unity of all people-and the wholeness of Creation.

I became a father, towards the end of the decade, and now our son is in his own thirties, a loving husband, a diligent student, and a man on the cusp of a senior rank in the U.S. Navy Reserves. He has a solid life plan, a tad more organized than I had at that age, and which is also flexible enough that no change in humanity’s fortunes can derail it.

So, I see my young friend also finding a viable path, one that he and his best friend here can navigate together, if they wish. I sense that his days of viewing the world though the half-empty glass, a worldview rooted simply in fear, are over and that his considerable gifts are going to bear fruit.

Life in one’s thirties is indeed a triple-decker, of knowledge, wisdom and meaningful action.

Belated Thoughts On A Blood Red Full Moon

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May 22, 2022- It’s been a week since the cosmic event that had some people focused on the night sky. In my case, the influence was felt at the time, but not seen-as San Diego was under the May Gray phenomenon, of dense cloud cover. The pull of the full moon was there, though.

A young lady, homeless, was screaming at the top of her lungs-at no one and at everyone, outside the walls of the hostel where I was staying. Inside the hostel, two roommates in the room next to ours were fighting over keeping the window open. (“You really want the homeless people to climb in?”, said the one to the other.) Reality check: A few homeless people had already managed to follow paying guests into the building, but were simply staying under the stair wells and keeping to themselves. Climbing through windows was certainly possible, but unlikely. The conflict was settled, at least until morning, when little old me traded rooms with the person who wanted the window open. The baying at the moon subsided and we all went to sleep.

Last night, at Synergy Cafe, the manager related his difficulty in sleeping, over the three nights subsequent to Blood Red. My own dreams were certainly vivid during the same period, and I was in several strange worlds, each night. How much that had to do with the eclipse, or the moon phase itself, is up for discussion. We are all creatures of speculation and interpretation, so it could have been, as one of my brothers is fond of saying, a matter of what was eaten for dinner those nights. Unresolved conflicts, the vortex, or the unseen hovering of sketchy spirits could also “explain” things.

I was probably better off having been under the cloud buffer, but it would have been interesting to have seen the events in the heavens. Today, here at Home Base, contenting myself with tidying up and organizing three kitchen drawers of assorted items, and buying a new set of bedsheets, I’m grateful for the ebb and flow of excitement and mundaneness.

Year End Reflections, Part 2: Sojourns

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December 24, 2017, Prescott- I spent yesterday at the Grand Canyon Baha’i Conference, in Phoenix, but elected to stay up here today, as some chores need doing, before I head out on the Greyhound journey to Spring Hill, FL, and a visit with Penny’s mom and sister.  It will be odd not having a vehicle, by which to stop, visit with friends en route, or to respond to others who may live not far from them.  This is, though, a journey of focus.

I have made such focus a more important part of my life, this past year. People and their feelings have been one such concern. Reorganizing my blog site, and making a more concerted effort to attend to others’ comments, as well as their own blogs, has been another.

My travels,while still extensive, going across the continent, yet again, were more devoted to family, friends, and specific purpose. I saw my son off, on his way to Korea, from San Diego, at the beginning of the year.  OC, always a part of any California visit, took up the end of my temporary farewell, to the light of my life.

I can never go without a visit to a little girl and her family in the Reno-Carson City area, so that came first, in the summer.  It seemed capricious to dart back to Arizona, just to deliver a bundle to people who didn’t seem to care, one way or the other, but it mattered to the sender, so I did it.

Friends and family, across the Midwest, the Northeast and Upper South, were more appreciative of my time with them.  Mom always needs to know her wanderer is in a good place, physically and emotionally, so when I was in my hometown, she had the bulk of my attention, but not in as hovering a manner as previously.  A side trip to Maine, also very focused, help break up any sense of hovering.  So, too, did meeting one of my newborn grand-nephews.

My youngest niece and her upcoming wedding brought me to Philadelphia, so as to at least meet her fiance.  Another little grand-nephew was also there, along with his big sister, whom I also had not met.  There was a focus on history, in the three days that followed: Philadelphia itself, Brandywine, Antietam, Harpers Ferry and Lexington, VA. Going to Harrisonburg, perhaps my favourite western Virginia town, took me back to Artful Cafe (once known as Artful Dodger), followed by a brief visit with a friend who once lived in Prescott.  People find it strange, but I don’t forget someone who treated me with a high level of kindness, even if they themselves have moved on.

It has long been past time to visit with the Indiana branch of our family, so a few hours, on point, in Jeffersonville, sent me heading west, with a sense of having completed my connection.  Falls of the Ohio and downtown Paducah were side-benefits of this diversion. Finally, I was honoured to visit with a cousin, in southwest Missouri, before scooting across the plains, to home  There were side benefits to that last leg:  Sedan, KS, with its little ravine, called The Hollow; a kind lady running a motel and cafe in Mooreland, OK; a race against the monsoon rains, in northeast New Mexico; brief return visits to Cimarron, Taos and Rio Grande Gorge; and proving that I still can handle the delicate balance between rest and roadsmanship, on the last leg of the drive home.

I chose a journey to the past, over an emotional visit to Las Vegas, in October.  It was tough going, coming back especially, but Besh Ba Gowah and Gila Cliff Dwellings made me recognize, anew, the importance of appreciating just what those who came before us gave to people, whom they had no idea were coming.

Journeys aren’t, per se, hard on me, so long as I maintain attention, pacing and focus.  New friends came out of these past twelve months, though I may have lost one of the older ones.  Friendships will take up my Christmas post, as seems appropriate.

 

 

 

 

Hearts, Black History and Chief Executives

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February 1, 2017, Prescott-

The Mini-Month is now upon us, with groundhogs galore waiting to be yanked out of the ground, tomorrow.  I know there will be many enlightening programs and articles about African-Americans, this month, but I think people should be fully honoured for their place in America’s story, and the stories of the world, EVERY month, and regardless of ethnicity.  Still, I’m glad the stories are getting out there.  Too many people still think Blacks, Native Americans, Latinos, Irish-Americans, and even women, collectively, are making up, or exaggerating, the past,  because “things aren’t so bad for ________________ NOW!” We  have to know our history, and know it well, for the very reason that too many people see things on the surface, and have short memories.

The Italian martyr, Valentino, has become a symbol of unconditional love and thus a day devoted to love- and romance- has taken the English form of his name.  St. Valentine’s Day falls on a work day, Tuesday, this year.  I will be giving the same unconditional love to my students that I offer, every day.

The following weekend will be Presidents’ Day, ostensibly to honour two of our greatest Chief Executives:  Washington and Lincoln, and, by extension, those of our presidents who have not harmed our nation.  Who they are, remains a matter of intense debate.  I have my opinion, but will not get into that, here.

Aram will leave for South Korea, in about a week.  I will be at San Diego International Airport, to see him off.  Then, each of us will get on with our respective duties, and other aspects of our lives.  For him, there will be some familiar aspects, as he was born, and spent his first three years of life, in Jeju, and shore duty will be more of a routine, than sea duty.  For me, the regimen will continue at school, the American Legion honours World War II’s Four Chaplains, my work for the Baha’i Faith goes on, and new outdoor adventures will present themselves- Scottsdale’s McDowell Mountains, the Verde Valley’s Limekiln Trail and, a slightly-delayed visit to Granite Mountain Hotshots Memorial State Park, in Yarnell.

It looks to be a fascinating 28 days.