Tag Archives: Villa-Oasis School

The Hana Chronicles: Month7, Day 5

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Travel

July 26,2026- When I got back from my Red Cross volunteer stint, this afternoon, the family was gone. A bit later, I received a photo of Aram enjoying a gelato cone, while Hana looked up at him, wistfully. The little girl is grateful for all the nutritious food we give her, but I think part of her wishes she could have have the treats we enjoy.

Her father is convinced that, as long as she can’t speak English or Korean fluently, she is not really thinking. I see too much of her, day to day, to ever make that mistake. She and I have a deeper communication, and she will not hesitate to tell me what she is feeling, even using English phrases, every so often.

At dinner, she had her first taste of pureed stewed tomatoes. She grimaced at the first few bites, then took the rest without any fuss. When she saw us laughing at her grimaces, she laughed also. I am glad that my granddaughter doesn’t have a congenital feeling of inferiority. I hope she will keep on being able to laugh at herself.

HANA’S NOTE- I like to try new foods. I just wish they included the stuff that’s in the cones that Mommy and Daddy were eating today. Maybe some day, I will get to try it.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-1978 The Maine years drew to a close, in September. It was 45 F ,(7 pm, EDT) at Bangor International Airport, when I boarded an American Airlines jet, bound for Phoenix. I landed at Sky Harbor at 11 pm, MST. It was 104 F.

To no one’s surprise, I was let go at the end of the school year, due to “budget constraints”. I was actually glad to be leaving. The Title I math tutoring job was alright, but I didn’t fit in well. I spent a month or so working in the summer program, called Maine Journeys-an interesting premise that took seventh graders around the state, even into New Brunswick-and Mactaquaq Park, near Fredericton. I just didn’t have the composure to tolerate admittedly minor misbehaviour. It was time to leave.

My sister, Cheryl, and her boyfriend, Steven, were married in late June, so I hitched my way down for the wedding. Going back was by Greyhound. After staying at a boarding house in Dexter, west of Bangor, and helping the owner paint her front porch, I landed a job at a Boarding School for the children of wealthy patrons, in Toltec, Arizona-halfway between Phoenix and Tucson. Before I left, Mrs. Knox told me that I’d enjoy my Thirties (I was 27 at the time) and that Arizona was full of breathtaking sights.

I arrived at Villa School (later called Villa-Oasis School), in the company of my immediate supervisor, Patrick Giovanditto, who got me situated into a spacious apartment, around midnight. The next day, I met the Headmaster and his wife, and the administrative team.The students showed up a week later. I was the senior high math teacher. The lessons went fairly well. I was additionally given the assignment of teaching Physics to one Senior, an otherwise pleasant young man from Australia, who had absolutely no interest in the subject. Before we really established any kind of footing, though, he got into a loud argument with one of the administrators and was expelled. The administrative process was rather strict, and several of the brighter, more outspoken students found themselves in similar states.

The Villa was, if nothing else, my gateway into Arizona. I explored much of the central part of the state, during the Fall and, at Christmas time, joined one of the administrators on a road trip as far as Michigan. We stayed at a 5-Star hotel, in the Chicago Loop,as it was managed by his brother. I stayed in a room whose last occupant had been Henry Fonda. I don’t think I’ve been in such swanky digs, before or since.After he dropped me off near Ann Arbor, I found a ride to Toledo, and from there caught a bus to Boston. New England for the holidays was again a special treat.

My climb out of the emotional hole I had dug was well underway.

The Road to 65, Mile 164: Base Camps

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

May 11, 2015, Prescott- I often get to thinking, especially this time of year, about the base camps I’ve known, in my all-too-peripatetic life.  Saugus really didn’t count, as most of my wandering in the early days was around town, or over to Lynn, a long walk, or short bus ride, away.  Fort Myer, VA- I took a bus, then walked from Georgetown or Capitol Hill, all over Washington, and into Prince George’s or Montgomery Counties.  Bangor, ME was the first real such launchpad, and I hitched rides all over Maine, as well as  into New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Quebec.

Then came Arizona, and not a weekend went by that I didn’t leave the Villa-Oasis School and head for any part of the state that could comfortably be visited in forty-eight hours.  Bear in mind that I was without a car, from 1978-1982.  So hitchhiking and bus rides were my ways of getting around.  It was something of a different time, though hitchhiking was a risk then, also.  I made my first visits to  Canada and several Western states, back in 1972, on a two-week dash from Montreal to Edmonton and Calgary, then back, through Montana, Salt Lake City and Denver, to Baltimore and Boston.  The West unfolded in greater detail, during my two summers with Toltec, then Flagstaff, as my bases. I made wide-eyed visits to Lake Tahoe and Portland, as well as southwest Colorado and southern California.

Penny and I were a bit more settled, especially while raising our son and later, in the years of her moving towards the Spirit Realm.  Still, we were off and running every summer, and some winters, either around the Navajo Nation and Hopiland, or to places like Israel, Guyana, Taiwan and South Korea (Aram’s birthplace, where we lived and worked for 5 1/2 grand years.)

Prescott has been the place where I have lived the longest, on my own.  It is an excellent base from which to head out and experience the combination of visits, service, and exploratory learning to which I have become accustomed.  Once in a while, like today, I wonder whether I might be wearing out my welcome here, but I know some people’s snippy dispositions and standoffish manners have more to do with them, than with anything I may have done or said.  I will hang on here, for at least two more years, coming and going, and coming back, to and from places like Reno, Portland, Seattle, Vancouver, Victoria and Juneau, this year; and other, more distant spots, in November, 2016.

Base camps are no less valuable to the wanderer than they are to the settled soul.  All the preparation and heavy lifting of life go on at one’s chosen abode.  Without home, there is no true journey.  Without the journey, there is no  true home.