Tag Archives: Xanga

The Hana Chronicles: Month 8, Day 15

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, service, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

September 5, 2026- Hana carefully observed two visitors today. One was a fast-talking salesman, trying to drum up business for his pest control company. She smiled wanly at him, but didn’t offer her customary “Hi”. The second, a plumber, was here to look at an area of our concern. She smiled a lot more at him, and said “Hi”. My grandchild already has a sense of people.

She again talked a lot, and was glad that I sat down with her, while Mom and Dad were fixing dinner. I told her that I was glad she was using her teething ring, and she showed me the toy. Her top lateral incisors (canines) are coming in, and so she is chewing on a lot of teething rings-and a few things that aren’t.

HANA’S NOTE- I like to be able to choose my own activities. Papa lets me do that, so it’s fun to have him in the playpen.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-2019 The day after the family wedding, last June, Aram asked Yunhee to marry him and she said “Yes”. They had a civil wedding in November of last year, on the island of Guam. On March 10, they had a Baha’i wedding, in Kwangju, South Korea. I was there, a few days early. The journey from Phoenix to Los Angeles was a lesson in patience (United left Phoenix two hours behind schedule), and I arrived at LAX, 90 minutes late, the result being that I was the last passenger to get on the plane for Seoul.

The wedding itself was small, by Korean standards, yet it was dignified and happy. The reception hall was full afterwards, and why not? The food was plentiful and tasty. Our family had now officially spanned the Pacific. I joined a family outing to Cheonju, a city with an interesting historic district and went with Aram and Yunhee’s father to a men’s spa. Gender-separate bath houses are very common in Korea. A day or two later, I flew back to the U.S. and my Korean family continued their Naval life.

I had cut ties with the unsettled woman, last October, after she threatened to see that I lost my job.. She nonetheless parked her RV at the park across the road from our little Quad. She never directly tried to pester me, but I knew I was being watched. That aside, I was starting to be affected by mold in my workspace; all of us-staff and students, were. It was affecting my judgment and my energy level. In late March, I threw my left knee out, taking a step down on stairs I had walked down dozens of times. It was a mild sprain, but after treatment and two weeks of P/T, I was okay again. In mid-April, though, a misunderstanding with another staff member led to my deciding to leave the Autism Program. The day that I resigned, the RV lady drove off and I have not seen her since.

In summer, I set out again on a cross-country journey- starting with a visit to an old friend in Coal Mine, AZ, then camping at Canyon de Chelly, before taking the customary northern route, through Albuquerque, Amarillo and Oklahoma, visiting with Xanga friends there. This time, though, I drove across Arkansas and Tennessee, visiting my friends in Crossville, then stopping in Chattanooga and Knoxville. I had Elantra serviced in Knoxville, then headed over to Asheville, NC, taking in that city’s elegant downtown. The road then took me to Tryon, NC, a town that I had briefly considered as a Home Base, sight unseen, in 2011. I might have been happy there, had Prescott not captivated me.

South Carolina brought satisfying visits to Columbia, Aiken, Hilton Head Island and Charleston. I took in Fort Sumter, another spot on Penny’s 2007 virtual field trip itinerary that we had not fulfilled. Back in North Carolina, I visited a Baha’i friend in Salisbury and stopped in Raleigh, to do laundry and spend time in the Capitol District. Another visit with dear Xanga friend in Virginia Beach, was followed by a drive across Chesapeake Bay to Cape Charles and Virginia’s Eastern Shore. It was fascinating top watch the ponies at Assateague, frolicking in the surf. Then came a stop in Dover, DE-the compact and delightful capital of the First State. My Oley stop followed, then up through PA to New York, and a visit to West Point-the last of the three Service Academies I’ve visited. My Dad had always wanted to go there, so I fulfilled his wish for him. Popeye Doyle (“The French Connection”) never went to Poughkeepsie-the foil in one of his throwaway lines in that movie. I spent a day or so in the town and in nearby Newburgh. Lovely area, along the Hudson River, though both cities were a tad rundown.

Going north, I decided to drive through Massachusetts’ southwest corner, stopping in the southern Berkshires, at Egremont. In Saugus, for Independence Day, saw fireworks and had quality time with Mom and my siblings. I made a return visit to Amherst, and my alma mater-University of Massachusetts, then toured Mt. Holyoke, a women’s university, south of town. Across Connecticut, I sopped in Danbury and spent time with that city’s Revolutionary War sites. The next main stops were Pittsburgh, for a Baha’i Holy Day gathering, Mishawaka, Chicago-for a night in Wrigleyville, near the Cubs Stadium, Wilmette, Wapello, IA, Kansas City and a small town named Satanta,KS. I paid respects to the fallen at Silver Creek, CO, a solemn cap to my sojourn.

Fall brought me back into substitute teaching, with a more connected sense of mission. I chose my assignments more discerningly, going forward.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 8, Day 13

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

September 3, 2026- Hana’s new idea was to see if she could climb out of the playpen. I assured her that there were no footholds high enough for such s feat, and that if there were, one of us would not permit our little daredevil to get herself hurt. When I asked her if she wanted to walk a bit, her response was “Umm, no.”, and she was content for a bit to just stand at the window sill and look out on the front yard. She changed her mind after a few minutes and I helped her walk to her Mom’s office, where she called out to a delighted Yunhee.

She has been telling us little stories, all day. Most of them seem to be about her Little Critter books. She pointed to three of them sitting on the table near our recliner, and listened contentedly, as I read each of them to her. When she went back into the playpen, her “5-Minute Little Critter Stories” anthology had to go in there with her, and she sat with it for several minutes. just touching the cover and looking at a few pages inside.

HANA’S NOTE- I wish I could climb up something. I want to be able to do something that’s a little bit hard.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-2017 Three years ago, I told people at Mont St. Michel that i hoped to return to that area, this year. That did not happen. I invested a small amount of money in a community development effort in Africa, having remembered how young men from Togo and Benin were having to go to France, in order to look for meaningful work. The organizers of that project, though, were full of excuses and kept moving the goal posts for its completion. They did not accept any of my ideas and asked for more and more funds. I cut them off, after two months of back and forth. It was smelling very much like a scam.

I was doing okay, though, working with Special Needs students, full time. I finished with the ED class in May and transferred into working with Autistic students at Prescott High School, in the Fall. I felt very much drawn to them, being on the spectrum myself.

Adventure across the Southwest, and across the continent, continued. I enjoyed hiking in Spur Cross Ranch, Cave Creek; Boyce Thompson Arboretum State Park, in Superior, an interesting town,where I befriended a nice group of people who were operating Sun Flour Cafe and Boutique; and Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument, near Silver City, NM. Summer travels took me to Massachusetts and to southern Maine, where I helped celebrate one of my paternal aunt’s 84th birthday. I enjoyed walking along the shoreline, in York, ME; visiting Green Acre Baha’i school, in Eliot and as always, spending time with Mom.

The cross country adventures included hikes in Brandywine, PA, Antietam, MD, Harpers Ferry and Charles Town, WV, the Falls of the Ohio, near Louisville and “The Hollow”, in Sedan, KS. A very moving and meaningful visit to the Museum of the American Revolution, in Philadelphia, with my brother, Dave was followed by a tour of the Museum for Art in Wood, one of the most unique features in the City of Brotherly Love. Xanga friends were welcoming in Oley, Mishawaka, Goshen(IN), Enid and Amarillo. I even took the time, after Antietam, to visit the home of Stonewall Jackson, in Lexington, VA-learning that one of the most infamous of Confederate officers had taken the trouble to surreptitiously teach his enslaved house servants to read the Bible. (That was against Virginia law at the time.)

I was gradually again becoming someone I actually liked. The year ahead would put that to the test.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 8, Day 11

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

September 1, 2026- Hana made an assisted walk from the recliner in the living room to the sofa in the family room-a distance of about 75 feet. We took three short breaks, of less than a minute, along the way. She decided when the breaks would happen and when the walk would resume. As she gets taller, it is easier on my back.

My granddaughter is also answering “Yeh”, when asked if she feels good about something. “No” will come soon enough, I suppose. She continues to be very chatty, especially with her mother. The other side is that she is starting to understand when Yunhee has to tend to other things, and Hana is getting better at playing by herself.

We noticed, this evening, that she is outgrowing her little bath tub. It will soon be time to use a larger vessel, that will have to be fit inside the master bath tub, rather than inside the kitchen sink. This growth spurt is amazing-and it won’t be the last.

HANA’S NOTE- I am starting to really understand Papa’s and Daddy’s language. They call it English. I can make sense of Mama’s language, just a little. She calls it Hangu’l-mar. Papa calls it Korean. Mostly, I just know how Mama feels, by how she talks.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-2015 I have remained committed to visiting the places that Penny and I had listed, but had never gotten around to seeing. Some of that was done this year. I also drove across the South, to Florida, with the aim of helping to celebrate my mother-in-law’s birthday. After visiting a Xanga friend, in Lynn Haven, near Panama City, I headed towards The Villages, where the family lived. Outside Ocala, I got a call that said, essentially, the visit was off. Dementia does hard things to its victim and to the family. I headed back to Tallahassee and spent a day or so, taking in the capital, then went up to Sylacauga, AL and spent a few hours with another Xanga friend. (Xanga, for the uninitiated, was a blogsite, to which I belonged between 2008-11. I have visited several friends-particularly in Orange County, CA; Oklahoma,, Amarillo, Portland, Washington State, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana and Oley, PA.)

My drive back gave me time to check out the five missions of the Alamo, and to take in the Trans-Pecos region, between Uvalde and El Paso. Marfa was a town that I found most interesting.

Back in Prescott, I had drawn the attention of a homeless man, who had not experienced such a kind life. I took him places that he needed to go and let him shower in the apartment, every so many days. He himself ran afoul of some rather rough people in town, and when they spotted him in my KIA Optima, there was retribution. On the Saturday before Easter, as I was driving back from a hike in the Payson area, my brakes snapped and I ended up in a ditch. The Optima was toast, and while I was assessed a Defensive Driving class, the attendant at the police impound yard noted that the brake lines had been cut. I left the matter to the police to investigate. I was physically okay, got adjusted by my chiropractor and went about getting another vehicle.

The Nissan Altima had significant issues with its transmission, after about three weeks. I got what seemed to be a fix, then bid my homeless friend adieu and headed north for few weeks. I got as far as Hawthorne, NV, had a hard time with the vehicle, and had visions of being in the town of one auto repair shop through Memorial Day weekend, until God knew when. I got one of those spirit messages that come every so often: “We’re going to get you to Reno.” The car started, and by the grace of God, through my late, beloved wife, her father, and most likely my own dear dad, I got to a Casino parking lot, in Sparks, and had the Altima towed the rest of the way to Reno. A good transmission shop had the car back in tip top shape, after a week. I had a nice visit with my friends in Reno and Carson City, in the meantime.

Then came Alaska. I drove through northern California, Oregon and Washington, leaving the Altima in a secure lot in Bellingham. The ferry took me to Wrangell, Juneau, Sitka and Ketchikan. I found magic in each of those places, and would gladly return, though so far it hasn’t been to be in the cards. On the way back, I went up to Vancouver for a day or so, then drove over to Anacortes, WA and hopped on another ferry, this one going to Sidney, BC, and from there to Victoria. It was National Aboriginal Day there, so I joined the festivities and took a tour led by a member of the Songhees First Nation. A huge amount of Aboriginal history was imparted that afternoon.

I observed Father’s Day in Monroe, WA, enjoying a fine Italian meal, and stayed in a nice little cabin by the river. The days ahead took me through eastern Washington, western Idaho, and back through Oregon’s “Outback”, another stop in Reno and back, safely, to Prescott.

The rest of the year was fairly peaceful. I covered a third grade class, in a charter school, for a few months and successfully taught the kids to sing “Winter Wonderland”, in choral style. Some of those children remained close to me, even until their graduation from high school, nine years later.

Owning Up

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 18, 2024, Bellingham, WA- I went in the out door, so to speak, this morning. Parking with Sportage’s nose to the curb, in a “back-in” zone, I took two photographs of nearby buildings, got back in the car and carefully backed out, watching for any vehicles that might have come along-and which would have had the right of way. There were none, so on I went to Tacoma’s Old Town. I rarely, if ever, do such things, but have learned to not hide from judgment or ridicule, when they do happen.

Ownership of missteps is often absent, or only grudgingly done, in modern life. We fear judgment and ridicule, but you know they are going to come along, anyway. So, why fear, run or hide? I apologized to someone I love dearly, this evening, because it was the only thing to do, under the circumstances. Erich Segal was off-base, when he wrote “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” It is the first thing that someone who has heart must say, when a loved one is hurt. Apologizing to my late wife, to our son, to a beloved student or client, to a dear friend, has been de rigeur, when I go on a wrongful tangent.

Today, otherwise, was a fine day, partly spent in and around Tacoma’s Old Town and waterfront area, meeting with an old friend from Xanga, and her husband and patiently navigating the heavy traffic, from Federal Way to Mount Vernon. Seattle rivals any other major city, in the thickness and slowness of its major thoroughfares’ traffic. It is best to make do. Owning up also means pushing forward, without moaning about short-term circumstances.

Here are some scenes from Tacoma, an underrated gem of the Pacific Northwest.

Northern Pacific Office Building, City Center, Tacoma
Clock Tower, Old Tacoma City Hall
Job Carr’s Cabin, Old Town Tacoma

Job Carr was the first settler to make Tacoma his home, building this cabin in 1865. He got along quite well with the indigenous Puyallup community, and was well-known for navigating Commencement Bay, where he encountered whales and dolphins, whilst going back and forth to Puyallup, in his canoe.

Job came to the area because he thought the Burlington Northern Railroad would have its western terminus at the spot where he settled. When the BNR stopped two miles east of his cabin, he was rattled, but made do.

Burlington Northern railbed, near Commencement Bay
Commencement Bay, at Tacoma (above and below)

The afternoon found me back at another gem: The Muse, at the edge of Everett’s waterfront. I visited this lovely Victorian coffee house/bar, a year or so ago. This time, I was honoured to be joined by these fine folks:

Debra (“Ampbrea”) and Jeb Watts

I will not forget those friends from the 2000s and 2010s who stuck with me, even during the times when I “flaked out”.

Actual Vacation, Day 3

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Entertainment, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

November 22, 2023, Grapevine- There are all kinds of journeys to be had, in this life and beyond.

While exercising, back at Home Base, last week, I watched a segment of an “adventures in car repair” show, on the Motor Trend Channel which, as you might imagine, has several such programs. The journey that one crew undertook, never brought them much outside their shop, their supply places or their test drive circuit, but it was certainly a fascinating peregrination.

The vehicle on which they were working had one functioning part: The drive train (actually, only the flywheel). Everything else, from the transmission to the windshield wipers, was messed up, beyond imagining. Somehow, they began work on turning the heap of metal into something resembling a useful piece of equipment. It took them seventeen months-and $48,000 of the owner’s money-but it came off the rack as good as anything out of River Rouge or Smyrna.

Almost as exhausting, to my imagination, was Julie Powell’s cooking of every recipe in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”. Not falling victim to a miasma of conceit took a lot of energy, though criticism from Ms. Child certainly must have helped, in that respect.

There are other such journeys of mind and heart. I have gone on a few: Reading every book in the Harry Potter series, followed by reading every existing volume of George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire”-preceded, long ago, by absorbing each volume of John Jakes’ “The Kent Family Chronicles”. I see where Mr. Jakes passed on, earlier this year. His work was what rekindled a love of the printed page, that had been dampened, over the years, by one thing or another.

Writing is, of course, another path I can take. In my Xanga days, some whimsical stories came out of this imagination. I lost track of them, when Xanga folded and no longer have access to that medium’s successor sites, which own the rights to everything anyone ever wrote on Xanga. Still, there may be some fiction forthcoming on this Word Press, if for no other reason than to keep the travel blogs from getting tiresome to my readership. Then, there are growing different vegetables and fruit, learning to repair different items, increasing fluency in different languages and so forth-all good for brain and body.

There came a sad notice that one of my former students, who has struggled with health issues, since a terrible auto accident, some years back, is entering the final phase of this life. I certainly pray for his comfort, and if possible, recovery, but passing on is, as ‘Abdu’l-Baha once described it, “yet another journey, for which one should carefully prepare.” May the best thing happen, in his case, as in that of anyone who is close to transition.

We soldier on.

A Pastel Day

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

December 14, 2022, San Clemente- I walked along Dana Point Harbor’s southern flank, whilst waiting for my friend, Janet, to arrive for our customary lunch, a signature part of any southern California visit, since 2011. Much was the same, along the boardwalk, with an addition that honours Dana Point’s recent history. Here is a tall ship that is moored among the charter boats and private yachts, at the southern edge of the harbour.

The Curlew, originally moored in Dana Point Harbor, in the 1920s.

Janet has been a corresponding friend, since my Xanga days (2008-11). Our lunches have been followed by short walks along one or another of Orange County’s beaches or botanical gardens. More recently, we have met for extended conversations at Harpoon Henry’s, with its west-facing view of the harbour. Dana Point Harbor will be undergoing a facelift, of sorts, over the next few years. Hopefully, Henry’s will be spared.

Today was a far quieter day, weather-wise, as an extended period of sunshine seems to be taking root, in the Southwest, which includes “SoCal”. It assumed a rather pastel hue, in the sky and along the beach front. After conversing with Janet for about an hour, I came back to House of Trestles, rested a bit, then visited Trestles Beach, a favourite of some surfers. I found the ocean rather calm, with a lone surfer having packed up and carrying his board and gear off the beach. Trestles is rather flat and somewhat removed from the cliffs, thus giving it a pastel feel, as well.

Trestles does share information about the sport, which I had not encountered on any other beach.
Trestles Beach, named for the adjacent railroad trestles that lie just to the east.

It was a fine, somewhat quieter day, following the roiling cloudy and stormy period earlier in the week. I found little to clean up, at Trestles Beach. It seems the surfers do a good job policing their own.

The Tenth Anniversary Torrent

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving

August 11, 2021- The nimble little girl danced in the rain, barefoot, to the music inside her head, carefully prancing and pirouetting, along a fairly narrow wall between her alley and the parking lot of a nearby restaurant. S captured my heart several years ago, as a shy, grinning toddler, who proudly showed me how well she could ride her tricycle. She and her family are essential to our neighbourhood, alternately taking a leading role in keeping a sense of balance between an “Over 55” mentality and a street overrun with kids, and being, for a short period, the only child-centered family on the block. I don’t mind the street full of kids part at all, as that was the way it was in my childhood-we children were everywhere. I watched S dance, from my living room window, lest she had slipped and fallen-in which case, I’d have been across the street like a shot. Every child who lives in this block has my heart. As it is, they also have my admiration, especially when living out their dreams.

The afternoon had brought a torrent of rain, on top of yesterday’s deluge. As I watched the sheets of precipitation pour down, I was reminded that it was ten years ago, today, that I wrote my first post on Word Press, after my previous blogsite, Xanga, became monetized. There are people I miss from Xanga, that I have not heard from since 2011. There are also those who turned on me, some for good reason, and others in fits of pique. For the most part, I am still in contact, either here or via other social media, with the Xanga friends who have stuck by me.

Many other changes have enveloped me, in this past ten years. Rage stemming form personal affronts now seems cheap and a waste of energy. I no longer harbour thoughts of long-distance thru-hikes of the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trails, at least for the time being. There is simply too much to be done, with other people around, both here in Home Base and further afield. I am more contemplative, before speaking or acting. A Basal cell has been removed and my immune system has been largely built up.

is There are other ways in which life is the same. My best friends, locally, are for the most part almost a decade or more, younger than me. My contemporaries don’t understand me any better than they ever did. That’s fine; being someone who is humoured and sent on his way has been my lot, among my age-mates, for a very long time. The “kids”, from Gen X to the Alpha Generation, have come to know me better, as I worked with them day-to-day. I can talk with many of them for a long time, without their passing judgement or getting their socks in a knot over some real or imagined slight. There are exceptions, among the Baby Boomers-like my hiking buddy, but it is with those my junior that I am most in my element.

Ten year into Word Press, self-assuredness and recognition that I am a person of worth have grown-and all the journeys of mind and body have only gotten richer.

The 2018 Road, Day 29: The Cleansing Storm and Saturday’s Markets

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Posted by on in Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

June 23, 2018, Tifton, GA-

After a short pass by Clemson University, which I found closed for the evening, I headed off to look for a campsite along  Richard B. Russell Lake.  Named for a conservative senator from Georgia, who was noteworthy as both a pragmatist and a parliamentarian, despite having misgivings about integrating whites and blacks at the Federal level, the lake, formed by damming the Savannah River, draws people of all ethnicities.

I chose the first campground on the South Carolina side of the river:  Calhoun Falls State Park.  The town was named for another senator, John C. Calhoun, who strode the floor of his chamber, orating in defense of slavery, whilst privately educating his own slaves back home.  Even the most seemingly venal of people can be complicated.

The Southland has always graced my camping efforts with a torrential rain, and last night was no exception.  Despite the cleansing downpour, with copious thunder and lightning, my tent and rain flap stayed put.  It also helped that the tent site is on porous ground.

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Here are some views of  the lake, looking towards the Georgia shore. Note that the soil along the shore is red.

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I made a stop at the camp store, for a bit of breakfast, before heading out.  Two sweet teen girls were minding the store and made sure I had fresh coffee and a scone, on this soggy morning.

Outside, the dock and its attendant were getting ready for a more promising day of sunshine.

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I took county roads to the town of Calhoun Falls, then to McCormick, before going on to Edgefield, the hometown of another of South Carolina’s more provocative figures:  J. Strom Thurmond.  Before Donald Trump, before George Wallace, Strom Thurmond stood for keeping things as they were, in bygone days- before coming to his senses in later years, and actually being mortified by those who cited him as an example of a man who could “keep the races apart”.

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I found numerous mementos of the Civil War, as was to be expected, and solid antebellum architecture.  Then, there was the turkey.  Edgefield’s more eclectic claim to fame is as the headquarters of the American Wild Turkey Association.  One of the men with whom I spoke had been to Prescott, and had hunted wild turkeys in our National Forest.

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I took in Edgefield’s tiny, but welcoming Farmers’ Market, purchasing a couple of gifts for my family in Florida.  Then I poked around a bit in Edgefield’s town square.

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Below, is the town’s memorial to its Confederate  war dead.  Being on the opposite side of the slavery issue, I nonetheless recognize that people of earlier times had to go through their growing pains.  Then, too, so do many of this day and age.

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Other memorials honour those fallen in subsequent conflicts.  This memorial stone commemorates World War II.

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I stopped in Park Row Cafe, for a muffaletta, which held its own with the more famous New Orleans versions of the sandwich.  I was greeted warmly by the young lady who I had met on the street, earlier.  The cafe’s manager, though, was a bit more guarded, wondering aloud about “the western Yankee”. She was quite glad to see me go.  Too bad, as the place has wonderful fare.

Down the road, and a bit north of the river, is Aiken.  It is home to another Xanga friend, who was not at home when I visited downtown.  I can see the attraction, though.  Aiken had a larger Farmers’ Market than Edgefield, and was considerably more vibrant.  I spent most of my time here in New Moon Cafe, a fortuitous discovery, as I was missing Artful Dodger.  I sat, nursing a Haitian pour-over, absorbing the positive energy.  I found this magnetic little cafe a great excuse for returning to Aiken in the future, even if Xanga friend is not around.  Here is a small hotel that might be of interest to those not inclined to camp.

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New Moon is all about power!

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I took this photo from a discrete distance as, underneath the signage, another patron was relaxing with coffee and the paper.

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Leaving salubrious Aiken, I wanted to make fairly good time getting to north Florida, before turning in. So Augusta, Lake Oconee, Macon and Andersonville all wait for another time.  I made a mental note, as to the exquisite beauty of Oconee and its Reynolds properties.  There is much also that Georgia has to tell, regarding the struggles of men with one another.  Americus showed the way towards amity, whilst Andersonville chronicles the flip side of Maryland’s Point Lookout, being the site of a POW camp for Union soldiers, just as the latter was for Confederate POW.

So, I stopped here, in Dublin, just off I-75, enjoying chicken salad at a Zaxby’s.  I still am determined to make it at least to Ocala, tonight.

The 2018 Road, Day 28: Falls Park Afternoon

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Posted by on in Community, Hiking and Nature, Social, Travel

June 22, 2018, Greenville, SC-

I spent several days here, in and around this small, but bustling, commercial hub of western South Carolina, in late February and early March, 1987.  One of my brothers and his family lived near here then.  I can recall the Museum of Christian Art, at Bob Jones University, and Falls Park on the Reedy, as highlights of that visit.

My journey today, led me back to Falls Park, to meet an old friend from Xanga days. K is a military veteran, whose son is currently serving as well.  She lives in a city not far from Greenville, and so agreed to meet for lunch and a walk around the park.  It took several minutes for us to find one another, with confusion on my part, as to what she meant by the “park entrance”.  There are actually three, so I went to the one closest to the West End Historic District, where she found me.  We enjoyed a fine lunch at Smoke On The Water, overlooking the Reedy River, and swapped Xanga tales.  Then, it was time to revisit the park, in earnest.

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There are multiple places for people to cool off, in the running water.  This fountain, on the grounds of River Place, drew several families, as the day was heating up.

This footbridge leads into Falls Park, from the north.

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Here is a view of West End, which has been revitalized since I was here last.

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We enjoyed this, and other, views of the Falls, from Liberty Bridge.

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With many people taking one another’s photos, including us, K and I were glad to be in this one selfie.

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That led to another shot of the Falls.

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The flowers at Falls Park were not at their peak, but diligent care has kept the gardens well-balanced and adorning the grounds.

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The lower park, closer to the water, is always among my favourite parts of a river walk.

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Nature offers some strange scenes, of suffering and resilience.  Looking at the trunk of this tree, from this vantage point, I can almost discern a face.

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We continued to head back to the park entrance, as K had to avoid afternoon traffic.  Above the falls, the river offers as much beauty, as below.

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These cataracts, close to Liberty Bridge, help control the flow of water, in times of flooding.

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Ten Artispheres, by John Acorn, commemorated the tenth anniversary of Greenville’s Artishphere Festival, in 2014.

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After K left, I spent some time along the river, close to the place where I had parked.  Ducks and geese were more plentiful, in the serenity of upriver.

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This view of downtown shows the variety of architectural styles is present, even in a smaller city.

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Near an overpass, I spotted the testimony of the timeless.

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These geese were also glad to find the shade of the bridge’s underpinnings.

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The Peace Center Amphitheater and Wyche Pavilion was empty, this afternoon, but is sometimes used for weddings and other special events.

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Greenville has polished itself a fair amount, in thirty one years, and like many former textile centers, has used the rivers which once generated their mills to generate a thriving economy, based on tourism and other outdoor-based enterprises.

NEXT:  Camping in the Rain and Two Saturday Markets

 

And So On

13
Posted by on in distraction issues, Family, impediments, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 1, 2018, Prescott- 

Happy Easter, and Passover, one and all.  I have spent much of today, fighting with my WP feed, trying to go back to those posts I missed, last flipping weekend and onward.  I have hit upon keeping one window open for my Reader- and one for this side of my site.

This laptop will need to go in for repair soon. To do that, I will finally re-open my account with Geek Squad, the Best Buy Technical Support arm.  This will do one of two things:  Either my 7-year-old laptop will continue to support my photo posts, or it will need to be replaced.  Either way, it’ll be a week before I post any photos on these pieces, as Windows File Explorer is constantly in buffering mode, which tells me my old friend is very sick.

I haven’t done much today, but then again, yesterday found me in Phoenix, walking with three other people around a neighbourhood called Sunnyslope, which is an important place in the annals of Penny’s and my last ten years together.  I am glad to have helped install 13 smoke detectors, in 7 of the 25 houses we visited.  6 went in one house, alone. The most important were those placed in the bedrooms of youths.

Visiting a friend in Superior, and finding her working alone, on a Saturday afternoon, was bothersome.  I stayed long enough to enjoy a nice lunch and to help her just a bit, with tidying up and offering moral support.  This person is going through something similar to what I endured, with a spouse suffering debilitation.  I hope her co-workers will get a grip and start pitching in more.

Today, though, I am thinking of someone,  very far away, whom I have never met face to face.  Something about her, though, has drawn me in.  Like anything else of this nature, we’ll see.

I watched a short video about the Sumerians.  It challenges conventional wisdom about our origins as a species.  I have one question, though:  If there are some beings that are responsible for our intelligence, and they “civilized” us, then left, why aren’t they back?  Perhaps, they know better.  I think I will stick with my God, and the God of us all.

My Memorial Day to Independence Day travel schedule is mapped out- Nevada, Colorado, eastward through Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ontario, Montreal, New England, Pennsylvania, down the Delmarva, Hampton Roads, across Virginia, the Carolinas and Tennessee, before an I-40 zip, back to Home Base and Prescott’s fireworks.  Most of this route is to see friends and family-some of whom I have not seen in a very long time.  Good Sam Parks and hostels will be well-researched and penciled in, beforehand.  There will be a birthday party or two, a family wedding and a Xanga/Facebook gathering.  If this sounds like a lot, it’s because it is.

In the meantime, we have a month of standardized testing at our high school, which means unusual schedules.  Then, there is Graduation Month.  In both April and May, I will also be occupied with Baha’i activities, to boot.  I would not miss any of this, or rush through it, for all the world.