August 18, 2015,Prescott- Each year, on this date, my mind goes back to an area called Burntwater, about an hour’s travel west of Gallup, NM.  Here is the Native American Baha’i Institute, where many gather to discuss the growing ties between our Faith and traditional Navajo teachings.

On August 18, 1984, I set out with a Baha’i friend and neighbour, Gordon Tong, three of his children and several Navajo elders.  We were headed to the Institute, to attend a meeting that was designed to address concerns of the traditional Navajos, as to how some visitors from the cities to the south could be more aware of customs and etiquette, when among the Dine people.

As is customary in that area, in August, it was raining heavily and the roads were thick with mud.  We got stuck in some of that mud.  Gordon got his shovel and a couple of young men got boards, to put under the tires. My task was to man the wheel and follow Gordon’s instructions on which way to steer and when to give it gas.  At some point, as we were making slow progress, one of his sons decided to “go for more help”.  I left the truck, for one of the young men to drive, and headed after the boy.  Five minutes into my pursuit, a truck came in the opposite direction, with the boy inside, and the driver explaining that he had received a radio report that Gordon had collapsed and died.  I got in, rode back to the Institute, then to the sheriff’s substation, where Gordon’s body was brought, twenty minutes later.

The meeting became a time of mourning, and two days later, Gordon was laid to rest, under a torrential rain. People came from as far afield as Seattle and the Pine Ridge Lakota Nation. Gordon was Native Hawaiian and Chinese, so his family came from Hilo, to honour their brother and son.  He was 38 years of age, at the time of his passing, and his still young family left to carry on.  They have done so, by and large.  There is no overcoming a deeply-entrenched spirit.

As I write this, the scent of rose oil wafts through the air.  I have no such oil, but I know how much Gordon loved it.  He loved all such fragrances, having grown up with hibiscus, coconut  and all manner of tropical fruit trees, with their own blossoms.  After 31 years, he is telling me that all is well.

I can only marvel at the way the Creator has seen fit to let such as myself remain on Earth, for so many years after the passing of a very worthy man.  All I can think is that there is so much more to do.  Gordon, and all my departed loved ones, are in the next plane of existence, or perhaps higher, lending their support.  I cannot let them down.

August 17, 2015, Prescott- Yes, today was better than yesterday, and, as an online friend pointed out, it might be a good idea to stay in one place for more than a fortnight, if I want it to feel like home.  I got everything accomplished today that had to be kicked down the road, yesterday.

I want to make another A-Z post.  This time, it’s about places where I actually do feel at home, and safe.

A- Amarillo, because I know right where to head, to “sit a spell”; Anacortes, which is on the short list of places I’d consider, if I need to leave my present community; Albuquerque, where I’ve had some of the most enjoyable vacations, back in the day.

B- Bellingham, a most pleasant spot in which to wait for a ferry; Bisbee, the second-most relaxing place in Arizona; Boston, because it is truly a Hub of Learning and cultural explosion.

C- Carlsbad(CA), where I can always find a welcome, no matter how late it is at night; Claytor Lake, the Virginia spot where two rangers took me in, at 11 PM, on a Sunday night, when I was beside myself with emotional pain; Chicago, because it is majestic and amazing, and I feel safe, actually, no matter what part of town I’m in.

D- Denver, always a place for a good time and connecting with the salt of the Earth; Durango (CO), and may the blessed Animas be healed;

E- Enid, as fine a place to rest and connect with a friend, as I’ve ever known; El Paso, I can sit around here, too, and jabberjaw for quite a while.

F- Fort Worth, one of the friendliest big cities I’ve visited; Flagstaff, because it’s just my second home.

G- Glendale (AZ), four months a year, one of the most relaxing and walkable downtowns in AZ; Glenwood Springs, a comforting steam bath always awaits.

H- Honolulu, misty and ever magical; Hagerstown, a must-stop respite, from the pell-mell rush of BosWash; Hermosillo, the first place I ever visited in Mexico.

I- Inglewood, the resting place of the first Baha’i in the U.S., where I was greeted by a red-tailed hawk.

J- Jasper, one of the loveliest spots in Canada; Juneau, because of the hostel, and Mendenhall; Jeju, my first real Asian home.

K- Ketchikan, frenetic, by Alaskan standards, but still filled with good-hearted people; Keams Canyon, because I got to know Penny there.

L- Lille, working-class and down-home France; Lynn, because so many family members are still there, and it’s the Beach; Luxembourg, the most welcoming party place, ever.

M- Moscow (ID), because people begged me to hang out there a while longer; Manitou Springs, for the same reason; Memphis, because, St. Jude’s, and Beale.

N- New Orleans, nothing more need be said;  Nashville, homey and loving.

O- Oceanside, the Rock Walk rocks; Oklahoma City, the only place where I was invited to a County Employees’ Picnic; Ocean Springs, just a calm and homey place to meet a friend.

P- Prescott, more of a home than I sometimes acknowledge; Phoenix, because so much of me is still there; Philadelphia, because of Germantown, the river, and my extended family; Portland, because it’s ever in bloom.

Q- Quincy (IL), the trees, the river, and the Ali family.

R- Reno, because my soul family is there; Rouen, my roots run deep.

S- San Diego, my California home; Saugus (MA), the core of my family; Strasbourg, my Alsatian brothers and sisters; Sedona, the most relaxing place in Arizona; Sitka, because it is a place truly apart.

T- Tallahassee- a surprise around every corner; ; Tucson, because my friends are always glad for my presence; Tuba City, where I first connected with Native Americans, on a deep level, and where we first had a married home.

U- Utah Beach, always a place of honour and reverence.

V- Versailles, both excessive resplendence and down-to-Earth goodness; Vicksburg, a reminder of how things can go wrong, and be made right again, over time; Victoria, an honest and well-balanced little city.

W- Washington, despite all the bluster and phoniness, underneath it’s an exquisite city; Wenatchee- the consummate survivor town; Wrangell, because it felt like home, before I left the boat.

X- Xenia, an Ohio town with enormous heart.

Y- Yellowstone, no more magical place exists, anywhere.

Z- Zion, a different side of Illinois.

Of course, I could list more such places, like Bruges and Bastogne, but you get the point, if you’ve read this far.

August 16, 2915, Prescott-  It is coming down to a very telling choice.  Perhaps as early as November, maybe not until January, 2017, or at some point in between the two, my intuition is telling me it’s time to move on.

I say November, because by then, my pledges to the Yavapai County Angels and Hope Fest will have been honoured, the snows will be gathering in Massachusetts, and I don’t want to leave my mother alone, in that house where we grew up, while the rest of my family is facing stresses of their own.

I say it’s time to move on, because all my friends in this town of Prescott are doing just fine, and will continue to be fine whether I’m here or not.  Truth is, I am spending more, in a modestly expensive apartment, with minimal day-to-day work, then I have in any given month on the road, these past few years. I am not a salesman, yet I have looked to help people with a product in which I believe, but without seed money, one cannot do much in establishing an essential oils trade, and I am NOT going to go the “Fund Me” route.  I have been offered a minimum wage position as an apartment complex manager, but would still have to pay my own full rent- so that’s out.

I have had some places come into my head, in quiet moments.  I could settle in a more economical living space, live in a place where  I could pretty much walk to a school, where I could substitute teach, and a few such places have entered my consciousness.  I could also go somewhere where people live in community, not in semi-anonymity.  Places where my presence would be discomfiting to people I know online or in real time, and there are a few such people, would not be on my list of options.

These are all rather petty-sounding, I know, and many have it far worse than me.  The issue for me, though, is more existential.  It’s more a matter of no place having really felt like home, since Penny passed.  It’s more a matter of people having their own priorities and life patterns, in which someone like me does not belong.  I know, that will be the same, no matter where I go, and that will be something I have to face.  My welcome here, though, is wearing thin, and so it’s time to trust the journey and start planning ahead.

UPDATE:  I will be removing a couple of photos from a post I did on Santa Monica, a few weeks ago, and hopefully the post will be less discomfiting to those concerned.

August 15, 2015, Prescott- The Chaplain giving a benediction, at today’s “Spirit of 45” remembrance of World War II veterans, referenced political correctness as a threat to freedom, while noting how the GI Generation accomplished their goals without a systematic enforcement of unwritten social code.

That got me thinking about “P.C.”  I was raised to look at people, strictly as individuals.  Pejoratives were not allowed in our house, pure and simple.  My parents were people of their time, and it took Mom years to accept the idea of “mixed marriages”.  Yet, every person with whom we came in contact was to be respected.

Being unusual, in my own right, made it actually easier to accept and embrace differences. I have since had the bounty of having a wide variety of friends, from all backgrounds.  Political correctness has had little or nothing to do with this.

I see how P.C.has had some great benefits, as it brought people out of their “business as usual” comfort zones.  The Civil Rights movements, which have brought codified assurance of equality under the law, to women,  people of colour and to the LGBT community, were a vital necessity in a society that was too immersed in a comfort level that thrived on separation.

I need to say this, though:  The only thing that really will result in a truly inclusive society, which will not discriminate against ANY of its members, is a change of the human heart.  We are reaching a saturation point, in terms of the amount of criticism being directed at those whose opinions or lifestyles might not mesh with those of the critics.  The over-dependence on political correctness, as a guide to personal and community choices, will likely result in a confused generation, alienated from its legacy- as no historical figure could possibly clear the bar that overuse of political correctness is foisting upon our education system.  Yes, it is good, and necessary, to know that several of the Founding Fathers owned slaves, hated Native Americans and were condescending towards women.  It is good, and necessary, to know the truth about Abraham Lincoln’s view of people of colour, or Franklin D. Roosevelt’s anti-Semitism.   That should not blind us to the good that those men did. It should only remind us that no one is perfect, save the Founders of the Great Faiths.  It should show us where we were, as a people, at various points in time, and that we are making progress, steadily.  WITHOUT EXCUSING the wrongheadedness of our forebears, let us remind ourselves that the march of history is forward, upward, towards enlightenment.

Consigning all historical figures to the dust bin is a mistake, for then we will, at some point, revert to the same practices we claim to abhor, albeit in a different form.  Banning those of different, sometimes archaic, OPINIONS from speaking, will only lead to clandestine and terror-oriented groups, such as IS, the Rakhine Buddhists, the Ku Klux Klan and Opus Dei,  to openly hostile congregations like Westboro Baptist Church, or, worst of all, to criminal cartels, which profit from the dregs of human suffering.

Only attention to one’s heart and soul can bring about the peace and inclusiveness that we all seek.  How this is done, should be solely up to the individual, so long as it does not bring harm to another.  Violence, intimidation, or codified pressure from without cannot work to our advantage, in the long run.

The only correctness that can bring lasting peace, is personal correctness.  It is a huge responsibility, and it is given to each and every one of us.  No government, or social medium, can tend to it in our stead.

August 14, 2015, Prescott- Today is slower than slow, and that’s okay, as it gives me a chance to focus on people in my life, for whom I’m grateful.  In another post, I will focus on places that give me the same feeling.  This post was inspired by a similar one, done a few weeks ago by one of the people mentioned here:  My next-eldest brother.  It, in turn, was originated by one Alex Lucado,in an inspirational book he wrote, entitled “Before Amen”.  Suffice it to say, we can never feel, or express, enough gratitude for what those close to us have done, said, or been, in our lives.

This is an A to Z format:

A– Aram, my son, whose very existence has defined the greater part of my adulthood, and whose achievements make me proud, every single day.  “Art Wolfen”, my fellow writer and free spirit, whose stories put me in touch with so many other dimensions. Al Sinquah, who taught me so much of Native American culture and etiquette.  ‘Abdu’l-Baha, for being the Perfect Exemplar of all to which one ought strive.

B- My late brother, Brian, who first taught me compassion.  Bob Duncomb, one of my many consciences and a Keeper of the Flame, always walking his talk. Barbara Boivin, my sister-in-law, for being the rock of the family.  Most of all, Baha’u’llah, my Lord and Guide to all that is good.

C– Cheryl, my sister and first friend, for being there, and for never giving up on anything that matters.  Chris Boivin, my eldest nephew, who cemented my love of children, before I had a child of my own.  Curtis Salt, my youngest nephew, one of the most creative people I’ve ever known.  Then, there are about five Christ(i)ys- Every one a friend and inspiration.

D- I know many Davids, but  my brother rises above the rest .  Few have taken it upon themselves to tell me what I needed to hear, when I least wanted to listen, and time has borne him out.  No one I know has worked harder.  His rock, Deb, has been at his right-hand side through all of it.

E– Emily Atticus, another of my steadfast friends and consciences, who will also tell me what I need to hear, and pull my fingers away from my ears.  My late uncle, John “Ellie” Reilly, always good with a story, and moral support.

F– My father, Fred, who never gave up on me, though he had a devil of a time understanding what made me tick.  He’s still guiding me from the other side of the curtain.

G– Glenn, my youngest living brother, and ten shades of amazing.  If I accomplish a tenth of what he has achieved, I will consider myself fortunate.

H– Helen Hamilton, my surrogate mother, never letting an untucked shirt go unnoticed.  “Happy Oasis”, my primary teacher in all that is natural and sustainable.  Most of all, my late aunt, Hazel Reilly, the best surrogate mother one could ever have.

I-  Irene Mullins, without whom the American Legion Post would be a far emptier place.

J– Here is where I run the table:  John E. Glaze, Johnny Light, my nephew, Jeff Boivin, Jerry Bathke, Janet Waters, Jenn Winters,Jack Ray- I could write a tome on how much each has given to my life and sense of well-being.

K– My niece, Kim, one of the most loving souls in this plane of existence.  Kyrsten Sinema, keeping fighting the good fight and marching to your own drummer.

L– Mom’s the word.  The most meaningful, and hardest-earned, words of approval I ever hear come from my mother, Lila.   She has been about love and devotion, for over six decades.  When the time comes to give back to her, I am ready.

M– Another gold mine of inspiring people:  My nieces, Marcy and Melanie, tirelessly raising solid families; my friend and collaborator, Melissa Monahan; Mark Bradley, another conscience;  my spiritual guide, Marcia Brehmer; my soul sister, Michele Smith; my nephew, Matt Boivin, building the good life, almost from scratch.

N- My late father-in-law, Norm Fellman, by far the most influential man in my adult life, and a national hero for the ages.  My nephew, Nick Boivin, a master of wise choices and solid goals.

O- The O’Neil family, who had our backs, when we were kids.

P– There is only one, my late wife, and best friend ever, Penny.  Every morning and night, hers is the first and last face I see.  Her thoughts constantly guide me, even through an occasional bout of darkness.

Q– The late John Quinlan, the first person ever to get me to make sense of mathematics.

R– My youngest niece, Rebecca, following us into teaching and making a difference in another rising generation.

S–  Sheryl Colstock, a true angel; Steve Salt, my brother-in-law and quiet well-wisher; Sara Davis, my niece, who matters far more than she may think.

T- Tom Belmonte, my best friend in high school and early adulthood.  Terry McWade, another inspiration and personal hero.

U– Uncle George Boivin, still thriving, at close to 90 years of age, and so creative in a wide range of artisanship.

V- Van Gilmer, one of the most talented singers and choirmasters I’ve ever known.

W- My late Uncle Walter Boivin, who gave me the courage to stand up for myself. Wes Hardin, always ready with a tale of the Texas Panhandle.

X– Anyone not mentioned here, who has had an impact on my life.  You are in my mind and heart- never ignored.

Z- Zakiah Sayeed, physican, artiste and author.  She is a model of what I might achieve, when I grow up.

August 13, 2015, Prescott- I have been asked by a friend here to offer my answers to eight questions she posed and answered on her own site.  So, here goes:

1. Which of the following will mostly resemble the next show you watch (on tv, online, or even dvd)? a nature show, a historical documentary, a cooking show, a sitcom, or sports?   Given these choices, I would most likely watch an historical documentary.  Nature is something I prefer to see up close.

2. Which natural disaster is your state more likely to encounter?  Arizona is most likely to encounter wildfire.  Occasionally, a torrential rain or blizzard passes through.

3. Would you rather vacation in a log cabin, a modern condo, or a Motorhome?   Log cabin, by far.  A motorhome is not something I would buy, and those of my friends who own them are barely able to fit themselves inside.

4. What type of roadkill do you see most where you live?  Skunks and coyotes.

5. If you were on that old MTV show “Fear”, would you most fear walking a rickety catwalk over a canyon, eating worms, or sitting in a tub and having cockroaches poured on your lap?   The catwalk, if it has no rope or cable guards on the sides. The cockroaches could bite and lead to typhus, though, so they would be more dangerous.

6. Do you think you could survive alone 24 hours in the wilderness, with only a jack knife and 3 feet of rope?   Yes, because I know how to forage.

7. Have you ever owned any leather clothing?  I have had one leather jacket, when I was in my thirties.

8. Have you ever eaten jackfruit chips?  No, but I would be glad to try them.  Jackfruit is very tasty.

August 12, 2015, Mohave Valley-  Wherever there are unicorns, there are also dragons.  Where there is joy, sorrow and rage are not far away. Light is accompanied by shadow. I prefer, I insist, that the former will outlast the latter, because that’s how life goes on.

The fire has been reduced to hot spots, which are being monitored, 24/7, by a very capable local fire department.  As always happens in a community that prides itself on independence, there is gratitude towards the local first responders, and grumbling towards the Federal presence, in this case, the Bureau of Land Management.  A government that seems distant, both physically and ideologically, is an easy target, and so it has been here.  The perception, among many who have come by for food, clothing and comfort is that the Feds didn’t seem to care about them, or about their property.  The Gold King mine mishap is thrown in, for good measure, as “eventually, that stuff will find its way down here, en route to the Gulf of California.”

It’s hard for people who are themselves overwhelmed, to see the situations of others- no matter which rung of the ladder we occupy.  I was fortunate to have been raised by parents who instilled the viewing of the situation of the other, in me.  Being the oldest of five made it more urgent.

Having to deal with the local bete noire, yesterday, put this whole concept to the test.  I went through six months, last winter and spring, of being patient and forbearing with someone whom nobody else seemed to want.  These folks are sent to us by a Creator Who desires only to see our full potentials realized.  This, I understand; it was just that, at the end of a long day in the heat, I had trouble waiting for a well-rested, fastidious case worker to complete the process with a needy, isolated and very edgy outcast.  I went back to the truck, turned on the A/C, and saved myself, while keeping the window cracked open enough to hear what was going on.  She completed the matter, thirty minutes later, and the four of us left the man, who felt more accepted, and headed home.  I guess this is one of the lessons that Christ meant to impart, when He worked on Lazarus, and on Mary Magdalene.

There are issues in any community, on any given street, and within any household which has more than one occupant.  In the Fire This Time, we, as a team, did well by the town of Mohave Valley.  After a day largely spent cleaning the gym floor of the temporarily closed Mohave Valley Elementary School, three of us volunteers headed home.  As we left town, a swirl of burned-out desert dust rose high in the air, causing our Team Lead to call in a “possible re-sparked fire”.  It turned out to be just a dust devil, with burned material, almost giving us a farewell, of sorts.

We stopped up the road apiece, at Westside Lilo’s, a homey, relaxed German restaurant, in Seligman, and decompressed with some fine sandwiches, served by an engaging and spirited young woman.  I always enjoy a good bratwurst, and a pretty smile.  The rain, which our driver had feared, seems to have preceded us, and it was an easy drive back to Prescott.

Goodnight, and it looks like tomorrow will be a bit of a respite, before the next big thing.

August 11, 2015, Mohave Valley-  When a crisis overtakes a community, many people come together and work to address the challenges that have arisen.  There are a few outliers and conspiracy theorists who show up, and stage drama.  Then, there are the grifters, who show up and just want, and take.

We had all three types of humans at the  shelter, yesterday.  Several people, who had lost everything, including pets, came, stayed until the evacuation order was lifted, and left at that time.  Others stayed until morning.  Two who felt the world was against them, stayed the night and left at least with the feeling that our corner of it was not so out to get them.  Two others came in, filled their duffel bag with food and toiletries, and left around 10 PM.  (They were technically eligible to stay with us, but chose to go back to their powerless, water-less house, for the night).

Today, I was part of a three-person tam that went out to the neighbourhoods of Mohave Valley and took stock of the damage.  I was the spotter, assessing the current state of the properties.  Another man had computer images of the properties, as they were before the fire.  By comparing the two, we were able to make a realistic assessment of actual damages. These will be useful, when claims are filed.  It may sound like we’re insurance adjusters, but Red Cross uses these assessments to determine how much in emergency aid should be given.  Most people are just grateful that somebody cares and is there for them, at a very bad time in their lives.

It’s hot here, very hot, though the cloud cover from a northern low pressure system mitigated the temperature a bit.  We were glad to let the few who remained this afternoon, stay and rest.  A couple of people were comforted by the staff and made to feel more human than they had in quite a while.  Some ladies helped a badly-shaken young woman, who was disabled, to have a mini-makeover, which probably made her year, not to mention her day.

This is the true depth of what we do- to let people know that, at their core, they are important, and valued.  The fire is mostly out, and the first responders are on hot-spot duty for 48 hours.  Tomorrow noon, we will head back to Prescott, and the local team will continue helping the fire victims, in their recovery process.

August 10, 2015, Mohave Valley, AZ- I got up at 4:17 A.M., so as to be ready for a 6 A.M. departure from Prescott, for this collection of desert villages, hugging the Colorado River, just east of Needles. We got here with 30 minutes to spare, and at 10, had a briefing with the Red Cross team lead.

The task for our team of four was mostly to serve as listening ears and moral supporters for the nearly thirty people sheltering at the vacant Mohave Elementary School, which has been replaced by another school, a few miles away.  It is still a solid facility, and the gym, where people were feeling safe, is a very comfortable spot.

I spent some time sweeping up dust and dirt, keeping the water and electrolyte-replacing drinks iced, and listening to the interesting life stories of several older “desert rats”, as the long-term residents sometimes call themselves.   The fire has wound down enough, so that many residents might return home tomorrow.  Still others, as in any such disaster, have little or nothing to which they might return.  I will find out who has what, tomorrow morning, when our team goes on a “Street Survey” of the affected neighbourhoods.

There is only one silver lining to all this- that the sense of community here is reinforced.

August 9, 2015, Prescott- I spent about ninety minutes, this afternoon, visiting Sharlot Hall Museum, Prescott’s historical gallery.  This was the final day of the 2015 Mountain Arts and Crafts Festival, which coincides with the Cowboy Poets Gathering, at Yavapai College.

This was my fourth visit to the Museum, and was mainly to check out the refurbished Arizona Time Line exhibit, in the main hall.  I noticed there was a panel about the proto-planet, Theia, which collided with Earth, back in the days when our planet more resembled the sunny side of Mercury.  It did not end well for poor Theia.  A very well-crafted pair of Pleistocene wall panels loom above the depictions of North American mammals from that Era.

Otherwise, Sharlot Hall preserves several buildings as they were during the period 1870-1910.  My favourite remains the log Governor’s Mansion. As there were few other visitors here, this afternoon, I was able to enjoy the presence of about five monarch butterflies, one of which had a six-inch wingspan. To see the exteriors of the buildings, please check out my 2012 post: http://peacefulwarrior9.com/2012/01/20/the-exterior-of-sharlot-hall-museum-prescott-az/.

Next up:  I will be in Mohave Valley, in northwest Arizona, for the next three days or so, helping with Red Cross sheltering and damage assessment, owing to a nasty desert wildfire, near the Colorado River.  I will continue to post as time allows, during this time period.