Whereas, I believe that I'm monitoring the White House, Congress and the Justice Department quite carefully, it does appear that I fell down on my self-imposed job. It's been a huge job so I'm going to be relatively kind to myself about this most recent failure and, to make up for it, explain and discuss the RAISE Act with you. This one slipped right by me but, considering it was introduced in the Senate on February 13, 2017, very shortly after Donald Trump's inaugural and, thus, a period of time in which I was hiding under my bed, I remained ignorant of it until this morning.

The RAISE Act sounds fairly inocuous and, one hopes, might even be uplifting, but, sadly, that is not the case. RAISE is the acronym for "Reforming American Immigration for Strong Employment Act." It was sponsored by Republicans Tom Cotton and David Perdue.  The bill was re-introduced in August of 2017 as a revision, and, as we speak, is residing in the Senate Judiciary Committee. Senator Roger Wicker joined Cotton and Perdue as a co-sponsor in November, and the bill is now referred to as S.B. 1720.

S.B. 1720 is designed to reduce the level of legal immigration by 50%; impose a cap of 50,000 refugee admissions per year; and, end the visa diversity lottery. As one can imagine, Donald Trump supports this bill.  One of the methods of lowering legal immigration will be to allow only minor children and spouses of U.S. citizens to apply for permanent lawful residency status. Parents and siblings will no longer qualify. Under this pending legislation, Melania Trump's parents would not have been allowed into our country which, I think, would have made Barron Trump very sad. I've read that he is especially close to his Grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Knavs. And, face it...every kid needs a loving grandparent--especially if that kid lives in the White House.

Donald Trump would tell us that this bill will increase both economic growth and wages. Economists, on the other hand--1,400 of them who range across the political spectrum,  predict a negative impact on GDP growth. The Cato Institute (funded by the Koch brothers) has said the legislation will do nothing to boost skilled immigration. "The average American worker is more likely to lose than to gain from immigration restrictions..." per economist Giovanni Peri, Chair of the Department of Economics at the University of California, Davis.

But, let's bring this just a little closer to home, by looking at the point system included in S.B. 1720 which will be the determining factor as to whether or not a person is even allowed to submit an immigrant application. Could you or I qualify? We need at least 30 points each; so let's find out:

#1--Age: Considering the allocation of points, a person is most attractive to the U.S. if he/she is between the ages of 26 and 30. Being in your upper 20's gives you 10 points. Above age 51, you receive no points. However, if you happen to be 73, you, at least, don't lose points. The Aging Generalist=0 points.

#2--Formal Education: These points range from 1 to 13. A high school degree gives you 1 point while a U.S. Professional Degree or Doctoral STEM yields 13.  My Kansas State University BS degree gives me 6 points. Had I graduated from Oxford in England or the Sorbonne in France, I would only have  earned 5 points. I'm one-up in this game. Aging Generalist=6 points.

#3--English Language Proficiency: This appears to be measured in deciles. Frankly, I have no idea what a decile is in this context, but it appears deciles are connected to the required English Proficiency Test. If I do extremely well I will be in the 10th decile (and I'm very confident I can do that) and, thus, rack up 12 points.  Aging Generalist=12 points.

#4--Extraordinary Achievement:  It looks like this category separates the men from the boys. It is possible to amass 40 points in this category alone, thus guaranteeing a person's right to submit an immigration application on the spot.  For that, however, you will need both extraordinary achievements: 1--To be a Nobel Laureate (25 points) and 2--To be an Olympic Medalist (15 points.) Of course, you could do well with only one of these extraordinary achievements, but why stop there? Aging Generalist=0 points.

#5--Job Offer/Highly Compensated Employment: This section allocates points based on your annual salary. It must be at least 150% above the median household income in your state of employment (5 points) topping out at 300% (13 points). Obviously, it will be much easier to earn 13 points with that 300% salary in a lower income state, like Mississippi or West Virginia for example. You may have hoped for a more attractive location for your employment, but 13 points are 13 points You're young. You can move later. Aging Generalist=0 points.

#6--Investment and Active Management of New Enterprise, AKA The Kushner Addendum: If you will be investing at least $1.3 million,  but less than $1.8 million in a U.S. New Commercial Enterprise; and, maintain that investment for three years; and, play an active role in managing the NCE as your primary occupation you will receive 6 points. I'm not terribly impressed by that, as you can receive 6 points merely by being between the ages of 18 and 21. But 6 points is 6 points.  However, if you invest at least $1.8 million in a U.S. New Commercial Enterprise; and, maintain that investment for three years; and, play an active role in managing the NCE as your primary occupation, you will receive 12 points.  And 12 points gets you a lot closer to 30 than 6 points. Aging Generalist=0 points.

#7--Valid Pre-existing Offer of Admission Under Family Preference Category: 2 points. Aging Generalist= 0 points.

Aging Generalist Total=18 points.

Obviously, there would be no immigration application for me...or those of my ilk. Yes, the requirements of the RAISE Act are an interesting amalgam and, dare I say, favor those among us who already have advantage, money, and education. It's not a surprise but, for me, it is a disappointment. I thought we were better than this. I thought we were kinder than this. 

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free; the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door."  Emma Lazarus 



Nearly every morning, I listen to a short meditation--part of Unity Church's "Daily Word" that appears in my Mail Box each day. The meditation lasts about five minutes or so, and repeats daily until a new one pops up on the first day of the next month. There are recurring themes: Love, Light, Presence, Grace, Power, Peace...I especially like Peace, but I generally leave it to others to figure out. The United Nations, for example, or Human Rights Watch, or the Global Peace Initiative. They're professionals, and I have great faith in them, although I am terribly discouraged by the current situation of our world.

A few months ago, as I tried to pay attention to the meditation--in a calm and mindful sort of way--I heard: "Peace in the world begins with peace in my heart." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but of course it does. If I am peaceful in my heart this morning, I will act with peace and grace, and everyone I encounter will (maybe) pick up my peaceful vibe and, in turn, spread even more peace. A Kumbaya moment for sure. And it sounds fairly simple: Peace begets peace begets peace... But, let's wait just a minute. What is peace? It sounds like a silly question, but really--is my peace your peace? Or, conversely, is your peace my peace?

In my mind, Peace is the absence of war. The absence of fighting. I remember my mother had a pat answer whenever I asked what she might want for her birthday or for Christmas. "Peace and Quiet wrapped up in a big red ribbon," she would answer. She did not laugh, or even smile when she said that. I may have been a bit challenging for her.


But, now, as I begin to poke around the internet, I also begin to realize that Peace (wrapped in ribbons or not) might be a bit more complicated than I thought. For example, a young student from St. Mark's Senior Secondary School in New Delhi, India, wrote an essay explaining that Peace was NOT the absence of aggression, violence or hostility, as I obviously had thought. Rather, Peace flowed from the presence of justice. Hmm...the presence of justice. A lofty thought and a positive definition which made me sit up a little straighter and realize that Peace has two faces: Positive Peace and Negative Peace. I had defined an example of Negative Peace while the young man had described Positive Peace. I'm going to suggest that both fulfill our desire for peace, but both are not created equal.

A definition of Positive Peace reads like this: "Attitudes, institutions and structures that create and sustain peaceful societies." Whoa! Now that would require work and planning and preparation and will and openness of heart and mind. Not to mention a great deal of courage and love. A second definition builds on our first: "Absence of war accompanied by particular requirements for the mutual settlement of relations (such as) justice, mutual respect, respect for law and good will."  But, what a wonderful world Positive Peace could bring to us all. It might sound just a bit like heaven...and, perhaps, prove to be nearly as lasting.

Negative Peace is defined exactly as we've already realized: "The absence of violence or an absence of fear." Both of which are good things, but not necessarily lasting things. The "absence of..." phrase makes me feel as if I'm teetering on the brink...one wrong step, one misspoken phrase, one tweet too many and we plunge over the edge. Peace, as we know it, could disappear instantly, and what takes its place is none too attractive. And, to be honest, keeps me awake at night.


So? Where do we go from here? I think I'm deciding to live with and be grateful for any Negative Peace we can generate; but, in addition, to hold tight to, and never give up on the concept and the creation and the growth of Positive Peace. To reach for harmony, acceptance, compassion and tolerance. To celebrate and learn from our differences. To nurture our relationships and friendships. To accept what is, but to never stop working toward making what is, better. 

Let me quote Abraham Lincoln here...a sentence or two from his First Inaugural Address: "We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection...The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the Better Angels of our Nature."

Blessings on you all...



Over the past few months I've pondered the phrase "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps." It's a common phrase, one I've certainly used from time to time. A phrase I've subscribed to over the years; going so far as to point out two events in my own life in which I "pulled myself up" (quite successfully, thank you very much) by my very own size 6 1/2 bootstraps.  Ah...no wonder that phrase has wound its way through the centuries after appearing in a book titled: "The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen" in which said Baron pulled himself out of a swamp (some versions claim he also saved his horse) by his very own pigtail. On the other hand, that book is described as being a collection of traditional tall tales, and that may be where we need to let it rest.

Last April, a young man named Jason Ford, described as a millionaire tech entrepreneur, stepped in front of the PBS Newshour cameras to present his "Humble Opinion" regarding our revered "self-made" success stories. At a quick glance, Mr. Ford appeared to be just such an example. The first in his family to become a millionaire, he had built a software business, then sold it for (in his words) a fortune. Exactly the fellow you'd love to introduce to one of your gorgeous single grand-daughters.

Then he continued, but not in the way I had expected. Not at all. With barely a pause, Mr. Ford told us that if we looked, "just a little deeper" that version of his success story would be a lie. I listened closer.

Step by step, Mr. Ford explained that although his parents were teachers, and sometimes took on temporary jobs to make ends meet, they were homeowners in a safe neighborhood that boasted good schools. You see, his grandparents had helped his parents make the down payment on that house. And the simple fact of home ownership and educated parents and safety and security assured that Mr. Ford had a pretty strong leg up on attending college.

Which he did, on a scholarship. While he was in college his grandmother passed away leaving an inheritance that was divided among her children and grandchildren. In Mr. Ford's case, his share of the inheritance assured that he could finish college debt free.

As his story continues, we learn he had encouraging mentors; family members who could introduce him to successful business owners; an unexpected loan from the sale of property his wife's grandmother had purchased decades before; supportive co-workers; personal self-confidence; and, an engaging personality. And...he was white. And his ancestors were white.

Like it or not, race plays a significant role in this story. And class. And community. And privilege. That is the reality. One that most of us don't want to recognize and even more, don't want to talk about. You see, if his wife's grandparents had been black, they would not have been allowed to purchase the land that eventually financed Mr. Ford's start-up. His wife's grandmother would not have been promoted to the position of School Superintendent. His own parents would not have been able to buy the house in which he grew up...the one in the safe neighborhood close to the good schools.

As Mr. Ford tells us, not everyone is qualified to be an entrepreneur. Or an astronaut. Or whatever you choose. Each endeavor requires a specific set of innate skills and personality; those traits (including gender and race) with which you're born. But, as he describes, we also need help and support. Encouragement, mentoring, financial aid, a sense of security. None of us succeeds alone. The help we receive may be visible or invisible. It may be money or encouragement. We may be born with it or we may acquire it. But it's there.

When Mr. Ford finished his story, I realized with a start that I didn't really write my own story...the one I've told with a fair-sized modicum of pride. My story is really about group effort and has encompassed decades of  help and support  and encouragement and love, and a little loan one summer to tide me over. I didn't pull myself up by my bootstraps, a lot of other people were pulling right along with me. I'm one of the lucky people. As Jason Ford wrote: "I attribute a majority of my success to the generational privilege that comes from being a middle-class White American..."


Jason Ford appeared on PBS Newshour on April 28, 2017. He also published "The Real Reason My Startup Was Successful: Privilege" on the website medium.com.   



Tuesday Morning, 8:00 a.m. Arizona Non-Daylight Savings Time. I turn on the TV...

"Good morning. I am here today to announce that the program known as DACA that was effectuated under the Obama Administration is being rescinded." Thus spoke Jeff Sessions, Attorney General of the United States of America.

The same Jeff Sessions who, in 1986, was rejected by the Senate Judiciary Committee for the position of  U.S. Attorney because of accusations from colleagues and co-workers about his perceived racism. The same Jeff Sessions who was known as a "hard line anti-immigrant lawmaker," and who, over the years, opposed various parts of the 1965 Voting Rights Act. That Jeff Sessions.

One might have expected President Trump to make the announcement himself. After all, he is the President and is expected to shoulder the hard work that entails but, instead, he delegated his Attorney General to stand before the cameras and read the statement.

Mr. Sessions presented his case: President Obama's Executive Order was illegal and unconstitutional. President Obama had circumvented the legislative branch with an unconstitutional exercise of authority.

(President Obama had reviewed what Ronald Reagan in 1986, Bill Clinton in 1996 and 2000, and George Bush in 2007 tried to do and failed. They had "lawfully" involved the legislative branch in their efforts to achieve immigration reform, but the legislative branch refused every overture, every time. President Obama decided on another tack.)

Let's look a little closer at DACA or its formal title: The Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. In listening to Jeff Sessions this morning, and then reading the transcript of his statement, I'm afraid he might have left out a few points and veered just a bit off course.

Here is the list of requirements to apply for and maintain DACA status:
1: The applicant must have been under 31 years old as of June 15, 2012.
2: The applicant must have come to the United States before his/her 16th birthday.
3: The applicant must have lived continuously in the United States from June 15, 2007, until the present.
4: The applicant must have been physically present in the United States on June 15, 2012, and at the time of application.
5: The applicant must have come to the United States without documents before June 15, 2012, or his/her lawful status expired as of June 15, 2012.
6: The applicant must be currently studying, or graduated from high school or earned a certificate of completion of high school or GED, or have been honorably discharged from the Coast Guard or the U.S. military. (Technical and trade school completion also qualifies); AND
7: The applicant must NOT have been convicted of a felony, certain significant misdemeanors (including a single DUI), or three or more misdemeanors of any kind.

In addition, an applicant should consult an attorney, and collect the required documents:
G-29--Notice of Entry of Appearance as Attorney
Form I-821-D--Consideration of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals
Form I-765--Application for a Work Permit, AND
Form I-765WS--Worksheet explaining your economic need to work.

Now, simply collect those documents, two photos and a $495.00 fee (check or money order) and mail to a Phoenix area Lockbox.  Repeat every 24 months. Well, until today anyway.

Please be aware that DACA does not include a path to citizenship, but it does provide a temporary legal status as long as all requirements are met.

Now THIS is important because it is often misunderstood: DACA recipients CAN NOT receive federal benefits. That means NO welfare and NO Food Stamps. Please read that twice. Then pass it on. Because it is true.

DACA recipients, once qualified, can apply for a Drivers License and a Work Permit. In some states they may also qualify for In-State College Tuition. That has been very on and off in Arizona and, right now, is wending its way through court. Once a DACA recipient has found a job and received his/her Temporary Employment Authorization Card, he may apply for a Social Security Number and report wages and pay taxes. A DACA recipient will NOT and does NOT receive Social Security benefits. (But I do and a small portion is because of them. Today that makes me very sad.)

And that is pretty much DACA in a nutshell. That is what the shouting is all about:

An opportunity to remain in the only country and home you've ever known. An opportunity to attend school and learn a trade...if you qualify academically. An opportunity to support the country you've adopted with your tax dollars. An opportunity to live in peace. An opportunity to live without fear. An opportunity to provide your children with a brighter future than you ever had.

Well, until This Morning.



June 1, 2017: We awakened to a beautiful morning. In our part of the world, the earliest hours of the day still carry a tinge of coolness and, if we concentrate, we can sense a hint of moisture in the air. These mornings are numbered, however. They will not last more than another week or two. We live in a desert after all, and according to recent records and heat maps, our temps have risen over 1.5 degrees in the past 22 years. I live here. I believe it.

A little after noon today, the White House rolled out a modicum of pomp and circumstance related to President Trump's announced speech on the Paris Climate Accords. Would we stay in? Would we leave? The President enjoys creating a certain amount of suspense and uncertainty, but today he ran late, and by the time the wayward teleprompter cables were fully functioning, word was out. He was withdrawing the United States from the climate accord. We would join Syria (as someone said, they're rather busy right now) and Nicaragua (who felt the accords were not strict enough) as the only three countries not participating.

A bit of history: 198 "Parties" participated in the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change which was adopted in 1992 and entered into force in 1994. The ultimate goal at the time was "to prevent dangerous human interference with the climate system...including greenhouse gas concentration."

In December 2015, the original parties to the UNFCCC met in Paris to update the 1992 agreement. The resultant Paris Agreement sought to strengthen the global response to the threat of climate change. The objective now was to hold the increase in global average temperature well below 2 degrees Celsius above its pre-industrial levels.

Per a Scientific American repost of a Climate Central article dated 04-20-2016, the pre-industrial temperature data from 1881 to 1910 is considered the most reliable. It is those baseline temperatures we reference as NASA and NOAA monitor today's temps. Whereas the Paris Agreement specified a rise of 2 degree Celsius, scientists are working to limit the increase to 1.5 degrees. At that level, they feel a relatively stable climate, to which humans and other species can adapt, can be maintained. The 1.5 degree goal should also minimize the worst impacts of climate change such as drought, heat waves, heavy rain, flooding and sea level rise.

If current trends continue, scientists believe the world will cross that 1.5 degree threshold in ten to fifteen years. Around 2025-2030. Whereas, I may have shuffled off this mortal coil before then, I expect that my children and their children, not to mention those adorable great-grand babies just now beginning to put their feet on the ground, will still be calling this planet "home."

I hope.

I wish I were more optimistic. I wish even more that President Trump was optimistic and positive and innovative and had written his 30 minute speech to encourage us all to join hands and hearts and minds across borders and seas and cultures and, together, address our climate issue. I know it's an extremely complicated one, but why did we throw up our hands, walk away, and decide to go it alone?  If we're not in the room, we're not in the discussion. If we're not in the discussion, we're shortchanging all those who follow. And if we're shortchanging all who follow, we've failed.


June 2, 2017: Yesterday was not a happy day at our house. We both were disappointed with President Trump's decision and declaration on the Paris Accords and the questionable facts and figures he threw out so easily. Politifact  has published numerous tweets in which he uses the word "hoax" to describe climate change, but he contends those are jokes. His exact words in a November 16, 2012, tweet are: "The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make U.S. manufacturing non-competitive." I don't believe he was joking that time. And certainly not joking yesterday when manufacturing, mining and coal seemed to be writ large. Wind and sun and forward thinking had been left behind.

I hope you all remember Mr. Rogers and his calm and peaceful neighborhood filled with love and kindness. I loved Mr. Rogers, and often watched with my small daughter. I needed Mr. Rogers yesterday. And then I remembered a recent PBS Newshour segment in which we were reminded of Mr. Rogers' advice for times when we were frightened or worried. We were to "Always Look for the Helpers." That phrase had come from Mr. Rogers' mother. I told my Babboo, "We'll look for the helpers."

And, this morning? When I began to read the newspaper and, later, follow up with NPR morning news, I found them. The Helpers. They were all around us. Our Phoenix mayor, Greg Stanton, announced the city would continue to honor the Paris Climate Agreement. Soon, Tucson, Tempe and Flagstaff followed suit. By noon, 30 mayors, 3 governors, 80 university presidents and 100 businesses had announced their continued support of the Agreement. More followed. I learned that the northeastern states had already reduced their carbon emissions by 37% since 2008. There were helpers all across the country.

And then, the absolute highlight when it came to helpers:  Dale Ross, mayor of Georgetown, TX, population 50,000. I might describe him as quintessential Texas. Unassuming, genuine, and good-old-boy (in the best sense of the phrase.) And...for purposes of this post, a Republican who proudly wears his lapel pin from President Trump's inauguration. His interview was all about the fact that Georgetown, TX, located an easy distance from Austin (but conservative to the core) is powered 100% by renewable energy. Ross is fairly blase about that, considering it simply an economic decision. In his words, "...sign today and know what the bill will be in 25 years," as opposed to oil and gas. Although Texas is rich in fossil fuels, Ross looked to its other natural resources, wind and sun. He looks at it as a "no-brainer." He contends the wind always blows in the Panhandle while the sun always shines in West Texas. Why waste that? He also praises our Secretary of Energy, Rick Perry who, as Texas Governor, vastly improved the state's electrical grid, thus making Georgetown's independence possible.

I think I'm beginning to feel a bit better. Still disappointed in our president, of course, but sensing a certain optimism. A budding certainty that our imaginations don't have to be stifled just because President Trump's seems to be. A firm certainty that our world is one, and together we can keep this beautiful blue ball alive and healthy and circling our far away sun. As long as we look for The Helpers and join hands with them, we'll be all right.        



Per Merriam-Webster, "empathy" is defined as: "The action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner." Whew...

The English Oxford Dictionary, less elegant but more to the point states: "Empathy is the ability to understand and share the feelings of another."

Obviously, it makes no real difference which of the definitions you prefer. What does make a difference, at least in my book, is the ever-increasing and oh so unwelcome feeling that, in our 2017 America, empathy may be getting short shrift.

Nearly three weeks ago, a letter appeared on the opinion page of my beloved "Arizona Republic." It began: "Mothers on the radio are praising a local food bank because the food bank provides all the food they need." The writer continues: "Come on, when did we tell mothers that it is the community's responsibility to feed, clothe, house and provide health care for their children. It is no one's job to raise those kids. If you can't feed and provide for a child, don't have one."

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the letter, but it's enough.

A few days later, this letter appeared: "Kudos...Have you ever noticed that many a mother in a food line with her children could stand to lose anywhere from 150-200 pounds..."

And one more: "This is so true...these ladies have kids with no husband and we...have to feed these children...I see them all the time...pulling out their food stamps...dressed up with gold around them..."

Assuming that the editor of the Opinion page prints letters in rough proportion to those he receives, it would appear the negative comments out-numbered those which expressed some understanding of the difficulty of raising a child(ren) in poverty. One writer, after agreeing with the original letter, added: "...I would not want a child to go without because of poor decisions by the parents..." but even that moderating thought implies parental fault.

Only one letter, written by a Social Worker, tried to explain why a family might turn to a Food Bank from time to time. She tells about the difficulty of her clients working for minimum wage (recently raised to $10 per hour in Arizona), while paying rent, buying food, and paying for transportation. Don't forget the other necessities...clothing, school supplies, toiletries, and the list goes on. At most, minimum wage will gross $400 per week...if you work full time. Significantly less if you miss a day because you or your child is too ill for school or work.

A famous man once said: "The poor will always be with us," and, as usual, he was right. But, I also wonder why, if he said it, he didn't correct the problem? God knows, he had the power. Could it be because he was counting on us to fix it? Day by day, person by person? I used to think that he might be challenging us, but I think not. I believe he was trusting us. Trusting us to look after one another. Trusting us to look into another's heart and see (and feel) their hopes and dreams and fears. Because we all have hopes and dreams and fears, and I believe they're remarkably the same everywhere in the world.

I'm worried that in the past few months "different" has become "less than" or "dangerous" or "scary" or "bad" or...just not worth the time and effort. We cling to ourselves, gathering our flock close, and fencing out those who differ from us physically, financially or politically. "We have ours," we seem to be saying. "Let the others get theirs..." forgetting that we all have differing abilities, circumstances, and environments. Unfortunately, it is those very differences that guarantee far too many in this world can not and will never get theirs no matter how hard they try.

Like it or not, I believe that we've been charged to be our brother's keeper. If you read the bible, you may remember that references to our brotherly obligations begin early in Genesis and don't end until the fifth chapter of James, when he reminds us, "...pray for one another..."

So, there it is. A little prayer is a great start...good for the giver as well as the receiver. Then, perhaps, a little gift of food for the shelves of your nearest food bank and, if you can afford it, a financial gift goes a long way. And, over time, a gentle word to your state legislators as they debate Medicaid, and Education, and Minimum Wages plus Sick Leave and all those things that so affect us all. I keep reading that small changes can make big differences. I think I'm going to give it a try!



One doesn't have to live in an Arizona retirement community to fully grasp that Life Is Now, but the nature of that choice brings a great deal of reality to that somewhat poetic thought. Years ago, when we were virtual newcomers here and living on the Main Street of SCG, we became inured to the flashing lights and screaming sirens of emergency vehicles racing past nearly every morning. We generally spotted them sometime between 9:00 a.m. and noon.

Did you know, it's a fact that older people die most often in the morning? When we wake, our body temperature rises, our respiration picks up, our heart rates and blood pressures rise and digestion begins. That is a lot of systems coming back on line, and the stress of those activities can be enough to set off an "acute health event." More specifically, we are most likely to die at 11:00 a.m. If we somehow  make it to noon, the next most popular time of death is 6:00 p.m. Per The Atlantic, it's a matter of genetics and statistics. In other words, every day is a crap shoot.

2017 has not turned out to be one of my better years. January, February and now, a third of March, have simply come and gone and I have no sense of when they were here nor where they went. I used to live like that and wasted complete decades worrying about tomorrow, regretting yesterday, and letting today slip out the back door when I wasn't paying attention. I blame Donald Trump for it, but I think I'm giving him much more credit than he is due.

Because it's me. It's really all  me. I let the election take over my world and began to view each day as one more to live through. One more campaign speech to parse. One more outrageous statement to criticize. One more TV editorial to fact check. And then? It was over. And I was on the losing end, not handling it well. Yesterday, I looked up--just above my desk--and read: "Your Life is Now. Seize It and Make It Amazing." I always imagine that God will sound exactly like James Earl Jones. I'm not sure which one of them spoke yesterday afternoon at about 4:00 p.m., but whoever it was caught my attention.

And so, as with all my crises, it's simply time to: A--Begin to meditate again, and B--Work my way through the appropriate quote. I call it "tapping away" on my laptop, but my Coach describes it as "unfolding my narrative." Isn't that a wonderful image? Unfolding my narrative. That's why everyone needs a Coach. To help us unfold our narrative. I just can't say that enough!

Here we go: I know that I spent the months of 2015 and 2016 concentrating on Mindfulness, and those months moved forward day by day with stately grace. I realized the differences between one day and the next, and remembered those days. Sometimes in detail. I didn't feel rushed and I didn't feel lost. Time wasn't wasted. Time, as a matter of fact, was often wrapped with silk ribbons and treasured. It was never ignored.

Now, right this minute I'm glancing at my watch. It's 3:51 p.m. It's one of those days that makes me remember why we moved to Arizona. BC is fishing with his friends somewhere near Reno, Nevada. He calls daily to let me know he's fine and the fishing is wonderful. They've had a bit of snow, but more of sun. He will bring home stories that will not end, and he'll grin that fishing grin of his that tells me life just couldn't be any better.

And, I'll reciprocate. I love sitting on our patio as the evening sun dips below what we call McMicken Dam--a relatively low earthen dam designed to collect run-off water from the desert that stretches to our northwest. It was built in 1956 and protects Luke Air Force Base (and us) from a catastrophic flood. When the sun finally disappears just below the dam, our palm trees and fencepost cactus become silhouetted against the night sky which, itself, has just begun to bloom with stars and the brighter planets. The breeze cools the slightest bit and, sometimes, even carries the tiniest scent of moisture with it. I'll tell BC what it looked like and felt like and sounded like. And we'll be happy, and mindful for this minute and this hour and this day. For Life and Love and Now.