A Grand Experience

July 30. I am about to attach a couple of sticks of dynamite to my new laptop. End of entry.

Friday Night in Sedona

Penny and I just got back from the Molstead's home. This is a very nice couple who is serving as educational superintendents in Nevada and Utah. Beyond that, they are very gracious hosts. We find ourselves in beautiful Sedona on a Friday night-- Sabbath Eve. If you have never been to Sedona, you probably need to put it on your list of places to visit at least once in your lifetime. It is only a mere 6-7 hours out of Southern California. It's worth it. I discovered a beautiful new side of Arizona. I always knew about the Grand Canyon, but Sedona is another level of beauty. The red rock formations take your breath away. You can probably see them in pictures on the Internet or in some book, but the pictures cannot do justice to the imagery.
We are in Sedona for a Superintendent's retreat. It a chance to re-charge before the beginning of a new school year and to network with people that are engaged in a similar ministry. It has been a very enjoyable time. Penny spent the lion's share of the day shopping. She was not a happy camper, but she spent lots of money to show her disdain-- go figure.
I, on the other hand, spent the same time chasing a small white sphere around a golf course in the city of Cornwell-- with rented clubs! How I came to Sedona without golf clubs knowing that I was going to golf with Superintendents from all over the Pacific Union is hard to fathom. The situation becomes more untenable when you consider that I had even borrowed a set of clubs from my son Ruben to use on this momentous occasion. They remained in the middle of the living room space of our small duplex back on the campus of Thunderbird Academy. This after I went through the proverbial third degree from my son for loading the entire set of clubs, which I understood he was tossing out to the curb in order to justify buying himself another set. But I digress. He clarified that he had intended to only gift me the set of irons, not the woods (which are made of metal, mind you), and certainly not the golf bag and all the accessories therein (a snooty lawyer term). I had intended to bring the entire set back after using it for a day of relaxation in Sedona....but enough of that. He let me take his babies to Arizona, where I placed them in the middle of the living room, so as not to forget them, which I promptly did on Friday when I left Scottsdale.
Golf, as life, can be cruel. But it's the people you spend the time with that make the miseries less intolerable, and often comparatively insignificant. I got a chance to golf with Robert, Ruben, Jr., and Ruben III last week. It was an unforgettable day which reminded me that I am blessed to have the privilege of spending a day with the Escalante boys spanning two generations after me.
Every day is a gift. I am reminded not to focus on the events that may mar an otherwise beautiful gift called life. Life-- it's worth living. Yes, Arizona, like life may appear to be, is largely a large expanse of desert, but there are the Sedonas that remind you that there is beauty to be found most everywhere if you are willing to look for it. Happy Sabbath!

Of Greyhounds and Clubs

The desertion continues. Arizona has suffered a major setback to its immigration plans. I am safe...for the time being. The reality of the challenges facing the Adventist educational system is coming into focus as every day passes. I will share more on that at some future entry.
The pace of life has picked up as have the administrative interruptions, the technical glitches; the meetings...yes the meetings. It seems there is a direct link between administration and meetings. That might seem obvious to you, but it is quite a revelation to me how many meetings there are to attend! There are the obvious, and often unscheduled, meetings with people who cross your path. It's a necessary part of what an administrator must do to remain connected. I like that part. People are why I do what I do.
Then there are administrative meetings, i.e., personnel, school boards, education board, and the like. I am sure there will be more meetings that someone will decide I need to attend or risk destroying the fiber of the space continuum. I am not quite sure I enjoy this part yet. That may change when I become more immersed in system-- wow, to hear those words come out of my mouth is more than a bit unsettling.
And if that were not enough, there are the out of office meetings. There was the convention in Vegas, Campmeeting and Hispanic Campmeeting in Prescott, and a retreat in Sedona...and I've only been here for three weeks! Throw in moving out from Riverside, moving in to Scottsdale, a wedding, a sermon, and a couple visits with the family, it's a wonder I get anything done.
I've gone too long. I'll have to wait to tell you about greyhounds and clubs....oh yeah, and about being a deserter.

Desperate Times

It's Friday night and I should be putting the finishing touches on my sermon for tomorrow morning at the Escondido Spanish Church. As it is I am at the ZARF house (another story) waiting for Penny to relieve me so I can go to my son's house to sleep.
I am actually typing this entry on my iPhone since there is no Internet at the ZARF house (another story). I have stories everywhere, but my eyes are getting tired of writing on a 3 inch screen.
On the bright side, it's Sabbath! Rest is good for the body and the soul. God knew what he was doing.

Last Night Stand in Vegas

It's 10:30 p.m. and Penny and I have just dragged ourselves back into Room 5416 at the Riviera. We have just survived what can best be called the Boyatt Death March down the Strip in Las Vegas. It began innocently enough with an invitation by Ed Boyatt and his wife, Teri, to enjoy some sights and interesting facts courtesy of Dr. Boyatt, who is quite an aficionado of the architecture and history of the Strip.
We began the experience with a light supper at the Panda Express at the Fashion Mall across the street from the Venetian. It could have been our last meal! The March ensued beginning with the Venetian, followed by the Palazzo, Treasure Island, Bellagio, Caesar's Palace, after that it becomes a blur. And then we had to return.
The sad thing is that we were in the company of Richard and Anita Molsted, Superintendents of the Nevada-Utah Conference, Ed and Teri Boyatt, retired and near retired educators, and Martha Havens. Penny and I were the youngsters of the group. You would have thought Anita, Ed, Teri, and Dick, were Triathletes (Martha is another story, altogether). They were keeping an Olympic pace while winding themselves through every conceivable sight and sound, nook and cranny of the shopping malls of the Strip. We went down stairwells, up escalators, through paths, across exhibits, under bridges, and I believe there may have been a couple of moats. We dodged cars, and unwarranted advances by over-zealous promoters of vice. Three and a half hours later we returned, emaciated and dehydrated to our hotel room. The memories of the Spartan meal we shared was a faint memory. We were thankful for the remnants of energy we drew from to find our room. Penny is not in a good place right now, but she was quite a trooper.
The Conference ends tomorrow. Then it's back home to the Valley of the Sun-- my new home in the desert of Arizona. Good night, I got to jug a gallon of water.

CDI: Las Vegas

How does a suite in a five star hotel on the Strip in Las Vegas not have Internet? The answer is it does, but not a room on the back side of the Riviera Hotel, built circa 1950...B.C., which is where Penny and are staying during the Differentiated Instruction Convention being held at the Riviera. I have learned through sources, which are probably suspect, that the room rates have gone from 20 dollars a night to 99 dollars a night for this convention. I believe the administrators of the conference are staying elsewhere. At least the air conditioner runs, the jury is still out after two days if it really works all the time. The room fluctuates between 95 degrees (Penny loves it!) and 78 degrees (I doubt it can go any cooler).
Penny and I had dinner with a group of teachers from the Arizona Conference. Three were from Thunderbird Christian Elementary School and the other two were from the Holbrook Indian School. Let's see, their names are(I'm trying to learn all the teacher's names as soon as possible) Paula (Principal TCE), Sarai (TCE K-1 Teacher), Karen (TCE 3-2 Teacher), Shannon (Holbrook Registrar and Spanish Teacher) and Brenda (Holbrook 1-4 Teacher). Shannon is expecting a child in early August, so she is slightly showing. She claims three children have been conceived in the last three years in the 2-bedroom trailer from where her husband and her she just moved. Two were theirs. The third was the couple who moved out to let them move in. I would be careful if the school offered that trailer to me...
I better end this entry and send it off before my Internet shuts off again...

My First Sense of Yuma

It's 11:30 p.m. and I have just arrived in Riverside after touring the southwestern corner of Arizona-- my first visit to Yuma. The trip began in Scottsdale at about 2:00 p.m. on a balmy afternoon in the Valley of the Sun. The thermometer read 112 degrees, but it was a dry heat, as they are prone to say in Phoenix, which means it feels more like 212 degrees-- in the shade!

Inside the Prius with the air conditioner working at full strength it felt like 95 degrees, which was tolerable compared to the desert as far as the eye can see outside the Phoenix city limits. I understand why Arizona has a 75 mile per hour speed limit-- so people can get off the freeways as soon as possible, thus decreasing the possibility of spontaneous combustion. Not good for tourism to have cars exploding in a ball of flames on the desert freeways. The thought crossed my mind as I set my cruise control for 75 miles per hour-- truly tempted to set it at 100. I resisted only because my Prius already has over 200,000 miles on that tiny engine. I was not sure it could take it without imploding.
We made it by late afternoon into Yuma. Penny and I met Joan and Valerie-- two of the most delightful ladies in southwestern Arizona, probably southeastern California (not the conference, mind you, I have female family members there. They are very delightful...). It was exciting to meet and talk with these two teacher friends. They spoke praises about their students, their parents, their church, even their pastor! Imagine that. They were so excited about the 15 students they taught the previous school year. They already had 21 students confirmed for the coming year. I can see why. They are so in love with their mission and anxiously awaiting the coming year. I wanted to enroll myself for the next school year!
I recall how they said there came a time during the past school year when they stopped asking God for more students during their daily worships together (the two of them before school-- missed only two in the two years they have been teaching together). They decided they would simply ask God to provide the funds to sustain the school. They ended the school year in the black-- in fact they ended the school year with a surplus with which to begin the new school year. Amazing what God can do. It reminds me that God's hand is not shortened when it comes to accomplishing what He has set out to accomplish. We are simply the willing or unwilling vessels through which He chooses to work. Well, folks, He is definitely working in Yuma. I will return. I want to see more.
On a side note-- I was stopped three times by immigration officers during my trip back to California. In all honesty, everyone traveling West on Interstate 8 or Highway 86 and 111 was stopped by checkpoints along the way-- two of them in California. I resisted the temptation to speak in my Tijuana drawl. Penny would have pushed me out of the car had I succumbed to the temptation.
We crossed the mighty Colorado Creek on our way out of Yuma and got a taste for the Imperial Valley at night. Brawley and Westmorland are two metropolises you need to mark on your AAA road map. I am back in Riverside to get my Prius serviced for its next tour of duty in the AZ Conference, followed by a wedding in Rosarito, Baja California, on Sunday afternoon, followed by a Differentiated Instruction Convention in Las Vegas on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, followed by a School Board Meeting in Tucson on Wednesday night, followed by....
I gotta get to bed. It is midnight in Riverside and it's only 88 degrees outside. But remember, it's a dry 88 degrees. Boy, am I happy for cool weather!

First Journey

Well, as you can see I have been quite negligent in my entries. This has not been entirely my fault. For one, I am still waiting for an Internet hook-up to be installed at home...home...home...that sound so strange saying that when referring to Scottsdale instead of Riverside, which as been home for over 20 years! Well, I am not in Kansas, I mean California anymore!
But this is home now. This is where God brought Penny and me. We have been quite busy getting to know the people and the territory. We took our first road trip yesterday, Tuesday, and visited three teachers in two different cities to the north of Phoenix. We visited Mark Tamalea'a, the new recruiter for Thunderbird Academy, at Camp Yavapines, in the city of Prescott. He is presently Camp Director for about 800 kids (not all at the same time) from all over the Arizona Conference. Great guy! We had breakfast in a small diner besides a famous creek I of which have since forgotten the name. The hotcakes were delicious, however! We also met Aaron Long, the newly appointed elementary teacher for grades 1-8. Holy mole! How is this poor guy going to do it? He is full of energy and enthusiasm. He has ideas and a full head of steam. He is not waiting for the school year to begin. He is hard at work already. I guess my job is to do everything possible to tip the balance in his direction. Lunch was average. We ate at some brewery he recommended-- lunch only, by the way!
From there Penny and I took the scenic route to Cottonwood, AZ. The route was not by choice. Our GPS took us there. We went over the Himalayas, I believe...wait the Himalayas are not in Arizona, they are in Montana so these must have been the Andes. Sorry about that, my geography is a bit dusty. In any case, as we are coming over the crest of this mountain range above 55,000 feet from the sea bottom in the Pacific Trench, we see one of the most beautiful sights we have ever seen. In the distance was what appeared to be the north rim of the Grand Canyon. I thought it was a bit close to be the Grand Canyon, but I had no other way to explain the multi-colored canyon that was way off in the distance. It was breath-taking!
As it happened it was not the Grand Canyon at all. The Grand Canyon apparently is in Rhode Island. Who would have thunk it? Thank goodness for Wikipedia! In any case, it was Sedona we were beholding! I will be in Sedona late this month. I can't wait to see what those hills look like up close. You gotta see those hills. In any case, I was so captivated by the far off scene of the red rocks of Sedona that I almost missed another odd sight right in front of us-- the town of Jerome. There is no other way to describe it-- it's like a colony of mountain goats became human and decided to colonize the cliffs with human-like housing. No kidding! The houses are right on the rocky cliffs with no visible means of support. The rails on the side of the road could not support a broom handle, much less a human, and there is nothing but down on the other side of the rail. No CAL OSHA here, buddy. It was like going to a third world country in a sense, except it was still America.
I managed to drive our way off the cliffs and to Cottonwood to visit with Donna Oft, teaching principal Verde Valley School. She is a hard worker with a great spirit. The school has beautiful facilities—but few students. It seems to be a recurring problem across the state-- by state I mean the state of Adventist Education.
I sense that God brought me here for a reason. It will take a united effort and a lot of prayer and investment to turn this system around. As I am prone to repeat-- the task if gargantuan, but God's hand is not shortened. He is still more than awesome! If only He installed Internet....

Early Birds

I am not sure this is appropriate to do in blog etiquette, but I am going back a couple of days to recollect an event that took place on Wednesday morning-- my first official complete day on the job.

Since there is no official new employee's orientation book in the Arizona Conference, at least not that I have seen, I was dependent on people to fill me in on the nuts and bolts of the new world I had entered. I was shown many of the ins and outs of the building and some of the critical people who happened to be working that particular day. The people were very nice and warm. Amongst the things that I was told is that morning staff worship takes place at 9:00 a.m. on Mondays, and 8:00 a.m. on Tuesday through Thursday. The office is closed on Fridays-- which is kind of nice. In any case, I was given this information without being provided the keys to enter the building. I figured I would have to arrive sometime prior to 8:00 a.m., but not too early as to have to stand around waiting for someone with the keys to arrive and let us in. I went to sleep that night with that unsettling thought in mind.
The next conscious thought I have is waking up in the morning to a bright light invading the entire room as if the actual sun were parked outside our bedroom window. I remembered having set my alarm for 7:00 a.m. to ensure I would wake up with plenty of time to arrive appropriately. Alas, I took a quick glance at my watch still half blind from the supernova outside my window. My watch clearly read 7:35 p.m. Aaarrrrgh! I woke Penny up with the words, "Did you hear the alarm ring?" "I set it for 7!" "It didn't ring!" "I am going to be late!" All these words were pouring out of my mouth as I ran around the small duplex searching for the necessary items needed to be ready in 20 minutes. I couldn't afford, in my mind, to be late this morning!
I don't know how I we did it, but we were dressed and ready to go in the allotted time. We managed to arrive at the doorstep of the Arizona Conference Adventist Book Center, quite proud of our accomplishment. We smiled at each other tenderly as we both reached to open the double doors that led into the book center and then into the unmanned front office of the conference office. We tugged gently and nothing happened. We tugged a little harder to no avail. I peeked inside to see if there was life within the building. I could not understand why no one would be in the book center at 8:00 a.m. We looked at the hours of operation and they read as expected: 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. We were both struck with a mighty case of righteous indignation, considering the effort it took us to meet our appointment, only to discover that the employees of the Arizona Conference of Seventh-day Adventist did not consider it important enough to arrive on time to their place of employment.
It was then, in my final act of frustration, that I looked at my watch, if for no other reason but to confirm the just nature of my ire. I read in clear numbers....6:00 a.m. Two hours early! We went home and ate a very slow and quiet breakfast.

Friday Night at the Esccos

The Escos-- that is a name we give ourselves as a family, although it is technically incorrect since there are at least two Johnstons amongst us...occasionally. We have developed a tradition of getting together at one of our homes on Friday nights to reconnect, to eat and to talk-- a lot of eating, superseded alone by the talking. We talk about family events. For example, Joe, who suffered a mild heart attack on Tuesday, was on our conversation tonight. We spoke of the lifestyle changes he will have to make to adjust to his physical condition. This we did while we scarfed down a serious quantity of homemade tacos. I mentioned to my family that I would also have to make some changes in my eating habits. They were happy. I clarified by stating I would begin to eat with my left hand. They were not amused.
We also talk about politics, religion, ethics, the Law, the Bible, and any of a myriad of subjects which are deemed worthy of discussion. I must confess I missed out on the core of the conversation tonight since I was busy eating. The tacos were delicious! I also had to leave early to take Nana back to her home. That is another story.
An event of note that was not recalled in the previous entry is that the trailer we brought back from Phoenix disappeared from behind the Suburban sometime between 6:00 a.m. and 6:45 a.m. this morning. We have no idea who did it. I thought everyone was joking when I rolled off the sofa out of curiosity. We had to do the police report and all.
Arizona does not feel real yet. Here I am enjoying Sabbath with my family on Friday night as I have for years. The only difference is that at the end of the day I will be going to another room to sleep since Ruben, Jr. and Janelle are now occupying the master bedroom. This is very strange. But God is good!

Caught Between to States

Since this is supposed to be some sort of journal/blog, I decided to simplify the daily header. I may vary it occasionally, but only as the situation warrants.
I have only been on the job half a week and already I am back in Riverside. It has been an eventful week. The week included one long trip from Riverside to Scottsdale hauling a Suburban and 6x10 trailer filled to capacity with the "basic" household stuff, a half day of unloading cargo, a two days of "work" at the office, a heart attack suffered by a brother-in-law, withdrawal symptoms due to lack of internet in the temporary housing, a quick trip back to Riverside, a tragedy with a sister-in-law's dog who had a serious encounter with a bottle of aspirin-and the week is not over. In hindsight it could have been worse, but you don't think about such logical statements when you in the midst of crisis.
Oh, did I mention my wife was viciously attacked by a hoard of blood-thirsty Arizona cannibal ants. I am quite certain that is not the official name for this particular species of ant. That is of course inconsequential, since that is how my wife, Penny, described the beasts when the ants defended their home en masse from my wife's feet of apocalyptic proportions (of course I mean, from an ant's tiny perspective. This clarification made necessary in the desire to continue living). In any case, my wife was assisting me in loading the Suburban in preparation for our return for the weekend when she found herself standing on the specific location where the previous tenant had quite clearly warned us not to stand since it was the home of a mega-polis anthill inhabited by a very aggressive ant family and a million of their closest relatives. She started jumping and screaming (Penny, not the previous tenant) as if her legs were on fire and clamoring for immediate assistance. I, of course, could not respond since I was in the midst of a major laughing attack set off by her jumping and screaming. Besides, I have an arrangement with fire ants-- they stay in yard, and I stay in my house. Only their tiny, and very annoying distant cousins are permitted inside the house, and then only if they are searching for water. The fire ants have many cousins.

Most Definitely

For those who have been following this blog over the vast expanse of time since the first blog appeared yesterday, please note the main header for the blog has changed. The initial header, Memoirs from the Desert, was submitted prematurely and under great duress from my cyber-genius and computer-savvy son-in-law Jeff, who was creating the template for this blog under the watchful eye and demanding demeanor of my daughter Amanda in whose fertile mind this blog was born. She found it easy to suggest I write random thoughts about my new life in Arizona-- pretty boring stuff, if you ask me, but since she is not writing it, the task seemed like a great idea. So here I am late at night trying to honor my word to write something every day I have Internet access at my disposal.
Oh yes, about the new header...My Life as a Deserter. "Why such an odd header?" you ask. "Are you really a deserter?" Well, in not so many words-- yes. "Oh, so is this blog a cathartic treatise meant to exorcise the demons of some secret Vietnam War life?" is your follow-up query. Hardly! "So, what's up?” You demand. Well, honestly, it's just a cheap attempt to draw people in to read the blog-- I mean people other than family members (who have yet to sign in). My Life as a Deserter just sounded more interesting and less pompous than Memoirs from the Desert, a title more suited to the exploits of some oil sheik in Qatar, or Kuwait, or some other emirate, it doesn't really matter. Never mind....
"Oh," you protest, "so it's false advertising intended to elicit a sort of post-traumatic faux-blog syndrome by some unsuspecting victim?" Never, I am a deserter- twice over to be quite honest. I would never stoop so low as to claim I was something or someone without evidence to the verity of such statement. You'll just have to sign on tomorrow to understand my rationale.

Day One on Day Six

You are correct- this is the first entry in this blog. Not surprisingly, I am a few days late beginning a task I had determined to begin on July 1, 2010. The truth is that it's already July 6, since it's already 12:30 something on Tuesday morning.
Now, I would think an introduction to this blog is appropriate at this time. Perhaps even a reason why I am setting off on this unpredictable trek. My name is Ruben A. Escalante, until recently, principal of Orangewood Academy, a small co-educational Adventist school in Garden Grove, California (five miles south of Disneyland, for those unacquainted with Southern California). I spent nine of the best years of my life immersed in the lives and times of my school community. My life was changed over the near decade I spent traveling the 91 Freeway that connects the Inland Empire to Orange County. I was content to remain for the foreseeable future working beside the incredible group of teachers and amazing students I had the privilege knowing over the years. But alas, I was invited to consider relocating to sunny Arizona to work as Superintendent of Schools for the Adventist Church.
In truth, the title is much more impressive than the actual position. The Adventist Church in Arizona has less than fifteen schools spread across the state. The schools range in size from a full-fledged boarding academy to a one room multi-grade school. So although the position is not impressive, the task is daunting. That is one reason I felt called to respond to the call to serve outside my comfort zone in California. I am trading in the sunny beaches for sun-baked rock formations. The California Poppy is displaced by the Saguaro Cactus. Cool ocean breezes give way to Monsoon tempests. Diamondbacks for Dodgers, Suns for Lakers, Coyotes for Kings... I don't think so. On the other hand, God did not call me to the desert for the sports scene.
This is the reason for this blog. I want to share my desert experience with anyone curious, interested, or simply suffering from insomnia some nameless night. I have lessons yet to learn. I have challenges to face. There are stories to be told. I do not know where the road will take me, but I am excited about the possibilities awaiting me along the way.
My eyes are beginning to feel heavy. A busy day awaits me. Thanks for joining me on my journey.