"Holy Cow, What a Night!" A Causal Dinner with Friends at the New Mendocino Farms

by Dennis Augustine

It was one of those pleasantly mild evenings when the sky holds onto the last warm colors of the day just a little longer than usual. We had made plans to meet up with our good friends, Nelson and Susie Bye, for dinner at the new Mendocino Farms at Westgate in San Jose — a spot where Cecile and I were curious to try since it opened a few months ago.

Pulling into the parking lot, we were immediately greeted by the playful charm of the place — right out front stood a colorful quirky cow sculpture, that felt like a cross between a pop-art installation and a roadside attraction. It brought a smile to our faces even before we stepped through the doors.

Inside, the vibe was light and modern with a nod to the past — black-and-white murals lined the walls, showcasing vintage images of farmers, horse-drawn buggies, and rustic scenes that reminded us of a time when food and community were one and the same. The contrast between the old-world charm and the fresh, contemporary decor gave the space a unique warmth.

We ordered at the counter — the menu was creative and approachable, a mix of elevated sandwiches, like Prosciutto & Chicken with Fresh Mozzarella & Chicken Pesto Caprese sandwiches and Mama Chen’s Chinese Chicken Salad, and Thai Mango Salad. The staff was cheerful and genuinely attentive, bringing the food to our table with the kind of upbeat energy that made us feel like we were being welcomed into someone’s kitchen. Dinner was excellent — bold flavors, fresh ingredients, and thoughtful presentation without the fussiness. We laughed over bites of our food while catching up on our stories since we last saw each other.

As we stepped back outside, full and happy, we paused once more to admire and have our photo taken with the friendly cow out front — a fitting mascot for a place that doesn’t take itself too seriously, but knows how to do food and hospitality just right.

Happy Birthday to My Biking Partner Bill Rothenberg Born on April 15—TAX DAY!

Sharing a birthday with the IRS, explains why you’re so good at finding loopholes…especially the hidden ones—unknown shortcut trails tucked away throughout the South Bay! We’ve shared countless miles riding together and with mutual friends for many years. Thanks for making every ride smoother, every climb more fun, and every route an adventure. Here’s to another year of dodging traffic, conquering climbs, open roads, downhill rides, and exploring hidden gems throughout the Bay Area. Here’s to another year of smooth roads and tax-free miles. Let’s keep rolling. It’s my turn to treat for a birthday lunch ride!

Looking forward to our Santa Cruz to Capitola ride with Charlie. In the meantime, I attached a few photos of our San Francisco ride with Jimi and Jennifer Hunter earlier in the year.

“Turning Grief into Good: Bikes for Students in Africa, Thanks to a Shared Passion”

by Dennis Augustine

When our next door neighbor Howard Green passed away unexpectedly, my wife Cecile and I couldn’t help but feel the quiet ache that settled over his home. His son, Michael, now faced with the heavy task of sorting through over forty-five years of memories and belongings, seemed overwhelmed. Among the things left behind were five bicycles—each one a silent witness to his father’s love for the outdoors and the simple joy of riding.

I thought of my dear friend Jimi Hunter—the one who first got me into biking. Our rides together had not only brought me fitness and fresh air but also a new way of seeing the world. I called him up and shared the situation, and without hesitation, he said, “Let’s do something good with them.”

Together, we offered to take four of the five vintage bikes off of Michael’s hands (Keeping one of his dad’s favorite to remember him by), giving him one less thing to worry about and a little peace of mind knowing they’d be put to good use, and for a good cause. Jimi reached out to Mike’s Bikes Foundation, a nonprofit known for collecting and shipping bicycles to students in African countries, including Kenya, Sierra Leone, and Zimbabwe to name a few helping kids get to school and build a better future. Since 2008, over 34,000 bikes have been donated thus far.

Loading the bikes on Jimi’s bike car rack requiring two trips, we felt a quiet satisfaction—a sense that something beautiful was being born from loss. When Jimi dropped them off, the team at Mike’s Bikes was incredibly grateful.

It was heartwarming to know that we were a small part of something big. That in the middle of grief and transition, we could be a bridge—not just for my neighbor’s son, Michael, but for students and adults who needed them an ocean away. It reminded me that sometimes, we don’t just ride bikes—we move lives forward in the spirit of friendship and giving.

#MikesBikesFoundation

#CommunityKindness

#BikesForGood

#PayItForward #GratitudeInMotion

THE GREAT BLUE HERON'S FlGHT FROM A LAKEFRONT DECK:

"Sitting on a bench after a walk around the Lake,

We watch the lake breathe—small ripples,

Light gliding over the surface like something remembering how to move.

And there—the elegant heron, still as driftwood, a shadow with feathers,

Patient beyond understanding. then, a shift, a ripple not from water—

But from wings. wide, slow, deliberate—as if time had loosened its grip

Just to watch, the air parts—no rush, no need—just the clean lift

Of something ancient reaching for sky, we don’t speak.

The lake doesn’t either. We just hold the moment—like you do

When something beautiful refuses to stay."

Postscript: I took these photos at Rinconada Lake following an after dinner walk with Cecile

Dinner with Friends at Mandala Indian Cuisine in Saratoga: A Vibrant Feast for the Senses”

“From the colorful welcoming rickshaw next to the full bar to the fragrant curries, every detail delights.”

Cecile and I had dinner with dear friends, Bill and Sarah Rothenberg at Mandala Indian Cuisine, in historic Saratoga, which offers a vibrant and inviting atmosphere that complements its diverse menu of North Indian dishes. The restaurant features both indoor and outdoor seating options, including a full bar and a decoratively adorned Indian rickshaw, adding to its colorful ambiance.

We give high praise for the restaurant’s elegant decor, sparkling clean environment, elegant plates and flatware, and cloth napkins with a decorative gold napkin holder. The service was as friendly, professional, and prompt. Our waiter is from Nepal.

For starters, we ordered a bread basket featuring Pesto Naan, Garlic Naan, and Plain Naan and Papadum (crispy cracker made with lentil); and Chicken Momo, a famous Nepalese style steamed chicken dumpling served tomato and sesame chutney and Grape and Avocado Salad. For our entrees, we shared Eggplant Curry, Butter Chicken simmered in tomato cream sauce, Chicken Saag in spinach, and Lamb Vindaloo. All entrees served with white Basmati rice.

For dessert, we went to Dairy Queen to cool our palattes from the deliciously pleasing curries at Mandala.

Mandalay, the City of Gold that I love & Took Refuge in Sadly Crushed by a 7.7 Earthquake

by Dr. Dennis Augustine

Mandalay, once known as the City of Gold, shone with glittering pagodas and deep Buddhist traditions. Among its treasures was Kyaswa Monastery in Wachet, a sanctuary where I spent a month each year between 2005 and 2010 in silent Vipassana meditation and touring. Thanks to my teachers, Steve Smith and Michele Macdonald, the monastery opened its doors to Western retreatants, fostering a deep connection between foreign seekers and the local community.

Beyond meditation, we contributed to impoverished nunneries caring for orphaned children, offering donations to support their ascetic lives. A single dollar stretched far in Myanmar. We also helped fund school uniforms, bringing joy to children who could now attend class with dignity. Some friendships spanned continents—Maybelle and her daughter, Michelle, whom I’ve known since she was six, and her husband, JJ, thankfully found new opportunities in the U.S.

Thankfully—because on March 28, 2025, a devastating 7.7 earthquake struck central Myanmar, its epicenter near the Sagaing Hills, just miles from their childhood homes in Mandalay. The tremors reduced ancient structures to rubble, and the historic Ava Bridge collapsed into the Irrawaddy River. Wachet Jivitadana Hospital was severely damaged, and Thit Seint Nunnery, where nuns once chanted loving-kindness verses to us each evening, was irreparably destroyed. Roads buckled, buildings flattened—Mandalay was left in ruins.

The military junta, which seized power in 2021, declared a state of emergency, with Min Aung Hlaing making a rare appeal for international aid. Yet, as always, the resilience of the Burmese people shone through. Monks, laypeople, and entire communities came together to clear debris, tend to the wounded, and mourn the lost. But the weight of political instability makes the path to recovery even harder.

Buddhist teachings remind us of impermanence, and this tragedy has laid that truth bare. In the face of such sorrow, the bonds forged in years past must become a source of collective strength. Cecile and I will do our share by supporting the Metta-Dana Project to aid those in need. Note: Last two photos are basic food support for 150 people in front of our friend Maybelle's home in Mandalay.

Shadow and Stillness: Stalking the Great Blue Heron During out Walk Around the Lake

Last evening, after dinner, Cecile and I strolled around the Rinconada Lake. It was one of those peaceful moments we cherished—just the two of us, walking in sync, enjoying the quiet. Then, Cecile whispered, “Look at that.”

I followed her gaze and spotted it—an elegant Great Blue Heron, standing motionless at the water’s edge. Its long slender legs were partially submerged, its sharp beak poised like a spear, its eyes locked onto the dark water below. The bird is a perfect hunter, patient and calculating.

But as it stalked its prey, I found myself stalking it. Carefully, I stepped closer, my i-phone in hand, eager to capture the moment. The heron’s body tensed, its elegant frame stretching ever so slightly. I held my breath, waiting. A single twitch of its neck, a sudden movement, and it would take to the sky. I inched forward, the heron remained still. My foot pressed into the soft earth, and just as I steadied my aim—Whoosh! Its massive wings unfurled, and the heron lifted off the ground with effortless grace, its shadow skimming across the lake’s surface. I snapped a burst of photos like a member of the paparazzi, hoping to catch it mid-flight, its broad wings catching the last light of the day.

“Did you get it?” Cecile asked. I checked my phone. A few blurry shots, a couple of silhouettes, and one—just one—where the heron’s wings were spread wide, its form majestic against the twilight sky. I turned the screen toward her. “Stalker caught in the act.” She smiled, slipping her arm under mine as we continued our walk. The lake was still again, the heron now just a distant figure gliding away toward the trees. The hunt was over—for both of us.

Two Beautiful Songbirds Crashed Into our Bay Window & A Compassionate Rescue

Two medium-sized Cedar Waxwings—with distinctive black masks and grey tails tipped in bright yellow—crashed into our floor-to-ceiling bay window overlooking the backyard terrace. Cecile, who was reading on the nearby sofa, was startled by the incident. I heard a loud thump from the den but couldn’t identify its source until Cecile exclaimed, “Oh no, a bird flew into the window, and it must be hurt; there’s blood on the glass.”

I opened the sliding door to check on the bird, initially believing there was only one. As I approached within two feet, it swiftly flew to a neighboring tree, bringing a sense of relief. After cleaning the window, something prompted me to revisit the terrace. There, under our rust-colored umbrella laid flat due to recent gusty winds, I discovered another bird and blood drop markings. Upon gently moving the umbrella, the bird toppled onto its side, raising its right wing before collapsing back down—it was clear this one was injured. The first bird, likely its mate, seemed to be standing guard nearby.

Concerned, Cecile and I agreed we should contact the Santa Clara Valley Bird Alliance (SCVBA). Despite it being a Sunday, they responded promptly. A rescuer arrived, assessed the situation, and determined the bird’s wing was damaged, rendering it unable to fly. Notably, the bird’s mate remained in the tree overlooking our terrace. The rescuer gently cradled the injured bird in a blanket, and drove it to an animal hospital. While we were grateful to aid the bird, it was bittersweet knowing the pair might never reunite during breading season, to focus on raising their young together.

Happy 48 Anniversary to My Beloved Cecile with Memories to Last a Lifetime: A Poem Seems "Apropos"

by Dennis Augustine

Forty-Eight Years of Marriage + Five Cecile: “The Heart of Us”

Forty-eight years + five is not just a number.

It’s mornings with quiet coffee,

evenings where words aren’t needed,

hands that have held on, even when letting go at times might have been easier.

There were storms—there always are.

Days when silence filled the space between us,

when laughter felt like something from another time.

But even on my worst day,

You remembered me on my best day

and beckoned me back.

If you have a partner like that,

you don’t give up on that partner—

because we all have worse days.

Love isn’t just the flowers on anniversaries,

or the perfect moments caught in photographs.

It’s the way she knows my footsteps on the stairs,

the way her voice is the first thing I listen for in a crowded room.

It’s the way she has forgiven me,

not once, but a thousand times,

and the way I have done the same

without ever keeping score.

Forty-eight years is love that outlasts the fire of youth,

love that bends but does not break,

love that is still reaching for my hand

as we walk forward,

together.

Happy Nowruz: A Persian New Year Celebration at Rinconada Hills In Los Gatos

by Dennis Augustine

The Rinconada Hills Association (RHA) Family Committee recently hosted a vibrant Nowruz celebration, bringing together neighbors and friends, including Lily, her husband Abbas, and Saeed, who led the event. Guests enjoyed Persian tea, wine, fruits, cookies, and other treats. The festivities featured children’s crafts, poetry readings, traditional music, and a lively dance party. Lily and Saeed read selections in Farsi and English from renowned Persian Sufi poets Rumi and Hafiz, known for their profound spiritual insights.

Nowruz, meaning “new day,” marks the Persian New Year and the first day of spring. Originating over 3,000 years ago and rooted in Zoroastrianism, it symbolizes renewal and harmony with nature. Celebrated in countries with significant Persian cultural influence, traditions include spring cleaning, gift exchanges, family gatherings, and buying new clothes. A notable ritual is the preparation of the Haft-Sin table, displaying seven items beginning with the Persian letter ‘S’:

• Seeb (apple) representing beauty • Seer (garlic) symbolizing health • Serkeh (vinegar) denoting patience • Sonbol (hyacinth) signifying spring • Samanu (sweet pudding) for fertility • Sabzeh (sprouts) for rebirth • Sekeh (coins) for wealth

A poem by Rumi from my library shelf encapsulates the spirit of Nowruz:

Nowruz is not just the sun reborn, it is a doorway, hidden in light, step through—if you dare—leave behind the weight of yesterday. Do not bring fear, do not bring doubt, for they are shadows, not truth. Bring only the ember of longing, the flame that says, “I am ready.” Spring does not argue with winter—it simply arrives. So too, must you. Nowruz is here. Open your hands, and walk into the new world.

This celebration at Rinconada Hills beautifully honored the rich traditions and cultural significance of Nowruz, fostering a sense of community and renewal among attendees.

Visiting Hajj—Founder of Nopnala Foods—"Mama Africa Approved Cuisine"

by Dennis Augustine

At the end of a 15-mile bike ride early this morning, Bill and I stopped at the Saratoga Farmers Market. The only thing I purchased was fresh orange juice and a container of Peanut Butter Stew from the Nopnala Foods kiosk. In its original version it can best be described as a rich, hearty and flavorful, melody of 100% Sonoma County grass fed beef with tomatoes, onions, veggies (yams) and a coconut peanut sauce that can be served over white or brown rice or grain of choice like couscous, quinoa, or polenta. I chose the vegetarian version with yams. In its original form, it is considered one of "The Gambia’s" National dishes.

In Gambian culture, where according to my son Jason who has traveled there, the people are warm and friendly, “Mama Approved” refers to food or products that meet the high standards of traditional, home-cooked meals—especially those prepared with care, authenticity, and wholesome ingredients. In many African cultures, including The Gambia, mothers and grandmothers are seen as the guardians of culinary traditions, passing down recipes and cooking methods that emphasize quality, freshness, and cultural heritage

As a small business owner and entrepreneur who goes by his nickname Hajj (original name is Alhagi Alieu Daffeh) he considers it an honor and a privilege to visit and support the farms of @tresorwomenwarrior in The Gambia. They are courageous and hardworking women who grow their own food, that not only help to support their families and communities but to teach the less fortunate people to become self sufficient and understand their role in their communities and country as a whole.

On the Road Again: Riding Between Storms

The power went back on the eve before, the storm had passed, leaving behind streets slick with rain and puddles that mirrored the shifting cloud formation above. Then, the sun came out and the streets began to dryout. Like an old friend calling my name, the road beckoned, as the world waited for the next wave of weather to roll in.

The wind picked up as I reached the open stretch of road on the creek trails. The hills glowed a deep emerald green, their slopes dotted with rivulets of water trickling down from last night’s downpour. The creeks that had been dry just a week ago were now rushing, their voices merging into a steady, calming murmur.

I pedaled harder, my body warming against the cool breeze. Clouds still loomed ahead, but for now, the blue sky above held. A hawk soared overhead, its wings outstretched, catching an updraft. I followed its path, feeling a sense of shared freedom—no deadlines, no obligations, just the steady cadence of my pedaling and the road stretching before me.

I kept riding, threading the needle between storms. The road was mine, the air electric with the promise of more rain, and I was exactly where I wanted to be—on the move, on my bike, on the road again.

Pho Lyfe: A Flavorful Vietnamese Restaurant with Cultural Heart and Soul

A family’s prosperity begins at the ancestral altar, where gratitude and offerings nourish both the living and the spirits.”—Vietnamese Proverb

Due to concurrent rain storms hitting the Bay Area, Cecile and I were craving Pho (traditional noodle soup), which we refer to as our Vietnamese comfort food. We found a new casual place called Pho Lyfe in Santa Clara, near my doctor’s office.

Cecile had the Vegetarian Pho and I had Pho with thinly cut steak and brisket that we found to be rich, flavorful and plentiful. It is well balanced with tender meats, fragrant herbs, and vermicelli noodles. The restaurant’s walls feature traditional roll-up artwork depicting everyday life in Vietnamese villages, adding a nostalgic and immersive touch.

The restaurant also features an altar, common in Vietnamese culture, found in homes and businesses to honor deities and ancestors, adding a spiritual component. The altar, adorned with offerings of fruit, green plants, and other traditional décor, reflects Vietnamese traditions of respect and reverence. The presence of statues enhances the space with a philosophical and deep cultural touch, creating an atmosphere reminding us that food is more than just nourishment and sustenance—It’s a sacred reflection of tradition and wisdom.

Proscript: Vietnam is one of the best coutries we have visited in South East Asia several times and frequenting Vietnamese Restaurants always makes us a bit nostalgic.

Dinner with Friends at Opelia Restaurant : A Mediterranean Culinary Journey

As we stepped into Opelia on a crisp Los Gatos evening, the glow of candlelight and the soft hum of conversation set the perfect scene for an intimate dinner. The air carried the warmth of fragrant spices, a promise of a journey through the rich and diverse heritage of the Aegean and Anatolia. What made the evening at Opera even more special—sharing it with our dear friends, Nelson and Susie Bye, who have been our companions on multiple riverboat cruises throughout the United States. Just as we floated together through scenic waterways, savoring the charm of each port, this dinner became another beautiful journey—only this time, through the flavors of the Mediterranean right here in our own backyard.

After bringing us our drinks, our Russian waitress, Karena recommended we start with a Meze Combo as an appetizer, a delightful assortment of small, flavorful dishes that are perfect for sharing. For our entrees, Susie had Moussaka; Nelson had Eggplant and they shared a jumbo prawns dish with artichoke bottoms, capers, arugula pesto, marash, and sea salt flakes. Cecile had Lamb Lolipops with arugula, compari, yogurt and fresh lemon, and a dish of Brussel Sprouts with pomegranate molasses and kesseri cheese; while I enjoyed a braised lamb shank resting atop creamy, cheese-laced barley, that arrived like a dish straight from an Anatolian love story. The fork-tender meat melted on my tongue.

For dessert each couple shared an Elmek Kadayifi, a traditional Anatolian bread pudding filled with mascarpone sabayon with ice cream made out of goat milk that was heavenly. An evening like this isn’t just about dining—it’s about the warmth of friendship, the joy of reminiscing, and the anticipation of the next adventure waiting just beyond the horizon.

The Quiet Beauty & Movement of Nature Unfolds During a Solo Bike Ride

Epigraph: This poem isn't just about distance or speed, but about the discoveries along the way.

An egret wades, still as a whisper,

In the reeds where the water hums.

A Canada goose plucks at the grassy meadow,

Its white feathers shine in the sun.

Walking, riding, gliding free,

I trace the creekside's secret song,

Where burrows hide and branches cradle,

Where brush piles shelter hidden wildlife along the way.

Here, the wild ones weave their stories,

Competing for berries, nuts, and seeds,

For grasses, leaves, and living prey

To feed themselves, to feed their young.

The creek, a ribbon, silver-bright,

Refreshes, reflects, renews,

A passageway for silent travelers,

From mountain peaks to ocean blues.

Through oak-clad hills and golden fields,

Past houses, towers, humming streets,

They move unseen, yet ever near,

Where city's edges and wildness meet.

And high above, the feathered roamers,

Like drifting clouds, take to the sky,

Seeking new and distant havens,

Under sunsets rolling by.

Not all is seen, some life is hidden,

Veiled in shadow, thick with green.

Yet signs remain a track, a feather,

A gnawed branch where teeth have been.

To know this place, you must be still,

Not just to look, but truly see,

A world alive, a world connected,

A neighborhood of mystery.

Brunch with Our Son Jason at “Friends With Benedicts

It is a popular breakfast and brunch spot in Folsom, CA., known for its extensive menu and vibrant atmosphere. The restaurant name is a playful twist on the phrase friends with benefits highlighting their specialty in eggs Benedict dishes.

The establishment also offers a diverse range of brunch options, including fresh salads. that can be customized with protein additions such as chicken, steak, or salmon. These salads offer a lighter yet satisfying option for brunch enthusiasts.

Cecile had Kale Salad: A blend of kale and romaine lettuce, complemented by dried cranberries, pepitas, apple slices, feta cheese, and dressed with poppy seed dressing with shrimp topping.

Jason had New York Salad: Mixed greens topped with bleu cheese, dried cranberries, croutons, red onions, and served with grilled steak, and I had the New York Salad with grilled Salmon.

Dinner with Friends at Chelokababi Restaurant: A Persian Culinary Gem with Enchanting Ambiance

Dinner with Friends at Chelokababi Restaurant: A Persian Culinary Gem with Enchanting Ambiance

There is an old Persian saying: “To share food is to share the soul, for every meal is a feast of the senses, a poetry of flavors, and a bridge between hearts,” and to share it with our good friends and neighbors, Bill and Sarah Rothenberg made it extra special.

Chelokababi, a traditional Iranian dish of steamed rice (Chelow) and a type of kebab, is a true hidden gem, offering an unforgettable Persian dining experience that seamlessly blends exquisite flavors with an enchanting atmosphere. From the moment you step inside, the stunning decor transports you to another world: warm lighting, intricate Persian artwork, and elegant furnishings create a welcoming, almost regal ambiance.

The food including the appetizers were nothing short of outstanding. The kebabs and Rack of Lamb were perfectly grilled, tender, and bursting with authentic flavors, while the saffron-infused rice is simply sublime. The depth of Persian cuisine, and the fresh, aromatic herbs elevate every dish.

Service at Chelokababi, located in Sunnyvale, CA., is as warm as its ambiance, with staff who are both attentive and knowledgeable. Whether you're a longtime fan of Persian food like us or experiencing it for the first time, this restaurant offers an unforgettable culinary journey that lingers long after the last bite. A must-visit for anyone seeking a truly magical dining experience.

Postscript: For dessert we went to “Pints of Joy” ice cream shop, also in Sunnyvale, that specializes in unique flavors unlike any other that is inspired by Indian desserts.

Sunshine & Blue Skies on a Cloudy Day

Two days of rain, a whispered gift,

Left the world in a silver white mist.

Creekside trails, a winding stream,

Spoke in ripples, hushed and clean.

Pedals turning, wheels embrace

The lingering drops, the sky’s soft grace.

Los Gatos Creek, a winding tune,

Hums beneath the ghost of moon.

At the junction, where waters meet,

Reflections dance in hush and heat.

Clouds dissolve in mirrored hue,

Draped in ponds, both old and new.

Aventino, earth-toned bright,

Holds the rain in golden light.

The fountain sings, a liquid prayer,

As breezes lift the weightless air.

And though the sun hides, veiled in gray,

I find its warmth another way.

Through mist and trail, through rain-kissed bliss,

Each breath, each turn—a sunlit kiss.

Visiting the Historic Folsom Farmers Market & Surrounding Cultural Landmarks

Cecile, Jason and I went to the vibrant Historic Folsom Farmers Market located on Sutter Street. It is surrounded by several notable landmarks and attractions that include the prominent turnaround area of the light rail tracks near Scott’s Seafood Roundhouse building. The Gold Line stops there, providing access to and from Sacramento. The tracks loop around for the train to switch directions. There is a small transit station next to the tracks, where riders can board or exit. The area blends historic charm with modern transit convenience, making it a central part of Historic Folsom’s lively atmosphere. Other nearby landmarks include the charming Lake Natoma Inn, where Cecile and I have stayed at on occasion.

I saw a woman at the Farmers Market who was wearing an Amish or Mennonite-style dress and a bonnet carrying a basket on her forearm. She had seen me taking photos of her on the fly, and asked if I wanted to take a photo with her, and I obliged. I had anticipated a pitch of some kind after Cecile took the photo, as I saw her handing out brochures to people, but that pitch never came. Her presence added to the diverse cultural tapestry of the market.

Remembering Joel Eagan: Artist, Cyclist and a Tragic Loss of Life

by Dennis Augustine

Cecile received a sad message the other day from Charlene, a childhood "distant cousin” to let her know about the tragic passing of her 54-year old son, Joel David Eagan. According to the "Red Rock News,” Joel, a talented local artist and photographer, was fatally struck by a Lincoln Navigator SUV In Sedona, AZ., while riding his bike home from the library on Friday evening, February 7, 2025.

At the time of his passing, Cecile and I were in Charlestown, SC visiting her sister Sherry. As I look back, I recall seeing a “ghost bike,” spray painted white, a

often used as a memorial tribute to a person who succumbs to a fatal bicycle accident. According to bicycling.com ghost bikes can be found in at least 220 cities around the world on five continents.

The last time we saw Joel, he was a young boy, who payed us a surprise visit from Idaho, on the back of his dad’s motorcycle. Cecile’s Nana Esther was visiting from Chicago at the time. As a cyclist myself, I felt as mournful about Joel as I did the man who died in Charleston. I imagined their lives and their horrible deaths, and the people they left behind. Apparently, Joel wasn’t wearing a helmet and there were no lights on his motorized bike. It is a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the importance of road safety. Yet, even with all proper precautions, there are no guarantees.

Joel’s artistic vision captured the beauty of landscapes, from Sedona to Telluride, Maui, and Puerto Rico, reflecting his deep appreciation for nature's wonders. He was a talented artist, photographer, and cherished member of the Sedona community for over 24 years.

Cecile and I extend our heartfelt condolences to Charlene, his siblings Julie and Babs, and all who were touched by his art and spirit. A Celebration of Life for Joel took place at Oak Creek Brewing Company, in Sedona, AZ., on March 1. May he RIP!