Praise Ye The Lord; Honor Thy Children

For the traditional Christmas Play, the Posada, Mary was played by a pious young lady, and Joseph by one of the Padres. Mary rode the donkey, Joseph led the way. The procession followed, carrying torches, chanting hymns, on their way from one ranch to another begging for shelter for the Virgin Mary, who was tired and could go no further.

The answer from within the ranch house: “This is not an inn, Continue to go; You may be thieves, I trust you not.” At one point along the way a man even tells Joseph to keep on going or he will get angry and beat both the weary travelers. But in the end, when he realizes it is the Holy Family, he throws the door open and sings: “Shelter I give you with much joy; Enter, Good Joseph, Enter with Mary.”

"The Enchanted Hilltop" by Manuel Lepe Praise Ye The Lord; Honor Thy Children

This essay is not to be taken as theological dogma or scientific truth, but merely as imaginative conjecture, inspired by writings of some of the greatest teachers.

Parents and grandparents born in the 19th century, lived by "The Book." They believed what is written in Genesis I, verse 28: And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth, and subdue it; and have dominion over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.

Childbirth is still the near perfect miracle it was at the first Creation. At the opposite pole of life no adult has been able to achieve mortality more than once.

Our generation learned to read and write in the “Once Upon A Time” era of children's literature, of Mother Goose and Aesop's fables. Our confrontation with nature was relative to whether families lived in the city or in the country. There was no mere generation gap in those days. Childhood was an enchanted island and adulthood was represented by continents with oceans between. In those “Once Upon A Time Days” we cannot recollect things such as “Problem Children,” “Planned Parenthood,” “Expanding Universe,” “Ecological Recycling” and “Group Psychotherapy.” Those were the beautiful “Once Upon A Time” days when little girls were sugar and spice and everything nice and little boys were what men are made of and just about every joy in their world was “free under five and half price under 12.” Today's child is a mental giant compared to the adult of one thousand years ago. Television and portable transistor radios have "put him in the picture, alive" on lunar explorations, space odysseys and under the seas. On any Sunday afternoon eight year old Johnny Jones is on a Wildlife preserve in East Africa, seal hunting in the Arctic or on a backpack hike to the floor of the Grand Canyon. Today's child is almost immune to the experience of astonishment as known to the older generation.

The contemporary parent may be, each in his world regardless of sex, an internationally renowned surgeon, or a wizard with unique perception for financial situations. In schools across town, the sons and daughters of those noted parents may be flunking their courses in literature, math, and Ancient History.

At home it's a different story. Parents listen with mixed emotions as their children expound with unashamed conviction their thoughts concerning "Problem Parents" and "Selective Parenthood."

The generation gap is approaching the point of impact stage. For the adult, understanding the minor mind is retrograding in thought and action. He is at a disadvantage to the forward moving dynamism of youth. Family balance and in the end community and our society's balance can only be achieved by the depth to which mature adults explore and understand the minors' world.

THE ART OF MANUEL LEPE

Manuel Lepe defines his creations "Arte Primitivo."

"Lepe, as he is known to his friends, paints in a style of primitive joy. Lepe's world is a world of happy children.

Most Americans know of Puerto Vallarta because of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. We know Puerto Vallarta as the place in Mexico "of happy children next to heaven.' The Mexican Government uses posters with Lepe's happy children. Twenty-four Lepe paintings hang in the Richard Burtons' home. In our world of knowing, working with, and living among those we consider to be the world's finest contemporary artists, we are especially pleased to know Manuel Lepe and to introduce his work to ARIZONA HIGHWAYS readers. We state this with pride because we know that after exposure of several examples of his works in color, scheduled for reproduction in our December magazine, Lepe will be one of the most wanted artists of this generation. In Scottsdale, Manuel Lepe is represented exclusively by Dos Cabezas."

(Arizona Highways, October, 1972).

The quality and appeal for Lepe's happy art has enchanted discerning collectors to the point where the artist asked us to limit expos-ure of his work, due to the demands of prior commitments. We had originally scheduled seven reproductions of Lepe's creations. Due to restrictions imposed by the collector we were forced to withdraw reproductions of three oils on canvas.

South of the border Lepe is represented by El Changarro, Nogales, Sonora.

Children do not play ordinary conventional games unless they are encouraged to do so by the older boys and girls. Children's “games,” strictly speaking, are not games at all. They are the child's inmost reality! They are the child's life-illusion. They turn back to them with a sigh of relief from the impertinent intru-sive activities of grown-up people.

“The Happy Ark” artist: Manuel Lepe courtesy Mr. and Mrs. Howard Kaltenborn Childhood, youth and maturity are no longer oceans apart. In the cosmic sense each family represents a planetary system. Our children are our nearest stars and satellites.

One Jean Paul Richter says of children, “The smallest are nearer God, as the smallest planets are nearest the Sun.” Therefore it is the order of things that we must be inside their planetary system. If we expect our children to reflect our light we must expose our light to them.

If we expect our children to respect the commandment: “Honor thy father and thy mother.” We must honor our children.

The zenith of understanding, according to Confucious, is to confront our heart's desire with reality, without suffering from the impact. This is the privilege of the infant who is utterly innocent and the utterly wise adult because the world ministers to the child's dreams and to the wise man who has learned what to desire. Perhaps this is what Jesus meant when he told his followers that they must become like little children.

"The Blue Forest" by EYVIND EARLE THE MARTIN GALLERY SCOTTSDALE, ARIZONA THE MAGIC FOREST

In the obscure silvan forest of another time before the world of man elves lived in leafy palaces with lofty views. The land was enchanted with the magic of new life the songs of birds, chatter of chipmunks, fragrance of flowers and the presence of woody monarchs stretching toward the heavens.

The elves, of course, have long since departed or have they? Maybe it's just that we can't "see the forest for the trees." The magic of new life is still there and sometimes it's as though one can "feel" the enchantment of a sunny glade. Out of the corner of your eye . . . did you see a fleeting shadow?

The air is crisp and the sky clear as the sun rises over red rock country. This view from Schnebly Hill Road.

The Forest Beyond The Trees

Red Rocks and Morning Mist. Watercolor painting BERNARD H. BRADLEY Chapel of the Holy Cross, Sedona, Arizona. BOB BRADSHAW

Arizona's Oak Creek Sedona scenery has always inspired artists and photographers. The enchantment of an early morning mist drifts dreamily among the red rock peaks of the area. Artist Bradley's technique is reminiscent of the style of Oriental master watercolorists.

beppi

a poem by ELEANOR DI GIULIO The ragged brown-haired donkey trod the cobble stones all up and down the town when Mary needed help.. but on this day he felt excitement in the air because she put those extra weights upon his sides.

He tried to understand but cried a little when she settled on his back and made a clicking noise to start him on his unknown errand over hills; but he was comforted when Joseph held the reins. What made the weight so heavy and the way so long? He stumbled, gathered up his strength to carry on; he staggered, stopped, was urged to go, though muscles sagged until his knees bent down before the old inn door. The keeper would not let them in but sent them to a nearby cave there he could rest, could eat, could wait for strength to be renewed. He shut his eyes, contented as he put his head upon the bedding straw. What was that whirring sound, like birds about his head; could he be dreaming that a light was streaming to his eyes? "no rest for weary donkeys!" he kicked afoot and found himself beneath the Hand of Christ the Child.