John Wise

It’s a slow news day in the Wise household as we bide our time waiting for our trip to Europe to roll around. For the past couple of weeks, Caroline busied herself working away on her loom to make handwoven towels for friends and family in Germany. With the length of it cut off the loom and the individual towels separated, it was time to wash them which brings the weave together. Next up, will be the frantic race for Caroline to hem them all, attach her “Made by Caroline” labels and for us to pack them for delivery.

This is not the original text that was meant to accompany my photo of a homeless, handicapped, and ankle-tracked man lying in our walking path. That story was chock-full of snark, cynicism, and what I felt was serious tongue-in-cheek hyperbole that would have easily been understood for what it was, an ugly reflection of the generalizations I pick up on from conversations overheard in public. Would you like to read a sample? Sorry, you cannot. Why? Because I deleted that dumpster fire. You see, I copied the three paragraphs into Google’s Gemini 2.5 Pro asking for professorial level grading and it called me out, dressed me down, only stopping short of calling me an asshole. Here’s some of what this Artificial Intelligence had to say, “Due to profound ethical inconsistencies, a jarringly inappropriate tone, and a lack of critical self-awareness….ethically indefensible….deeply offensive and flippant….undermines the seriousness of the topic….presented without nuance….transforms a human being into a prop for the author’s commentary.”

Well, I let that sink in, and for almost an entire minute, I considered how I could repair such an inflammatory screed before realizing that I’d spend more time explaining what I was trying to convey, and so into the bin it went. Before this, I’ve occasionally fed elements of the book I’m authoring into AI and had gushingly positive critiques (no, I’ve not been using the most current incarnation of ChatGPT from OpenAI that’s been criticized as being ‘Glazing and sycophantic’) and I took the compliments to be part of its programming. This latest interaction has shown me that I can also draw out the ire of the mind in the machine, which is a good thing. Now, if only I could figure out a way to goad people into being concerned about the plight of the neglected, hurt, and often broken people who are homeless and without viable alternatives to fixing their desperate situations.

I want to write about the arrival of spring to the desert because I have two photos that are conducive to the theme. But, honestly, it’s not the subject matter I want to fall into; if it were, I would have started writing a few hours ago when I first sat down in front of them. Instead, I’ve been busy doing nothing meaningful. I suppose that begs the question, what is meaningful? Is a time for stagnation important? I’d have to say yes, and this would be backed up by what we witness elsewhere, such as during the seasons when certain species enjoy downtime. Maybe it’s hibernation, or it could be characterized as dormancy or quiescence. Regarding my current situation, I’d say I’m in a state of quiescence: while I’m able to be active mentally and creatively, the condition of my headspace is preventing it. I can equate where my mind is with where these bees are emerging from after existing in a hive-level period of inactivity due to the cold of winter.

That has me considering the synchronistic nature of the appearance of the flowers of the saguaro cactus. Timed with the end of near-freezing nights, they send out their blossoms when pollinators, such as these bees, can race from the hive as temperatures rise and aid the cacti in their reproductive cycle. This typically occurs in April, so when the monsoons of the desert arrive, the offspring of these giants might have a chance of survival. In this sense, I should relax and understand that after a prolonged period of intense intellectual activity, I must allow the field of my mind to lie fallow until the next burst of creative energy, my linguistic nectar, if you will, is ready for harvest.

My winter of not-writing began at the end of March; quiescence took over. I can already see the conditions where I will surface again, although the hue of my output will be tinted by the need to plant thoughts and impressions arising from the experiences popping out of our vacation. Jumping in here on my blog, wanting to write something about spring, feels like a fever dream, reminding me of what I’ve left behind and what I’m yet to reawaken to. Meanwhile, I’ll try to abide by my time, accepting that now is not when I return with great revelations and cascades of deep thought for which I yearn. Today is not the day I blossom.

Today, Phoenix saw the arrival of Kings Döner, a restaurant serving comfort food with roots in Turkey that took off around the world, though it’s late coming to America. Döner kebap is a Turkish word that means “rotating roast,” which gave rise to gyros in Greece, al pastor in Mexico, and shawarma in the Arab world. And here we are on April 10th, 2025, our first döner shop in the state of Arizona.

Döner kebap really took off when Turkish immigrants in West Berlin during the early 1970s perfected this amazing creation. By the time I arrived in the Frankfurt area of West Germany in late 1984, the sandwich was already ubiquitous across the country, though I’d have to travel to the nearby city of Wiesbaden to find my favorite. When I visit Germany nowadays, Döneria in the Frankfurt neighborhood of Bornheim serves my current all-time favorite.

How does the Kings Döner compare? First off, all döner is different; there is no In-N-Out version of this sandwich that would act as a baseline. I opted for the chicken meat version for my morning breakfast döner. I was their first customer when they opened, as a matter of fact, this was the first döner the family made in America. My plan was, if I liked it, to return with Caroline later in the day so she could have a döner, too, and then I’d try the more traditional veal version. As in Germany, I ordered it without onion and added chili flakes. Now, having experienced their style, I will ask for extra meat and ask them to make it extra crispy. The guys also offer turkey meat, and for those who might be creatures of habit, they have gyros and falafel.

I’m returning this evening because their effort and taste of authenticity are now available in Phoenix, Arizona, and I have to support that. I love döner; other than New York City, I’ve never had this amazing sandwich in the States. I wish the family great luck in a market that hasn’t always embraced food diversity. Let’s hope the younger generation that took to ramen, boba tea, and poke bowls will find enchantment with döner, the king of sandwiches.