I began chatting with the young cashier at Safeway today about the mine. He said he used to do shift work at the mine in Miami but 'it was really hard work' and he seemed happier to have his current position in the supermarket. I agreed and said it must be really hard work. Yes, he nodded, but they paid really well. Still... it was hard.
I asked him if he was aware of what might be going on with the Resolution Mine down in Superior. His face turned somber. Yes, he was. His dad worked for an independent contractor company that was doing business with Resolution. He was afraid he would lose his job in March. I told him I was sorry, but that's essentially what I'd been hearing too. I wished him luck and took my leave.
Now, really... who's to blame here? Is it the lawmakers back in Washington dithering around with every other conceivable thing to do with the land swap bill that can't see they are messing around with people's peace of mind in this area of Arizona? Is it Resolution Copper's fault that they swooped into this community like the copper-clad saviors they professed to be and plunked Big Money into the area and awarded and promised jobs but now appear to be withdrawing that support and money because they aren't getting what they wanted? Is it the workers' faults for holding onto Hope that this company would give them a good job and a secure future and they could keep their families in the area they love and provide well for them?
I don't know. Maybe nobody. Maybe everybody. Resolution did pony up a hundred and five million and got the ball rolling. They provided jobs to lots of folks who didn't have them before. They never 'guaranteed' how long the jobs would last, just that the jobs were there, for a time at least. The government never promised they'd agree to the Land Swap deal with a foreign entity, even if it meant Big Money for the federal government. When they found out what a ruckus it was causing with the Native Americans and the withdrawal of previous promises from President Eisenhower that this sacred piece of mountain would not be touched, maybe they don't want to get involved any longer. The workers who left their old jobs that maybe didn't pay as well for new opportunities that might hold up and allow them to get ahead. Isn't that the right of the American taxpayer to have a job that will allow him to live comfortably now and put away something extra for his old age?
But somewhere around here in this Mine-Mess, hope is leaking out and running down the creek. Resolution sees it happening. The workers who currently (at least until March) have jobs with Resolution see it happening. And pardon me, but I don't think they really have a clue about Hope in Washington. But it's running away from them too.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Forty Years
Bill and I celebrated our fortieth wedding anniversary yesterday. Forty years! Man, that's a long time to live with the same person, isn't it? In California, it's almost unheard of. We're a dying breed. It's few and far between. Down here in Arizona, at least in this little town, it's a ho-hum done-deal. A few weeks ago at Sally's Beauty Shop when I stopped in to get my hair cut and announced we were having our fortieth anniversary, the hairdresser patted me on the shoulder and said she and her husband were having their forty-sixth this year. Then, that "that gal over there is celebrating her forty-fourth", and somebody else under the drier was fixing to celebrate her fiftieth. So, I guess it just depends where you're coming from if it's an odd occurrence or not.
But forty years? Well, pardon me, but I'm going to pat Bill and me on the back right now for sticking with each other for that long, okay? Forty years ago, Bill married a naive little eighteen-year-old who knew practically nothing about anything. He, himself, was a precocious, (sometimes) swaggering young man who would say "No!" to nothing. Bring it on! And what he didn't know he'd find out while he was learning it, thank you. We've both weathered and tempered and settled down and learned a lot in the intervening forty years. Thank you, God! that we're not the same people we were forty years ago. But part of the recreating ourselves every few years with a new hobby or interest has what's held us together and made our union so happy and long lived.
At first, it was fishing. Then we moved on to when he was a pilot and we flew to Mexico for fishing and diving vacations in his small plane. Next it was scuba diving for both of us and we experienced some wonderful underwater vacations all around the world. We morphed that into underwater photography, stills for me and videos for him and learned lots more on the computer and how to put on slide shows and make videos. Harleys came into the next phase of our interest and again, more adventures and more trips. So, Fun just keeps on coming. Right now, we've added golf (I believe there's a law some place that says you gotta play golf if you live in Arizona or Florida or Hawaii, isn't there?). And I would never say there won't be more new hobbies or interests somewhere in our future, since I am married to the man who just keeps re-creating himself.
We celebrated with a nice little family party here in Superior. It was a foul day, by Arizona standards, on Sunday. It rained three inches and was dark and chill. But my folks came up from Casa Grande with Al and Gloria. Brother Tom arrived from Apache Junction. We barbecued ribs and steaks in the garage and served some chilled Mexican shrimp. I made Bill's favorite dessert from forty years ago, a Refrigerator Chocolate Angel Cake with chocolate whipped cream. Since it was so cold outside, Bill lit a fire in our fireplace and we sat around and enjoyed the warmth all afternoon.
No, maybe it wasn't the most wildly exciting celebrations we've ever had. (Our twenty-ninth was on the beach at a table overlooking the rocks at the finesterra [end of the world] in Cabo San Lucas. And when the young waiter heard we were celebrating that venerable of a number, he beseeched Bill, "Pleeze, sir! How you stay weez de same woman for dat long? I only have my wife fo' fo' year and dat too long!") But this anniversary was definitely one of the Best Ones in all of the forty.
As my dad left, he gave me a hug and said, "Nancy, I'll be around to help you celebrate your eightieth!" and I just bet he will!
But forty years? Well, pardon me, but I'm going to pat Bill and me on the back right now for sticking with each other for that long, okay? Forty years ago, Bill married a naive little eighteen-year-old who knew practically nothing about anything. He, himself, was a precocious, (sometimes) swaggering young man who would say "No!" to nothing. Bring it on! And what he didn't know he'd find out while he was learning it, thank you. We've both weathered and tempered and settled down and learned a lot in the intervening forty years. Thank you, God! that we're not the same people we were forty years ago. But part of the recreating ourselves every few years with a new hobby or interest has what's held us together and made our union so happy and long lived.
At first, it was fishing. Then we moved on to when he was a pilot and we flew to Mexico for fishing and diving vacations in his small plane. Next it was scuba diving for both of us and we experienced some wonderful underwater vacations all around the world. We morphed that into underwater photography, stills for me and videos for him and learned lots more on the computer and how to put on slide shows and make videos. Harleys came into the next phase of our interest and again, more adventures and more trips. So, Fun just keeps on coming. Right now, we've added golf (I believe there's a law some place that says you gotta play golf if you live in Arizona or Florida or Hawaii, isn't there?). And I would never say there won't be more new hobbies or interests somewhere in our future, since I am married to the man who just keeps re-creating himself.
We celebrated with a nice little family party here in Superior. It was a foul day, by Arizona standards, on Sunday. It rained three inches and was dark and chill. But my folks came up from Casa Grande with Al and Gloria. Brother Tom arrived from Apache Junction. We barbecued ribs and steaks in the garage and served some chilled Mexican shrimp. I made Bill's favorite dessert from forty years ago, a Refrigerator Chocolate Angel Cake with chocolate whipped cream. Since it was so cold outside, Bill lit a fire in our fireplace and we sat around and enjoyed the warmth all afternoon.
No, maybe it wasn't the most wildly exciting celebrations we've ever had. (Our twenty-ninth was on the beach at a table overlooking the rocks at the finesterra [end of the world] in Cabo San Lucas. And when the young waiter heard we were celebrating that venerable of a number, he beseeched Bill, "Pleeze, sir! How you stay weez de same woman for dat long? I only have my wife fo' fo' year and dat too long!") But this anniversary was definitely one of the Best Ones in all of the forty.
As my dad left, he gave me a hug and said, "Nancy, I'll be around to help you celebrate your eightieth!" and I just bet he will!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Battle Axe Mountain
We took a boonie trip out to Battle Axe Mountain on Friday. It was a crisp, sunny day, mid-sixties, little wind, a clear blue sky. Bill loaded up the Cruiser with Al, Glo, Tom and me and Chuy of course, snuggled in my arms. It's only a ten mile trip down 177 to the turn-off and we got out roughly eight to ten miles before the road disintegrated and we had to turn around.
Battle Axe is a monolithic slab of a mountain at the end of a box canyon (Walnut Canyon) in the White Wilderness in eastern Pinal County. The odd part is that it's far enough away from the main traveled highways that it is not even visible from the road and you feel like you have 'discovered' it when you get there. It is a picture taking opportunity! I thought the mountains and crags on this road were just about as pretty as anything we'd seen in Utah on our way to Sturgis last summer. Everywhere you looked there was another mountain to take a picture of. What joy!
While Uncle Al picked his way up a streambed looking for rocks at the first stop, Bill chose to hike nearly to the top of the first peak while Glo and Tom and Chuy and I climbed up the road looking for more adventure. We were passed by four retired gentlemen on four wheelers also rock collecting.
At the second stop, the Walnut Canyon ends with Battle Axe closing its end off and the road veered sharply up another mountain. That, in turn, opened more vistas on the southwestern side and we shot more videos. Strangely, even though we were probably about four thousand feet high, all the ocotillo were fully in bud here, and we even found flowers on one. None of the ocotillo in Superior or down in Casa Grande are budded out yet. It was like this part of the Sonoran Desert had its own climate control. The third stop took us nearly to the Gila River riverbed, we were just a few miles north of it, but the road petered out into sandy streambeds and the 'best way' was turning into too steep and bouldery a passage, so we had to know when to say "No!" and turn around. We hadn't retraced our footsteps very long when we came about six more four wheelers who were trying to figure out which way to go. We waved. They waved, looking doubtful. They likely figured they had this wilderness all to themselves and here comes a SUV stuffed with sightseers driving out, waving at them. Ya never know who you'll meet in the desert.
Anyway, it was a good day. We didn't pick up all that many rocks but we sure took a lot of pictures and discovering new areas is one of the best parts of Boonie Tooling!
Battle Axe is a monolithic slab of a mountain at the end of a box canyon (Walnut Canyon) in the White Wilderness in eastern Pinal County. The odd part is that it's far enough away from the main traveled highways that it is not even visible from the road and you feel like you have 'discovered' it when you get there. It is a picture taking opportunity! I thought the mountains and crags on this road were just about as pretty as anything we'd seen in Utah on our way to Sturgis last summer. Everywhere you looked there was another mountain to take a picture of. What joy!
While Uncle Al picked his way up a streambed looking for rocks at the first stop, Bill chose to hike nearly to the top of the first peak while Glo and Tom and Chuy and I climbed up the road looking for more adventure. We were passed by four retired gentlemen on four wheelers also rock collecting.
At the second stop, the Walnut Canyon ends with Battle Axe closing its end off and the road veered sharply up another mountain. That, in turn, opened more vistas on the southwestern side and we shot more videos. Strangely, even though we were probably about four thousand feet high, all the ocotillo were fully in bud here, and we even found flowers on one. None of the ocotillo in Superior or down in Casa Grande are budded out yet. It was like this part of the Sonoran Desert had its own climate control. The third stop took us nearly to the Gila River riverbed, we were just a few miles north of it, but the road petered out into sandy streambeds and the 'best way' was turning into too steep and bouldery a passage, so we had to know when to say "No!" and turn around. We hadn't retraced our footsteps very long when we came about six more four wheelers who were trying to figure out which way to go. We waved. They waved, looking doubtful. They likely figured they had this wilderness all to themselves and here comes a SUV stuffed with sightseers driving out, waving at them. Ya never know who you'll meet in the desert.
Anyway, it was a good day. We didn't pick up all that many rocks but we sure took a lot of pictures and discovering new areas is one of the best parts of Boonie Tooling!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
What's Missing?
I have to confess: I still haven't made up my mind yet whether the Resolution Copper Mine will be a good thing for Superior or not. On paper, I think, what's not to like? It would provide for 3000 jobs once it's up and running. It would be the biggest mine in Arizona. The president of the mine says it will provide the US government five billion dollars in revenue and the state of Arizona 2 and a half billion dollars and that doesn't include revenue from the worker's paychecks, etc. It should be a win/win situation.
But on the other hand? On the other hand, the 'sleepy' little town of Superior won't stay the same. The mine will be running twenty-four seven. It will be all underground and lots of automation. It promises not to be anything like what the community of miners has come to expect around here. It will burrow seven thousand feet into the mountain and do its mining underground. Seven thousand feet! That's like a mile and a half. All down under our feet. And what's not to guarantee that it won't all crumble inward? The mine president has reassured the townspeople that contingency would not happen. That they would know well before such a thing would happen and take precautions for it. But.... are they sure? Would they really?
So that's why I'm on the fence about the whole mine thing. I would love to see Superior get some new businesses going and be able to keep its young people employed so they wouldn't have to leave the community once they graduated from high school. I would love to see Main Street actually bustling like it did in the old days, now nearly fifty years ago. But I'd rather see all of that with some assurances that the majestic Apache Leap wasn't going to pitch inward into the mountains it has sprung from or wipe out the town if its underpinnings all go missing.
Hey, I'm not a geologist. I'm just a person who loves the mountain and loves the view and some of this high faluting talk about such a big mine so far underground kind of drives me nuts.
Last Thursday night at the town council meeting, the mine president gave a talk. The federal bill granting the land swap to the mine and guaranteeing the mine's success is stalled in the Senate. The bill, in one guise or another, has been dicking around Congress for about three years now. The House finally passed it last year, and now it only has until next December to get through the Senate. Resolution Copper is starting to weary that the bill will be passed. They say they have allocated a hundred and five million on getting this mine started up and are reluctant to part with more money until they are assured they will be getting the land they want. They have spent something like fifty two million in the reclamation of the old Magma Mine just west of the town. They have rebuilt the old red brick hospital into a suite of offices. They've done a lot for the town in the past three years. But they are businesspeople and they want action. So this year, they say, they will be winding down their activities after March and adopt a Wait and See attitude. Their technical crews will depart for venues in other parts of the world where bureaucracy isn't so prevalent. What I thought was fairly puny of them was that they would not be offering their scholarship to the high school this year. Surely, you guys who can spend a hundred and five million in this little town, could still afford to dig up enough money to fund the scholarship, couldn't you? That's mean!
And what I found compelling when I opened up this week's paper was that there wasn't one hint of what the mine president said at last week's town council meeting about closing up shop and leaving town come March. Not one little note about it! If you hadn't been one of the thirty or forty people at the meeting last week, then you hadn't heard it. I dunno! I'm a Newbie at Small Towns but this one is a mystery to me. Something big and life changing as this mine is and it's all done with very few knowing anything about it. Am I missing something?
But on the other hand? On the other hand, the 'sleepy' little town of Superior won't stay the same. The mine will be running twenty-four seven. It will be all underground and lots of automation. It promises not to be anything like what the community of miners has come to expect around here. It will burrow seven thousand feet into the mountain and do its mining underground. Seven thousand feet! That's like a mile and a half. All down under our feet. And what's not to guarantee that it won't all crumble inward? The mine president has reassured the townspeople that contingency would not happen. That they would know well before such a thing would happen and take precautions for it. But.... are they sure? Would they really?
So that's why I'm on the fence about the whole mine thing. I would love to see Superior get some new businesses going and be able to keep its young people employed so they wouldn't have to leave the community once they graduated from high school. I would love to see Main Street actually bustling like it did in the old days, now nearly fifty years ago. But I'd rather see all of that with some assurances that the majestic Apache Leap wasn't going to pitch inward into the mountains it has sprung from or wipe out the town if its underpinnings all go missing.
Hey, I'm not a geologist. I'm just a person who loves the mountain and loves the view and some of this high faluting talk about such a big mine so far underground kind of drives me nuts.
Last Thursday night at the town council meeting, the mine president gave a talk. The federal bill granting the land swap to the mine and guaranteeing the mine's success is stalled in the Senate. The bill, in one guise or another, has been dicking around Congress for about three years now. The House finally passed it last year, and now it only has until next December to get through the Senate. Resolution Copper is starting to weary that the bill will be passed. They say they have allocated a hundred and five million on getting this mine started up and are reluctant to part with more money until they are assured they will be getting the land they want. They have spent something like fifty two million in the reclamation of the old Magma Mine just west of the town. They have rebuilt the old red brick hospital into a suite of offices. They've done a lot for the town in the past three years. But they are businesspeople and they want action. So this year, they say, they will be winding down their activities after March and adopt a Wait and See attitude. Their technical crews will depart for venues in other parts of the world where bureaucracy isn't so prevalent. What I thought was fairly puny of them was that they would not be offering their scholarship to the high school this year. Surely, you guys who can spend a hundred and five million in this little town, could still afford to dig up enough money to fund the scholarship, couldn't you? That's mean!
And what I found compelling when I opened up this week's paper was that there wasn't one hint of what the mine president said at last week's town council meeting about closing up shop and leaving town come March. Not one little note about it! If you hadn't been one of the thirty or forty people at the meeting last week, then you hadn't heard it. I dunno! I'm a Newbie at Small Towns but this one is a mystery to me. Something big and life changing as this mine is and it's all done with very few knowing anything about it. Am I missing something?
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Oddities
We attended a citizens' committee on crime tonight. Our little town, Superior, our newly adopted little town that I think is so quaint and unique has a grimy little underside. It is Crime. It isn't any sort of shoot-you-dead-crime like in the big cities. But it is undeniably crime-ridden. There's some folks in town who don't have a lot of money. And that's fine. Nobody is holding any of that against anybody. But there's some folks who don't have a lot of money and who don't work either and who have a penchant for meth and other illegal drugs. They also seem to have a knack for helping themselves to other people's stuff, like stealing their cars, breaking into their houses and stealing anything that might appeal to other folks. So, that's why this crime meeting came about.
See, we were broken into last Memorial Day. Our house was. We were up in Dillon Beach then but our little house was victimized by some Have-Nots who shinnied up the deck posts and broke out our sliding glass door and entered the living room and then tried to steal the television set. I say, try to, since they didn't get out of the house before the burglar alarm went off and the police finally came. They did succeed in getting the big heavy TV off the shelf and they did succeed in splintering the door all to heck. So that is why we were particularly interested in this citizen's committee on crime.
Bill attended a town council meeting in August and voiced his concern that businesses weren't going to move into Superior if they had to worry about a rising crime rate. Folks wouldn't be crazy about moving here and raising a family if they had to keep worrying about theft of their possessions. And the many retired folks looking for a quaint town to retire in would look elsewhere with an out of control crime rate. So maybe his little speech in August did some good, for in September a citizens' committee on crime was started and tonight they had members of the police department, the mayor, the sheriff's department, the district attorney, the probation department and the local justice of the peace and a superior court judge come to talk to folks to tell us what is what.
Family is a big deal in this little town which I applaud. Isn't that the foundation of Small Town Life, raising one's family and being proud of them and living one's life surrounded by one's family? That's the way it 'should be'. But what also is, and maybe not so laudable, is that in this town when some member of one's family messes up, the family members protect them and don't make them 'fess up. It has undermined numerous crimes in this town that should have taken people to court and did not. That, in turn, has turned a lot of law abiding citizens against the police for 'screwing up' and not prosecuting So 'n So's son because there wasn't enough evidence. Inevitably, as the mayor put it with a huge dismaying sigh, "there's too much finger pointing and not much else". Well, finger pointing isn't going to do it, so that's why the different groups of law enforcement were there.
What it looks like will happen is that there's a good group through the sheriff's office already working in the schools and a citizen's group maybe trying to get another youth group started outside of school. There's a movement within the city police department to have citizens groups do some patrolling, do some clerical work in the department itself and have a neighborhood crime watch program started. The mayor urged folks to step forward and not be afraid of retribution. The town council has begun abatement proceedings for neglected properties which breed criminal activities. It's all positive and it will all take work, but it appears the town is on the right track.
It wasn't all a Love Fest however. There were some folks there who were resentful at the police department for past mistakes. They wanted to air their gripes. It's a small town, they're entitled to it. Old grudges aren't easily forgotten by some, even if maybe this wasn't the place to air real old Dirty Laundry.
But there is one old fellow who has just worn out his welcome in this town. He claims there is a lawless faction of druggies on his block and he airs his complaints at every town council meeting about the useless police department until you want to jump out of your chair and gag him with a dirty sock. The man wouldn't know how to win folks over with constructive remarks. He only knows how to complain and make a great fool of himself. More than once, we have heard the mayor remind him he may only talk for three minutes while he drones on about his problems and those of the police department and those of the town council endlessly.
When I saw he was sitting in the front row tonight, I groaned inwardly. But for the most part, he appeared to be minding his manners and only interrupted a few times. Until the end. Then he started spouting off and interrupting the speakers. I watched the chief of police and the mayor at the podium and noticed that their eyes weren't looking at the man at all. It was as though he weren't there. Bill and I were sitting to one side but in the second row so we could see this man's face sideways. And when I slid my eyes over at him, I did a double take. Was that a ring in his nose? A blue plastic ring?
Quickly, I looked at Bill's face, who was watching the current speaker talking. Mentally, I urged him to take a look at the Bothersome Man's face. It seemed to work. In a few moments, Bill's eyes flicked over that way and then looked down at me.
I dug my elbow into his side. "Is that for real?" I whispered.
"No shit!" Bill slid me a quick grin and turned his attention back to the speaker.
I looked again. No shit, for certain. The Town Agitator was sucking on a blue plastic pacifier. But he kept popping it out of his mouth when he was vexed and had to interrupt a speaker with a question.
I was mortified with embarassment by the man. What in the world were the representatives from the county and the law enforcement agencies wondering by the likes of that man in our meeting? Would they think Superior was a joke? Would they think the rest of us law abiding citizens were a bunch of ninnies too? Or would they just think, well, Superior is just a little town with a big problem: You gotta take the Soup with the Nuts!
See, we were broken into last Memorial Day. Our house was. We were up in Dillon Beach then but our little house was victimized by some Have-Nots who shinnied up the deck posts and broke out our sliding glass door and entered the living room and then tried to steal the television set. I say, try to, since they didn't get out of the house before the burglar alarm went off and the police finally came. They did succeed in getting the big heavy TV off the shelf and they did succeed in splintering the door all to heck. So that is why we were particularly interested in this citizen's committee on crime.
Bill attended a town council meeting in August and voiced his concern that businesses weren't going to move into Superior if they had to worry about a rising crime rate. Folks wouldn't be crazy about moving here and raising a family if they had to keep worrying about theft of their possessions. And the many retired folks looking for a quaint town to retire in would look elsewhere with an out of control crime rate. So maybe his little speech in August did some good, for in September a citizens' committee on crime was started and tonight they had members of the police department, the mayor, the sheriff's department, the district attorney, the probation department and the local justice of the peace and a superior court judge come to talk to folks to tell us what is what.
Family is a big deal in this little town which I applaud. Isn't that the foundation of Small Town Life, raising one's family and being proud of them and living one's life surrounded by one's family? That's the way it 'should be'. But what also is, and maybe not so laudable, is that in this town when some member of one's family messes up, the family members protect them and don't make them 'fess up. It has undermined numerous crimes in this town that should have taken people to court and did not. That, in turn, has turned a lot of law abiding citizens against the police for 'screwing up' and not prosecuting So 'n So's son because there wasn't enough evidence. Inevitably, as the mayor put it with a huge dismaying sigh, "there's too much finger pointing and not much else". Well, finger pointing isn't going to do it, so that's why the different groups of law enforcement were there.
What it looks like will happen is that there's a good group through the sheriff's office already working in the schools and a citizen's group maybe trying to get another youth group started outside of school. There's a movement within the city police department to have citizens groups do some patrolling, do some clerical work in the department itself and have a neighborhood crime watch program started. The mayor urged folks to step forward and not be afraid of retribution. The town council has begun abatement proceedings for neglected properties which breed criminal activities. It's all positive and it will all take work, but it appears the town is on the right track.
It wasn't all a Love Fest however. There were some folks there who were resentful at the police department for past mistakes. They wanted to air their gripes. It's a small town, they're entitled to it. Old grudges aren't easily forgotten by some, even if maybe this wasn't the place to air real old Dirty Laundry.
But there is one old fellow who has just worn out his welcome in this town. He claims there is a lawless faction of druggies on his block and he airs his complaints at every town council meeting about the useless police department until you want to jump out of your chair and gag him with a dirty sock. The man wouldn't know how to win folks over with constructive remarks. He only knows how to complain and make a great fool of himself. More than once, we have heard the mayor remind him he may only talk for three minutes while he drones on about his problems and those of the police department and those of the town council endlessly.
When I saw he was sitting in the front row tonight, I groaned inwardly. But for the most part, he appeared to be minding his manners and only interrupted a few times. Until the end. Then he started spouting off and interrupting the speakers. I watched the chief of police and the mayor at the podium and noticed that their eyes weren't looking at the man at all. It was as though he weren't there. Bill and I were sitting to one side but in the second row so we could see this man's face sideways. And when I slid my eyes over at him, I did a double take. Was that a ring in his nose? A blue plastic ring?
Quickly, I looked at Bill's face, who was watching the current speaker talking. Mentally, I urged him to take a look at the Bothersome Man's face. It seemed to work. In a few moments, Bill's eyes flicked over that way and then looked down at me.
I dug my elbow into his side. "Is that for real?" I whispered.
"No shit!" Bill slid me a quick grin and turned his attention back to the speaker.
I looked again. No shit, for certain. The Town Agitator was sucking on a blue plastic pacifier. But he kept popping it out of his mouth when he was vexed and had to interrupt a speaker with a question.
I was mortified with embarassment by the man. What in the world were the representatives from the county and the law enforcement agencies wondering by the likes of that man in our meeting? Would they think Superior was a joke? Would they think the rest of us law abiding citizens were a bunch of ninnies too? Or would they just think, well, Superior is just a little town with a big problem: You gotta take the Soup with the Nuts!
Friday, January 18, 2008
Boonie Tooling
Our love of tooling around in the boonies started on our Baja California trips when our sons were just kids. We bought a '69 International Travel-all that served as our principal means of transportation to Mulege (the closest town) and the ideal way to see the rugged Baja penisula. We experienced a lot of adventures in that old truck, scraping and easing our way over boulder strewn roads and inching up mountains, always wondering what the next turn would reveal.
So it's no wonder that even if the old Travel-all is a pile of rusting metal in some Baja scrap heap that our interest in tooling around the desert wilderness is as strong as ever. Hence: the FJ Cruiser. While it in no way resembles the hardy International, it does have four wheel drive. And while we used to have to drive with the windows open to keep from cooking in the Baja heat while the dust about choked us out, we can keep our windows rolled up and enjoy the air conditioning or the heater and breathe with no dust up our nose.
This week, we loaded up the Cruiser with my sister, Glo and her husband, Al, and our slowly-beginning-to-like-to-travel puppy, Chuy and drove off to the wilderness. We were armed to the hilt with canvas rock collecting bags, Al packed a dandy rock hammer, bottles of water, sun screen and some chewy granola bars, as well as two way radios and cell phones. Travel had never been this thorough in the old Baja Days!
Bill chose a route just west of Superior on the old Silver King Mine road. It goes out past a calcium plant run by a Swiss company and then you enter nice Sonoran Desert. Saguaros and aloe and jojoba dot the landscape. The road was dirt but for the most part, well maintained and we ambled along at a decent speed. We passed the back side of the old Magma mine's slag heap where the water for the mining operation was stored. It would make a fine lake if it was filled up but Bill said it would probably be toxic enough to kill you if you fell in.
Soon we came to a stream bed and another road edged off into that. Too inviting to pass up, Bill turned off into that and we drove a short way up the creekbed. We stopped and got out and soon were scrutinizing the area for likely rocks. Some of the bigger pieces of quartz congomerate were just too appealing to pass up but their size forbid carrying them around. We ended up putting them directly into our return path so we could collect them on our return. We went about half a mile up the stream when Bill and Chuy returned to get the Cruiser and attempt to get up the streambed to pick up our rocks. They managed to get about halfway there and we lugged the bigger rocks back and loaded them into the trunk.
We were off for the second leg of our rock collecting trip. This time, after a short sojurn up the well-maintained road, Bill spotted the remains of an old mine halfway up one of the mountains. It was just too appealing to leave it alone. So he took a route that was rain rutted and boulder-y and proved a much slower pace than the previous road. We inched along, sliding over boulders and jouncing over rocks and holes. I was wearing a talking pedometer my son gave me for Christmas, and every once in a while it would announce, "You have walked three tenths of a mile" just from the jounciness of sitting in the backseat. What did it know?
Halfway up the mountain, we passed the first of an old mine shaft that had been concreted closed and I looked down alarmed to find what might have been a ditch next to the cliff had sloughed away into a six foot deep ravine. "Uh, Bill? Maybe we've gone far enough."
"We can't turn around here," he grunted, steering over an opposing hole.
I looked over at my sister, who is not at ease with heights and fally-away-roads. She was sitting on the hillside-side of the road. When I looked at her with my eyes wide, she said, "What? Did you see those perfect specimen of soapweed?"
"That aloe stuff?"
She nodded, immune to the six foot ravine on my side of the car. "The Indians used to make soap from it. And look at all these plants here."
"Goody," I mumbled.
At that junction, Bill stopped and had us disembark. "I'm going to try and turn around," he said.
I amused myself with taking one picture after another to record the tortuous twelve point turn he was inching around to get the truck headed downhill. Chuy amused himself by trying to tow me down the hill and back toward civilization. Gloria amused herself by admiring the soapwort or whatever it was called. Al amused himself by trying to point Bill in the best area for his next turn. There wasn't much to choose from.
At that point, the four of us heard a distinctive 'clunk'. Something had snapped under the Cruiser's running gear. Gloria fingered her cell phone. I looked at my shoes. I doubted they could bear up under the distance to get us back to Highway 60. Al picked up something hard and black and rubber-like that had just bounced off the undercarriage of the Cruiser.
Bill finished turning the car around and then crawled under it to see what the damage was. The three of us held our breath. "It's part of the sway bar. Looks like the bolt came out of the bracket."
"And... is that bad? Can we make it down?" I held my breath.
"Yeah, we can make it back down. We'll go easy. But we won't take any more side roads today. It's still on warranty. We'll have to go down and get it fixed."
Glo and I let out our breath and loaded back up. Chuy fell asleep in her arms, tired out from his desert adventure. The rocks we picked up rolled back and forth on our tortured trip back down the mountain. Not the most auspicious start of our boonie tooling adventures, but definitely not our last either. Stay tuned!
So it's no wonder that even if the old Travel-all is a pile of rusting metal in some Baja scrap heap that our interest in tooling around the desert wilderness is as strong as ever. Hence: the FJ Cruiser. While it in no way resembles the hardy International, it does have four wheel drive. And while we used to have to drive with the windows open to keep from cooking in the Baja heat while the dust about choked us out, we can keep our windows rolled up and enjoy the air conditioning or the heater and breathe with no dust up our nose.
This week, we loaded up the Cruiser with my sister, Glo and her husband, Al, and our slowly-beginning-to-like-to-travel puppy, Chuy and drove off to the wilderness. We were armed to the hilt with canvas rock collecting bags, Al packed a dandy rock hammer, bottles of water, sun screen and some chewy granola bars, as well as two way radios and cell phones. Travel had never been this thorough in the old Baja Days!
Bill chose a route just west of Superior on the old Silver King Mine road. It goes out past a calcium plant run by a Swiss company and then you enter nice Sonoran Desert. Saguaros and aloe and jojoba dot the landscape. The road was dirt but for the most part, well maintained and we ambled along at a decent speed. We passed the back side of the old Magma mine's slag heap where the water for the mining operation was stored. It would make a fine lake if it was filled up but Bill said it would probably be toxic enough to kill you if you fell in.
Soon we came to a stream bed and another road edged off into that. Too inviting to pass up, Bill turned off into that and we drove a short way up the creekbed. We stopped and got out and soon were scrutinizing the area for likely rocks. Some of the bigger pieces of quartz congomerate were just too appealing to pass up but their size forbid carrying them around. We ended up putting them directly into our return path so we could collect them on our return. We went about half a mile up the stream when Bill and Chuy returned to get the Cruiser and attempt to get up the streambed to pick up our rocks. They managed to get about halfway there and we lugged the bigger rocks back and loaded them into the trunk.
We were off for the second leg of our rock collecting trip. This time, after a short sojurn up the well-maintained road, Bill spotted the remains of an old mine halfway up one of the mountains. It was just too appealing to leave it alone. So he took a route that was rain rutted and boulder-y and proved a much slower pace than the previous road. We inched along, sliding over boulders and jouncing over rocks and holes. I was wearing a talking pedometer my son gave me for Christmas, and every once in a while it would announce, "You have walked three tenths of a mile" just from the jounciness of sitting in the backseat. What did it know?
Halfway up the mountain, we passed the first of an old mine shaft that had been concreted closed and I looked down alarmed to find what might have been a ditch next to the cliff had sloughed away into a six foot deep ravine. "Uh, Bill? Maybe we've gone far enough."
"We can't turn around here," he grunted, steering over an opposing hole.
I looked over at my sister, who is not at ease with heights and fally-away-roads. She was sitting on the hillside-side of the road. When I looked at her with my eyes wide, she said, "What? Did you see those perfect specimen of soapweed?"
"That aloe stuff?"
She nodded, immune to the six foot ravine on my side of the car. "The Indians used to make soap from it. And look at all these plants here."
"Goody," I mumbled.
At that junction, Bill stopped and had us disembark. "I'm going to try and turn around," he said.
I amused myself with taking one picture after another to record the tortuous twelve point turn he was inching around to get the truck headed downhill. Chuy amused himself by trying to tow me down the hill and back toward civilization. Gloria amused herself by admiring the soapwort or whatever it was called. Al amused himself by trying to point Bill in the best area for his next turn. There wasn't much to choose from.
At that point, the four of us heard a distinctive 'clunk'. Something had snapped under the Cruiser's running gear. Gloria fingered her cell phone. I looked at my shoes. I doubted they could bear up under the distance to get us back to Highway 60. Al picked up something hard and black and rubber-like that had just bounced off the undercarriage of the Cruiser.
Bill finished turning the car around and then crawled under it to see what the damage was. The three of us held our breath. "It's part of the sway bar. Looks like the bolt came out of the bracket."
"And... is that bad? Can we make it down?" I held my breath.
"Yeah, we can make it back down. We'll go easy. But we won't take any more side roads today. It's still on warranty. We'll have to go down and get it fixed."
Glo and I let out our breath and loaded back up. Chuy fell asleep in her arms, tired out from his desert adventure. The rocks we picked up rolled back and forth on our tortured trip back down the mountain. Not the most auspicious start of our boonie tooling adventures, but definitely not our last either. Stay tuned!
Monday, January 14, 2008
Unexplainable
When Bill and I found this house two years ago, we knew it was special. It had a special feel about it. Bill said he 'felt' the house the minute he stepped into it and knew it was the one. I've always felt it exude a warm welcome and frankly, have a hard time leaving it. It always makes me wants to cry and feels like the house is saying, "Don't go!"
Maybe you're saying to yourself, "That's nuts! Houses don't have feelings. They're just wood and stone." Ah, but maybe you're wrong.
Of course, the thing I love most about this house is the sunroom. That's what hit Bill too when he first toured it. The sunroom facing the southeast and Apache Leap mountain blazing down on it. The first time I saw it, I knew that room was special and that's why I loved the house. The sunroom was originally the living room back when the house was first built. Later, it was remodeled to include another living/dining area and a bathroom. So the first living room, what we call the sunroom, was left as sort of a formal sitting room or front room. But since it has these great windows looking out at the mountain, we've fashioned it into a great space for meditating and reading and just gathering our thoughts.
We headed down the mountain to the valley to get supplies last Wednesday and didn't return until after dark. I was surprised to find the lights on in the sunroom and the room lit up brilliantly.
"I'm sorry!" I apologized to Bill. "I guess I left the lights on. But I don't think I did. Why would I have even turned them on in the day?"
"You didn't." He spoke shortly. "They were off. That's happened to me before. It's just the sunroom. I arrived from Dillon Beach on one trip and found those lights on."
"Ohhh." I didn't want to think about it. I felt like Sage when he says, "You cweeping me out, Boppy!"
Two days later, I took Chuy out for a nighttime walk. When I came back in, I was surprised to find the light ablaze in the guest bedroom. I went in and sure enough, the lights for the ceiling fan were bright on. "What's going on?" I asked aloud.
Kickers, the Persian, was sleeping atop the pillows on the bed, blinked her sleepy eyes as if asking it was time to get up. I'm pretty sure the cats hadn't turned them on. Neither had Bill. Chuy was blameless. One more.
Then, the next night, the strangest one yet. It was seven in the evening. We'd been watching one of the playoff football games on TV. Bill was sitting on the floor playing with Chuy. I was sitting across the room in a loveseat reading a book. Bill picked the remote up and changed the channel to Sci-Fi network since the game was getting too boring to continue watching. He threw a ball for Chuy. The remote was sitting by itself on a side table. Suddenly, the football game was back on the TV. I looked up briefly, thinking Bill was done with the Sci-Fi show. Men do like to flick the remote, you know.
"What the..." Bill stopped throwing the ball for Chuy. "Did you change that?"
"Do what? I thought you were watching the football game."
"I had it on the Sci-Fi channel. It just changed itself."
"Ooooh." Now I got goosebumps down my neck and back. Those psychic tingles. I do pay attention to them. "Somebody wanted to watch the football game?"
"Apparently," Bill said grimly. But he didn't change the channel. He left it on the football game for the next fifteen minutes. If there had been somebody in there wanting to know how the game turned out, Bill wasn't going to agitate them and turn the channel to something else. You gotta know when to keep the status quo happy, I guess.
Maybe you're saying to yourself, "That's nuts! Houses don't have feelings. They're just wood and stone." Ah, but maybe you're wrong.
Of course, the thing I love most about this house is the sunroom. That's what hit Bill too when he first toured it. The sunroom facing the southeast and Apache Leap mountain blazing down on it. The first time I saw it, I knew that room was special and that's why I loved the house. The sunroom was originally the living room back when the house was first built. Later, it was remodeled to include another living/dining area and a bathroom. So the first living room, what we call the sunroom, was left as sort of a formal sitting room or front room. But since it has these great windows looking out at the mountain, we've fashioned it into a great space for meditating and reading and just gathering our thoughts.
We headed down the mountain to the valley to get supplies last Wednesday and didn't return until after dark. I was surprised to find the lights on in the sunroom and the room lit up brilliantly.
"I'm sorry!" I apologized to Bill. "I guess I left the lights on. But I don't think I did. Why would I have even turned them on in the day?"
"You didn't." He spoke shortly. "They were off. That's happened to me before. It's just the sunroom. I arrived from Dillon Beach on one trip and found those lights on."
"Ohhh." I didn't want to think about it. I felt like Sage when he says, "You cweeping me out, Boppy!"
Two days later, I took Chuy out for a nighttime walk. When I came back in, I was surprised to find the light ablaze in the guest bedroom. I went in and sure enough, the lights for the ceiling fan were bright on. "What's going on?" I asked aloud.
Kickers, the Persian, was sleeping atop the pillows on the bed, blinked her sleepy eyes as if asking it was time to get up. I'm pretty sure the cats hadn't turned them on. Neither had Bill. Chuy was blameless. One more.
Then, the next night, the strangest one yet. It was seven in the evening. We'd been watching one of the playoff football games on TV. Bill was sitting on the floor playing with Chuy. I was sitting across the room in a loveseat reading a book. Bill picked the remote up and changed the channel to Sci-Fi network since the game was getting too boring to continue watching. He threw a ball for Chuy. The remote was sitting by itself on a side table. Suddenly, the football game was back on the TV. I looked up briefly, thinking Bill was done with the Sci-Fi show. Men do like to flick the remote, you know.
"What the..." Bill stopped throwing the ball for Chuy. "Did you change that?"
"Do what? I thought you were watching the football game."
"I had it on the Sci-Fi channel. It just changed itself."
"Ooooh." Now I got goosebumps down my neck and back. Those psychic tingles. I do pay attention to them. "Somebody wanted to watch the football game?"
"Apparently," Bill said grimly. But he didn't change the channel. He left it on the football game for the next fifteen minutes. If there had been somebody in there wanting to know how the game turned out, Bill wasn't going to agitate them and turn the channel to something else. You gotta know when to keep the status quo happy, I guess.
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