The Streets of Bisbee look Different at Night

Last night I walked downtown. Along the way I overheard a couple discussing where they had parked their car. The streets of Bisbee look different at night.

There was another couple with a similar problem. They couldn’t find their Bed and Breakfast.

Once I got to downtown, I was approached by a woman, who was on the verge of tears. She informed me that there were some hoodlums who were in a fight in a backstreet near downtown.

I offered to call 911. She said, “No, the police are already there.”

She had been at the downtown coffee shop. She had met Dennis there. Now she was looking for the third story of a white building. She was going to meet Dennis to play Scrabble.

Canyon de Chelly

We were driving along the scenic road on Canyon de Chelly*; we were on the next to last stop on the scenic route.

We stopped so that Cheri could get a few photos. As Cheri started down the trail, I realized that the walk was too hot for me, so I returned to the jeep.

Shortly thereafter the driver of the car next to us returned to his car.

His teenage daughter was literally dragging her feet across the Enter/Exit markings.

Girl: Okay, Dad, now you have seen everything, right?
Dad: Nope. I have to make one more stop.
Girl: Jeez
Dad: I didn’t dream about this place all of my life, not to make every stop.

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* Canyon de Chelly is in the Navajo Nation

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[Unsolicited advice: Don’t waste your money at Four Corners. The physical monuments are much more spectular.]

Urban Connecticut vs Rural Minnesota

Karen was a new employee at General Mills in Minneapolis. She was from an urban area of Connecticut. She was living with Lois.

I was acting in a play in Barrett. Lois and Karen drove up to Barrett to see the play.

After the play we drove to the Cat’s Eye* to eat. On the way to the Cat’s Eye I met several people that I knew, and in the manner of the county, I waved to them.

Once we were seated at a table in the Cat’s Eye, a waitress came to take our order. I had eaten there often, so the waitress asked me if I wanted the “usual”.

After eating at the Cat’s Eye, we stopped at the Home 20 for ice cream. The menu cover of this restaurant was a copy of an early newspaper of the county. Karen was really astounded by now.

The waiter asked Karen if she would like a menu to take with her as a souvenir. Of course, Karen said yes.

The next week end, Karen had an opportunity to go to Kansas City, but she declined to go. She had seen enough of “rural” America for a while.

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* Cat’s Eye and Home 20 at one time used to be restaurants that I frequented when I lived in rural Minnesota.

Inn at Castle Rock

Josef visited us recently. He stayed at the Inn at Castle Rock. The inn has a reading area, a fridge, and a check in area.

Willa has the responsibility of cleaning the leaves out of these areas. She used the leaf blower instead of a broom. If that isn’t bad enough, the leaf blower is gas driven, leaving behind gasoline fumes.

Because often the wind moves the leaves around the entrance, Willa needs to repeat the operation periodically. Is there an intent to keep residents in their rooms?

Marvin’s Move

Marvin and I had a conversation as we walked along Tombstone Canyon Blvd toward the High Desert Market. He said that the “block” seemed to be getting longer all the time.

Marvin is moving to southwest Missouri to live with his sister. He won’t have to pay any rent because his sister’s house is paid off. He will pay half the utilities.

They don’t always see eye-to-eye but then they each have someone to look after each other when necessary.

He is also excited about having a pickup when he has things to haul.

Yeah, in Missouri it snows and rains a lot.

Rainbow Kids

There is a group of twenty-something hippie-like kids that show up on 4th Avenue in Tucson every spring. They are often referred to as rainbow kids, even if they might not identify themselves as such. They travel in packs.

They wear rather drab clothing; one would think that they had raided a UPS delivery man’s closet.

Sometimes these kids are rough, hard-core panhandlers. Other times they are interesting, ready for conversation. The crew this year seems to be having a good time.

One time there was an encampment on 4th Avenue in Tucson. I overheard a guy calling home on his cell phone. “I’m doing all right. I have some friends who look after me.”

And probably a Greyhound ticket in his pocket.