On a Wednesday, I was entering the Copper Queen Saloon. I was approached by a young man who looked somewhat distraught. He asked whether the day was Thursday. I concurred.
A bit later I wondered too, what day it was. Oops, the day really was Wednesday.
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.
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.
Dad: I didn’t dream about this place all of my life, not to make every stop.
* Canyon de Chelly is in the Navajo Nation
[Unsolicited advice: Don’t waste your money at Four Corners. The physical monuments are much more spectular.]
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.
* Cat’s Eye and Home 20 at one time used to be restaurants that I frequented when I lived in rural Minnesota.
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 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.
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.
Bisbee winters are milder than most of the nation, but when Bisbee-ites see snow there is excitement. Strands of Christmas lights are stretched across main street. Thankfully nobody plays the schlocky Christmas music that is a staple in some of the retail stores.
Many homes have Christmas lights, in some cases these lights are elaborate. Most of the homes take down their lights by the new year.
There is one “strand” of lights that is on during the night all year long. These are the bluish-white lights of the wall between the United States and Mexico. These lights are not a celebration of a season but part of an attempt to keep people from illegally entering the United States.
A young woman walked into the High Desert Market.
Woman: Yesterday I ran into Larry. Are you Larry?
Jerry: No, I am Jerry.
Woman: Oh, I’m going to eat outside.
When Jerry got his sandwich, he walked out to join the woman.
In a few minutes they returned inside.
Woman: I’m surprised that you have mosquitos at this elevation.”
Good luck Jerry.
[In an earlier stage of my life I lived in Barrett, Minnesota.]
Dick and I lived across the street from Al and Gisela. Gisela made some serious cinnamon rolls.
One Friday night a small airplane buzzed us. This was quite unusual since the nearest airport was in Elbow Lake, a town 7 miles north of Barrett.
Gisela had made cinnamon rolls, and invited us over to enjoy her baking. Just as we left our place for their place, we saw the lights of a small plane disappeared behind the trees north of town.
A little later the siren for the volunteer fire department sounded; of course, we had to go see what had happened. The ambulance had already taken the pilot to the Elbow Lake hospital. The firemen were checking the plane and the surrounding area to insure that no fire broke out from the accident.
On Monday Dick and I were told to meet with an FAA official. We were laughing and joking as we walked down to where the official was. The silence and glare of the official convinced us that he only wanted the facts.