Road Trip!!!

Tomorrow Ed and I leave on a road trip to Tucson. We're taking it in two days this time - stopping near Palm Springs for the night. We planned this before Ed hurt his leg and now we're really glad we did!

We love road trips. First of all, you can carry all your shit with you in regular sized bottles and regular hairspray! And a bag o' shoes so we don't have to try to make it on one pair that will fit into a suitcase. We can hang our clothes up in the car, carry both laptops, and food - we can bring food and drink!

When I was a kid, road trips consisted mostly of driving from Tucson to Southern California to do the Disneyland - Knotts Berry Farm - Sea World circuit. Almost every summer. We always left at 4:00am because back in those days we didn't have air conditioning in the car and the rule was that you had to make it to Yuma by 8am, have a quick breakfast, and be back on the road by 8:30. If not you would simply die because Yuma is a thousand degrees in the summer.

I remember so well as a kid my mom would wake us up and toss us in the car in our pajamas. That eliminated the whole ordeal of us getting ready at 4am. We'd be sleeping in the back seat (this was pre-seat belt days) and mom and dad would talk in low voices. I would periodically open my eyes and see all the lights from the truck stops and it made me so happy because I knew that on the other end was California and Disneyland. Mom would always bring a thermos of coffee. When they were ready for a cup, she would open a dishtowel on her lap and pour. It smelled so good and to this day the smell of coffee in the car reminds me of those trips.

We would stop in Yuma for breakfast and then in Pine Valley (which is closer to San Diego) for banana cream pie at the Hobart House. Tradition! We always knew we were close to the ocean because the trees were slanted from the breezes and we would see orange juice and date stands popping up. This was also pre-freeway days so there would be vendors on the side of the road.

Of course, there was the usually chorus of "are we there yet?" followed by "Stop asking! I'll tell you when we get there!!" We'd usually have a picnic lunch at a rest stop and several bathroom stops.

When I grew up and had my own family, we continued the tradition of leaving very early in the morning. It just seemed like the right thing to do. And there's something very special about being far away from your home and watching the sun come up from inside the car. Magical. The kids and I took several trips back to Tucson after we moved to California and many times we would leave as soon as I got home from work and drive all night. That way we could have breakfast with my mom! She loved it and so did we.

I've never outgrown my love of road trips and my daughter is the same. Not sure about my son - I think he's more of an airplane guy. Luckily Ed is a road-trip kinda guy, too. So we're excited. Tucson will be very hot. But who cares. Maybe we'll catch a monsoon or two. And we'll visit with family and enjoy the desert.

On the road again.......

Vacation almost over

Here I sit watching Ed and Babette trying to make a fire (in the fireplace) using a dried up wreath. I thought I'd just stay at the computer and be prepared to douse both of them should the whole thing flare up! Ed got a cut on his arm from the twigs but he has his Neosporin so all is right with the world.

Tomorrow we head home. It's been a great week in Tucson visiting family and friends. Lots of good food, weather is perfect, walks in the desert, and lots of time to relax. Also time to get great gelato at Frost, see three movies, and cruise the neighborhoods we hope to be able to find a house 4 or 5 years from now. Now THIS is what retirement is supposed to be like!

My Tucson Girls

I have a lot of really awesome young women in my family. My daughter, Jenni. My daughter-in-law, Angie. My stepdaughter, Wendy. My sister-in-law, Nicki.

And in Tucson I have three more wonderful young women named Kelly, Lori-Jo, and Traci. These are my stepdaughters from my first marriage and they hold a special place in my heart. I did a post about them awhile back. On our trip to Tucson last week I was able to spend time with two of them - Kelly and Traci - along with their husbands and some of their children. Lori-Jo lives a couple of hours away and wasn't able to join us. But we talked about her so she was there in spirit!!

It's so strange to see them have grown up kids when, in my mind, they are still teenagers themselves! In fact, Traci has a 21-year old son who is soon to be a firefighter in Tucson and is now engaged! In the photo below we have Andy, his fiance Allison, and Kelly's daughters Amy and Anna-Kay. Oh, and that's Ed in the background cleaning up the kitchen!

The place Ed and I stayed had a nice living room and kitchen so I got a couple of take-out family packs at the local chicken place (Pollo Feliz), they brought the desert and beer, and we had a really great time. Lots of talking, laughing. Even though they're not Italian, they have learned the fine art of talking over each other, but somehow knowing exactly what everyone was saying! It's a gift.

The husbands huddled by the unlit fireplace talking about guy things (I guess) or just trying to stay away from the gaggle of yakking going on at our table!

The girls have obviously done a wonderful job raising their kids and have close relationships with them. There are six cousins between the three girls and they are all close to each other and to their parents, aunts and uncles.

So, another definite benefit of our plans to have a second home in Tucson and spend more time there will be to be able to see the girls and their families more. And to be around when they all become mothers-in-law and grandmothers. Although, Kelly told me to bite my tongue on that last comment..... But it will happen and I want to be a part of it.

Love you guys! So lucky to have you in my family.

Road Trip!

On Saturday Ed and I are taking a road trip to Tucson to spend a week visiting with friends and family. I grew up in Tucson, but moved from there to California 22 years ago. For the past three years, we've taken a trip there just to relax - Ed has fallen in love with the place and is even thinking about retiring there.

We'll be heading home on the following Saturday and plan to take the southern route through San Diego. Going there we'll drive on the incredibly boring Hwy 5 and equally boring Hwy 10. And the fact that is will be 100+ degrees will make it even more jolly. We'll pass Palm Springs as it melts in on itself, go through Blythe (or, as my daughter calls it, Blight), then hit Arizona and just keep driving.

But, when I was a kid going to Southern California for the annual Disneyland/Knotts Berry Farm escapade, we always took Hwy 8 from Tucson to San Diego. Which passes through Yuma. Which is why we always started our road trips at 4:00am. No air conditioning in cars back then and word had it that if you didn't get to - and out of - Yuma before 8:00am, you would die in the heat! Not sure if this was true or not, my family never tested it. We'd be in the car by 4:00am. Still dark outside. I remember the truck stop that my dad stopped at to get gas. The lights were so bright and it meant Vacation! So I loved it. There was also a power plant somewhere out there that was all lit up and the only time I saw it was on our way to California. So it also became a beloved icons. My mom would have coffee in a thermos, and pour some for her and Dad after placing a dishtowel carefully on her lap to avoid spills. The smell of coffee in the car early in the morning still warms my heart.

We'd drive through Gila Bend which was a total speed trap. The speed limit signs went from 75 to 35 so fast that you couldn't possibly slow down. And the Rufus-type sheriff would stop you and write the ticket. After a few trips, you learned.

Back then there wasn't a big highway, just 2-lane roads so the trip took several more hours than it does now. I remember we'd be driving along and then, up ahead, we would see a fairly small white sign on top of a wooden post that said "Yuma" with an arrow pointing left. No big green highway signs. No mileage indicators every few miles. When you saw the sign, you turned left. Pretty simple.

Other prime memories from the trip include Pine Valley and the Hobart House. We would always stop there to smell the pine trees and have banana cream pie. Sometimes we would stop at the sand dunes in Yuma if our trip wasn't in the dead of summer. And then there are the hills somewhere near the CA/AZ border that look like huge piles of rocks. Really beautiful. And along the way there were little water supplies for overheated cars. Plus the always horrifying run-away truck ramps. Never saw any of them being used, but they brought all kinds of apocalyptic visions to mind.

Finally we would get to California. Always knew we were close to the ocean because the trees would be leaning a funny way from the breezes. Along the side of the road were stands selling dates, orange juice, and other California goodies. Then you round the bend and there was the ocean! And I knew that Disneyland was only an hour away. Such wonderful memories.

So this trip we'll come back home via the San Diego route. The small roads are gone. No more slamming on the breaks through Gila Bend. But we'll stop in Pine Valley (I think there's an ice cream shop there now) and drive through the piles-of-rocks hills. No more little white sign saying "Yuma". No more date stands or leaning trees. Mostly just freeway. But it will be fun to take a different route back and maybe stroll down memory lane for awhile.

Whoa, when I say Whoa

Last night Ed and I were watching tv and the previews for a some show had the characters in Arizona riding horses.

"Hey," Ed said. "When we buy a second home in Arizona and start spending time there, we can learn to ride horses!"

Cute. Also, not a chance. I proceeded to tell him about my horseback riding experience. My one and ONLY experience, I might add. When I was somewhere between 10 and 12, my family was firmly planted in Tucson and we decided to go horseback riding. I mean, we were living in the Wild West, after all. So my family and my aunt's family headed out to the stables. My mom and aunt were knows as the "purse holders" in the family. That means that they would never partake of any activities, but were happy to sit on a bench holding purses and wallets and bags for everyone else while we did our thing.

So we got (corralled?) five horses - me, my dad, my uncle, and my two male cousins. And off we went. My horse was named Gluefoot. We started trotting along and, even though it was not a comfortable ride, things seemed fine. Then the other four horses started trotting faster (I'm sure there's a horse word for that but I don't know what it is). Old Gluefoot stayed in slow trot mode. Now the rest of the group was slightly ahead of me, then the distance grew. We were in the middle of the desert and they were vanishing from my sight.

I yelled out, "Hey, wait up for me." My cousins taunted me to go faster - apparently not realizing it was the horse who had total control over the situaiton and not me. So I started to cry. "Wait for me!!!" And cry. Finally my dad looked back and said, "Just give the horse a little tap on the side with your foot and he'll go a little faster." So I did. Okay, maybe the tap was a little too hard. I was scared, ya know! Next thing I knew old Gluefoot took off at a gallop (that's a word I remember) and we passed the rest of my family and now I started screaming, "Make him stop! Make him stop!"

The guy from the stables who was riding close to us galloped over to me and stopped the horse. It wasn't anything terribly dramatic, except to my 10-12 year-old mind. By now I was sobbing and just wanted to get off the four-legged monster. So the stable guy guided me and Gluefoot back to the stables where I happily sat on the bench with the purse holders for the rest of the afternoon.

And that, my friends (oh, crap, did I actually just say that?) was the end of my equestrian experiences.

Small town hazard

Parker, AZ is one of those cities you drive through to get someplace else. It's nice enough, but not on my list of places to see before I die. Anyway, we had to drive through there on the way to Tucson earlier this month. We stopped to get lunch and as soon as Ed pulled out of the parking lot into the street, a policeman heading the other direction did a U-turn and pulled us over. Said Ed was speeding. Going 46 in a 35. Not sure how he clocked it since we had barely pulled out into traffic, but there it was. Having seen many episodes of Mayberry, we knew better than to argue. So Ed bravely took out his license, submitted to the interrogation, and signed the form for the ticket. No warnings, here! After all, we were from California!

The choice is to pay the fine (around $110) or to go to traffic school. Heading back to Parker is not exactly on our five-year plan, so Ed decided to just pay the ticket. Then he talked to his insurance guy and found out that, while this ticket won't increase his insurance, a second one anytime soon might. Ed doesn't get speeding tickets (well, except for that one time when it was very early in the morning, he was the only one on the bridge, and he figured no CHP would be up that early), but now with this pressure, he was almost afraid to drive!

Last week he called someone in Arizona to find out whether they had anything online he could do. And they did. So today is the day he started a four hour online course followed by a test that you have to take in front of a Notary! They don't mess around in AZ.

Ed got on the computer first thing this morning. The test is set up so you can't skip any steps - they make sure it takes you the whole four hours. And, to ensure that you are the person actually sitting in front of the computer, they have a series of "security" questions that pop up periodically and randomly. You are given a very short time to answer them. The answers are based on a list of questions you have to fill in before you start. Once you're logged in, you have to continue until a breaking spot. Then you must log out. Peeing must be carefully scheduled. The tension was mounting.

I was sitting at my computer so I could hear the whole thing. Ed talks back to the computer a lot. When he started out he was totally frazzled. I made the mistake of trying to say something to him at one point and he said, "Don't talk to me right now, I have to concentrate!" So that meant no music, no banter, and definitely no websites that have sound. Now he was starting to wiggle around on his chair, and rocking back and forth like he does when he's stressed. Suddenly one of ths security questions popped up and he freaked! Forgot all his answers! I was afraid that I was going to have to squirt him with cold water or something but he finally calmed down and moved on. I kept hearing things like: "Shit, another security question" or "Damn it, they don't give you enough time to answer" or "I'm logging out for a bit so I can breathe." It's good that I've learned to laugh silently.

Then he started printing. Pages of paper. All the questions that he could print. I think he has one ream done so far and is only 1 1/2 hours into the program. But since his middle name is OCD, this is typical.

I just hope he passes the test! I think he only has 7 days from the time he starts the program until he finishes and takes the test. Since we're leaving town next Wednesday for a long weekend, that gives him four days. Don't know if he's considered that but I guarantee I'm not going to be the one to tell him. Oh, no.

And I really must refrain from saying "Too bad you weren't driving slower, eh." That's just not nice.

Five years from now

I promise, this will be the last Tucson post! But there's one more piece to the week.

Ed had visited Tucson a few years before we met and thought it was a god-forsaken place. All that cactus and everything so dry looking. Then after we got together, we would go visit my dad and even bought a little garden condo for him to live in. Ed started seeing the beauty of the desert and liking it more. We even enjoyed a few thunderstorms.

Last year we took a trip out there in July with my kids and their families. Had a great time and Ed really got into the whole desert and "old west" thing, enjoyed our trip down memory lane, and had the incredible Arizona thunderstorm experience.

After our most recent trip, he's ready to move there! We stayed in the same resort we had stayed in in 2007. Took walks in the morning in the desert. Had dinner outside almost every night. We have family there, friends there, and the whole feeling is more relaxed than California. And it's the home of Couch Rock. That is totally not the name of the rock below, but when I was 10 and we first moved there, I thought it looked like a couch so that's what I named it in my head. It's my icon of Tucson. You can only see it on the West side of town, and seeing it always calms my soul.

This is a plan for five years down the road - after Ed is done working and ready to collect his Social Security. But it's a fun plan and one we're both excited about. We won't be moving there full time, the plan is to buy a condo and split our time between Tucson and California. We can't just leave the kids and grandkids behind!

So our road trip to Tucson - which was primarily for the purpose of seeing my aunt and getting my mom's hope chest for my daughter - turned out to be a life-changing vacation. We had no definitive plans for our retirement - now we do. And I, for one, am excited about it!

And now, back to Tucson

My family moved to Tucson when I was 10 years old and, except for a couple of years in Denver right after my kids were born, I lived there for 30 years. That's where I grew up, got married, had my kids. It's where my grandparents lived and died, where my mother died, and where many of my aunts and uncles lived. It was home.

Now I've been gone for 21 years and when I go back, so much has changed. I still remember where places from my history are, but so much is new. So many places I grew up with have been torn down. Know what really makes you feel old? Remembering a "modern" building going up, only to now see the empty lot because it was "old and falling apart." I mean, what does that say about me!!!!

This last trip we drove past my grandmother's and great grand-mother's houses. Lots of nostalgia, lots of sadness. The photo below is my grandparent's house. It was a few blocks from the University of Arizona and such a charming neighborhood at the time. Now it's been stuccoed, all the front yard is gone, and there is a wall around the property. The little building to the left is a little one-bedroom apartment where I lived with my girlfriend when we were in college.


Here is the house I remember! The front yard was a family gathering spot. We sat there every Fourth of July and watched the U of A fireworks display. We had Easter Egg hunts on the lawn. It's where my grandparents had their marijuana garden. It's where we had all our big family dinners. The yard had orange trees, loquat trees, even a pomegranate tree. Now it has gravel. My grandparents were so proud of their house and yard. I have so many photos of family members visiting from Chicago and standing by an orange tree - usually with a cowboy hat on.

Here are my grandmother and grandfather enjoying their front yard.

How I miss them and those days. Surrounded by family, greasy Italian food, lots of laughter, and the feeling of Tucson in the late 1950's and early 1960's. My great-grandmother lived less than a mile away from my grandparents. She also lived one block from the school where I went to 5th grade so I would go over to her house often. Grandma was the quintessential old Italian woman. 4' 10" on a good day, constantly wearing an apron, gray hair in a bun, nylons rolled down to just below her knees, that one gold tooth that seems to be mandatory in old Italian women, and an accent so thick you had to really concentrate to understand her. Here is Grandma and this is her house today. The front section used to be a porch. There was a little wire fence around the front yard and a small gate that we would go through.

This is where we would go every Christmas Eve to see her Nativity display and be with family. As you can see, this is a very small house. But there would usually be 50 or so people inside! Many smoking, all laughing and talking, and, of course (we are Italian, after all) everyone eating. The back yard was almost as big as the house. There was also a little guest studio in the back. Grandma has an amazing garden, fed daily by coffee grounds and egg shells. And we would have lots of family picnics in her yard. I'm so glad to have these wonderful memories. I'm sad that almost everyone in these photos is gone. I wish my kids could have known my grandparents and great-grandmother - and Tucson in the "old days." They would have loved every minute of it. Hopefully we're creating good memories for them that someday will be their "good old days."

Dust Devils and Tacos

If you have ever lived in the dessert or visited for any length of time, you have seen dust devils. They are these cool little dust tornadoes that glide across the dessert, occassionally crossing the road. This usually happens when you're not paying attention and the windows are down and you wind up with your car, mouth and eyes full of dirt.

For me dust devils always conjure up a special memory. I moved to Tucson when I was 10 so my first class was 5th grade. We were out of the playground eating lunch. I had the ubiquitous paper sack with the traditional boloney sandwich, banana, and cookies. I put the sack on the ground to take a sip of milk when someone said "Look, there's a dust devil - it's a big one." And it was coming our way. I had never seen one before so I stared in awe. I noticed the other kids either moving or grabbing their stuff. But I didn't know why. Suddenly it came right toward me, blew up my dress (girls weren't allowed to wear pants to school in the 50's) and scooped up my lunch sack. I looked up and there was a slice of baloney, a piece of lettuce and two mustard-laden pieces of bread flying around like something out of the Wizard of Oz. The banana fell to earth rapidly as did the cookies. But the sandwich took flight.

Then I heard the snickers. The new kid lost her lunch and was covered in dirt. Oh, great. Off to a really good start. I think this was the same week that I was outed by one of the little Mexican kids in my class when I admitted that I didn't know what a taco was. They truly thought I was an alien.

But I love dust devils. They are graceful but strong, and always remind me of the adventure of moving to Tucson. And I now know to move out of the way and grab my belongings.

Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt

When we were in London in April, Ed heard about the London Bridge being bought and rebuilt in Lake Havasu, AZ. So we decided to make a loop through Lake Havasu on our way from Laughlin down to Tucson. Turns out it isn't really a lake, but more like a bulge in the Colorado River. So on either end of the lake, you can continue on up or down the river. Pretty cool, actually. As for the bridge, well, A - it wasn't "falling down". So much for all those days singing that song and so much for "my fair lady-o". It was standing up quite nicely, thank you very much. The bridge was dismantled in London, shipped to the US, and re-built at Lake Havasu. I was living in Tucson when it was dedicated in 1971 and it was quite the hoopla. There is a little park at the entrance to the bridge area that has little replicas of Big Ben, a pub, a castle, etc. all squished into a very small area. 30 years later things are looking a bit tired. However, there was an ice cream parlor in the small row of shops so that was good.

Now we can check the London Bridge off our list of places we must visit before we die. Okay, it wasn't every actually on that list, but we quickly added it so we could check it off and it would look like we were making progress!

The rest of the drive down to Tucson was pretty uneventful. Oh, there was some lively discussion when we reached Buckeye and had to decide if we wanted to take the Buckeye cutoff to Hwy 8, or just remain on Hwy 10 and go through Phoenix. This discussion involved counting all the little black numbers between the arrows on the map, checking the Garmin for mileage and time, a debate on the risks vs. benefits of the Phoenix freeways, and stopping for a fat-free, no sugar added Dairy Queen fudgsicle. Buckeye won.

On the last stretch to Tucson there is an Ostrich Farm. I don't know about you, but I woundl't normally put the words Ostrich and Arizona in the same sentence. The first time I saw this place, I thought someone had spiked my coffee. But it's real. One of these days we want to stop and visit (no it's not on the "list"), it's just that by the time we reach the farm we're so close to Tucson that it's hard to stop.

Then we come to Picacho Peak. Driving to Tucson, you can begin seeing this peak about 100 miles or before you hit the city limits. When I was a kid and we would take road trips, seeing Picacho on the way out of town meant we were going on vacation (usually to Disneyland and Knotts Berry Farm), seeing it in the distance on the way back meant we were almost home. And that's the feeling I had last week spotting the peak. Almost home.

In the 1800's there was a minor Civil War battle at Picacho Peak and they honor that each year with a re-enactment. There is also a lovely couple of weeks when all the wildflowers bloom. When the kids were 7 or 8, we went up there during wildflower season with my best friend, Linda, and her two kids. My mom also came along. At one point we were walking up the path which had a bit of an incline. My son said, "Boy, this would be a hard walk for an old person." Mom said, "And just what do you consider old?" My son (always the diplomat - even at a young age) said, "Oh, grandma, they would have to be a lot older than you!"

A short while later my son got too close to a jumping cactus and it embedded itself in his shoe. After I took a picture of it, we all had to work to gingerly remove it without getting too many stickers in our hands. Ah, the joys of the desert.


We finally pulled into Tucson around 4pm on Sunday, got checked in, walked a bit in the desert, and headed out for dinner. It felt good to be out of the car for awhile! And to be surrounded by so many memories.

NOTE: I find that I often type dessert instead of desert. Please know that we are NOT walking through a hot fudge sundae or a creme brulee. There aren't any thorns in most apple pies. And spell check doesn't always work! I appreciate your understanding...........

Tidbits from Highway 5

A week ago Saturday Ed and I headed out on a road trip to Tucson. Our prime objective was to retrieve my mother's cedar chest from my sister's house and bring it back here for my daughter. Hence, the road trip. It was actually a great week and we'll probably do it again in a year or so.

Driving from Northern California to Tucson means Hwy 5 - which is probably the most boring highway imaginable. It's faster, true. But oh so boring. So you have to find little things to entertain you along the way.

Like trying to decide if the next gas station will have cheaper gas. For those of you who don't live in California, "cheaper" means anything below $4.50 a gallon! And, of course, the gas station we came to immediately after filling up always had cheaper gas. We passed several large RVs towing cars and you could almost see the tears streaming down the driver's faces. There must be hope on the horizon, though, because we saw oil derricks in the middle of vineyards.

And did you know that there is actually a 20 Mule Team Road in California? It's where they mine borax which is one of the ingredients in 20 Mule Team Borax Soap. I had no idea. But that was the highlight of our visit to one of the Rest Areas.

At one gas station, Ed went in to buy something so I moved the car from the pump to the parking area. He has a Lexus hybrid SUV and, being a short person, I had to make some adjustments to get to the parking space. Like move the seat up and forward, move the rear-view mirror, move the side mirrors. We paid for the gas and got back in the car - at least Ed tried to get in but banged his knee on the steering wheel because the seat was too close for him. I got the "dang short people" glare as he moved the seat back a bit. When he finally sat down, he noticed everything a bit out of whack. Now this car has these little buttons which supposedly remember each person's settings for the seat, etc. Ed pushed the little number 1 button. The seat started to go back and he looked at me with his "isn't this cool" look. Until the seat kept going back AND decided to recline. Now he's practically flat on his back on the seat and I, of course, am laughing and saying "Wow, what a great feature!!". He grumbled something, put the back of the seat back in place, moved forward a bit, adjusted the mirrors, and then decided to try the little number 1 button again for some odd reason. There he went, seat flowing back, now going into recline position. There's no way to stop it mid-way so he just said, "oh, shit" and let it go. I sat there munching on pretzels watching the show.

We decided to break the trip up and spent the first night in Laughlin which was a lot of fun. A little gambling, a nice walk along the river, a nice dinner at Joe's Crab Shack and then we hit the road the next morning. In the morning, I was in the shower and Ed came into the bathroom. I mentioned something about my hair and the soft water and he said, "Speaking of hair - oh, yeah, I found some." Turns out he was looking for the sunscreen to put on his head, but I couldn't see him and had no idea what he was looking for. And since he's pretty bald on top and quite paranoid about it, the whole thing sounded pretty funny. Well, at least to me - he couldn't see the humor in it.

Next

• Day 2 and the London Bridge
• Ed's dad
• Dust devils
• So many memories
• Missing the dessert

Cactus, Mountains, Friends, Family - Home

I just came home tonight from spending a three-day weekend in Tucson with my good friend, Babette. She and I go back a long way (to the late 1960's), had lost touch for awhile, but now try to visit every year or so. And we had a great time. Drank wine, hung out, laughed a lot. All good things.

Back in the late 60's the cool thing to do was wear a piece of yarn in your hair that matched your outfit. And we were nothing if not cool! Yes, we've aged - but we still have our cool moments. The photo below is at my 60th birthday party. Babette came up from Tucson to join in the surprise.

We had a great time this weekend and I saw many parts of Tucson that were new to me. The city has really grown up. Since my dad moved from Tucson to Chicago in 2002, I had only been back twice. But I think that will change now and I look forward to more frequent visits. It's still my "home" and there is a different feeling there - something safe and solid. The mountains are still incredible and the desert is still beautiful. My history is there, I still have family there, and Babette is there.

I find the older I get, the more I cling to those friends who knew me in the "old days", who share portions of my history with me, who know the changes I've gone through.

And then there suddenly appeared before me.....

Last night Ed and I went to see Guys and Dolls in San Jose and decided to make it a real "date" night and try a new restaurant in the area. It was a hit! Great food, nice atmosphere, and wonderful service. Plus there was a husband-wife team who played piano and sang - mostly old standards. Very enjoyable.

Of course, it reminded me of an episode when I was growing up. There was a restaurant near our house in Tucson called The Bistro. Very nice white tablecloth place. My parents loved to eat out and we went out as a family often. This particular evening was one of my teen birthdays so they got a babysitter for my sister and Mom and Dad took me to a fancy place. I don't think I even spilled anything on the white tablecloth!

For our musical enjoyment, the restaurant had a roving accordian player. Not sure what they were thinking when they did this - it wasn't even an Italian restaurant. Now accordians did have a place in my family. My cousins both had to take accordian lessons when they were young. Yes, we were true Italians! My cousin, Ken, was a one-hit wonder with his rousing rendition of Mona Lisa. We were living in Dayton, Ohio at the time and Ken and his family were in Chicago. He and I were somewhere between 7 and 10 at the time. My aunt would call us from Chicago - long distance - so we could hear Ken play Mona Lisa and his younger brother play Cielito Lindo (which is a Mexican song so, again, I have no clue). As they got better at their "songs" we would get phone calls with updated recitals. It's still a bit of a family joke.

But, back to The Bistro. So, here was this guy, slightly disheveled, overweight, Buddy Holly glasses, sweating, playing his heart out with this 200 lb accordian hanging from his neck walking through the restaurant. The first song he played was Blue Moon. Now, this was a good thing because it's one of the three songs that my dad and I would play in tandem on our piano. So we enjoyed it. Then the accordian player stopped at the table next to us and asked if they had a request. They did. But he said, "Oh, sorry, I don't know that one." And again broke into another rendition of Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone.....

Came to our table, asked for a request, we gave him a song title which, surprisingly, he said he didn't know! Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for.........

This happened at several more tables until everyone was becoming either amused or annoyed - probably depending on how much wine had been drunk.

And still the chords came through: Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone.....

Note to restaurant owners: a) don't hire accordian players, b) ban Blue Moon, c) check the repetoire

Tucson

This past weekend my kids and I, along with their families, (and, of course, Gnorbert the Gnome) visited Tucson. The three of us haven't been back there together in at least four years so it was a special trip. In spite of the "ohmigod" heat, we had a great time. All 10 of us stayed in a 2 bedroom condo close to the foothills. We took walks in the desert and also managed to hit a couple of Tucson tourist attractions like the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum, Saguaro National Monument, and Pinnacle Peak Restaurant in Trail Dust Town. One of the highlights of the vacation was our "trip down memory lane" as my kids called it. They wanted to show their spouses and kids where they grew up.

The first stop was the house my ex-husband and I bought two years before the kids were born, and where we lived until they were one year old. Of course, the kids don't remember it, but I sure do. How excited we were with our first house! Planning the landscaping, the rock wall and fountain we built in the back, our Palo Verde tree. So many memories of the kids crawling around in that kitchen, playing on the front porch, looking out the front window. The house where you have your babies is always a special place. We bought the house in the early 70's and hung beads in the front arch windows. Those beads are still there! 35 years later! The current owner was on the front porch so I decided to go up and let him know why these three carloads of people were stopping in front of his house. He said, "Are you Sandi?" I was a bit shocked that he knew my name, but it turns out that he is the man who bought the house from us. He even took a picture of me in front of the house to show his wife.

The sad thing is that the place was a shambles. Front yard overgrown, dead plants everywhere, an old car up on blocks in the side yard. In fact the whole street looked so tired and neglected.

Our next stop was the apartment complex where the kids and I lived for many years. Again, the place is so run down and there is now a wall along the whole front. But we did managed to walk through Ft. Lowell Park which was across the street and show everyone where my kids used to have a fort, and some of the places they hung out (most of these I didn't know about and that's probably a good thing!).

There were so many memories brought to life through the weekend. Stores where I used to shop, the area where my mom lived, my schools and my kids' schools, familiar streets, and streets that were no longer familiar, our favorite restaurants.

On Saturday night we had a wonderfully fun dinner with the whole family - aunts, cousins, siblings, grandkids - practically everyone who is left in Tucson. Being with my family has always been important to me and these types of events are few and far between.

But leaving Tucson on Monday I felt a great sadness - my history was there, some of the happiest years of my life were there, but my mom and dad aren't there anymore, my brother is in Chicago, my grandparents are gone. So much has changed. So much time has gone by. I feel like a visitor who barely knows her way around. It's home, but doesn't really feel like home anymore. I felt like I was in a limbo state - between my old life and my current one. How I wish I could go back to the days when Tucson was a quiet Western town - like it was when I was a kid, only go back as an adult to be able to really appreciate it. To truly enjoy my grandparents and appreciate the stories they had to tell. How I wish I could spend one more day with my Mom just hanging out or shopping. We always laughed so much when we were together and she kept me centered.

But I can't. Those days are gone. It seems like every time I go back there the "old days" are more faded and harder to grasp. And at times I want so desperately to be able to grab them and hold on for just a little while. I guess that's all part of getting older - the feeling that you want to go back in time and just be able to bask in the feelings and the people that are no longer here.

We're all home now and soon these feelings of being a little displaced will also fade. And someday my kids and grandkids will look back on these days as the "good old days" they wish they could recapture!

No, really, it was self defense!!

My daughter, Jenni, reminded me of another bug story that is permanently etched in our family memory. In Tucson, when it's hot (which is 9 months out of the year...) we have a lovely little visitor that we call a Sewer Roach, also called the American Roach. They are big - up to 2 inches - ugly, stubborn, and virtually unkillable. As anyone from Arizona knows, if you smack one with the bottom of your shoe, all you end up with is a pissed off roach! They come up through the drains so we all learn very quickly to NEVER leave a drain uncovered. To this day, I can't bear to see an uncovered drain in sink or bathtub. Also, a generous sprinkling of Borax helps.

Well, one day my friend Linda knocked frantically on my door. When I opened it, she has this rather horrified look on her face.

Me: What's wrong?

Linda: ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!!

Me: Are you okay?

Linda: The grossest thing just happened. I was taking out the toaster to make breakfast for the kids. In the bottom of the toaster there was a sewer roach. So I plugged the toaster in, and pushed the handle down!

Me: What happened?

Linda: I don't know - I heard sizzling and I was afraid to look!

So we trotted back to her apartment, unplugged the toaster, and ran back to the alley to deposit the whole thing in the dumpster. Never did look inside. Went back to my place, covered all the drains (you know, in case his relatives came a-lookin' for him), and tried not to think about how stupid we must have looked!

Giddyup!!

I grew up in Tucson. My family was all from Chicago, but we migrated West . And, once the first batch got here, the rest loved to come visit! For some reason, when someone from Chicago visited Tucson (at least back in the 50's), they had to become a cowboy! Yup, it was a tradition.

My Uncle Tommy had quite the swagger and my Uncle Joe had the ever-present cigarette.

This is my Dad and Uncle Joe. Not sure why dad thought that doofus hat looked like a cowboy hat!! But he thought he was cool!
And doesn't my grandmother look thrilled to have her son (my dad) holding a gun on her?!?!? Funny thing is, I don't remember anyone in my family ever even having a gun (except the occassional BB gun), and certainly NONE of them ever rode a horse!! But, hey, this was the Wild West!! Palm Trees, dessert plants, mountains, hot dry days, wooden sidewalks, hitching posts, real Indians, and, yes, back then some of the citizens of Tucson still wore spurs.

Of course, if you wanted to be on the "other" side of Cowboys & Indians, you could always find an authentic Native American and pretend to be a relative - like my two cousins in this photo! Or just take a picture with one - like me, great-grandma, and Aunt Fanny. All right, so the whole family was a bit dorky. But we didn't know it at the time!!

Go West Young Man

The other day the temperature in in Chicago was ONE!!! Granted, it was 1+, but it was still ONE! As one of my office mates said, why even bother measuring it if it's that low!! And yesterday my dad called to say it was snowing - huge flakes - and the wind was blowing so the snow was sticking to the sides of buildings, trees, etc. From his nursing home window, it looked beautiful. From the front seat of my brother's car, as he's trying to get his three kids to school, the "view" is mostly unprintable.

I, on the other hand, am watching my garden bloom!

At the end of this month, it will be the 20th anniversary of my move from Tucson to California. Definitely the longest I've ever lived in one place. I did live in Tucson for a total of 30 years, but that was with a couple of short moves thrown in the mix. My family was originally from Chicago - straight from Italy via Ellis Island to Chicago. Grandma (my great grandmother) and Papa Jim (my maternal grandfather) were the most "Italian" of the group - heavy accents, very traditional. Grandma had 16 kids with three husbands (three sets of twins in a row!!). Her youngest son, John, decided to venture out West to a place called Arizona. First one in the family to leave the Chicago nest. When he didn't return after several weeks, Grandma became worried and decided to go to Arizona tolook for him. When she got to Tucson, it reminded her so much of the village she came from in Italy that she didn't want to go back to Chicago. After another few weeks, Nana Gene (my grandmother) told Papa Jim to go to Arizona and bring her mother back!! So Papa Jim made the trek West.

Well, it turns out he was from the same village in Italy so he, too, decided to stay. And in 1954 my grandmother finally moved to Tucson to join her mother and husband. Eventually most of Grandma's children moved West - although only nine of the 16 survived to adulthood. But, of those nine, seven wound up either in Arizona or even further west in Southern California.

Growing up in Tucson, I always felt so short-changed because we didn't have four real seasons - okay we did have one week of Spring in March, but never had a White Christmas. My parents would love to call their relatives in Chicago on Christmas Day and say, "Yeah, we're sitting outside in short-sleeved shirts." That would make me sad - singing Jingle Bells in 80 degrees just never worked for me!

But now, when I talk with my dad and brother and hear their stories about their Midwest winters, I figure maybe Grandma knew what she was doing blazing the trail for all of us.

Grazie, Grandma!