As I sit here, the cool breezes waft out of the canyons, raising the window curtains and softly shaking the perfume from the jasmine just outside. My friend Sara told me that Bisbee was paradise in the summer, but having spent my high school and college years in Arizona, I was dubious to say the least. Summer? In Arizona? Paradise? Growing up in the Phoenix area, summer was closer to that other final destination... the really really hot one. But it's true - we have glorious, sunny tennis mornings here, and then, just when the A/C is about to kick in - the perfumed breezes start, and they bring the rain.
Local legends add to the color, too... at my writing class the other day I learned about Marge, the former Phelps-Dodge secretary who was awarded a job as librarian at the Copper Queen Library when the mine closed. She was a cranky old curmudgeon who knew nothing about libraries, hated hippies, and would come knocking on your door in person if you had an overdue book. Luckily for us, Marge finally retired and my lovely friend Donna, of the sweet smile and Library Science degree, has brought the library into the 21st century... book groups, writing classes, kids' programs - all free to us lucky Bisbonians.
Dick's friend Mel came for a visit last week, and we took him on a tour of the mine and other historical venues, while catching up on his latest adventures. The wackiest moment of the week came when he and Dick were accosted during their photo safari to Old Bisbee by two traveling rabbis. These Lubavitcher proselytizers proceeded to give each of the guys a second Bar Mitzvah, right there on the street. Only in Bisbee...maybe the Republicans are right, this IS a dangerous place!
Speaking of dangerous, our tennis friend Naco George (so named because he lives right on the border in Naco, Arizona, just a few miles away) was awakened by a loud, repetitive twanging sound a few nights ago. He looked out his window and discovered that some enterprising Mejicanos were sling-shotting packages of dope across the border, right over his back yard... he went back to bed, hoping this was just a bad dream... when the local gang that couldn't shoot straight came to the rescue, guns blazing, they succeeded only in making noise... the hombres, armed with slingshots, ran giggling off into the night.
Fantasyland? Adventureland? Tomorrowland? Or Frontierland? You decide. I'm having a margarita.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
An All American Celebration!
A celebration is pretty much just what the doctor ordered these days - a cure for what ails us... for the malaise, the fretting over the future, the sinking feeling as we watch economic indicators continue going down, down, down... and yet. And yet, there's so much to celebrate about this country - and the world.
Right smack in the middle of the American Independence Day festivities, we have two international sporting events that lift us up: at Wimbledon, Rafael Nadal once again proves that grace is a physical, mental and spiritual attribute, and the footballers from even the tiniest countries are transcendant in the World Cup, vuvuzelas and all!
Here in our little town of Bisbee, this is one of the biggest weekends of the year. The sense of community, ever present, is even more obvious now. Pride in our history, appreciation of the natural beauty that surrounds us, and joy that comes from our art and our kids - all are featured in the weekend's events.
Our friend Kathy came from the Bay Area to spend the weekend, and from the minute she met us down in Old Bisbee, it was a non-stop Bisbonian adventure. The kids have a Soap Box Derby on the morning of the 4th, so on the 3rd the local art community, not to be out-done, had a showing of "art cars" that were soap box racers of a different stripe (and polka dot, and plaid)... one car shaped like a sardine can, one a cupcake, a Coke can, a statue, a boat... all displayed downtown while serving bratwurst and beer, the first of many potentially lethal but sinfully delicious feasts of the weekend.
On our Saturday hike in Ramsey Canyon, a Nature Conservancy project, we experienced wild turkeys, leopard frogs, trogans and never-ending views. That night, we walked to a baseball game at Warren Stadium - the oldest continuously operating ball park in the U.S. What could be more American? Well, maybe the fact that in addition to watching the Bisbee Copper Kings annihilate their opponents, we got an autograph from Babe Ruth's grand-daughter, who was here to celebrate the 4th, in a park where her grand-dad once played his powerful game.
Sunday's parade included, once again, the soap box derby cars and the Copper Kings, but also the "Peace is Patriotic" ladies - god bless them - Veterans, Boy Scouts, candidates for office, marching bands, floats, and even a special mini-parade of old farm and mining equipment. In the afternoon, we went back to an era when men were men and they all worked in the copper mines - we attended Bisbee's 110th Annual Mucking and Drilling Competition, where the miners demonstrate their skills. As we watched in awe, Big Matt drilled a 13" deep hole in solid rock by pounding a hand drill with a hammer... this is what the drillers used to do all day - drill holes for the dynamite that was used to blast out the rock. To give some perspective on how hard this is, an amateur tried to do it and managed to make a 1/2" hole in the same amount of time.
Our friend Suzi (or Her Grace, as she preferred to be called this weekend) gave a wonderful 4th of July party in her garden, which is just below the hill where the firemen stand to send off the fireworks. We sat in lawn chairs, open-mouthed, staring straight up at the sky until we got stiff necks, watching the bombs bursting in air, ooh-ing and ah-ing on cue - red, white, blue, purple, orange, green, and NOISY! The citizens of the town (including us) raised the money for the fireworks, since the City announced that they were too broke to pony up - and it was so worth it. Since fireworks are legal in our neighboring states of Sonora and New Mexico, many amateur pyromaniacs were at it as well... most of the dogs in town were close to a nervous breakdown by the time it was over. Many people had picnics out in our park, called the Vista, and had been there since morning when they hunkered down for the parade, so by 10 PM the town was on the edge of chaos...
Monday morning, while it seemed the entire town was asleep, we walked through silent Old Bisbee, listening to the ghosts of the tough old miners, madames and ranchers, who seemed to say, "Great party! Now buck up and get back to work... times are hard, but we've seen harder...git goin'!"
Right smack in the middle of the American Independence Day festivities, we have two international sporting events that lift us up: at Wimbledon, Rafael Nadal once again proves that grace is a physical, mental and spiritual attribute, and the footballers from even the tiniest countries are transcendant in the World Cup, vuvuzelas and all!
Here in our little town of Bisbee, this is one of the biggest weekends of the year. The sense of community, ever present, is even more obvious now. Pride in our history, appreciation of the natural beauty that surrounds us, and joy that comes from our art and our kids - all are featured in the weekend's events.
Our friend Kathy came from the Bay Area to spend the weekend, and from the minute she met us down in Old Bisbee, it was a non-stop Bisbonian adventure. The kids have a Soap Box Derby on the morning of the 4th, so on the 3rd the local art community, not to be out-done, had a showing of "art cars" that were soap box racers of a different stripe (and polka dot, and plaid)... one car shaped like a sardine can, one a cupcake, a Coke can, a statue, a boat... all displayed downtown while serving bratwurst and beer, the first of many potentially lethal but sinfully delicious feasts of the weekend.
On our Saturday hike in Ramsey Canyon, a Nature Conservancy project, we experienced wild turkeys, leopard frogs, trogans and never-ending views. That night, we walked to a baseball game at Warren Stadium - the oldest continuously operating ball park in the U.S. What could be more American? Well, maybe the fact that in addition to watching the Bisbee Copper Kings annihilate their opponents, we got an autograph from Babe Ruth's grand-daughter, who was here to celebrate the 4th, in a park where her grand-dad once played his powerful game.
Sunday's parade included, once again, the soap box derby cars and the Copper Kings, but also the "Peace is Patriotic" ladies - god bless them - Veterans, Boy Scouts, candidates for office, marching bands, floats, and even a special mini-parade of old farm and mining equipment. In the afternoon, we went back to an era when men were men and they all worked in the copper mines - we attended Bisbee's 110th Annual Mucking and Drilling Competition, where the miners demonstrate their skills. As we watched in awe, Big Matt drilled a 13" deep hole in solid rock by pounding a hand drill with a hammer... this is what the drillers used to do all day - drill holes for the dynamite that was used to blast out the rock. To give some perspective on how hard this is, an amateur tried to do it and managed to make a 1/2" hole in the same amount of time.
Our friend Suzi (or Her Grace, as she preferred to be called this weekend) gave a wonderful 4th of July party in her garden, which is just below the hill where the firemen stand to send off the fireworks. We sat in lawn chairs, open-mouthed, staring straight up at the sky until we got stiff necks, watching the bombs bursting in air, ooh-ing and ah-ing on cue - red, white, blue, purple, orange, green, and NOISY! The citizens of the town (including us) raised the money for the fireworks, since the City announced that they were too broke to pony up - and it was so worth it. Since fireworks are legal in our neighboring states of Sonora and New Mexico, many amateur pyromaniacs were at it as well... most of the dogs in town were close to a nervous breakdown by the time it was over. Many people had picnics out in our park, called the Vista, and had been there since morning when they hunkered down for the parade, so by 10 PM the town was on the edge of chaos...
Monday morning, while it seemed the entire town was asleep, we walked through silent Old Bisbee, listening to the ghosts of the tough old miners, madames and ranchers, who seemed to say, "Great party! Now buck up and get back to work... times are hard, but we've seen harder...git goin'!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)