Making a List

Linda Burton posting from Phoenix, Arizona — Making a list and checking it twice; so many choices. Tomorrow I’m starting on Central Avenue, the route of the train. The Valley Metro light rail, that is. The station is a block away, the fare for a ride is $.85 for a senior (I can get a 7-day pass too). I’ll buy my ticket from a machine right there at the station via credit card (remember the Olden Days when you had to have tokens for public transportation?). According to the online Route Planner, I will reduce carbon emissions by 0.748 lbs by riding the train. If I drove my car I would burn 1.109 lbs of CO2. Not to mention what I’d spend for gas and parking!

Check it out. Valley Metro Light rail. http://www.valleymetro.org/

It will take me four minutes to get to the Heard Museum at 2301 N Central. http://www.heard.org/

I’ll tell about my visit in another post; two things I’m interested in are an exhibit on Native American Bolo Ties (Arizona’s official state neckwear), and Beyond Geronimo: The Apache Experience, which presents a more accurate view of this celebrated personality than the sensationalized stories that have circulated for years.

The Phoenix Art Museum, also on N Central at 1625, http://www.phxart.org/ has an exhibit entitled “Frank Lloyd Wright: Organic Architecture for the 21st Century.” Wright’s architecture focused on the concepts of energy, materials, climate, transportation, and urban planning.  It’s also on my list.

So many choices.

Palms, Protests and Politics

Linda Burton posting from Phoenix, Arizona — Palm trees line Central Avenue. Keep going south to downtown, Washington Street, turn right, go to 17th, park free for two hours, walk across the street to the State Capitol Museum. It’s not overly fancy but it’s pretty; all the materials to build it came from nearby when it was constructed back in 1900.

They’ve added new buildings since; the governor and secretary of state have offices adjoining; the Senate and House chambers are now on either side of the copper-domed original.  It’s a peaceful sight, green lawns punctuated with native plants in graveled beds; an aging cactus propped in place.Today a line formed by a festive tent; corn dogs and fresh-squeezed lemonade served to legislators and invited capitol staff; hosted by the Arizona Optometry Association; it was Optometry Day at the Capitol. The AOA is pushing for passage of SB1224 which would require insurance provider panels to include optometrists if they provide medical eye services.

In other ways of speaking up, the TV evening news showed students sitting in the street in front of Trevor Browne High School; parents and friends watched nearby as police lined the curb.  The group chanted “Undocumented and unafraid,” protesting the immigration policies of Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio. “We’re tired of living in the shadows,” said a young woman who has been in the United States since she was a year old. “I know no other country. We’ll go to jail if that’s what it takes.” Six students were arrested and are expected to be charged with disorderly conduct and obstructing a thoroughfare. 

Also reported, former Senator Russell Pearce has joined the race for the state Senate seat in the new Legislative District 25. Pearce was the first legislator in state history to be recalled when voters ousted him in November, losing to challenger Jerry Lewis in Mesa’s District 18. Pearce came under fire for his views on illegal immigration. He was author of the state’s controversial immigration enforcement bill.

Last Day of Winter in the Valley of the Sun

Linda Burton posting from Phoenix, Arizona — The news is in the numbers.

56 inches at Snowbowl, what a gift! Going out with a flounce, Old Man Winter zapped northern Arizona with a 1-2 punch. Snow Sunday. Snow Monday. Kids out of school. Snowplows out on the road. Snowboards out on the slopes. Boom for business. 29 inches of snow at Flagstaff. I-40 was closed for a while, open now, with slush.

56 degrees was the high today in Phoenix. Normal? 70’s. After all, this is the Valley of the Sun. This is the Season. This is where people come to get away from the cold! But the TV weather-persons were raving about today’s good fortune. Water here, after 90 days with no rain. Precious water.

Spring is official at 10:14 PM today, and the promise of “nearly 90 degrees” by Friday is laid before us. Meanwhile, a hummingbird tried to fly in my window as the cats napped in the afternoon sun, startling the two of them. Just beyond, against the Phoenix skyline, a helicopter rounded the high-rise, headed for the station with footage of Ponderosa pines to the north, branches weighted down with white.

Other news today. Continuing speculation on the why’s of the shootings. 16 civilians, mostly women and children,  shot in Afghanistan by a US soldier. 2 little boys in Phoenix shot by their father, who then shot himself. 1 young man shot by another in Florida.

Ron Barber, Gabby Giffords’ long-time aide, announced in Tucson he will run for a full term in Congress this year. He was shot 2 times in the January 2011 assassination attempt on Giffords, who has vacated her senate seat to focus on her recovery, miraculously surviving a gunshot wound to the head. 13 people were injured and 6 killed in that incident, including a 9-year old girl.

Frying Pan or Fire

Linda Burton posting from Phoenix, Arizona — The Little Pigs Wolf came out of the fairy tale to huff and puff and howl all night, wind screaming through the cracks around the door. It was cold and the air was restless and fearful. Alex Cat took refuge in a dresser drawer; Jack Cat burrowed under the covers beside me. I did not sleep. A weather front was coming through, sweeping in from California, threatening Arizona with vicious winds, pounding rain, and if you were above two thousand feet, snow. Sierra Vista sits at 4,200 feet, Tucson 2,500. This was scheduled as a driving day, the reservation in place for Phoenix tonight. Last night I’d decided to delay, to wait for the weather to clear, to stay off the roads and sit safely in my room. But the relentless noise had turned me into a bundle of nerves. I asked myself: is the fire really worse than the frying pan? There is equal misery in either one. What to do? Outside, it wasn’t raining yet, but trees were bending sideways in the wind. I chose fire. In 30 minutes we were in the car. » read more

St Paddy’s with the Red White and Blue

Linda Burton posting from Sierra Vista, Arizona while traveling from Austin, Texas to Phoenix, Arizona — I have a grandson in the US Army. Brett is tall, good-looking, smart, and someone you’d be proud to know. He’s adapted well to Army life; is excited about the opportunities ahead. He did his basic at Fort Jackson in South Carolina, and now is posted to Fort Huachuca in southern Arizona for most of this year. I detoured my Austin-to-Phoenix route to pay him a visit.

Fort Huachuca is home of the U.S. Army Intelligence Center and the U.S. Army Network Enterprise Technology Command (NETCOM)/9th Army Signal Command. It’s also the headquarters of the Military Affiliate Radio System (MARS), the Joint Interoperability Test Command (JITC), and the Electronic Proving Ground (EPG).

Sounds confidential, and it is. Brett already has “a bunch of” security clearances, and couldn’t tell me much about the things he’s learning there. The base is 15 miles north of the Mexican border, adjacent to the town of Sierra Vista, at the foot of the Huachuca Mountains. “Huachuca” comes from an obscure Indian language describing a “place of thunder.” There was a light dusting of snow still visible on the north side of the mountains when I arrived. The winds were strong and more snow was, maybe, on the way.

I picked up Brett at his “dorm” – he shares a room, it’s much like college life, he said. He showed me his classrooms, the family housing where some of his friends live, the on-base elementary school, the ball fields and batting cages, the commissary, even the dental office. It’s self-contained and neat, pretty in its sparseness. And though it is miles and miles from most of the world, it’s not too far from I-HOP, Texas Roadhouse, the Cineplex, and Sierra Vista’s mall.

A stop by my room to visit the cats (Brett gave Jack to me when he was so tiny he fit in our hands, the only male of Cleo’s litter), then we celebrated St Paddy’s Day with Roadhouse steaks. After-dinner shopping at the mall resulted in a suit, a handsome pin-stripe gray, blue shirt to set it off, not for any special occasion but because, Brett said, “Sometimes you just want to look nice.”

Brett pointed out the Buffalo Soldiers on a sign, telling me a little of the history of the Fort. A product of the Indian Wars of the 1870s and 1880s, the site was selected because it had fresh running water, an abundance of trees, excellent observation in three directions, and protective high ground for security against Apache tactical methods.

Camp Huachuca was redesignated a fort in 1882. It was a supply base for the Geronimo campaign, retained after his surrender because of continuing border troubles. In 1913, the 10th Cavalry “Buffalo Soldiers” arrived, joining General John J. Pershing in the 1916 expedition into Mexico. During World War I, it was assigned the mission of guarding the United-States-Mexico border. Today, its training and purpose focus on borders stretching all around the world.

Lots more on the interesting history of Fort Huachuca and its mission today, read at http://www.huachuca.army.mil/site/Visitor/index.asp?pages=History

Times Three

Linda Burton posting from Sierra Vista, Arizona while traveling from Austin, Texas to Phoenix, Arizona— I wake up on Central Daylight Time. Bright sun shadows the face of the Sierra Diablos across the street. The car is loaded by 7:23; I see I’m almost out of gas. One stop, and then we’re on the road. An elevation climb, my ears can feel the pressure change, we’re going through a pass. A sign announces “Mountain Time.” I’ve gained an hour. But I’m still in Texas, will be for a long, long while. The limit is 80 mph, I do not hesitate, I fly.

The Eagle Mountains to my left, the Quitman’s too; the Finlay’s to my right. Peaks are 7,000 feet, wide valleys flatten out between. The GPS begins to show a darkened spot, a thick line very near the little car that mimics me. I stop and check the map; yes, Mexico is just there to my left, I know the Rio Grande is flowing there, the border mark.

Traffic thickens, El Paso drawing near, with Juarez on the other side, a troubled city, always in the news. Murder Capital of the World, they say. I need more gas, but everything is tense, so many lanes, so many curves, I wait, to come out on the other side. A break somewhere past the UTEP sign, a gorgeous mall, set high up in the hills. I’ve been driving for a long, long time.

And then I’m in New Mexico. The pavement changes, smooth, the lanes are wide, a sign assures you of a safety zone. Enchanted land, brilliant color, yellow flowers blooming in white sands. The Continental Divide! I stop to get a picture, close, I was here so many years ago, when kids were young. Now I have cats. Jack yawns in boredom, a wild-eyed panther look. “We’re really in the west,” I say, “where you were born.” There is nothing anywhere but souvenirs; gas is 20 miles ahead, they say. Los Cruces is a US Customs stop; the Border Dog doesn’t sniff my car.

Keep driving. Arizona next. The road looks old, worn out. I gain another hour. No sign announces, but I know, Arizona doesn’t favor Daylight time. Three time zones in one day for me. The headwind pushes back against the car; the freeway signs flash “Dust storms just ahead, pull off the road when you can’t see.” In the distance I see swirls, I am gone before they get to me.

I’m tired. I want to stop. Nature take some pity then, rewards me with its awesome sights; Texas Canyon has huge boulders like I’ve never seen. I know that I can make it now, and sure enough, the sign appears where I’m supposed to turn. I’m headed southward now, where family waits for me.

All’s well, except I’m not quite sure what time it is.

By The Time I Get To Phoenix

Linda Burton posting from Van Horn, Texas while traveling from Austin, Texas to Phoenix, Arizona – Streets and Trips tells me Phoenix is 1099.7 miles away. The next capital city, the longest drive of the entire Journey Across America, and I’m not even packed. Glen Campbell’s song floats in my head, I’m sorry that I have to miss his show at Austin Rodeo this weekend, his farewell tour. http://www.rodeoaustin.com/

But it’s time to go. Goodbye Austin, your live oak trees, your live music everywhere, your barbecue; goodbye good-time place. The clock says past 11 before we’re on our way, with half of Texas to cross before tonight. I skirt the city, loop through the suburban hills, the cedar trees and limestone cuts; finally hit the road to Fredericksburg.

I had a birthday there in 1999, ate at Mamacita’s, http://www.mamacitas.com/fredericksburg.html where waitstaff sang to me in big sombrero hats. No time to stop today, just drive on through this destination town, it teems with spring-break families; Hot Dingo’s parking spots are packed with Texas tags.

Away from people now, I pay attention to the trees. Trees shading cows, trees standing over rocks and cactus plants, trees quirked and crooked in strange survival shapes. Each should have a website of its own, I think! And then I get to flat. It’s dry and sparse, nothing here to stop the wind.

I’m needing gas, one lone station near an oil-well pump, so desolate it doesn’t even advertise its brand, or price. A fancy van is stopped in front of me. Four women slowly chat their way inside, lone man left standing by the pump. He waits; I guess they didn’t pay, just walked around inside, or took a potty break. The lone man rolls his eyes and shakes his head; mime-faces an apology to me.

The women saunter out, still haven’t paid, the man is gesturing, one ambles back inside, the others talk, and piddle, leaning on the van.  Finally the pump is on, the tank is filled. Frustrated Man jumps into the driver’s seat and pulls away, gas-cap dangling down, gas-door open to the Texas dust. I wave and try to stop him, I guess he thinks I’m waving in an angry fit for the delay, but I am laughing; my entertainment for the day.

My drive is grand, the limit 80 mph, the road is flat, the trucks are well-behaved, I pass them all with ease. I’m like Aladdin, on a magic carpet ride.

We’ll have a 7:30 dark; I make it to Van Horn in time to catch the blinding sunset sun, so bright I cannot see the street. Our room is nice, but plain; I feed the cats and drive a mile to Chuy’s, the recommended place. Oh my, inside are photographs and autographs; this place is celebrity. Pat and Vanna ate here just last month! They brag about it unashamedly, the menu tells the story of their fame. John Madden stopped to watch a football game, mentioned them on air, keeps coming back. They’ve named a room for him; named him on the outside sign. http://chuys1959.com/index.php

I order chilies rellenos, the No 9, $8.95, the best I’ve ever eaten anywhere. Sitting by the fish tank, munching rice and beans, I wonder what will come my way, by Phoenix time.

The Ides are Springsteen

Linda Burton posting from Austin, Texas — Beware the Ides? The schedule said noon, but it was 12:27 before The Boss arrived at the Austin Convention Center and began his Keynote Address, kicking off the music portion of SXSW today. “A keynote speech at NOON?” he groused. “All musicians are asleep right now.”

Not a musician, and not asleep, I enjoyed immensely (via live coverage on KUT) what he called a key notes talk.  “Since Elvis died,” he commented, “we have not agreed on anything about music. There is no pure way of doing it. There’s just doing it.”

He’s been doing it. It was announced yesterday that Springsteen’s latest album, Wrecking Ball, had topped the charts at  #1, his 10th  #1 album in the US, tying him with Elvis for third most  #1 albums in US chart history.

I’ve got no photos for you, but others do. Check it out. http://kut.org/

http://sxsw.com/

http://www.npr.org/music/

http://brucespringsteen.net/

No Limits on Austin

  Linda Burton posting from Austin, Texas — The tour guide pointed out the Moody Theater as we turned onto Willie Nelson Avenue. “That’s where Austin City Limits tapes its shows,” he said,” but tickets are handed out on a lottery basis, so don’t expect to just walk in the door.”

 It’s popular, all right. Did you know that ACL is is the longest-running music program in television history? The only TV show awarded the Presidential Medal of the Arts, it has featured everyone from Willie Nelson to Foo Fighters, presenting a huge variety of musical styles. Who could have guessed what would happen when PBS put out the call back in 1974 for original programming from its local stations?

Trio Bill Arhos, Paul Bosner and Bruce Scafe put their heads together and hatched the idea of showcasing Austin’s diverse mix of country, blues, folk and psychedelia. Bosner suggested the name — he passed the Austin City Limit sign on his commute coming in from Dallas — and thus a legend was born .http://austincitylimits.com/

That Austin City Limit sign has welcomed many to the Live Music Capital of the World. Today the city boasts 200 live music venues and 2,000 musicians in residence. And then there is the ACL Annual Music Festival in Zilker Park, three days, eight stages, and 130 bands; the Pachanga Festival, latin-themed, 20 bands of various genres; the Urban Music Festival; and of course, SXSW (those in the know just say South By) which I’ve been talking about all week, the granddaddy of all festivals. http://www.austintexas.org

And if you go away, that Austin City Limit sign welcomes you back, no matter where you’ve been. 

 Driven by a restless urge to wander,
You hitch your wagon to a shooting star.
Flying down the highway headed yonder,
Then you get where you were going, and there you are.

So a body’s born with half a mind to travel,
That wanderlust to pack your bags and roam,
‘Til you’re wearing out your boots just scratching gravel,
And you long to be some place that feels like home…

I’ve been a little blue but I’ll be fine
When I see that AUSTIN CITY LIMITS sign.

Lyrics by Hank Alrich https://hankalrich.com/notes/AustinCityLimits.html

Goddess of Liberty

Linda Burton posting from Austin, Texas — The Goddess of Liberty sits atop the Texas State Capitol dome, but I don’t find much information about why she was chosen. I was struck by the symbolism however, in my stroll around the capitol grounds and inside the building today. http://www.tspb.state.tx.us/SPB/capitol/texcap.htm

Out front a demonstration was going on, protesting cuts in funds for women’s health care. It was a lively group, rallying in red, making noise, being heard, speaking up. The Planned Parenthood bus was parked nearby, and demonstrations are scheduled for Tuesdays as these issues continue to be top-line news. Participants consented to my picture-taking efforts.

 Further up the walkway, I met Nicole, a University of Texas sophomore majoring in advertising. She was wandering the grounds with camera in hand, on assignment, looking for “something that was a defining moment in Texas history.” I asked permission to get her picture, and at my request, she took mine.

 Up at the Visitors Entrance, the line had gotten long. The two women in front of me were together, why had they come today? I didn’t ask, but noted one was armed with her camera.

 Tours were going off every 15 minutes. A little bit about the capitol, a little about Texas history, 45 minutes guided, or, you can tour the entire building on your own. Pamphlets in many languages are available to explain what you’re seeing. Davy Crockett’s portrait looms large, as do statues of Sam Houston, who served as President of the Republic of Texas, and Stephen Austin, for whom the capital city is named. In the rotunda, portraits of ex-governors surround. To the right of Ann Richards is George W Bush (accidental symbolism?). Current governor Rick Perry doesn’t get a portrait until he leaves office. Then everybody shifts over one position!

I had some lunch in the outstanding cafeteria downstairs and while resting on a bench near the gift shop met Wilma, a retired schoolteacher from Lubbock. We chatted about schools, and teaching, and changing times. She was there with her parents, her sister, and a nephew and niece. I met them too, a delightful family, headed for San Antonio after a few days in Austin. Spring break for the kids. “We have 25 grandchildren, four adopted,” bragged Wilma’s parents, offering pictures.

Back outside, a brilliant evening gown on the path ahead caught my attention. A young girl, pretty in pink, posing beside the capitol trees. Permission to get your picture? I asked. Two men, her father and her brother, armed with heavy-duty cameras, nodded in assent. “What is the occasion? Did you win a contest?” “No, I’m turning fifteen,” was her answer. A family that had been touring the capitol while I was inside squealed in delight at this photo-op and jumped to pose with her. Father and brother beamed.

The grounds were filled with kids chasing squirrels, bicycles propped against a tree while their riders rested beside, helmets on the ground; picnics spread for families; a lone laptopper concentrating over computer intricacies and the smell of fresh air. Over at the edge a woman sat on a bench, her little white dog beside.

The goddess of liberty stood watch over all.  I remembered the comment made to me by an excited young boy of ten as we waited for the capitol tour to begin. From Midland, he was there with his parents and sister for spring break time. “I’ve got a good feeling about this,” he said.