Sunset in Shreveport

(My favorite part is the streetlamp.)

Honeysuckle

When I was a kid, one of the wealthiest families in town lived two houses down and catty-corner across the alley from me.

No, it most assuredly was not because I lived in a posh, puff-puff neighborhood; I think it had more to do with this particular family living modestly in the middle of a small working-class town. Our families went to the same church, the same school. We were simply neighbors.

There were three kids in their house: Jeff, who was one year older than I; Mindy, who was three years older; and Tony, who was three years younger. Growing up, Jeff and I were sometimes in the same Sunday school and/or Bible school class, and occasionally, my sister and I would venture across the alley to play with them.

Mostly, though, in our neighborhood, we played with the kids who lived across the street from us. They would usually gather at our house; for some reason, we always seemed to have the net up for badminton or the tent up for camping. Our house — or, more precisely, our yard — always seemed to be The Place to Be.

Mindy had a pony. They kept him (her?) in the country, but every so often, she would have the pony at her house. My mom has a photograph of Jeff and me and the pony.

[Manya: I had a pony!]

: )

One summer, Mindy showed me how to suck the “honey” out of honeysuckle. I always think of her when I see it growing all around. Which it is doing right now: Over at The Lovely’s, out back in the middle of my beloved poison ivy patch, everywhere.

Before we got into high school, Mindy, Jeff and Tony had moved. Just a few blocks south, though, and we still saw them at Sunday school and regular school.

My freshman year, I decided to go out for tennis. Mindy was on the team, too, but despite our having been neighbors when we were “kids,” we were not exactly friends. She was a senior in high school and had been on the team all four years; in fact, she played No. 1 singles and doubles. I was a lowly freshman just hoping to make the JV team.

And somehow, over the course of the tennis season and the rest of the school year, Mindy and I became true friends.

We would hang out together, occasionally, on tennis and band trips. At school, every few days, we’d go to lunch together: We’d pile into her car — a four-door 1960s-model Ford Fairlane that reminded me, oddly enough, of Teaberry gum, color-wise (the car was the same color as the background behind “TEABERRY” on the package, and it had a white top) — and head out to the grocery store her parents owned, grab a sandwich, cruise through The Ville and then return to school.

I used to love making her laugh.

I remember being kind of incredulous at the time: I mean, I hadn’t set out to become friends with her even though we’d been acquaintances most of our lives. It just sorta happened ... like most friendships sorta do.

Anyway, honeysuckle reminds me of her.

: )

Snake's Alive!

Took a little detour today on my way to the college. Drove out to one of my favorite sites near the lake. Ventured through a picnic area, turned around and headed out of the park.

Nearly missed this guy (or gal?) lying in the middle of the road. Drove a few feet past and thought, Hmm, that looks like a snake.

Yes, indeedy!

I have no idea what kind of snake this is. I looked up some on the Internet but, so far, have had no luck identifying this one.

I decided I wanted a shot of the snake flicking its tongue out at me ... but if you try to snap a photo while the animal is doing so: Forget it. Much too quick. So I used the burst mode on my camera and caught a little tongue.

Soon enough, this snake had had quite enough of me and crawled off to the side of the road.

Field Notes: Arizona Flowers

500th Post!

Running to Stand Still

And so she woke up
Woke up from where she was
Lying still
Said, “I gotta do something
About where we’re going”
Step on a steam train
Step out of the driving rain, maybe
Run from the darkness in the night
Singing ha, ah la la la de day
Ah la la la de day
Ah la la de day

Sweet the sin
Bitter the taste in my mouth
I see seven towers
But I only see one way out
You got to cry without weeping
Talk without speaking
Scream without raising your voice
You know I took the poison
From the poison stream
Then I floated out of here
Singing, ha la la la de day
Ha la la la de day
Ha la la de day

She runs through the streets
With her eyes painted red
Under black belly of cloud in the rain
In through a doorway she brings me
White gold and pearls stolen from the sea
She is raging
She is raging
And the storm blows up in her eyes
She will
Suffer the needle chill
She’s running to stand
Still.

— U2

Field Notes: Arizona Critters

Unfortunately, I didn’t see that many critters whilst traveling through Arizona. I was hoping to see a roadrunner or a rattlesnake or a tarantula or a scorpion, but ... no such luck.

Or, perhaps the fact that I did not see any of those creatures was the lucky part.

: )

I caught a glimpse of what I believed to be a tiny squirrel (naturally, I’m not sure of the exact kind; I think it was one like the ones on Emily’s postcard) when I arrived at Saguaro National Park-East; however, it was way too quick for me to snap a shot of it.

I got a couple of lizards and some birds, though, at various sites in the state.

Those last three birds are love birds that belong to Kesara’s sister.

Field Notes: Sedona

Monday and Tuesday, May 8 and 9, 2006

Sheila tells me about Sedona. Kesara’s sister and brother-in-law (who live in Sedona), upon hearing that I am going to the Grand Canyon, tell me to make sure and visit Sedona, too, while I’m up there.

I could see myself living there, someday.

Again, these are in no particular order except chronological, sorta. The last one is called Snoopy Rock (the nose gives it away).

: )

Dances with Dreams

“I am in mourning.” — Stands with a Fist in Dances with Wolves

———

Maybe it’s a geographical thing and I am simply not yet ready to dust the Southwest out of my soul.

Maybe it’s the news of the unexpected death of a longtime acquaintance, a woman who took the time and effort to be nice to me, every time I saw her.

Maybe it’s the realization and, perhaps more importantly, the acceptance of the end of the ... what the fuck do I call it? The relationship? The friendship? Six years later and I still have no idea what to refer to her/me/us as.

(Much as I don’t want it to, this one hurts the most.)

: (

Even in mourning, though, I refuse to see only sadness.

At the moment, I am printing Arizona photos for one of my co-workers. I know her well enough to know that it took a lot for her to ask me for them; she doesn’t know me (quite) well enough to know how honored I am that she asked. Yet, I am.

And tomorrow I am going to a baseball game.

———

“But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again.” — Terence Mann in Field of Dreams

(Hmmm, any coincidence that both films I quoted were Kevin Costner movies? I think not.)

: )

Field Notes: The Grand Canyon

Hey, look: I’m almost as tall as the Grand Canyon!

: )

Words sorta fail me now, one week later, as I contemplate my visit to a place that I, for some reason, keep wanting to refer to by its Spanish name, el Cañón del Colorado ... which, all week, I kept thinking of as “el Cañón Grande” — references that would piss off some people, probably the same ones who get uptight over such atrocities as singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in Español. (Myself, I usually don’t sing the national anthem, but I certainly couldn’t care less what language others use when they sing it. What upsets me are those people who don’t stand at attention when it is played or sung, whom I have witnessed many times at various sporting events — and it’s not just the kiddies doing this, either — or those idiots who are just plain disrespectful, such as that NBA player who used to turn his back to the American flag when the national anthem was performed. Hey, you don’t have to honor this country’s flag or anthem or anything, but you don’t have to be a complete dumb-ass, either!)

OK, now, where was I?

: )

I have wanted to see the Grand Canyon for, like, forever. I had a chance to do so in 1989 when I visited some pals in Phoenix; however, that was a quickie three-day-weekend trip, and no one seemed to want to spend one of those days traveling to and from the Grand Canyon.

I also had the chance to visit this natural wonder seven or eight years ago when my pals and I ventured to Las Vegas and spent part of a day at Hoover Dam. Had I known then just how close we were to the Grand Canyon, I would have insisted that we drive on over ... or, at the very least, I would have gotten in a good pout/sulk about it if we didn’t work that into our travel plans.

Last week, however, provided me with the perfect opportunity to see the Grand Canyon, and I seized it.

Monday, May 8, 2006

I leave Tucson sometime between 7 and 8 a.m. (Not sure what it is about the desert/mountain air, but for some reason, this entire week, I am able to go to bed relatively early each night and arise rarin’ to go each morning!) By early afternoon, I arrive at Flagstaff, figuring I have another two-plus hours or more before reaching the North Rim.

Naturally, I failed to figure in the half hour or so that I spend LOST in Flagstaff! OK, not so much “lost” as “off course,” but, ultimately, it’s all good; after all, I’m going to the freaking Grand Canyon!

: )

I see a sign, just after the turn-off to the South Rim, saying the highway to the North Rim is not yet open for the season. My pre-trip planning had advised that another road to the North Rim should not be attempted unless you had a four-wheel drive vehicle, and even then, you could expect to receive tire damage — so I quickly decide that the South Rim sounds pretty good to me.

Twenty minutes or so later, I enter the Grand Canyon National Park, pay my $25 fee and drive to Desert View. I park, visit the restroom and then walk toward a vacant bench overlooking the Grand Canyon.

For the second time on this particular afternoon, my eyes fill with tears. Just like now, as I type these words that I wish could somehow describe how it feels to look into the enormity, the sheer magnitude, of this place. This beautiful place.

My beautiful friend Roger understands. He tells me, a couple of days later — during a chat in which he refers to me as “cactus-butt” (let us all pray that THAT one doesn’t, uhm, stick!) — that he has been to the Grand Canyon a couple of times, and both times he cried (“like a baby” were his exact words).

My beautiful girlfriend understands, also. She, too, has been to the Grand Canyon twice, and she simply nods in agreement when I stammer away, trying to convey just what it is that seeing this place has meant to me.

Even the photos cannot do it justice ... and far better photographers than I am have tried. And some of them have come away with pictures that, surely, are quite vibrant and lovely, but unless you could somehow shoot photographs and print them, life-size and in the exact colors of the canyon — and you would probably need to shoot one every few minutes, almost every day during every season of every year, because the varying weather conditions and lighting would surely give you different perspectives — well, to me, that would be the only way to “capture the canyon,” so to speak.

Still: I try. (Of course I do!)

: )

In no particular order, other than mostly chronological as I make my way along Desert View Drive.

It is right about here that I ask some fellow tourists to snap the traditional “Me Standing in Front of the Grand Canyon” picture. Which I was NOT going to do, thinking, why do I need a picture of me standing in front of the Grand Canyon, anyway? After this, naturally, I decide I also need to take pictures, via the camera on my phone, of me standing in front of the Grand Canyon!

For whatever reason, to do this, I place my Kodak 6490 on one of the flat rocks at the lookout point (instead of looping the camera strap around my neck LIKE I ALWAYS DO and LIKE I ALWAYS INSIST THAT OTHERS DO, also) and snap away with the phone. After this, I go to pick up my Kodak and accidentally DROP IT onto the ground ... which is not so much “the ground” as it is “a rocky incline leading DIRECTLY to the bottom of the Grand Canyon”!

(Gulp!)

The camera bounces and slides a couple of feet before coming to rest between these boulders — henceforth known as Dumb-Ass Rocks. (The “Dumb-Ass” part is dedicated to me; matter of fact, I cannot tell you the exact names of ANY of the previous formations in the Grand Canyon, but if I ever return, I most definitely WILL be able to point out these rocks.)

The Kodak comes to rest about three feet from the drop-off into the canyon. From whence there is absolutely no way I would have been able to retrieve the camera, let alone expect it to be in any kind of working order. (Amazingly, the only damage appears to be to the lens cap.)

Later, whilst driving through Flagstaff, I decide that perhaps I am not a total dumb-ass after all. Having no real clue how, exactly, to get from the road I am on back to Highway 89, I decide to trust my instincts and go straight — and end up right in the middle of the clusterfuck in which I had found myself earlier in the day during my little, uhm, detour.

Fortunately, though, after having been lost/off course there once before, I suddenly remember exactly how to get to 89! I smile to myself and, later, think of designing a bumper-sticker that says, “Not all who wander are lost ... at least not this time through!”

: )

Field Notes: Arizona 4

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Early May is apparently the perfect time to catch the saguaro cactus in bloom.

Not so easy to get close-ups, however, because those suckers are tall!

(Note to self: Next time, take a ladder.)

: )