Jack-O-Lanterns
I would have to say Halloween. You don’t have to eat turkey, which I hate. There is an endless supply of good books and movies with a horror theme—few of which are as sappy as Xmas films. And there’s all that candy. Moreover, sometimes I think that Christmas exists to make you feel guilty for not being 100% perfect.
Cleveland’s Shaker Rapid—Way Back When
This was a particularly vivid dream that I had last night. I was visiting in Cleveland, and my mother was still alive. I was wandering the streets of downtown looking for the bus stop of the #71 CTS (Cleveland Transit System) line that went down Pearl Road to York Road, letting me out in Parma Heights where my mother lived.
The stop used to be near the corner of Prospect and Ontario, but in my dream the streets were different; and I didn’t see any bus stops. So I walked to Public Square and around Euclid and Superior Avenues, noting where Schroeder’s Bookstore used to be when I was young.
I gave up and decided to take the Shaker Rapid instead and headed for the concourse under the Terminal Tower.
Entrance to the Terminal Tower Concourse
But wait! Mom lived in Parma Heights on the West Side of Cleveland, while the Shaker Rapid served the East Side, where we used to live in the Lee-Harvard area.
My dream ended inconclusively, as I got stuck in a busy store and then had to deal with a Shaker Rapid ticket seller who pointedly ignored me.
It wasn’t a nightmare: I almost never have nightmares. It was just a curious amalgam of my many trips from home to downtown and back again. It was at a point after my childhood after 1985, when my father died. My widowed mother lived alone in Cleveland until she decided to move to Hollywood, Florida, a number of years later.
Poet Louise Mathias
This past weekend was the annual Los Angeles Times Book Festival, in fact its 30th anniversary. I attended both days, listened to a number of poetry readings, and picked up some interesting books (as if I needed more). I liked the poems of Louise Mathias that she read from her collection, the hauntingly named What If the Invader Is Beautiful. Here is one of her intriguing desert poems:
Bombay Beach
You know someone, somewhere.
A collection of knives, linoleum, unfortunately.
There’s a room now in the chest,
Comprised of a secretive clock—
clock in, clock out. The blonde
unfastens the strap,
sorry human noise
divorced
of song, unlatched now in the palms,
cocaine and ridicule,
but also, love, also.
Below is a picture I shot at Bombay Beach, on the polluted shore of the Salton Sea, when my brother and I visited last year.
Quartzite’s Main Street
On the way to Tucson and on the way back, Martine and I stopped in Quartzite, Arizona. On the way back, we actually spent the night. Why? Enroute to Tucson, we stopped at the Stagecoach Chinese Restaurant and had, respectively, chicken chow mein and kung pao beef. Martine urged me to stop there on the way back as well.
In fact we spent the night in the motor hotel connected to the Stagecoach Chinese Restaurant. (We had decided it was better to take two days to drive the 500 miles (805 kilometers) between Tucson and Los Angeles. And Quartzite was close to the middle of the trip.
The Stagecoach Restaurant and Motel
Quartzite was a strange little town whose residents appeared to be mostly snowbirds living out of their RVs during the winter. There were about 20 RV encampments scattered around the town.
There is a monument in town to one Hi Jolly, a Syrian-born camel driver who was involved with the U.S. army’s attempt in the 1850s to introduce camels into the cavalry posts of the Southwest. After the program fizzled out, Hi became a resident of Quartzite. Today there are numerous statues of camels distributed among many of the local businesses. (See top photo.)
Oh, and by the way, if you like beef jerky as much as I do, I highly recommend Daniel’s Really Good Fresh Jerky. I tried the popular Cowboy flavor and also the Habanero Mango flavor (H-O-T but good). And don’t forget the Chinese food at the Stagecoach.
The Mission Church of San Xavier del Bac
South of Tucson, visible from I-17, is the mission church of San Xavier del Bac. On Indian land belonging to the Tohono O’odham (Papago) tribe, the church was originally founded by the Jesuit Father Eusebio Kino in 1692 and is the oldest European structure in the State of Arizona, although it has been rebuilt several times. In fact, there is still scaffolding by the church’s entrance.
The mission has been called the White Dove of the Desert. The name fits, as the church’s interior and exterior are nothing short of beautiful.
To get a feeling for the church’s interior, click on this tour of the interior. Just pan the view by moving your mouse to the left or right.
Crucifix with Crown of Thorns and Decorative Papago Cloth
Needless to say, it was another hot day; and I was content to take a pew and ogle the church’s interior. None of the Junipero Serra missions in California could hold a candle to San Xavier del Bac. It is easily worth two or three hours to view the church and its grounds. Afterwords, you can go get some good Indian fry bread at the little cafe just south of the church. (I always like my fry bread topped only with honey.)
Although we had a whole half day of sightseeing left after visiting San Xavier, we ran into some bad luck. We couldn’t visit the Arizona State Museum on the University of Arizona grounds because we could not find anyplace to park. Then, we attempted to visit the International Wildlife Museum on Gates Pass Road, but found it was unaccountably closed.
Touring by Car Through the Saguaro National Park West
After spending the early part of a super hot day at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, we stopped at the nearby western portion of the Saguaro National Park. Taking a hike in the oven-like heat was out of the question, so we decided to survive the day with a modicum of comfort.
First, we spent some time at the National Park visitor center viewing the exhibits and a slide show about the Tucson Mountain District portion of the park. Then, with the air conditioner on, with drove the six-mile Bajada Loop. The road was unpaved, but well maintained. The view, especially for the southern part of the loop, was outstanding. The desert floor was crowded with fat, healthy saguaro cacti and other desert flora. Because I was driving, I didn’t take any pictures with my camera—especially as my windows were covered with dirt, smashed insects, and bird poop.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough time to see the eastern, or Rincon Mountain District, portion of the Saguaro National Park. No problem: I am not finished with Tucson and would gladly come back, but when the weather was more tolerable.
Animatronic Dinosaur at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum
Until Sunday, the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum near Tucson has animatronic dinosaurs interspersed with the flora and fauna of its regular exhibits. When Martine and I were in the snack shop eating our breakfast, we kept hearing roars. It didn’t take long to find out that these roars were coming from life-sized dinosaurs that moved around and roared.
I can understand why the dinosaurs are a temporary exhibit. As the temperature approaches 120° Fahrenheit (49° Celsius), the dinosaurs could melt. When we were at the museum, the mercury stood at 100° Fahrenheit (38° Celsius). It was enough to make me seek shade, water, and seating in that order.
Notice the Freshly Hatched Dino Eggs
The dinosaurs are a clever attempt to engage the interest of small children, who tend to be dinosaur experts.
Saguaro Cacti at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum
In his 1951 book The Desert Year, Naturalist Joseph Wood Krutch writes:
One can own, either rightfully or fruitfully, only those things—and only so much of a thing—as one can come into some intimate relationship with. One cannot really own any land to which one does not in turn belong, and what is true of land is true of everything else. One can own only what one loves, and love is always some kind of reciprocal relationship. I may buy a thing when I have the money to pay for it, but I do not actually possess it until I have allowed it, in some sense, to possess me.
When Martine and I visited the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum west of Tucson, we encountered a lush desert that made us love it. Mind you, we also love the Mohave Desert of California; but it is a drier, more austere desert that is harder to love. It is like the desert in which Satan appeared to Christ and tempted him to worship him in return for control over all the kingdoms of this earth—which, being God, he already had.
As soon as one entered Gates Pass Road in Tucson, we were in the presence of a higher order of desert beauty. There is more than three times as much rain that falls here than in the Mohave, and the variety and stateliness and richness of the plant life filled us with awe.
The Entrance to the Museum Just Before Opening Time
Unfortunately, the temperature on the day of our visit was in the triple digits (over 38° Celsius), and I was exhausted and thirsty. Fortunately, the grounds were dotted with cool water fountains and shady places to rest. We could have seen more of the museum on a cooler day, but we had to deal with the cards we were dealt.
Even so, the museum was first class. I think I speak for Martine when I say we look forward to another visit if possible.
Cool Planes on a Hot Day
After a morning visiting the Titan II Missile Silo in Green Valley, Martine and I returned to the South Tucson area to visit the Pima Air & Space Museum. We were surprised at the size of the museum, which consisted of some five buildings and numerous planes parked outdoors.
Since the temperature stood at 100° Fahrenheit (38° Celsius), we restricted our efforts to the main building. If we ever come back to the Tucson area when the weather is less forbidding, we would gladly revisit the museum and probably spend a whole day viewing the exhibits. As it was our vacation, however, our first obligation was to survive the heat. I spent much of the time sitting on benches and drinking ice tea in the museum’s snack shop.
The Floor (and Ceiling) of the Main Building
We have visited several similar aviation museums in California, but nothing the size of the Pima Air & Space Museum, which is located adjoining the Davis-Monthan Air Force Base.
Pope Francis
This world needs a steady supply of good men to outweigh the crimes and chicanery of the many. Pope Francis, who died today, was one such. There have been some extraordinarily good popes in the last hundred years (there had to be to make up for the likes of Alexander VI, the 15th century Borgia pope). These included John XXIII, John Paul II (now Saint John Paul II), and Francis, who probably also will be canonized some day.
This has not been a good time for the Catholic Church. There has been a worldwide plague of pedophilia among ministers of the Gospel—especially severe as priests in the Roman Rite may not marry, leaving little outlet for their loneliness. Also, in most Western countries, attendance at churches has been dwindling.
(Yet virtually all popes have come from Western countries. The only exception I could think of in recent memory is John Paul II, who hailed from Poland.)
Controlling the Catholic church is a tall order. It is difficult to be at one and the same time a hard-headed businessman and a saint.
Although I am nobody’s idea of a practicing Catholic, I still have strong emotional ties to the church as a result of eleven years of religious education and the helpfulness of the Catholic chaplain at Dartmouth College. When I came down with a brain tumor (chromophobe adenoma) after my Dartmouth insurance was canceled after graduation in 1966, it was Monsignor William Nolan who managed to talk the insurer to continue covering me and preventing my illness from bankrupting my family.
So, Pope Francis, may angels escort you to your reward.
Tarnmoor 
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