What Good Am I?

I am somewhat often brought to tears by both music and wonderful words sung with talent on par with angels in heaven.

Please take a moment and enjoy this sound by Tom Jones of feelings written by Bob Dylan.

the Hovel is this many, today!

It was three years ago that I started this blog. I had been posting to a web site for a while but was looking for a better, faster way to communicate. I decided to start this blog. It was originally just to be a way to get out some news as to how my cancer was progressing and just to amuse myself and spend a little time.

My very first blog post is here.

It quickly turned to being an open letter to my grandchildren. One big long this is who I am, this is what is on my mind, this is important to me; this is just of interest; here is what I told others about me and hello, I love you; all in one place for them to get a chance to know me. That’s why there really isn’t a single theme or linear approach to this blog. There isn’t one.

When one gets older; being know becomes an important thought with respect to one’s on grandchildren.

As I sit here and write this, my mother, your great grand mother fell a few weeks ago and hurt herself. She is being transferred from Villa Campana where she has been recovering and will shortly be placed into a permanent care home. I am unsettled in this; however, I just can no longer extend to her the care and attention she requires. These past several years have taken their toll own both her and me. I want to tell you that I am tired, but I continue, as best I can to honor my mother and father.

Seems like life never takes a break and keeps coming in all its fury. Oh well, with God’s grace, I will endure. Remember, if it does not kill you; it can only make you stronger.

As you (any visitor) go through any post here, know that you are most welcomed. I have meet some amazingly wonderful people via this blog and the internet. You are encouraged to drop me a note, leave a comment and what I most hope for; that you find encouragement to live each and every day to the best of your ability. Just remember, you are opening and envelope and taking out a letter from me to my grandchildren. It’s OK, you are welcome to read along and hopefully enjoy the journey. I pray each and every day they will. I never grow tired of telling them that I love them. I just hope they remember that I was here, that I tried really hard and I want nothing but their happiness.

God Bless you guys. I really enjoy talking to each one of you.

The Reluctant Stowaway: Airdate September 15, 1965

 

That was 45 years ago. I was 10 years old and we lived in the Pecan Grove Trailer Park in Picayune Mississippi. It was a Wednesday.

I recall going to the local market on the previous week and getting the TV Guide. There was the ‘Upcoming Season Premier’ Issue. We had three national channels then. Color was sparse and really was the domain of Walt Disney and maybe a special or two throughout the year. If you were lucky and lived in a large market, you maybe got a local ‘Indy’ channel. Picayune had no such thing. Three, count them; three channels on a very small black and white set; but what shows.

I flipped the pages and it was a glorious time; it was a Golden Age. Sunday night was always hard, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea was at 7:00 PM with the Disney show at 7:30. Oh, the horror of having to sacrifice the the last half of Voyage if Disney looked interesting, much less if there was one of the cool updates to Disneyland scheduled which was MUST viewing.

12 O'clock High was on Monday; Combat and Red Skelton ruled Tuesday; everyone’s favorite little buddy was on his Island on Thursday. Friday night provided probably ‘The Best’ evenings’ viewing of any night of any time, ever. It was non-stop starting with The Wild Wild West, followed by Hogan’s Heroes then Gomer Pyle then the decision between Mr. Roberts or the Smothers Brothers then finally at the end of the night, The Man from Uncle. Now that was a line up.

Saturday was pretty good with Flipper then Jeannie in her bottle and then Get Smart. It was amazing entertainment with only one hole for me. Wednesday night. Wednesday had some good shows but nothing that really flipped my boat. It had a big hit with my mom in The Virginian some comedy with The Beverly ‘country folk’ and their money from oil along with Green Acres. A big night for adults but not for a starved science fiction lad such as myself.

Then, Wednesday Sept. 15, 1965 at 6:30PM on CBS changed all that.

Snicker now, but on that night there were no Green Women, no talking vegetables' yet; unaware of insults and platitudes of the legendary Dr. Smith. No, that night it was serious sci-fi and a promise of excitement, adventure and of innocents retained. It was LOST IN SPACE and it was right there on our black and white TV, all for me to enjoy and dream about and in my heart believe that it was real. At least it was real for that hour; every Wednesday night for me to sit and absorb and dream. It was a wonderful time still for a 10 year old in Picayune Mississippi. It was my life.

The value of just one more day

 

{an e-mail sent to my support group this day}

Hello Everyone,

What a wonderful time I had at our monthly meeting the other night. Thank you all for the warm hugs and hardy handshakes. The smiles and questions of concern.

I have a story to relate:

This morning my oldest granddaughter came running into the house tears flowing and words struggling to be released from her mouth. Her usual smile and happy nature had been offset by something terrible.

Of course, the first thing I did was hold open wide my arms and bend down to hold her as safely and as warmly as I could deliver. Her beautiful red curls were all in dishevel madness' and her normally radiant face was ashen of some miserable, unbearable condition no one could ever, ever make better.

'Honey; what in the world is wrong?' is all I could manage to offer after the holding and gentle swaying back and forth of her little frame was at an end. As I held her away and attempted eye contact, 'It will be OK; I promise you.' was given as an enticement for information on what was the cause.

Stuttering from an over abundance of emotion and blocked by a fit of coughs , 'I.... Grandpa... I.. love you so.....much', came out of her mouth but was not to abate her tears.

After another application of the hugs and reinforcements that only a grandpa can provide to a tender granddaughter, I finally got her to calm down, breathe and tell me what the cause of the torment that had come into her life was.

Mustering courage and strength from way deep inside, she began 'It was so important to me; it was the most important thing you had ever given me. Grand pa, the book of stories you gave me, the wonderful tales of princesses and baby deer and little wooden boys ate by the whale; that one' I could see the tears forming and the breathing becoming lost to the sorrow in her mind; ' I lost....I lost it....I'm so sorry, it must have cost a million dollars Grand pa; I lost the book' followed by an open spigot of tears and sobs.

Relief finally in my mind, it was a lost book and nothing of what could have been which had been bombarding my mind. I fought the urge to laugh at the release of my own emotions of the what if variety, but caught myself to not offer a disparaging adults view of what constituted the end of the world to such a beautiful child. I applied one more hug and finally managed to get my old bone into such a position that I could take a seat on the floor and meet her gaze on an equal plane.

'Oh sweet heart, trust me, it will be OK. We can always get another one for you.'

'But grand pa, mom has told me it was worth a be jillion dollars and I was to never let harm come to it. She's going to kill me.'

Then she asked a question which gave me pause and forced me to give an honest accounting. Fighting back tears and rapid breaths, 'Have you had something you owned and thought it couldn't be replaced if you lost it?'

Holding her back from me at arms length and giving myself a few seconds of time I offered her the most honest answer I could; 'Yes, yes I have and I know exactly how you feel.' To which she gave me a look of anticipation and an oblivious desire for me to continue and tell her what it was.

'Sweetheart, you know how grand pa is sick right? and how I always have to have the Doctors do test on him?'

'Yes'

'Well, just this morning I got the results of my latest test.'

'How can that be the most important thing in the world to you grand pa? You have test all the time'

'I know I do baby, but just this morning, the doctors called and told me the results of my latest test. The cancer I have, you know, what makes grand pa sick sometimes?, the cancer, well, there is no sign of it anymore.'

I could tell by the squinted eye brows and look of questions not yet formed fully, she asked 'why is that worth a be jillion dollars?'

I smiled and held her tight and now found that I had to force back my tears and my loss of breath.

'Because my dear; it means that I get to spend more days with you, more time to watch you grow and I get the joy and happiness of just being with you.'

This time, we both held each other and then laughed with each other as only grand pa's and granddaughters can. Somehow, the lost book was forgotten and the death penalty sure to be imposed by mom had been pardoned.

No, this didn't occur anywhere other than in my mind. Well, except the call I did receive this morning and I now wish to share. I had the Pet Scan and guess what? My lungs, my throat, my whole body is clear. Oh thank God, once again; at least for right now, for a little bit of time, I am cancer free. I have yet a few more days to watch my grand children grow. I hope you pardon my little made up want and desire to be with my granddaughter. It was an honest desire of my mind expressed to you as the best way to convey my happiness and for me to make something so insignificant given the horrors in the world today, a matter of enjoyment for you to ponder.

Never take one moment for granted and never ever underestimate the value of a be jillion dollars to a little curly haired girl who now owns my heart.

I hope my good news finds you all well, whole and with good news as well. I am blessed and never think for one second, I don't know it.

Be strong my friends, as Cancer truly Sucks....

Update delivered to my Support Group last night.

 

I was thrilled to have Mindy read this to the group last night:

Hello Everyone,

I wish to tell everyone how happy I am to be here. I am blessed to be in your presence and I get so much love and encouragement from all of you.

I am OK for the most part. I get older each day and I count that as a gift from God.

I wish to let you all now that I have been so frustrated lately, frustrated to the point of tears. Insurance and Insurance Companies had become the Antichrist to me. I had become angry and worst, I was unashamed to let the world know it. Just as I was about to cave in, the other night, I got on my knees and just gave it all up to my God. Well, guess what? He took it! The next day, one of the last irritants (read as a deigned claim) was worked out. The next day, the new fangled insurance do-hickey of a company sent me a letter stating that my Pet Scan was approved. Now, it's not a perfect world, however, it is now better, thanks to the blessings which I choose to give credit to all of you and to my personal relationship with God. Thank you all for the good thoughts and the prayers. I still expect aggravation but I have found a solution; I have decided to accept Insurance Companies for what they are.... and I offer these sage words of wisdom which are not my own:

Do not try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig.

Mom is doing better but will be in Villa Campana for another week or so. I would be lying to say I have not taken advantage of her being in the care of others. I have gotten so much done, but you know what; even though I see her every single day, I miss her so much.

I must say that all of us; you, me; all of us are important. You matter; we matter. Wake up every day and give thanks. Lord knows I do.

Thank you all for being my friends and I love you all so much.

Lunch on a Sky Island

Finally, I know some of you are saying; this series of post come to an end and indeed it does.

It was time to leave and head home, however, I was getting hungry and was thinking, well, I can’t eat at one of the wonderful restaurants to be found along the Salsa Trail, so where?

Of course, it was right in front of me. Why not at say … oh 6000 feet or higher. I really did not want to go to the top of Mt. Graham, but lunch about half way up or so sounded just wonderful.

Stop at the old sign.

Running waters allow for a moment to pause and give thanks to God for life, food, my children and grandchildren.

What a wonderful view to have a can of vanilla. While breaking of bread is not the same for me as it is for you, it is still a moment to just pause and look around at the world. To renew the body and have strength to go forward.

Time to head down and go home.

I want to leave you with this sight. A very common sight in this part of the world. Not exciting but somehow pertinent and spiritual to me none the less. I have for years carried a picture of my day taken in a place much like this. He always said that these little yellow flowers were a gift. I understand now, they are right there, almost every day. They are there to be a gift to our eyes.

Time to say goodbye. And so I did.

Thank you for taking the trip with me. I had fun and I was moved.

Coffee on Main Street

To be honest, while I lived there, I never really appreciated the rich history of the city of Safford. All the locals were always saying how special the town was. Not that it is a ‘vortex’ sight like Sedona, but just a pure oh spit of a town that oozes Americana like a Norman Rockwell painting blown up into a life size ‘sandbox’ for those who live there to enjoy.

I did not take the time to go to every place of interest, I may at some later date, but I simply took the time to enjoy my surroundings and, have a lazy sunny morning cup of coffee and watch a little bit of time float by my eyes and ears and nose and my tongue. Coffee is really about the only thing I can enjoy in public, food wise, and enjoy it I did.

I hope you enjoy this slice of the Arizona South West that while it has changes, still hangs on to the past as a coat of many colors.

Just one of the many old homes that I would sometimes pass. The town is full of them.

This is what $44,606.41 would buy you in 1916. The Graham County Courthouse is a neo-colonial brick building with Tuscan columns.

Yes, that’s one of the many street lights you will see all along Main Street. They are beautiful when lit; to be honest, I am unsure if they work today, but I recall them as being just amazing on a cool winters evening back in the day when the city still celebrated the birth of Christ.

Yes, It is Main St.

There it is. On the West end looking East.

See, all those lights. All along the street.

That’s the Safford City Hall. Built in 1898 at a cost of $5,400.00, it was the original High School. No, not the one I went too. It was remodeled in the 40’s and became the City Hall after Safford was incorporated in 1901.

I told you I was up and on the road early. 8:23AM and I am downtown already and looking for a cup of coffee, my thermos was dry already.

Are you kidding me? A town square with a town clock. Man, I so miss the pace of this little spot on earth.

The North side.

From the East end looking back to the West. That’s the Court House at the end in the distance.

Where I learned to love salsa!

While Pollock’s is not on main street, but is on the Hwy., I wanted to take a picture of it as it is often mentioned amongst my FB friends from high school.

and………  one more stop today. I went to Thatcher to see if my old church was still there. It was an old store front church that was originally a hardware store. No luck; it was long gone, however I did go by what it became and I believe the old members would be fairly proud of what occurred over the years.

Well, there is your trip down Main Street. I know it’s not a colorful as Main Street USA in Disneyland; but in another way… it may, just may be better in certain ways.

{a trip up the mountain tomorrow}

When reality became nothing more than a memory.

 

Yes, I had read the Wikipedia page for Safford High School. I knew in my mind that the beautiful old buildings which had been built in 1915 had been reduced to mere memories in 1980. Just seven years after I had been there. I knew, but somehow, I just figured it was nothing but a myth. After all,  Wikipedia; you shouldn’t believe most anything you read on the internet right?

Well, it’s gone. Almost every real physical evidence that it had ever been there. It’s all the ‘NEW’ middle school now. As I slowly drove past, I was saddened and felt somehow part of my youth, my development, my very history had been whipped clean by some horrible dark force from somewhere in the universe. There had been no superheroes' to stay the destruction.

It wasn’t as if the new buildings were ugly. It was that they were simply not as pretty; not as majestic or stately as the halls, rooms, offices, lockers, the very smells and sounds which echoed back and will be forever the only proof that it ever was there.

Then, out of the corner of my eye; I caught a glimpse of something tangible. The archaeologist of my past leaped into my throat and I saw two little spots of remembered vision which gave proof  to my mind. I really had been there, amongst the real of that day and they cried out to my ears, my eyes, my heart and put it somewhat to rest. Not all was memory.

Believe it, this is the lunchroom. Oh my, the lunch lady had truly haunted me. She had been there and every day, it had been excitement as to BBQ with hard as nails green beans. There were really good tacos and equality bad meat loaf. Milk, tea, water and some juice. If there was soda, I do not recall. It was always loud and green pea fights were non miss social events for the ages. In my day, you couldn’t leave campus until your senior year. I did leave, not really to go somewhere to eat but to do the things that seniors did in my day. Most of the time, if I ate, I ate right here. I was a little happy.

While the old two story, wonderfully loud gym was gone; the very gym where I played as the ‘Pistol” and did things with a round ball that amazed opponents, teammates and fans alike. There was some really cool things that took place on that floor both in practice and in games. All that is just in my mind now. But, then there there was the grass.

 

The field of honor I had played on, shed blood on and broken my nose on. My oh my, I still see those stands full of proud parents, excited students and staff and with just small town Friday night football fans who were being entertained in a manner only high school athletics can provide. Some games, people jammed the stands and surrounded the field. Camera flash and hamburgers with peppers, spilt soda and stolen kisses. It really had happened to me. It really had happened to me and it happened right here.

Most of the buildings were gone, but the aliens who came and destroyed, had not the ability to wipe clean my reality that was now just a memory. I think I hated it then, but now; oh Lord, I miss it so.

Tomorrow, I go downtown Safford.

down the road and into town

It takes a while to make your way up to Safford. I was surprised by the road construction and improvements to the road which use to be Hwy. 666; no fooling, we called it the 'Godless Way' when I was growing up there.




What use to be a drive up, down and over rolling hills, is now a super smooth and flat modern road into town. A lot safer but has lost (like much of America's roadways) its character.


Town comes into view!


First stop literally, as you come into town from the south was my two old residences. The old trailer was gone and the duplex where I helped Mr. Trajo pour a sidewalk were nowhere to be seen. The first sign of many changes to come this day.
However, I did fine the old dirt road which was next to where we lived. This is the dirt road I would run on as, believe it or not, I was a jock and ran to stay in shape. Many mornings and evenings alone, up and down this dirt road.





Somewhere on the left side of road was a huge old tree. Sad to see it is now gone.







This picture is merely a memory. As I ran all those times, there was a house on the hill. I would often look up there and think about where I would someday live. Well, it was in no home like it was, but I dreamed. That house is still up there on the hill.




The year was 1970, I was new to the town and in the 10th grade. No car yet. That meant you rode the bus until you felt comfortable enough to walk with a as yet unmade friend and you rode the bus. It was here, that I would stand and wait. Usually with a book in hand. I remember a few Doc Savages and Hubert's DUNE and indeed, a mostly unknown Phillip K. Dick and his Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, were partially read right here along this stretch of the 'Godless Hwy'. So long ago, and thankfully, I soon made friends and eventually got a car.

Yes, the water ditch was there along side a field. That sign is new. There are some memories right there. Cool mornings waiting for that stupid bus.



After that school year, Dad moved into Tucson but that did not pan out and we moved back to Safford for my Junior and Senior years of High School. This is the apartments we lived in. The last unit on the right. Really exciting right. I knew no better, all my life I have lived in either trailers or apartments. The first home I ever lived in was as an adult and was married. However, for 1972 and 1973; this was home sweet home.



You have to love the trash can and old stove on the roadside action here. Sorry, couldn't resist.

OK, come back tomorrow if interested.

Can you stand thrills?

It was to have been an album title(my age is reveled in that statement).

I am not sure when and where, but along I-10 from New Mexico/Texas border all the way to Picacho Peak north of Tucson; they sprang up on the roadside almost as plentiful and those yellow desert flowers seen all over. I remember in all of our family travels as I grew up, these wonderful tourist traps nee restaurants nee gift shops nee gas stations were a timely stop along the road for not only gas but usually a much needed stretching of the legs and usually a 'talk to a man about a dog'. Stuckey's comes to mind and with every visit my mom ALWAYS got a box of pecan brittle.

For some reason which I can not put my finger on, these little oasis on the roadside have become ablaze in my nostalgic reckoning like a classical pop art memory of certain paintings that never leave the minds eye. They radiate without neon and tend to proclaim 'OPEN 24 Hours'. They have amazing menu's of food never tasted, ice cream so yummy on a hot parched dessert trail with no end.

Stalls of little rocks with black fake satin bags to place them. Leather coats probably made by child or slave labor in some hapless country. Moccasins which you would be embarrassed to be seen in. Salt and pepper shakers in the form of anything you could imagine. Apple cider and bull whips to hang on the wall with rugs of Elvis and those dogs. Belt buckles and letter openers; the list is endless.

There is one such place on our journey today. It announces itself for miles with signs both East and West. In big huge black lettering in a font from a 1950's Drive In horror movie trailer....THE THING! One such yellow billboard long since gone asked without hesitation, Can You Stand Thrills?

I was happy to see, after all these years that the price of admission was still the same. In 1973 and as of this week; you can still be enraptured foe a mere $1.00USD. For a child, only .75 cents. I was blown away until I remembered that it probably was over priced still. Yes, I have plopped down the shekel to take the long walk. I was, ahhhh, hummm, well, I was, how does one say.... wtf? underwhelmed, LMAO pleased that it was not a lot to pay! Ahh, I jest; like most everything in life, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, well, you get the picture. If you do decide to see The Thing, be prepared to laugh with yourself.





I stopped, to pay homage to the trips of my youth, to look at things to purchase, to attempt a soft ice cream in a cup (I managed 2 or 3 spoon fulls), talk to a man about a dog and yes, I bought one of those long sleeve colorful wool style w/hood pullovers from Mexico for $5.39 USD. A bargain! Right?

As to the album, a friend and I from High School were into music and reading The Rolling Stone magazine in our striving to be somewhere other than where we were; saw the sign on a trip and laughed in unison and said out loud at the same instance; The Thing! Can you stand thrills?...what a great album title. Smiling for miles, we spoke of music and of the tensions in our little world of 1973. It was a magical time and it's too bad I blinked.

Next time, a turn North on U.S. Route 191 and a city comes into view.