Nearly 50 years ago, the Arizona administration requested my compliance in attending a one-afternoon desert orientation course. The university insisted on this because I was from the Northeast. A tenderfoot. Continue reading Cairns
Tag Archives: Arizona
In a Different Desert at 65
Now into being retired for several months, I did a few things instinctively experts suggest. First among them, I didn’t splurge.
Free of punching any timeclock, I didn’t travel. As much as I wanted to beat as many July and August weekends of Mojave Desert summer heat and hit the Coast – particularly Hermosa Beach and Oceanside – I deferred. Prudence demanded I first evaluate my new financial circumstances.
If I got deeper in the hole at this stage of life, escaping would be difficult without regular income through regular hours. I have no urge to return to the daily grind. Continue reading In a Different Desert at 65
Ten Years Forward
No way I ever saw myself relocating from New York to Las Vegas. But that’s why it’s called “life,” not “sure thing.”
As I’ve written elsewhere, after cushy foundations in New York fell apart, I needed a nice soft spot to land. Ten years ago in August, Las Vegas became that new cushion. Continue reading Ten Years Forward
Speed Kills … As It Should
In July, barreled down into Northwestern Arizona from Las Vegas. Dropped some coin in barren White Hills playing lottery that’ll help fund the Grand Canyon State’s educational system. Such donations would’ve been better spent here in Nevada. But thanks to the Nevada gaming industry’s dumb insistence lotto dollars will deduct from the Silver State’s games of chance and sports books, Nevadans do not benefit from such participations. Continue reading Speed Kills … As It Should
Eighteen
Coincidences certainly enliven life. Especially if one is aware of them as they occur. Continue reading Eighteen
Repasts that Revived
A demise that occurred last year and a recent long-distance death chased the final week of July into the first week of this August. Continue reading Repasts that Revived
Retrospectives
Had not the modern-day agonies of Covid descended upon Canaan and everywhere else on earth, the pals of Push might’ve assembled with his family over the winter to have joined their dignified and solemn burial for him. But restrictions imposed as they were, non-family members could only send condolences. Continue reading Retrospectives
People Will Talk
Which is tougher? The anticipation of arrival in Tucson? Or the melancholy brought on when leaving that Southern Arizona city? Continue reading People Will Talk
Inside the Assisted Drinking Facility
No Nevada buddies, no Las Vegas place to call a hangout should such even exist. Life’s dispersal has reduced the number of friends and associates remaining in Tucson, a k a the Desert Margaritaville. This same mortality has also shuttered many of the premises where we caroused while attending Arizona and afterwards.
One of those few elbow-benders which matured with us shares a Las Vegas connection.
During the days and nights of Sin City’s glorious mob rule, the proprietor of a vital, well-known Tucson establishment often gambled away fiendishly in Las Vegas. Away from the tables he proved himself a successful businessman. He headed franchises his family owned throughout the Southwest.
Who remembers what game of chance had buried him? The boys would’ve taken his marker. Doubtlessly both parties would’ve worked out a repayment plan to the outfit’s onerous advantage. However, the businessman defied the inexorability of his losing streak. Convinced the next hand, the next roll held the start of regained fortune he finally put up his enterprise as collateral and continued playing … only to lose everything. Continue reading Inside the Assisted Drinking Facility
Dislocation or Resettlement?
Five years ago this week, I started the process which sped me to Las Vegas. Mine wasn’t a calculated move but one performed more through necessity. Instinctively I knew it time to leave New York because other than inertia were there any reasons to stay?
In 2013, the Quarropas I’d known, had spent my lifetime, the locale which had created me, had vanished completely. Or as I could glibly tell any Nevadans who asked, “Whatever I miss was already gone before I left.” Continue reading Dislocation or Resettlement?