The days bawdy sunset remains
And the potholes of 22nd Street
still swallow the naive
The miracle mile fades in fame
A-mountain sleeps with one less name
Quietly, time chronicals
the people and the pueblos passing
Republicans will stop at nothing to gut Pima County and Tucson.
This story struck a note with me. I do not live in Tucson at thr moment, but I have adopted it as the place that I am from. So much of who I am today was pieced from the events of my life spent in Tucson. In 1966, I was a 7th grader attending Alice Vail. I would walk by my old elementary school, Bonillas, where I had attened 3rd and 4th grade. (The story of Mrs Eyland or was it Island...is another tale). Each day the path would guide my friend Tom and myself though a gauntlet of elementary aged kids, many of whom were on bicycles. One day before my horrified gaze a kid came flying past us out of the ally behind E 15th Street across Swan Road and was hit by a bluebird school bus and dragged beneath it for quute some distance. He was a rumpled bad of flesh covered bones with blood, hair and parts scraped across the pavement of Swan Road. My friend Tom and I stood agast at the event. The title of this artcle brought this memory back after 48 years as clearly as if it had happened last week!
The world is fill of false equivalents, and statements comparing the belief in tax funded public systems to persons who hate "successful people" is one of the best arguments for publicly funded education I have seen. The profound implications that we already have oligarchs and plutocrats claiming to be pictures of success is an astounding indication of how far this problem has progressed. Allow me to throw a reckless equivalency out there: Believing that the money you hoard at the expense of social welfare will buy you protection from the consequences of such belief is like believing that the food you eat will not create feces!
I miss my Tucson (though not AZ in general). Try Tacoma, WA for a spin and tell me about bad roads, poor design and difficult navigation!
Tucson is neither uncultured or classless! It is without pretentiousness a place that is the gateway to the frontier of the Sonoran desert and the indomitable spirit of the covert rebel in all of us. It is the result of a collision of times, culture, social mores overtly blended without malice into one of the most richly adorned in the prosaic communities I have ever known.
Steph, there's some serious embellishment going on there.
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