Tucson saved me.
Some people beckon Jesus into their hearts. For others a baptismal ceremony really rocks their world. Still others mark significant life changes with bar/bat mitvahs and other religious rituals.
Been there. Done that. Tithed but didn’t get the T-shirt.
As Earth Day 2016 approaches it seems fitting to sing the praises and write psalms of gratitude to the landscape that soothes our souls and challenges our spirits on a daily basis. If there is one thing that has saved me, it is these mountains and their inhabitants. This isn’t a treatise on the importance of conservation or a discourse on renewable resources. This is just a full-throated love declaration for our desert.
After almost three decades of Social Work and seeing firsthand what the human race is capable of doing to themselves and to one another, I still get surprised on a regular basis.
When it comes to humans, the more I see, the less I understand. How is it that people continue to cling to divide -and –conquer belief systems? If you turn down the volume on cable news shows, you can observe the rabid followers of two political book ends appearing eerily the same.
And when I think of the absolute havoc and heartbreak that organized religion has unleashed on this earth, well, absolute despair sets in and threatens to camp out indefinitely. I mean, really. If you look closely at religious arguments and timelines they read like a differential diagnostic graph for various pathologies.
But then, the red velvet sun sets and offers a reprieve. I genuflect before a saguaro and ask for its staying power. The roiling voices in the monsoon winds reach into my chest and dispense hope with a single boom of thunder. The brutal, loving survival lessons from grandmother owl, sister snake and cousin coyote teach me about true wisdom, transformation and the eventual need to lighten up a little bit.
A moment of beauty provides just a moment of garnering just enough hope that maybe tomorrow will be just a little bit different. Maybe tomorrow, mothers and fathers won’t abandon their children emotionally and physically. Maybe tomorrow, leaders and followers of religions and political parties will stop starting conversations with the absurd narcissists’ declaration of belief statements and change to “Let me help”.
In the backyard under the settling glow of hope, you can hear the assembling call of the quail gathering their brood under the sprawling branches of desert broom. The end of another day of hard work is at hand- rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat. Hallelujah and Amen.
—Pam Squires
This article appears in Apr 21-27, 2016.
Great letter, Pam Squires. Tucson’s magic becomes more precious, when I am not in Tucson. Like now. After five months wintering in Tucson (my home town 1959 – 2009), I am up in Oregon’s Willamette Valley for a while. Longing for Tucson is physically and emotionally painful, maybe a little bit like a heroin addict sweats, shivers and shakes for smack. Thanks for your excellent words.
Fantastic Pam, beautiful in dumb, dumber , and cruel world.
Ricardo. ???? Have you considered professional help ?
No city is more proud of their communist roots and dismissal, even distaste and ridicule to those of faith than Tucson. The intolerance may be unsurpassed.
It’s sad. A successful organization and contributor to community like Grand Canyon University is scorned, the city literally closed the door in their faces because…they’re christians, not wanted here.
5th poorest city in the country, intentionally and proudly (and stupidly) so.
What Again, so move.
Unhinged – in case you haven’t noticed, that’s exactly what people are doing – leaving Tucson, like they left TUSD by the thousands. The only growth coming from illegals.
Soon – you’ll be 4th poorest city, and even more proud, and yes, me and my family will be gone, three generations and so will the money I bring here.
What, Again:. good riddance. Fewer people in Tucson improve things. Don’t let the door whack your butt on the way out of town.
Yes, my family and I will be gone.
When I take my meds, my English improves also.
And when I talk about my family, I mean my mom, my stepfather and my half brother who is about to turn 10 years old…and will still move out of the house WAY before I do.
I really hope that mom and Joe get a house that has a basement, I love being down here fucking with all you libtards when my meds wear off. (God it sucks being me!!) Peace out!
Sincerely,
The New and Improved (believe me, I’m trying) What, Again
Yes, my family and I will be leaving Tucson. I can hear all the collective “Thank the Lord” praises.
My English also improves when I take my meds. (See the second paragraph above for reference.)
When I mention my family, I’m talking about my mom, my stepfather and their 10 year old son. Of course, Johnny boy will be out of the house WAY before I will. I plan on staying here for as long as I can milk it.
I just hope that mom and John get a house with a basement so I can still fuck with you libtards when my meds wear off, like they are right now.
God, my life sucks balls! But I’m trying.
Sincerely,
The New and (really, really trying to be) Improved What, Again.
Wow What, Again…schizophrenia must suck.
Is your step dad’s name Joe or John? Or, is it Joe John?
Like Ricardo Small sez, “Good riddance”.
The difference between Mr. Small and I is, I hope that door does smack your ass on the way out.
Sincerely, DC
P.S. Are you moving to Detroit, so that you can bitch about living in the poorest city in the country? “And be intentionally, proudly (and stupidly) so proud of it!”
“The difference between Mr. Small and I…” (Above comment from Mr. DC)
Between Mr. Small and me.