October 2023

We are in Las Vegas for a long weekend. The drive across the desert was pleasant today, though there was some slow going around Wickenburg, Arizona due to construction. I mentioned to Earl that it’s still weird to me that there was never a direct Interstate connection between Phoenix and Las Vegas built into the system back in the ’50s when they were planning this sort of thing. He reminded me the desert cities were much smaller back then. Signs along US Route 93 remind us it’s part of the “Future Interstate 11 Corridor”, but I doubt that’ll be finished my lifetime. There’s not much between Wickenburg and Kingman; but the drive is pleasant.

We are settled in at the Downtown Grand for a long weekend. We don’t have a lot in the way of plans. I can amuse myself just by people watching. I love doing this. We’ll probably gamble a little.

Maybe we’ll win a lot.

I was suppose to go flying with a safety pilot last night. I needed a safety pilot so I could do some instrument approaches and maintain my currency; the safety pilot is there to make sure I don’t bang into anything when I’m wearing a “view limiting device”. The pilot called, letting me know she wasn’t feeling well so we rescheduled for next week.

I opted to take Earl out to dinner instead.

We went to a local pizzeria. We’d been to Scordato’s once before and enjoyed it. Last night repeated the experience; good service, good food, and good conversation.

I did take notice of the lighting fixtures on this visit. They really like spheres around a light bulb.

Lucky was patient enough to let me put my sunglasses on him this afternoon. He didn’t particularly enjoy the experience, but for a few moments he was one cool dog, Dawg.

I never got to meet Elizabeth Montgomery in person. Back in the early 1990s a person claiming to be Elizabeth Montgomery chatted me up on AOL. She had quietly joined the “Bewitched” discussion group and was surprised there was such an interest in the show. When I showed off my “Bewitched” knowledge, she tapped me in a message and said ‘hello’. We conversed a couple of times a year for the next two or three years. The messages stopped when Elizabeth died. Either the person spoofing me was thorough in their spoof or I was actually chatting with Lizzie. Interestingly, the person I was chatting with told me a couple of behind the scene things about the show… her stand in’s name of “Melody McCord” and a couple of tidbits about working with Paul Lynde (they used to crack up on set and cause everyone to go to lunch early) and Dick Sargent (she adored him); things that came to light later in books from others that wrote on the subject. The vibe of her messages was that she could not believe folks still loved the show in 1993.

Another famous person I have always wanted to meet is Sandy Duncan. Many of my age knew her from her Wheat Thins commercials, but I remembered her from her short lived series “Funny Face” and “The Sandy Duncan Show”. I don’t remember why I remembered these series, but they must have been on TV back when I was a youngster.

Though I always liked Valerie Harper in “Valerie”, when she left and Sandy Duncan was brought in to fill the void on “Valerie’s Family” and finally “The Hogan Family”, I continued to enjoy her. She seemed to be a genuinely nice person. I remember a couple of interviews back in the day of daytime interview shows like Merv Griffin and Sandy Duncan was so bubbly.

In high school I once vehemently defended Sandy Duncan, getting into a shouting match with a classmate who insisted she could take her glass eye out. While she had a brain tumor removed from behind her left eye back in the day and subsequently lost the vision in her left eye, she never lost an eye in the process. She still has both eyes she was born with.

It’s hard to believe Sandy Duncan is in her later 70s. I haven’t seen a recent interview of her but I’m certain she’s just a perky and vivacious as ever.

My husband and I went on a long (around 500 miles) road trip yesterday. We had a good time, as we always do on these long road trips.

We stopped at the Double S Steakhouse in Willcox. It’s the weekend of “Rex Allen Days”, which is the rodeo and town carnival. There were a lot of cowboys and such at the Steakhouse. The iced teas were plentiful.

As we were driving along through rural, southern New Mexico, I kept saying to Earl, “This is what my storm chasing week is like except there’s usually a storm setting we’re headed towards”. We drove from small town to small town and chatted about life like two people do when they’ve been married for 27 years.

I fall in love with him again every day.

We made our way back into Arizona with “the wall” on the horizon for much of the trip along NM Route 9. In Douglas, AZ we got very close to the border on International Street. Nothing bad happened.

We made our way home via Sierra Vista, near Fort Huachuca Army Base, stopping for pizza at a local place where everyone was friendly and apparently the owner is from Buffalo, New York.

A great day!

We did the responsible thing and scheduled our annual appointment at the local Walgreens to get our yearly flu vaccination and the latest COVID booster. Admittedly, I’m not a fan of either, but I do these things because I’m old and intend on getting older, and it helps keep these things under control. Science is there for a reason.

The check-in process was interesting. Back when the COVID vaccines first came out it was a very regimented, structured affair. People were handled with care and the medically inclined staff treated it somberly. These days you go up, people laugh and carry on like you’re about to get a scoop of Ben and Jerry’s shoved in your mouth and everyone takes the science for granted. I guess that’s progress.

Since neither the computer nor the young cashier can apparently do math, after answering questions about my birthdate and my current age, I was ushered into a walled off cubicle to a young guy wearing a face shield who commented on my sneakers. He liked them. Two jabs, one in each arm, and stay in the store for 10 minutes please. My husband followed with the same rigamarole, save for the comments about his sneakers.

As we were strolling around for the 10 minutes, where you get $20 of “Walgreens cash” per vaccination if you spend $1 of actual cash, we noticed our local store now offers wine juice boxes. They had a selection of wines, with dark juice boxes representing red wine and light juice boxes representing white.

I like the science that invented these things.

I’m sitting outside on the gazebo. The air is very still for this time of year. Off to one side the lights of Tucson are twinkling in the distance, off to my right I can see the flashes of an approaching airliner in the sky and the flashing red light atop a tower on Mt. Lemmon. The air is pleasant and I’m finding this experience calming,

This past weekend we attended the 2023 Tucson Pride Parade. This was our first time going to the Pride parade her in the Old Pueblo, and it was an impressive affair. The parade was held Friday night and lasted for about 20 minutes. There were several groups of individuals of all persuasions, interspersed with commercial groups celebrating the diversity of their team members. The crowds along the parade route were small but well established. It was a fun time.

Sitting in the dark and seeing the twinkling lights of the city in the distance, it makes me realize how many folks out there amongst the glow of the streetlamps actually live in the area. At last count, there’s just under 543,000 people living in the city limits; we rank 33rd in city since in the United States.

Tucson is the biggest small town I’ve ever seen.

As the second largest city in Arizona, Tucson’s claim to fame is that we’re not Phoenix. While I grew up in a very small town, lived in cities a varying sizes along the way, and having lived in Chicago before moving to Tucson, there has been a bit of an adjustment for me when it comes to recreational opportunities, the size of the gay community, and the resources available here. Ranking 33rd in the country isn’t shabby, however, what was available 24/7 in Chicago is closed up by 10:00 p.m. here in the desert. I sometimes wonder if the pandemic had something to do with that. When we visit Phoenix (about two hours away) and drive around to find all night diners and the like, things are not as plentiful as Chicago, even though the Phoenix metro area is in the top 10 in the United States.

I like the quiet and stillness of this Wednesday night here in the Old Pueblo. I can’t believe we’ve been here for two and a half years. It seems like just yesterday we had Truman loaded up in the car as we made our way across the country to relocate down here.

I would have never found this quiet and contemplative atmosphere in Chicago.

Perhaps being in a mid-sized city in the United States has everything I need after all.

Years ago my husband and I attended a lecture hosted by our local (at the time) NPR station. The speaker was Diane Rehm, journalist and talk show host. This appearance was about 10 years before her final broadcast of “The Diane Rehm Show”.

One of the topics Ms. Rehm focused on was the importance of listening. Even back in the mid ‘00s, people were getting in the habit of talking a lot but not really listening. Twenty years later, things are worse than ever, but the incessant talking has been replaced by incessant shouting. There’s a lot of shouting these days.

I don’t find it enjoyable.

I will admit that I am a terrible listener. My husband often attributes this trait to the fact that I don’t like “dead air”. As a former radio broadcaster, dead air is deadly, and I can think of less than three occasions where I had dead air during one of my air shifts. He thinks I need to fill the dead air and that’s why I talk when I should be listening.

The truth is, I talk when I listen because it’s my way of understanding the context of what’s being told to me. My memory, which I can confidently say is “above average”, works best when I relate something being told to me to something personal. This usually ends up with me recounting my own personal experience in what I perceive to be a similar situation. It’s my way of saying, “I understand”, but to those who don’t understand the way I process information, it sounds like I’m making the given situation all about me. I am, but for my own purposes, not to one-up or outshine the person speaking to me.

I’m trying hard to find quieter ways of understanding this information.

With all the chaos going on in the U.S. Government these days, and lately it seems to be a lot more than normal even in these elevated times, I can’t help but think we’d all be the better for it if our elected officials just stopped hollering and trying to grab the spotlight by being the most outrageous and just started listening to one another.

If I can try to be a better listener, I certainly expect our elected officials to try to be better listeners as well.

But we know that’s not going to happen.

So when election time comes, I’m going to look for the person that demonstrates they can listen. Because listening can often lead to a civil discussion.

Unless the record has ended before you’ve had the next chance to start the next song on your air shift.