Adventure 110: Kartchner Caverns State Park/Post A

Desert girls are hot!

Feeling good after a last soak in the hot pools of Faywood, I managed a two in a row win streak to edge the Bunny in the Faywood Hot Springs Open. Let me tell you, never underestimate the power of a woman scorned. We nestled in to our spot at Kartchner State Park (Arizona), shot the breeze with our neighbors Pete and Julie from Georgia (Airstreamer's, also), and then settled in for the evening. The Bunny proceeded to trounce me in unheard of fashion. I mean some victories are more significant than others. I lost by 66 points. That's a double skunk plus five. I'm now down 4-zip. And I'm here to tell ya, the trend ain't lookin' or feel in'  that good. Kartchner State Park is about sixty miles east of Tucson, and north of Sierra Vista by about forty miles. Mexico is nearby, so is Tombstone where Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday played out their famous lives. There is also an air base that has an active daily duty roster of about 18,000. I can't remember the name of the fort right now, but it was the original base of the Buffalo Soldiers. They do various things, but one of them is to train drone pilots. It astounds me that almost twenty thousand government employees live this far out in the otherwise wilderness. 

On a more somber note, tomorrow is my first wife's (Anne) birthday. She would have been 63. Since she died suddenly in July of 1988 of a brain aneurism, I've made it a family tradition to visit her grave site with our children on her birthday. I'm missing in action this year, and tonight I'm feeling guilty about it. The kids will escort their grandmother to the grave site, and the three of them will enjoy lunch, but I'm wishing now that I had arranged to fly home. Twenty-six years is a long tome to keep a tradition alive, and I'm saddened by my lack of foresight (I'm sorry, kids). I knew I would be gone, but I didn't realize how I would feel when the time came. I never do. The night Anne died, I ended up at the Apple Barrel at four in the morning with Glenn Williams, a teaching colleague and friend who was standing by to catch my fall. After we ate whatever we ate, I was standing in line by the cash register to pay the tab. Directly in front of me was a couple who were in the touchy feely lovey dovey stage of their relationship: kisses, hugs, and grins, Oh, My!. With a grin as warm as a shared experience, the guy turned to me and asked me, "Howzit goin'?" I considered an answer for a moment, and then decided not to rain on his parade, so I replied, "Life is good, especially today." I meant it then just as I mean it now. I have nothing to do but accept what befalls me. Having said that, it's terribly unlike me to suffer the befallen (To coin a phrase). I'm the controlling type, though I pride myself in knowing which things I can control and which things I can't. I could have controlled this error in judgment (Breaking tradition), but I gave into another of my human frailties: selfishness. In addition, I don't have twenty-twenty foresight. I always cry on Annie's birthday (And on July 9, her death day. I also cry at random times, spawned by who knows what, but the pain creeps up my neck until I'm left alone in my own tear drop. Today, as I travelled I-10, I choked back some tears, faced a few frailties, and added another rock to my basket of regrets. The only thing I hate more than my own weakness is wallowing in it, so I played my reel of memories instead. I began with our first date (John Hart was dating Anne's friend, Gina Sontegrath; we double dated). I remembered choosing not to play baseball my junior (And senior) year because the coach had a rule: No girlfriends. It was the middle sixties; I was a revolutionary, so I said something like, "I don't think so, Coach." I remembered both prom nights (Junior and Senior). I remembered our breakup and our makeup. I remembered  our first 'adult' trip to Seattle. I remembered our wedding day. I remembered Steve's birth. I remembered Elizabeth's. I remembered almost everything twenty-one years together could produce. I especially remembered that no matter how awful a day, week, month, or year might have been, Annie met every new day with a smile and  hope. Over time, she passed some of her attitude on to me, which I think is why I continue to believe, Life is good, especially today.

On an important note, I've now been married to Judy longer than I knew Anne. I believe God sent Judy to me. Judy has never once tried to be Anne's replacement. Instead, she has been herself: open, loving, accepting. She reminds me of what we strive for when studying Tai Chi. She is this immense listening energy that welcomes what comes, and she sends it back around enveloping everyone in her circle. How is it possible that a man could find two such women in one lifetime? I don't know. Like I said, I believe I must accept whatever comes (See the book of James), and be thankful for it. I do, and I am.

 Home sweet home at Kartchner State Park. Another well kept state park. if you ever plan to travel in an RV, keep the state parks in mind. Every state we've travelled in so far has had excellent park sites to offer.

 The view from our veranda.

 The Bunny checking out which hike we'll take tomorrow.

 Our neighbors (Pete and Julie) like to get out on the road for four months or so each year. They replaced their Casita with a twenty-seven foot Airstream because Pete didn't like crawling over Julie to get into or out of bed. Nice upgrade. We try never to look inside bigger Airstreams. It's like riding a good bike or drinking good wine or going aboard a Hallsberg Rassey. The envy knows only two solutions: 1. Eat it. 2. Buy up.

Art shot: El Papa looking westward.

 I've not only been blessed with two great women (More than one person out there questions whether I deserved even one), but I've also been blessed with great children.

 The kids are great, but Chet the Jet left something to be desired as a pet. He was a good dog, though, cuddly and loving (He just wouldn't mind).

 Here they are a bit older and wiser.

 And here maybe at their cutest.

 And way back at Outlet Bay on Priest Lake, where we spent two weeks every summer for over ten years.

 And here when Steve and I surprised Libby on her birthday (25, I think).

 And way back in Centraila. None of Elizabeth's cancer had surfaced, but the closeness of the siblings was obvious even then.

 Not only was I blessed with Judy, I also have the pleasure of her daughters, and together we formed a blended family.

There are the girls, about to go out on the town.

And, of course, we grandparents think we have the cutest and smartest grandkids ever.