Yesterday the Arizona Daily Star published an article titled “31 songs that have the word ‘Tucson’ in them.” Of course, it go my attention so I read the article figuring that one of my favorite singer-songwriters would be included in the 31 songs, Tom Russell, who penned The Ballad of Edward Abbey — he was not. I guess the list was not intended to be comprehensive.
It was in the town of Tucson in Nineteen Eighty-Three A man named Edward Abbey come a walking up to me He pulled his cigar from his mouth, said, «I smell lawyers here» The politician, running-dogs, they crawled away in fear Singing do-ra-do Singing do-ra-day Ed walked across the desert at least a thousand times He spoke with javelina, slept ‘neath piñon pine And if he saw a billboard there, he’d chop that bastard down Said, if a man can’t piss in his own front yard, he’d never keep close to town Singing do-ra-do Singing do-ra-day Lord, I wish Edward Abbey were walking round today Ed had a taste for women, in fact he married quite a few He said, «I’d fall in love, boys, but I’m only passing through You know I like ’em all, boys, and some more than the rest I’ve tried my hand at monogamy, now I’m off to save the west Singing do-ra-do Singing do-ra-day Ed died one day at sundown in his Tucson riding shack They wrapped him in a sleeping bag and drove him way out back Beneath the wild saguaro, the coyotes chewed his bones And on a hidden marker, was ‘No Comment’, carved in stone Singing do-ra-do Singing do-ra-day Yeah, I wish Edward Abbey were walking round today Now I’m living in the desert, but the town is a-closing in Those cracker box developments, Ed would call a sin We stole this land from the Mexican and now we’ll sell it back And they’ll live like mortgage prisoners in those goddamn housing tracts Tell me, who votes for the mountain lion, tell me, who votes for the fox Who votes for the spotted owl who hides there in the rocks I wish that Ed would come again with a chainsaw in his hand And carve all up those housing tracts and take on back the land Singing do-ra-do Singing do-ra-day Yeah, I wish Edward Abbey were walking round today
You know that old trees just grow stronger And old rivers grow wilder every day Old people just grow lonesome Waiting for someone to say, “Hello in there, hello”
So if you’re walking down the street sometime And spot some hollow ancient eyes Please don’t just pass ’em by and stare As if you didn’t care, say, “Hello in there, hello”
— from Hello In There by John Prine
As a Veteran and an old person in general, I’m trying hard not just to fade away — “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.” Like many people my age, we are familiar with the line in General Douglas MacArthur April 19, 1951 farewell address to the U.S. Congress. A great line for a General but not for older people. I, for one, am not ready to just fade away.
As older people, we experience daily the looks of people we may come in contact with, and in their eyes, we have already faded away — they stare straight through us. In the last decade, I have seen more doctors than in the total of my eighty years, and just once, I would like, “Hello in there, hello.”
Even though the southwest is experiencing a mega drought, nature finds a way to continue life cycles.
“Drought conditions in the West, particularly the desert Southwest, have intensified over the past 45 years, with less precipitation and longer and more frequent dry spells between storms. The Southwestern deserts that include Tucson were slammed the hardest by far.” Arizona Daily Star
It’s up to us to keep moving her values forward and not take this country back to the 1950s. If you know your history, then you know what I mean. So many people have benefited from this woman being on the Supreme Court, especially women. We have lost a giant of a woman!
If I could be you And you could be me For just one hour If we could find a way To get inside Each other’s mind, mmm If you could see you Through your eyes Instead of your ego I believe you’d be Surprised to see That you’d been blind, mmm
Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Hey, before you abuse, criticize and accuse Walk a mile in my shoes
Now your whole world You see around you Is just a reflection And the law of karma Says you’re gonna reap Just what you sow, yes you will So unless You’ve lived a life of Total perfection You’d better be careful Of every stone That you should throw, yeah
And yet we spend the day Throwing stones At one another ‘Cause I don’t think Or wear my hair The same way you do, mmm Well I may be Common people But I’m your brother And when you strike out And try to hurt me It’s a-hurtin’ you, lord have mercy
Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Hey, before you abuse, criticize and accuse Walk a mile in my shoes
There are people On reservations And out in the ghettos And brother there But for the grace of God Go you and I, yeah, yeah If I only Had the wings Of a little angel Don’t you know I’d fly To the top of the mountain And then I’d cry
Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Hey, before you abuse, criticize and accuse Better walk a mile in my shoes
Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Uh, before you abuse, criticize and accuse Walk a mile in my shoes, yeah
“The Sky Peeled Back” (Santa Catalina Mountains) — Image by kenne
The sky peeled back for a moment, and a weak ray of sunset spilled over the scene like the diseased eye of some forgetful god — the light bearing with it cold in place of heat.
― Luis Alberto Urrea, from Into the Beautiful North
The Tucson Festival of Books (Click here to learn more) is this weekend, March 14th & 15th. There are a lot of reasons to attend this event, high on the my list is to attend a tribute to Chuck Bowden, a southwest literary legend. Bowden died last August at age 69 here in Tucson. One of the panel members will be author and friend, Luis Alberto Urrea.
Tony Davis writes in today’s Arizona Daily star:
“In 1993, just after Luis Alberto Urrea’s first book Across the Wire: Life and Hard Times on the Mexican Border hit the shelves, Urrea got a 6 a.m. call at his San Diego home from a gruff, gravelly voice.”
“The caller said, ‘This is Chuck Bowden. I stayed up all night reading your book. You own me money.’
I asked why. He said, ‘Because I ordered 40 copies for my friends,’ Urrea recalled.”
I first learned of Urrea when he appeared on Bill Moyers’ Moyers and Company in 2012, during which he read from his epic poem, Ghost Sickness, about the death of his father.
I continue working at becoming a better student of these two great writers.
Translations: casa=house, caramba=goodness, que pasa=what gives, con mucho cuidado=carefully, cosas=things, aquí and allí=here and there, y=and, los niños=the children, camas=beds, vestidos=gowns, cabezas=heads, esperando=hoping, waiting, nixtamal=ground corn for tamales, buñuelos=sugar-coated fritters, la estufa=the stove, y como!=and how!, chile rojo=red chile, la familia=the family, feliz=happy, a todos=to all.
“Much of the West is now a giant tinderbox, literally ready to combust. Yet thanks to fire suppression, the consequences have been postponed for decades.
“When you look at the long record, you see fire and climate moving together over decades, over centuries, over thousands of years,” said pyrogeographer Jennifer Marlon of Yale University, who earlier this year co-authored a study of long-term fire patterns in the American West.
“Then, when you look at the last century, you see the climate getting warmer and drier, but until the last couple decades the amount of fire was really low. We’ve pushed fire in the opposite direction you’d expect from climate,” Marlon said.
“The Sky Peeled Back” (Santa Catalina Mountains) — Image by kenne
Source — 
Becoming is Superior to Being 
David Fitzsimmons, Arizona Daily Star
“Much of the West is now a giant tinderbox, literally ready to combust. Yet thanks to fire suppression, the consequences have been postponed for decades.
“When you look at the long record, you see fire and climate moving together over decades, over centuries, over thousands of years,” said pyrogeographer Jennifer Marlon of Yale University, who earlier this year co-authored a study of long-term fire patterns in the American West.
“Then, when you look at the last century, you see the climate getting warmer and drier, but until the last couple decades the amount of fire was really low. We’ve pushed fire in the opposite direction you’d expect from climate,” Marlon said.
The fire debt is finally coming due.”
— Jennifer Marlon — Source: New York Times
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