Tucson: House Hunters, Part 1

Derelict house Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico. September 2013.

When I embark on a house hunting search, I consult various sources, including craigslist, hotpads, apartments.com, real estate property managers, zillow, and online forums.

During my Tucson search, a forum responder proposed that I had filet mignon expectations on a hamburger budget.

I burst into laughter upon reading this.


My last place - I didn't even have a stove. I called it my French kitchen, a kitchen comprised of components:

• A borrowed toaster oven
• A borrowed electric skillet
• A folding table for a counter, borrowed

Heheheheh.

Filet mignon! The idea!

Well, wait.

I did have filet mignon there:   

• Well-aged wood floors gentled with a soft patina
• The wash of daylight that bathed my 1970s shower and tub, a luxury compared to the space capsule in my El Paso apartment
• A garage! First ever in my adult life! Did it matter that it was in the basement and three flights of stairs going down AND coming up? No! A garage!
• The red fox that visited the big blue dumpsters one morning, licking sweet remains from a slippery plastic wrap
• Congenial neighbors
• An easy walk to the grocery store or library, beneath mature trees and alongside bursting yellow, orange, white, and indigo flower gardens

Bathroom, Ferguson, Missouri. November 2017.

And in Opelousas:

• Lovely light that streamed through tall, old windows
• A lush spring-flowering tree outside a window, which a melodious mockingbird called home
• A gentleman neighbor who spent many a day babysitting his young grandsons, and who accompanied me on occasion to the local casino for a bit of dancing

 

Opelousas apartment. Opelousas, Louisiana. April 2015.

Hamburger budget?

Dude, I've got a chicken liver budget.


Fortunately, I love chicken livers.

Tucson, AZ: Tohono Chul: Tubes

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

The thing about art is that you can conceive it and give birth to it, and it will be imbued with your artistic DNA, but once you release it to the wild, you have zeero control over the meaning that others put on it. .... Warning: This is watchacall foreshadowing.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

On two visits to Tohono Chul, I visited Monica Zavala-Durazo's exhibit, which she titled Chubasco. The tubes represented a fond childhood experience related to her daddy and a memorable wash of rain.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

The tubes, suspended from the ceiling, invited me to stand beneath them and to look up.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

There is something about an object that, if solo, may or may not be particularly interesting, but en masse, creates a presence.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

I liked the colored, seemingly random threads that dangled from the tubes.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

 
A video of Ms. Zavala-Durazo's work below, created from both of my visits:

There was something, something, something else that made me mentally cock my head to the side, and wonder, what do these tubes remind me of?

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Ohhh [gears whirring] .....got it! ........ horse peñises. You know how you're standing along a pasture fence and there's a gelding within, and you notice how he's letting down his peñis from the sheath a bit, then retracting, then letting down a different length, then retracting. It is difficult to turn away, as it elicits both a scientific and lurid fascination.

Which reminds me. Did I ever tell you about that time my mother took me to a semeñ auction? I swear to God. Every once in awhile, the woman throws out a real curve ball. And if I tie this memory to the art, I will always remember the succinct judgment she handed down on my very first piece of art that I bought for a sizable-to-me price: "The colors are lurid."


But getting back to Ms. Zavala-Durazo's installation. Any time you capture someone's attention for your work, you can call it a success, yes? I think so.


A slide show of all of my Tohono Chul visits:

[Note: To save the time and energy of those who are surfing for more specific pages re: male anatomy, I've tossed an ñ into the works instead of an n.]

Tucson, AZ: Music For Dying

Crepuscular 1. December 2006.

Intro

A couple of years ago, I came upon an NPR episode called What Music For the Dying Sounds Like. I said to myself: Fascinating.

And: What a good article on which to base a lesson plan for my English language learners. Which I did, and which I still use today.

As a side note (get it?), years ago, I created a mental playlist for my funeral, which, unfortunately, I won't hear, should it even be played. But for the record (get it?), here is that playlist:

• Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
• Amazing Grace (Judy Collins cover) AND (Blind Boys of Alabama cover - the combo of two greatest songs ever!)
• Will the Circle Be Unbroken
• This Little Light of Mine

Odd choices, perhaps, considering I'm not a Christian, but there you go. I like the songs.

But I've digressed, because the purpose of this article is to talk about music for the dying, not the already done dead.

Crepuscular 2. December 2006.

Liminality

But before I get to the music-while-dying part:

One Saturday afternoon in El Paso earlier this year, I participated in the Tumblewords Project writing workshop. Dr. David Romo led the day’s workshop, focusing on history and poetry. Dr. Romo brought his double bass with him; he played its rumbly, jazzy self to accompany some of our poetry readings. A very cool touch. He talked about “liminality” in his writing perspective.

Liminality, he explained, refers to being on a threshold, being between a past and a present. A rather poetic definition is here:

The word liminal comes from the Latin word limen, meaning threshold – any point or place of entering or beginning. A liminal space is the time between the ‘what was’ and the ‘next.’ It is a place of transition, waiting, and not knowing. Liminal space is where all transformation takes place, if we learn to wait and let it form us.

Dr. Romo self-identifies as a fronterizo who grew up in El Paso, someone who, as another author describes him, is a “borderlander, someone who embodies two languages and cultures and moves smoothly between them.”

Dr. Romo described the complication of answering mundane questions at Border Patrol checkpoints such as: Where are you from? Where are you going? Why are you going there?

This made me laugh. I had a similar experience when people asked me in the past six months: Where do you live? In the past six months, I flowed from Mexico City to Missouri to Louisiana to El Paso, and then to Las Cruces.  Thus my answer: Well, nowhere at the moment. Perhaps should have said: I live in Liminal. It’s a small border town.



Liminality also refers to " .... borderland between life and death."

Crepuscular 3. December 2006.

Songs for the dying

When I met Katie on that Monday morning in Tucson, she told me she was a member of Tucson's Threshold Choir, which (I read later in one of its cards):

"..... offers comfort through bedside song - for those in hospice care, those who are healing, those facing challenges, and their families and caregivers."

The Threshold Choir is "kindness made audible."

Katie's introduction of the Threshold Choir to me kind of took my breath away. Well.

Tucson. 

Crepuscular 4. December 2006.

Tucson, AZ: Temporary Home #2

Temporary Tucson home #2, Tucson, Arizona. March 2019.

This was my temporary Tucson home #2 for about six weeks.

Temporary Tucson home #2, Tucson, Arizona. March 2019.

Temporary Tucson home #2, Tucson, Arizona. March 2019.

Again, the serendipity of direct and indirect networking brought me here.


Back in Las Cruces, there was that evening I went to contra dancing. While there, a woman approached me:

She said, "Are you the person who's moving to Tucson?"
I said, "Yes!"
She said, "My name's Katie. Someone pointed you out to me, and said that I might want to talk with you. I live in Tucson, but I'm thinking of moving to Las Cruces."

We chatted a bit, then exchanged contact information so I could ring her up when I landed in Tucson.

Temporary Tucson home #2, Tucson, Arizona. March 2019.

About a month later ....

1. I hit Tucson late on a Saturday afternoon.
2. Saturday night, I texted Katie and explained I was in town, could I buy her a cup of coffee in the next couple of days, and would she kindly spill a bean or two on what's what in Tucson?
3. Katie and I agreed that Monday would be a good time to meet, and she selected a coffee place near the university.

On Monday morning, we got together. It was a cool, sunny, breezy day, and we sat out on the cafe patio. There were orange trees.

From Katie, I learned about the Threshold Choir, of which she is a member. More on this here and here.

Temporary Tucson home #2, Tucson, Arizona. March 2019.

I told Katie I sought a place to live - an apartment, a casita, or if the circumstances were right, a rental in someone's house.

It just happened that .... 

Katie had a friend who, that very day, was moving into a communal house, and that there was one more room available - if it hadn't yet been spoken for - that I might want to look at.

Temporary Tucson home #2, Tucson, Arizona. March 2019.

Aiee, the price was high! But for a month or so, with utilities 'n all included, I could swing it, giving me ample time to find my one-year Tucson place.

Katie called her friend, and lo! Angels were singing, as said friend informed Katie that, yup, the room was still available, and we could hie over there right then and take a look.

Katie graciously drove us both over to the house. I scanned the place, was able to talk with the landlady (who's out of the country for an extended time), negotiate the rent, test the internet connection, and take note of the following amenities:

• Large furnished bedroom with a lovely view and plenty of space for me to work online; 
• Fast internet (essential for my work); 
• Three-quarter bathroom for my private use, although it was down one floor from my bedroom; 
• Side garden with outdoor furniture, colorful plants, pleasing ambient bird sounds, and visual entertainment of lizards zipping up and down and around;
• Ample parking; and
• Colony of gregarious ground squirrels in the front yard. 

Temporary Tucson home #2, Tucson, Arizona. March 2019.

I moved into my Tucson temporary home #2 the next day.

I became the sixth of a group of housemates: four women and two men. Each of us had our own sleeping room. Two of us had a private bath, and four of us shared two bathrooms. There was an additional full bathroom downstairs for community use.

My gratitude to Katie for being the kind conduit for my temporary arrangement! 

Nogales, Mexico: First Look

Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. April 2019.

I didn't expect the hills.  Pretty.

Nogales, Arizona. April 2019.

I didn't expect the Wall to feel uglier, more menacing than its section in El Paso.

Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. April 2019.

I didn't expect an early dinner of, basically, a pulled meat burrito that was sandwiched in a sweet roll with icing on it (!) instead of a tortilla, drowned in a sauce that may have been the best flavor of the lot. The dish was a torta ahogada. To people whose Spanish is as wobbly as mine - attention: Torta means cake, period. At least in Nogales, at least in this particular restaurant. Not "sandwich," no matter what someone might say to you. I'm going to put this dish in my mental file drawer that includes regional dishes I don't have to do again: Navajo taco, poutine, and Frito pie.

And, yes, eating pulled pork with icing on it tastes about the way you'd think it would, once your brain reads and accepts that it is, indeed, what it seems to be. But the lag time between taking that first bite and understanding that first bite creates no little consternation. 

Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. April 2019.

My friend and I parked the car in the lot next to the McDonald's, then used the McDonald's restroom, then walked the three or so blocks to the walk-through port of entry. No money needed coming or going. Also, normally there's a $5 parking fee for the lot, but there was no one on duty, so evidently the day we went was a gift. Thank you, Nogales!

Whereas Juarez has an open-sky, expansive feel to it, Nogales has a mid-size town vibe, a bit like a Midwestern air. My opinion on this will likely evolve if/when I return to explore for longer than the hour or so we dipped our toes in. 

Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. April 2019.

A slide show of Nogales below:

Tucson, AZ: Tohono Chul: Flora and Fauna

Lizard at Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Fauna


I heart desert lizards. They scamper up and down trees and across grounds; they do push ups; they pop out their necks like bubble gum; they move their heads about charmingly. They eat insects. They are relatively polite, not making a mess of one's garden, house, or trash. They are quiet. They are not likely to climb onto you.

There are many lizards at Tohono Chul, just as there are in Tucson generally. On my Easter afternoon visit, I saw a lizard with black and white rings arund its neck and a curly tail - like a Samoyed's curl - with black and white rings at its tip.

Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Flora


The usual assortment of cacti reside at the botanical gardens, of course.

Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

So maybe one's eye naturally seeks out that which is a little different, such as how the light passes through a bloom or how it rests on giant seed pods that a tree sloughed to the earth.

Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

 

Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Or how light transforms paddle spines into tiaras.

Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Related posts here: 

Tohono Chul: Steel Beats
Tohono Chul: Cactus Shadow Study


A slide show below:

Tucson, AZ: Tohono Chul: Cactus Shadow Study

Mexican Fence cactus, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Easter afternoon was the first visit to Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens for both me and a new Tucson friend, "Stu."

Mexican Fence cactus, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Stu, a professional photographer, brought one of his cameras, as did I.

Mexican Fence cactus, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

By the time we arrived at the corral surrounded by Mexican Fence cactus, my camera eye felt weary.  But then Stu took a close-up of red fingertip buds that popped from one of the tall, slender cacti, and it was a wow! The textured red buds, and the sharp shadows they cast against that green, lush flesh of the cactus, ooh, I had to have them for my very own.

Mexican Fence cactus, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

I took several.

Mexican Fence cactus, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

I was a bit besotted. 

Mexican Fence cactus, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

The sun was wicked bright on the cactus corral and I asked Stu about how he dealt with that because the common wisdom, of course, is that this kind of light doesn't make for good photos. Or better said: This kind of light makes it more difficult to get good photos.

Stu said a past photography instructor told her students: "Don't be a slave to light. Control it." 

Mexican Fence cactus, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

A samurai photographer. I liked it.

Mexican Fence cactus, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Related posts: 

Tohono Chul: Steel Beats



A slide show below of Tohono Chul photos:

Tucson, AZ: Tohono Chul: Steel Beats

University of Arizona Steel Band, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

It has become my habit to spend Sunday afternoons at the Church of Jazz, ministered by the Tucson Jazz Society, where congregants gather at Brother John's.

But yesterday was Easter and I sought something more .... Spiritual? Sedate? Solemn?


Well, hey, the University of Arizona Steel Band was the feature at Tohono Chul Botanical Garden's Sundays in the Garden on Easter afternoon.

Holy beats.

University of Arizona Steel Band, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

The laying on of hands.

University of Arizona Steel Band, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

We congregants sat beneath a living, yellow canopy of falling blossoms. There was a breeze.

University of Arizona Steel Band, Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

This piece, in the band's second set, lifted us into the fresh green leaves above:

Amen.



A slide show of my visits to Tohono Chul below: