Drones, as defined in middle school, were worker bees who served the Queen, built and maintained the hive, and lived a dronish life.
In high school, drone became a word describing people working in cubicles who did jobs the CEO hadn’t figured out how to eliminate.
Now, much older, drones are flying in my neighborhood, rumored to be delivering packages but mostly collecting data for the C.I.A and Deep State..
Original drones were for hobbyists who moved to them from model airplanes. Drones have flexibility. They can hover, do quick turns, are lightweight, easy to maneuver, and can go places planes can’t. In later incarnations, surveillance cameras were added, and, in warfare, missiles were mounted that could be triggered in Virginia to take out insurgents in Iraq.
These DJI Phantom’s are for sale in Best Buy, not any more expensive than a computer,or a nice camera lens,or big screen TV. In the right hands, drones take breathtaking videos around the world that you can see on You Tube.
The move to make machines to execute our desire for power, pleasure,spying and money intensifies.
Drones are now a reality we are going to be hearing more about, whether we want to, or not.
Technology, as we all know, has lots of plus, and lots of minus.
It is nine in the morning and I see some walkers, a few bicycles, a golf cart, an older lady buttoned up in her custom get about on the Rincon RV Park streets. The speed limit is 10 miles per hour and a familiar saying is posted everywhere –
” Remember, only you can prevent speed bumps. ”
This village, built on land that was first hunted and fished by the Hohokam Indians, has been here since the fifties.
A dedication to the owner, George Leary, by the front office, calls the park his dream. It is now the realization of his many dreams and locals tell me the old man, in his eighties, still patrols the park in an old Ford pickup with tools and PVC pipe in the truck bed.
In the 1100 available spaces are park model homes, crosses between manufactured homes and RV’s, huge motor coaches, fifth wheels and trailers. About two thirds of the spaces are filled with park models, and in the summer, half of these are vacant.
This village has front gate security and enforced rules.
There are no drag races, loitering panhandlers, people sleeping in their cars with a front seat full of eviction papers. You don’t see or hear teens with pants dropped below their butts showing hearts on their undershorts,tattoos and piercings,vehicles with body damage, headlights missing, oil leaks,midnight parties with speakers full blast, drunks singing in the street, soiled pampers thrown in flower beds, shaved heads, profanity.
For those, over 55, who are here, this place is an oasis.
George Leary’s dream resonates.
In the culture wars, it is good to have a retreat where wagons are circled and your guns and bullets and Bibles are close at hand.
Chichita, known by friends and park residents, as ” Bananas, ” met her Maker on February 29th, 2016.
Not over ten pounds, soaking wet, she was a loyal dog, a steadfast alarm system, a roaming nuisance in the Rincon Resort RV Park. She was a mother to some twenty five puppies and, until she was fixed, was a favorite of the boys, especially on D and E streets.
Her owner, Mrs. Mildred Buttercup, found Chichita slumped in a neighbor’s yard and called police but they insisted the death occurred on private property and was out of their jurisdiction.
Chichita, loved by some, hated by some, tolerated by the rest, lived a full and useful life. She knew how to fetch newspapers, bark at the postman, pee on her neighbor’s best roses, and curl up on Mrs. Buttercup’s two thousand dollar couch.
Services were short, and donations to the animal fund can be made at the RV Park’s office with proceeds used to improve the dog run where Chichita should have spent more of her time.
How we do our business, whether human or animal, has consequences and ends that are often messy.
The best way to understand the Sonoran desert is to drive to the end of a dirt road, take no water or matches, leave your phone in the car, don’t tell anyone where you are, wear light clothes and no hat, and hike till you get lost.
The second best way to understand the Sonoran desert is go to a museum and go through its exhibits.
The Sonoran desert starts in Arizona, spills into California and reaches down the entire Mexican Baja peninsula. It has multiple ecosystems and a variety of plants,animals, insects and minerals. Water is scarce but prospectors donkey’s know where to find it, the biggest discovery of all.
This morning, walking through paths notated on visitor maps, Alan and I see coyotes, a caged mountain lion, skunks, saquaros, desert springs,scorpions, barn owls, sun shades fashioned out of rope and netting, a boojam tree, aviary birds,flourescent minerals and underground bats, all part of nature’s bouquet.
We also get to see live wildlife in an auditorium where a skunk, porcupine, macaw, and bull snake are brought out for us to admire while a museum employee answers audience questions and gives nature lectures.
Our macaw is released from one handler’s grasp and flies from the front stage to an attendant’s arm at the back of our auditorium. His wings make a shoo shoo shooing sound as he flies over us and I can hear his beak cracking the peanut his handler gives him after he has completed his task.
This live presentation is a highlight of our morning expedition but two horned toads, embedded in a stuccoed wall at the front of the venue, are also memorable..
They are sharing a quiet moment before the sun goes down, like two brothers remembering baseball home runs in the intersection of Bellamah and Aspen street in Albuquerque, New Mexico in June 1955.
Tennis balls fly a long way when you hit them solid with an authentic Kentucky Slugger hickory bat.
Desert nights get cooler than desert days.
In the winter, day temperatures can rise to the eighties, but, at night, they can drop to the forties. Park models have propane or electric heat and RV’s are not immune from Mother Nature’s mood swings. When the sun drops you need a jacket, a flashlight, and a heater.
” Call this number and put it where the delivery truck can see it, ” are my Tuesday morning instructions at the RV park office.
I am given a four by six inch piece of orange card stock with a place to write my name, my space number, and the date of my request.
ARIZONA PROPANE takes up most of the card space with barely room for their phone number and website. I call, give credit card information, get scheduled for delivery on Wednesday between eight and ten.
Wednesday morning at ten forty five, the delivery truck pulls up and its driver runs a hose to my propane tank, fills it, and writes a ticket for the minimum charge of five gallons and a five dollar service fee. The bill is $20.00.
” That will keep you warm, ” the kid says, as he rolls his supply hose back onto a reel on the back of the company truck.
From my space he pulls across the street and services a three hundred thousand dollar recreational vehicle.
Being warm for twenty bucks is a bargain.
Spending three hundred thousand for anything on wheels seems like a walk on the wild side.
Farmers Markets are popular.
This market, on a Wednesday, opens at nine and features a smattering of produce, vendors selling chili rellenos and rice bowls, massage therapy in a chair, potions and ointments made from cactus and other desert plants, jewelry and yard ornaments,information on real estate and medical insurance.
This morning, happening at the same time and place as the market, is a Rincon Club Photo Session for the Geneology and Pickelball Clubs.
With over a thousand spaces in this park, there are lots of over 55 folks looking to while away spare time. There is a railroad club, metal shop, sewing and quilting hen house. There is ballroom dancing, square dancing, jewelry making, hiking, bird watching. There are clubs for golfers and bridge players and a poker room. You can spend your time in genealogy, archeology, mixology or any theology you like.
Vendors wait for business to pick up today. Many follow a circuit and this is one of many venues where they show their wares during the week.Yard ornaments are well priced with bright colors drawing people like bright flowers attracting pollinating insects.
” The peacock is very nice, ” I comment as an older woman walks gingerly on the grass past me to look at its price tag.
” i know, ” she says wistfully, ” but I’m on a fixed income. ”
This retirement paradise gives me a feeling of loss.
Watching a generation with experience and knowledge and wealth consigning themselves to walks and shuffleboard seems oddly wasteful.
Even old people can’t always afford what they want, or pay dearly for what they think they need.
I should have bought her the peacock but her husband wouldn’t have been too happy about it.
Cactus and the desert work together in Arizona like salt and pepper.
Inside the row after row of RV’s, park model homes, clubhouses and accessory buildings, swimming pool and hot tub, pickle ball and tennis courts, are varieties of cactus. There are upwards of 2000 varieties of the prickly plant spread over the world. Most all of them have shallow root systems, the ability to gulp up water quickly and hold it for future use, and all withstand dry harsh hot climates.
These cactus have been planted, like the palm trees, at strategic locations in this RV resort. Many residents have additionally planted their own little cactus gardens in front of their park model homes also adding ceramic lizards, fountains and colorful potted plants. The largest cactus in this area is the Saquaro that can live 150 years and grow to 15 feet tall and there are many in this park. Saquaro are such special cactus that they are protected by the state government.
If you dig up a saquaro in Arizona you are looking at a fine and jail time. Cactus rustling is now on the books but they won’t hang you for it,yet.
Rustling cactus, on face value, looks like a pretty easy crime, except for the needles. The downside is that selling a stolen cactus to a buyer, in a place they are already plentiful, seems like a bit too much work to make the theft have an upside.
Most people love trains.
Just to the southeast of the main office at Rincon West RV Resort,in Tucson, runs the Rincon Railroad.
Sitting on a little hill, train conductors sit in lawn chairs with wireless controllers and run their trains through their make believe town. A train schedule is posted at the station, and, on this day, an engineer is trying to figure out why his train loses power in the turns. His wife is adding little plastic people to displays of Old West scenes in the miniature town, scenes that are now mostly found in kid’s books.
Trains helped settle the west and in early morning hours, in South Tucson, you hear real train whistles as big boy trains speed through pulling box cars of coal, shipping containers, and empty cattle cars.
In receding light this evening, this choo choo is not running much longer. The conductor and his wife need to fix dinner, sit around their front porch with neighbors talking about old days, listening to Glenn Miller on an old radio prized by antique hounds.
At the Rincon West Railroad Club you take a stroll back in time,
Playing with trains is something little kids and big kids have in common.
By eight in the morning, on a Saturday, a tournament is humming along.
The game is simple enough.
Each player has three discs and a stick. Each turn, a player pushes one of his disks down a slick court with his stick and tries to make his disc stop in one of the scoring areas marked inside a distant triangle. Each disc that stays in the top portion of the triangle is worth ten points. Further towards the base of the triangle, the points awarded are less. A player has to play offense, getting his disc in high scoring areas, and defense, knocking an opponent’s disc out of a scoring area.
” Each court is different, ” one of the onlookers tells me, ” and they break different ways. ”
This is a tournament between the Voyager RV Resort, on the other side of town, and the Rincon Rv Resort.Cursing is kept to a minimum because women are present and all know that tomorrow is another day. As players take their turns, scores are tallied. When the tournament is done there will be certificates awarded and losers will buy beer.
The throwing motion is slow and deliberate. A disc is cradled into the U shaped handle of the stick, the player pauses, takes two steps and leans forward, extends his straightened arm towards the distant triangle. It is a soft motion and the stick, properly used, never leaves the surface of the court. After your throw, you stand back and hope your opponent, who throws after you, doesn’t erase your effort.
This is a game one would think a five year old could play, but they aren’t skilled enough, or devious enough.
Old people might be old, but they aren’t without experience in duplicity.
It takes smarts to get to old age and no one, with any smarts, wants to spend winter in a cold place.
This winter I’m in Arizona again but I don’t try shuffleboard because I’m not old enough, yet.
The N.A.U. auditorium is filled with parents, friends, graduates, speakers, security, and interested observers.
The event is graduation for the 2015 class of NAU Lumberjacks who have spent their last several years sharpening axes, learning to identify trees, and borrowing money to pay for the experience of reading, writing, attending lectures, doing group projects, and getting indoctrinated in a variety of subjects that might or might not lead to paying the rent. There are student loans to be paid, job interviews, moving, trips to Europe.
This is Calley’s Day and she receives, on a snowy day in spring, a Bachelor’s Degree in Business with a specialty in Accounting.
The speeches are dull but there is pomp and circumstance as participants march into the auditorium wearing gowns and caps with tassels and ballooning sleeves and dignitaries give themselves Honorary Degrees and remark on the importance of the occasion and how graduates should be committed to contribution, caring, and consensus. Once it is all over, all file outside to take photos and celebrate.
Graduating from college is still an achievement, even in 2015.
It is good to congratulate a niece, done with class and on her way to a backpack trip to Europe.
Uncle Scott will watch her cat Pickles.
Pickles, we all know, will have a better life, no matter what, and he never had to go to school to get it.
The real surprise is snow in Flagstaff in May.
As everyone we talk to says, with laughter, ” This is so Flagstaff.”
Recent Comments