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.
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