Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Tucson, Arizona

When I left Tucson about three years ago, I was never going to return. It’s a great little town, but I had some hard times growing up here. Every street was filled with negative associations. It’s an odd feeling being back here, because while here is still the same, I am not.
I know this place, I’ve cruised these streets since I was 14. Its smells and its people are familiar. There is also a re-birth for me coming back here, and for the town itself. Downtown is going through a much needed renovation, a gentrification without losing the Old Pueblo charm. Ed loves it here, he tells me that everyday. The desert speaks to him, the air is easier to breath, and then the monsoons roll in for the afternoon and cool everything down. My heart is here, too. The wisps of wind will dry the sweat from my shirt, and the sunsets over the jagged Tucson Mountains will shoot out waves of orange, pink and reds. I remember what I like about the desert.
The Universe has seen us move into a great little home, in a great location. And true to our charge, we have begun to seek out the various local movements we want to help advance. We have been going to community meetings and social mixers. There are several avenues worth exploring. LocalFirstAZ is an organization that seeks to promote local businesses while educating the consumer about the benefits of keeping your dollars local. We have looked up where all the farmers markets pop up around town, and met a few local ranchers that only sell their beef in Tucson. We live down the street from a community radio station that Ed is going to volunteer at.
Finally, a lot of my family is here. As I told Ed, after spending six months with his parents, my family doesn’t seem so bad. I have my differences with my family, but hopefully, I have learned how to bury the hatchet.
All in all, it’s good to be Home.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Back by popular demand

So it’s been over a month. I have been feeling my fingers itch for the keyboard. But I’m not sure what I’m talking about yet. The Airstream is sold. There is nothing left on the farm to give away that we once lived there. As we drove away from there for the last time, Ed towing the U-haul, me following in the Prius, I felt the nightmare dissolve behind me, as I awoke and began to notice the beauty of sunlight scattered by the clouds.
We’ve been gone for a month and in a way I don’t even remember being there at all, maybe those six months never happened. But I have a few permanent scars that remind me of where I’ve been.
Ed’s daughter was with us for 3 weeks, and we eventually dropped her off in LA. We spent a few days in LA ourselves with some good friends. We walked past our old apartment, ate at my favorite bagel shop, re-stomped the old stomping grounds. The surreal feeling of familiarity, the roads and the shops, but LA is no longer home. I loved being there, but I’m glad we did not try to move back there.
We settled in Tucson, AZ. Back to my roots. It’s a great place, and I have friends and family here. Ed commented on how we can’t go anywhere without me running into someone I know. It’s nice to have a city around us. We live in a little guest house downtown, which puts us in walking distance of everything we could need. I plan on being a pedestrian as much as possible. Ed and I are determined to get involved in the local community and local economy. We will not let all the knowledge we acquired and the opinions we formed lay dormant. The local food movement and neighborhood connections will find great advocates in us.
I need to change the name of this blog, if I’m going to continue it, which I plan on doing. Beverly Hills to Hillbillies doesn’t apply any longer. I think it will be named ‘The Instant Local’ but that name still needs to make it through the committee. And I’m also working on expanding the BH to HB story, filling in the details and eventually publish it as a book. I have always felt I have a book or two in me.
In the meantime, here we are again, starting from scratch, hoping to get our lives in order. The task of a lifetime.