Arizona

Growing up in small town and rural north western Pennsylvania, I never imagined ever seeing Arizona, let along living here.  My family didn't travel much.  I remember a couple of trips to my Mom's friend Maxine's in or around Detroit, MI.  I remember a few trips to Pittsburgh, PA to visit my stepfather's sister, Mary.  We even moved there for about one year when I was 8 years old.  That was culture shock for all of us.  We lived in a high rise apartment on Brookline Blvd.  It probably wasn't a "high rise", but I remember my nose pressed against the window of my bedroom, looking down at the cars below and thinking they looked like Matchbox cars.  My mother hated it, so in one short year, we moved back to small town Franklin; and then a few months later, into the country 9 miles south.  So, newly married and moving across the state and up into the Hudson Valley of  New York State was more than I imagined in my childhood. And certainly,  moving across the country as a young married woman with 3 children was really far from what I imagined in my life. Yet, I think there might have been some deep seeded wanderlust going on in my heart.  Whenever we would venture beyond visiting family for a vacation, I found myself falling in love with everything I saw.  Whether it was seeing the ocean for the first time or going to Maine or South Carolina or the mountains of New York State or even New York City...I always loved it. 

When Ron came home one day in the early 80's and said that a possible transfer to Tucson, Arizona was being discussed, I was floored.  I had always told him that I would move anywhere before the kids were in school, but after that I didn't want to uproot them.  Yet, here was the opportunity to see another part of the country and it was a good opportunity for his career.  So, I asked if I could go along for what they called his "survey trip".  I said I just didn't think I could go that far without seeing it.  I envisioned the Sahara Desert and spiders and snakes crawling along the sidewalks. I was sure my children would be eaten in the night by some desert creature. 

It was approved and I was allowed to go on the "survey" trip with Ron to Tucson.  Wow!  This was culture shock. But, it wasn't the Sahara Desert like I thought.  It was beautiful.  Sure it was HOT!  It was early July and it was actually steamy with the monsoon rains, but still not muggy and unbearably humid like it was in the east in July.  I loved the swaying palm trees.  I loved the cacti...especially the towering majestic Saguaros.  I did not have a clue how to pronounce any of the vegetation. I won't even embarrass myself by telling you how I pronounced Saguaro.  Use your imagination. I especially loved the mountains that surrounded the city. I was told those were the Catalina Mountains to the north...the Rincons to the east...the Santa Ritas to the south and the Tucson on the west.  I was immediately drawn to the Catalinas.  They took my breath away every time I saw them. 

We went to various restaurants and even had a lady show us some houses just in case we moved here.  We drove around ourselves, exploring the area.  We took in as much as we could in a few days.  The Tucson International Airport is small and in those days (1981), you still had to walk out on the tarmac and up stairs to the airplane.  As I walked up those stairs to board our plane back to NY, I stopped midway and gazed over at the Catalinas to the north and I knew I would be back.  I just had that gut feeling, even though we had not really discussed or discerned about our decision yet.  The Catalinas had already taken me into their arms.  They were not going to let me go then and I they won't now.

This is a view from a few miles up Mt. Lemmon Highway from our house.  This is the road that leads you to the Catalina Mountains.  This is a view from those Catalinas looking into the sun setting over the Tucson Mountains.  This kind of sums it up as to how these mountains capture your heart and won't let go.  I can't imagine living any other place in the entire world.