Rockyroad toast

This past Saturday we held a memorial service for Mom. It was well attended by family and friends. Our cousin Gary, a Methodist minister, officiated and Karin and Peggie each spoke about relationships Mom had with everybody. They were both magnificent.

Afterwards, we gathered at Margie's house. Everybody who wished to was given a cup of cremains, then we set out into the desert to scatter the ashes where Mom said she wanted them. She had enjoyed sitting at the table and watching great grandchildren playing out there, or watching the birds and wild animals, or just watching the weather. On the way back to Tucson, I took a small amount and scattered ashes at the park in Hayden by the swimming pool she enjoyed so much when we lived there. Don and Karin are going to take some to return to Cottonwood Falls, Kansas where she was born.

Mom's sister, Vesta, and three of her boys joined us for rockyroad pie. She didn't drink, but she did eat chocolate, so that was our way of making a final toast to her life and our memories of her.

Can we? What if we do?

Live to be 100 years old, that is.

This is the subject of this winter's UA Science College lectures. Last night was the intro/overview. So it was about the questions and problems that accompany living a long time. I read in Smithsonian that there were 2300 centenarians in U.S. in 195o, but there will be 600,000 in 2050. The total planetary population will be about ten billion. We could be some of them. We were born at the right time. So what do we do with all those years? Will people work longer before retirement if they reasonably expect to live that long? Will there be enough food, water, space? Do you get another career started? Maybe follow a passion?

Well, it is fun to think about. The lecture series will be interesting.

We went jeepin'!

As predicted, Karin found stuff to keep her busy in the studio. She and Peggie played and played.

And played.

Don and I played, too.

One day we explored the mountains southeast of Patagonia. This is an area of illegal trafficking in both drugs and people. Therefore, I avoid it when I am alone. BP trucks were everywhere. We spoke with them to make sure we weren't about to wander into a bust or anything. We found some good back-country roads, and once the clouds lifted, we got some spectacular views from on high. We spotted three deer. This area was extensively mined between the late 1800's and mid 1900's. There are a lot of dangerous shaft openings, but plenty of roads, also.

The next day, we decided to drive the San Pedro River to see all the saguaros and to check out some two-tracks. We chose a two-track at random and hit paydirt. It went way up into the Galiuro Mountains. That is pronounced Ga-lehr-o. The road had been etched by a bulldozer sometime in the far distant past. It's purpose was to provide access to grazing land and water sources. We found a two room adobe at a long abandoned windmill. We went and went. Finally, we passed through the sixth gate and discovered vehicle tracks we had not previously noted. That meant we could continue and find a new way out. It is always better if you don't have to backtrack. The goal is to keep seeing new things. We saw a few cattle, but only one deer. She literally flew across the trail in front of us. So fast that by the time Don said, "Deer." she was gone. The cliffs and canyons back there were spectacular. Once back on the river road, we spotted a many armed saguaro. One arm looked suspiciously like a tertiary. So I crawled under the fence to see the far side. Sure enough, a primary arm had broken off about a foot from the trunk, a secondary arm sprouted and took the 'mammoth's tusk' route around to the other side. Then, near the end, a small round tertiary arm is sprouting. Now, I believe I mentioned earlier that tertiary arms occur only on otherwise traumaed (that probably isn't a word) saguaros. This one had the broken primary, 'mammoth tusk' secondary, and the main trunk divided near the top, then one of the divisions divided again. So in keeping with my premise, this is an unusual saguaro in more than one way.

Anyway, on the way out to Benson, I mentioned that there was a road across the foot of the mountains that came out in Willcox. Don decided we should take that road the next day. He remembered flying low over the Sulfur Springs Valley and seeing lots of fields that are not visible from the freeway. So on day three, we headed down to take that road. It cuts across the south end of the Galiuros and north of the Little Dragoons. It stretches out across a wide grassy valley that is a branch of the broad Sulfur Springs Valley. We took a side road to Muleshoe Ranch which took us into the foothills again. We were disappointed not to see the antelope (pronghorns) that should have been in the grasslands. We were amused to see a FedEx truck returning from a delivery into the boondocks. That was the only traffic we encountered. After lunching at the old dining car turned BBQ place in Willcox, we headed north to see the dreaded Fort Grant. When we were growing up, Fort Grant was the juvenile prison to which one did not wish to be sent. Then we took a cutoff over to US 191 south of Safford and returned to I 10 that way.

When we got home I got out my 1881 Arizona map and confirmed my suspicion that the roads we had been on dated from stagecoach travel.

So it was a fun three days all around.

And no "adventures" to dampen our adventures.

What's been going on.

You will remember that we found a caribou antler on one of our mountain forays this past summer. We decided that it could best be utilized by carving it up. Peggie can use pieces of it in her art work, plus whatever else we decide.

One of the things we thought of was to have Greg Welden carve some spoons. He does a lot of that in wood, and we have one he carved from a piece of driftwood we sent him. So Greg and Amy came for a visit and he and I started cutting away at the antler. The scoop at the bottom of the photo was a day's worth of cutting, scraping, and sanding for Greg. The other pieces are what I did with saw, Drexel, and sandpaper. We have other pieces, but this is the best photo. The wooden platter was also a gift from Greg.

Altogether, we had a wonderful visit. We even used that antler scoop for salsa, and it worked just fine.

Don and Karin are staying in Cottonwood until the end of the month. We will have a service for Mom on the 28th. Meantime, D and K are going to spend a few days with us. Don and I will do some jeepin' Southern Arizona style. Peggie and Karin might be able to occupy themselves in the studio.

Philosophy 101: Why is it when some close to you dies, and you are going through their things, you keep wanting to ask them questions about stuff, now that it is too late?

I think what we should all do, is go through each others stuff now, while we are still around to answer questions. Too bad if you see something you want, though. You can't have it yet.

Rest in Peace, Mom

Everyone fills a number of roles as they go through life.

My mother, Elizabeth, is no exception.

She began life as a daughter, and simultaneously a sister to two older siblings. Eventually three additional siblings rounded out the family. I suppose, she was also a niece at that time, but since her parents brought their young family halfway across the country, she was never physically close to her aunts, uncles, and cousins. She grew into a beautiful young woman who attracted the attention of a cowboy from Scottsdale. She became a wife. That brought with it the roles of daughter-in-law and sister-in-law. She became a mother. And an aunt. Her four children grew up and married, making her a mother-in-law. They had children and she took on the role of grandmother and, finally, great grandmother. GG.

She has been very good in every role. I have no doubt she was still a wonderful daughter right to the end. She lived her life in such a way as to never bring disappointment or embarrassment to parents, siblings, husband, children, grandchildren, or great grandchildren. She is, truly, universally loved by all who knew her.

She passed quietly in her sleep early this morning. Twenty-two years, to the day, since the death of her husband, my father.