NEW RELEASES
A Southwestern Fable
My Honey and I decided to take the kids for a hike today. I don’t know what we were thinking, except that I made darn sure they didn’t have any breadcrumbs in their pockets when we left the house. Basically, we were probably just looking for an opportunity to yell at our kids outside.
It was a really beautiful Southwestern day. It was somewhere in the mid 60s with bright, blue skies with an occasional fluffy cloud. When we first got there, we purchased tram tickets to ride up to the top of the canyon but decided to do some walking first. I casually mentioned that once when I was a kid, a long, long time ago, I had vomited on the tram. I must have had an upset stomach at the time. I really don’t remember the incident well, except that it was blueberry pancakes and I was around 8 years old.
We had a nice walk down the canyon. The creek was running so there were small waterfalls and the kids enjoyed the nature. We met up with the tram when we made our way back to the pavement and rode all the way to the top. The kids played with binoculars and we saw cool rock formations, birds and even a white tailed deer. We met and spoke with interesting people and even experienced other cultures. Mostly it was a nice day.
Later this evening, I hear them playing “Tram” in the hall. Sassy is saying, “Stop 1, that’s a Mesquite or Ironwood tree” and “Stop 2, that’s a Palo Verde tree” in an official sounding voice. Then I hear the bandit, “Driver, stop! I have to throw up!”
This is what they got from the whole experience. When their mother was 8, she puked on the tram. Deep sigh.
Several years ago, we took my husband’s brother and mother to Sabino Canyon while they were here for a visit. We did the tram, and walked a while. It was a beautiful Arizona day–sunny and clear, and maybe a little bit too warm for the people from Atlanta. They still enjoyed it, though.
As we were preparing to leave, my brother-in-law decided to buy some t-shirts for his kids. The gentleman selling the shirts was from India.
“Are you Indian?” Alan asked the man.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Well, what tribe are you from?” Alan asked in all seriousness.
My husband gently took Alan’s elbow and steered him away from the table of t-shirts, and the vendor with an absolutely stunned look on his face. We raced him to the car and went home.
With the exception of my husband, and his crazy sister (she is the oldest of the three girls in the family)his family are fundamentalists who don’t stray outside their own little cloistered existence. They go to church a lot, don’t take the paper, and only watch one cable news program, and sports. Oh, and his mother watches “Pride and Prejudice” every Sunday night. When they do venture out into the real world, they are in awe of what they see.
As my brother-in-law was leaving to go back to Atlanta and his chiropractic practice, he said to us, “You know, I really should get out more. This has been fun!”
They should get out more, but they won’t.