arizona: a gated community

Most people probably know that Arizona was once part of Mexico. The U.S. acquired most of Arizona at the end of the Mexican-American War and then the southern part of the state in the Gadsden Purchase. Sometime in the 1900s snowbirds began descending upon Arizona. These mostly white people from the frozen north were not only escaping the weather but big city problems. They came from cities like Detroit, Milwaukee, Chicago. They were searching for a clean slate with which to paint their utopias. They turned the desert green by building dams and borrowing water so they could have lawns and golf courses. They created the huge sprawl that is Phoenix. They built gated communities where residents were mostly white and all were over the age of 55. Mexicans watered those lawns, maintained the courses, worked in the assisted living centers, did the dishes at the local Chinese buffet.

And now those northern immigrants want to turn the whole state of Arizona into a gated community. They started on the southern border by building a fence between Arizona and Mexico. Their next move is to rid the state of all but the most necessary Mexicans. They'll make it look as though they're going after illegal immigrants but their hope is that most of the Hispanics in the state will get so pissed off that they will leave - even though their families have been in Arizona for fucking ever.

The politicians in Arizona will build a fence between Arizona and California, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico. The citizens will vote not to pay taxes on things like schools and universities so those will close thus ridding the state of college-aged and younger people. Young families won't be able to move to Arizona, what with no schools, so eventually the northern immigrants will have what they want: a state of old white people (disclaimer: i can use that insensitive phrase "old white person" because i am an old[ish] white person).

But a place can survive only so long with just a population of senior citizens. When they die off, buildings will crumble, the saguaro and mesquite will reclaim the land, and some day the Mexicans will come back and take down that wall.

arizona: love the state; hate the politcs

SB1070 is not a racist bill. Gov. Brewer swears she is not a racist. Hell, she wouldn't know an Illegal Immigrant if she saw one. This is all about catching people who are breaking the law. I commend the governor and state representatives for their efforts and would like to help them out. So here are some tips for going after other people who are breaking the law in Arizona.

Pot smokers. As far as I know it's still against the law to smoke pot in Arizona so if I were the cops, and I was looking to bust people who are breaking the law, I'd go after pot smokers. In order to help the police pull over suspected pot smokers, I'll give them a description of your average pot smoker in oh, say, Arivaca or Bisbee: pretty much the whole towns. But to narrow it down, in Bisbee hang out at the park and pick up that homeless hippie guy with the dogs. I mean, you can smell the pot from the balcony at the Copper Queen Hotel. Then I'd go to the Food Co-op in either town and search just about everyone there. I'd demand to see the pockets and backpacks of anyone over the age of 60 who has gray hair and looks as though they could've been a flower child or radical in the 1960s and early 1970s.

Tweakers. Surely the police know how to spot meth addicts - that constant motion, the sores on the skin, the missing teeth. If I were a cop, I'd be hitting the mean streets of trailer parks scattered throughout southern Arizona. I'd look for trailers and mobile homes with insulation or plywood over the windows. I'd look for a chained-up pit bull.

And while the police are in the trailer parks, they should ask to see everyone's drivers licenses to look for the people who are driving with revoked licenses. These people are a little more difficult to profile but, again, trailer parks are good jumping-off spots.

Drunk driving. This is easy. Retirees in Arizona have a 4 o'clock cocktail hour ritual so I recommend the cops visit Sun City, maybe hang out in front of golf courses. Look for old people recklessly driving golf carts, not only at the golf courses but in their communities, at Safeway or Ace Hardware.

Wow, there are so many other law breakers - tax evaders, jay walkers, shop lifters - that I don't have the time to go into all that right now. Suffice it to say, if Arizona is serious about keeping Arizona safe, the cops should be pulling over just about every one of every color of every age.

judging topes crossings

Topes are speedbumps and they are everywhere in Mexico. Because most vehicles come to almost a complete stop before crossing a tope, topes are good places for vendors selling everything from beans to parrots. You do not want to hit a tope at full speed - especially in an RV or towing an Airstream. So a diligent driver is always on the lookout and if there is a passenger in the car, they will usually shout out "tope" to the driver just in case she/he has missed the sign. Hell, I yell out "tope" even when it's just me in the car!

When I first got to this little town there were no topes. But then spring break started getting rowdier and rowdier and so the people down in the fancy strip where the "juniors" (aka diablos) hang out threw fits and thus were born four topes. This year the town put in temporary topes which are bumps nailed into the pavement. There are now 15 topes through town. It looks like they're going to be here all summer. Gosh, I hope not forever because the topes do what they're meant to do: slow traffic to a crawl. Usually.

My friend from one of the mountain states up north is here and so yesterday we took his sandrail down to the strip for french fries and margaritas at Taco Bar. I had no idea so many tourists were in town this weekend. We sat outside and just our luck there was a tope right in front of Taco Bar. Woohoo! This was going to be exciting.

And it was! We judged people on their tope crossings. Did they go at it full bore? Did they creep up and over the tope? Did they hit it at an angle? Did they even see it? Our winning speed crosser was a big 4x4 silver truck with a bedload of passengers. That truck sailed across the tope at a higher than posted speed limit and not one person bounced out of the truck. We gave him a ten. The beat-up pickup loaded with cucumbers crossed slowly, easily, and not one cucumber tumbled out. A woman in a little red Nissan was too busy talking on her phone. She drove over the tope as though it wasn't there. Two motor scooters went by at reasonable speeds and aimed at paths between the bumps. If they didn't hit it just right and a tire should rub against one of the tope bumps, the scooter would've gone done.

College-aged kids waved at us and waved their beers as they drove by. Families smiled shyly. It was as though we were a float in the parade - the queen and king - but we weren't the ones moving. We returned waves. We cheered. We gave thumbs downs or ups.

Next weekend we're going to park the sandrail at the first tope. We think it will be more fun to see the action where people may not be expecting a tope. Also, a lot of people take that tope at an angle so we'll add that to our judging criteria. We'll turn the sandrail into a mini bar, bring along folding chairs and score cards. It will be like the Olympics of tope-ing.

senior citizens smoke pot

Everyone I know who smoked pot when they were younger still smoke pot as old farts (unless they turned Republican). The surprising bit to me is how many senior citizens smoke pot daily, even here in RV/snowbird land. Some RVing snowbirds smoke pot all day long in their rigs which is evidenced by their mellow demeanor and droopy eyelids as they emerge from their RVs for four o'clock happy hour. Now that certainly is not typical of RVers who mostly prefer getting shitfaced to getting high.

I had mentioned in an earlier post that on the fourth of July a couple years back when I lived in the only blue dot in all of Arizona that some senior citizen lady made pot brownies that knocked us on our asses for the entire day. The Landlord and I kind of stumbled from our trailers to ooh and ahh over the fireworks then stumbled back to our beds. I swore I'd never eat pot brownies again. Well, I did end up eating pot brownies again down here with some RVing senior citizens. I had to do it because it was so much like being the bad kids in Catholic school - smoking cigarettes in the girls' room or skipping class or making out with a boyfriend in the janitor's closet.

My friend didn't have the ingredients for brownies but she did have chocolate cake mix. There were about six of us gathered at 8 in the morning for coffee, Baileys, and "chocolate cake." One of the people who joined us was a Canadian who had never smoked pot or eaten it. This would be his first experience at 70 years old. We were very careful not to offer cake to passers-by, not wanting some old fart to think they were having a stroke or something.

We ate our cake, drank our coffee, went to our homes on wheels. I didn't see anyone for the rest of the day. The cake wasn't as intense as the brownies but it sure made moving around difficult. The Canadian didn't show up for four o'clock happy hour. The next day he said he didn't think he felt much until it was obvious that he couldn't leave his trailer. I never did find out if his wife knew of his pot experience.

To all you young'uns out there my hope is that some day you'll hear your grandma say "Why back in the day, smoking maryjane was illegal" and you'll moan and say, "Please, grandma, we've heard you say that before. Now pass me that joint."

the vasectomy monologues

I was going to do a series of posts on things that may be surprising for younger people to know about senior citizens but I didn't write the list down so I forgot what was on it. That is not a surprising senior citizen trait. However, because this is fresh in my mind, here's one I do remember: We've been talking about penises a lot lately.

It all started a couple weeks ago when seemingly out of nowhere Willie broke his femur. The biggest damn bone in the human body just broke, snapped apart. Not only did that delay Willie and his wife's return to the U.S. (they were due to leave the next day) but ever since the surgery his wife's been bragging about her husband's new 12 inch steel shaft. I said I hoped we didn't see her humping his leg at some point.

Last night at happy hour - a common senior citizen/snowbird activity - I was surprised to learn that 100 percent of the men present - all three of them - had vasectomies. Each man described his procedure and his reaction to it. Peter was told by a friend that he was able to "get off a round" the very next day. Peter thought he'd give it a shot but when he looked down and realized that his body was black and blue from his chest to his thighs, decided "no way, Jose." Willie said he pushed himself up on his elbows so he could watch. Are you fucking kidding me? Dick said he looked for the cheapest doctor and Peter said he didn't think he'd want to spare expenses when it came to that.

I'm more accustomed to sitting with women as they rehash childbirth, hysterectomies, and describe orgasms. This was truly a new - and in a weird way - refreshing change. I was also impressed that these macho men had done something that a lot of men were afraid to do. Remember, these are senior citizens and vasectomies were relatively new procedures back in the day.

So there you go, surprising senior citizen fact: 100 percent of the senior citizen gringos in this little park on the Sea of Cortez have had vasectomies.

semana santa #3

This is undoubtedly the best time to be here in this little beach town - spring break. The week before Easter, the families are here. The week following Easter, the "juniors" arrive - wealthy college kids. This fishing village becomes a miniature Lake Havasu, Ft. Lauderdale, Seaside. Last week the street cleaner showed up to clean all seven paved streets and to stir up walls of dust on the unpaved roads. Truckloads of policia pulled in yesterday - handsome men with big guns. Sonoran hot dog carts have popped up as though washed up from the sea. Freshly painted homes, store fronts, palapa restaurants.

Following the crowds to the far end of the beach. Normally a 15-minute drive. This took over an hour.

Last night I pulled my chair over to the seawall. Down below two young men had just rolled the biggest joint I've seen since, oh, 1978. They looked up and I said "esta bien. no problemo" and they smiled and waved and coughed as they walked away. A group of boys played soccer. A mom and her kids batted balls around with racquets. Teenagers ripped up the beach on ATVs. Two young people played grab-ass in the sea. The ice cream truck has returned with his endless blaring of "Popeye the Sailorman".

The weather is perfect. Even the bobitos (gnats) are behaving.

This is my favorite time here. So lively and celebratory and loud and colorful. Viva Mexico! Let the party begin.

death in mexico

Lately I've been wondering what happens when a foreigner dies in a foreign country. Say, for instance, I die in Mexico. I have a little more information now because, sadly, a very nice older gringo died here two nights ago.

A thing you would think we would all know is the Mexican equivalent of 9-1-1. Not so! (We know now; it's 0-6-6.) One of the trailer park residents figured it would be faster to drive over to the Red Cross/police station so that's what he did and they followed him back to the park.

I was told that everyone from the EMTs to the police were very nice, very gentle, very kind, and very robust which meant they had a difficult time fitting into the RV. Not only that, but they had a hard time getting the gurney in and out the camper door.

For about an hour the dead man lay on the floor, his wife and friends chatting over his body while the police et al filled out paperwork. Then the coroner arrived. In the coroner's wake were two people from competing mortuaries -coroner chasers I guess you could call them. Both gave the wife bids for their services. That might seem a little crass but it sure speeded up the process. She settled on cremation by Mortuary A which will run somewhere around $600.

The next day the wife went to the big city to fill out the paper work and her husband's ashes will be returned to the park in a day or two.

To my daughter: You better get your passport in case you need to make an emergency run to Mexico. My neighbor has your email address, phone number, and key to my trailer should I not appear for a few days. I'd like some of my ashes sprinkled here in the Sea of Cortez and some in southern Arizona. You can keep a few to glue onto a windchime or something if you'd like. Mix them with glitter. The hitch is in the bodega so you can tow the Airstream out. Or if you don't want it, see if my friend Edgar and his family want it.

Will that last paragraph work as a will? If not, I better get on that, too. I mean, not that I'm expecting to die soon but as a single person living alone, these are things I know I should take care of.