Where were you?

It was on this day in 1963 that John Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas. I remember the day very well. It was a Friday afternoon in Mr. Hobart's third grade class. Closing up a social studies unit on clothing, he had allowed the girls to bring their Barbie dolls to school for a fashion show. About 40 minutes before school was dismissed, one of the teachers called Mr. Hobart into the hallway. He came back in and leaned over to pick up something off the floor. I remember that his face turned very red. The principal came on the intercom to make the announcement. Kids were upset. Teachers were trying to keep it together. I remember Arthur Reno coming to the bus wiping tears from his eyes.

Television was nothing but news for the entire weekend. We watched the plane land in Washington with the President's body. We watched the flag draped casket in the Rotunda. We missed seeing the moment when Oswald was shot because it happened while we were at church. Monday was declared a national day of mourning. In a surprising move, considering how isolated the church of Christ can be when it comes to other than congregational issues, the church announced there would be a memorial service. In a really surprising move, considering how much my parents did not like Kennedy, our family attended.

TV went back to normal the on Tuesday. Thursday was Thanksgiving. We soon learned about a country in Southeast Asia called Viet Nam. Or, at least the kids in Mr. Hobart's class. As we grew up through those years, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were killed. Some of my classmates lost brothers in Viet Nam. We would battle hair and dress codes. Some would battle drug addiction. There was the Summer of Love, Woodstock, and, well......watching the Monkees on Monday night. The pill, going off to New York for an abortion, hitching around the country. Things were different for Mr. Hobart's class and the rest of our generation.

Empress of Tucson

Tucson sits firmly in the heart of Baja Arizona and the Border Region. I’ve noticed a few things about living here. First, although business is conducted in both Spanish and English, our children are not required to be fluent in any language but the latter. I’ve often said, to anyone who will listen, that when I become Empress of Tucson that I will mandate that every child become fluent in both languages. No exceptions. Second, because this is the Border Region, our teacher education programs from San Diego to Houston need to reflect that. The University of Arizona doesn’t really do that, but it’s not alone. We need to belly up to the border with hands outstretched to our fellow educators across the border. One final thing. I have never heard of a field trip or a student exchange program from Tucson to anywhere in Mexico. Granted, there are all kinds of church youth groups dashing across the border to do some sort of project on summer mission trips. These are well meant, but the kids usually don’t mix it up much with the locals.

Since we live in the Border Region, why not make it work for us? It would be a whole lot cheaper than building that horrible wall.

Gabby Marries Mark

Our Congressional Representative, the Honorable Gabrielle Giffords wed her long time love, spaceman/Commander Mark Kelly yesterday at the pumpkin patch in Amado. The chupa was “vibed” in by a Mariachi band. The bride was resplendent in a borrowed Vera Wang gown. They wanted a light eco-footprint of a wedding. I just wanted to know whose Wang? There was a four man honor guard with crossed sabers. Chuck was disappointed that she didn’t ask him. His saber is in the garage. Just needs a bit of a polish. Of course, I’m not sure how he would look in his uniform since he let his hair grow out.

They had a quite courtship. First of all, they met in China. She as an AZ State Legislator and he as an astronaut. Their first date was to the Arizona State Prison in Florence. Yeah, that’s what I said, too! First kiss was at the Club Congress (in the Congress Hotel) downtown. That’s where John Dillinger stayed when he was hiding out in Tucson. Maybe they had dinner there after touring the prison? Commander Kelly proposed to Gabby at the Naval Academy during Homecoming. He lives in Houston and she lives in DC and Tucson.

So, Mark and Gabby, best wishes, long life and love.

Driving in Tucson

I recently read Brian Nicklaus’ blog entry about driving in New Jersey. It’s all true. I know that for a fact because I learned to drive across the river in Bucks County, PA. We all thought that New Jersey drivers were the worst. I will say this about driving in New Jersey, I’d cross the river again just to have someone pump gas in my car at the Wawa.

Driving in Tucson has its ups and downs.

1. According to John Ensey, progeny of my friend Rose, if you maintain a constant speed of 37 MPH on Speedway [great name for a main cross town street BTW] you won’t get stopped by a red light. You might get stopped by the SUV in front of you that’s waiting for the light to change [for the 3rd time], though. John figured this out when he was about 13 years old.

2. Tucson drivers will not let you merge. The reason for this is that they assume that any car they let get in front of them is going to slow them down so they get to their destination approximately 15 seconds later.

3. Rain is to Tucson what ice and snow are to drivers from other states. We live in the desert here, so when we get rain, we tend to get a lot of it in a very short period of time. This causes flooding. It’s best to hold up where you and wait for a while. There are those people who will insist on entering a flooded wash and have to be rescued. The local news crews film these drivers and their cars so your friends and co-workers get to see your adventure on the evening news. If that isn’t bad enough, you get a bill for the rescue.

4. Parking. Park in the shade if you can find it. However, if parking at Target where the trees are at the far end of the lot, you could pass out from heat exposure before you have time to sprint to the front door and the AC.

5. The Cross Town Freeways. The WHAT!!!!! Don’t have them. The idea behind this is that the old timers [hippies who relocated from the north during the ‘60’s] think that if they continue to vote against building freeways or light rail systems that it will keep people from moving here and turning the place into Phoenix. That was about 850,000 residents ago.

6. Driving to Phoenix. Those of us who live on the east side of town have to drive a good 40 minutes just to get to I10. Once we’re on this strip of asphalt it’s one dangerous drive to the Kingdom of Maricopa [aka, Phoenix]. There are 18 wheelers, drug runners, vans full of border crossers sans documents, granma and granpa with their RVs and one or two idiots in a hurry. Once you get to Phoenix you will think you some how went too far and are in LA.

7. Crossing the border to Mexico. Piece of cake. Just a quick trip down I19 [the only highway in the US that gives distances in kilometers] and cross on into downtown Nogales. Don’t forget your Mexican insurance. Crossing back into the US...... 3 hours of stop and go through downtown Nogales. [see previous blog entry]

Borders and People Who Cross Them

I read recently that Canadians have started crossing the border into the US to shop since the Loonie has gained against the dollar. I see Mexican cars from Sonora and Chihuahua in Tucson every day. The economy in Tucson depends on Mexican shoppers.

But what about shopping in Nogales? The only shopping I ever hear of is for medications that people can’t afford in the US. Recently Chuck and I spent a weekend in San Carlos. It was Labor Day when we came home. All went well until we tried to cross at the International crossing [where the trucks cross]. The toll taker said the wait time was 2 hours. So, we backed out of line and headed for the border crossing in downtown Nogales. It ended up taking over 3 hours and 1/4 tank of gas to cross back into the US. We’d already paid $10 a day for Mexican insurance. Apparently the long wait in Nogales is more common than not.

I can’t help but think that US citizens would go to Mexico to shop if it weren’t so difficult to do so. The English make shopping forays on day trips to France and vice versa. The Danish drive for items they can get cheaper in Germany. In fact, all over Europe, where there is a border, people cross it to shop. We lived near the theater in Stuttgart where the German production of “Miss Saigon” is performed. Every evening there is a long parade of coaches from the other German speaking countries full of people eager to see the show in the new, state of the art, theater. And, it’s sold out for years to come.

We worry too much about what is wrong with the border. It can be a scary, frightening place. Yet, there is much that we can gain from living an hour away from another sovereign nation. We can shop for bargains. Attend festivals, art shows, religious observances. We might just happen to make friends along the way. But, we need to have more efficient crossing points. It shouldn’t take 3 hours to cross the between two nations who are friendly neighbors. I suggest keeping the downtown Nogales crossing, especially for those who want to walk across the border. However, how about another crossing for POVs?

Election Time

The polls will not be open for me [what about the poles, though?] next month because I live in the county and not in the City of Tucson. So, I am turning my thoughts toward 2008. I have the Bush Count Down Meter on my FaceBook, ticking away the nano-seconds. I have been listening to candidates. All of them. I’m leaning toward Hillary. She has some interesting thoughts about our lack of health care that is nearly as scandalous to other developed nations as our use of capitol punishment. Obama lacks experience and has been too busy bad mouthing his own party’s other candidates. John-Boy has a sick wife. Bill Richardwho? Why is Biden wasting money? Did Kucinich ever stop running in 2004? [long enough to get married, apparently. Still doesn’t make him any taller] Now, in the worst case scenario [if a Republican does get elected, who would I mind the least?] that AZ senator is out, Mitt is too Morman perfect familywifewiththeblondhair and why are none of his kids serving in the Armed Forces? [Oh! that’s right. They’re rich. They don’t have to risk their lives to pay for college, or even pay the rent] Ron Paul wants to bring the troops home, but then what? Mike Huckabee is a Baptist minister, so presumably if he is elected the Nation will be in the hands of the Southern Baptist Convention. Fred Thompson is a closet church of Christ member, so should I be campaigning for him? Send my yellow dog to the pound? Naw. Don’t think so.

An Exclusive Club

Working for a Ph.D. is like joining a club. Not like joining the art club or the chess club, but one of those exclusive clubs. One must go through a series of initiation activities and present the club with a gift. This gift must be something they've never seen or heard before and they have to like it.

The first step is setting up a committee. I was advised to chose professors who will help me get where I want to go. Namely a dais at the UofA with a bunch of people wearing academic regalia. While selecting my committee I had the feeling that I’d done this before. Indeed I had! This is like choosing bridesmaids. This becomes more evident when one of them turns on you during your qualifying exam.

At this point, I have 3 more courses to take, comprehensive exams, write a thesis for my minor, an internship, then my research followed by a dissertation. It seems like my classmates know what they are doing, but I don’t. I have some ideas, though.

One possible research question is “Can the writings of Tupac Shakur change perceptions that female, pre-service white teachers have of Mexican American urban culture?” No one expects white middle aged women to do this sort of research......it’s like the Spanish Inquisition. However, I find 2Pac intriguing. While I used to blow him off as a ghetto punk Elvis, I find that he had a lot to say and said it. Could his writings have a beneficial influence on sorority girls who can’t get a sentence across without using the word “like”? Perhaps.