After the rain has fallen, the desert blushes green. Leaves spring forth from plants so rapidly you’d think you could hear them. Cacti swell along their pleats and the bare ground is coated with a verdant carpet. The water awakens life in the most direct way I have ever witnessed. Nowhere is the transformative, life giving power of water more apparent. Rain here is supposed to be an incredible rarity here, yet it has rained at least once a day since I came to Arizona.
Mesa is nestled among surrounding mountains in a sixty mile wide valley it is part of a massive sprawl that includes Phoenix, Tempe, and Scottsdale. Mesa is like most suburbs with it’s winding streets and shopping centers. The difference is in the design. The people of the southwest seem to be uniquely invested in their locality. Most buildings are either made to look like pueblos, sport hacienda red tiled roofs or are ranch houses. Saguaro cacti are planted in yards alongside palms and citrus trees. If an ornament is chosen for an empty wall or garden, more likely than not it is a Navajo style pot, roadrunner or something similar. Even in the tackiest examples of this decor there is something so pleasantly local about it. You get the sense people genuinely love the land. It is n’t difficult to see why.
I am staying in the home of a retired school teacher named Jo. Jo is an amiable energetic woman who seems to enjoy sharing her home with itinerant performers. She is well versed in the ins and outs of the Mesa school district and is a valuable ally as well as being a font of information. There are two cats that also live here. I am not sure what the gray one’s name is, although she is a friendly enough animal. I am fat better acquainted with the black one. Catty, as the back cat is called has a white bib on her chest and is my constant companion. As I write this she is asleep on the pillow beside me. Since the moment I entered the house, Catty has shown a marked affection towards me. I am seldom in a room for more than ten minutes before she arrives. Needless to say she shares my bed. You don’t know what a comfort such a constant companion can be away from home until you spend a night besides a contentedly purring feline with one whisker tenderly and lovingly nestled in your left nostril.
This morning as I set for our first show, I was struck by the ordinariness of it. The children asked the same questions, the set up was exactly as it always is. A few minor details reminded me of where we were, but by the time the lights were down and I was ready to make my first cue, I could have been performing in New Jersey , Massachusetts , or anywhere. For all the miles of travel the work was the same and everything was comfortably familiar. Five minutes later, the school completely lost power.
-J
Mesa is nestled among surrounding mountains in a sixty mile wide valley it is part of a massive sprawl that includes Phoenix, Tempe, and Scottsdale. Mesa is like most suburbs with it’s winding streets and shopping centers. The difference is in the design. The people of the southwest seem to be uniquely invested in their locality. Most buildings are either made to look like pueblos, sport hacienda red tiled roofs or are ranch houses. Saguaro cacti are planted in yards alongside palms and citrus trees. If an ornament is chosen for an empty wall or garden, more likely than not it is a Navajo style pot, roadrunner or something similar. Even in the tackiest examples of this decor there is something so pleasantly local about it. You get the sense people genuinely love the land. It is n’t difficult to see why.
I am staying in the home of a retired school teacher named Jo. Jo is an amiable energetic woman who seems to enjoy sharing her home with itinerant performers. She is well versed in the ins and outs of the Mesa school district and is a valuable ally as well as being a font of information. There are two cats that also live here. I am not sure what the gray one’s name is, although she is a friendly enough animal. I am fat better acquainted with the black one. Catty, as the back cat is called has a white bib on her chest and is my constant companion. As I write this she is asleep on the pillow beside me. Since the moment I entered the house, Catty has shown a marked affection towards me. I am seldom in a room for more than ten minutes before she arrives. Needless to say she shares my bed. You don’t know what a comfort such a constant companion can be away from home until you spend a night besides a contentedly purring feline with one whisker tenderly and lovingly nestled in your left nostril.
This morning as I set for our first show, I was struck by the ordinariness of it. The children asked the same questions, the set up was exactly as it always is. A few minor details reminded me of where we were, but by the time the lights were down and I was ready to make my first cue, I could have been performing in New Jersey , Massachusetts , or anywhere. For all the miles of travel the work was the same and everything was comfortably familiar. Five minutes later, the school completely lost power.
-J
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