Even the present can be a foreign country.
Before Christmas we drove out to Eagar, Arizona, to lay a wreath on our daughter’s grave. Afterwards we visited my grandmother who lives in Taylor, another Arizona small town. She’s housebound. While we were there, a young lady stopped by to ask my grandmother if she needed any groceries.
From what my grandmother says, she always does this, this young lady, so I went to the door and thanked her. “It’s no problem,� she said. “Besides, I’m your aunt’s second cousin by marriage.�
We’ve purchased land in the area and hopefully in the near future we’ll be doing things differently too!
Whereabouts, if you don’t mind my asking?
just outside Snowflake to the east and north. We have a well and a fence so far.
I was baptized in Snowflake, AZ. Lived there for less than 6 full months, but that is where I learned about the church. Was in and around Taylor quite a bit. That area will always have a special spot in my heart. Who knows but what I saw your grandmother there–if she lived there in the winter of 1974-1975.
Mary Adams,
She did not. We didn’t return to those parts until 1976.
Cooper,
I’ll have to look you up next time I visit.
Adam let me know in advance! We’re still in SoCal for now and do a bit of commuting to the land for prep work. If we’re able, we’d love to meet you and yours! Mary – you’re invited to for a reminiscence party!
The ties to the little town have grown dim–being a second generation member of the Snowflake diaspora, I have just faint memories of dusty streets on hot summer days, a drunk Indian passed out on the ditch bank, Amanda Flake’s cow getting into Grandpa’s cornpatch, and, last of all, a funeral in the old stone chapel on the main street and a burial in the red dirt at the town cemetery, nearly a quarter-century after his beloved Jennie.
I commented recently to my father about the remarkable accomplishments of the people who left that place. His reply: it’s too bad that the little town seemed to offer so little, that so many of us had to go elsewhere.
Still I think that it holds for many the same memories that the forest and waters of Mormon had for the church in Alma’s day. “How beautiful [it is] to the eyes of them who there came to the knowledge of their Redeemer!”
Adam–Did I ever mention to you that I was born in Show Low?
Great story. I love the way they do things down there.
Show Low– the big city. You urbanite, you.
I’m envisioning a private bloggersnacker with me, Mark B., and Adam, in Show Low. Now wouldn’t that be interesting!
OK, but only if we have strict controls on who can come to our Bloggersnacker, and we strictly enforce them.