Tucson Sammy

Arrrrg. I am suffering from re-entry. My lovely wife and I just returned to the Old Pueblo after a ten day trip abroad. Well, technically not abroad, we were in New England.

The countries…sorry, the states over there are puny and overpopulated. At one point, we took a trip to Martha’s Vineyard and drove in three different states in less than four hours.

Martha’s Vineyard, you may recall, is where the Clintons posed for pictures while pretending to dance on the beach in swimsuits, passed out the pictures to media friendlies, then acted distressed that their privacy was invaded. Martha’s Vineyard includes Chappaquiddick Island where Ted Kennedy drove off a bridge and abandoned a girl to suffocate on his partially submerged car while he engaged in damage control. More recently, John Kennedy Jr. died tragically when his light plane crashed at sea in bad weather en route to Martha’s Vineyard.

No one would argue that New England is not rich in American History.

Martha’s Vineyard suffers from the same problems from which all particularly beautiful and desirable places suffer. Its towns are composed primarily of small buildings in an ultra-quaint New England style – imagine Mystic Seaport without the tall ships. It is an island with beaches facing both the mainland and the open ocean, providing all sorts of beach/surf combinations; combine this with a multitude of salt water lagoons, and you have a real scenic marine playground. All this adds up to heap big magnet for tourists and vacationers.

As in Tucson, the vineyard has a small group of residents who are actually natives! They have the “Native” bumper-stickers with outlines of the island, like the natives in many western states. They also have bumper-stickers that say, “Slow down, you’re not off-island anymore!” They are also being squeezed between draconian efforts to maintain quaintness, and market pressure to develop as land values climb higher and higher (sound familiar?).

The ocean acts as a bit of a natural moat – you can only get there by boat or plane. This does not keep the cars away – we drove onto a ferry, rode it for forty-five minutes, then drove onto the island – but it does make it more of a production, and more expensive, to go there. Though tourism is huge in the summer, I imagine that the inability to drive there conveniently keeps many people away, just as the inability to carry a sixty-four quart cooler conveniently keeps many people out of the Arizona backcountry.

Martha’s Vineyard even has a logo. It’s a profile of a black dog. It’s even called “Black Dog”. I don’t know what the original entity behind the Black Dog logo is, or was, but there is a store where you can buy all sorts of clothing – from sweats to socks – with the Black Dog logo. You have probably seen people around Tucson wearing a either a tee-shirt or sweatshirt with a large profile of a black dog on the front. It is the equivalent to OB-with-a-bird logo for the Ocean Beach neighborhood in San Diego, California. In Tucson, we usually see the OB logo on decals on the rear windows of cars from California, instead of on tee-shirts and sweatshirts.

I am glad that Tucson does not have a logo, at least none of which I am aware. At least, I haven’t seen any tee-shirts with Brown Coyotes on the front, or decals with the letters OP (Old Pueblo) and a turkey vulture. We have a cool nickname, “The Old Pueblo,” and that is enough. We may not have the ocean, but we have deserts and mountains. More importantly, we have yet to lose our frontier heritage. Unfortunately, New England has.

The other bond issue on the ballot (questions three and four) is being overshadowed by the RTA (questions one and two). The questions ask the voters to approve bonds that would raise fifty-four million dollars to build a psychiatric urgent care facility, and an eighty bed psychiatric treatment center. They money would construct the buildings, which would then be leased to University Physicians who would operate the facility.

The arguments in favor are twofold: 1, It would reduce costs by treating the mentally ill instead of ignoring them until they end up in jail again and again. It has been estimated that twenty per cent of the county jail population consists of people with mental disorders; 2, It is far more humane to treat people than incarcerate them – it has a far better long term effect for the individual and the community.

They are valid arguments, but the assumptions are faulty.

Consider the nature of the mentally ill to whom the proponents refer. The vast majority are substance abusers, and if you include the people with traditional mental illnesses and substance abuse problems, you are left with a very small population indeed. Substance abusers do not recover at urgent care centers or hospitals; they recover by attending twelve step programs or religious programs.

There is also an assumption that Tucson is devoid of any facilities at this time. Off the top of my head, I can think of COPE, Palo Verde Hospital to name a couple; and I know that the VA Hospital and Kino Hospital both have psychiatric facilities. Cottonwood and Sierra Tucson are two private sector facilities that specialize in substance abuse.

So, here’s the bottom line: we have a $54,000,000.00 proposed facility that will add to existing facilities that serve a small population – that’s $54,000,000.00 for the infrastructure only.

Perhaps the University Physicians can build their psychiatry business over time – customized to the Tucson market. I’m sure that Jim Click and Don Diamond (both of whom support the bonds) could help with start-up capital. It would probably result in better community service; but why spend all that time and effort when Pima County can wave a wand?

Election day is Tuesday the sixteenth. Let’s talk some Regional Transportation Authority (RTA).

Libertarians are sometimes humored, but more often horrified, by the focus of the debate. Reporters enumerate the details, commentators debate the details, while huge violations of liberty - and the concept of representative government - are ignored. Proponents and opponents prattle on about whether or not the trolley from the University of Arizona to the downtown area is the stupidest part of the plan (it may be), or if purchasing rights-of-way in the southeast is smart (it is). Meanwhile, the single most important issue is left to me to address.

If members of the Tucson City Council are irresponsible with the tax dollars they raise, we get rid of them at the election time. If the Pima County Board of Supervisors are irresponsible with tax dollars they raise, we get rid of them at the election time. If the appointees at the RTA are irresponsible with the tax dollars they raise we….we what?

The overriding mistake, the one that trumps all other issues, is the creation of yet another level of government composed of unelected bureaucrats that will have taxing authority. Unelected appointees with taxing authority is anathema to citizens. Any government official with taxing authority must be subject to firing by the people directly. How many other ways can I put this? Is there anyone who disagrees?

I know that they promised to stick to the plan, and I know that they have procedures for deviating, as in the requirement to hold a referendum if they deviate by a certain percentage, but they are not bound by law. If anyone says that they are bound by law, ask him what remedy is in place in case it is violated. I’m not suggesting that they should be bound to all the details of the plan. That would certainly be unreasonable considering the nature and magnitude of the projects. They should, however, be accountable directly to the people – which they will not be.

It is typical for this sort of “authority” to eventually slip under the radar, accrue large amounts of money and political power, and become an entity in and of itself, instead of by and for the people.

If you like the plan, vote for it; tell them that it is a good plan. If you don’t like the plan, vote against it; tell them it stinks. Whatever you do, vote against the tax! It is not really an issue of the tax itself, but rather to whom the funds will flow.

It is too late to stop the creation of the monster, but we can keep it from getting any teeth.

I believe that, as one accumulates years, one accumulates wisdom as well… though most evidence points to the contrary.

Many moons ago, my friend and climbing partner Bob decided that he wanted to hike to the top of Mt. Whitney in the Sierra Nevada. He invited me along. The schedule was ambitious. We were to leave on a Friday after work, about 5:30 P.M., and drive to Kingman where we would crash for the night. The next day we would drive through to Whitney Portal, the site of the trailhead, elevation 8000 feet. We would hang out there to acclimatize, then do the twenty mile hike on Sunday, driving back to Tucson on Monday.

Well, being a couple of young bucks (emotionally, at least), we were too excited to crash in Kingman, so we drove through to Whitney Portal, driving and sleeping in shifts. We arrived at first light, the ideal time to start the hike. Faced with either going or cooling our heels for twenty four hours, we went. We made it up and back, though Bob did suffer from some altitude sickness (we went from below sea level to fourteen thousand feet in the same day). Back in Whitney Portal, we enjoyed an evening meal of roast beef sandwiches and soda.

Bob said, “Is there anything else you want to do in California?”

“Not particularly,” I said.

He replied, “Me either.”

So off we were, yet again, like two sailors each taking our four-hour watch at the helm while the other slept. We arrived in Tucson at 8:30 A.M., Sunday morning, dazed and scruffy, but each in one piece. From Tucson, to Death Valley, to Mount Whitney (the highest point in the lower forty-eight), and back in thirty nine hours.

Fast forward twenty years. While at the computer, I often take a break and jump over to ebay where I torture myself by looking at all the sailboats up for auction. I daydream of buying this one, or that, and sailing to Hawaii with my wife. Sometimes I find a boat that would actually fit into our lives as they are today, and on rarer occasions, one that fits and I could afford.

It appeared two weeks ago. A Cal 20 with a trailer in Long Beach, California. The bidding was low, with no reserve. I looked at other offerings, but the Cal 20 was weighing heavily on my consciousness. My wife came in and looked over my shoulder.

“Is that the boat you want?”, she asked with a smile.

“No”, I said, “I’ll show you the one I want.”

I quickly went back to the Cal 20, and she took a close look. “How come it’s so cheap?”, she asked.

I explained how occasionally you find an amazing deal on ebay, and she agreed that I should place a bid. I saw this as a sign from God.

I wandered around in a distracted state for the next couple of days until the auction closed. Part of me wanted to lose so my live would return to normal, and I could get back to doing my stuff.

As you have probably guessed, I won the boat. Long beach, while much closer than Bangor, Maine, suddenly seemed very far away. I arranged to take some time off from my day job, prepped my little truck, and put an audiobook version of Winston Churchill’s History of the English Speaking People on my MP3 player, and I was ready to go.

I called a different friend of mine, also named Bob, who happened to be between jobs and invited him along. He called me back saying “I can’t let you do this alone.” The presence of Bob was another bit of Divine intervention, for it would have been hellish without his help and company.

So it was, at 2:30 A.M. on a Monday morning, Bob and I merged from the entrance ramp in downtown Tucson onto Interstate 10 West.

As part of our trip preparation, Bob and I cleansed ourselves of any guns, drugs, ammunition, politically incorrect thoughts, and most other things normally associated with a free society. We were both aware that when traveling to a foreign country – in this case, the People’s Republic of Kalifornia – one must adjust to the local culture, particularly a culture where Americans are always suspect.

We went via Phoenix instead of San Diego because the route was relatively flat, and I was already pushing the envelope with my little truck. The desert areas of Arizona and California were beautiful, and we both enjoyed watching the day break on that terrain as the sun rose behind us. When we hit Riverside, we hit the famous California freeway traffic. Yuk.

We arrived at the storage yard at 11:00 A.M. Lights, wiring, bearing grease, two tires, some bilge pumping and four hours later, we hit the road. We entered the greater Los Angeles freeway system at rush hour. It took us three ours to drive through Riverside and hit I-10 East. Actually, I was somewhat content to pull the trailer at ten and fifteen miles an hour in heavy traffic, rather than sixty to seventy miles an hour in heavy traffic.

The sun set behind us as the sun rose behind us in the morning. All we had to do now was maintain for another seven hours. With lots of coffee, a few stogies, and Bob as my co-pilot, we had smooth sailing.

I’ll pulled into the driveway at 2:18 A.M. having traveled 1001 miles in 24 hours. Good times. Still young bucks, even after twenty more years.

The boat turned out to be an excellent deal. The hull and deck are in fine shape. There is a little cosmetic rust on the keel, and two of the eight bolts may need replacing. The mast, boom, and standing rigging look good. There are no sails or running rigging. The interior needs a good cleaning and painting – rainwater collected inside, but the wood is O.K. The cushions cleaned up fine.

I can’t wait!

Looks good from here.

Nice lines!