History Adventuring

The story that you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent people who got stung by ants in Phoenix in the 1960s. This is based on an experience that was shared with me by one of my top PhDs (Phoenix History Detectives). He was a kid at the time, and could laugh about it then, as now. It's the 1960s, and we're leaving Phoenix on our way to California on Highway 60. We always have fun on these trips, because mom gives us plenty of sandwiches made with Holsum bread and bologna. Mom and Dad prefer sandwiches made with cucumbers and Braunschweiger sausage (yuk!). So yep, no fancy restaurants for us, but that's great because we're kids and we love to sit at the picnic tables at rest stops. You never know what's going to happen! OK, let's have those sandwiches, I'm hungry! But wait, what's that? I see a couple of big ant hills, and you know what that means - those nasty stinging red ants. Let's get out of here.

Since history adventuring is my life, I want to go everywhere, and be everywhere. I started doing this many years ago as mostly a journey of imagination, and it still it, but with my ever-improving health and fitness, I'm trying to get out into the Real World more often, and it's happening more this year. And oddly enough, it's also guiding me into a corner of cyberspace that I really never understood before: Instagram. I want no limits. I want to go as deeply into the history of Phoenix as possible, and also to see it from the point of view of people who just want a quick look. And since you're here, reading my blog, you may be wondering why someone would just want a quick look, and not want to find out more. And all I can say is that sometimes you feel like a full meal, and sometimes just a snack would be perfect, if you follow what I mean. For those of you who know me IRL (In Real Life), or have read between the lines here, I have some severe physical challe

Usually when I tell people that I'm interested in going history adventuring IRL (In Real Life) they imagine that I want to go to a museum, or stand and listen to a tour guide. I don't. When I get out there, I want to see stuff. I don't want to see pictures of stuff, or artificial displays of stuff, or people talking about stuff. I love seeing that stuff on the internet all of the time. But real life is different, and very precious, for me. The first time I saw the Grand Canyon, my friend continued to interrupt my enjoyment of it by asking me to stop looking at it, and instead to look at photos of it. This seems to be such typical behavior that I've every once in a while decided that I should be more polite, but then I think, "naah" and go right back to my rude behavior, which is wandering off. I don't go into gift shops when I arrive at an historic destination, I don't look at brochures. If someone wants me to look at the photos that they have jus

I just spent a little over a week in California, and while I was there my mind was boggled by how expensive everything seemed to me. I live in Phoenix, and I rarely travel, so I'm sure that I got a double-whammy when I went to pay for things. Or a triple-whammy if you consider that I can remember all of the way back to the 1960s, when I could buy a comic book for twelve cents! Whether something is expensive, of course, or cheap, always depends on the person who is doing the paying. And as someone from Phoenix I was amazed at how expensive the houses are in California. Many of my conversations were with people who assured me that, really, a one-bedroom apartment rents for that much. And that led me to listen to when people said that, "they couldn't afford it". I like hearing the phrase "I can't afford it" because sometimes it makes sense to me and sometimes it just seems ridiculous. I'm not very good at math, but I can do some quick calculation

Time-travel with me to 1921 in Phoenix, Arizona. If you're familiar with the history of race relations in the United States before desegregation, you know that the law of the land was "separate but equal" (which was never true) and that meant that black and white students were separated, and in theory, treated equally. And if you've visited the George Washington Carver Museum and Cultural Center, at 4th Street and Grant in Phoenix, you know that it was the first high school built for black students, in 1926. It was closed in 1954 when Phoenix desegregated its schools, but it still has always left me with the question of where the black kids went to high school before 1926? Or rather, colored. In 1921 that term was as acceptable as is "persons of color" is today. And yes, as a white guy this whole subject makes me a little uncomfortable, but it's part of the story of Phoenix, and is as important as anything else that has ever happened there. Nowada

I love living in Phoenix, but sometimes you just gotta get away. And at the risk of sounding like a commercial for Arizona, that's why it's so great to live there. Because all you gotta do is get out of town, and the scenery changes very quickly. Yesterday I rode along with a co-adventurer who is typical of the people that I like to ride along with, someone who just needed to get out of town for a few hours. We went to Cherry, Arizona. If you've been to Cherry, you know what I mean. If you haven't, then it's kind of hard to explain, because there's really nothing there. And that's exactly the point. Places like Cherry have always been my antidote for the feeling of stress and strain that I feel living in a big city. Now don't get me wrong, I like living in the big city. I like my little neighborhood in Glendale (a suburb of Phoenix), but every once in a while I want to see something besides 100+ temperatures, and cactus, and traffic lights. And

Although history adventuring in my imagination is wonderful, because I can travel to anytime, be anyone, and go anywhere, every once in a while I'm privileged to accompany one of my PhDs (Phoenix History Detectives) to go history adventuring IRL - which is an internet abbreviation for "In Real Life". But the real world has limitations for me that I try not to worry too much about, and although it's not a secret, I do try to keep my limitations "behind the scenes". I wobble. I bought these nice walking poles a couple of years ago while I was out history adventuring in Prescott. As someone with a vestibular disability (I wobble) just the small undulations of the sidewalks there can be difficult for me, but these are the places that I love to go. I got these, and practiced with them, and although they're intended for "power hiking", they help me to just mosey along, which is what I really love to do. I dislike carrying a cane, and a cane re

Every year for the past ten years I've gone and house-sat for a friend of mine who lives in a nice neighborhood in the hills near Los Angeles. And as a humble person from Glendale, Arizona (a suburb of Phoenix) of course I wanted to be able to "blend in" with the rich and famous people around there. Of course I got it all wrong. If you've spent time around rich and famous people, you know how it all works, but it just seems so backwards to me. I just got it into my head that these wealthy people walked around looking like the guy from Monopoly, with a tuxedo and a top hat. But that's so very wrong. People who have the big bucks don't have to dress to impress anyone. When you see them at the coffee shop they look a mess. It's as if you start to suspect that that person over there is rich and famous because their clothes are dirty and wrinkled, their hair isn't combed, and they look as if they haven't shaved for several days. Of course if they w

I've always lived where things have gotten stolen, and it looks like I always will. When I first moved to Phoenix, I lived in a "sketchy" neighborhood that hardly even seemed to be safe to walk around in, especially at night. It certainly wasn't a safe place to leave your car doors unlocked, or to just leave a bike leaning against a fence! And when I moved to another "sketchy" neighborhood in Tempe, I made a point to bring my bicycle into my apartment. I also didn't go out wandering around at night. When I moved into some "sketchy" neighborhoods in the Los Angeles area, I was also cautious. I have to admit that it jangled my nerves to always hear car alarms, or the wail of police sirens day and night. And I wanted out of those neighborhoods! But it turns out that there's really no getting away from worrying about your stuff getting stolen, as long as you have stuff. When I moved into my safe little suburban neighborhood, where I stil

I like history adventuring. There's really no point to it, which is exactly the point. I've never had a goal of writing a book, or turning it all into a major motion picture, or anything like that. This is my life. And I know that when I say that it puzzles many people, who become suspicious, but I really do mean that all I want to do is to go look at stuff, and imagine places in Phoenix and California "back in the day". I've been doing this for decades, and it's really all I want for the rest of my life. If you understand, you know what I mean, but if not, then it's logical to think that I'm doing it for other reasons, especially now that I'm sharing. I'm in the second chapter of my history adventuring, which is sharing. It's still a very personal thing with me, as I wander off and try to imagine Malibu when there were Malibu Indians (which I can't help thinking as funny-sounding), or imagining flying over the Sonoran Desert (as a

Since I'm not really a "traveling man" - not in the way that most people do it, I rarely talk about how I like to travel. And that's because it really just puzzles most people, and they wonder if I'm kidding. And since it's Friday, just three days away from my big journey from Phoenix to Los Angeles, I thought that I'd try to explain to you about my preparations. Of course, most people want to know the details of the trip, what freeways I'll take, or my flight number, what airline, all of those "left brained things" that I've never been good at. Yes, I have it written down, and I can refer to my notes if someone asks, but it really doesn't matter to me. On Monday I'll be going west, and when I return I'll be going east. And when I've said that, most people have just stared at me and wondered if I'm kidding. But the pilot knows the way, and I don't need to show him (or her) how to get there. And the nice shuttl

One of the "Five Cs" of Arizona is cotton, along with Copper, Cattle, Citrus, and Climate. And if you're like me, you can understand how valuable copper is, even cattle, citrus, and climate. But cotton always puzzled me. It made me wonder if somehow Arizona had been the tee-shirt capitol of the world? Or maybe towels? I had no idea that cotton was important for tires. Yes, tires. Rubber tires. Time-travel with me back to when automobiles were just becoming popular, after the turn of the century. Of course, back then, just as now they ran on rubber tires, which wore out. In fact, our modern tires have much longer wear than a tire from, say, 1918. And our tires are reinforced with steel, as in "Steel-belted radial tires". But back then they were reinforced with cotton. Really. In the early days of automotive tires, cotton was ridiculously expensive, which drove up the price of tires, and the cost of owning a car. The best cotton for tires came from the Midd

I just cycled down to my local Walgreens, which is about a mile away, and was pondering the loss of affordable housing in my neighborhood. I've lived here for over twenty years, and I have rarely taken a good look at what people like me have done to squeeze people out of affordable housing. Before my house was built, in 1985, this area, which is Glendale, a suburb of Phoenix, was a very affordable place to live. Well, not exactly where my house is, but less than a mile away there was a trailer park, which is still there. I have no way of knowing how far back the trailer park goes, but I know that the houses built next to it started going up in the late 1970s. You can find that out easily enough on Zillow. The houses, of course, have driven up property values, and rent. When this area was "way out in the middle of nowhere", it was cheap. Real cheap. There may not have been a Starbucks nearby, but buses ran out there, and people could live on low incomes. I rode pa

I like exploring. I've been that way since I was a kid. People have asked me what I'm looking for, maybe buried treasure, and when I say that I just like looking around, most are confused. What's the point? And I understand that it's very grown-up to have a point, to have a destination. But it's not what I like. And it's been wildly confusing to the grownups when my explorations don't even take me all that far away. Yes, I know that in order to be a real explorer, you have to travel to distant places. Quite possibly you have to wear clothing with a lot of pockets, and maybe even some type of explorer hat. You have to pack a large vehicle with a lot of stuff, maybe even have all that stuff transported on a plane. Sometimes there are maps with little red dots to show how far away explorers are going. And sadly, all I see is the time spent packing, and sitting in a vehicle, and waiting at airports. And I'd rather go exploring! Come with me, and let'