History Adventuring

For no apparent reason yesterday the name of the person that I rented my little converted garage from while I was going to ASU, in the 1980s in Tempe, popped into my head. No, I'm not going to mention him by name, but I will say that he was a professor at ASU, and he bought property and held it with the hopes of its increasing in value. Even back then I understood the concept, that it really didn't matter about what was on the land, it was the land that mattered. A renter like me would simply help offset the cost of paying for the property, and the taxes. Presumably he made a profit. No, that's not him there with me in the photo, that was a neighbor who had dogs that I liked. The landlord never visited the property. The neighborhood was, and is, what I would call "less than fashionable". It was dirt cheap, with no amenities, which is exactly what I wanted. I was a "starving student" and was glad to have found the place, and I made friends with ever

It's March 26th, 2020, and the whole world seems to be waiting, holding its breath. If you're reading this right now, you understand, but if you found this post way off in the future, and this is just history, I'll try to explain. COVID-19 means "Corona Virus Disease 2019" (the year that it was identified, last year). As of this writing, there is no vaccine yet, and in the meantime everyone all over the world is being asked to just try to not spread the contagion, with social distancing. That is, we're all staying away from each other the best we can. This is easier for some people than others. There are people who are fortunate enough to be able to stay away from the office, to work remotely, or maybe they really don't need to go anywhere. Some people have to go to work. But I'm discovering that even people who really don't need to go anywhere need to go places. The schools are all closed, and I can hardly imagine what it would be like to

It's Monday, March 23rd, 2020, and I'm remembering what suburban Phoenix was like back in the good old days, a week ago. If you're reading this right now you understand, because it's only been in the last few days that life seems to have come to a standstill because of the precautions of the coronavirus. If not, I'll see if I can explain. Since there's no vaccine for the virus yet, people all over the world are being asked to simply do what is being called "social distancing". That is, since this virus can be transmitted by touch, or through the air, with a couch, like the flu, right now the idea is to just keep away from everyone. Six feet away is the recommended distance, and no groups of ten or more. Non-essential medical stuff, like going for a checkup at the dentist, has been put on hold for a while. Time-travel with me. You may be wondering if I'm kidding, but I'm not. I place no restrictions on when I can visit old-time Phoenix,

If you're familiar with the expression "ignorance is bliss", it may still confuse you. And in my experience you have to be very, very, ignorant to hit the blissful stage. A little knowledge can be very dangerous, and frightening. It's March 22, 2020, and I'm watching the world around me as it responds to the coronavirus pandemic. And like most people today I find myself with a lot of time on my hands, and of course I'm thinking about old-time Phoenix, and what people thought back in the day. Speaking for myself, I lived through two times in my life with the blissfulness of ignorance, once when I was a toddler, and again a few years ago after my stroke. Sadly, my bliss faded away with a little knowledge, and I moved into the fearful stage. And for a lot of people, that's where they are, but that's not what I'm thinking about today - I'm thinking how wonderfully happy people are who really don't have a clue - like when I was four year

If you're not familiar with the term "price gouging", it simply means charging a very inflated price for something because of a particular circumstance. It does require a particular knowledge of what something should sell for, at a reasonable price, in a given place and time. Of course, everything looks ridiculously cheap when I look at old ads, but at the time those prices had to be reasonable or people wouldn't pay it, and I'm absolutely certain that unscrupulous people took advance of certain circumstances to gouge people - which means to charge way too much for something. Yesterday a friend of mine who had been trying to find surgical masks asked me if I could order some online, which I'm happy to do for him. He's older than me, but he knows the value of a dollar, and can tell you to the penny the exact price of gas that day. He doesn't trust the internet, but he trusts me, so I went online to find the surgical masks for him. I don't reall

It's March 20th, 2020, and the coronavirus is out there, so everyone is doing their part, doing social distancing. If you're reading this today, you understand, but if you're finding this blog post later on in the history of Peoria, Arizona, this may take some explaining. I'll see what I can do. This morning at about 7, I called my local McDonalds to confirm that they were still open, which they are, but only drive-through and take out. I went over there, just to kinda see what it looked like, and yes, I was able to go in and get my coffee, but as you can see, indoor dining is not allowed. I stood outside and drank my coffee - it's a beautiful day in Peoria, not a cloud in the sky. My friend Pancho came over to get coffee too (and a hash brown), which was nice because standing there alone just feels kinda weird. We stood six feet apart, because that's part of the instructions for social distancing now. No shaking hands, no hugging people, just smiling

I'm a little bit too young to remember much about the Generation Gap, which was a popular term in the late '60s and early '70s. I was just an annoying little kid back then, in Minneapolis, but I do have some vague memories of it, and since those days, my interest in history, especially in Phoenix, has caused me to reexamine those days. If you're not familiar with the Generation Gap, or have forgotten all about it, briefly it was a very wide division of political opinions between the young generation, such as the young man in the billboard up there who is enjoying drinking some whiskey with his dad. There really wasn't much agreement between the generations at the time. The image at the top of this post, which I found on the Duke University website, which has a LOT of old advertising images, is from 1972. And if you time-travel back to 1972, you will find, generally speaking, that the young generation didn't support the president, and didn't support t

In my lifetime, I've assumed that people can read at a basic level. If someone were to shout, "What's the matter, can't ya read?" I would think of it as spoken in anger, not a genuine question. But I've often wondered what it would feel like to look at a bunch of dots and lines and not be able to decipher any meaning, not see any words. Oddly enough, this idea popped into my head while I was watching a Three Stooges short, whereupon Curly is asked to look at a sign and says that he wasn't smoking, or wasn't going to park there, or whatever (I really don't remember). It was done for a laugh, but if I were really true, it would be far from funny. Being functionally illiterate is different from neurological blindness. Admit it, even if you're a good reader, you may have never seen the sign that says, "No Parking". No, I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about being unable to read even the simplest sign. Time-travel

The concern about the coronavirus has escalated very quickly in the last few days. And since I'm a history adventurer, I'm noticing that this will become a time that people will remember, like 9/11, or when Kennedy was assassinated, or the flu of 1918. This is an interesting time, which, as the saying goes, is a curse. By the time you read this this may all be history, or you may be reading it today, March 19th 2020, on the day I'm jotting these thoughts down. And they're only thoughts, not conclusions. Conclusions will come later, by better heads than mine. As a "roving reporter", I'm really not much good. Social distancing, which is being recommended right now, is something that I've done for a very long time. After I stopped teaching at GCC, about ten years ago, I mostly worked online, and very rarely needed to do any "face-to-face". Nowadays I consider myself retired, and mostly spend my time working on my collection of old Phoeni

I've never driven in anything but crowded conditions. Where I grew up, and learned to drive, in Minneapolis, the tiny streets were always crowded, crowded with cars, crowded with pedestrians, bicycles, dogs, you name it. By the time I got to Phoenix, in 1977, the streets were already being overwhelmed in spite of their size. East Bell Road was an absolute madhouse, with cars going every which way, and I tried to avoid that area. Then in 1982 I moved to Los Angeles, and I don't have to tell you how crowded it is there, and has been for a very long time! So imagining a world where the drivin' is easy, and there are no crowds, no one tailgating you, no one suddenly cutting you off from your blind side, is a nice thought. I know that Phoenix was like that not too long ago, because of the old photos I collect, and when I ride with people who have driven in that time and place. They scare the life out of me! You can time-travel to a less-crowded Phoenix by riding along wi

I was recently invited to join a Facebook group for the San Fernando Valley, and while I don't join Facebook groups anymore, I read the questions to enter the group, one of which was simply what my connection was to that place. I lived there for two years, from 1987 to 1989, so I'm not sure that it qualifies me as an expert. But I was there, and there are a few things I can tell you about it, if you want to see it from my point of view. First of all, and let's get this clear from the start, the San Fernando Valley is simply "the Valley". Yes, I know that there are a lot of valleys in California, but there's only one "the valley". It's said the way that people in San Francisco just say "the city", as if nowhere else really mattered. And for the valley, no other valley really mattered. If you live in the greater Los Angeles area, you know that. Speaking of which, something that surprised me, and even my neighbors in the valley, is

Something that I remember from my childhood in Minneapolis is an advertising campaign to encourage people to lock their car, and to take their keys. I can hear the stern voice in the commercials, and when I learned to drive, in the 1970s, it was something that I did. I really can't imagine leaving my car unlocked, and definitely not leaving the keys in the ignition, but apparently it's was so common at one time that people had to be told with ads and TV commercials not to do it. I lived in Los Angeles in the 1980s, where if you turned your back for a few seconds your stuff would be stolen, and never, ever saw anyone walk away from their car without locking it, and taking their keys. When I moved back to Phoenix in 1989, failing to lock your car and take your keys was unimaginable, as it is today. But when I time-travel in my imagination to old-time Phoenix, even as recently as the 1970s, I know that it was a common thing to do. And that's because it's a small-town

I've always enjoyed visiting abandoned buildings, and places. It's been a quirk of my personality since I was a kid - just looking at an old empty building, or maybe just the remains of a foundation. It has always fired up my imagination, wondering about the people who were once there. I'm sure that you understand, but of course most people don't. When I see an abandoned building, or place, I know that there are people who are watching me, wondering what I'm doing. I pride myself on looking respectable, and maybe even businesslike, looking over the property with the thought of possibly investing, taking photos so that my business partners can see the property when I get back to my office. Or maybe I'm a city inspector, or something like that. If anyone were to walk up to me and ask me I'd be honest with them, and just say that I have a fascination with old buildings, and I'd try to talk to them about the history of the area. I find that most people

As I drift into my senior years, I meet more and more people who have suddenly realized that they won't live forever, and the things that they've always meant to do, but never got around to, can slip away forever, because, well, they will die. Someday, probably sooner than they'd thought. If you're like most people, that realization will never come to you, and you'll not only be lucky, you'll be puzzled about why some people are doing what they're doing. What's the hurry? Why not plan that for next week, or next year? There's plenty of time! Speaking for myself, my realization that I probably wouldn't live forever happened seventeen years ago, about a month after they dragged my carcass out of Intensive Care, and I said to myself, "Now what?" The movie "The Bucket List", which came out in 2007, really affected me. If you haven't seen it, it's about a couple of guys who decide to do a lot of cool and wonderful

I can tell you the exact day that I was counted by the United States Census as "head of household" (because I lived alone) for the first time, it was April 23rd, 1980. It was at the Saguaro Apartments, which was at 4205 N. 9th Street (9th Street near Lopers), and I had resided there since August of 1977. These dates stick in my mind clearly, as I had been out of high school for a year, and was idiot enough to move to Phoenix in August. If you know Phoenix, you know what I'm talking about. And the census-taker knocked on my door on my birthday. That the United States would consider me important enough to count really impressed me, and I still think about it to this day. Whether I got something that I was supposed to mail back or not I don't recall, and maybe I didn't imagine that one little person in one tiny apartment in Phoenix mattered all that much. I do recall being excited when the phone books came out, and my name was in it. I may, or may not have, r

If you're a resident of the Phoenix, Arizona area, you know that, roughly speaking, there are two types of winter visitors - thrifty midwesterners, and spendy Californians. They bring in much-needed revenue to the Phoenix area, and have been doing so for many generations, but they're treated differently by some of the less-than-scrupulous people of Phoenix. I'll see if I can explain. Since I grew up in the midwest, and lived for about ten years in California, I have a pretty good idea of their respective points of view. The culture that I grew up in, in Minneapolis, was either wise and thrifty or so darned cheap that someone wouldn't read the newspaper because they didn't want to wear out their eyeglasses. In California, it's as opposite as you can get. To me, I saw it as a very wasteful world, where "conspicuous consumption" was the norm. Clipping coupons, and waiting for sales, was seen as positively egregious behavior, which could get you shun

You can get a real insight into someone's personality by watching how they park their car in Phoenix, Arizona. Some of it has to do with whether they're a visitor to Phoenix, or have newly-arrived from another city, or have been driving in Phoenix for a long time. It's the latter category that catches my eye. And seeing Phoenix through their eyes gives me a window into what it was like before it got so crowded there. Since I lived in Los Angeles in the 1980s, Phoenix has never seemed crowded to me, especially the parking lots. Even back then LA was so crowded that you were happy to just find a parking spot at all, and you grabbed the first one you saw, you didn't drive around looking for one that might be closer to the building, because if you passed that spot, it would be taken immediately after you, and there might not be another one. Not just handy, but at all. You might have to go looking for a parking spot blocks away. Sharing the road, or sharing a parking

When I was a kid, there was a popular song with the lyrics, "They paved paradise, and put in a parking lot". And all of my life, it's been perfectly natural for people to criticize paving, as if they'd be better without it. You know, living in paradise, right? Growing up in Minnesota, where it was either raining or snowing most of the time, I couldn't imagine living without paved roads - without paving there would be mud everywhere (and even with paved roads and sidewalks we kids managed to track in a fair amount of mud - ask our moms!). Of course in Phoenix, or Southern California, it never rains (except of course when it does) so paving doesn't seem all that important. I've visited people who live waaaay out in the country near Phoenix, without paved roads, without a paved driveway, and without sidewalks. And while it's fine to visit, I can't imagine dealing with it on a daily basis. The more well-to-do have fine gravel set down, which n

I'm a little kid at heart, and I love to watch construction. It's all the same to me, road construction, building construction, I'm fascinated with piles of dirt being moved around by real-life Tonka toys. And I especially like seeing neighborhoods being built. The neighborhood in the photo at the top of this post is just east of Grand Avenue on Olive. It's a huge chunk of land which was formerly farmland. It stretches from 71st Avenue all of the way to Grand Avenue. And the first thing that a neighborhood like this gets, even before the roads are completed, are giant walls. I really know nothing about this neighborhood, but based on what I've seen in the past, it will be self-contained. It will be surrounded by walls, have a gated entry, and have its own park, playground, green belt, that sort of thing. It will be wonderfully walkable, and only for the people who are supposed to be there. There will be no people walking through the neighborhood, or "

I've had a charmed life, and I've been very lucky, being the blue-eyed boy (literally, in my family, all of my brothers have brown eyes), and have never needed to have a suit custom-made (or bespoke if you prefer). I really never needed tailoring, except for the first suit I bought, back in the 1980s, when I was 29. If you're confusing a sports coat and slacks with a suit, that's understandable - most men don't ever wear suits, but it's something that I wanted to do when I grew up. A suit, by the way, matches top to bottom and is sold as a set. It's about the simplest item of clothing a man can wear - no need to ponder what jacket goes with what pants - they match. And if the suit is brown or tan you wear brown shoes, and if blue or grey you wear black shoes. Once I started wearing suits to work even I couldn't get it wrong! My first suit was purchased at a discount place in downtown LA. I tried it on, it seemed to fit, and it wasn't until lat

Although California, and Arizona have reputations of having people who are lazy, or flaky, or say "mañana" (which means that they'll get to it later, and actually never), there are a lot of people with a very strong work ethic, and a lot of energy. You're looking at two of them in the photo at the top of this post. If you haven't seen hard-working people, it's probably because you aren't one yourself. Sorry, but if you're dragging yourself to get to a job with bleary eyes clutching a cup of coffee and moving like a zombie, I understand. But that was never me, and it wasn't the type of people that I hung around with. There was a time when I attributed my work ethic to growing up in Minnesota, but that doesn't really explain it. I know a lot of people back home who are so lazy that it seems to be an effort for them to get up off of the couch to reach for more chips, or the remote, to watch another game on TV. I've decided that it runs

California has long had a reputation for fitness, especially Southern California. And yes, of course, some of those people are actors, and models, but most of them aren't - it just seems to be part of the culture of Southern California to be physically fit. Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the beaches, I really don't know, but there are a lot of very fit people in California. They can be fun to see, and either inspire you to work on your self to make it more beautiful, or to just give up on your fitness. I've seen both. In the '80s, I was a typical young man living in Los Angeles. And since it's Hollywood there, it was typical for people to be aspiring actors, or models, looking for work, so people asked me, but I just wanted to be fit. There were billboards at the time that said, "Be a model... or just look like one". I knew models, and actors, and that seemed to be too much work, going to auditions, or memorizing lines, and that

I worry about people who have never had a broken heart, the way that I worry about people who've never broken a leg, or an arm. In a longish life, I've had all of these things broken, and while I would never wish it on anyone, I know that people who have never experienced it can never really understand. And those who have can either be totally broken themselves, or they can come back stronger, and more importantly, more understanding. When I look at my collection of photos of old-time Phoenix, and focus on the people, I wonder about them. Were they happy? Were they sad? I suppose a mix of both, just like today, and how it's always been. And yes, I know that a woman's heart is a deep well, but it's true of us men, too. We just don't admit it (unless you caught me admitting it here on this blog post!). There are so many things that can break a heart - it could be a failed romance, or it could be the death of a loved one, the list is as varied as the people

A man from Phoenix is visiting a friend back east and he is asked what he thinks of the local river. He says that never got a good look at it, as it was always filled up with water! If you got a giggle out of that, or are smiling politely for me, and are not confused by it, you know the Phoenix area. Yes, there are rivers marked on maps, and with the name "river", and even with squiggly blue lines, but really there are no rivers, only washes. That is, a place where water comes rushing through, and then dries up, and often stays muddy. Technically they're riparian areas, where there's enough water, at least right underground, to support more life than is usual in the Sonoran Desert. Ride along with me. Today we're going to New River in Peoria. No, not the town of New River, the river of New River. Well, if you can call it a river. And it's isn't really new. I suppose it was when the pioneers in the Phoenix area first named it, but I guess there