The day I saw my first palm tree in Phoenix, Arizona - August of 1977


I didn't grow up in Phoenix, I moved there when I was 19. My hometown is Minneapolis, Minnesota, which is a beautiful city, but never appealed to me - too cold in the winter, too many mosquitos in the summer, and no palm trees (obviously).

But I knew that there were places with palm trees, like Phoenix. These were places that I fantasized about as a kid, places where it never snowed, never got below zero. After I graduated from high school, and did some repairs to my car, I headed west, and the very first thing I did when I got to Phoenix was to stop and put my hand on a palm tree. I can still feel it.

The route I took, as you'd imagine, came through Flagstaff on I-17. The first exit I took in Phoenix was a street called "Cactus", which also blew my mind. And there were palm trees! Something told me that I wasn't in Kansas anymore (well, Minnesota).

I've never gotten over my fascination with palm trees, and I still marvel that winter never really comes to Phoenix. Like other places that I've lived, including Santa Barbara, California, there are people who grew up there who never seem to notice how beautiful it is. This often makes me sad, and if I get the chance I try to let them see their city through my eyes, the things that they take for granted, especially palm trees.

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