Livin’ It Up (and down) in Bisbee

We be in love with Bisbee, AZ, that’s how we be. We wandered in, to do Bisbee much the way we did Tombstone and Douglas, and we’re signing up for our third week. Life at the Queen mine RV park passes pretty slowly, people coming and going, some of them nonplussed because there’s no one in the office and a very short posting of rules: “Find a space and sign in.” If you happened to get Stan on the phone, he will put your name and a space number on the posting. We find this so refreshing compared to the two or three page lists of rules RV parks usually have.

Butch, the seasonal manager for 20 years, left this week. We were sorry not to be able to say goodbye. I really wanted to ask him how he is related to William F Buckley — he’s a ringer, right down to the dermatology scars and accent.

We’re getting acquainted. Had a great talk with a woman in a gallery a few days ago, and saw her again when we went to the library to hear the Wednesday night humanities program (The power of music in native american ceremony). Our neighbors are Mike and Liz from Georgia. They are looking for a place in old Bisbee to buy. (“Just have to get away from the Bubbas.”) Both artists, they are taking Tango lessons on Wednesdays, somewhere up Brewery Gulch. That alone wouldn’t tip us over, but when we saw them at the saloon after their lesson, and noticed that Mike’s shoes light up and blink, we can’t quit laughing. Liz is having trouble because they’re on her to wear heels and of course she doesn’t have any!

Bisbee has no mail delivery. Never has. The streets are so steep and crooked and the houses are built on top of one another – I guess it’s never been an issue for anyone. The post office has 1900 boxes and they’re free. The post office also has soft rock playing . There are 6,000 people in Bisbee, but there are neighborhoods stuck way out of the main town which is known as old Bisbee and is built in the bottom of a little canyon, or gulch. Old Bisbee is distinguished not only by the houses built up and down the steep hills, but they are painted in play dough colors.

We celebrated Davey’s birthday with a tour of the Queen Mine, straddling a little electric tram to go one mile in and 1,200′ feet under the mountain into the big copper mine that closed in 1974. Bisbee was mined underground until a mine was tapped out, or fell in, and then they apparently moved on to an open mine. It is hard to tell the small mountains from tailings all around. Our tour guide was a third generation miner with some good and terrible stories and statistics. It was a good tour; we were able to get off the tram and walk up into a stope, or mining hole, and get a look at different ores and see how they were removed in layers.

Davey’s b’day dinner was ribs at the Hot Licks Barbecue and Blues joint. Whoooeeee! Great barbecue and real interesting folks.

It’s about a mile and a half to go downtown to the post office, hit a couple of shops and climb back up to the edge of the Lavender Pit where we are parked. We enjoy the walk, usually have something to mail, and there aren’t any parking spaces down there anyway.

I’m touched nearly every day to realize how we’re all connected. Almost everyone knows someone from Oregon. We find that it seems important to be from somewhere. People need to have an ounce of information to establish what they might know about you before conversation can flow. Last week I was in a turquoise shop on the other side of the Lavender Pit, and heard a lady on the phone. Taking a chance on being perceived as nosy, I asked her if she had an acoustic neuroma. She almost fainted. I tried to assure her that words like translabrynth and gamma blade are very familiar to anyone who has had a tumor like that. Nevertheless, she says she has been praying so hard to find someone who has had the surgery, someone who understands … we had a long talk. She’s hooked up now on the internet and hopefully will get through it all okay.

Recently I walked downtown and sat in the sun and talked politics with a guy who sits there every day with his dog, and a cat that sits on the dog and two little mice that sit (actually they kind of hunker) on the cat. He feels very lucky. “People are so happy to see me!”

Davey rode his bike to Mexico that day. It seemed pretty typical of our days here in Bisbee. I’ve done a little drawing and Dave has done a little Bird maintenance, and we’ve taken all the side trips that interest us. We watch the Border Patrol looking for aliens and wonder just what they’re doing. Just this morning I looked up and noticed activity on the hill above our park. It’s a great conversation starter, to ask a local just how big a problem it is, with mexicans coming across the border. Yesterday we talked to (listened to) three old guys at the Palominas Trading Post, and they brought us up to date on the coming Minuteman Experiment. Some 1,000 “Minutemen” are coming with horses and camp gear to post themselves along the border and live in the desert and show the government how inefficient the Border Patrol is, compared to what they can do. There certainly seem to be enough Border Patrol staff – they are everywhere, and always in groups of two to six – but the program doesn’t seem to be working. Dave was privy to a situation where a Mexican National brought in some marijuana, sold it, and sat down and waited for the Border Patrol to give him a ride back home. They knew he was there, waiting, but said they were just going to let him wait some more (that’ll teach him) before they picked him up. It’s like a game. Mike and Liz found a house they liked in one of the outer neighborhoods of Bisbee, but said they weren’t prepared to tolerate the noise and lights of Border Patrol helicopters coming over in the night.

We are going to drive the little red car up to Logan for Xander’s naming ceremony. We are both laughing because we’re kind of excited about taking a trip! We feel very comfortable leaving the Bird here for a week. It’s about a 2-day drive; the weather looks okay. When we get back we’ll mosey east to New Mexico and (FINALLY) Truth or Consequences.

We send warm wishes to you all. Thanks so much to all who drop a line now and then. We really don’t expect answers to our missives, but always love to get them. It’s all about connection.

Always Sam