Why
do you live in Arizona?
This was the question
I was asked with
great frequency
while spending a
week in San Diego.
Usually, I just
smile and shrug
it off, knowing
that most folks
who ask really don’t
expect an answer.
But last week was
different. From
the waiter to the
grocery clerk, everyone
seemed truly interested
in why a person
of supposed sound
mind would want
to live in our fair
state. Hey, I was
a little bit insulted.
One
lady who owns the
local coffee shop
at Imperial Beach
recognizes me because
I go there every
year. She wondered
out loud what “hell
on earth” would
feel like living
in Arizona in the
summer. A customer
chimed in that he
drove through Phoenix
one July day, parked
his car and burned
the skin off his
hands when he got
back in it and grabbed
the steering wheel.
Another person laughed
that he once was
in Phoenix when
it was 115 degrees
and never had the
nerve to go back.
What’s wrong with
these people?
Actually,
I try to avoid all
manner of “why”
questions. They
are a bit intrusive
and any answer is
taken as a weak
defense. Instead,
I like to smile
and say I love the
heat, hate the cold
and leave it at
that However, after
about the tenth
question and “heat
story,” I decided
to take the offensive.
“Why do you choose
to live at the ocean,
in such balmy weather,”
was one retort.
“Why live in paradise
when the desert
is right next door,”
was my other question
to their question.
Ha! Suddenly people
stopped asking and
scratched their
heads.
The
man I rent the beach
house from said
that he can’t understand
how people survive
the heat during
a Phoenix summer.
He elaborated that
it may be cheaper
to live in Arizona
(I’m not so sure
anymore), but why
“exist in misery”
when the ocean is
just five hours
away? I told him
(with a straight
face) that some
folks like misery,
seek out punishment
and love dust, drought
and prickly cactus.
I went on to add
that some folks
like the feeling
of burning up alive.
The poor man didn’t
talk to me much
after tha conversation.
So
why do we live where
we live? There was
a whole week of
surfing and wave
watching for
me to think back
how I was raised
in Ohio, lived in
San Francisco for
fifteen years, and
ended up a desert‑dweller.
After much introspection,
I still love our
great state and
don’t want to explain
“why.” Maybe Arizona
doesn’t have obvious
beauty, like some
other places, and
I guess our scenery
is more of an acquired
taste. So what if
summers are rough?
No place is perfect.
Where
else can you sit
and watch the monsoons
roll in and relish
a thunderstorm?
Sunsets are the
best in the world,
right here in our
backyards. Our wildlife
is abundant and
fun to watch, the
cactus are beautiful
and our houses and
neighborhoods are
clean and pretty.
Okay, so we suffer
when it’s triple
digits, but we seem
to survive.
One
lady at a gas station
told me that she
would “cry every
day” if she had
to live more than
two blocks away
from an ocean. A
surfer told me that
without a beach
and a wave, life
wouldn’t be worth
living. I told them
both that I’m happy
for them and left
it at that. It’s
good to feel passionate
about where you
live. It’s a great
thrill to take a
wild ride on a long‑board,
skimming the tops
of shimmering waves.
Living in Arizona
is a different type
of ride. No wetsuit
is required, no
questions asked.
If you’re here more
than a few minutes,
you know you love
it. Zonies (as Californians
lovingly call us)
unite–we do have
good taste.
