Bisbee, Arizona

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Dear Bisbee,

It's been a long time since I've written you. You and yours are always in my thoughts. It's funny you know, this thing called 'living abroad'. I know you cannot really understand my absence from your stairways, nor can you explain my presence here...neither can I. Destiny has a way of taking over you know.

Do not believe what they say about me though. I realize that those that chose to remain behind did so with good reason. The world is not a place I desire to send my children into nor would I go there myself without having misplaced a certain amount of reason. That's how destiny is.

I often contemplate the similarities of Bisbee and sometimes even have the opportunity to meet someone who has presented them self uninvited at your doorstep. Like at the Louvres a few years ago...that miner with his cap from Morenci. Yes, you are an elite group, there is no doubt. Even the worst of you is better than those I've met elsewhere. I hear William Shatner has shot a movie scene or two on our lovely streets. I imagine him wandering past my old home or down near the gully...what must that guy think? As if some foreigner can jump into the plot like that! Reminds me of when I was a kid and John Wayne started coming around and ended up buying the old Jail. Now that's certainly ironic.

I read about you all the time. If it weren't for my early experiences of marching in the High School Band in your fabulously small town renditions of The Annual Fourth of July Parade, I'd swear that Bisbee is the Coda of all songs written everywhere. But no, there's nothing that can compare, even with musical notation, to the Fourth of July as it is honored on the streets of Warren, Arizona...a subsidiary of greater Bisbee, the famous old ghost town sought only by tourist needing something to do after realizing Tombstone is just a blitz of postcards and sand filled souvenirs depicting roadrunners. There's nothing to compare.

How surprised they must be!

That someplace tucked away near the Mexican border can display such a sense of unabashed loyalty to a theme. But just what is that theme Mr. Shatner? Is it the folks who looked at you from their parted blinds or is it the patronizing offering of homemade Organic Brownies by a relocated Californian? I'd really like to know how you behaved there. Perhaps you missed that. Perhaps you were aware that some of those old coots didn't bother much about Captain Kirk's Big Movie. From what I gathered, I ain't off the mark.

After all, we are southerners. We say double-ya, not double-yew. But what would you know, Mr. Shatner, of all that. It's as good as outer space, in the end.

Regards,

Maggie P

Maggie P

Submitted: Wednesday 4th February 2004, 2:19 AM

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