Letter from Home appears weekly in Flagstaff Live! each Thursday, and is written by a rotating cast of Flagstaff-based writers, including Tony Norris, Shonto Begay, Jean Rukkila, Peter Friederici, Darcy Falk, Laura Kelly, Kate Watters, Margaret Erhart, Allison Gruber, Stacy Murison, and an occasional guest writer. Click the Read More button below any of these posts to read the full version and view any images that the authors have shared.
Time to fly…time flies
I suppose most of us are comforted by the fact that when we travel we’re less likely to die in a plane accident than a car accident. But as I board my recent flight, I wonder when time runs out on that adage. Crossing the tarmac to the plane, I consider how small it is. The wind is whipping my hair into my face and my glance at the weather told me that storms settling around Dallas might cause flight delays. Wind and storms. I can’t help but think that maybe my luck flying is limited. I was 13 the first time I flew on an airplane. I...
read moreListen Up
On a recent, overbooked flight, me and the guy behind me—we were at the end of the boarding line—were upgraded to first class. We scurried to stow our carry-ons and buckle in. Buzzed from the unexpectedness of that random sprinkling of fortune, I sank into my leather-upholstered seat, stretched out my legs, and shut my eyes. When I heard the click of my seatmate’s phone, I opened my eyes slightly and watched with my peripheral vision as he snapped his way through takeoff. Photos out the window. Photos of the laminated safety instructions...
read moreShooting the Moon
I never learned to be much of a poker player. In school the game we played during lunch periods or at other odd free times was spades, about which I remember very little. No matter. Another game sticks much more in my memory, and it’s one that I still play on occasion with family and friends: hearts. It was my mother who was the prime instigator of this game. She had been brought up to go on no extended trip without a deck of cards, or two, and even though she had learned to play bridge as well, hearts was the game she chose to shuffle into...
read moreBreaking into Show Biz
Help Wanted: New midtown Italian bistro hiring seasoned hospitality professionals. New York City experience a must. Trattoria Dell’Arte, 900 Seventh Avenue. My inability to pronounce the name should have scared me off. During three years in Manhattan I’d never set foot in a place like Trattoria Dell’Arte. I couldn’t afford to. But in November 1988, I really needed the work. My last full-time job was nine months in the past, and the savings account was nearly empty. My girlfriend and I had just signed a lease....
read morePupusas, Puzzles, and Other Soft Returns
No music today—just a sigh and a lime mead that tasted like summer’s tail was flickering. I hiked in Sandy’s Canyon last week and had nothing profound to say about it. The person walking with me says that a lot. Sometimes, there is just nothing to say. I think there is wisdom in that—and also complacency, depending on the moment. As usual, I find myself half inspired and half annoyed. For a writer, that’s hard, and as someone who gets paid for having something to say, I’m glad I have a lot on my mind. But I’m getting used to the discomfort of...
read moreAh, Boats
At the first sign of spring in my neighborhood, from the top of the street to the bottom, out come the boats. They sit on trailers or atop Subarus and SUVs. They lean against fences and languish in driveways. The street itself becomes an asphalt river, a runway for a beauty contest of boats. Brad, up the hill, is heading to the San Juan with a load of new Doryaks. He came up with the hybrid of dory and SportYak, chubby little wooden wonders, and people like them and ask for more. So he builds more and out they ride on their maiden voyage...
read moreThe Grosbeak, the Dentist, and Me
Dear Friend, I hope this note finds you … Well, I hope this note finds you. I think that is enough for now. I want to tell you about the grosbeak I saw the other day while sitting in my parked car waiting to go into the dentist’s office. I was early, or maybe just not wanting to get out of the car. Recently, the slightest agitations of my body exhaust me. The grosbeak surprised me, flitting from the tree branch to my car. He perched on the sideview mirror, admiring itself, pecking at the glass before moving to the car next to mine and...
read moreShooting the Moon
I never learned to be much of a poker player. In school the game we played during lunch periods or at other odd free times was spades, about which I remember very little. No matter. Another game sticks much more in my memory, and it’s one that I still play on occasion with family and friends: hearts. It was my mother who was the prime instigator of this game. She had been brought up to go on no extended trip without a deck of cards, or two, and even though she had learned to play bridge as well, hearts was the game she chose to shuffle into...
read moreDown Deadman Wash
When you start looking, you see the potsherds everywhere–bits and pieces of the long-ago, scattered throughout the pinyon-juniper forest, standing out in the black volcanic sand like coins on a city street. At the edge of this dry mesa north of Flagstaff you can find pottery fragments in a wild array of colors and styles: Brick-red, slate-grey, cream-colored, black-on-white, black-on-red. The worked clay is smooth-surfaced, coiled or scalloped, sometimes randomly imprinted by human fingertips. For two days I’ve been taking long...
read moreA Mellow Kite-Rave
I wasn’t sure why I was up at 4 AM researching old school Dutch rave classics, but I knew it had something to do with KnoxKind, a young Instagram DJ prodigy who radiates pure joy. Watching him mix on a piece of equipment that probably costs more than my car, I couldn’t help but be pulled into the groove. He introduced me to Have You Never Been Mellow, originally sung by the woman from Grease—Olivia Newton-John. Her voice like candy frosting. The remix is by Keanu Silva. That phrase: Have you never been mellow? It caught me. Because no, I...
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