Welcome to “Tucsonista,” where it’s all about the Old Pueblo.
The last 25 years have been spent in this town, and before that there were a few more years, much of which passed on the campus of the University of Arizona.
Tucson is more of a hometown than any other place I’ve lived, and not merely in chronological terms. I like the place. I like the weather, I like the geography, I like the lifestyle.
There’s something particularly compelling about the wide open spaces and the occasional interruptions by towering mountains, thrust upward by ancient geological motion.
It’s not the same city it was when my family first visited, bringing our red station wagon to the local Chevy dealer from our home at the army post an hour or so south of here. It’s not the same city it was when I arrived after my stint in the Air Force, GI Bill in hand, ready to begin my pursuit of higher education.
But it is my home, and I want to celebrate it, to share it with others, and to have them embrace it as fully and lovingly as did my wife when I brought her here.
There really is more to it than being able to walk barefoot to the mailbox on Christmas Day. Though that’s certainly a big chunk of it.