Amazing Grace in the Philippines

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The Valley of Hell is in the middle of its "monsoon" season, which sounds like it should be raining a lot. In point of fact, last year during the monsoon it did not rain at all in the western part of the Valley. Generally it does cloud up some and look like it could rain - maybe once a week or so, but the heat invariably forces the rain clouds off toward San Diego or someplace civilized. Last night, however, an honest-to-God storm blew up around 10 p.m. (2200 hours for my buddies in the Air Force!), with lightening, thunder, sound, and fury. A wind gust hit Luke AFB, my neighbor, measuring 69 m.p.h. Almost as an after thought, my power went off for about one minute - just long enough where I had to rest everything!

And it rained all night and well into the morning!

This afternoon after work I discovered that I had no television reception. After checking outside to make sure that my satellite receiver hadn't taken off to Oz, I called DISH Network and talked to their machine awhile. The machine finally got fed up with my verbal abuse, and transferred me to a human. Her name was Grace and she sounded as though she was all of fourteen-years-old. Grace spent about thirty minutes leading me through the process of reprogramming both of my remote controls. She was calm, thorough, and very good at her job.

While we were waiting on various things to happen on the screen, I chatted with this young lady. She told me that she was manning a phone in the Philippines, and I told her about my good friend, Odessa Benson, who is from the Philippines and recently visited there. When Grace learned that I worked for the Air Force, she wanted to know if I was a pilot - a very logical supposition. I thought carefully about how to respond to that, and finally opted for honesty!

Grace was very patient and eventually walked me through the entire process. It was a very good experience. DISH Network is so much friendlier, easier to work with, and more honest than my previous provider - Cox Cable Sucks! I made such a good decision in changing over to satellite.

An Impending Rupture of the Belly

by Pa Rock
Drama Critic

Odessa Benson got a group together tonight and we all descended on Tempe to see the Stray Cat Theatre's latest offering, a tragedy entitled An Impending Rupture of the Belly. This was the third Stray Cat production that I've seen, and all have been well worth the cost of admission and the drive across Phoenix.

A tragedy is a story that is destined to end badly. This was a simple tale of a young husband, soon to be a father, whose world is slowly falling in on him. Clay struggles to control his environment through grandiose plans, but in reality he can't even keep the neighbor's dog from taking a daily dump on his yard. The dog is crapping on the yard, and life is crapping on Clay. His spiral is constant, and it is downward, and it ends very badly indeed.

Michael Peck was the actor who was totally submerged into Clay. He was on stage throughout almost the entire production, displaying a range of intensity and emotion that was remarkable. Scott C. Jeffers played Clay's supervisor who prodded and goaded him into misbehavior, while Courtney Weir was Clay's pregnant wife who kept trying to tug him back into reality. Tom Leveen portrayed Clay's brother, Ray, who was somewhat drug-addled and irresponsible, and, regardless of intention, always seemed to complicate Clay's life. Larry F. Penunuri, Jr. was the neighbor with the defecating dog. Each member of the cast was a master of their craft, but it was Peck and Penunuri who gave this play its major friction.

Ron May directed An Impending Rupture of the Belly. When this season ends in April, the very talented Mr. May will have directed three of the four productions presented by The Stray Cat. The Phoenix New Times, the Valley's ass-kicking alternative newspaper and the bane of our infamous sheriff, has recognized Ron May as "The Best Thespian to Keep an Eye On."

The Stray Cat Theatre is alternative theatre at its best. Their productions are quirky, edgy, and thought-provoking. They choose superior scripts, form casts from the best talent the Valley, and confront their audiences with extreme reality. An evening at the Stray Cat is always an engrossing and disturbing experience.

The Remains of the Trip

by Pa Rock
Weary Traveler

I am safely home in Arizona, but getting here was truly a comedy of errors. Please read on...

To begin with my flight plans were a horror show, thanks primarily to my own naivete. I had airline tickets that the group bought - New York to Detroit to Kansas City - and airline tickets that I bought - Kansas City to Minneapolis to Phoenix (no direct flights!). When I boarded in New York yesterday, they would only give me boarding passes for New York and Detroit - even though all of my flights that day would be on Northwest Airlines. I did talk the clerk at Northwest in New York into checking my luggage all the way through to Phoenix.

My travels were complicated by the fact that the cold that I had been fighting for several days had settled in my head. The pressure during take-offs and landings was especially painful, and I felt like my ears were going to explode and cover my fellow passengers in industrial strength ear wax!

The day was uneventful until we tried to leave Detroit. I had a little over a two-hour window to catch my next flight out of Kansas City, but we were pulled off of the runway in Detroit to replace a compass that had gone out. While that was being accomplished, a passenger became ill, had to receive emergency medical treatment, and was removed from the plane. We had to wait on the new compass to be brought in and installed, and then we had to wait while the medical supplies that were used on the ill passenger were replaced. When we got to Kansas City, I hustled one counter over just as they began boarding for the flight to Minneapolis. Rush, rush, rush!

While I was enroute to Minneapolis, Carla called and left me a message saying that my suitcase had been off-loaded in Kansas City, and she had taken it to the Northwest baggage office and told them to get it to Phoenix pronto. When I arrived in Phoenix shortly before midnight I went to their baggage office and was told that my suitcase would be in Phoenix by noon the next day, and it would be delivered directly to me!

Great! It had been a helluva day, but life was once again beautiful. All I had to do was contact the shuttle from the Parking Spot, get my car out of hawk, and race for home where I would crash until time for my suitcase to get in.

It wasn't until the shuttle pulled up behind my car at the Parking Spot that I realized that my keys were in my suitcase - which was in Kansas City. I told the manager just to drop me at their office and I would call a cab. But a lifetime of good living suddenly paid off when the only other people on the shuttle, a young couple named Mason and Christy, asked where I lived. Goodyear, I replied sadly because nobody but me and the scorpions live that far out. Oh, they said, we live in Surprise (a community that neighbor's Goodyear), and we'll take you home. Praise Allah!

"I've always depended on the kindness of strangers." Blanche DuBois

On the way to Goodyear, another thought occurred to me. My apartment key was also in the suitcase that was vacationing in Kansas City. (Can you see what kind of day I was having?) I had Mason and Christy drop me at the apartment office so that I could get the management's evening number off of the door. There I discovered that those fine folks at Palm Valley Luxury Rentals no longer kept their phone numbers on the door - probably to eliminate those pesky after-hours calls. I found a young man in the apartment complex computer center and got him to let me into the office. He didn't know the number, but found it on-line. After three calls to the emergency number, I decided that Palm Valley probably wasn't that into emergencies, so I arranged couple of chairs on my porch and prepared to sleep outside - sitting up.

Almost an hour later one of the managers called and said that she would drive in to unlock my door. She assured me that she could be there in just forty-five minutes. But, a maintenance worker responded a few minutes later and saved her the trip.

I did get up this morning before my suitcase arrived. After fishing out my keys, I got on the Internet and finally located a phone number for a co-worker who was able to give me Benson's number. God love Odessa and Bobby - they rushed right over and drove me across the Valley of Hell to pick up my car.

So I'm home, my suitcase is home, and my little car is home! Tomorrow I will go back to work at a job that I love - and Barack Obama will start his new job. Things are getting better and better!

Benson

by Pa Rock

My friend Benson is a senior airman in the Air Force. She is a mental health technician in the unit where I work. Benson was born in the Philippines and arrived in the United States after residing for awhile in Canada. She recently received her United States' citizenship.

Occasionally Benson and her husband, Bobby, and their housemate, Jeremy, drag me out of my apartment to share an adventure. We have been to a couple of very good plays and also taken in the activities of two First Fridays in downtown Phoenix. Last night was another Benson adventure.

Benson (her given name is Giovanna - which is very pretty, but she goes by Odessa - which is very Texas) plans on becoming a social worker. To strengthen that effort she does volunteer work that will eventually shine on a resume. Benson is currently a volunteer with the International Rescue Committee, an organization that helps refugees get established in this country. She is a sponsor for a large family from Burundi.

Last night Benson had plans to take her refugee family to see the Christmas lights in Glendale. I got invited to go along because she wants to get me involved with the IRC and figured that some first-hand involvement would get me hooked. She also needed an extra car and driver to get her trip on the road.

I arrived at Benson's half-an-hour early and played with their dogs (or did the dogs play with me?) while she and Bobby and Jeremy got ready. They were wrapping some last minute holiday gifts for the family from Burundi, and Bobby was experimenting with their new camera - something that would become an important part of the evening to come. When things were finally organized, we convoyed over to the apartment of the refugees.

The Burundi family was delightful. The father, Emanuel, and the mother, Justina, appeared to be about the age of my children. They had five children (four boys and a girl) ranging in age from twelve down to around two). They had arrived in Arizona several months before from Burundi by way of a few years in Tanzania. Getting into their home required hugging everyone and shaking several hands. We were immediately offered some non-alcoholic cider that was shortly followed up a large hot and spicy omelet prepared for the group. I passed on the cider, but accepted a portion of omelet for the specific purpose of not offending our hosts. It was delicious!

The excessive holiday lights of old town Glendale were a hit, especially with the kids. Every palm tree (a couple of which had to be sixty feet tall) had their trunks wrapped in colored lights, and many had their fronds outlined in lights as well. Every building and bush was also aglitter. The kids eagerly posed everywhere and then crowded around Bobby to see their digital images on his camera. Before the evening ended, we stopped in a local cafe and had hot chocolate for ten.

I think that Benson has sold me on the International Rescue Committee. It was obvious that she and Bobby - and Jeremy - were getting as much out of the experience as their Burundi family. Everybody was benefiting, and everybody was happy!

It was a beautiful evening.

Oh, McBush! Wherefore Art Thou?

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Arizona has been surprisingly devoid of McBush campaign paraphernalia, especially considering that it is the old fart's home state. Indeed, until a week ago the only bumper stickers that I had seen out and about in this wretched desert were those supporting Obama. Now I can at least report that I have seen three McBush bumper stickers in the Valley of Hell, and all, of course, were on large expensive vehicles.

Last night I went to downtown Phoenix to enjoy First Friday - a street fair held on the first Friday of every month - with my friends, Bobby and Odessa Benson their housemate Jeremy. We handed out Obama bumper stickers and buttons to the hundreds of people who were wandering the streets and enjoying the fair. There were many Obama supporters there, some holding signs for passing drivers to see, some handing out cards for voters to request ballots by mail, and many just talking to people about the candidate.

The most significant thing about last night, though, wasn't about what all of the Obama people were doing, it was the total lack of any McBush workers or activities at the event. There were no bumper stickers, signs, or political activity in support of Arizona's first Presidental candidate in a generation. Zip, nada, nothing! There was no McBush buzz in the middle of America's fourth largest metropolitan area - the city that he calls home! (Well, one of his homes, anyway!) I was almost embarrassed for him - but not quite!

I read this week that McBush has pulled the plug on his operation in Michigan. Has he thrown in the towel in Arizona, too?

Change is coming, and I think it may just be in the form of a landslide!