I woke up one morning and what did I see?
Mostly it was cactus, and rarely was there a tree!
Then I turned around and what was going on?
I saw myself driving out of Tucson!
I found myself driving north on Oracle Road on my way from Tucson to Superior to begin a teaching job there. This was my one day of “orientation,” as I would start classes the following Monday. The high school in Superior, Arizona, had just lost its physics teacher, and I agreed to fill in for the remainder of the school year. And, on this particular Friday morning in October 2007, it was the 30th birthday of my son, Jacob.
Within 30 minutes, Oracle Road had merged into Arizona State Road 79. I could see for miles and miles; I could see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles. A long, good road, with nary a bit of traffic, one could see vast amounts of desert scrub, with scattered saguaro cacti hither and yon. But after a mere 45 miles, evidence of advanced primate habitats began to appear. It was the Mormon town of Florence. Settled by colonists sent by Brigham Young in 1860, Florence is the “seat” of Pinal County.
Before I could start my job, I needed to have my Arizona Teacher Certificate stamped and put on file with the County Superintendent of Schools. Even though I had used MapQuest, I had no luck in locating the Superintendent's office on Bailey Street. So, for a while, I was at a standstill on my quest.
Men don't generally ask for directions, so I am told, but I decided to ask someone anyway. I spotted a hapless pedestrian and asked her where Bailey Street was. “I'm sorry. I'm not from here,” she said. Okay, it was a random bad choice. But certainly a second person walking by would know, so, I asked her the same question, but her reply was, “I'm not from Florence. Sorry.” Zero for two. Hmmm…. Finally, I believed that a man would surely know where this address was. And there he was - a tough-looking old cowboy was walking toward the County Courthouse. I asked him where Bailey Street was, “I don't know nothin' about this town,” he said with a thick drawl. This was amazing. Randomly sampling three humans in this town, and not one of them lived there. I was beginning to wonder if anyone really lived in Florence.
I drove around a while and spotted a dilapidated old structure with a dirty sign, “Visitors Center.” I reasoned that they really had to know. So, I parked my car, and walked up to the door. I slowly opened the portal, with its creaking hinges and loud cowbell around the doorknob. At first, the place was as quiet as a morgue. Then out hobbled some really ancient woman that made the old lady tour guides at the Mormon Visitors Center on Salt Lake's Temple Square look energetic. I told her that I was lost. “You're not lost,” she replied. “You're right here.” What profundity. I asked her where Bailey Street was. Incredulous, she had never heard of it, even though it was obvious that she was among the first settlers in 1860. Then she consulted a map, and found out that Bailey Street was two blocks north.
I thanked her for her lack of help, and drove the two blocks to the address. “This can't possibly be the office of the County Superintendent of Schools,” I thought. It was another really old, adobe mud structure, with crooked windows, and some plaster. The front door had a glass window with the words “County Superintendent of Schools” stenciled on it. However, it looked like it was done in 1940, and the letters were quite worn.
I opened the door and walked inside. Hmmm…. Standard office stuff. Desks, lights, computers, files, and all the modern accouterments of such an office. I asked the young lady if she would “stamp” and register my Educator's Certificate (required if I wanted to teach in that county), and she gladly did so. While she was busily occupied, I took advantage of the restroom and water fountain. Thanking her, I left, and was on my way for the final 30 miles of my trip.
Finding my way out of Florence was easier than finding my way in, and I was on a fast track to Superior. Again, with little or no traffic, I raced quickly to the next highway, US 60, and then onward some 15 miles to Superior.
What a beautiful vista I saw as I came near the city. Large buttes surround part of the eastern edge of town with other lovely rugged mountains nearby. Superior, a town of some 1800 souls, is nearly 3000 feet above sea level. I noticed a sign, “To Old Superior.” Really? I thought all of Superior was “old.” No matter. I searched unsuccessfully for the school's street. Eventually I pulled into a Circle K and asked the man behind the counter. The clerk at the gas station didn't know, as he wasn't “from around here.” (Hmmm… was I experiencing an epidemic of extraterrestrials?) Finally, a pleasant lady approached me and gave me specific, and correct, directions.
