Phoenix 2013

Kathy and I were sojourning in Phoenix for a week. Last year we visited in
September and each day was in the hundreds, so this year we scheduled for November
when the daily high was in the eighties.

Musical Instrument Museum

We traveled north by bus and were in the middle of the

desert when the driver said, “This is it!” All I could see was what
seemed to be a large office building with the logotype of MIM. The
bus pulled away, and then it dawned on us: Musical Instrument
Museum.

We walked around to the

back, or perhaps more accurately, to
the parking lot side (who takes the bus?) where we found
the entrance. MIM is large, new, tastefully designed and
landscaped; about the size of Washington’s Air and Space
Museum.

Upon paying the entrance fee, we were given a brief description of the layout: the
first floor room was for guitars while the upstairs rooms exhibit musical instruments by
continent: Africa; Middle East; Asia; Europe; Canada and the United States. Within each
continent/room are countries with their own sectional displays: the instruments
themselves, and a video of persons playing the instrument. The earphones we were given
pick up the signal of the screen one views. Quite ingenious!

The African room featured more instruments than I would

have guessed. Obviously there were many drums and instruments
that were struck. It amazes me that African drums seem `musical’
rather than just sounding a beat. In addition to ancient, tribal
instruments, there were modern instruments including guitars, both
electrical and non-electrical– some made from oil cans [2681].

While we viewed many countries, I was particularly interested

in those of Turkey and the Middle East, Italy, and the United
States.

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 The Turkish section featured the saz, an instrument that we
have heard a few times in Turkey. The video featured a mehter
band that I had read were employed by the Janissary corps of the
Ottoman Empire, but the notice said that band was only associated
with the royal court. Be that as it may, this mehter band sounded
much better than the recordings I had heard on Turkish websites.

I particularly liked the sound of the morin khuur, a

traditional Mongolian bowed stringed instrument,
producing “a sound which is poetically described as
expansive and unrestrained, like a wild horse neighing, or
like a breeze in the grasslands.” Others might describe it
as someone singing through their nose. Undoubtedly it
may not be music to everyone!

One of the surprising exhibits was a melding of

Bolivian Indian instruments with European baroque music, the
latter introduced by the Jesuits in the process of trying to
convert the indigenous people of South America. It was quite
melodious.

The exhibit of Sardinia included men in animal skins with a

sash of bells and wearing animal masks. The video showed them
walking down a town street and making mock assaults on persons
standing or passing by. I recall that Jane Harrison, in her
Prolegomena to the Study of the Greek Religion described similar
dress and customs of the Pelegians, the people who occupied the
Greek peninsula before the arrival of the Hellenes, that is, the
Greek-speaking peoples.

The exhibit of Italy was a bit disappointing as it featured a harpsichord and a few
accordions.

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 We finished in the room of the United States
and Canada. I came across an exhibit of Blind Lemon
Jefferson of whom I had never heard, but I
remember the CD of the music from the Simpson's
musical in which Homer sings a song which is entitled,
Born Under a Bad Sign but also subtitled, If It
Wasn't for Bad Luck, I'd Have No Luck at All, and at
the end, he considers becoming a blues singer and
considers various names, mainly variations of Blind Lemon Jefferson.

I think now that I'm a blues singer, I should have some kind of name.
How 'bout Muddy Simpson. No. Big Homer. T-Bone Homer.
Blind Lemon Simpson. Blind Lemon-lime Homer. Blind Grapefruit Homer.
Blind Strawberry Alarm Clock Homer. No that's... they used that.

My son Jared has recently become interested in recording, and together with a
colleague, they are now operating a recording studio in Baltimore. Their equipment seems
to be vintage: mixers, tape reels, etc. from the 60's and 70's. I therefore sought
exhibits of this equipment, but as the museum was soon closing, I had little time to
identify that which I was photographing. While the equipment looked professional, many
were probably custom-made rather than mass produced which, according to Jared, was not
unusual.

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Downtown Tempe

Tempe in the city adjacent to Phoenix, and its

principal reason for being is the location of Arizona State
University. Kathy and I were to meet a friend from my
college days at Beloit, and Tempe afforded a location and
transportation convenient for both of us. For Kathy and
me, it was the Metro Light Rail, better described as a
modern street car.

We passed over the Salt River, also

named the Tempe Town Lake, and were
immediately in downtown Tempe. After a
quick stop at the Tempe Tourism Office, we
set out to get coffee and tour the town.
Normally we would seek a Starbucks, but we
were told of a coffee house that imported
and roasted its own beans on-site; so we
trekked five blocks in search of this
lodestone. I caught sight of the sign: Cartel
Coffee Lab. The ‘lab’ was more of an
unfinished warehouse with acoustics to match. The music almost blew-out my hearing aids,
but obviously I was the only one affected. Probably fifty or so ASU students were calmly
glued to their notebook computers, some with headsets even, appearing as though they
were in a zen meditation.

We were told that there was an old section of Tempe, and so

were expecting something like Georgetown or Alexandria. We
walked up and down various streets, but concluded that the
classification period for old to be about 1980. Later we found an
old section that was designated a historic district. It consisted of
seven houses circa 1930.

We walked north on Mill Street, inspecting the various eateries but none qualified
for which we were looking: a relatively quiet place with an interesting menu. These were
mostly hangouts for college students: burgers, pizza and beer.

In two short blocks, we were almost in the desert, or at least that part within the
city limits of Tempe. A mountain, or more precisely, a butte called Hayden Butte Preserve,

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is right in the city! At its base was an abandoned flour mill. It was described as one of
the past economic engines of Tempe, processing the grain grown in central Arizona. ‘They
grow grain in central Arizona?! Who would have thought?

The grain elevator and silos east of the mill were

constructed in 1951 and remained the tallest structures in
Tempe until 2007. The city now owns the property and is
looking for a partner to ‘redevelop’ the property with a
“historically sensitive vision for its reuse.” Good luck with
that!

Phoenix and Tempe both sponsor public art

pieces that are quite avant guard for such a
politically conservative area, but it’s real forte are
large office building sporting high profile
enterprises, principally insurance and high-tech
companies. In completely open space – desert by
our assessment – was a giant office complex with
principle tenants being KPMG, Microsoft, MetLife,
and Citrix. Can’t go wrong with that line-up!

We were looking to have lunch at a restaurant that

supposedly looked over Tempe Lake, and so we started to
walk into beautiful Tempe Beach Park. Cacti were in full
bloom.

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 The natural beauty of this garden was shattered by a couple
who passed. For quite some time, it has been my suspicion that
there is an acute shortage of full-length mirrors in the United
States, for there can be no other explanation for the spectacle so
many Americans present. Had this woman looked in a mirror, she
certainly would not have appeared in public in this state of dress–or
undress to be more precise.

We tried to regain our composure, and so turned our

gaze back to the KPMG building and its adjacent parking
structure. Even here, there were architectural
accessories to beautify this steel and concrete edifice.

We determined that our intended target, the restaurant for lunch, must be in the
complex of office and apartment buildings. We entered the land of behemoths where we
realized that a twin of KPMG was in progress. There might be a glut of houses due to the
mortgage crisis, but there must be a sellers market in office space.

After a misdirection into an apartment complex, we arrived at the restaurant which

did not overlook the Tempe Lake but the rear of the parking structure. It did not create
the anticipated ambience, but the portico provided relief from the intense sun, and a cool
breeze caressed us.

After an unremarkable lunch, we attempted to

chart our path to our next objective: The Tempe Center
for the Arts. We would first have to negotiate the
symplegades of the high rises, and so I volunteered to
scout a way through. I found a small plaza that featured
a fountain at its end. As I was reading a plaque, the
maintenance man volunteered to give me an architectural
tour. The fountain commemorated the dock of the
Hayden Ferry that crossed the Salt River. He informed me that the building was designed
as a ship. Looking closely, I noticed the resemblance of a prow and a stern. ‘Com’on inside,’
he motioned.

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 With Sails
Stern and Rudder
Prow

We entered a relatively small lobby with two portals on either side of the security
desk. The wall backing the outside was an iridescent blue, and the ceiling curved as though
we were under the hull of a ship. Under the ‘hull’ was a sitting area with absolutely no
lighting save that of the iridescent blue walls on either side. A lone man was sitting and
talking on his cellular telephone. It reminded me of the inner sanctum of one of the
villains of a James Bond movie.

Wall of ‘Water’ Bottom of the Hull Inner Sanctum

My tour guide had to return to his duties, and so I continued my scouting

assignment, which I successfully completed. Kathy and I resumed our expedition, now
walking along the Salt River.

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 We passed under the New Tempe Bridge, built in
1994, and then the Old Tempe Bridge, built in 1931, both
quite charming, especially with the reflections of the sun
and blue sky off the water. Further on were the new
Phoenix Metro Light Rail bridge and a vintage railroad
bridge. Nothing sleek nor mellow here, but the rivets and
bulk gave it a feeling of strength and longevity. It had
Old Tempe Bridge
been built to last despite the rust.

The weight of the railroad seem to press into the

ground while the new utility poles seem to raise their arms
to the sky, or like an anhinga holding out its feathered
wings to dry.

We reached the Tempe Center for the Arts. The water from a large infinity pool
flows over its sides to create an almost clear sheet of water falling into a trough. A man
was taking photographs of the water, and so I asked him what characteristic of the water
was he trying to capture. He explained that he had just purchased this camera, and he
was trying to use a shutter-speed so fast that the water would appear to be standing still.
With my digital point and shoot, I was not in his class, but he showed me the shots he had
taken. Falling water! Not particularly interesting, I thought! But wait! What was that?
Seemingly black and white photos of metal filigree! “Where did you take those,” I asked?
Arizona Falls! I was beginning to realize that there is more water in Arizona that one
would imagine; but a falls? He described the site and its location: Kathy and I had a new
site to explore.

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 As with the Musical Instrument Museum, the
surrounding grounds of the art center were beautifully
landscape with all sorts of cactus plants and blooming flowers.
We found the entrance to the Center which was designated by
a peculiar triangular, convex awning.

We were thinking an art gallery, and there

was one, but the major facility was a theater which
was closed. Still, we perused the paintings in the
gallery, but Kathy had spotted an outdoor piece
that she was intent on finding. It was spectacular.

We watched the sun descend to the horizon from the third floor observation deck,
and then returned home in the dark while the temperature plunged rapidly.

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Downtown Phoenix

They do big in Phoenix. For a city that is in the desert where, I assume, land has to
be cheap, Phoenix builds high. With today’s sleek designs, there’s not much an architect
can do to arrest one’s eye. Compare the new Alliance Bank with the old Maricopa County
Courthouse and Phoenix City Hall building.

One side: Maricopa

Courthouse Other side: City Hall

I noted that this same combination was built in Chicago in which the Cook County
Courthouse is combined with Chicago’s City Hall. Though back to back and mirror images
of each other, one cost more than the other–but that might be unique to Chicago!]

The Maricopa Courthouse and City Hall building, was built in 1929 in a Spanish
Colonial Revival style and uses a variety of architectural decorations: anecones (s-scrolls),
pateras, rusticated masonry, and two-story Palladian windows with decorative spandrel
panels.

In contrast, the Alliance Bank building only uses the

alternating steel and glass horizontal lines on the front and vertical
strips on the side, yet it is arresting because it reflects the blue
Arizona sky plus reflections from adjacent buildings. However,
many of Phoenix’s modern buildings still use sandstone as indicated
in the circular building adjacent to the Alliance Bank building and
the Municipal Building and Courthouse Building.

Alliance Bank

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 The Maricopa Courthouse is noteworthy for two other reasons: first, U.S. Supreme
Court justices William Hubbs Rehnquist and Sandra Day O’Connor1 were judges in this
building. Second, it was here that Ernesto Miranda was convicted of kidnaping and rape of
an 18-year-old girl in which he signed a statement admitting his guilt but was not informed
of his rights to remain silent and to be represented by counsel.

The institution of informing an arrestee of his/her rights

seems to have been Ernesto’s only contribution to society. His
violations of the law are too numerous to list here, but suffice to
say that he was released and then re-arrested on the strength of an
actual witness and sentenced to 20 to 30 years on two counts to be
served concurrently. After his release, he earned money by selling
autographed Miranda Warning cards but continued his criminal life
style. Then, while playing cards in La Amapola Bar in Phoenix, there
was a violent confrontation, and he was mortally wounded with a
knife. The suspect was arrested and read his Miranda rights. Upon
his release, then absconded to Mexico and the case was
closed. I suppose you could call that justice.

The new Maricopa Courthouse is definitely a

contrast to the old one. It is a semicircle with a huge
concave entrance way. It’s only other remarkable feature
is a flagpole affixed to its front. Let’s hope that the
accommodations are less crowded than those of the old
courthouse, which, unexpectedly, have been retained as a
museum piece. This cell, probably 12' by 20' contains
twelve bunks and nothing more.

1
They graduated in the same class at Stanford and actually dated. Good grief!

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 While we’re on the subject of
courthouses, a further block west is the Sandra
Day O’Connor U.S. District Courthouse built in
2000. Six stories tall and providing 550,000
square feet of space, this structure could be
mistaken for the U.S. Airways Area which hosts
the Phoenix Suns professional basketball team.
Although part of the General Services
Administration's initiative to bring design
excellence to public buildings, this building has
been plagued with climate-control problems with
Sandra Day O’Connor U.S. District Courthouse
its evaporative-cooling system. Temperatures in
the atrium have been known to reach 100 °F (38 °C) in the summer, and the ceiling is open
to dust storms. To top it off, there is no public parking.

Most courthouses prohibit the use of cameras; some

even prohibit the use of computers. I wanted to take a few
photos of the interior of the city hall, but checked with
security before doing so. Phoenix is not as paranoid as other
places. In addition to granting approval, the guard told me
that many people take photos of a burned out church just down
the street, and so we investigated. Indeed, we could see the
burnt roof of the campanile of the First Baptist Church (302
First Baptist Church
West Monroe), “best known for brining Adobe Revival
architecture to Phoenix.” It was “saved from demolition in 1992" which means that it has
been abandoned for more than twenty years. The roof of the church is gone, and so the
interior must be completely ruined. Little hope for this building!

We continued our wanderings, and I hoped to find the Cesar

Chavez Memorial Plaza. Again I thought it surprising that a city
that supports Joe Arpaio as sherif,
no friend of immigrant workers,
would dedicate a public space to a
union organizer that fought
agribusinesses. Space is about all
they gave him: trees and a few
New City Hall
benches but no statue and not even a
plaque to identify the site.
Phoenix Municipal Courthouse

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 Having wandered down streets with buildings that
attracted our interest rather than following a planned route, we
took out a map and tried to find our bearings. As we rotated the
map one way and then another, a woman asked if she could help.
We accepted her offer and after finding our location, she asked
what we were looking for. We explained our
interest in architecture and historical buildings,
and so she urged us to visit the Hotel San
Carlos. At first I demurred as we have viewed
it on our previous visit, but she recommended
its Vietnamese restaurant, and as we were
famished, it became our next objective. The
Hotel San Carlos
hotel has a three-tier facade plus a penthouse.
Most intriguing is a lone balcony on the fifth floor with a bright red Hotel San Carlos
awning.

We walked into a modern but tastefully appointed restaurant called Bonjour

Vietnam. We were told that the specialty was spring rolls with rice paper. “Go with what
they know” is a good rule of thumb. We were not disappointed, especially with the
accompanied peanut sauce. The waiter also brought a three-dish condiment of sauces with
a brief explanation: this one’s hot, and I could tell from his intonation that he was serious;
this one’s mild with a sweet and salty taste; and this one has a smoky taste. He was spot-
on!

I took a brief tour of the first floor of the hotel. It was quaint and fascinating;
old for sure; and a little too dark. I always suspect that something is being hidden. I later
read a review of the hotel from someone who stayed there, and he was quite pleased:
“original beauty just cleaned up, and modern plumbing put in. It was very clean and quaint.”
An article of its history states:

1928-1960 During this time, the hotel

continued to be a hub for the Phoenix
elite, political and social, as well as a
Mecca for Hollywood stars. Mae West
stayed here in 1929 while performing at
the Orpheum Theatre, 203 W. Adams, in
"I'm no angel". It was reported she left
orders with the front desk to "not be
awaked until 3:00pm with a bottle of Orpheum Theater
champagne and two glasses."

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 Clark Gable and Carole Lombard spent much of their romantic time here in
Arizona at the San Carlos. Gable often referred to Lombard as the "love of
his life." Marilyn Monroe was a guest during her filming of Bus Stop. She
wanted a room close to the pool on the third floor, so that she could slip out
to the deck and sunbath with the least amount of attention.

Still, I think that l’d rather stay at the Embassy Suites!

44 Monroe Street Building Luhrs Tower United Health Care building

I continued to snap photographs of high-rise buildings though not worth mentioning,

but the Luhrs Tower (1932), which is adjacent to the Luhrs Building (1924). Both were
built in the art deco style though the Tower seems to have a more prominent display. I
found little to relate as to its history.

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Desert Botanical Garden

It was bright and sunny Saturday morning, and as I

hadn’t had a decent cup of coffee since Tuesday, we stopped
at the Starbucks in front of the bus stop. In perusing the
surroundings, we noticed the two statues of a horse, which,
upon further inspection, we identified as unicorns. Why two
‘life-size’ (?!) unicorns as entry points to a strip mall? We
had no clue, but there they were! And upon additional
inspection, Kathy pointed out that they were not only
anatomically correct, but they were circumcised as well. I
imagined an archaeologist unearthing these artifacts two
thousands years from now and writing a Ph.D. thesis on their
possible significance.

We took the No. 44 bus south to McDowell, and then the No.
17 east to Gavin Road and the Desert Botanical Garden. We
entered; perhaps the unicorns had altered my perspective as, for my
first photograph, I selected a planter that resembled the same
anatomical appendage.

Being Autumn, there were few flowers blooming, but the gardeners must have
thought that the place needed color, and so Chihuly glass was planted liberally throughout.
Dale Chihuly is a glass maker extraordinaire who doesn’t just make plates and bowls but
glass objects of fantastic sizes and shapes. For a botanical garden, I side with Mies [van
der Rohe]: less is more. And in this case, I would have preferred a lot less!!

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I find the natural world to be fantastic enough.

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Traveling by Bus in Phoenix

My college friend who lives in Phoenix asks why don’t I rent a car when we visit Phoenix.
This question comes from a guy who owns a Jaguar sedan and a Jaguar convertible. On the
other hand, there’s no denying that I’m cheap. I couldn’t stand the thought of paying about
$80 per day to drive five miles and then pay another $25 to park. And so Kathy and I take
public transportation.

The Phoenix transit system is excellent. The Phoenix metropolitan area is not as dense
as Chicago, so the buses don’t run as frequently, BUT they run on schedule, and I don’t mean
just approximately. They run almost to the minute. The frequency varies with the route:
every fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, or one hour. Where bus routes intersect, the waiting
time is usually about fifteen minutes. As a bus approaches a major intersection, the name of
the street is announced; if it is the route of another bus, the number of that bus number is
announced, e.g., “transfer to route 170.”

The Metro Light Rail is limited in coverage: there is only one line that runs south from
northwest Phoenix to downtown Phoenix, and then east to Tempe and Mesa – two adjacent
towns. There was a proposal to run the Metro north through Scottsdale, but the residents of
that city apparently didn’t want the hoi polloi too easily invade their realm. Their loss! The
Light Rail is clean, quiet, and smooth!

Kathy and I observed several social aspects of the Metro system that contrast to those
of Chicago and Washington, D.C. First, if the conveyance is crowded, younger people invariably
offer us their seat. It’s a little unsettling to realize that we are now clearly recognized as
senior citizens; on the other hand, it gladdens the heart to know that people are observant and
considerate. I add also that this courtesy is demonstrated by high school kids irrespective of
gender and ethnic appearance.

No doubt the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 requires lifts to enable persons in
wheelchairs to board buses, but I’ve hardly seen it used except in Phoenix. Almost every ride
we’ve taken has someone board the bus using the lift. The bus driver gets out of his seat,
clears the seating area, operates the lift, and then gets down on his knees to secure the
wheelchair. This is done without an air of aggravation or disgust which would be my
expectation of bus drivers and riders in Chicago and Washington, D.C. Perhaps I have a cynical
view of my home towns.

The last act of courtesy is one that even I find too much: thanking the driver and
saying goodbye upon exiting. It’s not as though the driver went out of his/her way; it’s his/her
job for gosh sakes! Still, this courtesy makes for a more pleasant experience, and so I applaud
this ritual.

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 Kathy and I did have one negative experience in contrast to the bus systems of Chicago
and Washington, D.C. Last September, we were waiting for a bus. The temperature was one
hundred and five degrees in the shade – and there was no shade! We were waiting in front of a
high school that had just released its inmates, so there were probably fifteen of us waiting.
The bus pulled up and stopped, but the driver denied everyone entry: “The bus is full! I can’t
take any more passengers!” And off she drove. As the bus passed, I noted people standing in
the aisle, but I could see space between them. Crowded?! Get on the LaSalle Street bus at
rush hour, or the Metro train in Washington, D.C. at rush hour, or after a Nationals baseball
game, and I’ll show you crowded! You’ll be in someone’s personal space along with two other
people!

There’s an old saying: Where you sit is where you stand. It means that your social and
economic situation greatly influences your political stance. Not doubt one’s personal socio-
economic situation is the most determinative, but it’s the social milieu in which one ‘travels’ –
figuratively and literally – from which one extrapolates to society as a whole. If you drive your
Jaguar from Scottsdale to the Alliance Bank in Phoenix, you will have one view of our society in
contrast to taking the Phoenix buses.

Those who ride the bus in Phoenix are not the great unwashed, although a few women,
have attempted to overwhelm their body odor with perfume that sends me into a sneezing fit.
Most I would take to be productive members of society though I would guess that their
productivity, as measured by their income, is on the lower end of the scale. Let me share a
few general observations of my fellow passengers, who I would venture to guess, were not
visiting a Phoenix art museum or the botanical garden.

In the morning, or late afternoon, there are high school kids, as boisterous and
expressive as any, and dressed fashionably in a style that defies description and classification.
My only regret is that of not being able to see their reactions when they view photographs of
themselves thirty years from now.

Their successors are in their late teens or early twenties. They seem to be mostly non-
Hispanic and Caucasian, but a few are African-American. As opposed to the packs of
teenagers, they travel solo. They are quiet and usually intent on reading their iPod, though the
girls may be adding finishing touches to their makeup. One would suspect that some are
students, but they never carry a book or briefcase. Are those tools of learning obsolete?

The next category is also young but included Hispanics and African-Americans. They
wear a ‘uniform’ which may be only black pants and a black T-shirt for the men, and black pants
and a white dress shirt for the women, or a shirt with the logo of the company for which they
are employed: restaurants, fast food outlets, grocery stores, hair salons, gas stations, etc.
Regarding the last employment, Kathy overheard a conversation among three car washers who

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were excitedly sharing information as to how much money they had made that day: “$95,”
“over a hundred,” etc. Kathy said she almost turned around and said, “Shut up, already! You
want to get yourself killed?” Maybe they can share that information in Phoenix, but in Chicago
or Washington, D.C., they’ll be sharing their earning with the guys who get off the bus with
them.

There are a few laborers–guys who are wearing dirty shirts and pants having worked
construction or a maintenance job; their hair is long and disheveled, their skins is dark–
sometimes even burnt. You can see the tiredness in their eyes. They are probably tasting that
first gulp of beer as they stare ahead or study their shoes.

Lastly, there are the vagabonds. No doubt this label is more my impression than
knowledge of their situation, but it’s hard to imagine that they are going to work dressed in
flip-flops, shorts, and tank-top, usually unshaved or with a long beard. They seem not to be
fully recovered from last night’s excess. Even though they carry nothing, it usually takes them
a minute or so to find their fare card, or to fumble through three or four pockets putting
enough change together to make the fare. I can only wonder as to where they are going.

There are the shoppers. They are lugging two bags of groceries
plus a twelve-pack of toilet rolls. They climb aboard, shift their
packages from one arm to another, perform several contortions in an
effort to find their fare card, then lurch down the aisle to a vacant
seat into which they swing themselves while flinging down their load in
one grand gesture. I often have had an urge to applaud! And then
there are those who push the envelop. One morning, a short man of
Asian descent got on the bus with two grocery bags and a little folding
luggage cart. On the cart, he had a plastic box filled with goods, and
over the boxes lay a bag of rice – not a little bag but probably a 20-pound bag. And so began
his vaudeville act: he put one of the bags down, but then it fell over and some of its contents
began to escape; he caught those, but then the luggage cart tipped which he righted with his
knee, etc. This act was performed in the narrow passage between the driver’s seat and the
right wheel housing forcing the on-coming passengers to dance lightly between the cart and
bags. All seem to take this in perfect stride (no pun intended) as though it was no
inconvenience at all.

But the real performance stars are the mothers with children. A typical example was a
mother, who, in her right hand held the strap of a small carrying case that contained a sleeping
puppy, while in her left arm she held an infant. When she rose to debark, she then had to grab
a stroller. Kathy grabbed the stroller, swung it to me, and I handed it to the woman as she
stepped down from the bus. We awarded her a total score of 13: 6 for degree of difficulty
and 7 for performance. The winner was a woman with a six-year old daughter, twin boys age

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four, her elderly mother who also was holding a baby, bags of groceries, and a two-passenger
stroller. Perhaps the boys had separation anxiety, for they screamed and refused to go down
the aisle but continually jumped off the bus to their mother. Finally, she got on the bus, then
pulled her mother aboard, the boys, and finally the stroller. We had to give her a 9 for degree
of difficulty. A recalcitrant or drunken husband would have given her a 10. We were going to
give her only a 4 for the boarding, but swinging the boys, her mother with baby, and the
stroller lifted her performance score to a 9 for a total score of 18. Cheers from the crowd!

At the end of a long day of sight-seeing, walking, and waiting for buses, I’m usually quite
tired, ready for dinner served to me, a little time watching television, then sleep. Somehow, I
don’t think that’s how the day ends for these mothers.

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