The Importance of Family

The next morning, I packed a quick overnight bag, shared breakfast with my cousins before they left for school and jumped in the car to drive down to Tucson to visit with my Uncle Rick, my Aunt Louise and my three older cousins; Matt, Tim and Adam. Two hours later down I-10, I was pulling into their house on the western edge of the city.

I've always enjoyed visiting Tucson. It's small, and granted, I've never really done much else there other than stay and visit with my family, but there's something very subtle about it that I've always enjoyed. Maybe it's that many of the mysteries of the Old West lie within just a few miles of its boundaries. Maybe it's that just up into the hills lie a multitude of hidden oasis's nestled between the desert crags of the Santa Catalinas. Or maybe, and most likely, it's because I have vivid memories of visiting Tucson as a child, my first visit to the southwest, and that those memories have created for me a unique charm about the area.

Unfortunately, some things had changed. About a year beforehand, my Aunt Louise was diagnosed with terminal cancer; pancreatic, I believe. Not long before I arrived in Las Vegas, her health had recently taken a turn for the worse and my uncle debated whether or not it would be helpful for me to visit with them at all. There were no nurses, no hospice staff to help...just my Uncle, and that's the way they both preferred it. Not wanting to impose, but also knowing that this would mostly likely be the last time I would see Louise, I agreed without question to stay in a hotel up the street.

My last time with my Aunt Louise was quiet and full of smiles. She was tired, but still as sharp as ever. My fondest memory of her occured during my first visit to Arizona, in which she introduced me to the magic of cinnamon-sugar toast, a breakfast delight that brings back that moment every time I bite into it. I had meant to tell her this, but never got the chance admist our last conversation. She passed away just a few weeks later.

I spent a lot of time with my Uncle over the few meals we shared together while I was there. He's a very soft-spoken, but direct man, reminding me of my late-grandfather more and more each time I see him. His stories are always shared with experience and a deep, moral purpose. I learn more about myself each time I see him. We talked a lot about my aunt and how he, the boys and their grandchildren are coping with her illness, and we talked at length about our family and the plethora of stories that we both regarding each one of us. He sped me up to date with how his three boys are doing and how my cousin Tim (his middle son) is still in pain, but recovering well from a freak motorcycle accident a few weeks back. Fortunately before I left to head back to Phoenix, I was able to see all three of them, even if for just a few short minutes, and that's all that mattered.

Following a nice breakfast that my uncle and I whipped up together, I said my goodbye's to everyone and jumped back on the road towards Phoenix. Just before I arrived into town, I got a call from my Uncle Dave telling me that they were on their way to Lake Pleasant, a local retreat about 25 miles north of the city. The timing was perfect. With my Uncle's boat in tow, we redeveuxed off the interstate and I drove the rest of the way to the lake in Dave's truck along with my cousins Jon, Danny and Jon's friend...crap, I can't remember his name. Cool kid, though. I wanna say Mike. ...Let's just say his name is Mike.

What does one do on Lake Pleasant? Speed boating. Cliff jumping. Water skiing. Wake boarding. Camping. Partying. Kite surfing. Hiking. Scuba Diving. Drinking. Sailing. Blatently oogling bikini-clad women (Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, Danny ...Be. More. Subtle.) Kayaking. Tubing. Wind Surfing. ...the list goes on. In the few hours we were there to enjoy it, we got to do three of those things.

It's become a tradition of sorts. Each time my cousins and I go to Lake Pleasant on the boat with my Uncle, we go cliff jumping. The drop is close to 30 feet, sometimes higher depending on the level of the lake, and it's a great little rush to break up the day. I pride myself on my lack of fear of heights and cold water...two things which continually cause hesitation in my cousins for which I'm continually able to call them out on it, being about fifteen years their elder. Truth is, I just enjoy the banter.

After a few jumps, Danny broke out the wake board and we spent a bit of time speeding around the bay so he could practice his verticals. For a kid that I continually harass (in my defense, he does ask for it), I will say that he's pretty damn good on his board. My two younger cousins have really come into their own and it's come to the point where I can hang out and converse with them as adults, not as their babysitter. That's a really cool moment of realization when it happens. Following Danny's bout of showing off, we inflated the Inner-tube, which preceded each of us taking our turn being rag-dolled across my Uncle's wake while he laughs maniacally at the constant bouts of aquatic abuse that we all volunteered for. It took me an hour to dig out that wedgie.

With the sun dropping and the air becoming cool over the lake, we headed in, loaded up the boat and enjoyed a quiet ride back into the city. Exhausted, we spent the rest of the evening eating dinner outside by the pool, delighting in whatever new wild game that my uncle picked off as the main course of our menu. Discussions of what my last day with them in Arizona would entail dominated the end of the conversation. But that's meant to be discussed in another post soon enough.

My best moments in Arizona are because of my family. The time I spend with them is priceless to me, no matter how often I continue to visit. I will always go back. Every two years has been my goal since I've been in college. I don't see that changing. Not in any future I can foresee, anyway.