Galavanting through the old west

On Sunday night, after the radio show, Paul, Leralee, Adam and I headed to the wide old west streets of downtown Prescott for a late night venue of some kind. We parked in front of the Prescott Brewery, but not realizing how close we were, walked 2 blocks before asking someone and turning right back round again. We had a night of good beer (what, you had beer?!, I know some of you are saying). I did and I liked it! It was blackberry flavored, brewed on the premises. The best thing was the great conversation we had for several hours. We talked the gamut from politics to war to the meaning of words, and amused ourselves with the cardboard coasters.

Paul gave me a very detailed opinion about my working blog name: memo random. He feels the word random is overused, but more importantly misused. Blog posts, even if not conceived from a conscious theme as mine will not likely be, are nevertheless purposeful acts of self-expression, borne from the context of one's life, which may seem random at times, but is actually not. There are often patterns we don't see that thread through our thought and expression. Obviously, Paul felt strongly about the use of the word random. I decided that I agree with him, although I view seeming randomness is a legitimate enough criterion on which to name a set of writings about one's daily experience. My other working blog name is: catty meets wompus. See my musings behind this blog name on my first post.

We also talked about young men we know who have decided to join the US armed forces, and what their decisions might be about, how one could possibly talk them out of it, how much influence a parent can have on such a child's decision, and the like. It was an intense discussion, but a good one. Paul holds that a parent can and should do whatever it takes to show a child the fruitlessness of at least this war, let alone others. I believe a child's individuation and autonomy have more to do with his decision than his parent's lack of convincing. Plus, there are many opinions flowing forth into the world of a 15 to 17-year old American boy. As if that weren't enough for confounding factors, it's certainly not as comfortable to believe that one's country is doing something completely wrong - a young adult, looking for something he can do to make a difference in the world, seems much more likely to grab hold of an institution that claims to do just that, and markets well, and is touted by lots of people around him, including nearly every blaring media outlet in the country. He might think, contrary to what his parents believe: what if the war is changing things for the better? Wouldn't that be great? What if my dad or mom's just bitter and I can do something useful and big with my life? Alluring thoughts indeed. That just scratches the surface of the nuances in our conversation. It was definitely a night I will remember.

Sunday through Tuesday night, we had the privilege of staying with Paul's friends, George and Susan. We had lots of stimulating and laugh-filled conversations with both of them and very much enjoyed spending time in their home and around Prescott. They have a spunky and lovable golden retriever, Sadie, who was especially lively while we visited since she'd been cooped up for a week with an injured paw.

On Tuesday, I went for a run around the square downtown. Wow, was that hard. Running at 5,200 feet, after not getting much cardio exercise for a month or so, will take the wind right out of your lungs. I had several aches from the start. But, I was glad I did it. It had never occurred to me that I could people watch (or rather, listen) while running. It's all I can do to keep running let alone look at, listen or talk to anyone or anything. But, I somehow heard a few things on my rounds and realized it makes running more fun. It gets me out of the isolation I usually feel when running, but not enough that I can't focus on moving my feet.

We're leaving lovely Prescott today, after a dazzle-eyed food shopping spree at the beautiful natural foods store on Iron Springs Road. We're headed for the Grand Canyon via tiny Jerome and the red rocks of Sedona. We might camp outside of Flagstaff and get to the canyon on Thursday.