by J. Bueker
     Early cultures such as the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans are known to have kept fish for purposes other than the maintenance of a food supply. The most important development in the history of keeping fish for ornamental purposes was the cultivation of the goldfish, which was first documented in 960 during the Sung Dynasty in China.The development of flake food and undergravel filtration in the 1950s absolutely revolutionized the activity of keeping live fish in one's home, and the pastime flourished and became an extraordinarily popular hobby in the 1960s.
    The tropical fish phenomenon was certainly a part of the Joan De Arc Avenue culture during this era, and in fact still endures to some extent.  The Bueker kids' enthusiasm for keeping an aquarium was inspired and encouraged by their Uncle John Swaggerty, who had developed an extensive interest in the hobby not long after arriving in Phoenix in 1962.  However, the twin burdens of providing transportation to the aquarium shop and financial assistance in the purchasing of supplies fell squarely on the shoulders of Carl "Daddy" Bueker, who inexplicably did not quite share his brother-in-law's and offspring's high level of interest in the overall pet fish experience. Furthermore, Carl's reputation as a man reluctant to part with even small amounts of his hard earned cash had already become proverbial by this time. These circumstances culminated in the legendary Bueker "Neptune's Garden conflict" of 1966.
    Neptune's Garden was for a time a very successful aquarium and tropical fish emporium in Phoenix in the 60s, changing locations twice before settling in on East McDowell road. Neptune's reigned in the mid-60s as the premier Phoenix vendor of all things aquarial, and no serious fish hobbyist in the area would have dreamed of neglecting to make at least an occasional pilgrimage into its midst. Therein lay what was easily the best selection of quality fish and aquarium supplies in the city. The Bueker kids knew this, and they were grimly determined to darken its door.
    The campaign to secure a family trip to Neptune's was spearheaded by the eldest Bueker child Susan, who devised a series of ingenious schemes to persuade her father to accede to his children's demands in the matter. The most notable of these tactics has long since become a part of Joan De Arc lore, the creation of a family newspaper for the expressed purpose of lamenting the children's lack of access to that golden aquarium mecca in east Phoenix. Touched and amused by this gesture, Carl Bueker nevertheless remained unmoved in his opposition to making the journey to the fish shop. He even added insult to injury by typing up a witty reply to his children's impassioned pleas. A lengthy impasse then ensued at 3219.
    At long last, some months later, Daddy Bueker relented and the family finally took that magical ride out to Neptune's Garden. Yet the peak of interest in tropical fish in the Bueker household had already begun to pass, and the trip was universally seen as something of an anticlimax. Eventually only the youngest Bueker, John, maintained an aquarium in the Bueker home. Neptune's Garden went bankrupt and disappeared in 1968.
    The summer of 1966 can therefore be seen as something of a turning point on Joan De Arc Avenue. For it was the summer when tropical fish hobbying on the street slowly began to tank.

by J. Bueker
     The experience of being a kid on Joan De Arc Avenue in the '60s was simply not complete without at least one night sleeping out in the backyard with friends and/or family. This custom held a particular attraction for the younger children, who could experience the fun and adventure of outdoor living with the security of home a mere ten or twelve feet away in the distance.Yet the limited alternatives for summer recreation in Phoenix at this time made the idea of having a backyard campout a strangely attractive option for both kids and parents alike. It created the illusion of "roughing it" in lieu of actually going somewhere and actually doing something. And it didn't cost a dime. 
    My most vivid recollection of backyard camping dates to a summer evening in the mid-'60s, and was in fact the result of the efforts of my sisters Sue and Barbie. The girls for some reason became inspired to construct what turned out to be a remarkably sophisticated tent on the backyard clothesline using blankets and bed sheets. The tent featured separate rooms, a roof, floor and entrance. Perhaps it is purely attributable to the fact that I was only seven or eight years old at the time, but I was pretty damn impressed by it all.
    That afternoon we accompanied our mother for a spot of shopping at Brunk's Furniture out on Cave Creek Road, a family favorite that was in fact much more than a mere new and used furniture store. Brunk's offered an eclectic selection of merchandise that varied with whatever items the Brunk family was able to obtain at any given time, everything from playing cards to heavy appliances. Brunk's was a very cool store.
    On this particular occasion, Brunk's was selling some cheap, metal windup toys that were made in Japan and apparently meant to resemble human skeletons. We kids all took an instant liking to this novelty, and Mother generously purchased one for each of us. We happily brought them with us to the tent that night for the big camp out.
    Meanwhile, sister Sue was understandably quite proud of the key role she had played in the building of the clothesline tent, and this led to a regrettable (and in retrospect ambiguous) bit of bravado on her part. She made a distinct point of insisting that brother Charles and myself would inevitably wimp out and fail to last the night in the tent, while she and Barbie would bravely endure 'til dawn the following day. She seemed completely confident of this scenario and went out of her way to emphasize it a number of times.
    Imagine my surprise then when I awoke around 11:00 that night completely alone inside the clothesline tent, with my windup skeleton toy by my side. To regain entrance to the house, I was compelled to knock loudly upon the arcadia door and awaken my father, who was snoring blissfully in front of the TV in the family room. I was disoriented and at a complete loss as to why my sisters and brother had abandoned the tent for the comfort of their own beds. The suspicion lingers to this very day that Sue had not been entirely truthful about her intention to spend the night camped out inside the clothesline tent. Her amused and self-satisfied demeanor the next morning tended to confirm this hypothesis. For shame.
    I went on to experience a series of later summer backyard camp outs under the stars with pals like Mark Wells, Thom Neff and Ricky Rose, good times all. None of those nights could quite compare, however, with the night in the clothesline tent with my siblings and the cheap, metal windup skeleton toys from Brunk's Furniture store.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ JDA