Chuck’s Corner
News From Around the Block and Around the World
by C.H.Bueker
    Moses, they say, wandered the desert for forty years.  Some think this is because he refused to ask for directions.  Whatever the reason, his record is about to be shattered by the Bueker family, who have made the Sonoran Desert their home for just as long and don’t seem to be even remotely close to finding a way out.
    I remember well the departure from Michigan, it being mere days following my seventh birthday.  We enjoyed a going away dinner at the Mayflower Hotel, where I recall receiving the spectacular gift of a cardboard hat, die-cut from a single rectangle of thick paper in a spiral manner so as to give the appearance of an actual, useful hat when placed on the head.  No expense was spared in the manufacture of this item, since the underside was printed so as to reveal the children's menu available at the Mayflower at the time.
    Sadly, this remarkable souvenir was lost when it suddenly burst into flames upon stepping out of the camper and into the July Phoenix air.  I look forward to discovering more of the spiral shaped scars as my hairline continues to recede.
    Many other memories of that trip westward spring to mind, although most of them revolve around begging my father to stop somewhere, usually for something to eat or drink.  It's just as well that he never complied, since he refused to stop for bathroom breaks as well.  “Nothing in, nothing out” was pretty much his standard rule for traveling with children back in the early sixties, and all the way through to the mid seventies, for that matter.
    I remember stopping in at Yellowstone Park on the drive over.  “Old Faithful” was running two minutes late and, ironically, endangering our schedule, so we blew it off.  I was nearly busted by a Las Vegas casino guard for pulling on a slot machine handle.  It wasn't so much because I was only a third of the legal gambling age as it was that I hadn't put any money into the thing.  Hey, you gotta draw the line somewhere…
    The ensuing forty years have been pretty much a virtual blur, save the late seventies, where everything is an ACTUAL blur.  What few fragmented memories remain from those years between High School and College graduations are a bit scary, actually.  Having children at and near that age, I refuse to recount any of it.  Besides, my mom might be reading this.  Hi mom!
    Anyhoo, it's been a pretty amazing forty year run here in Phoenix.  We've witnessed its growth from a simple cow town to what it is today: too damn many people in one place.  We've been privy to the rise and fall of many great Phoenix institutions, from Wagon Wheel Kiddy Land in the north, to Park Central downtown, to the great flower gardens along Baseline Road in South Phoenix. We've seen ON TV go off the air.  We watched as Open House with Marge Condon closed shop.   We've outstayed them all, and why?
    Because it beats the hell out of Michigan, that's why.

    When the decision was made and the time grew near to leave Michigan, Daddy Bueker determined to go west in style. He campaigned for and finally acquired the Chevy truck with over-the-cab camper.
    Oh my! It was truly elegant. There was a complete kitchen with built-in table and benches that converted to sleeping space, and a double bed in the over-the-cab part of the camper. There were cupboards and closets, a shower and a toilet. We added air mattresses and heard lots of complaints about them allll the wayyyy to Phoenix. Afternoons, we five sprawled on the double mattress to read the "Bobbsey Twins" while Daddy drove.
    His original plan was to stop at every natural and/or historical place of interest all the way to Arizona. This worked well for a while. By the time we got to Yellowstone, we were all a little ragged around the edges, and it was snowing as we entered the park. This necessitated a quick purchase of very expensive sweat shirts for all the kids. Who knew it snowed there so late in June?
    As we headed south through Utah, Daddy Bueker sensed the end of the journey at hand, and our leisurely tour went into overdrive. He had anticipated a dip in the Great Salt Lake and informed us that we would all be amazed to discover that the concentration of salt in the water would keep us afloat. We were never to test out the lake or even get a good look at it, however. He yelled for us to look out the right side window "quick" to catch a glimpse as we sped by!
    We whizzed through Las Vegas, saw Lake Mead briefly (I could not believe how hot it was at Lake Mead) and drove halfway to Phoenix from Vegas our last night out.
    Very early the next morning we drove east on Northern Avenue from Grand Avenue, and saw the most beautiful, clean city sparkling in the sun and fell in love with Phoenix and the Valley.
    And that's the story of how we came to Arizona forty years ago-- and we are still here.

by J. Bueker
    Being the youngest of the Buekers, my recollective grasp of our migration to Phoenix is understandably insubstantial, and yet I retain a handful of surprisingly vivid memories relating to that epochal journey of long ago.
    I well remember the day of our departure from Livonia, which took place about a week after my 5th birthday. The moving van had been sent on its way, and the camper had been stocked with all the essentials for a cross country family excursion, everything from food and toiletries to the trusty glamour stretcher (should any disciplinary problems arise). Debbie Sawicki had thrown Susan and Barbie a going away party, and Grandma Bueker had treated us all to a bon voyage luncheon at a local hotel. I distinctly recall the colorful paper umbrellas that came with our beverages on that occasion. I had almost certainly never beheld such a thing before, and I was plainly amazed at the sight.
    Before hitting the road to meet our destiny in the Arizona desert, we posed in front of our interim residence on Loveland Avenue for some quick snapshots to document for posterity our fond farewell to Michigan.
    I find these photos very telling. Everyone looks a bit subdued in them, myself included, but Father in particular carries an unmistakable look of grim determination upon his visage. It must have been a very emotional moment for him.
    Minutes later, we were gone.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ JDA