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Page A2 The Joan De Arc Crusader / Wednesday, December 25, 2013 Front Page A1 / Buekers A3 / Nostalgia A4 / Crossword A5
“Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.” – Voltaire
And all is dross that is not Helena The Crusader must sadly pause to note the recent passing of an Avenue institution, long-time resident Helen Mitchell. Here we have the perfect example of a somber occasion that nevertheless inspires so many happy memories as to be unmanageable in the small space afforded a humble street-newspaper editorial page. First and foremost, Helen was a neighbor par excellence. Always deeply involved in school and community activities, Mrs. Mitchell was quick to assist a neighbor in need or child in distress. Her years as an “Emergency Mother” on Joan De Arc, aiding Sahuaro schoolchildren experiencing a difficult situation on their way to or from school, exemplify her cheerfully devoted service to her community. Helen was a true friend and supportive neighbor, always there to comfort and strengthen Joan De Arc families experiencing an illness or other crisis in their lives. Her focused compassion helped more than a few Joan De Arc residents through some very tough times indeed. For this reason alone, she will be very fondly remembered. A devoted wife and mother, Helen skillfully raised two fine girls, Julie and Kathleen, amidst all the cultural hubbub and change in the 1960s and 1970s. She also kept husband Bill in line, somehow managing to tame his wild ways. Mrs. Mitchell famously contributed a lasting legacy to Avenue culture with her timeless (and potent) strawberry daiquiri recipe that is still enjoyed on New Year’s Eve by certain street alumni. Lastly, this woman was a skilled and tenacious bridge player, routinely giving the smug Carl Bueker vigorous competition in the legendary annual “Bueker Cup” competition, in which she and Bill actually triumphed on occasion. All this is but a tiny sampling of what Helen Mitchell meant to us here on Joan De Arc Avenue over her more than half a century of residence gracing our street. Good night, dear lady. We know your generous spirit inhabits our Avenue still.
Our traditional pointless Christmas editorial
Once upon a time, the only seasonal outdoor decorations found on our Avenue were tastefully selected C-9 colored lights deployed in an endless variety of festive configurations. That was it. And you know what? It worked. Inevitably of course, the technology available for holiday decor has evolved and become steadily more elaborate and sophisticated. The word tacky also comes to mind. And the most egregious of these contemporary adornments are without a doubt the dreadful “inflatables.” Inflatable Christmas decorations have been with us for a while now, but the situation has grown progressively worse. These things just keep getting bigger and more loathsome with each passing year. We at the Crusader feel the line should certainly be drawn at the “Santa’s Outhouse” yard decoration that has now come into vogue. Yeesh. What’s next? Mrs. Claus’s House of Ill Repute? Can we at least get back to the Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman inflatables, please? Now then, what should be done about these lamentable lawn monstrosities? How can we return to the simpler, more wholesome and traditional holiday ornamentation of yesteryear? Well, we haven’t the foggiest idea, really. We’re just venting. Hey, we told you this editorial was going to be pointless. Merry Christmas everyone.
Wither the Sahuaro book sale? The Crusader editorial board wishes to make a brief appeal to the powers-that-be at Sahuaro Elementary School regarding their popular annual used-book sale. Held every spring for the last decade or so, the Sahuaro book sale has been a defining institutional enterprise, raising funds for a variety of worthwhile classroom activities while providing the community with bargain-priced literature of all imaginable kinds. The book sale has also supplied the Crusader Foundation, incidentally, with a priceless collection of vintage Sahuaro School library books. Sadly, the Sahuaro book sale was inexplicably skipped last year without any public explanation whatsoever. We cannot even begin to imagine why this extraordinarily beneficial community event has been shelved. The Crusader urges the Sahuaro administration, faculty, and PATS parent-teacher organization in the strongest possible terms to reverse this trend without delay and restore the beloved book sale to its rightful place on the spring 2014 calendar of events. Besides the incomparable nostalgia of hanging out in the Sahuaro School cafeteria, we miss our three-books-for-a-buck bargains!
An object lesson at the smorgasbord It has now been a little over fifty years that our family has been in Arizona, and nearly thirty-eight since my father passed away. These numbers seem ridiculously large, but I’ve checked my math several times and have come to believe that they’re correct. The number of years since my dad’s passing seems particularly absurd; so much of what he taught his family still seems fresh in my memory. One story about my dad that frequently comes to mind revolves around a rare family vacation trip to Southern California. Carl’s boss had an annual pool party at his place in Los Angeles, and if we ever travelled anywhere in the summer, that was usually it. As kids we were happy enough about it, as it meant a stay in a motel with a swimming pool and the party itself generally involved another dip into chlorinated water along with a seemingly endless supply of food and soda pop. The house also had a player piano with a couple of dozen rolls of old tunes that could be played endlessly and I’m quite certain the Sunderlands were very relieved to see the Buekers finally leave at the end of each summer shindig. There was always the problem of feeding the travelling horde before and after the party, however, and a common budget-stretching strategy of my dad’s was to find an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord whenever possible. We stopped at one such place in Burbank and waited as an obviously harried waitress, whose job was to serve drinks and count heads, had nearly worked her way to our table. “I want you guys to watch something,” my father remarked. “People in the big city aren’t always very nice to each other, but they really do respond to politeness and positive attention.” When the waitress arrived at our table, my father treated her really no differently than I had ever seen him treat anyone. He said “please” and “thank you” at the appropriate times, asked her if she could do things for us rather than expecting or demanding her to do them, and basically just showed that he appreciated her efforts. True to his prediction, you could literally watch her defense shields melt away with a dramatic change in her facial expression. “Look,” she said. “You’ve got a lot of kids. I can put them all down as 10-years-old and younger so that your tab won’t be so high.” I think my jaw had dropped to the table at this point. “Thank you anyway,” my dad responded. “That won’t be necessary, and we wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.” She smiled sweetly and went off to gather our drinks. Carl had more than adequately made his point. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to reflect on this valuable lesson in recent years. The world is increasingly filled with underappreciated and neglected souls, and not just in the big cities, either. Among our friends and neighbors are people who work full time and can’t make ends meet, who perhaps need and deserve a higher education but cannot afford one, or who are made to feel unwelcome in their communities because of their race, religion or place of birth. Solutions to their difficulties are not easy to come by, but perhaps the place to start is to be appreciative of their contributions, and sympathetic to their needs. A rising tide lifts all boats, as they say, and making things better for others doesn’t take away from my experience on this planet, it adds to it. Forty-two years ago John Lennon asked us to imagine a better world, where people live as one. A few years before that, Carl Bueker taught his family the simple but powerful magic of mutual respect that can begin to move us in that direction. Maybe we should go ahead and give that a try. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ JDA
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This
newspaper enjoys a time-honored tradition of publishing tedious and
pointless Christmas editorials on this day of days each year, and we are not
about to let this Yuletide slip by as an exception. This year, we’ve decided to
pick on the outdoor decorations that we have been seeing on the street in recent
years. 