I’ve been looking around trying to spot some of the hundreds of celebrities that are in Phoenix for the Super Bowl and the FBR pro golf tournament but haven’t seen a one.
Perhaps that’s because Linda and I rarely leave the peace and tranquility of this lovely town called Fountain Hills.
Located a dozen or so miles East and a couple thousand feet above the hustle and bustle of Phoenix, you can’t help but get a sense of superiority as you gaze down at the greenish- brown smog that hangs suspended over the valley below like one of those heavy crazy-quilts your aunt made that is too hot and confining.
There’s also a city ordinance in Fountain Hills that bans street lights so on most any night you can stand right in the middle of town and be engulfed in a ceiling of stars or watch the lights of one airplane after another approach the big city for a landing.
They’re too far away to hear but fascinating to watch as the air traffic controllers work their magic and get each plane stacked into position for touch down.
There is one spot ..oddly enough in a supermarket parking lot.. which provides a particularly grand view of the Phoenix area at night. Lots of people go there just to park and stare down onto the millions and millions of lights that stretch for miles and miles.
I suppose somebody with a piercing squeaky voice (you know the type) will eventually stand up at a Fountain Hills Town Hall meeting and make a big to-do about the dangers that lurk in a community without street lights. Think of the children..they’ll say. And before you know it, others will chime in and because nobody wants to be against safety..the council..out of guilt, will vote to turn the lights on and Fountain Hills will lose a major part of its charm.Day or night, the town’s namesake..a fountain that can shoot water nearly 600 feet into the air..is beautiful to behold but I can only watch for a short time before having to find a rest room.
Just a few thoughts as we wind down our time here which has gone way too fast.
I somehow don’t mind not having visited some of our familiar haunts in Old Scottsdale like the Rusty Spur..featuring live music every night where the band has been known to let me get up on the small stage and belt out a country song or two..or Patty’s Bar which is sort of half indoors and half outdoors and crazy after 9 O’clock, or singing Karaoke at the Grape Vine with Bob Hefferan..former guitar player with John Denver’s band and the Chad Mitchell Trio.
Bob and I got to know each other a few years ago through our daughter and have had many good times talking music and playing golf.That’s John Denver (with guitar) in 1966 in Chicago before or after a show. Bob Hefferan is seated on the couch. Denver’s wife, Annie, is on Bob’s right.
No, Linda and I have been pretty content this time to just relax and look at the stars…the ones in the sky..not those beneath us throwing Super Bowl parties.
By the way, I’m picking the Giants in an upset over the Patriots.
Remember, I have the power to edit that last sentence out after Sunday.
