My Year Among the Sunflowers (Month 5)

November theme: Company’s comin’. And they’re airborne! And it would appear that Don Ho is a Sunflower Snowbird year-round favorite.

The November migration has occurred, evidenced by the steady stream of identical SUVs attached to U-Haul trailers full of the Sunflowers’ mid- and north- western things. The unloading, the unpacking, the foraging for seasonal supplies, the unpacking, all while reconnecting with fellow Sunflowers.

My first Thanksgiving in Tucson was so confusing. It had always been a holiday for travel away or staying home with nearby family gatherings. But here, it’s not only a popular destination holiday, it’s the kickoff of snowbird season. For every snowbird or pair of snowbirds, they bring with them approximately 10 friends and family that visit for stays of varying lengths until February or March. All with nothing to do all day every day but play.

So, the Senior mania of the last 4 months has heightened exponentially and is now palpable from inside the house.

To add icing to the cake, snowbird dudes are fascinated with airplanes. I was hearing a constant humming that was considerably louder outside. I thought we were at war. It is Arizona election season, after all. But come to find out, there’s a regional airport about 5 miles from the ‘hood. We don’t have tall trees as sound barriers, so things can seem a lot closer sometimes. I went for a drive in that direction this month and there was a literal traffic jam at this airport in the literal middle of nowhere. Men were standing around everywhere lovingly gazing at and caressing any plane they could. Christmas Story kids with their first Red Ryder. So, I’m not sure if they’re flying planes or hiring people to fly planes, I have no idea where they’re going to or coming from, and I don’t care. It keeps them away from their garages, their ladders and hammers, and their leaf-blowers for an afternoon.

There are 23 homes in this semi-circle section of the neighborhood. The only reasons anyone would be on this street is if they live or are visiting a resident on the street. And yet, not 10 minutes go by without the swoosh of some sort of vehicle: buzzy electric bicycles, tricycles, motorcycles, golf carts, regular cars, classic cars, pickup trucks, delivery trucks, home repair and maintenance trucks, trash trucks, recycling trucks, street cleaners. I’ve lived in neighborhoods both 100 years old and under construction, and I’ve never seen so many home repair and maintenance trucks. So, I guess I have to assume that after the Sunflowers are done for the day, they are busy inside arranging people? I watch Yellowstone. The Sunflower community is busier.

This house being situated on a corner and just a sidewalk away from the road means the swoosh can feel invasive, as though the vehicles might just come on through the walls sometimes. But this isn’t about the swoosh; it’s about the mania. Where is everyone going? There are no large families or kids to take care of. Yards are measured in double-digit-feet. The houses and most of the residents have been here for years. What’s to do? What’s TO DO!? WHAT’S TO DO!?!?! Obviously, I have already absorbed the energy of it.

It’s all just a constant reminder that time is running out. I’ve never thought of time - I mean, it’s always there for all of us - but I’ve never thought to be manic about it. Pack as much as I can into every single minute of every single hour of every single day, because it might be the last? What’s the point of that? (Maybe this is because I’m on the younger side of living here. I’m still tired from working. Maybe this is something that’s coming for me? I’ll be spinning in circles in my 80s? Somebody shoot me in about 5.)

July through September were still warm, which meant that the days started early so people could be inside in the heat of the day. October and November are cooler and darker in the mornings, of course. Old folks don’t travel in cold and dark. The last swoosh of the day is around 5:30 now. So, there’s even less of a window to get everything done, and they’re busier than ever. Well, the men are. I never, ever, ever see women, except for the morning tiny-dog walkers.

There is a line in a Tennessee Williams’ poem, “Old men go mad at night.” Here, old men go mad by about 9:30 in the morning. It’s cold at night here in the desert now. 40 degrees doesn’t seem so cold, but with no humidity, it tends to feel at least 10 degrees cooler. So, it’s cold with no light. And the sun rises later, so that cold means the days here start later. So, garage doors don’t go up until 9am, rather than the 7am of the last 4 months. The morning clacks coming from the bocce fields two streets over is no more. Instead, the men have moved to their garages. All the garages are open now all day long. The piddling, the hammering, the blowing, the sawing, the toting, the standing, the sitting, the staring.

I believe there are two brothers living across the street to the side of the house. They own or work for a landscaping company, because their lime green truck with all the logos is in front of their house. I couldn’t be more grateful that they work, because they are literally gone from 6am to 6pm every week day. They have four other cars. In a house on land measured in double-digit feet (I know I keep saying this), there are two in the garage and two in the driveway. One is a mustang, one is a Jeep, one is an old classic Oldsmobile-esque car maybe from the 1970s, and the other is a tiny little convertible. When Jose and Ferdinand aren’t leaf-blowing their gravel yard (seeds?) on the weekends, they are revving, adjusting, washing, drying, polishing, hugging their cars. Sometimes, they rev or hug too hard and it sets off all sorts of car alarms. With slower reflexes, it takes some recovery time to settle things down again.

In addition to the weekend festivities, I’m assuming they send their landscaping employees to do their thing every Monday. Their thing is this: two men who show up around 9, and blow and blow and pull chains on carving tools that they hold around bushes (there are two) that I’ve never seen a drop of growth fall) and talk on their phones, and blow some more, and stand by the truck and drink water, and blow some more, and stand around for about 3 hours. So, this one house has leaf blowing and car revving for how many hours a week? I can’t even. Vroom, vroom, you 60-year-old boys. All I know is thank God, they still work.

Oh, Don Ho! I almost forgot about (blocked) him. He’s catty-corner across the street and is more popular than ever! There are 2, sometimes 3, cars parked in front of his yard and driveway (the yard is only wide enough for one car) each day. They talk in the garage, mostly. I’ve seen him often since I’ve been here. He’s always been free with his neighbor waves. I’ve seen him walking with keys and a bourbon neat glass and going in other people’s homes, so I think he’s a caretaker for snowbirds and part-time residents. But now the people are coming to him. I’m convinced he’s a caretaker by summer and a Viagra dealer in the winter. There a was a female there when I first moved in - they watched me move in, waving every few minutes - but I haven’t seen her in ages. Just him. And his adoring fans…er…customers.

The first Saturday night of the month, as a welcome back to the season, A Music Under the Stars cookout and concert. Festivities started at 4pm, because IHOP’s sunset hours. The pounding that one hears from music at a distance got a little louder around 8pm. Upon open-door inspection, I heard I Just Wanna Rock and Roll All Night, closer to Muzak fashion than the normal tempo. Lots of hollers and squeals from the “girls’ on the lawn. , I believe it was the finale.

Last weekend was the Fine Arts and Crafts Fair in the Community Center. Signs were all over. One committee had to remove the 500+ Veterans’ Day flags, so another committee could put up the signs. I don’t know what made it “fine”, but the newsletter reports it was a big success.

Speaking of Veterans’ Day doings, there were some very nice events to honor them. Potlucks and such. They offered holiday gatherings, too. It’s a very nice thing to offer box dinners to those who might be homebound and dinners to those who might not have anyone nearby to be with.

And as always, a dinner dance or four. The newsletter mentioned the new arrival to the neighborhood in the form of a DJ (WTH?), so there’s a few more dances than usual now.

I can’t close the month without an update on Wilbur. He replaced a bulb last week. It took him about a week and another week to put his ladder away. I swear this bulb is brighter, but it could be my imagination. So, Wilbur is still tripled down on the Halogen or LED ( whichever is brighter is Wilbur’s) floodlight situation. I’m able to sleep, though, so how dare I ask for more?