Mount Graham Memories

David has just posted about me giving him Great Aunt Virgie’s painting of Mount Graham. It’s interesting that as I approach retirement, I’m beginning to loosen my grip on lots of possessions. It feels good and uncomfortable at the same time. For the longest time, it seemed to me that David wasn’t interested in the “stuff” that had surrounded us as kids. And add to that my sister-in-law Sally’s insistence that they cannot possibly add any more “stuff” to their own household. These have made me feel okay with keeping all the old family furniture and chatchkes myself.

But in discussing our upcoming trip to California, and also discussing my anticipated move to Cedar Rapids, I was telling David and Sally that they could take almost any of my possessions that they wanted. They ended up with a lamp, and I think a few other items. Then David asked, “What about the Mt. Graham painting?” I believe it wasn’t even hanging, but was stored in the moving box in which it came to Waterloo. Taking a deep breath I said, “Sure.” Now, when I go to their house, it greets me on a wonderful purple wall that perfectly echoes the purple in the sunset behind the mountain.

David wrote about the last time he and I were in Safford with Dad, how we went up Mt. Graham. While his memories revolve (as always!) around mushrooms, I have a couple of clear images of that trip up the mountain. One is the winding road that goes up the mountain. Now it’s paved. But the first time that I took that road, it was in the back of Uncle Charlie’s pickup, with several of my cousins. We were all hanging on for dear life, but the flatlander (me) was certain that Uncle Charlie would push a little too close to the ragged edge of that dirt road and we would all go tumbling down into the valley to our deaths. In fact, Uncle Charlie was having a lot of fun scaring us kids with his driving!

Another image was stopping at the place where the road crosses the clear, cold stream that is the focus of David’s memories of rock climbing and coke-bottle throwing. It’s a wonderful little rest area where you can both do a little rock climbing to see what’s up the creek, and take your shoes off and wade a little in the shockingly cold snow-melt water. The trees give so much shade that even on the hottest day, a stop at the stream is refreshing.

The third image I have of our day with Dad was standing at an overlook with the valley spread below us. The three of us stood there together, taking in the beauty of the Gila River valley. Though I have never lived in Safford, whenever I have travelled there, the minute I see that beautiful mountain looming up, a wave washes over me that I’m home. This is the land of my people. And a big part of the source of that feeling is that for my whole life, I have lived under Mount Graham, through Virgie Lee’s painting.