Welcome to Arizona To those newcomers from areas devastated by Hurricane Katrina, I say welcome. There is much to learn, so you may as well hit the ground running. First off, you look great. As it turns out, the Salvation Army instructed the many would-be donors that only brand-new, packaged items would be accepted and distributed to the refugees, due to the fact that - oops. Little red light just started blinking. Hold up. Please accept my apologies; I am reminded that many people consider the term "refugee" to be a disparaging one (even though it is accurate as defined in the dictionary). Many in the media and in government go way around that particular word when speaking of our displaced fellow citizens. A "refugee" apparently best describes someone like an ethnic Albanian from Kosovo, or a paddy-shorn rice farmer from Bande Aceh. By the way, don't get too comfortable with this sort of political correctness in Arizona. Such is generally a no-no, as you will soon discover. In fact, you may even find this place to be eerily reminiscent of that old film-school staple, Blazing Saddles. P.C., you must realize, is an exclusively liberal trait, and Arizona prides itself on being the Reddest State this side of Kansas. To those just arriving from the fairly Democratic bastion of Louisiana, the overall conservative streak running through Arizona may seem a bit frightening at first. Our newcomers will quickly ascertain that we're not all so friendly as we may seem. In fact, a lot of people here throw the term "my friend" around quite loosely. They're not necessarily being amicable - they're just trying to sound like Sean Hannity. It's embarrassing. Not to worry, though - the general jive of conservatives renders them mostly harmless. They just want to bluster about those damn liberals, who have historically made little or no impact in this state, one way or the other. And they want to impress you with their rugged individualism, which is a nearly useless trait to bring to the task of governing, since the need for the common good is the fulcrum upon which balances our collective freedoms. Putting that aside, the early reports say that some of our newcomers have already begun to assimiliate. They are out finding jobs and seeking out dwellings as they bravely begin forging new lives for themselves, like modern-day pioneers. To some, this place must seem like an oasis... Or a mirage. They'll figure out the local nuances later, they must figure. That's exactly how it was when my sweetheart and I arrived here nine years ago. We showed up dirt poor, with only those few possessions that could be stuffed into an '83 Mercury Zephyr. There's no point in being afraid, and not much time for wondering what to do. In the spirit of giving, I donate the following advice, much of which was passed on to me. I sincerely hope this may ease the transition in some small way. The Food. This might be a bit of a shock. This isn't the Big Easy; there's a whole different flavor going on in Phoenix. Our cantinas have some of the tastiest and spiciest food in America, and there's some great barbecue around here besides. For nostalgia's sake, try a place called McCormick and Schmick's (in the Esplanade). It's a little pricey, but they serve a mean bowl of seafood gumbo, which is frequently on the Happy Hour menu in the bar. The Water. You should already know this one: Don't drink that! Sure, it appears to be somewhat clear coming out of the tap, but it's laced with perchlorate, among other things. I seem to recall an ad campaign a couple of years ago, trying to get people to drink the city water (they said it wasn't so bad if you chilled it and threw in some lemon slices), but they laid off after a couple of kids died over in Peoria. Stick to the bottled stuff. The Air. One city's water is another city's air. Our atmosphere is filthy, and can cause or exacerbate health problems. But the smog produces some really beautiful sunsets, so enjoy. The Culture. This place may seem somewhat primitive compared to what was left behind. There are a few stuffy museums and recital halls, but mostly it's as barren as the desert when you look to spend your entertainment dollar. If you really want to smile and holler and stomp your feet, go check out my friend Carvin Jones. He plays the blues like he means it, and he does it seven nights a week. The Climate. Try not to sweat the dry heat; it will clear out in about six more weeks. Then, until next May or so, it's Heaven Season (also known as Golf Season). To save time each morning, you can skip the weather report, because it always goes something like this: "It's another beautiful day in The Valley... And in sports..." The Sports. The Suns are a far superior basketball team to your lowly Hornets, but you only had those clowns for awhile anyway, so maybe your loyalties hadn't fully developed yet. The two cities' football teams are mirror images of futility, so hopefully you brought along your paper bags. New Orleans hosts neither pro baseball nor pro hockey, so you can't compare how bad your teams are to ours in those categories. Scorpions, rattlesnakes, fire-ants and killer bees. I don't believe they exist. The Law. It's just like anybody else's law. Don't screw up, or you'll have to deal with "The Man". In this case, "The Man" is Sheriff Joe Arpaio, and he is one tough hombre. If you land in his jail (and even if you don't), he'll feed you nothing but baloney. And the rumors are true. He will dress you up in pink underwear. Then you'll be basically exposed to the elements, living in a tent. In Arizona, we don't want the refugees to feel like they're prisoners. We want the prisoners to feel like they're refugees. Paul Heller 9/06/05 << back to the archives
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