Topic: Dailies

So Let It Be

by

Leo Crocker Rogers

Tears come to my eyes. So let it be.

History is indeed bunk. It holds us back. One cannot go forward while looking back. In Glendale, Arizona it is illegal to drive in reverse. You know what that means? It means, beyond a doubt, one learns to think forward. Think motorcycle. When you park, you better be able to walk that baby backward. If there is a slight down hill when parking you have two problems. One, the bike could roll off the kick stand. Two, you just might not have the strength to walk the bike backward out of the space. Little things teach us to think ahead. That is good because ahead is the only place we can go. Best go smart.

Why do I tear. It is not because history is bunk. It is because while I know that, I feel deeply about old things being destroyed. Why is that? Don’t we need new, and where can the new reside if the old takes up all the space?

The reason is not because a "thing" is destroyed, it is because the "thing" represented work, artistic endeavor, engineering acumen, meeting a need, care for mankind in some way, and sometimes just beauty, grace, and finesse of accomplishment. Too, I can tell in some instances it took blood, sweat, and tears to build the "thing".

As a example, it tugs at my heart to see someone take an old hand formed musical instrument and trash it because they can have a new one. That hurts. What do I want to do with the old one? Put it in the attic? I have no good answer, but putting the old out to pasture to die, be it a musical instrument, horse, dog, or relative, is just not good for me. I already have three old cell phones. Pity. Each time I renew my contract, they offer a new and better cell phone for free. Nuts.

In my home town of Phoenix, Arizona, I see change faster than Las Vegas makes money disappear.

In the late 1800s, Phoenicians enjoyed the wonders of the Arizona Falls, gathering there to picnic, socialize and dance near the cool water. No, I was not picnicking at the time. I read about it and saw photographs of the natural falls. A water fall right in the Phoenix area -- how neat.

When I moved to Phoenix, it was a return visit for me. I had been here in the 1940s with my dad. It was a long hot and water conscious drive from San Diego. Along the way, we could smell the onions in the El Centro valley fields, and my dad pointed out the stage coach depots in Yuma. And of course, we could see the remains of the wooden road that traversed the Yuma sand desert. When we arrive in Phoenix, dad took us to the Stock Yards restaurant where a huge (perhaps 2 pound) steak cost about a buck as I recall.

Phoenix existed because of water. It is a state law that if anyone asks someone with water to give them a drink, they must so give. I live because that kindness was extended to me one time.

So the tears, as sort of water.

Water flowed through Phoenix because entrepreneurs built canals. In the heart of Phoenix, the canals would sometimes have water falls as a part of their route. The Arizona Falls was the site of the first hydroelectric plant in Phoenix. Originally built in 1902, the plant was destroyed by a flood (Yes, in Phoenix, a flood.). It was rebuilt by Salt River Project in 1911, began delivering power again in 1913, and was eventually shut down in 1950, about the time my dad and I again sojourned to Phoenix.

As the years passed, and more people moved to the Valley, the Arizona Falls was almost forgotten. It was a building and a falls, but an eye sore. It hurts just to think about it. Cast away. Cast away. Cast away. All that effort to originally build the canal, then the hydro plant. Then to rebuild it after the flood. Relegated to nothingness. I can hear the stones of the building crying out, "Have mercy on us."

Well, there are some individuals that have a heart for such things, and although one cannot have the past with its flavor, one can have a memory of the qualities which that past recalls. Today, the water fall is hidden between buildings, highways, and stuff. But SRP has restored it. It now produces 750 KW for 150 homes (I am told.). What a deal. One has to really look to find the falls that was once a picnic area, a cool resource in a scorching desert, a place of trees where only catus would naturally grow. But it is there between 56^th and 58^th streets along the canal that continues to deliver water to our town.

Tough sometimes. Tough. The older one gets, the more one wants to recall the efforts of those that have gone before. Times are never as tough now as they were before.

Honor is due those that make today what it is.

In every country, in every city, in every family, honor is due those that have gone before.

The words, "Sir" and "Mam" are due as are "God bless America." "God bless Iraq." "God bless those that give us to day."

History is bunk, but not the qualities that made it so. History is not the road for today nor what may be needed today, but if nothing else, history is the way marker of blood, sweat, and tears that make us resolute and willing to say, "Upon those that have gone before we do now stand that those that come hereafter will stand taller than we." So let it be.