March 27, 2008


Today's entry is about the Old West, our friend Bob's favorite thing to talk, write, draw or dream about.

When he is fully mended, he owes me this painting . . .

It is of a weary Pony Express Rider who looks just like me, handing off a mail pouch at Burro Creek to another waiting rider who looks like Dan Harshberger. Marked on the pouch will be the words "Special Delivery: BBB's Blog."

I am more than ready to have this blog returned to its rightful owner, but the healing process seems so slow and so painful—one step forward, another step forward, one step back, two more forward. In an era of zap mail and same-day Federal Express, the healing reminds instead of the Pony Express.

Anyway . . .

Heard his real voice, albeit gravelly, last night for the first time since Saturday. (On Tuesday, he tried to talk with a device on his trach tube, but it sounded more like something from Star Wars than him.) Our dear Kathy had called with an update, and he was ordering questions from the background:

"How did the music and party turn out, on a scale of one to 10?"

Clearly a 10, I replied. Now music aficionados with a fine ear may dispute that rating, and when Bob sees and hears the video, I am sure he will pick out every flaw. But those of us there on Saturday saw and heard nothing but 10s.

When Meghan, my wonderful editor this week at True West, reads this entry, she may wonder why a fellow University of Arizona-trained journalist would bury today's lead (or most important information). After 40 years, I know better, but we had a little setback yesterday and Kathy does not want me to alarm anyone.

Bob had some chest pains in the afternoon so the doc went back in and added a couple more stents. She says the doc promises that all is well and she even called back later with a bit better description that I won't even attempt in fear of getting it wrong. We are now hoping for a Friday return to Cave Creek for Bob and Kathy, and shortly thereafter a transfer of the blog. (Dan, I'll meet you just north of the old bridge at the bottom of Burro Creek canyon, where the water doesn't run quite so fast. It'll be easier to cross there.)

I also started today's blog this way because the needle on my tank marked "funny" has dropped below empty.

Maybe tomorrow I can get a refill. Better yet, maybe tomorrow Bob will be home.

(Note to Bob: Sorry, but I don't know what it costs to deliver a package by Pony Express from Las Vegas to Phoenix or I would have included it today. You will have to research that when you get home. Or you can just wait until you get the bill. I will send it collect, and you can decide which account you want to charge it to.)

Update: When I read today's blog entry to Kathy for her approval, Bob listened on the speaker phone. His voice was strong. And he really is feeling much better. And, finally, so are we.