Episode 1. Huzzah!

Huzzah!

Episode 1. Celebrating AZ Podcast.

The premiere episode invites you along to Winslow’s stretch of Route 66 and a summer camp experience in Prescott.

Mug:  Kinyaa’ aanii

Question:

Is there one soul mate for each of us?

Read what you like:

"Tombstone” from"Arizona: 100 Years Grand.

By Lisa Schnebly Heidinger

But the scenery around the headstone is different than it was 50 years ago.

And maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe the stories around Wyatt Earp and Sheriff John Behan, the soiled glitter of Wyatt Earp’s common-law wife and Big Nose Kate, the stirring and wild quest of the Earps to avenge their brother’s death, are what matter. Maybe how many seconds the fight lasted is secondary to how hearing about it makes us feel. Maybe there’s legend, and there’s facts...and in Tombstone, if you don’t get a lot of the latter, you sure have a heaping helping of the former. The town too tough to die lives as a concrete setting for a pilgrimage we can make to indulge the universal request, “Tell me a story.”

All rights reserved by author.

Morning Person

By Julie Morrison

Minnesota January and Arizona June

have the same trouble: no good mornings.

In the cold dark, when 8am is barely twilight,

we prepare for the day in the dark:

showering, brushing, dressing just to bundle

in covers thick as bedclothes

then shuffle a sleeper’s stiff steps

to and through doors, a half-lit, dozy

dreamscape not dispelled

until fluorescents or filling mugs splash fear

of the forgotten, incomplete, or looming.

Likewise, when five is hot as noon,

sunrise already baking, waking is not fresh

but overripe, mealy with obligation to hurry

without overheating, beat the greater heat

still coming, start earlier

because the day’s best is behind us.

Morning greetings feel like holiday wishes

in April—absurdly late or foolishly premature—

coffee like a bandage on a shedding scab,

an afterthought’s minimal use

and awkward comfort.

In these months when day doesn’t break,

but bend cold, and blister heat,

the prayer of the morning person

is to sleepwalk for the next three months,

feel extremes as a fleece

to slouch and pouch inside

until season’s change invites pushing sleep

from corners of eye and mind,

unzip, shrug, knot that redundant layer

around ourselves, and move on.

Copyright 2025 Julie Morrison All rights reserved.