Fawkes

Let me tell you a story about a Phoenix.  My friends friend had this Phoenix once who was really cool, and sometimes he'd save people from giant snake monsters and would cry magical healing tears and yada yada yada.  Now let me tell you another story about a Phoenix.  I live there.  The end.

There was a time (basically the entire span of my life up until two days before I moved when I had to sit myself down and have a major intervention with myself) when I used to think Phoenix was the city dreams went to die.  Sure, I grew up in a desert surrounded city.  And yes, I fully love the western-state lifestyle.  But Phoenix...despite it's epic name, always held such a grimy emotion in my mind.  

Most of my disdain for the area can be linked back to a childhood memory I have of traveling here for a weekend Mormon "temple trip".  Although I was too young to actually attend the temple at that time, my family, along with many members of my childhood church congregation, would do a large road trip every couple of years to Phoenix to attend the temple, which was the closest one to where I grew up.  

On this fateful trip, I remember being so excited to be traveling to this majestic land which apparently had palm trees all year, even though it wasn't near the ocean (I learned this fact, along with all other facts in our encyclopedia series.  Remember those?  No internet was kinda great sometimes).  I remember devouring all the information I could get on the city, and being mesmerized.  Travel, even at a young engage, completely enthralled me, and Phoenix sounded as foreign and adventurous as Egypt to my naive...so so naive.

As my family loaded into the mini van, my two older brothers and I immediately began posturing for the best seats in the back.  Out of nowhere my Dad turned around in the front seat and instructed my brothers that I got the middle row to myself.  Guys, I would pay good money to go back and see my face, because I still remember feeling like the Heavens had opened and said, "Dan, we're your number one fan.  You're alright kid".  And my Dad, bless his heart, couldn't have been more excited to deliver the news to his oh so naive and foolish youngest child.  Just as I had finished arranging all of my books and pillows for the best seven hours of my life, the van pulled to a stop in front of a house that I vaguely recognized.  Then I saw him, Chris, one of my brother's friends from church, the first person to expose me to true, raw, unfiltered body odor.  The kid I avoided standing near anytime I saw him due to the most pungent odors one can imagine.   And in that moment, like a plush rug being ripped out from under your bare feet that were so enjoying the soft textures and warmth, I realized that this trip was going to be a real bastard.  And so, for the next 72 hours, Chris and I sat next to each other, shared a motel sleeper sofa together, and discovered the sweat inducing heat of Phoenix together.  

Though most of my Phoenix memories are still tainted to this day by memories of unearthly human odors, I am enjoying the process of creating new and exciting memories of this city for myself.  Although it's hard to imagine and know where in life we'll end up, it's liberating to realize that the past doesn't have to control and pollute the future forever.  At one point, we can just move on, and not look back, and leave the gross memories for something bright and new.