Our Life in Sun City

                                   


It has been six months since my husband and I moved to Las Vegas, NV, home of Sun City Summerlin.  The time has passed quickly, mostly being taken up by unpacking,  sorting, and setting aside loads for the Las Vegas Rescue Mission (whose driver now gives me a hug). And of course, with Ken as my cheerleader ("Come on, you'll enjoy it") we are meeting new people.

We have joined a wine group attended by individuals who think the more spent on a bottle of wine, the better it is.  Obviously, they've never been to a Grocery Outlet or had an expert like R.B. teach them about wine. After an email informed members they couldn't spend less than 18 dollars on each bottle they brought to the next gathering, I asked my cheerleader how fast we could get back home to The Dalles.

Ken wanted to relocate to a place on the planet that rarely, if ever, sees snow and ice.  Since we were familiar with Sun City, this was where he thought we'd be content to live. Friends know how I responded to that notion; suffice it to say, it was a stressful time.  One refreshingly honest pal suggested I stay put and not go anywhere.  "Why would you move to that God-forsaken city?", she asked (took the words right out of my mouth).  The only legitimate response was, "I love him". I should have added, "Besides, he does the grocery shopping".

We were here only 3 months when my attitude about Vegas changed.  While thousands of people were enjoying an outdoor country music concert, a mad man shot and killed 58 people and wounded over 500 more.  I continue to be moved by how quickly the Vegas community gathered together to help every family and individual who was impacted by this tragedy.  Immediately, they built a memorial; hundreds came to remember and mourn the victims and support their families. Out of respect for them, I will never again criticize this town (except for drivers who confuse city streets for the NASCAR track). Strangers helped the wounded get to safety; and the Review Journal highlighted each one of the 58 during the following weeks.  Sadly, it took an horrific event to learn  there is a lot more to Vegas than  'Disneyland on drugs', as my younger son once described the Strip.

When we first arrived in Sun City, we were met with temperatures high enough to bake a cake.  And more recently, we had winds that easily rivaled those in The Columbia River Gorge. I never saw Mitzi pee so quickly and dash for the house.  I was thrilled when Ken explained that the winds were bringing in a cold front.  And when the cold arrived (37 degrees), I was just as thrilled to have kept my wool garments.  I happily retrieved my  sweaters, shawls, and scarves, all hand-knitted apparel I was beginning to think I would never wear again.

Sun City is a very active community.  Right away, my husband joined a men's group that toured the Nevada Test Site.  Soon, they will be headed to Creech Air Force Base, which is a test site for drone warfare.  After all the war-related stuff, I think they ought to go to Sherrie's brothel for a change of pace. It's not all that far away; and they've done it before.  Ken was told they had a whopping great turnout.

I've tried to be social, as social as an introvert can be; but I much prefer working in my new studio to socializing.  I love looking out on our back yard, with its majestic palm trees, flowering plants of all kinds, quail families looking for tidbits, two recent coyotes passing through recently (Mitzi is never out of our sight, in spite of the fence all around), and rabbits, who live under our hedges.  I was delighted when a heron flew over our yard one day.  I wondered where it would feed, because after all, we live in the desert.  Just the other night, Ken and I heard an owl in one of our trees.  It was music to our ears.  Nature has helped me get through this transition.  During my obsession with all that is wrong about living here, namely the hellish summer heat, I had forgotten that the desert is alive and beautiful.  I'm still waiting to see a roadrunner.

I miss the Columbia River, with all its resident birds, so I am grateful that just down the road from us there are three man made lakes that are home to fish and ducks. Fish-eating birds have plenty of dining opportunities in Vegas; and of course, there is always Lake Mead to the south of us; so I won't worry about the heron.

I love winter, but I am learning to gradually appreciate the climate here.  The other day, I walked home from my new hairdresser's, which is just a few blocks away.  Half way home, I realized I will never have to worry about slipping on black ice and suffering another concussion.  Now, there's something to shout about.

Before too long, I'll be putting my wool stuff back in the cedar chest and getting ready for our next hot spell in Las Vegas. I'll try to think positive and focus on the cultural and natural opportunities here. At the same time, I'll be keeping my eye on Alaska.



 (c) Sally Zuck McBain