THEY ONLY COME OUT AT NIGHT (Part I of the Tucson Chronicles): We rolled into Tucson during the hottest part of the day which, in early July, comes any time between noon and sundown. In the morning, just before sunrise, the temp plunges to 83 degrees, the day’s low which is close to the average July high in my home turf of southeastern Wyoming. By 10 a.m, it's 92 in the shade; at noon it’s 100, and the thermometer keeps climbing. This is why most sensible travelers go to southern Arizona in January, or maybe March, when baseball’s spring training is in full swing and the Colorado Rockies (who train in Tucson) still have hopes of a non-losing season. We were there to visit my son Kevin and his fiancé, spending their first summer in Tucson. They work nights, sleep through much of the day’s heat. Daytime hibernation seems to be a key survival element. On July 3, we joined other nighthawks for a professional women’s softball game (Arizona Heat vs. Phoenix Flames) and fireworks display at Hi Corbett Field. On July 4, we explored Tucson and then took an evening stroll in Tucson Mountain Park, which butts up against Saguaro National Park. That night we watched the big Fourth of July fireworks display on “A” Mountain. Thousands of gawkers lined the roads and watched from the Waffle House parking lot, which is where we parked. Afterwards, we ate ice cream and went for a swim in the hotel pool, crowded with holiday revelers. That’s how I spent five days in Tucson: partially submerged in the hotel pool or fully immersed in A.C. You have to wonder how pre-A.C. residents spent their days. Probably the same way I survived my formative years in Florida without air conditioning: get a fan. One obvious difference between summers in Florida and Arizona: rain. In central Florida, afternoon thunderstorms are a daily event. It temporarily washes the air and provides a respite from the heat if not the humidity. Clouds are a rarity in Arizona, during this record-breaking year, before the midsummer monsoons blow in from Mexico.
