Blue sentiments on a red car in a blue city in a red state. I love Tucson. Maybe because the university there attracts a somewhat bohemian (by Arizona standards) crowd that lingers long past graduation. Or maybe because word is out that this cultural oasis in a vast Southwestern wasteland tends to be more tolerant than its geographic neighbors. Or because the downtown/university beat is not only walkable but abounds with innovative galleries, clubs and funky shops...along with the scented-candle and ceramic-cactus tourist emporiums. Used bookstores, used clothing stores...it’s where the sharing-and-caring Freecycle began and continues to thrive. And this political-statement-on-wheels is just one of countless examples of the liberal spirit that invests the city. Another: the high degree of acceptance for transgendered people. Every time I visit I seem to meet at least one more person who, I learn later, started life as a member of the opposite sex. (On my most recent trip, I was introduced to a scruffy boxer and all-around auto-mechanic-type guy...and guess what?) The town attracts poets, photographers, painters, sculptors with its mild, open-air spaces and relatively cheap rents. Add to this an enviably easy camaraderie and seeming lack of East Coast competitive nastiness. No wonder my soul opens up every time my friends Simon and David welcome me “home.”
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