“Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above...don’t fence me in.” Cole Porter wrote that song for Roy Rogers (who, we later learned, was an ultraconservative of the most extreme and self-repressive, fenced-in kind), but he may as well have been writing about any number of natives of Tucson, my favorite town in the American Southwest. I’ve always sensed a kind of lawless spirit there that informs everything from driving style to personal expression to sexual identity and beyond. You can get away with so much more in Tucson than you can in other places. For example, artists and musicians flourish there, unbound by conventions imposed elsewhere. Just take a look at this inspired fence on University Blvd. that I passed not long ago on my traditional walk from A Mountain to the galleries at the U of A and back. Bed springs. Out in the elements. Rusting beautifully. Welcoming cactus behind, entwining vines throughout. So wonderful. So fitting. So Tucson.
I love this. So many one-liners come to mind. A visitor says he hopes he is not putting you out. "No prob! Of course, you'll have to sleep al fresco, strapped to the vertical bed springs up against the prickly pear cactus plants out next to the street...."
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