Ruby and I take our morning stroll, serenaded by the roar of jet planes. Yea, verily: one of the reasons I hated living in Sun City: Luke AFB, just a few miles to the south and west.
Every goddamn morning: Blasts of jet engines greeted the rising sun.
Other reasons to find Sun City tedious:
* racism
* hatred of young people
* distance from decent shopping
* isolation
* ugly, cheaply built house
* ultra-tidiness
* gravel “lawns”
* no pets: nobody had dogs, though they were allowed.
We did: we had an annoying chihuahua…but my mother preferred cats. And you hafta say: cats don’t yap.
Way over here in North Central Phoenix, a good 20 miles away from Sun City and Luke, we can get the dawn jet blasts. Even though the planes don’t fly directly over the neighborhood, their engines are SO LOUD that you can hear the damn things INSIDE your amply insulated, solid block house with its double-paned windows and its attic blown full of insulation.
What a racket!
SDXB, a long-time newsman and then a PR guy, took a little job for Luke after he moved out to SC: answering the phone to citizens calling to bitch about the jet engine noise. It was a task that kept him busy.
My mother was one who did not bellyache about the racket. “It’s the sound of fweedom,” she used to simper.
No, Mom: it’s the sound of World War III, comin’ our way.
Of course I didn’t say that to her. She’d have backhanded me into the middle of next week for any such sass.
She did love living in Sun City, you hafta say that. So much so that she not only wasn’t bothered by the ungodly roar from Luke, she even claimed to like it.
Ugh. Never been so glad to move away from a place in my life.
And after 10 years in Saudi Arabia…that’s sayin’ something!