Page 14 of Phoenix Fire

“No, it doesn't bother me at all. I'm in no way offended.” She snickered. “Guess it makes me feel a tad silly, though.”

“You're not silly at all. You're honest and true to your feelings, and you don't mind sharing them. You're strong and confident in your words and actions. That's enviable. You have a soul, Jenny Anne. Some people don't know how to find their souls, too busy seeing life in black and white terms, too incapable of coming to terms with thoughts that seem alien to them. Some people are too busy acting out their little deceptions, too busy contriving instead of striving. You are, in short, a remarkable woman. There, I've had my say. Hope it didn't sound too arrogant, didactic, and/or pedantic.”

Jenny looked at the strong, pleasantly assured profile of the man with whom she was falling in love. With little effort she could cry tears of joy, but she would not. So many emotions stirred within her. Finally, she could only mutter a weak retort: “Takes one to know one.”

They looked at each other for some seconds. Jason put his right hand over her left upturned palm, squeezed gently, and smiled a warm and silent response. He then returned to the business of driving.

They were quiet for a protracted period of time, each lost in the motor hum, the tires whine, and the vast desert all around them. Their silence was not an uncomfortable thing.

Jenny spoke first. “Have we been doing some metaphysical, philosophical meandering here? It seems to me we got pretty deep.” She snickered.

“Suppose we did, in some very general way. Why do you ask?”

“Hmm, I don't know. Guess I just have a lot of questions crowding my mind.”

“Questions? Like, what?”

“Well, like, what gives you pleasure in life, Jason? What is it you want from life?”

“Oh, I suppose the first question is the easiest to answer, sort of. What gives me pleasure in life? Well, I'm a lucky guy because my work gives me a lot of pleasure. Maybe you'll get a hint of that today. Many people can't say they get pleasure from their work. Lots of studies show that there are people stuck in jobs they hate, just marking time day in, day out. Had a man tell me once that he worked in a sub-assembly division of a major aircraft plant, stamping numbers on wires, clustering those wires, small and large, and soldering them into receptacles of one size or another. The whole process was so boring he lived for the fifteen-minute coffee breaks and the thirty-minute lunch breaks, dying little by little in between. The stamping process and the soldering joints needed to conform ever so precisely to specifications, and many times they did not conform. The man said the quality control people often times approved the receptacles without carefully, thoroughly checking the soldering joints.

“Now, that scared me when he told me about the shoddy inspections. Those receptacles go into passenger jets that people use for cross-country travel. If we have people working on critical parts of an airplane with such boredom and nonchalance, you have to wonder if that behavior ultimately results in major crashes.

“But just imagine the thousands, tens of thousands, of people who have jobs they hate, bored out of their minds. For one reason or another, they are stuck in those jobs. The pay is good. It's the only job they know. They have no ambition or aptitude for anything else. So many people never find out in life what it is they really want to do. Imagine, mired for years, a lifetime, in an endless string of hours hating what you're doing.

“Me? I'm a lucky man, a fortunate man. Sure, I was born into privilege, never really wanted for much. When my parents were killed by a truck driver asleep at the wheel, I felt lost for a while, cheated, depressed, lots of anxiety, whatever. But Grandma Myrena and Grandpa John took up the slack and were always there for me. They pointed me toward my work of choice with careful guidance and positive stroking.”

Jason became conscious that he was really talking too long and he glanced over at Jenny. She seemed rapt by his words, so he continued.

“So I'm doing what I love to do, creating, developing, something that will live beyond my lifetime. We're driving to the most important work project with which I'll ever be involved. 'Apple Brown Betty.' Crazy name, huh? 'Apple Brown Betty' was a dream that began when I was a kid, really, sitting in that wonderful old parlor with Grandma Myrena and Grandpa John. They began talking about 'Apple Brown Betty' all those years ago. Of course, they didn't call it 'Apple Brown Betty' then, but that's when the idea was born, sitting there in front of that beautiful stone fireplace.

“They had spent some time in Mexico. They loved the small villages there, the lazy, peaceful, way of life. They loved the smell of refried beans, the music of the Mariachis, the people with deep furrowed faces and forgotten dreams. The world of Mexico fascinated my grandparents and I suspect they felt some sort of national guilt for having taken some of their land --- and maybe those 'forgotten dreams.' Anyway, that's where the idea was born and incubated.

“Grandma and Grandpa experienced some of what you experienced, looking out toward those mountains. Something stirred within them, maybe that ancestral thing you mentioned, and they wanted to recreate a village reminiscent of their composite Mexican town right here in Arizona. There were, and are, lots of Mexican-Americans here in Arizona, living in some semblance of a Mexican community, but it wasn't the same thing for my grandparents. They wanted to build the Mexican village that was in their minds and in their hearts.

“The problem, the dream came too late for Grandpa John.” Jason paused, lost for some seconds in thought. Then, he glanced at Jenny. “You want more?”

“Oh, yes, please,” she quickly answered.

“Well, Grandma Myrena built that dream in me. She tried to include Carlton in the dream, but he was too busy being a brat. Anyway, Carlton and I were taken on some of those trips to Mexico. After Grandpa John died, Grandma Myrena took us on those Mexican holidays. I fell in love with the dusty roads, the smells, the mariachis, the hard brown faces of the people, the aura of the small Mexican village, just like my grandparents fell in love with the country.

“All through college and all through my early development projects, that dream stayed with me and it stayed with Grandma Myrena. Finally, I decided it was time to create the reality from the dream.

“Originally, I wanted to acquire some land around Bartlett Dam, government owned land. It was an area where we had camped a lot as kids, and Carlton and I romped, played, and were closer than we had ever been as brothers, likely closer than we will ever be again.”

Jason hesitated, and Jenny could see a wistful sadness settle on his face. He took a deep breath and continued.

“Anyway, that was the place, in that general area, where I wanted to ultimately build 'Apple Brown Betty.' Unfortunately, we could never get the government to do some land swapping.

“So, we had a considerable land holding down here in the Casa Grande area. It was in the family for many years. I decided, with Grandma Myrena's blessing, that 'Apple Brown Betty' would come to life on this land. It just needed some imagination and some resources turned its way.

“Today, you see firsthand what gives me pleasure. At least, you will see the beginning, meager efforts expended thus far. You will have to wait about five to ten years to see the entire dream come into full focus. But you have the imagination and vision to see it today, just about as it will be ten years from now.

“That is what gives me pleasure, Jenny. What I want from life naturally follows. I want to see the dream of 'Apple Brown Betty' become reality. I want to know that I did it. It is, no doubt, an ego thing, but I'd like to think that it's a lot more than that, like maybe a monument to Grandma Myrena and Grandpa John, something with my signature on it, something that I can leave for posterity. It better be a lot of things! It's going to take just about all that I own before it's finished.”

Jason was coming to his exit off Interstate 10 as he turned on his directional light and glanced again at Jenny. “You will see soon, Jenny Anne.”

She giggled, like a schoolgirl. “I really never liked anyone calling me Jenny Anne – sounded so 'hill-billyish.' But I like you saying it. Oh, I'm so excited, Jason. Thank you for sharing your beautiful dream with me, for all the beautiful words you've spoken.” She gently touched his shoulder and allowed her hand to linger there.

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