Sunday, January 10, 2010










The Mago Earth Park Statue that's been erected between Cottonwood and Sedona. OK, OK! I 'll comment.


Let's start with some background. Within the outer City limits of Cottonwood, right next to and looking at the new Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, a statue has been erected. The Korean owner of the property explains that she is a representation of Mago, (pronounced "mah-go") which translates roughly as "Mother Earth."

She's huge. The statue and base total 50 feet high. She also has an entourage of numerous other statues, (all comparatively tiny, all slightly ludicrous) of Jesus, Kokopelli, the Virgin Mary, 2 funny headed guys, 3 Disney-esque dwarfs, a Native American, Poseidon, a bunch of brightly colored and sparkly children............ you get the idea, all capering around her feet. I find the Mago circus to be kind of charming and amusing when I drive by.

Nobody that I've spoken to about Mago agrees with me about the whole thing being amusing. The vocal locals are up in arms. We've had weeks of poisonous letters to the Editor in the Verde Independent. The objections seem to be:


She's big.
She's a pagan idol.
There are tentative plans for her to be lighted at night.
She's not a Christian.
She's wasn't there before and it's a change.
She's mostly white, and doesn't blend in with the mostly brown landscape.
Even though she's white with blond hair her features are Asian.
Why is she named "Magoo" when she doesn't look anything like Mr. Magoo? Where are her horned-rimmed glasses?
Why does the Mago Earth Park get tax-deferred church status?
She's different and we don't like different.


If you're not from here, one of the things to understand is that Mago went up shortly after they opened the brand new Catholic Church next door. Like Mago, the Church is gorgeous. Like Mago, the Catholic Church is also huge and lighted at night and much lighter in color that the surrounding landscape and gets tax-deferred status and also wasn't there before. On my own personal hugeness scale, Mago is a 2 or 3 and the Church is an 8 or 9. See the picture, above? That's Mago to the right of the Church.

But you know what? It doesn't matter what my opinion is. If Mago was legally installed then I have no more right to complain than my neighbor has if I paint my house a color that they don't like.

But you know what else? This is my blog and I can say what I want, so I will voice my opinion, whether it matters or not.
We've had months of citizens yelling and almost coming to blows and writing letters to the Editor and showing up at City Council meetings, voicing opinions on both sides of the Mago issue.

Folks! It's a statue! We have hungry children in Cottonwood. We have homeless people. We have abused people, we have people sleeping under the bridge, we have animals dying in the shelters, we have life and death issues around here and YOU SHOW UP TO COMPLAIN ABOUT A FREAKIN' STATUE? Where were you when that baby was beaten into the hospital a few weeks ago? Did you show up then, expressing your outrage? Where were you when The Mission was concerned that they were running out of food? Did you write a letter to the paper? Did you show up with coats and blankets and food for the homeless when it got cold? People are homeless and dying and yet you sing "God Bless America" about THIS? If Mago is the only place that you're outraged then you should be ashamed of yourself.


That's what I think.















Monday, January 4, 2010

I've been pondering humans and our natures. If you had asked me a few days ago if I was a civilized human being or not, I would have told you, "Yes, most of the time." I've had moments in my life where I was not the least bit well-mannered, but I usually do OK in the civilization department.

But then something happened.

My just-turned-5 granddaughter Turtle and I went for a walk. We were moseying along, discussing the weighty question of whether or not a troll could beat a dragon if they got into a fight. We had pretty much decided that the troll would win, but only if he had captured some fairy dust and harnessed its power. I had to bow to Turtle's expertise in this subject and blindly agreed with her reasoning and conclusions.

Suddenly, four big dogs boiled out of a hole in a fence and came at us, snarling and barking and growling and snapping.

Instinct is incredible. Before I even had the thought process that my granddaughter and I were in danger from these dogs, I had hoisted Turtle up onto my back. She was holding on with her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. I suddenly had a stick in one hand and a big rock in the other, and I'm still not sure where those came from. These dogs were going to have to come through me to get to Turtle. I roared "BAD DOGS! NO!" in my biggest alpha-female voice.

The dogs screeched to a halt, surprised to see Turtle and I in the middle of their rumpus - they were playing and hadn't even noticed us. Instead of a pack of carnivorous predators bent on tearing us limb from limb, they were just a bunch of goofy slobbering Black Labs.

Some things are interesting about all this.

  • I didn't think about any of my actions. My body knew what to do to protect the child that was with me, with no help or interference from my brain.
  • I had no conscious thought about the stick and the rock. I guess that as we make our way through our lives our lizard brains note every possible weapon available in each area.
  • Turtle also had instinct working. That she was on my back so quickly amuses me. (She doesn't normally do anything without at least 15 minutes of discussion first.) Her body knew what to do and did it.

  • I had absolutely no thought for my own safety - I only thought about Turtle. Those dogs would have had to go through me to get to her. That instinct was fascinating. I've had my children - survival of the species mandated that I was going to sacrifice me to save the young female. I would have, too.
So why am I talking you about this on a real estate blog? Well, first of all, we left strict real estate behind months ago on this space - it was boring. Besides, what taps more closely into human nature than shelter, and home?


The only difference between the Neanderthal that I might have been thousands of years ago and the woman on Mingus View Drive last Saturday is the quality of our clothes.


Once I stopped shaking I noticed how many of Turtle's and my actions during that 5 or 10 seconds were pure instinct and reflex. I did what I did, and Turtle scurried up my back like a spider instead of stopping to explain that she can talk to the dogs, or that she's Wonder Woman or that she should just fly away.

When we got home to family dinner I paid attention to how much of our interactions follow old prehistoric paths. Pecking orders are strong, yet fluid. (Jess, my youngest son, stepped aside to let his older brother to fill his plate first. But then when a child screeched we all stepped aside so that Jess, the medic, could get down the hallway. Like that.)

The next day I showed property. The Buyers and I talked about leverage and investments, but the driving force was shelter and roots. This couple wanted safety and their own territory and their own place to be, inviolate from the rest of the world. We all want that - a safe, warm cave.


I showed them a bank-owned repo, and we saw some more primal human fallout. The previous owner had not only taken everything of value from the property, but he had fouled this nest to the point that nobody else would ever want to live there. This previous owner had literally marked the corners of his territory.

So the next time somebody brags about how civilized they are I'll remember what happened with those dogs. I'll remember that my "civilization" is just a thin veneer over a cavewoman that would have taken those dogs on with her teeth, if necessary to protect a dearly beloved child. I'll remember that we all operate from truths and patterns that are identical to the truths and patterns of our ancestors, with very few alterations.



I realize that I am not a fully evolved, civilized human being - I am a cavewoman who wears Reeboks.