November – Ordinary Time

Less than an hour from our home in Tucson, Arizona where we have lived for more than twenty years, we took a right turn. I glanced over at my son who was driving. It was 6 a.m., and we were on our way to the Town of Oracle where he was set to time the Oracle Run, a 5/10K race that was marking its 40^th year on this “sky island” perched at about 4,500 feet at the base of the Catalina Mountains. I am not a runner, but after years of being a track mom, I continue to volunteer to assist when needed. I was also looking forward to seeing our daughter-in-law and grandbabies when they would meet us an hour or so later. 

“Why have I never been on this road?” 

My sister, also in the car and preparing to run the 10K, sipped her Starbucks coffee and noted that I should prepare myself to step back in time and simply enjoy the morning. She first ran here a couple of years ago and came from Phoenix the night before to participate in this iconic race in this equally iconic town.

I have lived in nine states and two countries and have traveled through several more on various adventures. But just then, as has happened a few times in my life, I was physically steered away from a road I have driven many times and onto another that significantly jostled my perception of where I have always lived, worked, shopped, and eaten. How could I be so oblivious to potential experiences hidden “just around the corner” from my established routines?

“Walk around and explore Mom,” my son advised while he was setting up his timing equipment. “Everything begins and ends in the museum over there,” he said, pointing to the weathered ranch-style building with a huge wrap-around porch adjacent from where we parked. I knew he meant that the race’s base camp had been set up at the entrance of the museum, but as I discovered, there were lots of beginnings and endings to explore up the wooden steps and through the front door.

The museum is operated by the Oracle Historical Society and is housed in what used to be the Acadia Ranch, built in 1882 by Edwin and Lillian Dodge. It not only served as a boarding house and guest ranch, but also as a tuberculosis sanatorium. According to information posted on the museum’s website: “It was at the turn of the last century that Oracle gained international fame as an ideal cure for those suffering from ‘consumption,’ the name given to tuberculosis and other lung afflictions at a time before penicillin. After an article was published in the leading medical journal, many came to Oracle in the belief the fresh air would restore them to good health.”  (There is a wealth of information about the museum, history, and culture of Oracle to be found on the museum’s website: https://www.oraclehistoricalsociety.org).

Each room of the inn opened my eyes to not just time gone by, but time eternal. The first room was dedicated to a mixed display honoring the tradition of Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). Photos of family members were interspersed on tables laden with colorful representations of papier maché food, painted skulls, sheet draped ghosts, and lanky skeletons. Perched against a wall was an unrelated sign outlining Mine Rules dating back to the early 1900s from the nearby San Manuel copper mine.

The adjoining rooms led to a kitchen, dining hall, sitting area, and guest quarters, complete with a metal framed bed and assorted medical instruments for those in treatment for their lung ailments. I couldn’t resist lifting the heavy kettle from the kitchen stove and trying to put myself in place of those who came before me. The best part of this museum is the ability to touch and feel the history – hardly anything is locked under glass, including shards of pottery that date even further back to when the Hohokam and Apache settled in the area a thousand or so years before the inn was even conceived.

I wandered the grounds surrounding the main building and discovered the ranch’s tack room and icehouse. In the time before the starting gun fired, I found a quiet spot on the porch to sit and enjoy my own cup of coffee. I have always loved those gliders that go back and forth on rusty springs. I filled my lungs with the cool morning air and completely understood the healing energy to be found in this mixed climate of desert and mountain currents. I marveled at a landscape that not only nurtured cacti, but also pine trees.

I didn’t run the race, and I honestly didn’t help my son with any of his timing duties, but I did rack up nearly 5K worth of steps running a “race” with my three-year-old grandson and guiding our one-year-old granddaughter over the bumps in the road she toddled over. I felt totally justified in buying the t-shirt!

Proud of my sister for winning her age group in the 10K and just as proud of my son for timing with no glitches, I thanked them both for inviting me along. “Glad I could help,” I said, acknowledging their eye rolls with a smile. 

I felt revitalized not only by Oracle’s healing breezes, but also by the gift of being nudged, via a right turn, toward a new road on my own personal odyssey.  There are so many treasures to discover just “around the corner.”

Note: So what is a sky island? A sky island is defined as an isolated mountain range separated from other mountains and surrounding lowlands of a different environment – such as a forest surrounded by desert. There are several examples of these sky islands in southern Arizona and northern Mexico. (Find more information at https://skyislandalliance.org).