Friday, the last day. Debbi and I cruise some neighborhoods to look for Gran’s trailer park and the high school where Hector and Hannah go to school. We drive through some parks and decide they are a little too scrappy – Gran wouldn’t live there. Or there. Finally, we find the

My picture of the wall didn’t turn out — found this one on the internet. It is 14 feet tall, very ugly rusted metal. The crosses commemorate deaths. 

trash hidden in a nest under a mesquite tree in the national park 

Debbi McCullough’s dolls commemorating migrant deaths in the desert 


Today Hannah went to court to support two Samaritans who were recently arrested for assisting 3 immigrant travelers who they found in the desert suffering bloody stools and hallucinations – late stage dehydration. After consulting with a physician by phone, they were taking the travelers to the hospital and were stopped by border guards

Ed leads us on a path used by migrants to cross the AZ desert and mountains 

Arizona border home with razor wire around it. 

Hannah meets the desert

Hannah was shocked today. The desert was alive and green. August is monsoon season and the flowers, the thick clouds and the fire ants were all out in force. I know enough about the AZ desert to know that it is not just sand and camels – but I was not prepared


This trip seems somehow, weirdly, self-indulgent. I always feel guilty when leaving family at home. Always. The guilt will never go away or change – I have to just pack it with me and drag it along. An extra carry-on.
I am on this trip because I am researching a

New beginnings

Beginning to write a novel when you have never sold a novel is a risky venture. Admitting to others that you are attempting a novel is compounding the risk. Knowing that you cannot possibly complete said novel without the assistance of others, enlisting their help, asking them to donate time out of their

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