I love Flagstaff.
It's our crazy uncle to the north. The city that shows up to family functions late, if at all, reeking of cheap liquor and Pinesol.
An eclectic explosion of free thinkers, loggers, aging hippies, Gen X slackers, Valley expats and weekend family gawkers, one would expect such a scene somewhere in Oregon or Northern California. But just a couple hours north of the conservative bastion that spawned Barry Goldwater and John McCain? It's another world entirely.
As we have for the past few years, my family trudged up the hill to our place in Munds Park for 4th of July weekend. 20 miles south of Flag, and right off the I-17, it is the perfect spot. Close enough to town for entertainment and necessities, but far enough removed to enjoy the bit of seclusion that one envisions for an A-frame cabin in the woods.
Circumstances keeping us down in the Valley until Friday, we hit the road mid-morning on the fourth. Unfortunately, that meant we missed the parade in downtown Flagstaff and the local Munds Park version as well. No matter, we made it into downtown Flag shortly after one, where we met my folks, who had come up the prior day.
With my niece, Amber, in tow, Brandi, the boys and I met up with my mom and dad at an arts & crafts festival in Wheeler Park. For five bucks, we were able to bounce the boys crazy in a bounce-house/inflatable slide smorgasbord. We perused the craft stands, sampled some barbeque and watched the boys dance to a local blues band before piling back in the car to hit the next venue.
The Continental Country Club has been the highlight of Fourth of July's past, but it served as the consolation prize this year. The local symphony was to be accompanied by a laser show at the outdoor amphitheater this year. TICKETS WERE FREE! Alas, you still had to have tickets. All three thousand were sold out before we even knew the event was scheduled. No fear, we would hit the country club in style, and have ourselves a grand old time.
And we did.
If anything, we had a far better time this year with the sparser crowd. While the cool people of Flagstaff rocked out to lasers and classical music, we watched another local band, enjoyed great food and drink (Stone IPA on tap for $3!!!) and splendid company. Some family friends have a condo in the area, and we hooked up with them. With little ones of their own, it afforded the adults (I guess you can include me) the opportunity to catch up while the kids wrought havoc on the golf course. As with years past, there were fun activities like a water balloon toss. Unlike past years, however, other participants got more than they bargained for when we turned it into a full on war. There is an empty cooler of water and a drenched contestant somewhere who will unequivocally tell you that victory went to Team Slaybaugh.
Heading back to the cabin, parents as wiped out as kids, we opted to forego the fireworks. With only one display slotted for the entire area, it would have required 15 miles of travel on unpaved road to Mormon Lake. They weren't going to get cookin' until 9 PM either. With little eyelids getting heavier and heavier until closing up shop for the day on the drive home, we opted to finish the evening on the front deck of the cabin. After carefully transferring the sleeping boys from car seats to beds, we put on sweatshirts, cracked open a bottle of red for the white and blue, and stared up at where the stars should have been. We were only disappointed that a cloud cover had muted the heavens for a minute or two. Soon we heard faraway booms and saw faint traces of light silhouette the pines before us. Inconceivably, we served as the western outpost for the fireworks display. We could not make out the colors nor the patterns, just the flashes. It was actually a bit Orwellian, as if the War of the Worlds had just been launched on the far side of the mountain. Mormon Lake seemed an odd choice of epicenter, but ... to celebrate a nation born of cannon fire and rocket glare, it was ... perfect.
Happy Birthday, America.
- The Slaybaughs
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