|
Bisbee,
Arizona news, reviews, art, events, history, business and entertainment
|
 |
|
We make the rounds, talking to vendors and visitors alike. Mostly everybody seems to be having a nice time. The knife and scissors sharpener, Ed Souliere, seems a little out of sorts because he's having trouble with his van.
"It's the battery or the alternator," he says. "Hope it's the battery, it won't cost so much." A couple come up to him. The guy asks Ed if he's going to be here next week. They want to bring some knives. "Might not be able to leave ," says Ed, who lives in Hereford. "Worse places," sez the guy and walks off. We talk to Gloria, who sells homemade soaps and lotions from a table covered with a pink blanket. She says she's sold a lot today. "Now I have to go home and make some more," she smiles. "That's the trouble." And we visit with a lady in a wheelchair under a young Sycamore named Emma Johns - the lady, not the Sycamore - who is promoting the Greyhound Adoption League and jewelry. "All this is made by my son Mark," she says. "No plastic. None of this is junk."
And there's Linda Green, giving chair massages in the deep shade. And there are Chris and Ray, herbologists and purveyors of 'fantasy knives.' They're in it for the long run, they seem to be saying. They plan on having a lot more stuff out here. "All of our crystals are coming in from Austria," Ray is saying. "And we're getting a lot of stuff from Egypt." We reach down to a particularly nasty looking piece of cutlery - just what kind of fantasies are these? - as Ray raises a warning hand. "Don't touch the blade. What ever you do, don't touch the blade."
They're doing a brisk business over at a fruit and vegetable stand. A man and a girl are bagging up groceries about as fast as people are handing them over, cash and tomatoes flashing back and forth so fast we're having trouble getting photos. We move around to the long end of the table, locked in that classic photographer stance we often admired and have tried to emulate when, lo, through the viewfinder, we see a woman at the other end of the table with a squash in her hand staring at us. Staring at us. We've seen this look before.
It's only a matter of seconds before she's at our shoulder. "Excuse me, Sir, I'm concerned about my image here," she says. "Running a little paranoid here, are we?" we ask. We think about sending her over to the meteorology-solar-cookery conspiracy across the way. "Well I know a little about photography and I don't want to wind up on top of a naked body." Well, now... a dozen things run through our lightning, rapier-like mind. What do we tell this woman? That it might turn out to be an improvement for her? That we often want to wind up on top of.... "Right," is what we actually say. "You're wise to be careful." "Well it is my image. So if you don't mind...." "Actually, we didn't take your picture."
Continued
|
