The Importance of Community

This is the second story in a series about community and its impact on us as individuals, in both our past and present lives. To better understand the series, I highly recommend starting with the first story, which you can find here:

All caught up? Then here we go!

I was born in 1956, the youngest of 4 siblings. I spent the first 9 years of my life in a small, desert town on the Mexico border you may have heard of. Douglas, Arizona's claim to fame is truly unique. It's the U.S. side of one of the most sophisticated drug smuggling operations ever devised. I'm talking about a concrete-lined, underground tunnel that was used to transfer truckloads of cocaine by handcart to a home on the U.S side. The receiving entrance to the Douglas tunnel was, and I kid you not, hidden under a pool table on hydraulic lifts. You can read all about it here:

Quite a distinction for our little town, don't you think? Now, all of that happened in the 1980's so it doesn't take a lot of math skills to conclude that my family had moved away long before then. In the 50's, Douglas and its sister city, Agua Prieta (dark or brown water – take your pick, both are accurate) were quiet little border towns, full of friendly people.

The Customs stop at the border was a regular part of our lives, as my mother worked as a practical nurse and a baker in Agua Prieta. Dr. Bribiesca was our family doctor and we kids never lacked for baked goodies. (Brownie ends are the bomb!) On the Douglas side of the border, we lived for many years in the Coronado Courts.

If you're not familiar with “courts,” they're communities within communities; small, identical apartments or townhouses, built around a central, common square that serves as a shared recreation area. I don't believe the term, “courts” is used often today, but you're probably aware of similar housing options in your own town.

Many of the families in the Coronado Courts at the time were Mexican and the kids were my fellow students at “A” Avenue Elementary School, a two-story, brick beauty across the street from the Courts. We walked to school together, ate our lunches together and played together during recess and after school at the Courts. Skin color, race and nationality weren't an issue, because we didn't “see” the differences. That's a mindset I'm glad I learned early in life and I've held to it as well as passed it on to my kids.

There was one interesting quirk to being a young, blonde-haired, white boy in the Courts, then. All of my friends' moms fawned over me. When I'd go to a friend's home, I had to have an apple, an orange, or a warm, freshly made tortilla, slathered with butter. (To this day, that's one of my favorite snacks.) For a while, my parents were concerned that I never had much of an appetite at dinnertime.

A new subdivision was eventually built on the outskirts of Douglas, dubbed “Foothills” and Mom and Dad bought a new home there during the early development phase. Dad was a cabinet maker and with his and Mom's income, we weren't affluent, but we were comfortable. Life changed significantly. Much of our life in that home is a blur to me now.

My fondest memories of that time were with the new Boston Terrier, “Bullet,” that my parents gave me, probably as consolation for moving away from my friends in the old community. My least fond are flashes of the tension that grew between my parents and consequently, the entire family. I may find stories to write about the Foothills one day, but for now, I'm happy with the memories of Coronado Courts and there are a few side stories to come from that time.

I was pleased to find that Google Maps© confirms both the Courts and my elementary school still exist, although the Courts now cover much more area and “A” Avenue school has had a nice facelift. The steps where I played “Superman” are still there, but that's just one of many more side stories to come.

I count myself very fortunate to have lived in this little town, especially during the early years of my life. While the geographic location is only part of its impact on me then, growing up in the desert was a very rich experience. It taught me to appreciate the beauty of nature on a different level and even as a youngster, I learned much about survival, physically and financially. I also can't overemphasize the value of starting life in such a wonderful mix of races and cultures.

By the time I was ready to start the fifth grade, we had pulled up stakes and moved very briefly to Colorado Springs, then Fountain, Colorado. Fountain brought a new set of adventures and will be the next location I write about in this series – although it actually involved two distinct communities.

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Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the story, please click on the little heart below and leave a comment, and/or a small tip. See you in the next community!

Volume 3 is here: