Tucson, the Sonoran Desert, and Southern Arizona is my favorite place away from home, and if my family didn't live here in New England, I'm sure that I would be living under the Arizona sun today. Since I first went to Tucson almost 30 years ago, many of my memories, attitudes and ideas about the area have been fondly connected to Homer. A Yankee quite a bit out of my element in the Grand Canyon State, I had the great fortune to work with Homer as ASARCO's Silverbell Mine for about a year, starting soon after I arrived. While I worked and carpooled with Homer, he taught me a lot about desert vegetation and wildlife, about mining, surveying, dowsing, rocks and minerals, about the blended cultures of the Southwest, and about people and human nature. More than any other single person, he helped to form my image of Arizona, a place I came to love.
I'm not sure when I started to have confidence in the transplanted Midwesterner I was working with. He was very friendly and helpful to this newcomer, but he also told some incredible stories and had some unorthodox views of the world. He was a dowser, for goodness' sake! The first break wasn't with dowsing; though, it was with a more basic connection--food. From the first week I was at the mine, Homer suggested that I shouldn't carry a lunch on Thursdays, for that was the day there was all-you-could-eat Mexican food at the company cafeteria. In l974, Mexican food wasn't nationally popular, as it is today. I had never had a burrito or a taco, and I had no idea what a tortilla was. After a couple of weeks I gave in, and after that I never carried a Thursday lunch again. Eventually I was frying my own tortillas, and for a while I ate Mexican food at home daily.
With dowsing, the change came one day when a piece of heavy equipment broke through to an old, unmapped shaft. This was a clear hazard to everyone working nearby. We were surveying a few miles away, when Homer was called over the truck radio and asked to come to mark the shaft location. Skeptical, I thought that I was in for some humorous Old West adventure. When we arrived at the came-in, Homer pulled out two, L-shaped brass rods and handed me a can of red spray paint. He was going to walk back and forth, and each time the rods crossed I was to spray a line on the ground. Within a few minutes, two parallel lines emerged; however, then the rods started crossing constantly and Homer started walking greater distances before turning. It looked like a total mishmash. Finally, he turned to me and said, "What do you think?" I looked back, and his success was suddenly clear. He hadn't located one old mine shaft but two--going in different directions, apparently at different levels. Before long I was trying the rods, and they even worked for me--even though I never learned to estimate water flow or answer weighty questions with them.
My favorite times at the mine were out of the office--and, and even better, out of the pits. Some of our duties sent us out into unscarred desert, where I could fall into a teddy bear cactus and learn first-hand something about its fishhook needles, or use the surveying rod to knock fruit from the top of a short saguaro. Homer showed me how to get at the fruit without getting pricked, and--about the teddy bear cactus--he didn't make me feel bad. He let on that he had done the same thing once himself. As far as I know, once was enough for each of us.
Homer taught me the difference between gold and fool's gold, and he helped me to collect a variety of mineral samples. Mine weren't as impressive as his, but he had been at it for more years. While we worked together, I picked up a dried out teddy bear cactus skeleton (which Homer identified for me) and a dried saguaro rib. Both of these are still curiosities to guest in my Vermont home. I learned about Arizona history and current events. I learned why the water at the bottom of the pits was deep blue, the best time of day to visit the Grand Canyon, and about all sorts of places to visit, near and far. Homer and Marge invited me over to dinner and helped make me feel at home in my new location. They lent me books and gave me all sorts of tips that are so helpful to newcomers. And from both of them I leaned about Wisconsin winters and other good reasons to live in the desert.
Most of all, besides all of the "things" I learned from Homer, I appreciated his individuality. He was his own person--a thoughtful and caring man who listened to what others thought but who was still secure in going his own way and having his own ideas, even when they bucked conventional thinking. There are many good, interesting and important people from Arizona--both past and present--but the most significant Arizonian in my life will always be Homer Hefty. As enormous as the state is, it will never be quite the same
Views expressed by contributors do not necessarily reflect those of the Tucson Dowsers.
I'm not sure when I started to have confidence in the transplanted Midwesterner I was working with. He was very friendly and helpful to this newcomer, but he also told some incredible stories and had some unorthodox views of the world. He was a dowser, for goodness' sake! The first break wasn't with dowsing; though, it was with a more basic connection--food. From the first week I was at the mine, Homer suggested that I shouldn't carry a lunch on Thursdays, for that was the day there was all-you-could-eat Mexican food at the company cafeteria. In l974, Mexican food wasn't nationally popular, as it is today. I had never had a burrito or a taco, and I had no idea what a tortilla was. After a couple of weeks I gave in, and after that I never carried a Thursday lunch again. Eventually I was frying my own tortillas, and for a while I ate Mexican food at home daily.
With dowsing, the change came one day when a piece of heavy equipment broke through to an old, unmapped shaft. This was a clear hazard to everyone working nearby. We were surveying a few miles away, when Homer was called over the truck radio and asked to come to mark the shaft location. Skeptical, I thought that I was in for some humorous Old West adventure. When we arrived at the came-in, Homer pulled out two, L-shaped brass rods and handed me a can of red spray paint. He was going to walk back and forth, and each time the rods crossed I was to spray a line on the ground. Within a few minutes, two parallel lines emerged; however, then the rods started crossing constantly and Homer started walking greater distances before turning. It looked like a total mishmash. Finally, he turned to me and said, "What do you think?" I looked back, and his success was suddenly clear. He hadn't located one old mine shaft but two--going in different directions, apparently at different levels. Before long I was trying the rods, and they even worked for me--even though I never learned to estimate water flow or answer weighty questions with them.
My favorite times at the mine were out of the office--and, and even better, out of the pits. Some of our duties sent us out into unscarred desert, where I could fall into a teddy bear cactus and learn first-hand something about its fishhook needles, or use the surveying rod to knock fruit from the top of a short saguaro. Homer showed me how to get at the fruit without getting pricked, and--about the teddy bear cactus--he didn't make me feel bad. He let on that he had done the same thing once himself. As far as I know, once was enough for each of us.
Homer taught me the difference between gold and fool's gold, and he helped me to collect a variety of mineral samples. Mine weren't as impressive as his, but he had been at it for more years. While we worked together, I picked up a dried out teddy bear cactus skeleton (which Homer identified for me) and a dried saguaro rib. Both of these are still curiosities to guest in my Vermont home. I learned about Arizona history and current events. I learned why the water at the bottom of the pits was deep blue, the best time of day to visit the Grand Canyon, and about all sorts of places to visit, near and far. Homer and Marge invited me over to dinner and helped make me feel at home in my new location. They lent me books and gave me all sorts of tips that are so helpful to newcomers. And from both of them I leaned about Wisconsin winters and other good reasons to live in the desert.
Most of all, besides all of the "things" I learned from Homer, I appreciated his individuality. He was his own person--a thoughtful and caring man who listened to what others thought but who was still secure in going his own way and having his own ideas, even when they bucked conventional thinking. There are many good, interesting and important people from Arizona--both past and present--but the most significant Arizonian in my life will always be Homer Hefty. As enormous as the state is, it will never be quite the same
Views expressed by contributors do not necessarily reflect those of the Tucson Dowsers.
