5:09 a.m. - Sunday, Feb. 05, 2006
MsLeslie gambles and gambols
Mesquite, Nevada lies on the Virgin River in a corner of a desert so harsh that even the bush that names the town struggles to survive. Indeed, it took three attempts during the nineteenth century before the area could be made to yield a living for the Mormon polyandrists who settled it. Even then, had Interstate 15, which follows the old Mormon road past the town, not been built, Mesquite would likely never have been much of a town. Today it�s growing, thanks mainly, I think, to the ubiquitous Californians who sell their homes for a million and buy bigger new ones for two hundred thousand just about anywhere they can drive. Where the water comes from I do not know.
There are a few minor casinos in the town, making their profit from the Mormons who come from nearby southern Utah, sometimes still in their Sunday clothes, to gamble and gambol for a few hours where they hope to escape God�s notice. Everything about these casinos is mediocre except one�. There are two and five dollar craps tables.
These casinos are so needy that they will send even me cards offering free rooms if I will come to play. For my mother, who practically has dual citizenship in the town, they will throw in free day spas, meals, and admission for two to any entertainment they can muster.
So naturally, we had to spend a night in Mesquite on our three day journey across the two hundred miles from Las Vegas to Cedar City. No problem: Mesquite is my favorite gambling destination. I made the money back in Mesquite that I had lost in Vegas, even though I had to play two-dollar craps until my eyes bled.
The following day, we drove the remaining ninety miles up to Cedar City, the �Gateway to it All�, on the edge of the Markagunt Plateau and home of Cedar Breaks. It�s also the home of snow in the desert. I hate snow. Before my visit had even begun, I was eager to get out of that cold and desolate place.
Cedar City is also the unmentioned home of the Mormon perpetrators of the �Mountain Meadows Massacre� which took place nearby in 1857. It stood for many years, until the bombing in Oklahoma of the Murrough building, as the largest and most heinous mass murder in American history. I am told there is a small monument standing at the site, but it is the very last place on earth to which my mother will drive me.
Mom is arguably one of those Californians I mentioned. Although she is a child of Utah, she lived for over twenty years in Escondido before selling her home there and buying a new home in Cedar City. My sister, no longer able to take care of herself due to a failed surgery on her wrist years ago and a lifetime of the most incredible bad luck I�ve ever seen, was living with her, so mom hired a contractor to transform part of the basement into a cute two-bedroom apartment. It was here that my sister died last July, in the hallway to her private entrance, kneeling on the floor, fumbling with her oxygen machine and foaming pink from her mouth. At the end, she looked my mother in the eyes and, as if with a kind of sudden understanding, said a single word, �Oh�� and then slumped to the floor in death.
It was in this apartment that I spent my nights with mom. I smoked outside in the shelter of sister�s basement entrance. Each time I went there, I crossed the spot where the tracks of my sister�s life ended. It never failed to make me reflect on the fact that I got to earth five years before she did and I am still here while she is gone. It seems unfair... she did everything right and I have done everything wrong in life. There is no justice.
I also slept in her bed, between two of those touch operated lamps that seemed to have minds of their own. If I turned one off, it would mysteriously turn itself on during the night. One or the other was always burning, which seemed to speak to my sister�s aggravating and expensive habit of leaving her lights on twenty-four seven. I profess ignorance as to the cause, but my mother is convinced that some leftover essence of my sister remains in her room, keeping a light burning for herself.
I was cold every minute I spent in Cedar City, and especially in my basement quarters. It stayed cold down there no matter what I did. My father drove down from Ogden with his wife to spend a couple of nights visiting with me. He has changed since my sister�s death and so where before, he would not take the time from his church and leisure duties to spend time with his family, he is now suddenly all about family and his children. I was honored, but I can tell you here, I�m also a little bit cynical.
I shoveled the driveway for my mother, wearing a long skirt and a cloth jacket; The best winter clothing a southern magnolia like myself could find. I did some handyman repairs for her, using the tools I require her to keep in the garage for me. No one else is allowed to touch them, for they need to be where I can find them when I need them.
Then, thankfully, we were on our way back down the hill where the sun could warm the earth� and me. The craps dealers in Mesquite had not had the time to forget me and here I was again on our return trip, ready to roll them bones!
I hope I never have to go to Cedar City in the wintertime again.
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