Until 1984 when I left the insurance business and began writing full-time, I had never been a stay-at-home mother. After that, and long before it became a “thing,” I became a work-at-home mother. Now I’m a work-at-home caregiver which means I don’t get out much. Most of my social interactions happen online, by email or text. Snail mail? Not so much. That involves writing a letter on my computer, printing it, locating a stamp and envelope, and getting it in the mail. For someone with no secretarial help, that’s way too much work. But I digress.
These days I generally receive at least two AI-generated scam emails a day. They generally begin with something like, “I hope you’re having a pleasant day. My name is Something or Other, and I’m the “organizer, founder, or director of—take your pick—the Tea Drinker’s, Tequila Lovers, Mozambique Readers Club—take your pick again. For a small fee we would like to introduce, feature or present your wonderful your book, such and such, (usually one of my older titles), with its emotionally impactful, thrilling, and spellbinding storytelling to our countless members. Believe me, you need a tall pair of boots to make your way through that pile of BS. (Thank you, Andy Griffith for “What it Was, Was Football.”)
This week, I received an email that started in a similar fashion. Luckily, I read far enough to learn that it was a genuine invitation from a bookstore in Bremerton asking me to participate in an outdoor literary event in July, one which I’ve actually agreed to do. By the way, there was no charge for my agreeing to do so.
That’s the bad news in the email department. But this week, too, on a day when I received two of the above missives, I also received separate letters from two women—one in Arizona and one in California—telling me that my books had helped them through the process of negotiating some really tough losses. Those letters were like finding a lost diamond ring inside the debris of a commercial vacuum cleaner, which I did once in real life, but that’s another story.
As part of her note, the fan from Arizona mentioned liking how much my realistic descriptions of places in Arizona and of desert monsoons made the landscapes in my books come to life. One of the spots she mentioned in particular was Skeleton Canyon. As a result, in my response to her, I told her about my very real connection to Skeleton Canyon. And since I spent the better part of an hour of yesterday’s writing time describing it for her, I decided to include that essay in today’s blog. And here it is:
My folks loved picnics. Sometime in the fifties, my mother decided we should go on a Sunday picnic to Skeleton Canyon, and off we went in our 1953 DeSoto with my parents and baby sister in the front seat and my three younger brothers and me in the back, where we spent most of the time going duking it out over who got to sit by a window.
Skeleton Canyon is close to the border between Arizona and New Mexico. When it was time to head home, my mother said, “Let’s go home the long way.” So we did.
This was a time when news wasn’t 24/7. We knew what the weather had been like in our part of southern Arizona, but what was happening on the far side of the Chiricahuas in western New Mexico was a complete mystery. When we left our picnic area and started down the far side of the mountains on a dirt road, we began encountering running washes. The farther we went, the deeper they got. At some point I heard my dad say to my mom, “I don’t think we’ll be able to go back up.”
Once we finally exited the mountains, we found ourselves facing the Animas Playa which is a usually dry desert lakebed, only this time it wasn’t dry. Instead, it was a vast expanse of water. The road was completely invisible, and only the tops of fence posts sticking out of the water on each side suggested where the pavement might be, so my father set his jaw, drove us to a spot at the midpoint between the two sets of fenceposts, and away we went.
With most of his family in the car and his hands on the wheel, I’m sure it was a terrifying, white-knuckled drive for him. As for us kids? Having water coming in under the doors onto the floorboard was so exciting that we stopped fighting. I don’t know how long it took for us to reach the little burg of Animas, but by the time we got there, the whole town was standing on the railroad tracks watching because our DeSoto was the first vehicle to come that way in over a week. They must have been astonished when two adults, four kids, and a baby clambered out of the car. By the way, my father traded in the DeSoto for a new Plymouth a couple of months later. I suspect the wiring was pretty much done for.
So that’s how I can write about Arizona and make it seem real to my readers. It’s because those places are real to me.
I’ve been there, done that, and got the T-shirt.
I can imagine your father’s white knuckles. Having been in a flash flood I can totally appreciate and was visioning yours by your usual detailed writing. I’m missing it a lot, so maybe I should start my third trip through your books while I await your new novels.
Thank you so much for all you’ve done to entertain my brain.
In 2009, my husband and I took a long RV trip, with Bisbee, AZ on our agenda. As we drove into Arizona from New Mexico, we passed a sign that read Skeleton Canyon. Before then I had read all the Joanna Brady series, so I yelled, “That’s the name of one of J.A. Jance’s books!” I could hardly wait to get to Bisbee to see what else was real! We found an independent bookstore there that had your latest books ready for you to come & sign them the following week. The clerk was able to tell me all I wanted to know about what was real. Unfortunately, we had to be in Tucson & couldn’t hang around to meet you, but seeing Bisbee was one of the highlights of our trip!
And, stories like this is why we love you as a writer.
I do love your descriptions of Arizona – being an Arizona Native and 3 rd so of my family. However it is upsetting when the reader of your audio books mispronounces a local item or place! Drives me nuts!!
Me, too. Chirichahoohhas, Fort Hutcycucchy, sagwaro, Geelah Bend.
As I read this week’s column, I am envisioning the Chiricahua’s as we begin packing our small pop-up camper in preparation for a long awaited camping trip to Bonita Campground. We plan to spend a few days hiking and enjoying the scenery, and I will be thinking about your trip through Skeleton Canyon as we will be out of WIFI and Cell phone range-wondering if the rains are coming! By the way, I am an avid fan of all of your books, having read each one perhaps twice. When I retired in 2020, my first order was to read each book in order and enjoy long afternoons just savoring each set of adventures as I got to know each character.
Wow! Another great Friday blog. Your description of places puts me there, even though I have never been to those particular areas, I feel like I know them. Thanks.
Blessing to you and Bill
The monsoons have started this year . The first one came through yesterday and we are hoping for a very wet season. We have lived in Sierra Vista for 42 years and I have read all of your books. My favorite series of course is the Joanna Brady series. Ali Reynolds is next and then the JPBeaumont series. I have read them all many times and really you are my all time favorite author.
Your blog brought back vivid memories of Ted and me and Redington Pass. We had been on one of our day dates and found ourselves on the road to Redington Pass. We had heard of it and decided to venture further. What an adventure! We were so completely lost, could not find a place to turn around so we looked at each other and decided to press on. We wound up on the other side of Tucson and only by the grace of God found a road home…thanks for the memory as Bob Hope would have said. Made me miss Ted more than ever and made me realize what great times we had together.
I may want to go to the book event. where’s it at ( location & state) Thanks
I may want to go to the book event. where’s it at ( location & state) Thanks
LOVE IT!!! And, although we didn’t have a De Soto, nor did we drive through the infamous desert flooded washes, my Dad did drive a GRAHAM-PAGE…. Yes, that was a car from the 1930’s he was still driving when I was in elementary school in the 1940’s! We drove from Los Angeles north to Dinuba in the San Joaquin Valley to visit relatives one late fall, and to load up with produce from their farm. Of course, there was no “trunk” or storage, so, he built a wooden ramp and attached it to the rear bumper, to hold our produce boxes….all went well. UNTIL we headed home going over the GRAPEVINE (AKA the Ridge Route, Hwy. 99, going south back to LA snd it started snowing. California cars, not built for snow, were stuck, nothing was moving…except, for my Dad’s old Graham-Page.
Seems that heavy laden wooden rack on the rear bumper provided sufficient traction, and we sailed right through, past the newer more modern cars…back to Los Angeles.
Wow! What a great story. I love when you write about your family and childhood. Our youngest grandaughter is in Mesa at ASU. We are hoping to go out to see her in February 2027 for her 21st birthday (providing bad knee is fixed by then). Her parents and older sister will be traveling there from Illinois and Iowa. If we make it we plan on renting a car and driving to Tucson for a few days to visit Judy and Joanna country.
I hope you are keeping some notes on life as a work-at-home caregiver. Many of us are now caregivers, and can relate to each other’s experiences.
Thanks again for your books and for this weekly email.