This weekend I flew to Arizona and buried my dad's ashes near Bisbee, AZ.  The morning of the memorial/burial, I headed out for a 4 mile run.  It was 5:30am, the sun was just coming over the mountains and it was about 65 degrees.  Beautiful!  As I started out, I noticed a policeman on the side of the road, standing over about 8 people who were sitting on the ground....Mexicans, I guess.  It was border patrol.  I picked up my pace a bit and continued my run down Naco highway toward the border of Mexico.  Soon, I heard a car coming, then another, and another.  It was truck loads of Mexicans being escorted back to Mexico.

As I continued down Naco Highway I soon came upon an abandoned car on the side of the road, just as a gentleman was pulling up to retrieve something from inside it.  I crossed the road to keep my distance and continued to run.  After the gentleman got what he needed, he pulled right up to me.  With a slur to his words, and an air about his speech that reeked of alcohol....he offered me a ride back to Bisbee.  (A military man perhaps?....he had that clean cut, big muscle look about him.)  I thanked him kindly, while keeping my distance, and ran on.  What a strange day this was turning into.

Later in the day, I buried my dad's ashes.  My dad was a practical joker.  He would have found my morning quite amusing.