I love local history.
Not just my local, but anyone's local. Local history is its own beast, and isn't just different because it doesn't focus our attention on the rich, famous, or globally powerful, this is something that has to be researched differently than almost anything else.
I'll write up something on that sometime, but for now I'm satisfied pointing out one can't typically just Google and get a satisfying picture of a place through time. So I keep an eye out for those infrequent gem-like books that are specific to the place I'm in or curious about.
I found this one by JoAnn F Hatch in that bookstore I loved in Showlow.
It’s a pleasant and engaging read. It feels like an informal conversation. There's some repeats, some rambles, and an openness about what is or isn't known for sure. And as I read, I remembered all those sensations of vacationing in the White Mountains when I was growing up. The way you have to watch your step even in wooded areas because cactus low to the ground would make a mess of your sneakers and end a hike instantly. The crisp cold in the fall before the sun melts all the snow and the smell of a cold mountain vs a hot one. It was fresh in my mind.
The author mentions the stories were gathered for a different project, and I respect that. I enjoyed the collection, however it came to be.
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