A tale of two creeks

My love affair with Cave Creek began in 1955 when I first toured the place as a boy, where horses were tethered at the rail in front of the Maverick (The Chip) and Harold’s. I knew someday I would live in beautiful, rustic Cave Creek and in 1980 it became a reality. Since that day I have lived and worked in the shadow of Black Mountain gratefully befriended by the rich, the famous, the politician, publisher, business owners and those ever present eccentrics that populate the desert foothills. Could I have been more blessed, I think not. For me Cave Creek will always be the center of the universe, it will always be home, and it has been said that is where the heart is.

The geography is important to be sure, the lush high Sonoran Desert whose smell after a summer rain is nothing short of intoxicating. Black Mountain, green as Ireland in the spring, sunsets beyond compare. But what gives Cave Creek it’s delicous flavor, her history, her culture, her western atmosphere and her people. Those wonderful Creekers. Many of whom I will miss most desparatly and I wish I could take with me or thank each here one by one, but you know who you are and our separation is only 90 miles distance. Like Arnold, I will be back.

It tugs at my heart to leave where my son was born, and he too will forever view Cave Creek as his home. Watching him grow and mature, much as Cave Creek has, was an experience not to be missed. But it is time. My wife and I will move on creating space for others to be charmed by Cave Creek. So, thank you Cave Creek and thank you Don for tolerating and allowing my cynical, sarcastic rantings to appear in these pages over the years. It has kept my blood pressure in check. I will follow local news via the internet and, with your permission, continue to rant.

It is with profound sadness and even a little regret that I depart Cave Creek to embrace the banks of another creek, Granite Creek, in my new home town of Prescott.

Randy Edwards