“Every person that crosses is a person headed toward safety.”

—Sister Angelica “Lika” Macias

I’m writing this on the last day of March, Women’s History month, and this is my last day in the Southwest, too. It hasn’t been all bread and roses. I woke to several inches of snow in Silver City, New Mexico; we had torrential rains, thunder, and lightning in Tucson; in Oracle, Arizona it seems like many of my friends have lost their teeth; and a dear long-time friend of mine died on Big Island while I’ve been here. Life goes on apace.

But one thing is sure, it appears there’s always a silver lining. The rain and snow meant that on my way back from Silver to Tucson, the hills were blanketed in a riot of wild flowers, and the top of the ranges were dusted in white. (My southwest friends said, “Take you’re camera, you won’t see this again soon.” …Ah, I had to gently remind them, we can see snow-covered peaks every day in the PNW!)

All my hands-in-the-dirt friends are thrilled about more rain than usual this soon in the season — everyone’s garden is springing into action. And though friends are dying, grand babies are also being born. There’s a balance to it I suppose.

Green Valley

So all in all, on this Easter Sunday, I am grateful for my health, my resources (both emotional and financial), and my amazing friends. I got to spend some time with three of them this weekend. Many of you will remember Tony and Betsy Pfannestiel who in June of 2023 moved from Surfside to Green Valley, Arizona, just south of Tucson. It seemed so sudden, so what-were-they-thinking?

Well, Marla McGrew (wife of generational Peninsulite Gary McGrew) and I drove down to visit the Pfannestiels yesterday to get the scoop on their move. Tony had texted me earlier, “Can’t believe we are living in the Sonoran Desert. Never have been so happy!!!” I have to admit I’ve scoffed at these gated retirement communities that seem to proliferate in the wide-open desert spaces in Arizona. So I was interested in querying these two to find out what made it all so magical.

Marla — we’re part-time neighbors in Tucson — picked me up and we drove down to spend the afternoon with the Pfannestiels. But there was another errand in the mix too (and more about that in a moment). Driving up to Tony and Betsy’s house I was skeptical — beautifully landscaped yards, spankingly tended sidewalks — all I saw were a bunch of big glamorous houses scrunched together.

Then we saw a poetry box(!) and the minute we were ushered into their home, I began to change my mind. We sat on the patio out back where Betsy and Tony have an unencumbered view of the desert to the west — and, of course, glorious sunsets. Their house is perched on the edge of a wash, so a slight breeze provides a theatre for ravens, cactus wrens, and thrushes to glide and bob in the wind. Tony has done some clearing of brush, and groups of quail wandered through the grasses. On the east side of the patio they have a spectacular view of the Santa Rita Mountains. “I visit with Saint Rita every day,” said Tony. “She inspires me. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to live here.” Saint Rita is the patroness of impossible causes. It seems to fit for the Pfannestiels on several fronts.

First: how did they find this spot, or did it find them? (Somehow they went from moss-between-the-toes to javelinas!) And second: Saint Rita is also known for her support of women trapped in abusive situations. So back to our topic at hand, women doing good for women needing help.

Immigrants in Nogales

Marla is as upbeat as they come. I always enjoy talking with her because her quick wit and get-it-done attitude is a tonic in these dark times. It seems at night while she’s watching TV she’s always knitting, beautiful multi-colored wool beanies. “I can make one hat a night,” she says. “I get all my yarn from JoAnns’s — it’s not that expensive. I learned how to knit in third grade — we had a teacher who let us girls knit during recess.” But what to do with these wonderful hats?

Aha, back to Betsy. Since her move to Green Valley, Betsy has been looking for her heart work, for a way to serve. She found it in the person and project of Sister Lika Macias, the director of La Casa de la Misericordia y de Todas las Naciones in Nogales, Mexico (tinyurl.com/325v6s3m). Betsy and a couple other friends drive to Nogales every week to assist with the immigrants who are sheltering with Sister Lika. “They are mostly from Central American so when they get to Nogales they are really cold!!” says Betsy. “I mentioned this to Marla one time and she talked about her hats. So now I bring them hats whenever I get a batch from Marla.” On our visit this past weekend, Marla brought two boxes — about 40 handmade hats — all in lively rainbow colors.

Despite all the misrepresentation in the media from certain people about immigrants coming to our country, most of the families, mothers and children, Betsy has spoken with have places to go. “They have family in Chicago, Minnesota, or other states. They just need a little help getting there while they wait for asylum. They can rest at Sister Lika’s until they figure things out.”

It might be noted here that immigrant populations are one of the bedrocks of American success. Many immigrants are doing difficult dangerous work that other citizens don’t want to do — like patching the potholes on the Frances Scott Key Bridge in the middle of a cold dark night, for instance. Especially as our population ages, America needs these young enthusiastic workers to boost our economy and contribute to the social services pot that supports us old folks and the old folks to come.

What can I do?

As Betsy says, “Until I found Sister Lika, I kept thinking what can I do? — all the problems are so big. At the same time, I can still do my little piece.” And Marla adds, “Yes, that’s what I think with my hats — it’s so cold for these families trying to find a better life.”

So, here’s my homily. You don’t have to be a Mother Teresa — though thank goodness for her and for the Sister Lika’s of the world who’ve given their lives to others. Just find one simple thing you can do to help someone else. Knit a hat! Talk to a family member who’s traveled across a continent to come to our country. And, when you can, if you can be kind about it, dislodge the wrong-headed thinking that is corrupting the media about our immigrant population.

My family has Irish roots. At some point my ancestors traveled across the big water to come and work here. Betsy’s family is from Ukraine. Tony’s family is 100% German. Marla is half German, half Norwegian. We’re all Heinz 57s, and we’ve turned out alright.

Anyway, Tony and Betsy are as happy as clams — er, maybe cactus wrens — in their new digs. Despite, as Tony said, “Yes it was 115 this past summer. When it got to 105, I stopped riding my bike…” OK, the sunny Southwest may not be for everyone. But it seems more and more Peninsula snowbirds are wanting some sun in the winter. And if you can combine that — as Betsy and Marla have — with projects that help others find their own happiness and wellbeing, more power to you.

You can make a difference in people’s lives no mater where you are. The important thing is to do it!