The 5 (Five) Cs

Here in Arizona, we don't have many bragging rights.

It's hot, to be sure. But really, is that something to be proud of? We mostly just brag about the heat so outsiders will think we're tough for being able to survive it [though actually, it probably just makes us look a little loco for not getting the hell (and I do mean hell) out of here. That's what smart people would do].

But other than the heat, we are hard-pressed to find something impressive about Arizona. The east coast has its history, the west coast has its sense of cool [which is innate in any region that comes with a beach], and the central states have their giant rolls of string.

So Arizona officials got together...oh...fifty years ago...and decided we needed a little more than a giant hole in the dirt to give us an identity. I can picture it now, how all the greatest Arizonan minds assembled, putting their heads together to revamp the state's image. It must have been a long meeting. Finally, though, they settled on a catchy little motto some of us know as "The Five Cs of Historic Arizona," or simply, "The Five Cs."

Copper. Cotton. Cattle. Citrus. Climate. That's right, friends. The brightest minds of Arizona, and those five Cs were all they could come up with. I think it's somewhat of a cop out, myself. I mean, "climate" was already a given. And "cotton" might be abundant here, but the deep South had staked its claim on this country's cotton long before we ever made it into the union {and honestly, who would want to sleep in sheets of Arizonan Cotton when there's all this Egyptian goodness floating around department stores?}. "Copper"--that might be something to brag about, but I'm not convinced; take me on a tour of a real, live copper mine, and then I'll tell you how I feel. Cattle--seriously? Oh sure, because Arizona is just...hopping with cattle. I see them all the time here, in the middle of all the dirt roads, munching on tumbleweed and palo verde twigs.

Our only real source of pride lies within our citrus--Arizona's one redeeming quality. From germination to the harvest, every aspect of our citrus is a sensory delight. If you've never had a chance to visit Arizona (and I don't really blame you if this is the case,) you should make a concentrated effort to roll through here in mid to late March. You will not regret it. That is when orange blossoms are on the trees, and a drive through town with the windows down will solve any problem you may have. Stub your toe? Smell the orange blossoms. Lose your job? Smell the blossoms. Suicidal? One whiff of those orange blossoms is enough to convince you that life truly is worth living. (On a side note, if you are suicidal, please seriously consider seeking out help. I don't think it's something to joke about. And then, come visit Arizona in the spring. It will probably cheer you up.)

After the springtime blossoms wither, the summer heat ensues and little oranges start their process of whatever it is they have to do. It's not until November or December that they actually ripen, and then...what a prosperous harvest it is. I was well into my teens before I realised that some people actually paid for oranges at the grocery store. Every person in my circle of acquaintance has at least one citrus tree--be it orange, lemon, or grapefruit--on their property. Most have more...

...And we are passionate about it. Tell us you prefer the gritty flavour of Tang™ to freshly squeezed orange juice, and we will lynch you. Tang is only a half-step up from Sunny D™, and nothing could save you from our bad graces if you drink Sunny D™ and like it. Nothing. As far as store-bought orange juice goes, stay away from Topica™--and anything generic. If you want quality, Minute Maid™ will do as a concentrate, but Tropicana™ is really the the only brand Archives of Our Lives can endorse in good conscience.