Arizona has such a special place in my heart.
I was talking with those--
with the honors students earlier.
A student asked, wasn't that hard bouncing from place
to place to place?
And also I should mention these were mental health
institutions.
So every four years my family had to move to another location
and usually these were not in the greatest places, which
made for an interesting childhood to say, oh--
some of them we lived on the grounds
of a mental institution.
So that was not awesome when I'd have
to tell people where I lived and where they made a bus stop just
for us.
And it said welcome to the--
Gowanda Psychiatric Facility.
But I will say that my parents, no matter
how much they worked, no matter how much they worked,
they always made it a point for us to be outside.
And specifically here in Arizona, my dad
was always, always working.
But on the weekends, he'd be sure to take us up
to Camelback Mountain or to Superstition Mountain.
And we would know the names of minerals,
and rocks, and chuparosa, ocotillo.
I could identify basically the night sky.
And you didn't have to go that far away
back in the day in Phoenix.
Now you'd probably have to drive a long ways away.
But in third grade I could tell most
of the constellations in the sky,
so I never truly felt lonesome because I always
had names for things no matter where I was in the country.
This is kind of an apology to my father for sometimes
not always appreciating what he was doing until much later.
And this is called "Mosquitoes."
And it took place in Glendale here.
"Mosquitoes."
When my father wanted to point out
galaxies, or Andromeda, or the Seven Sisters,
I would complain of the huzz of mosquitoes
or of the yawning moon quiet and that slow summer air.
All I wanted was to go inside into our cooled house and watch
TV or paint my nails.
What does a 15-year-old girl know of patience?
What did I know of the steady turn of whole moon
valleys cresting into focus.
Standing there in our driveway with him,
I smacked my legs, my arms, and my face
while I waited for him to find whatever pinhole of light
he wanted me to see.
At night, when I washed my face, I'd find bursts of blood
and dried bodies slapped into my skin.
I'd complain at breakfast about how I can't do this anymore,
dad.
I have more homework now, dad.
I can't go to school with bites all over my face now, dad.
And now-- now I hardly ever say no.
He has plans to go stargazing with his grandsons
and for once I do not protest.
He has plans.
I know one day he won't ask me, I
know one day he won't be there to show
me the rings of Saturn glowing gold through the eyepiece.
He won't be there to show me how the moons of Jupiter
jump if you catch them on a clear night.
I know one day I will look up into the night sky searching,
searching.
I know the mosquitoes will still have their way with me
and I know my father won't hear me complain.
[APPLAUSE]
I had forgotten-- I know here many
of the researchers from the Cassini mission
are here from Arizona.
So as I was seeing that, oh, Saturn--
I'm-- I did not plan that.
I did not plan that.