It’s been four years since I’ve gone out with Alvaro on a Tuesday. Life took me in some strange directions in that time, and I’m finally free enough to spend an entire Tuesday following this guy and his cadre of folks who venture out with him each week. This day just happens to be his birthday.

We started the day in Tucson, and I smirk when I see this mural. This has been the header of my Tucson Mural Database project for months, but somehow I’ve never seen it in person. Jerry Peek and I are getting together soon to make some headway on that project… oh so many projects.

We drive out to an area that has been washed out for weeks. This is the fourth try - fording the water in an attempt to place new crosses. Storms are brewing on the horizon, and it becomes clear that even if we get there, we may not make it back today. We stop for more snacks.

We drive up to a border patrol checkpoint, head north into the muddy expanse beyond a cattle gate. Ah yes, the large expanses and oh so many cattle gates. Gate-guy gets out, lets us through, and closes the gate behind us. Ever dutiful - soaking wet and quite muddy after this.

We park. We wander. We discover. There, a stick stands thin against the darkening sky. There’s a rumble in the distance, and we know that in no time flat, there will be a torrent of rainfall. P and I find some rocks to hammer the cross member into place. 5 hearty bangs and she’s back together. He freshens her up with a new rosary and a prayer. Camera shutters snap.

Alvaro and I wander back to the trucks, and we talk about Cozumel, Merida, and Isla Mujeres. We look up, and the crew starts singing. It’s his birthday, and someone brought a cake. It’s so bright and cheery, particularly sweet when taken in its context - we’re all muddy, and the sky is breaking open, it’s 10 am and dark. The thunder rolls just overhead and the rain… oh does it start to rain.

We make it to a gas station where we eat our slices under the canopy above the pumps. Just the kind of weird, solemn, but very celebratory kind of thing I like to do on a Tuesday.

We head back to our parking lot. Two new acquaintances from the day discuss their next adventure - a talk on the Management of Undocumented Border Crosser Remains. They ask me if I know Dr. Hess. I do not.

They don’t have a ride, though: one here from out of town working on a journalistic photo project, and a New Yorker who doesn’t have a license. I offer to drive them, and off we go, to the Pima County Medical Examiner’s Office.

Dr. Hess talks for far longer than I expected. I saw a lot more photos of dead bodies than I expected. The room had far more people than I expected. Today: a weird one.

This talk is available regularly - I suggest you drop in sometime.

I’m always surprised by the random mix of characters who show up for this Tuesday jaunt with Alvaro. It’s always a surprise where we go. ‘Tis beautifully sad; mournful work. And people keep showing up.

Alvaro makes the crosses, several a week. And off the group goes to plant them in the ground. Next week there will be more.

Happy birthday, Alvaro. You mentioned this is your 13th year of this… thirteen years, thousands of crosses, and as you said… you’ll never catch up. See you next week, friend.