Bask In the Charm of a Bygone Era On Allen Street

In the back of the famous O.K. Corral, a serene stream flows from a water tower in a dusty little desert town that truly has proven itself to be “too tough to die.”

What do you hear when you look at this picture? Anything other than the serene sound of water flowing gently from step to step? I hear cowboy boots and spurs hissing and rattling over the gravel beneath them. I hear gunslingers talkin' slang with Old West accents. I can hear the tings that ring out when they spit big wet ones into empty aluminum cans strewn about for no apparent reason. I can hear ruffled petticoat layers rustling under heavy, bustled dresses that sway in the breeze like great big church tower bells. They move across the same scattered rocks those grungy red-bandana-wearing lawless ones, and polished top-hat-wearing men of the law walk upon. I hear the occasional horses' nay, as their hooves clack along, pulling the weight of wagons and stagecoaches carrying mail, visitors, prisoners, and who knows what else. I hear shouts ring out in the distance, as bets are lost, and fists pound the tables hurling cards and chips to the floor. Over the hot-tempered commotion, I hear shot glasses being slammed on bar tops through wide-open saloon doors. I hear a muttering, staggering straggler swinging a pistol around his finger while his other hand slams back a swig from a flask full of laudanum. I hear the strike of a match against the bottom of a boot heel, followed by the sizzle of the flame meeting a hand-rolled cigarette. Most likely the town's marshal keeping a watchful eye on him.

I begin to hear only the water cascading once again. I don't hear the sound of a shutter click as I press the white circular button on my iPhone – freezing the water and that moment in time forever for me to keep. And then I hear my father's footsteps behind me. I hear him telling me so sincerely, "Wow, great shot! You really take such excellent photos—the composition—you see things I wouldn't see." His words bring a happy tear to my eye, and I feel warm, appreciative, and full of hope. Now, I hear kids giggling, running, falling, obnoxiously kicking the gravel that legendary men once walked on, while visor-and-fanny-pack-wearing parents appear not to notice. I'm suddenly jolted back to present day sights and sounds, but luckily in Tombstone, there's plenty of the somewhat distant past still present enough to make you feel like you're someplace else, in another chapter in time, about 100-some-odd calendars ago.

If the kind of imagery I described above calls to you, check out the movie Tombstone – it's perfect. Or, add it to your next Arizona trip.