Uprooted: A New Life in the Arizona Sun

Uprooted will be released December 1st, 2021.

It’s 1972, and seventeen-year-old Linda Strader’s parents do the unthinkable—they move from Syracuse, New York to Prescott, Arizona. At first, Linda is furious and doesn’t want to move. True, life in Syracuse isn’t perfect, but all her friends are there. Then she has a thought: maybe this move won’t be so bad. What if she can make herself into someone new?

Expecting a desert, Linda is surprised to find Prescott surrounded by pine-covered mountains, lush canyons with clear, cold creeks, and best of all, several new friends willing to show it off to her. Her new friends also share her love of music and even provide some romance in her life, although she holds out hope for a boy she had liked in Syracuse who joins the Navy.

When her father begins a new job in Tucson, he moves there until the house in Prescott is sold, taking Linda with him so she can job hunt. She learns about a Forest Service job on Mt. Lemmon and jumps at the chance, realizing the one constant in her life is her love for the outdoors and nature.

In this prequel to Summers of Fire, Linda learns, in her quest for independence, she’s not made for mediocre employment. That fateful move to Prescott sets her off on a career path that not only changes her life forever, but helps open the world of fighting forest fires to women.

READ AN EXCERPT:

Chapter 1

Late summer, 1972

Like a whirling dervish in jeans and a print jersey top, my mom danced around our living room to the song “Arizona” playing over the radio, singing along, swinging her arms, and grinning. I’d never seen her dance before, and she looked ridiculous. While that annoyed me, her joy over packing up our household and moving over two-thousand miles cross-country to Arizona proved more than I could take. I wanted to throw a sofa pillow at her and scream: Stop it! I don’t want to move! My life is here! My friends are here!

I ran into my room and slammed the door. How could they do this to me?

The talk of leaving cold and dreary Syracuse, New York to live in a warm sunny climate had started over a year ago. It now appeared that our family vacation to the west coast last summer had actually been to find the perfect place. After the trip, my mom had opened up the new issue of Look magazine. The “Ten Best Places in the U.S. to Live” article lay open on the kitchen table. I noticed a star next to one of the places. Two weeks later, my mom announced we were moving to Prescott, Arizona.

Moving? I thought. I won’t go!

My parents didn’t say a word about the move for months, making me believe they wouldn’t follow through. After all, I couldn’t go. I’d be starting my senior year soon. Then, on June first, my mom told me our house had been sold.

A twist formed in my stomach. You sold my home! The thought of a stranger taking over my bedroom made me sick. Would they rip off the lovely blue and lavender floral wallpaper my mom and I had picked out? Would the new owners cut down the fragrant lilac bushes I loved? Would they tend my mom’s rock garden, the one we planted with colorful tulips, violets, and hyacinths? Fourteen years of wonderful memories in this house threatened to drown me. This couldn’t be happening.

The first week of August we again headed west, this time to rent a house in Prescott, and for my dad to finalize his new business plans: Prescott’s first ambulance service. My parents and my younger sister, Elaine, looked at rentals. Uninterested, I sat in our camper at the KOA. After three long weeks, we returned to Syracuse to pack and be out of our home by the end of September.

I brooded over leaving my friends behind, and that I couldn’t finish my senior year at Nottingham High School. Elaine didn’t appear to mind; maybe because she would be just starting junior high school. My older sister, Cindy, who was attending nursing school in Albany, would be unaffected. But for me, moving now would be the worst thing ever.

“Why can’t I stay behind and finish school?” I asked my mom, thinking maybe I could stay with my friend Sheri, or my other good friend, Gail. Not that I’d checked with them to see if it would be possible.

“Because you are going with us,” she said, firm.

The next day, my mom walked into my bedroom, and deposited several large boxes. “You need to start packing.”

I glared at her and said nothing. I didn’t want to pack, but after she left, I opened my closet to begin.

Later, she walked in to catch me filling a box with childhood stuffed animals.

“We are not taking old toys, Linda,” she said, her arms crossed.

I clung to Doggie, his music box broken, whose patches of fur resembled a bad case of mange. Near tears, I demanded an explanation. “Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

I knew that tone. She would not change her mind. I unloaded the box, tears now falling, as I handled each precious one. Then I had an idea. I waited until no one was home, and hid every single stuffed animal in moving boxes where they would not be noticed until we unpacked. So there!

As days passed, I accepted my fate. What choice did I have? But I began to wonder: If I lived in a new place, could I turn myself into a new me? Exactly how the ‘Arizona me’ would differ from the ‘New York me,’ I wasn’t sure, but I wished I could be more like my friend, Sheri. She flirted with ease, and had guys falling all over her, including handsome Ben. I wanted what my girlfriends had. I wanted to know and experience the love I saw in their starry-eyes when they were involved with a guy. I wanted to experience the elation, the excitement, the clandestine, romantic moments…everything. But this didn’t seem realistic in my sad world. I always fell for boys who were not only out of my league, but who also didn’t know I existed. Why would they? The current me was nobody special.

Sheri and I would often watch her brother’s track races. At one time I adored her cute long-legged and lean track-star brother, with dark shoulder-length hair, and a spray of freckles across his nose. Out of the blue, Ted had given me his class ring to wear on a chain around my neck, something I’d always dreamed of having and considered a symbol of a serious relationship. But after only two days, I found out that he still had contact with his ex-girlfriend in another town. I gave it back. Next, I fell for his athletic, sandy-haired, bearded friend, who was also a track-star. As usual, though, he had eyes for Sheri. In my junior year I went crazy over the drop-dead gorgeous French exchange student in my English class. I could’ve listened to his sexy accent all day long. No way would I even try to get past the gaggle of ogling girls surrounding him.

Maybe boys would like the new me better.

With three weeks to go until moving day, I attended classes even though I’d never finish anything I started. At lunchtime, as usual, I joined Ben and Sheri. I sat quietly while they talked and laughed, feeling awkward. I wished I could talk to Ben alone, but I could tell Sheri really liked Ben, and I didn’t want to get between them. Once in a while Ben would give me a hug, or ask how it was going, but I figured he was just being polite because I was Sheri’s friend.

Laden down with textbooks and focused on getting to my next class before the bell rang, I turned a corner to see Ben at the other end of the corridor. We both froze and grinned. I set my books on the floor. Drawing our finger ‘weapons,’ we pointed, and ‘shot’ at each other, as though we were in a corny western movie. We dissolved into laughter, and then went on our way. For a brief moment I thought he might be interested in me romantically. But then I reminded myself: Why would he be? Sheri was far more fun, more slender, and prettier, than fat, boring me. That nasty roll of excess weight around my middle embarrassed me, especially in gymnastics, where we wore leotards. But that didn’t stop me from raiding the fridge after team practice, smothering cookies with Reddi Whip—a sugary treat that helped fill the emptiness in my chest.

On an Indian Summer afternoon, a few days before moving, I sat on the school’s lawn waiting for Sheri. She was late, yet again. She knew this drove me nuts. I kept my eyes lowered so I didn’t have to notice classmates ignoring me, picking through the blades of cool, sweetly scented grass, looking for a four-leaf clover. I often did this, believing they could bring me good luck.

A figure threw a shadow across my search area. I raised my head. Instead of Sheri, I was looking into Ben’s eyes through a veil of his shoulder-length blond hair. “Can I join you?” he asked.

Stomach flutters made their way into my throat, rendering me speechless. Instead of saying, “Oh, please do!”—all I could manage was a smile and a nod.

He sat down, cross-legged, resting his arms on his thighs and his eyes on the ground. I studied the attractive sharp features of his face, his long eyelashes fringed against his cheeks, and the braided leather lace tied around his tanned neck.

“What’re you looking for?” Ben asked, glancing up at me.

To my shock and surprise, he reached out and innocently straightened the silver and turquoise necklace I always wore. I could never let anyone else touch it, or me, like that. Hoping that he didn’t notice my hands tremble, I coolly tucked my long hair behind one ear.

“A four-leaf clover. I need all the good luck I can get…” Oh great, now he thinks you are silly, and superstitious.

“Let me help you,” he said. His smile made my heart flip-flop.

Ben lay on his stomach, and began the search. “Found one!”

Grinning, he plucked the clover and placed it in my outstretched palm, touching me ever so slightly, sending tingles up my arm, and making my inner world spin. I placed the clover between the pages of a textbook. Just then, Sheri plopped her books between us and knelt close to Ben, who instantly sat upright, giving her his full attention, turning me invisible. All at once, the idea of moving did not seem quite so bad. I wanted to leave, right away, and abandon my invisible self on the school’s front lawn.

Me, one year before we moved.