64 hours in Silver City

Son and father

Could there be two places in this country more different than Portland, Oregon, and Silver City, New Mexico?

I suppose so, but the pairing of these polar opposites is something that gives me pause to consider what brings joy and fulfillment to my father and me.

I flew into Phoenix Thursday morning, rented a car and hit the road for the five-hour drive to my dad's home in Silver City, roughly 50 miles from the Arizona border in the southwestern corner of the state. Silver City is a retirement community located in the heart of the Old West, with open-pit mines, an historic downtown with a laid-back vibe and clear blue skies soaring above the surrounding Gila National Forest. The town has 10,000 residents (1/3 of Grant County's total population) and it's situated at an altitude of 5,900 feet, something that became quite apparent when I went for an afternoon run on Friday. Whew!

About half the town is of Latino descent and the Spanish, Mexican and Native American influences are seen everywhere -- from food to architecture to street and geographic names. Walmart is the dominant retailer and, as far as I can tell, there is a single two-screen movie theater and a bowling alley. A billboard on the east end of town proclaimed: "Congress...you betrayed us! Now it's personal. Return freedom to America!" Sure enough, Grant County has a thriving tea party -- much to the consternation of my "union man" dad and his progressive/compassionate wife.

And Portland? No value judgments here, just a recitation of the facts. You've got the nation's No. 1 ranked city for mass transit; an ecofriendly hub for young creatives that's become the darling of East Coast media; a cool, damp climate; and an overwhelmingly white and liberal population. Silver City has green chile, tamales and turquoise; Portland has microbrews, coffeehouses and nose rings.

Historic downtown Silver City

While visiting with my dad, Catarino, and stepmother, Oralia, I attended a Thursday night community concert at Western New Mexico University's fine arts theatre; treated them to a foamy  drink at an internet cafe (Javalina Coffee House) on Friday morning; and accompanied them to an American Legion monthly breakfast on Saturday morning, where I met a few veterans (WWII, Vietnam and Iraq) and their wives.

On Saturday afternoon, we took a drive to Bayard, 10 miles to the east, where we toured Fort Bayard National Cemetery, dropped in on an arts and crafts sale to benefit women and girls living along the U.S.-Mexico border; and devoured a delicious Mexican lunch at a hole in the wall. Sunday morning, we met a friend of theirs for breakfast at Vicki's Eatery, a delightful place that serves great eggs benedict and got a recent mention in The New York Times. I said my goodbyes, gassed up and hit the road.

During my two-plus days in town, I transitioned easily into the take-it-easy pace led by my dad, soon to turn 85, and stepmom. They have a view of the mountains from their place and it's quieter than a morgue. They've got comfortable rocking chairs set up in front of the wood stove, which heats the home quite nicely, and their 14-year-old Chihuahua, Mickey, is their constant companion.

My dad is slowing down but still stays active with the American Legion, the Veterans of Foreign Wars, the Knights of Columbus and the League of United Latin American Citizens, also known as LULAC. Oralia, meanwhile, is engaged in a variety of volunteer organizations and humanitarian causes, plus the church choir, and seems to know everybody in town.

Catarino and Oralia

Clearly, my dad and Oralia have embraced the comfort born of small-town familiarity and peace of mind that comes from clean air, quiet nights and a low level of crime. After a lifetime of physical labor, Dad deserves a less stressful lifestyle like this, in the state where he was born. I suspect that Ora, a registered nurse who once worked the emergency rooms in Oakland, California, could be happy just about anywhere. I'm grateful that she's such a resourceful person and a supportive wife.

As relaxing as it is, I could never see myself living there. Too small, too slow, too isolated. I need -- "want" is probably the more accurate term -- more options when it comes to music, movies, food, shopping and things to do, whether it's visiting a bookstore, catching a lecture or a concert. I'll gladly make the trade-off anytime between urban living, with its sometimes unpleasant aspects, and anonymity because Portland provides all the stimulation I need.

Photograph: www.placeeconomics.com