I know of a place of magic. It is a place in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona that I have visited many times in our motor home, usually staying for a week or two. It is a magical place where bright stars puncture the blackness of the midnight sky.

Places such as this, where city lights cannot reach to dim the stars to little pinpricks in the sky, are becoming rare. But if you ever travel to the Organ Pipe Natl. Park you can visit this place yourself. And if you time your visit during a New Moon you can also experience a magic midnight sky.

Two years ago my friend Al and I had planned a short day hike in the Organ Pipe Natl. Park. He first wanted to visit a friend in Tucson and then meet me Friday evening at the Park. But I searched for him in vain. His motor home had broken down on the desolate stretch through the desert and his cell phone was dead.

That left me to hike by myself and do a little exploring. Naturally, I was too tired that evening to tackle the long drive back to Yuma. That's when I decided to spend the night at my magical place.

I turned west off the highway just south of a town with the whimsical name of Why. There I followed a track made by motor homes every winter till I located the special spot where Margo and I had always camped. The old gnarled and misshapen tree was still clinging to life and I wondered if our friend, the banded lizard, still made his home here.

I had wolfed down my last two sandwiches and hard boiled eggs and settled in my lawn chair, when I more felt than saw a movement on the tree trunk next to me. It was our old friend,the banded lizard, or maybe his twin brother, eying me suspiciously. It finally decided I meant no harm and went about its business.

It had been an eventful day and I should have been tired; but I was not. I thoroughly enjoyed the solitude of the d esert for some time and then was treated to one of those memorable Arizona sunsets. Night falls quickly at this latitude and I soon found myself staring up at the stars. And as always, my heart beat faster as I greeted my special friend in the sky, the Orion.

During WWII, when we were miles apart, Margo and I communicated via the Orion. I knew that she could feel and hear my thoughts as I did hers. The Orion carried my hopes and wishes to Margo back home, and the Orion brought me Margo's fears, and hopes, and good wishes.

When I came home to Yuma the next day, she told me that she had been in the garden late the evening before, and had talked to the Orion then.

But I knew that. The Orion had already told me.