My love affair with an Arizona town.

Nothing worth seeing in the Arizona city of Williams. That's what I was told. By the guy at the Chamber of Commerce in nearby Sedona. He didn't recommend Williams as a stopping over place on the way to the Grand Canyon. Good thing I didn't take his advice.  I stopped. I stayed. Happy that I did. Turns out, Williams is along old Route 66. At first glance, it appears like a ramshackle place.  Full of old buildings. And old ways. That's by design. Williams' main street looks like a return to the 1940s and 1950s. Maybe even earlier. The same old-fashioned metal and neon signs of a bygone nostalgic era. A reminder of  my youthful days.  In some ways, Williams came across to me as grander than the Grand Canyon. Some  50 miles to the north along Arizona Highway 64. My Italian true love and I spent two nights in Williams. At the Best Western Motel. Recommended by Williams Chamber of Commerce information specialist Reagan Lienhard. The motel was nice. Off the beaten track. In a forest of pine trees. With a country and western band playing on New Year's Eve in the motel's restaurant. The real highlight of our stay was in wandering along the old Route 66 business district. Could have spent a week there. Without being bored. Even better than a week at the Grand Canyon. I really needed more time to savor Williams. Places such as the Red Garter, a nicely combined café, bakery, and curio shop. Had 1940s lighting fixtures. And a tin ceiling.  The last place I expected to find a cup of true Italian espresso macchiato. Which I had with a tasty homemade apple/walnut/raisin strudel roll. My true love bought two Route 66 highway signs.  She also traipsed next store and came away with ear rings handcrafted by Hopi native Americans. Gave me a chance to talk to store proprietor Roger.  Originally from Montana. He likes Williams. But generally flees in the winter to more mild-weathered San Antonio, Texas. Roger detests severely cold weather. He remembers being in Williston, North Dakota, when it was 30 below zero. And never wants to return.  Meanwhile, that Lienhard guy.  At the Williams Chamber's tourist bureau. Wears his first name Reagan on his sleeve. As a badge of honor. In memory of his political hero, President Ronald Reagan. Of course, that means Lienhard and I were at odds. He's a conservative Republican. I'm an unabashed political liberal. But still, we parted on good terms.  After I reminded Lienhard that today's lunatic fringe Republicans would probably consider Reagan a wild-eyed liberal. --Jim Broede