God Bless Arcadia

If Ward and June Cleaver were Phoenicians, they’d live in Arcadia. Wally would be charming the pants off (not literally, of course) the pretty girls at Arcadia High, and Lumpy, Whitey, and the Beav would be bugging the crap out of the firefighters down at Engine Station No. 1. Meanwhile, the Mayberry gang’s hunkered down at Floyd’s and . . . oops, wrong fake town.

Arcadia, roughly bracketed by Camelback and Thomas roads and 44th and 64th streets, is Phoenix’s upscale equivalent of Maryvale. It’s a mid-20th-century planned development that’s retained much of its mid-century charm by filtering out the future shock experienced by the rest of us. See what we mean at the Arcadia 4th of July Parade, which doesn’t feature fat men with large fezzes riding tricycles – but should. This year’s procession does include a potluck breakfast, the Arcadia Marching Band, the Scottsdale Trombone Choir, mounted cops, and dolled-up conveyances such as wagons, strollers, and golf carts.