Having Arrived

William Krisel sketch of a 'Pod House'

Our Indian Canyon Neighborhood has two neighborhood parties a year; one in the fall and another in the spring. It’s a great opportunity for everyone to get together and share local news, gossip, city and community events. Volunteer opportunities abound with the annual Festival of Lights (Christmas) parade and for Modernism Week. It’s a chance for many neighbors to get involved in their community once again during the season. It’s also a chance to see old familiar faces that went north, south, east, and west during the summer months.

For an introverted writer such as me, it’s a wonderful opportunity to observe and make mental notes on some of the diverse, eclectic and fascinating folks who live around here. As accomplished as so many of them are, there doesn’t seem to be any ‘one-upmanship or haughty attitude among the lot. I’ve come to believe that the one common denominator among these folks is their casual attitude toward success. Few if any are trust fund babies. Most have earned their place in the sun. A lot of them are DINKs (duel income, no kids). In short, they’ve’ arrived’ but don’t feel the need to call attention to themselves. I admire that quality in anyone but especially with this group.

When our neighborhood was first planned, it was the city’s southernmost development and considered quite a distance from downtown. Originally built in the late 1960’s, Indian Canyons is comprised of primarily midcentury modern custom homes designed by such noted architects as Dan Palmer, William Krisel, Stan Sackley and others. The first residences were situated around a golf course, now called the Indian Canyons Golf Resort.

Everyone was excited about visiting the party house for this fall. It’s known in architectural circles as the “Pod House.” It’s an original design from the world famous desert architect William Krisel. The house consists of a series of octagonal forms clustered together. It’s been remodeled several times and has been updated but still manages to stay true to its original desert form and function.

These neighborhood parties are a casual affair in dress, demeanor and conversation. No one is trying to impress. A few of the uninitiated who come with that ‘I’ve arrived attitude’ very quickly realize there is always someone else with a bigger house, more exotic collection of cars, better beach house, mountain chalet or condo in the Big Apple.

Success comes in many shapes and forms. L.A. is notorious for its A-lister parties where perceived success is everything. There, in the smog bowl, people feel the need to show their success through their opulent homes, a herd of vintage cars in the driveway or art pieces on the walls. Other folks wear their success through implied or real power and influence. Fortunately, few of those A-lister types show up at our parties.

Instead there seems to be a common pattern among the folks here in the desert to downplay their success. They’d much rather go about their business in a very subtle way and not call attention to themselves. I like to play the speck on the wall observing all the goings-on and making mental notes for future novels, plays, etc.

Sharon loves to mix and mingle with the crowd. There’s usually a parcel of good-looking, sharply dressed dapper young men all schooled in the fine arts of food, fashion and architecture. And every one of them safe. Sharon, of course, is in her element; working the room like a scene right out of ‘Hello, Dolly.’

There’s always someone new to meet and usually they come with an interesting story to share. For example, at one of our first parties I met a new neighbor of mine. Turns out, he is the chief pilot and head mechanic for Disney. The mouse has six corporate jets hangered in Burbank and they circle the globe on a daily basis. The first time I met him at the fall party he had just flown in from Paris and was in Dubai before that. Another neighbor was in ‘the movie business’ in the sixties and seventies. “I was in most of those awful B-movie biker films, playing sidekick to the chief villain,” He told me with a laugh. “Usually I got bumped off by the end of the movie.” Now he acts and directs in local theater productions in his retirement.

Sharon met a fellow artist whose work graces galleries on Rodeo Drive and New York. They like to huddle in the corner and talk ‘art talk’ most of the night. Another non-descript individual is a big L.A. developer.

I’ve always told my kids not to brag about themselves. ‘Let others talk about you,’ I’ve coached them, ‘they will probably embellish what they say. If you said the same thing, it would sound like bragging. If they talk about you, it sounds better than it probably is.’

I believe you show people who you are by your actions, not your words. Talk is cheap. Actions are seen and believed. My neighbors seem to abide by that rule. Nice bunch of folks.

Camp Followers

The note slipped out of their Christmas card.  “We’re going to be in Palm Springs in February. Would love to see you.” Translation: How about a free lunch and pool time when we’re in town. The code talkers were back.

Like the ten thousand pound elephant in the room, it’s a subject talked about in hushed tones and only among the closest of friends.  Every season it’s debated and pondered among full and part-time residents. What to do with those visiting guests who don’t seem to get it?

It’s like the holy grail of Catholic guilt.  For some outsiders it must seem like a curious con-fluence of rich people complaining about having company, being ungrateful for their good luck and showing little empathy for folks who can’t escape winter themselves. For the insiders it’s a realistic appraisal of individuals who don’t quite understand the art of ‘being an appreciative guest.’

Mind you, this does not include most folks who visit the desert.  Nor is it all the time. In fact most of our visitors understand and appreciate the unwritten rules of etiquette for guests. Those folks don’t have to be looked after, ‘baby-sat’ or catered to. They’re self-sufficient and appreciative of being invited here in the first place.

The problem, really my problem as my wife likes to point out, is that I’m an ISTJ and my wife is an ENFJ.  She loves entertaining, chooses not to see inequities in having company staying with us and is reticent to judge others for their lack of appreciative behavior. Me, not so much!

Desert living is a special treat especially in the middle of winter.  For both residents and guests alike it is a welcome respite from the harsh reality of winter back home. Most of us understand and embrace our great fortune to be able to live in desert if for only a short period of time.

Truth be told I’ve worked hard to get to this place in my life.  So I only want to share it with select individuals who appreciate the good fortune of clear blue skies, warm weather in January, and starlight overhead with just a hint of chill in the air.

If one were to gather together a group of folks who live here part-time or full-time, they could probably come up with a list of criteria for what it takes to make for a pleasant guest experience in the desert.

These are the unwritten rules understood by most travelers.  They’re the common sense approach to living in someone’s home for any period.

1.      First and foremost, remember that you are the one on vacation not the folks who live here.  In fact, this is a disruption of their normal routine. That’s OK because they’ve welcomed you into their home but it is a fact. You’re the one on vacation…they’re not.

2.      This is not a hotel, a B&B, a hostel, a boutique motel or tent city. This is their home and as such guests need to respect it and treat it as if they were living in your own home and not a hotel where it’s acceptable to leave their stuff all over the place…and expect others to pick up after them.

3.      This is not a week of hosted entertainment or conversely a week of lying around doing nothing because that’s their vision of a vacation. Your hosts are not inn-keepers or maids or the chauffer. If guests want to tour the town they should have their own car to do so.

One of the cultural benefits of living in this desert environment is the plethora of parties thrown on an almost weekly basis.  Interestingly enough the same principles apply when accepting an invitation to a party. And again, most folks get it while a few still don’t.

A few folks feel it is acceptable to collect any leftover liquor they brought to the party.  The idea of reciprocating for being invited to someone else’s house is an unknown equation to them. They come and partake but never reciprocate. Most are pleased to have been invited and show their gratitude in a variety of ways. Yet there are always a few who just come and drink then leave and wonder when their next invitation will arrive in the mail.

A close friend of my wife had an interested analogy that I hadn’t thought of before.  He and his wife are incredibly hard working folks who understand and appreciate where every penny comes from and where it goes. They were delighted to be invited to visit us last winter.

They turned out to be gracious guests, appreciative of their surroundings and quick to show their appreciation in a variety of ways.  The husband surprised me with his observation of the money they saved by staying with us verses staying in a Palm Springs hotel as a regular visitor. I was astounded.

Average costs for a week spent in Palm Springs during ‘the season.’

Hotel room (7 days)     1750.00

Rental car                       750.00

Three meals a day        1050.00

Sight-seeing tours          250.00

Estimated costs:          3800.00

A few ways that guests can show their appreciation borders on just plain common sense. It would be nice to pay for a few meals when dining out with your hosts. It doesn’t hurt to pay for gas if long trips are incurred. A thoughtful gift for the host is a sure sign of appreciation.

And my favorite pet peeve…if you like to use the television set as background noise in the morning, make sure that’s acceptable to your host who might prefer a quiet wake-up period instead. Remember you’re the one visiting and a return invitation isn’t always a guaranteed thing.

So there I’ve said it. Those who get it don’t need to hear this. Those who don’t probably wouldn’t get it anyway.

Such is life.

Docent for a Day

Docent: College teacher or lecturer.

Well, that didn’t quite describe our role when we were hosting a home tour in our neighborhood as a part of Modernism Week here in Palm Springs.

 

Modernism Week is a signature event held every February in Palm Springs. It attracts thousands of modern architecture lovers from all over the country and the world. There are a host of events to showcase and highlight the very best of modernism designs and trends. There are art fairs, a modernism yard sale, vintage car show, lectures and films on historical Palm Springs architecture, as well as many events at the convention center. Every year one of the highlights of the event are the neighborhood home tours.

Beginning in the mid-40s, architects originated a design movement specific to the greater Palm Springs area. It became known as Desert Modern. Their buildings featured ground-breaking techniques such as post-and-beam supports, floor-to-ceiling glass walls and a wide array of colors to match the surrounding mountains and desert. Now famous architects such as William Krisel, E. Stewart Williams, Albert Frey, William F. Cody, Richard Neutra and Donald Wexler were among the masters of this design.

For the first time this year, our neighborhood was included in the home tours. Sharon and I volunteered to be docents at one of the homes. It was a great opportunity to meet more of our neighbors and peek in on the lives of the design-conscious, artsy-types who created these one-of-a-kind homes.

It was fascinating to see what had been done to these retro houses and how the other half lives. Most of the homes were owned by interior designers…no surprise there. Each was a designer’s delight. Stunning is not too strong a word to describe some of those settings.

Here are some examples of the homes on the tour:

We were docents at a home designed by William ‘Bill’ Krisel in the Kings Point complex of condominium homes. It was one of the last projects designed by Bill Krisel in the late 6o’s. Our home featured an open floor plan highlighted by clerestory windows, original terrazzo floors and walls of glass which extended the living area to an outdoor patio and pool.

The homeowners divided their time between Los Angeles and Palm Springs. Like so many of our other neighbors (The CommonClass) these folks were friendly, gracious and welcoming of the curious picture-taking hordes descending on their home for the tour. It was fun to watch the expression of the visitors when they first stepped inside this designers heaven.

 
 

Near the end of our tour duties, a little old lady approached me.  Her grandmotherly attire and slow gait assured me of a simple question I could probably answer.

Little old lady:            “Excuse me, young man.” (I love her already)

Myself:                        “Yes, Ma’am. How may I help?”

Little old lady:            “I have one question.”

Myself:                        “I’ll certainly try to help. What is your question?” (Of course I’m imaging                                     ‘How big is this house?’ ‘Do they have children?’ ‘What does something                                      like this cost?’

Little old lady:            “Well, I’ve been to all of the homes on this tour. But something bothered                                      me about everyplace I’ve been.”

Myself:                        “What was it that bothered you?”

Little old lady:            “Where do they put all their crap!”

Myself:                        speechless

Little old lady:            Every home is perfect. There’s not one thing out of place. They’re                                     spotless.

                                    Do people really live like that around here?

Myself:                        “Ma’am. I’m guessing if you were to look in their closets and drawers                                     they’ve probably stuffed them full of ‘stuff’ they didn’t want out in the                                     open.”

Little old lady:            “Oh, thank you. That makes me feel better. I can’t imagine anyone could                                     live in such a perfect home.”

Myself:                       “No Ma’am. None of us are perfect even these home owners.”

I wanted to assure her that while clean and tidy is nice, this level of perfection is pure Modernism Week. The rest of us live like ordinary people.

But as Sharon is quick to attest: “Thanks heavens Denis has an office where he can hide his ‘stuff’ and I just close the door.”