Best Season Ever

The long-revered Palm Springs winter season has gone by the wayside. The pandemic put a nail into the plethora of activities and gatherings that usually occurred each season. But even before that, the ‘usual winter season’ was changing. Twelve years ago, when Sharon and I first began coming out to the desert, it was always ‘4:00 in the afternoon’ someplace and outdoor activities kept us mixing and mingling most days.

It's been a slow recovery after COVID for a lot of folks; us included. This season was one of the rainiest, coldest and windiest seasons we’ve ever experienced here. We did a lot less entertaining. I’ve spent little time hiking mountain trails and even less time bike riding and swimming. Health issues prevented us from going to Florida for Sharon’s brother’s wedding reception in February.  On the other hand, we were so lucky to have the kids out here on several occasions.

Family and friends gathered here to celebrate my newest play ‘Widow’s Waltz’ which was performed last November.

Both families came out for Christmas. Several months later, Brian, Melanie and I celebrated my 80^th birthday with a spectacular road trip down the PSH from San Francisco to San Diego.

Then in April, Melanie and family came out here to celebrate spring break. So, the social part of our time spent in the desert was a mixed bag; family time was great, seeing lots of friends, not so much. Now on the flip side of that altered season, in terms of writing, it was a veritable bonanza. It was the most prolific writing season I’ve ever experienced.

When I began my new writing career, I had no idea where it would lead me. My first two books proved a very satisfying experience. I was off to the races and learning the craft of writing.

Then I experimented with playwriting. That also proved a worthwhile endeavor. So much so, that I’ve written eighteen plays thus far and have had five of them produced both in Minnesota and California.

Fast-forward almost fifteen years and my writing desk is overflowing with projects. It includes novels, novella’s, plays, children’s stories, blogs, poetry, screen-writing, a comic strip and still-stumbling songwriting. My writing is like a pinball bouncing off of one genre to the next.

After premiering ‘Widow’s Waltz’ in California last fall, I wrote a second play dealing with local issues relevant to the desert, some very complex characters and several intriguing plotlines all situated down ‘By the Salton Sea.’

‘Broken Down Palace’ is a new book of my poetry which will be published in the near future. I have over thirty photographs which my editor has stylized to add another layer of mystery to the poems.

A second book in the ‘Waleed, the Skinny Hippo’ children’s series has been written. The theme is ‘being afraid’ and I hope to have it illustrated soon. ‘Sweet Pea & the Gang’ has proven to be a real challenge. It needs to find an audience before it can advance.

‘Playground for the Devil’ is my latest novel which has been placed in several book stores with limited success. It needs better marketing and more hustle on my part. Juggling writing with marketing has always been a tough road for me to travel.

‘Agnes; Memories of First Love’ is my first novella on the Amazon Vella platform. Feedback has been very positive but it hasn’t broken through the other novellas piling up there yet.

Three of my plays, written during the pandemic, are still searching for the right venue to be performed. ‘Tangled Roots,’ ‘PTV’ and ‘Wake; the Musical’ all need musical accompaniment and more fine-tuning before they’re ready for the stage.

‘Frenchy’s Eats,’ was a very special play for me to write. It is a personal narrative of my parents' back story and my early childhood and its repercussions on me and my family today.

‘Habitat for Humility,’ is a new movie script in development. The storyline deals with a mutual attraction between a divorcee and the proverbial shooting star who has just crashed into reality. There is simmering sexual tension, conflicting class status, a jealous boyfriend, an abusive ex-husband and a scheming but well-intentioned sister. Writing the screenplay will be a piece of cake compared to the complexity I will have to face navigating the world of movie-making – if – it comes to that.

So overall, I’ve got enough on my plate to keep me writing and editing for a very long time. And the ideas keep bouncing around inside my head. Like I said, it was the worst of times but, boy, was it the best of times too.

Palaces for the People

I’ve often rambled on about the ‘old men in the coffee shop.’ Unfortunately, or not, I have categorized them as a group of individuals who seldom listen, often interrupt and usually talk about their world in disparaging ways. This is not my kind of salon in any sense of the word. But if they’re happy with their verbal pursuits, all the more power to them.

These informal gathering spots are usually organic in nature. The shop opens, customers discover its relaxed atmosphere and friends are made and reinforced each week. It might be at a coffee shop, a bookstore, the Guitar Center, a nearby gym, or other gathering spots for like-minded individuals. Turns out, those old men at the coffee shop may be really into something. Their gathering around the coffee urn is a rather microscopic way of talking about social infrastructures.

A book called ‘Palaces for the People’ defines social Infrastructure’ as any place where civic engagement and social interaction take place. This includes public institutions like libraries, schools, playgrounds, parks and athletic fields. On a more personal level it could include coffee shops, street corners, courtyards, community gardens, and other green spaces.

Liquid refreshments are often at the core of other countries ‘third places and social infrastructure. The Germans have their beer halls. The French have their cafes. The Japanese have their izakaya’s and karaoke bars. Robust social infrastructure doesn’t just encourage social exchange, it can contribute to economic growth.

New York City has its High Line in lower Manhattan. The Beltline in Atlanta, Georgia is developing slowly but will ultimately repurpose a twenty-two-mile rail corridor circling the city into thirty-three miles of trails, as well as a string of parks, public artworks, and affordable housing projects.

Back in the 50s and 60s, the Twin Cities had its own version of social infrastructure around the University of Minnesota. Dinkytown and the West Bank were havens for the disenfranchised, disconnected and slumming students looking for a taste of ‘real life.’

Gathering spots around Dinkytown like the Ten O’Clock Scholar, the Purple Onion and The Extempore hosted a wide swath of students, Folkies and the mildly curious. The West Bank took it down a notch with dive bars, rooming houses and the holy grail of the bohemian mindset; the Triangle Bar.

My perch from which to explore this flip side of young adulthood was a rundown tired mansion on University Avenue. It had long since been turned into a rooming house / apartment building with dwelling units (if you could call them that) carved out of once posh showcase housing.

My history at the Triangle Bar was documented in one of my first novels ‘Love in the A Shau.’ The activities, discussions, schooner beer ventures and tokin' among friends all took place there for my protagonist Daniel and myself.

I was going through my ‘wanna be a hippie’ stage at that point in my life. Working two jobs, I found in the Triangle Bar, Art Theaters and writing poetry at night, a respite from the confusion still plaguing my wondering / wandering mindset. At this stage in my life, I no long have the Triangle Bar but I’ve got something just as good and more age-appropriate. My ‘third place’ has morphed into what I call my coffee and chat sessions.

The ‘third place’ is a setting beyond home and work; a place where people relax in good company and do so on a regular basis. Its origination is usually organic in nature, impromptu and unplanned. Folks start to talk to one another; thoughts and ideas are exchanged and those conversations morph into a pleasant experience for all the participants.

Now I’ve moved beyond that to my own third place and I’m loving it.  My third place began at Dunn Brothers but has now moved to my back porch, park settings, lake fronts, park shelters, etc. COVID-19 was the catalyst for this change. When meeting indoors was risky, I decided to test the outdoors instead. I’ve never looked back.

My Coffee and Chat sessions have grown over the last couple of years into something very special for me and my participants. My age group, especially among men, often times have limited resources for the kind of cerebral salon I find so inviting. There are just some subjects that men are more comfortable discussing among their peers even more so than with family and casual friends. The conversations can be deep, shallow, personal, impersonal, irrelevant, stupid, silly, crude, gross and ‘you were talking about what?..... but always engaging. And that’s the whole idea, an environment where folks can talk to intimates and never have to apologize for the subject matter.

Different folks, different backgrounds, different perspectives. We’ve managed to avoid talking about politics unless our views are in close alignment. Even then I’d rather talk about something fun, enjoyable, stimulating, thought-provoking or satisfying.

My friend, Bob, in California, loves to talk about his current writing projects and me about mine. We’ve found that our sharing critiques are really helpful in bringing a fresh perspective to any current project of ours. My friends back home bring a plethora of similar life experiences to our vernacular mix.

It may have taken me a lifetime to find pleasure and great value in cerebral discourse and exchange but I’ve got it now…and it’s a hoot.

Learning to Appreciate

I once knew a girl who taught me a wonderful life lesson. I can’t remember her name, how we met or how long we dated. The only thing I remember about her is that she claimed she slept in the nude (not the life lesson I’m talking about here) and that she loved to walk in the rain.

She converted me from grumbling about the damn rain to actually enjoying the visceral experience of raindrops falling on my face, puddles to walk around and the sound of raindrops crashing on leaves. We would walk around some local lake and find a place, under a tree, to hunker down and feel the summer breeze on our faces, listen to the warm water lapping on the shoreline and just enjoy the mutual experience.

It was a great example of enjoying our surroundings without having to make reservations, prepayment, reserved seating or any crowds around us. It was there. It was free for the feeling. All we had to do was enjoy our surroundings.

Not that long ago, I rediscovered this joy of my surroundings that I had neglected for so long. It began with my secret garden in my side yard. Then morphed to the wonderful panoramic mountain views in my backyard and finally the scope of desert wash, distant mountains and clouds dancing across the sky on my daily walks. All free viewing at no charge, no expense and twenty-four hours a day.

Summertime in Minnesota brings out the best of our mulch garden. My ‘coffee and chat’ sessions take me to wonderful beachfront panoramic views of a local lake. Bike rides take me along the Mississippi River and peaceful spots to rest along the inlets there. But appreciation can take other forms too.

Last year, I self-published my 12th and latest novel entitled ‘Playground for the Devil.’ As I always do, I sent copies to family members and included several friends who I thought would appreciate the book. Writing the book had been a long and arduous task but I was proud of the outcome and especially the storyline I had created.

I wasn’t expecting a bouquet of flowers for my gesture. A simple ‘thank you’ would have sufficed. I got two acknowledgments. My wife wasn’t particularly surprised. The kids knew the book was coming and so did some of those friends.’ It wasn’t unexpected’, she said, ‘so they probably thought ‘oh, thanks’ to themselves and that was that.’ It was a good life lesson for me.

Instead of being disappointed because I didn’t get universal acclaim, I wish I had been able to see that I’ve been gifted with the ability to tell stories quite easily in any number of different formats and genres and I get to share those stories with others I care for. I shouldn’t expect to be thanked for every gesture of kindness I make. I’m working on that simple fact now.

Aiding me in that examination of gratitude and appreciation was a new book I just read called: ‘Social Intelligence.’ One of the gems hidden among the pages was this recognition of life around us and how to embrace it; without any price tag, social status or recognition.

Now I will be the first to tell anyone that I am hardly qualified to talk about gratitude and appreciation. While I accept that this is a lame-ass retreat from responsibility, I can only fall back on the ‘excuse’ that I wasn’t raised that way. My mother was a lifelong survivor of her German heritage and Catholic upbringing. Self-reliance was built into her DNA and asking for help was something she rarely if ever did (and only then) under great duress. I think her attitude about gratitude was “they know I appreciate what they’ve done,’ I don’t have to tell them.”

Unfortunately, I picked up a lot of those same selfish traits and brought them to our marriage. Sharon’s gestures of appreciation at first confused, amused and befuddled me. ‘Where was the ROI or recognition for her gesture of kindness; I certainly didn’t see it coming back to her in spades.

But gradually over the years, I’ve come to realize that wasn’t the point. If it was the right thing to do, then expecting recognition was only a nice added benefit. While it hurt not to be recognized as a kind gesture, the gesture itself should be satisfaction enough…because it was the right thing to do. Hard lesson to learn for someone like myself.

As a society, I think we’ve become more self-absorbed and unaware of kind gestures on the part of others. Often times, I have to remind myself that the simple act of showing gratitude and appreciation really isn’t a monumental task to tackle. A simple ‘thank you’ to the clerk or attendant or server doesn’t hurt or diminish your own stature.

While I’m not a card-sender or note-writer like my wife, I do try to make the effort when it’s called for. It doesn’t hurt and actually feels pretty good on the inside. Taking time to (forgive me here) ‘smell the roses’ is a wonderful way to thank yourself for the life you lead and the ability to see any and all treasures all around your daily life. Taking in the beauty of our surroundings costs nothing and the ROI (return on investment) is priceless.