Tuesday, May 7, 2019

Some Things Never Change



There’s an old saying that goes something like ‘Some Things never Change.’ It’s a cliché that assumes the past will repeat itself, and current events are likely to come around again in the near future. Seasonal visitors to the Coachella Valley often pack this assumption with them as they plan out their winter vacations here. This desert playground and its inherent lifestyle is planned, probable and predictable.  Except this season, it was different for them and for us.

In fact, seasons like routines and the people who follow them do change, evolve, and morph into other experiences given enough time. It happened this season and it started with the weather.

While last year’s winter temperatures averaged about ten degrees warmer than normal, this year’s temps hovered about ten degrees below the norm. The Weather Service blamed it on very active weather patterns. Translated, the jet streams were going crazy and the desert went cold. Granted, one has to be very careful complaining about a daytime temp in the mid-sixties when many other parts of the country are suffering with below zero temperatures and snow cyclones. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the old desert like in years past.




Then on Valentine’s Day, the Coachella Valley experienced three and a half inches of rain in one afternoon. The average rain fall for the entire year is about five inches. There was flooding in all the arroyos and many of the major roadways were impassible.

In addition, there were subtle changes going on all around us. The old thrift stores, long a mecca for deals of every type, had changed their business strategies and approach. They were no longer the bargain bins they once were. There were also fewer estate and garage sales, no real reason why.






Downtown Palm Springs was finally filling in and with it came a new onslaught of tourists and travelers bent on experiencing the Palm Springs lifestyle. There were a couple of disappointing shows at our top-notch venue, the MaCallum Theater.

Like a lot of old friends and acquaintances here, Sharon and I tried to continue our old routine of work and play but it was different this time around. Several seasonal couples had moved on to other pastures and no longer spent winters in the desert. A few older friends had passed away. New relationships had been formed or left to wither away through an absence of communication. The yearlong residents had evolved with the seasons and no longer focused just on ‘the season’ to fill their days and nights. The old pattern of weekly dinner parties, card games and bunco was no longer the order of the day for them.

In past seasons Sharon and I have found our daily routine after a pretty short while here. Sharon used to go swimming almost every day with the other mermaids at a hotel nearby. Now the air temps made swimming a daily challenge for the mermaids. Then their hotel decided not to heat its pool in January and February while it underwent repairs. The water temp dropped to the 50s and the mermaids dropped out, waiting for warmer temps to arrive. It was a long two-month wait.






In years past, Sharon had taken a number of art classes in local venues. Now she found that new ones weren’t being offered. Her garage studio wasn’t much in use since the air temp was often too cold for the paints to dry properly.  Busy schedules and colder temperatures hindered her painting pals from coming over and group painting as they had in seasons past.



I used to sequester myself in my office and work on my ‘novel in progress’ each morning. Afternoons were taken up by working out at the local gym, occasional library visits, Palm Springs Writers Guild critique groups and an assortment of other activities. But even those daily activities had gradually morphed into other daily routines. Writing novels had been replaced with plays and marketing had taken on new prominence with my works.




My first timid tip-toe into local theater was beginning to grow into larger steps in that direction. My writing had expanded to include more complicated plays and screenwriting. There was a sense of urgency to reach out to newer theatrical venues locally and back home.

Script2Stage proved the perfect venue for my newest play ‘Polly’s Amorous Adventures’ and Sharon helped fill the house for both performances. Stage managing there brought new insights into other plays and their tone and structure. It was like a graduate course in playwriting.

Local writing groups seemed stuck in the past and lost some of their relevancy to me. I moved past their stayed agenda as my own list of projects grew. A new writing routine was becoming solidly in place. The season was rushing by.

After numerous distractions, I found myself with only nine weeks left in the desert. Suddenly there were two new plays to write and three more scripts to tighten up. Preparations had begun for my scheduled play ‘The Last Sentinel’ to be performed in Minnesota in August. There were several prospective venues in the Twin Cities to explore for my past plays.

Then the Coachella Valley for next season was starting to look promising. There would be new shows at the McCullum, new hiking trails to explore, newfound friends, and neighbors who were already talking about next season’s events and gatherings.

It’ll be different next time and yet so much will remain the same. More to see. More to do. More to accomplish. It’ll be watching the constantly shifting sands of time while running out the clock on life in the desert.

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Health is Wealth



An interesting thing happened on my well-traveled road to maturity. My collateral, long assumed to be material things and assets, morphed into something far more valuable and priceless. Health became paramount and without it, everything else pales in comparison.

At my age, all the money in the world doesn’t mean a damn thing if you don’t have your health. As wealthy as some folks are, few of them if any, can buy their way back to health once it’s gone.



In retrospect, I’ve been very lucky. I think I’m in fairly good shape simply because I started running early on and never stopped until I was well past 70. After one memorable weekend in the service, I stopped drinking all hard liquor except for a light beer once in a while. I’ve never smoked (OK, weed doesn’t count during my wannabe hippie years), and I’ve maintained my weight pretty well. It wasn’t planned out that way. There were no goals and objectives for a lifetime of trying to stay fit. I just started working and moving about beginning in 7th grade and have kept at it all my life.

I thought about this phenomenon recently after attending yet another funeral. It seems more and more of my friends and acquaintances have experienced recent health issues at this stage in their lives. That and my own aches and pains crawling out of bed each morning brought that issue to mind.

‘Late in life’ issues often prompt a reflective glimpse back in time. The famous Irish poet Oscar Wilde once said, “The final mystery is oneself.” So how does one unravel the mystery of self? It probably can’t happen without self-awareness and self-awareness won’t happen without reflection.

I’m at that point in life where things are starting to happen beyond my control. This old body has been pumping and expanding for seventy-six years. Fortunately its wear and tear has been relatively minimum. For others an excess of ‘living the good life’ is finally starting to show its consequences. For others, it’s the luck of the draw or the flip side of that event. I mentioned that idea in another blog entitled ‘Our Final Tabulation.’


Reflecting back on circumstances or events in one’s life can bring about new insights into your present circumstances. I think reflection is looking inward so one can look back with a broader, more accurate perspective of your current situation in life. Health more than most other events can bring that to the forefront.


As the cliché goes, it’s never too late to begin again. When my Mother and stepfather couldn’t dance anymore at ages ninety and eight-two respectively, they took up cards to strengthen their minds. I didn’t recognize it back then but their actions were a powerful motivator for me to keep pressing on.


Hiking the Garstin Trail each Saturday morning has brought me renewed appreciation for the mountain goats that so often pass me on their trek to the summit. These are weathered old goats who have passed up their country club lifestyle for the more challenging heights of our surrounding mountains.


Assessing what is important at this stage of one’s life really comes down to the basics. Health, family, friendships and life experiences. All the rest is soon to be outdated, worn out, or soon to be replaced by this season’s new trend.

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Back in the Wash


It’s quiet and serene and a great place to get lost inside your head. There’s usually a small muddy creek meandering by. The scrub brush is in full bloom now and nesting birds flitter about endlessly. The stillness there can be deafening with only a few fleeting sounds floating by. All is peaceful until once or twice a year when the rains come and wash that complacency away with astounding fury and force in just a matter of moments.




Then as the left over residue slowly settles into the newly formed crags and crevices, the wash goes back to its dormant life once again.

We experienced that here in the desert not too long ago. A record three and a half inches of rain fell in one day. Contrast that to an average rainfall of five inches for the entire year and one can understand the magnitude of the hard rain pounding on concrete soil.

Before the rains, the wash is alive with horseback riding, mountain biking and hiking.




Horse trails become mountain bike meccas. Hikers wander the wash, meandering back and forth as the rutted grounds give way to dry beds. Arroyos cut in the corners and debris lies crumpled up in distorted jumbled piles randomly deposited everywhere.

Then after the rains, new trails have to be forged on a totally altered landscape.





Fortunately for me, the wash isn’t the only place I’ve found for tranquility and peace in his part of my world. As a fellow hiker commented the other day. “It really is one of the best playground for adults in the world.” I’ve also found a host of other newly discovered venues to get lost in around the Coachella Valley.

My tabernacle on the Lykken Trail

My tabernacle on the Garstin Trail

Coachella Valley Preserve lagoon

Top of the Tram

Garstin Trail

Joshua Tree

Afternoon hike along the wash

They are all magnificent escapes just steps away from my home. Places to meet and greet and at the same time go solitary if I want to. Its heaven’s confessional where I reveal my earthly sins; the good ones, the bad ones and the fun times in-between.