The Desert

When I was young, the desert outside of Riverside looked beautiful but mysterious and unforgiving. Storms would roar through the basins and clean out the entire landscape. Yellow and red wildflowers in bloom framed by the expansive sand dunes and standing radiant against the majestic and ominous San Gorgonio Mountains. Dirt roads splintered off the highway and headed to nowhere in particular. A lone car became nothing more than a dust trail winding its way towards the sea-like horizon. We worked our way towards the canyons. A small stream fed into a rock-lined pond surrounded by date palms. But it was the air; clean, dry, and hot that stuck with you. It was the air of regeneration and rebirth. The breath of God.

Once a year my family would drive to see my cousins in Tucson. It was a major ordeal. We would usually wait until mid-July, when it was cobalt hot, and then we would make the long one-day drive. The preparation was always the same. My dad would wake up at dawn and yell until we would get out of bed. He always acted like a vacation was the hardest thing to do in the world. He would pack. Repack. And finally let my mom put together our suitcases. He would yell at our mother, my sister, and, of course me. Everybody hated each other before we left the driveway.

Once out the door all was forgiven. Its like it never happened. All was forgiven. We'd start the day off drinking White Rock sodas and stopping for "curios" in Cabezon or Needles. Once on the road again my mother would pull out the songbook and we would sing until we tired.

When you're twelve, thirsty, and overcome by the heat you don't notice the scenery. I would sit in the backseat of the non-air-conditioned car while my parents sat in the front chain smoking Raleighs. By the afternoon the closest thing I could get to comfort was hanging my open mouth out the window. Unfortunately, all I caught was a wicked wind/sun burn. When we arrived in Tucson at 7:00 pm the temperature was still over 100 degrees and there was no air conditioning at my aunt and uncle's house. My mom would draw a freezing bath which would only amplify the pain of the Second degree wind/sun burn.

Why did the first settlers decide to stay here and not keep trekking to LaJolla. Big historical oversight.