Don’t talk to strangers. This is, of course, the first thing that you are taught not to do and it’s probably the only early lesson that I paid attention to and took to heart. As a result of this I have occasionally being accused of being a moody bastard, because as I got older I have become been a little reticent about stepping outside my comfort zone when it comes to social situations where I don’t know anyone. If I find someone interesting, I’ll probably spend the evening talking to them, rather than attempting to chat to everyone. Don’t get me wrong, I can work the room in a business environment when there’s a need for it, but if there isn’t a specific reason for me to be sociable, I’m probably not going to be overly so.
This reticence has been noted and remarked upon by certain members of my family, so I do occasionally try to prove them wrong; usually when I’m on holiday and no one knows me, but that’s when it comes back to bite me.
I had really relaxed and stepped outside of my comfort zone by the time we got to the desert. Mrs. Jerry was attending an ‘Up with People’ reunion just outside of Tucson. It had been 35 years since she had seen some of the people there but with the wonders of social media, they’d mostly kept in touch. She’d been out to see them a couple of times in years since her original tour, but this was the first time we’d been invited to go along. The luxurious JW Marriott resort had around 750 rooms, all full of over excited alumni. The volume in the bars was like being on a runway at an air show, because when Americans are happy, bless them; they like you to know it.
The none too shabby pool area at sunrise
The resort really was surrounded by the desert.
There was no chance hiding away here and it was lucky that the over excited ones were so lovely. So much so that Ms. Jerry Junior drank the Kool aid and signed up for next years intake of the non affiliated community organisation that sings and dances its way around the world. She’s way more sociable than I am and she sang her way through the wee hours with Mrs. Jerry and her cast mates. I generally drank Gin and smiled a lot. Or was it drank a lot of Gin and smiled? I can’t quite remember.
I also wandered off into the desert in the early hours of each morning before it became inhumanely hot and anyone else got up. Clearly you expect to see Cacti in a desert, but as a kid, I only saw the miniature versions that you could buy from shopping centres in the UK on Mothers day. Some of these bad boys were over 6 metres tall and the Sonorus Cactus doesn’t even grow ‘arms’ until they are around 60 years old.
This one looks like a surrendering Pingu (in my overactive imagination…)
This is a ‘Teddy Bear’ Cactus. Some nut cases think they look soft and fluffy. Believe me, they aren’t.
A Barrel cactus. Just about to flower. They aren’t cuddly either.
In terms of wildlife, there are Lizards galore in the desert and although I didn’t see a live one (there was a 4 mm tall one spread out on the road), there are Gila monsters and Rattlesnakes around as well, according to the signs around the resort. I also saw a Tarantula whilst taking the kids for a nighttime stroll around the walking trails.
Not poisonous, but they’ll give you a painful bite apparently.
People do live quite comfortably out in the desert in Tucson, as evidenced by some of the luxurious pads near the resort. In the past, settlers did build their ranches out in the valleys and used them as hunting lodges (there are mule deer around, although I’m not sure how they find water) and some people lived for many years with the heat of the desert day and the cold of the night. I found one ruined hacienda on a walking trail, that had been built from the local stone.
You’d really need a good fire on some nights out here.
At the end of the week there was a big show with members of various casts dating back to the 60’s performing some of the songs from their years tour. I loved it and actually wished that I was a bit more musical. I can see why Mrs. Jerry had such a good time and why our daughter got the bug and auditioned. I also really enjoyed being out in the desert and although it wasn’t exactly the desert of Lawrence, it was fascinating and I could have spent days exploring. Hopefully I’ll get back there one day.
The next stage of the holiday was Lake Tahoe. Our lovely friends had arranged a hotel for us right on the edge of the lake. We were two families intent on partying as much as our sometimes embarrassed kids would allow us to and Tahoe is a good place for it. We had been before, when there was snow on the ground and enjoyed the fantastic ski runs, I’d even been cross-country skiing with Jerry Junior, who is now in his mid 20’s, in a back pack. This time however, there was no snow. Well, actually there was, but it was right on top of the mountains that ringed the lake.
Someone else’s snap of Emerald bay, just around the corner from where we stayed.
Most of the days were spent swimming and paddling around the lake and the evenings were spent partying. It turns out that Marijuana is legal in this state and obviously the folks in the apartment below us had purchased a large amount for the holidays. Every evening they blazed up a doobie and we sat on the balcony above deeply tolerating their fragrant second-hand smoke.
Which incidentally, went down well with the sunset.
One morning, feeling slightly jaded, we walked across the road to a diner for breakfast. I resolved that this would be another day where I would step outside my comfort zone and that I’d talk to strangers again.
I made eye contact and said “good morning” to a young man carrying a garbage bag who was walking toward me. He turned on his heel and fell in alongside me saying “My name is Anthony, do you know the bible is coming true?” I ignored the sniggers of my family behind me and looking at the bag in his hand, which as this was the US, no doubt contained a firearm of some sort. I resisted the temptation to come back with a smart answer and instead introduced myself. He held out his hand to shake and all of a sudden I noticed that he had rubber gloves on and that there was a strong smell of bin juice. He’d obviously been dumpster diving in between delivering parables from the bible and was prowling the streets in search of converts for whatever cult he belonged to. Oh, how the others laughed…
The next morning I was crossing at the same junction holding the blonde and leggy Ms. Jerry Jnr’s hand when a familiar voice yelled out “IS THAT YOUR DAUGHTER? THE BOOK OF LUKE SAYS THAT THE WAGES OF…” – not really wanting to hear all about the wages of sin from Anthony, but being very, very tempted to point out that the quote was actually from ‘Romans’ I just waved and accelerated away. The family and our friends just about lost it. Serves me right for talking to strangers…
