July 9th, 2008, a Wednesday

It is the dead of summer where I live in the desert.  Two images in that sentence are especially accurate.  "Dead", as in dead heat but not the kind that suggests an absolute tie.  No, I mean heat so oppressive that it slows you to death.  The "desert" stereotype is brown and parched without rain or color.  That isn't really an accurate description of the modern desert environment with its irrigated landscape and swimming pools and misters and air conditioned athletic stadiums.  But without rain, the desert is brown and parched looking.  A good, wet winter brings out the amazing and unexpected color of the desert floor.  We are now past the dry, searing heat of June where the temperatures stayed over 110 degrees for just short of two weeks or whatever.  Now it is a little "cooler" in the lower 100's but with the higher monsoon humidity.  Most people complain more about the stickiness than the "but it's a dry heat" but not me.  In the afternoon you can see the clouds building up and know at least there is a chance of some weather activity in the evening.  On unlucky days it is just wind and dust.  But sometimes there is thunder and lightning and a big downpour which is the most exciting weather in the desert.  It causes inconvenient flooding on streets and sometimes knocks down trees but Mother Nature is like that.  She shows off, sometimes in the worst ways.  But she doesn't mean anything by it.  It's just her nature.

The endurance trial that is the desert summer sets us apart from the rest of the country.  You can drive down the street in the middle of the day and see no one.  And if you do see some poor soul going from place to place on foot, you can't help but say "poor guy, I wonder what he is doing out there".  Can you imagine having that thought about someone actually out of doors in the middle of summer?  Traditional summer elsewhere means picnics, little league, kids playing outside til it gets dark which can be after 9 pm because of daylight savings, parades on the 4th of July, swinging on a tire at the old swimming hole, barbecues in the back yard, and running for cover during an afternoon shower.  If it does get really hot, everyone talks about it constantly, something to endure for a few days or so just until the next system blows in.  Some who have moved here from those other parts of the country would argue "sure it's hot in the summer but isn't it grand when it's 75 degrees and sunny while the rest of the country is shoveling snow....I sure don't miss that".  Maybe so but who doesn't secretly long for a little winter weather and possibly snowfall starting around Thanksgiving and right on through to New Year's.  Sometimes I haven't even needed my jacket by then!  It's hard to catch the Christmas spirit when it is sunny and warm.

This all makes me think about how our environment shapes our view of ourselves and the world.  Desert kids will remember their summer vacation as a lot of swimming (if they have a pool), a lot of video games and computer time, a lot of boredom, a lot of trouble to get into while the parents are at work, and a lot of outings to the movies and other air conditioned locations.  They won't build forts and have the run of the neighborhood on their bikes and go for an ice cream cone.  Their moms won't be baking cookies in the afternoon or telling them not to be late for lunch and sure, it's ok to bring Johnny along for bologna sandwiches.  Yeah, I know, I have now wandered into social issues.  But I'll bet there are more stay at home moms in other places than here.  Small towns in the mid-West or in the South, where the man of the house is still king and wins the bread, provides for the family.  Where it is actually safe for a kid to have the run of the place on a bike.  Where he can ride his bike to practice with his mitt hanging off the handlebars and when he crosses outside the crosswalk, Mrs. Jones says "oh, look at that Johnny Smith on his bike....I will have to tell his mother at bridge club".  I'm all for women's lib and everything.  But gosh, don't we miss our moms.

As for dads, that's another matter.  I saw a movie called "When Did You Last See Your Father".  You wouldn't believe the adult angst this guy had because he never got his father's approval and he was aware of his father's long term infidelity that no one ever talked about.  He knew his mother knew it, too, and it broke his heart.  When his father died, he was devastated and there was this overhead shot of him in the driveway of the family estate in the British countryside, wretching with unresolved emotion.  This man had two kids of his own who were never seen or named in the film, faceless symbols of the next generation of screwed up kids who wondered where dad was when dad was busy actually trying to figure out his own dad issues.  What a mess.  It is essential, once you have kids, to go from being the child to being the parent.  Otherwise the kids don't have a parent.  And everyone really needs at least one good one.  All I can say about this movie is that it was really sappy and emotional and I'm guessing it was the filmmaker's effort to work out his own dad issues and thank God it wasn't made by a woman because she would be crucified for being so indulgent and would probably never work again.  But now I am really digressing.  It's easy to do.  One thing just leads to another.

Anyway, it's damned hot outside.

GR