One Man's Paradise

I'm always interested in people's varied tastes. Not only in food but in cultural things. I'm heading out tomorrow for three days deep in the Sonoran desert and I find the area I'm heading for to be absolutely beautiful. I don't consider all desert as beautiful, drive to Tucson and you'll see what I mean. But some of it can be outstanding. I've had many an easterner tell me how ugly they found our desert to be. Eye of the beholder. In the high heat of the day sometimes the desert is imposing and drab, but at sunrise and sunset it becomes just mystical. The mountains acquire a glowing purple cast and the skies are magnificent. I've experienced sunsets all over and very few match Arizona's.

I do notice that the older I get, the less I have in common with popular culture. Judd Aptow is a very rich guy having made his money writing and directing movie comedies. Unfortunately for me, they don't make me laugh. Especially the ones about young geeks doing stupid things. I was that age once and it wasn't funny. It was usually painful. Something about scatological humor and body part humor is, to me, almost sad. I'm wondering how talented you really are if you can't find a laugh in this very funny world without resorting to scraping the bottom. A young girl puts male sperm in her hair thinking it's hair gel. Oh boy, that's a knee slapper. One thing I do admire about my kids is that they laugh readily. And, they can find the humor in off beat TV shows which usually leads me to watch the show. Sometimes they lead me to a gem. Their latest discovery is "It's always sunny in Philadelphia". I've got it recording and look forward to seeing it.

I'm off to the desert, I should be back at the keyboard on Monday. I''ll leave you with this;

"What is comedy? Comedy is the art of making people laugh without making them puke!"
Steve Martin

Position open: Mountain Goat and Snake Wrangler

Sometimes, on rare occasions, I am called into duty to leave the safety and sanctity of my little desk and am forced into the field to assist those capable guys we call Applicators. My expertise does not include applicating so I am usually relegated to pulling hoses and washing flagstone. Most of you know we have a weed control company and this requires spraying a liquid material on all places where the customer does not want weeds to grow. If it gets on something we don't want it on, such as flagstone (it has a temporary color), it has to be immediately washed off. That's my job. Sometimes we get a doozy of a job. Today was one of those days.

Go to Paradise Valley, into one of the most exclusive gated communities, follow the guards instructions and drive the winding road to the very top of the mountain. Sometimes I think that intelligence can be calculated by the amount of money a person has. The more they have the dumber they are. Well, that's not exactly right. It's the amount of money a person has and what they will spend it on. This was a six thousand plus square foot house perched into the side of the mountain. Many parts of it hanging out into space. One of our problems was that it was surrounded by an acre of tile that had been shipped from Italy specifically for this house. When I first saw this tile I thought it had been damaged as it had deep white scratches in it. Then I noticed that they all had deep white scratches in them. I wondered what it cost to ship damaged tile from Italy. Then I wondered why the customer didn't just buy some undamaged tile right here. I've lots of friends with tile. Thank God none of theirs is damaged.

We had to spray the mountain side around the house, down the steep mountain side on either side of the road well before and well past the house. This was no mean feat. Standing halfway down the mountain side, holding the hose I looked out at a beautiful view of Paradise Valley and as I slipped and slid in the mountain shale I looked at the house and wondered if the view was worth spending 6 million dollars to precariously perch the house on a really butt ugly scrub desert and nasty shale mountain. The property manager said this job kept her hopping because the house kept shifting. Huh! Shifting? Really?

And, what do you do with the kids? Junior go out back and play. Try not to fall 600 feet down the mountain again, honey.

And, there was a huge rattlesnake sunning himself on the narrow walkway at the side of the house that went straight down. And, I'm talking huge. Huge! No, really! Huge! Coiled and blocking the way. Unfortunately my friend John was leading the way. John doesn't like snakes. Saying John doesn't like snakes is like saying the surface of the sun is slightly warm. I'm not sure the human larynx was designed to emit the sound that came from John.

I know that Jesus walked on water, but my friend John must be able to walk on thin air. How else did he get around me. There was no room. And yet before I could react he was up the path and backing toward the street making a strange, agonizing sound. I didn't know until today that snakes could laugh.

Oh, Sweet October

As a Phoenician don't you just love October. Finally after what seems to be a year and a half the heat begins to abate and the evenings cool down to absolutely delightful temperatures. I know it is still warm during the day but the end of agonizing heat is nigh.

I've just spent a wonderful few days at the cabin in Illinois. It was cool and wet mostly with just enough good weather to coat the roof and of course, catch some fish. We bet one dollar on the first fish, one dollar on the most fish and one dollar on the biggest fish. Cindy Bennett won first and most but Charlie and Carol claim to have caught the biggest. You note that I say "claim". They are their only witness and had no evidence to support such a claim. Oh, the one that got away!

"The only time a woman can really change a man is when he is a baby!"
Natalie Wood

Okay, girls imagine this. You and some of your good friends are going to a spa. To be really pampered with massages and facials and all that wonderful hand and foot treatments. Then lay around a beautiful pool snacking on wonderful tidbits with a really cold glass of crisp white wine. Isn't that a wonderful image?

Well, us guys are going to quail camp. Quail season opens Friday morning and all us he-men are packing our creature comforts and our camp tents and cots and are traveling out into the unfettered desert to spend a few days chasing those little cute creatures and blowing them to kingdom come. Ah, yes. We are going to men's spa. Now don't think we're going out their just to hunt those elusive little dickens. We're going out there for the exact reason you would go to that spa with your buddies. There will be relaxation, fine drink and copious B.S. around the camp fire to compliment the succulent cuisine we bring with us. Oh, the joy to scratch and spit at will. If Will comes this year.

If it weren't for the last minute, nothing would get done.

I wonder if we are the only family that seems to continuously try to cram 10 pounds into 5 pound bags? It seems that the hurrieder I go the behinder I get. We are going to beautiful Mara's wedding tonight and Carol is helping Cindy Bennett with the flowers. Cindy is a wonderment with flowers and probably was up at 2am to start putting things together. But, if things are normal I can guarantee the last flower will be in place just seconds before Mara comes down the aisle. Unfortunately Mara's father is in the hospital and won't be able to walk her down the aisle and that is a terrible pity. Speaking from experience, there isn't much better than having your daughter on your arm as you make that life altering walk together. We wish him well and pray for a speedy recovery.

Being the father of the bride is an unusual position. Except for the act of reaching for your wallet the father really doesn't have much of a role. For you guys out there with daughters coming to that age let me give you a glimpse. You have spent your daughters life with her listening to every word, every piece of wisdom, every admonishment. Well, that stuff is over. Save yourself some frustration, don't offer any opinions on the wedding. Don't suggest where it should be held, don't suggest who should be in it, don't suggest how many to invite, don't suggest how to do the reception, the rehearsal dinner or the bachelorette party, and Lords knows don't say anything about which dress for her to wear except to say, "You look just beautiful!" Your opinion is just not wanted. I know that sounds harsh, but it is true. This wedding belongs in the hands of your daughter and her Mother.

My friend Charlie said it best. He said, "Being the father of the bride is like being the caboose on a runaway train!"

Good luck to all you future fathers of the bride and don't say I didn't warn you.

Oh Fabjous Vacation!!

Don't you just love getting ready to go on vacation? I believe the days preceding the actual trip are just as filled with anticipation and joyful expectation as the actual thing itself. Carol and I with friends Charlie and Cindy are heading for the cabin on Monday. We have a great little place on a most beautiful lake in south central Illinois. Pana Lake, the place of peace and the actual catching of fish. Not just fishing. Fishing is looking for, hoping for, waiting for a fish. Catching is actually getting the little buggers. My buddy Jed says he gets bored fishing. Come to Pana buddy, you won't get bored.

I like to call our place the "Lake House". Or, when I really want to impress "The Lake Property". Carol is a pragmatic farm girl, she calls it the "trailer". No matter, I love it. There are times when I can't sleep and stressful thoughts of business fill my head and I toss and turn. Then I turn my mind to the cabin. (There, that's a good compromise). We had a screened in deck built on the back. It's about 12x20 and we furnish it with comfy deck furniture. I think about sitting there, a cool breeze flowing through, the screen keeping all the pesky Illinois bugs away, and looking out across our green and peaceful cove. The wind moves the surface of the water a little causing gentle ripples and once in a while a small circle appears where a fish has surfaced to snack on a white fly. You listen to the wind in the trees and troubles melt away. Once in a while it may even start to sprinkle. One of those light refreshing rains that cleanses everything and makes all the green greener and everything new. And, I look down at our boat dock and I think about taking a rod down and trying my luck under the overhanging branches of the trees that line our side of the cove. But cooler heads prevail and I decide to light a cigar, fix a cocktail and sit and enjoy God's gift for a while.

For a view of the lake from the deck go to my website, samleejackson.com and look at my painting "Jessie Rows". That is what I look at from my perch on the deck. Excuse me, I know I'm early but I have to go pack now.

Man Rules!

A friend of mine gave me a book of man rules compiled by Esquire Magazine. I expected funny, what I didn't expect was how close to basic truths they would become. My friend immediately pointed out rule #250, "There is no shame in well-done steak!". My friend likes his meat mutilated and burned beyond the capabilities of the CSI team. This is one rule I just can't go with. My good and lovely friend, forgo the steak and eat the charcoal.

Here are some that speak truth:

Rule #247

People who fish are very unlike people that don't fish.

If the Apocalypse comes in my lifetime. If the flag goes up and civilization is doomed, I want the people who fish with me. Meet at my house, bring your gear.

Rule #293 (For all you teenagers and twenty somethings)

Before getting any sort of tattoo, devote a few minutes thought to figure how it will look on your saggy, wrinkled, puckered flesh in the nursing home. Don't scare the great grandchildren! (I added that part).

Rule #291

This for you all that travel together. "On any road trip, he who is driving gets control of the radio. No exceptions." Almost no exceptions. Anyone fascinated with Celine Dion or Barry Manilow are exempted.

And this last one for today. For you fellas out there;

Rule # 302 (In our circle of friends with so many babies coming so fast and furious, this rule could save a valued friendship.)

"The correct description for any photograph of someones else's baby is 'Adorable!'. Have this word ready to go before the photograph is shown, so that, even if the baby is shockingly ugly, you can utter 'Adorable!' without hesitation.

Of course this doesn't apply to any of our new babies.

Okay, one more;

Rule #274

"Pliant people are, more often than not, smarter than stubborn people."

Rule #275 (Here comes the rub)

"But stubborn people are always more effective."

Watch the 24 hour cable news cycle. Those stubborn people are loud!

The Sundown Corral

I am really excited that my website, samleejackson.com has been updated and one of my novels is being uploaded. If you wish to access it you can do so from this blog. I've written five different novels and three of these are westerns and looking at the title above you might think The Sundown Corral is a western also. You would be wrong. It does take place in the west, right here in Phoenix, but the time is 1980. When Phoenix was not yet the big glass and concrete sprawling wall of noise it has become. Back then it was still an almost sleepy big cowtown. Everyone was friendly and down to earth. We had no high rises on Camelback, no sports team except the Suns, no massive housing developments and for me, no worries.

This is my Steinbeck novel. John Steinbeck (Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden) was the best at capturing the real people. The regular folk. The ones that really inhabit the world.

I worked a very short time as a bartender at a little bar on 32nd Street named the Sundown Corral. I used it as a backdrop for my story. I was fascinated by the sub culture of bar people. Fascinated at how the neighborhood bar was as much a part of their lives as church is to my Christian friends. Many of the characters are based on real folks. The Old Man, Diane, Butch, Duane, Chicago George, John the Painter and many others actually existed but not necessarily in the form I created for them. The physical description of Jack and Cassy was based on real people but their circumstances are purely fiction. The description of the Corral is accurate. The description of the "Rodeo" is accurate. Doc Goldman is retired and living in Michigan teaching Junior College Math. Many of the bars are still there though some have changed names.

However, this is not a story about a bar. It is a story of redemption, a story of reconciliation, and mostly a coming of age story of a young man searching for the father he never had and finding so very much more.

Tina has the first four chapters up and I like this segmented uploading as it allows someone to read a little at a time. Take a few minutes from the day and go to another world. A world that in my memory was a lot simpler and a lot sweeter than today. I suppose that is the way of all memories.

If you like it let me know. Either post a comment on this blog or e-mail me at sjackson25@cox.net If you don't like it, be kind.