Palm Trees and Indians
Wednesday, October 14, 2009 at 07:13AM I miss the boys. Nothing makes you miss your little guys like spending too much time with big people. It’s not that these grown ups are bad, but no one enjoys the little things like Quin and Otto. Maybe at this conference someone will prove me wrong by dropping to the floor to follow a bug. I’d join them. I’d start it but daddy needs to keep from scaring the big people, some of whom are responsible for paying him.
I was in the pool today and all I could think of is how much Quin would enjoy the water. I imagined finding some Mrs. Doubtfire-type person on Craigslist to travel with the kids and me. Ooh, I just thought of Richard Pryor, the original “Toy”. But he’s dead. This way Sarah could have some alone time and get some work done and I’d have at least one of the kids. It would be awesome. I still need to present a plan to make this viable. And when I say “plan” I mean Sarah would want something more than these flimsy Powerpoints flickered into oblivion. I’d need documentation, blood samples, Skype cameras, a minute-by-minute itinerary, one of my fingers and proof I can consistently get all the right stuff in the diaper bag.
I’ve got Miami coming up in December. That might be the test trip. Right now I’m in Palms Springs, CA. It’s in the desert outside of LA, and it’s home to the world’s prettiest older people. It’s like Cocoon with implants. I saw a dude yesterday morning who looked like a freakish science project. If you’ve traveled by air over the past year you’ve no doubt seen that airline magazine ad with the guy with the seventy-year-old head and the twenty-year-old body. It’s some kind of scientific breakthrough that should have college girls frightened for their lives. This guy was that guy. He was Jimmy Stewart above the neck and all Lou Ferigno below. It was creepy, and the grandkids might cry a lot, but it’s what a guy has to do when his female peers have their face lifted to their forehead and their breasts around their chin. That may not sound sexy, but curiosity alone will have guys of all ages interested in feeling around.
With the wind blasted mountains to the west, and the sandstone desert stretching out east, the city has ordained that everything must look like it was stolen from Mesa Verde. The buildings aren’t ugly, but they’re far from inspiring. They’re flattened and square, and even the fanciest building still looks like an information center at a national park.
My job here is to interview tribal members about their issues today and their hopes for the future. Today, for example, I spoke with Shelton, a third-generation farmer from the Gila River tribe. He’s pretty optimistic about his people. He and I ate barley together, which took me about three hours to finally swallow. It’s a little like grainy gravel until it’s had a while to soak somewhere. Also, however, I interviewed Adam Beach, the actor from Windtalkers and Flags of our Fathers. He’s a little ticked about the older generations dropping the ball. But if you read his story you can understand why.
What have I come away with? Not much new, other than we’re pretty much all the same. We all want a little attention, even if it’s just to spurn it. We like love, dig food, are still not sure what other people think, but certain that Americans need to exercise more. So that makes it easy.
Tomorrow the Indian guy from the Village People is going to perform. I didn’t even know he was a real Indian. But I guess by now the construction worker is probably doing real construction. Maybe I could get the cop to baby sit.
and some more assistance...
