I grew up in the little town of Palm Springs, nestled into the base of Mt. San Jacinto. The mountain looms over almost every childhood memory I have; my house and my schools were all within a mile or two of it and there were few places in town that were not dominated by its sheer size and presence. It remains a powerful emotional reminder of who I was when I lived in its shadow; a touchstone, a memory, a symbol.
This is not a foothill; not a gradual slope. Mt. San Jacinto rises almost vertically up from the flat desert floor, 10,834 feet of rough, rocky terrain. It dominates the flat, low-slung town below it. When I was a child, it had a powerful physical effect on my everyday life - the mountain protected us from storms and controlled the daylight. On many of the perfect sunny days of my childhood, I would look up and see the clouds behind the mountain, held at bay by its height and mass. It might be raining to the west, but we had clear skies and warm sun. In the late afternoons, the sun would drop behind the mountain and its shadow would gradually spread across town, stretching ever eastward. Dusk always hit the houses at the base of the mountain first because of this shadow - days were shorter there. I always thought that it was as if the mountain were embracing us, pulling us close in the gathering dusk. I don't think that it is a coincidence that the temple I grew up in eventually rebuilt its synagogue to face the mountain. Over the torah, there are now windows that fill with the sight of the mountain. Even in God's own house, the mountain dominates and inspires awe.
The mountain affected people as well. If you were to plot a map of wealth distribution in the Palm Springs area when I was young, it would have been an almost perfect progression. The wealthiest people lived the closest to the mountain - the fanciest neighborhoods were up against its base. At the far end of the valley, incomes were much lower and the mountain more distant. Wealth bought you proximity to that sheltering, overwhelming, monolith. People wanted to be as close as they could be.
You can take a tram car up to the top of Mt. San Jacinto, or pretty close to it, and look down on the city. I remember the thrill of childhood trips to the top - from there, you could see how small everything really was. It was like getting a unbiased view of your own life; a dispassionate understanding of the size of your own problems and influence. It was humbling and inspiring at the same time. I always felt a huge sense of relief - the problems of the real world were so far away up there. I was always slightly disconcerted, at the same time, without the mountain looking down on me. Space seemed bigger, the world more empty. It was always a relief to come down again, too.
As an adult, I moved far away from my childhood home. I gradually forgot about the mountain, about its presence, until I didn't even miss it. The demands of life - work, marriage, children - distracted me. I got used to the foothills that Angelinos call the Santa Monica Mountains, and then grew accustomed to the gray cloudy flatness of London. The mountain was still there, intellectually speaking, but it held no real pull for me. I was busy; it was distant; there were places to go and things to see. I drifted.
I moved back to the Coachella Valley this year, after having been gone for 27 years. This time, I moved to one of the towns down valley, farther away from Mt. San Jacinto but still under its control. The view of the mountain here is better, and it is easier to see the beauty and complexity of the mountain, but at the same time it is farther away; less immediate. It is gorgeous, but not overwhelming. It is the difference between my child's view of the world, my child's understanding of God, and my adult perceptions. That all-encompassing feeling of being part of the mountain is not here, but I am better able to appreciate its unique spectacle.
On Sundays when I drive my children to my childhood temple, though, so that they can experience the mountain and God at once, I know that the feeling has not left me entirely. For a few moments after I drop them off, I always stand outside and look up at San Jacinto and feel like a child again. I marvel as the years fall away and the wonder and magic of childhood makes a brief appearance. I am different in Palm Springs than I am anywhere else, more myself; more heart and less mind. I am in the presence of the mountain.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Monday, April 26, 2010
Fantasy vs. Reality
Allow me to share my most frequent fantasy. Put aside the pity that it's not about living a glamorous life, not about sex, not even about travel. No, it's about my ideal home.
I picture a small perfect house. No clutter - nothing on the countertops, sparse shelves, organized drawers and closets. I have what I need, but no more. It's clean (so easy when there's no clutter!) and neat (a place for everything and everything in its place). As heretical as it seems for the daughter/granddaughter of art dealers, even the walls are clear. Maybe one painting, situated where I can sit and really appreciate it. One or two beautiful things on the shelves, things that I can appreciate because they're not competing for my attention with 20 other knick-knacks.
In my ideal house, there is seating for the number of people living in it, exactly the right number of plates, spoons, cups for our family to have one meal, a few days' worth of clothes (that all fit and are in good shape), only the books that we are in the middle of reading. We could pack up all of our personal stuff and fit it in the back of the car - furniture excepted. I would get rid of most of the furniture, too - when you don't have so much stuff, you don't need so much furniture to hold it. Goodbye bookshelves, storage cabinets, coffee tables, and dressers! Goodbye dusting and polishing them, too.
To some people, this sounds cold. To me, it sounds peaceful. Right now, though, it's a complete fantasy. Like pornography for the clutter-obsessed.
Right now, there are at least 10 books in the middle of being read in my kitchen alone. Also a baseball uniform belt, a car made of legos, a frisbee and a metal water bottle. There are games and puzzles scattered across the dining room table. Mementos from our travels dot the landscape of our living room (along with blankets from yesterday's movie date with the kids, cast-off shoes, and, oddly, a single Polly Pockets dress, slightly chewed). Let's not even enter the kids' rooms - at least without shoes on. Those legos are sharp! The bookshelves are overflowing and I'm scared to open the cabinets at the end of the hallway because avalanches have been known to happen there. There are dirty clothes hiding in places I haven't even thought to look.
I could probably get my fantasy house right now by yelling at my family about every discarded sock, nagging at my husband about making the bed, and following behind my children picking up every last thing. I do many of these things from time to time, much to my chagrin. It's not worth the trade-off, though. Because in the end, I know that I'll have my dream of peace one day - just not in the near future. Right now, I need to embrace the chaos that comes with having three young children, a dog, a busy life, and way too much of everything. I need to recognize that much of the clutter is a sign of an active, engaged, enthusiastic family - and that I'll miss those legos one day too soon.
Those cabinets at the end of the hallway, though -- they're about to meet their match!
Monday, February 9, 2009
25 Random Things
A Facebook meme, but I'm short on blog posts, so here you go!
Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you.
1. I can't understand how I'm such a girly-girl when it comes to romantic comedies, ridiculous fruity drinks, and the need to talk everything to death, yet I completely missed the genes that make women like shoes and purses and care about fashion.
2. I learned to play the flute by playing while listening to every single game of the 1981 Dodgers season. I was never very talented, but I played for 3 hours a day, so I got good at it.
3. When I had just one child, I was a really good mom - consistent, patient, fair. Now that I have three, there are times when I just can't fight the chaos!
4. I hate writing. Anything. Especially checks ;)
5. I'm horrible with accents. After 6 years of living in London, I still can't imitate an English accent (any of them) at all. Don't ask me, please - it's humiliating!
6. My husband makes me laugh, even after almost 18 years, even when I'm mad at him. Don't tell him though - it'll go to his head!
7. I loathe shopping of all kinds - are there really people who do this for fun?
8. For a "greenie", I have an absolute love of technology. I adore my iPod, my Kindle, audiobooks, podcasts, tivo, and anything new and exciting.
9. I'm totally addicted to a Pogo game called Crazy Cakes. You make pretend baked goods for elves, dwarves, and wizards and deliver them via fairy. Yes, I know it's silly - but I'm counting on you to be kind and forgive me my weaknesses.
10. I'm pretty sure that my devotion to the Dodgers is as close as I've ever come to true religious faith.
11. I harbor a secret mistrust of people who like cats better than dogs. Since some of my best friends are "cat people", I've had to work past it and love them anyway.
12. I can fall asleep anywhere, at any time. Really.
13. I've never had a crush on an actor - but don't get me started on musicians!
14. I love sushi, but hate chopsticks. I was so happy the day I found an article that said that it's acceptable to eat sushi with your hands. If it's on the internet, it must be true, right? I choose to believe.
15. My favorite concert ever was The Kinks at the LA Sports Arena in 1985. Everyone knew all the words to every song, and we all sang along. I've been in awe of Ray Davies ever since.
16. I firmly believe that you should never mix sweet sauces with meat. No sweet and sour chicken, no orange duck, no barbeque sauce. It's just wrong.
17. I loved being pregnant, despite all of the complications and worries.
18. The only cliche I've ever really believed in is "bloom where you're planted." It reminds me to make the best of a new situation, and adjust to new places and people without self-pity. You know, play the cards you're dealt. Oops - there's another one!
19. I laugh every time I think about the movie This Is Spinal Tap.
20. I tried being a vegetarian for about 6 months in 1996, but since I dislike vegetables, it was a debacle. I just ended up substituting cheese for the meat (cheese enchiladas, anyone?) and gained 6 pounds.
21. One day, I will own a convertible. It's my only materialistic goal.
22. My biggest non-materialistic goal: I want my kids to grow up to be good people. I don't care if they're doctors or janitors -- I just want them to be honorable, respectful, and kind.
23. I don't believe that anyone will read this far down the list.
24. I often wish for more hours in the day, so that I can do all the things I want to do.
25. I don't believe that knowing someone's favorite color tells you anything about them at all.
Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you.
1. I can't understand how I'm such a girly-girl when it comes to romantic comedies, ridiculous fruity drinks, and the need to talk everything to death, yet I completely missed the genes that make women like shoes and purses and care about fashion.
2. I learned to play the flute by playing while listening to every single game of the 1981 Dodgers season. I was never very talented, but I played for 3 hours a day, so I got good at it.
3. When I had just one child, I was a really good mom - consistent, patient, fair. Now that I have three, there are times when I just can't fight the chaos!
4. I hate writing. Anything. Especially checks ;)
5. I'm horrible with accents. After 6 years of living in London, I still can't imitate an English accent (any of them) at all. Don't ask me, please - it's humiliating!
6. My husband makes me laugh, even after almost 18 years, even when I'm mad at him. Don't tell him though - it'll go to his head!
7. I loathe shopping of all kinds - are there really people who do this for fun?
8. For a "greenie", I have an absolute love of technology. I adore my iPod, my Kindle, audiobooks, podcasts, tivo, and anything new and exciting.
9. I'm totally addicted to a Pogo game called Crazy Cakes. You make pretend baked goods for elves, dwarves, and wizards and deliver them via fairy. Yes, I know it's silly - but I'm counting on you to be kind and forgive me my weaknesses.
10. I'm pretty sure that my devotion to the Dodgers is as close as I've ever come to true religious faith.
11. I harbor a secret mistrust of people who like cats better than dogs. Since some of my best friends are "cat people", I've had to work past it and love them anyway.
12. I can fall asleep anywhere, at any time. Really.
13. I've never had a crush on an actor - but don't get me started on musicians!
14. I love sushi, but hate chopsticks. I was so happy the day I found an article that said that it's acceptable to eat sushi with your hands. If it's on the internet, it must be true, right? I choose to believe.
15. My favorite concert ever was The Kinks at the LA Sports Arena in 1985. Everyone knew all the words to every song, and we all sang along. I've been in awe of Ray Davies ever since.
16. I firmly believe that you should never mix sweet sauces with meat. No sweet and sour chicken, no orange duck, no barbeque sauce. It's just wrong.
17. I loved being pregnant, despite all of the complications and worries.
18. The only cliche I've ever really believed in is "bloom where you're planted." It reminds me to make the best of a new situation, and adjust to new places and people without self-pity. You know, play the cards you're dealt. Oops - there's another one!
19. I laugh every time I think about the movie This Is Spinal Tap.
20. I tried being a vegetarian for about 6 months in 1996, but since I dislike vegetables, it was a debacle. I just ended up substituting cheese for the meat (cheese enchiladas, anyone?) and gained 6 pounds.
21. One day, I will own a convertible. It's my only materialistic goal.
22. My biggest non-materialistic goal: I want my kids to grow up to be good people. I don't care if they're doctors or janitors -- I just want them to be honorable, respectful, and kind.
23. I don't believe that anyone will read this far down the list.
24. I often wish for more hours in the day, so that I can do all the things I want to do.
25. I don't believe that knowing someone's favorite color tells you anything about them at all.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
New Year's Resolutions
I know, it’s not January 1, but I always seem to make more resolutions at the beginning of a school year than at any other time. It just FEELS more like a fresh start – new classrooms and teachers for the kids, a fresh chance to make lasting memories. Plus, those new school supplies never fail to inspire. This year, I will really be able to draw something recognizable in crayon – look at the sharp points and variety of colors in this box! This year, the sky’s the limit! This year, I am the crayon queen.
Thankfully, I don’t write down my resolutions. This provides the special benefit of not requiring me to evaluate my progress at any point and therefore spares my fragile ego. Nonetheless, I’ve noticed that my resolutions are shockingly similar year after year. Also, they’re sadly sincere and well-meaning. I mean, I really want to be “edgy” and sarcastic and roll my eyes at the foibles of PTA meetings, pot-lucks, and jog-a-thons. I even achieved this state (don’t we all?) as a teenager, but now I’m back to energetically attending such meetings, planning menu items, and explaining the necessity of the fundraising jog-a-thon. My “cool” factor approximately zero, I live in fear that the word most people will use to describe me is “earnest”. Yeeeech!
So, my new and improved resolutions for this year contain no “I’ll keep in touch with friends and family” or “I’ll yell less and play more with my kids.” Oh, no. That was the old, earnest Lisa speaking. No, this year it’s a whole new ball game:
Resolution #1: I’m starting a rock band, buying a black leather outfit (no fringe), and taking it on the road. OK, so I only play the flute and they don’t make Size 18 black jumpsuits. Not to mention, have you seen the price of gas these days? OK, never mind, let’s move on.
Resolution #2: I’m going to be waaaay too busy writing existential poetry and attending readings by influential counterculture heroes to attend any PTA meetings. Except, is there a counterculture anymore? And as I’m a middle-aged, overweight Jewish girl from Palm Springs, would they let me in? What IS existential poetry, anyway? Plus, there’s usually home-baked food at those PTA meetings, and I’m a sucker for a good brownie. Maybe I can get those nice folks at the PTA meeting to bring bongos or something…
Resolution #3: I’m checking out the hottest clubs, latest clothes, and trendiest celebs in person. I mean, I live in L.A., don’t I? I’ve got my finger on the pulse, baby! Well, the suburbs of L.A. An hour’s drive from the hot clubs. And I go to sleep by 10. Surely there are some trend-setters out partying and gettin’ wild by 9, right? Come to think of it, I’d better study up on the trendy celebs, too – I can’t seem to recognize anyone who I don’t see daily at school pick-up.
Hmmm… I seem to be doing about as well with these resolutions as I do with the others. Anyway, who has the energy to try to be someone they're not? This year's resolution, then: I'm going to be PROUD of the earnest little volunteer that I am. Oh, and keep in touch with friends and yell less.
Gotta go prepare for that PTA meeting now - I hear someone’s baking cookies!
Thankfully, I don’t write down my resolutions. This provides the special benefit of not requiring me to evaluate my progress at any point and therefore spares my fragile ego. Nonetheless, I’ve noticed that my resolutions are shockingly similar year after year. Also, they’re sadly sincere and well-meaning. I mean, I really want to be “edgy” and sarcastic and roll my eyes at the foibles of PTA meetings, pot-lucks, and jog-a-thons. I even achieved this state (don’t we all?) as a teenager, but now I’m back to energetically attending such meetings, planning menu items, and explaining the necessity of the fundraising jog-a-thon. My “cool” factor approximately zero, I live in fear that the word most people will use to describe me is “earnest”. Yeeeech!
So, my new and improved resolutions for this year contain no “I’ll keep in touch with friends and family” or “I’ll yell less and play more with my kids.” Oh, no. That was the old, earnest Lisa speaking. No, this year it’s a whole new ball game:
Resolution #1: I’m starting a rock band, buying a black leather outfit (no fringe), and taking it on the road. OK, so I only play the flute and they don’t make Size 18 black jumpsuits. Not to mention, have you seen the price of gas these days? OK, never mind, let’s move on.
Resolution #2: I’m going to be waaaay too busy writing existential poetry and attending readings by influential counterculture heroes to attend any PTA meetings. Except, is there a counterculture anymore? And as I’m a middle-aged, overweight Jewish girl from Palm Springs, would they let me in? What IS existential poetry, anyway? Plus, there’s usually home-baked food at those PTA meetings, and I’m a sucker for a good brownie. Maybe I can get those nice folks at the PTA meeting to bring bongos or something…
Resolution #3: I’m checking out the hottest clubs, latest clothes, and trendiest celebs in person. I mean, I live in L.A., don’t I? I’ve got my finger on the pulse, baby! Well, the suburbs of L.A. An hour’s drive from the hot clubs. And I go to sleep by 10. Surely there are some trend-setters out partying and gettin’ wild by 9, right? Come to think of it, I’d better study up on the trendy celebs, too – I can’t seem to recognize anyone who I don’t see daily at school pick-up.
Hmmm… I seem to be doing about as well with these resolutions as I do with the others. Anyway, who has the energy to try to be someone they're not? This year's resolution, then: I'm going to be PROUD of the earnest little volunteer that I am. Oh, and keep in touch with friends and yell less.
Gotta go prepare for that PTA meeting now - I hear someone’s baking cookies!
Monday, August 11, 2008
Chip-ical
What to name a blog?
I've always had a problem with this! I admire people who can blithely pick out a personalized license plate, wear a t-shirt with something written on it, or otherwise sum up their lives and themselves in one short phrase. There's just nothing I believe in that much! Or rather, there are MANY things and I can't choose which one to commit to.
In trying to decide on a blog name, then, I was stumped. I started thinking about my life and a short phrase that describes it. This summer, with 3 kids at home all the time, trying to run a new business, and Pee Wee/Bantam football taking any "spare" time I already didn't have, I feel like I'm just barely keeping all the balls in the air. I tried "Juggling Kittens" and "Controlled Chaos" (flattering myself on that last one - it's not even close to controlled), but apparently I'm not the only one who feels this way. They were both already taken.
Then, in thinking of my juggling act, I remembered our 6-month-old lab puppy, Chip. Chip delights us daily with the new and unique ways that he can destroy our belongings/endanger his own life/embarrass us in public. Last week, as he was "graduating" from puppy preschool, he managed to vomit up an entire pair of my 7-year-old daughter's underwear, thereby accomplishing all 3 things at once! These events are so common -- "where's the pad to Josh's football helmet? I don't know, check Chip's mouth!" -- that we even have a new name for them: Chipical. As in, "That's just chipical."
Thinking about it, that pretty much sums up my life. Things go wrong, often. Nothing is done perfectly (or even completely). If the dishes are piled up in the sink and the living room is a mess, unexpected company is sure to turn up. And all I can do is to laugh about it, and say with love and acceptance of the chaos swirling around us: Chipical!
I've always had a problem with this! I admire people who can blithely pick out a personalized license plate, wear a t-shirt with something written on it, or otherwise sum up their lives and themselves in one short phrase. There's just nothing I believe in that much! Or rather, there are MANY things and I can't choose which one to commit to.
In trying to decide on a blog name, then, I was stumped. I started thinking about my life and a short phrase that describes it. This summer, with 3 kids at home all the time, trying to run a new business, and Pee Wee/Bantam football taking any "spare" time I already didn't have, I feel like I'm just barely keeping all the balls in the air. I tried "Juggling Kittens" and "Controlled Chaos" (flattering myself on that last one - it's not even close to controlled), but apparently I'm not the only one who feels this way. They were both already taken.
Then, in thinking of my juggling act, I remembered our 6-month-old lab puppy, Chip. Chip delights us daily with the new and unique ways that he can destroy our belongings/endanger his own life/embarrass us in public. Last week, as he was "graduating" from puppy preschool, he managed to vomit up an entire pair of my 7-year-old daughter's underwear, thereby accomplishing all 3 things at once! These events are so common -- "where's the pad to Josh's football helmet? I don't know, check Chip's mouth!" -- that we even have a new name for them: Chipical. As in, "That's just chipical."
Thinking about it, that pretty much sums up my life. Things go wrong, often. Nothing is done perfectly (or even completely). If the dishes are piled up in the sink and the living room is a mess, unexpected company is sure to turn up. And all I can do is to laugh about it, and say with love and acceptance of the chaos swirling around us: Chipical!
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