I’m in San Jose now, after a long day which was originally planned to be fairly slack. I drove from meeting my friend Paul and another former shipmate, Joe, in San Diego out to Matt’s house in Palm Desert. The drive was over 2 and a half hours long. All told, it seemed to go by quickly.
I hung out with Matt, Daniella, and Angus last evening until way too late, and then had breakfast with them this morning. It was good seeing Matt and Daniella again, and to meet the famous Angus. Matt and I quizzed each other on the whereabouts of our former shipmates and complained about those who tormented us while we served together.
The whole time I’d been living in San Diego, I’d never gotten out to see the desert. Today was my first view of it in the daylight. Not long before I woke, the sun rose above the mountains near Matt’s home. The craggly mountains presented a stunning view, with the millions of shadows each carried capturing the attention. I was also amazed at the number and variety of birds around his home. Though the desert seems a forbidding place, there is a simple beauty to it which becomes apparent once one takes a closer look. I didn’t have nearly enough time to explore, so I’ll have to take Matt up on his suggestion of getting invited out again. The fact that it was 80 degrees and gorgeously sunny there while back in Raleigh it was cold and rainy also makes Palm Desert attractive.
As I walked around the Palm Desert mall, I couldn’t help but notice all the retired folks there. The place has a huge population of senior citizens. Nothing wrong with that in the scheme of things, I suppose, though it did make me feel weirdly out of place. I wondered if some of these folks were pretending to be young again. Then I thought, what’s wrong with that? When I’m that age, I’d sure as hell love to be out playing tennis or golf or whatnot, rather than sitting around a retirement home staring at the walls. I should be so lucky to have that option.
Driving back to San Diego sucked royally. I wound up spending more time at Matt’s house than I expected, and thus the non-rush-hour window for getting back almost slipped away. It was nerve-wracking threading my way through Los Angeles traffic, but I managed to make good time back to San Dog and only hit slowdowns once I was close to my destination.
The San Jose airport is a “cluster,” as we used to say in the Navy. To get out, you navigate a maze of twisty little passages, all alike. I thought when I finally got out of there, I’d pass a big piece of cheese or something.
I’ve got lots more thoughts bouncing around my head, but sleep calls, and a busy day tomorrow awaits. TTFN.
