The Owens Valley and Insight

I’m in the Owens Valley. Famous or infamous by Manzanar, the WWII Japanese Internment Camp, or the greet Los Angeles water robbery that created caustic conditions in the valley and effectively eliminated agriculture. I’ve been to the Valley three or four times, and I wanted to figure out why I keep on coming back. The place is beautiful, but … Continue reading

Campfires

I sat by the fire tonight, reflecting. I’ve always looked at a fire as the release of the summer’s sun, contained in the wood from all those years go. I’ve sat by many fires over most of my life. I spent my summers on the East End of Long Island, on a piece of property my grandfather purchased about 1947. My Father’s best man, Bob Hartwell bought a piece of property on the North Shore of the Lower Fork of the East End, in a place called Noyac. He built a house carved out of the oak forest mantling the hills of the South Fork. He cleared the land, and as a result, he and his children, my unofficial cousins, became masters of woodcraft. Camp fires were a common occurrence, both out of necessity and pleasure. Continue reading

Camp Day at the Salton Sea

I’ve developed a bad habit of making a schedule and rushing to keep on schedule. This January, for the trip I’m on, I drove from NJ to Arizona, a distance if just over 2,800 miles in four and a half days. Last Fall, I drove from NJ to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, just over 1,000 miles, in about two days. I knew I was developing bad habits in thin thinking I could get quickly from one place to another. I also knew that with all the traveling I did last year, the best times were those where I fooled around with the RV and did close to nothing for a while. Continue reading

Friendship

 After a very active day at the RV Rally in Quartzsite, I got back to my campsite. The people I’ve been with had a campfire going. Everyone was relaxed, there were several conversations going at the same time, and everyone was having a very nice time. Michael Soloway, a fellow New Jerseyian, came over with his accordion. I had helped Michael install additional Solar Panels on his RV in my driveway, and we have been to several Rallies’ together. This was not your grandpa’s squeezebox. No EEEH AWWWW EEEEEH. This was the organ a Radio City Music Hall playing at our campfire. Michael’s music was nuanced, expressive and full of emotion. He has a job playing music at an upcoming International Film Festival in New York, and he was practicing on us. Everyone should be so fortunate to have him practice on them. Continue reading