Occupation of Independence

RV wannabees love to be told what they want to hear. (How did the lyric go in that old Simon and Garfunkel song? "A man hears what he wants to hear, and disregards the rest...") And you know what that is, for Arizona desert camping. Now let's show you that it isn't always like that!  

This isn't the first time I have helped somebody on their camper (RV, rig, etc.) But it is the biggest project in which I played mentor. I thought it would make it smoother to also be the 'student.' It really is a fascinating challenge for me. Perhaps a parent would dismiss my use of the word 'fascinating' because I am just doing to another adult what he has been doing to his child for years! Obviously I will not bore the reader with a blow-by-blow account of microscopic "practical" details. What is of interest is how all of this bears on the human condition. 1. Being helpful in the right way. A mentor sometimes accomplishes most of what they are ever going to accomplish by simply informing the student that something can be done. Sometimes it is enough to make them feel confident, without getting down 'into the weeds' of microscopic details. Furthermore the mentor must be careful not to foster dependency of the part of the student: help the

I was furious with myself. Why hadn't I pointed the bow of my trailer into the storm! The wind was shifting to the "sou'west" in a few minutes, when heavy rain was supposed to hit. And then there was a lull in the rain, so I ran outside and got hitched up as quickly as possible. Now I can turn a circle on flat desert gravel, in order to get the perfect angle.  I have to smile at this. I am reading Abulafia's "The Boundless Sea", about the history of oceans, or rather, the history of man's relationship with those oceans. And here I am: bracing for a storm at sea -- in the Arizona desert. On one level it is enjoyable and satisfying to make a connection like this. But it is also humbling to think how timid and wimpy a modern man can be, compared to our ancestors just a couple generations ago. My own grandfather worked as a cabin boy in the Baltic Sea when he was 14. My father was on an LST in the south Pacific during World War II when he was eight

Lately I have had a chance to observe a group of people I am not used to. I am not even sure what to call them, but they seem to be a group of boondockers who spun off of the Van Build group in Parker, AZ. I am here to help a friend finish his van. It has been interesting to watch these people and wonder why they are "dispersed" camping on top of each other? Why do they seem to enjoy morning and late afternoon group meetings? Why don't they get going in the morning before the wind starts blowing? Why are they so uninterested in outdoor recreation? Why is music noise unregulated but dogs are strictly regulated? They seem to think desert camping is the moral equivalent of spring break at Ft. Lauderdale, for college kiddies. Perhaps we don't need to think that hard. They are here because of the price and the price alone. I hope they get an opportunity someday to do something that fits their interests better. If they could afford it, they would be happier in a lar

I was checking out of the hardware store the other day, when  I noticed something rather strange on the counter. Apparently it normally conveyed itself in the woman customer's purse. But the woman thought it needed to relax or something, so she let it walk around on the counter. The woman told me I could pet the beast if I wanted to. I ungraciously declined. Then the hardware store checkout lady started telling me about bearded dragons, about how friendly they are, and how they cuddle on your pillow at night with you. I remained unconvinced. But I admit that the beastie was rather personable, as dragons go. Still, I hope this isn't the latest and greatest fad. I say, bring back the teacup poodle or Yorkie.