I am a California native that grew up in two very different locations. The first place: China Lake, a small community in the heart of the Mojave desert, the majestic Sierra Nevada Mountain range rises up on the West side, a community of engineers and naval personnel, one high school and one McDonalds. The second place: Los Angeles, the largest city in the United States, with diverse cultures, thriving industries, traffic and beaches.

I am fortunate to have experienced both a big city and a small town while growing up. I appreciate the energy and excitement of the city but also the beauty and peaceful aspects of the desert and small town. My dad brought me to the Sierra’s, Yosemite, and Mammoth for days filled with hiking, climbing, camping, swimming, soaking in hot springs and skiing. We would go on road trips through Nevada, Utah and Arizona. My friends and I would gather in the desert staring up at the universe, trying to spot shooting stars and looking for UFO’s. We would wander out to the dry lake (China Lake) after a rain and catch fairy shrimp, which would somehow miraculously emerge from this baked lake bed alive and swimming. We would play out in the desert where we could find horny toads or arrowheads and spend hours checking out the busy red and black ants in the sand. High school parties would often be in the middle of the desert under the vast night sky, with bonfire’s, music and kegs. We lived amongst sage brush, tumble weeds, scorpions and rattlesnakes.  Our school outings were to learn about local Native American art and culture or to learn about fish hatcheries or reptiles.   The skies are endless here. It is a tranquil place full of beauty and mystery.

Los Angeles was a different animal altogether but another magical place to grow up. My mother would pile me and my best friend in the back seat of her ’65 Chevy with all windows down, hair blowing in the wind, no seat belts, to Santa Monica beach. We would play in the sand and water until the sun set. Digging for sand crabs, making little canals in the sand for the oncoming sea water, cartwheeling around the seagulls. My mom also took me on road trips to visit her lumberjack brother and his family in Oregon. Special times being a kid, looking for Big Foot, swimming in the local watering hole, playing pool in the only diner. Back at home kids would play outside until dinner time. Running around the grass front yards playing tv tag, hide and go seek or doing gymnastics. We would go to the local movie theater, day trips to museums or check out dance performance and musicals. My mom would have her jazz musician friends come over for impromptu jam sessions in our living room. How intriguing to listen to this music and watching these musicians play until bedtime.  

As I look back, I think that the fact that I was a child of divorce going back and forth between two very different locals, conditioned me to be able to get up and go and taught me to value different environments, people, cultures and activities. I always like to be active, try new things and travel to new places – still!