I Will Always Be A Child Of The Desert

"I want to feel sunlight on my face

I see the dust cloud disappear without a trace

I want to take shelter from the poison rain

Where the streets have no name"

-U2

I will always be a child of the desert. I say this with some trepidation since I abhor deterministic theories, especially geographical/social ones. "I am like this because of my parents." "I have these fears because of my experiences in school." "Life in the city explains my criminal past." Mostly bullshit excuses, but everyone is to some extent a product of their environment but EVERYONE has free will and can choose right from wrong, positive from negative, productive from destructive. I may never return to the desert in a permanent way, but living the first 18 years of my life in the desert has made a mark on me. And I will always refer to my little desert community as "home."

Living in the desert instills selfsufficiency. Many isolated locales do this, but few take away the three necessities of survival like the desert. Three hours without shelter in any exterme climate begins to negatively impact the body. Three days without water and the body is in severe dehydration. Three weeks without food and the body begins to wither and deteriorate. All three of these necessities--shelter, water, and food--are in short supply in the desert. So people learn to adapt. They learn selfsufficiency. Whether its a group of "desert rats" and "rock hounds" looking for the next great mineralogical find or a bunch of Jesus-freaks looking to practice their beliefs in isolation, to live in the desert is to be selfsufficient.

Desert life promotes independence and isolation from society. Even those who eventually flee the desert, that spirit of independence and appreciation of isolation rarely goes away. After high school I could not wait to get out of that desert prison and explore civilization. But through the years--and I bet this holds true for those who embraced urbanization and city life--I have always had my retreat. It might be a corner of the backyard particularly well suited for reading a good book or smoking a good cigar or a room in the house away from the television where I can bang away on the computer, writing dribble like this. Desert folk require some solitude.

Growing up in the desert develops a sense of appreciation for simple things, for things others may not see. For non-desert beings traveling along the freeway, the desert is a bland, lifeless place. But if they took the time to stop and explore, to look for the little things they would be amazed. Among the Creosote scrub and Mesquite trees are small patches of beauty, especially in the spring. Wildflowers clumped here and there, blossoms on prickly cacti, and ironwood trees twisted into otherworldly shapes. And animals of all sorts--trantulas moving gingerly across the rocky gorund, squirrels peeking out of their dirty holes, rattlesnakes sunning themselves on a flat rock, coyotes sometimes not seen but heard trotting across the barren land and howling their lonesome cry. People from the desert have the ability to see the small things both beautiful and ugly that others simply miss.

So I may live in an agricultural valley now, in a city ten times the size of my desert home and within thirty minutes of an urban center numbering half a million; but I will always be a child of the desert. I have been where the streets have no name, and that's ok with me.

 

 

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