Yes, I was a "desert rat", and reading my friend
A :-) 's post about her incredible journey in the Sahara inspired me to show you a bit of my past. In 2005 I was blessed to be able to go back to visit for the bi-annual Midland Reunion. I stepped out of the car onto ground I had not touched in 42 years, and looked at mountains I thought I would never see again. It was an emotional and inspiring journey "home". Though my parents and I only spent 8 and 1/2 years in the desert, I count it as the most beautiful place I have ever lived.
You might find it strange that I refer to Midland and this part of the California desert as "mine". I think all of us former "Midlandites" do. Midland was a company town and we were just renters. It is still owned by the United States Gypsum Company. But we all developed an almost spiritual connection to the desert.
Castle Rock, my beautiful mountain. I could see this mountain from our picture window
Castle Rock and the Big Maria mountain chain in the sunset. A picture of my heart. Not an evening went by that I did not watch a sunset, all crimson and purple and gold, reflected on the mountains.
Big Maria. I could easily see this mountain from my bedroom window. Often in the summer I would wake before sunrise and watch wispy clouds as they turned ever brighter, from gray to dusty rose, to soft orange, then gold, and finally bright white as the sun rose across the desert. I took this picture while standing on the huge concrete slab where the USG plant once stood.
Big Maria and the reunion
Our first house. We lived in two places in Midland. I think we were in this house for 2 years, which would have been 1955 to 1957. I remember sitting very still on this porch for a very long time as two birds fed on the ground. Eventually they ended up only about 2 feet away from me. That's our
Morris Minor rag top car in the driveway.
All that is left of our first house, a tiny concrete slab. How did we live in something so tiny!!
We moved across the street on the corner, into a bigger house with a crawl space and no concrete slab. All that is left is a rusted, crumpled water pipe and the outline of our cactus garden. The
ocotillo is still there! And doubled in size! This picture is looking north-northwest, at the Little Maria Mountains.
Looking south, toward Blythe. This was the view to the south, from our kitchen window, although there were houses then.
Me, my mom, and my step-grandpa on my dad's side, standing in front of what's left of the Morris Minor. You can see part of the USG plant behind me and the north edge of Big Maria behind the car. The desert dryness and heat deteriorated the rag top on the car. The last nail in its coffin was a midnight drive my dad took us on. The radiator hose broke and we lost all the water in the radiator. We were on a remote road only traveled once a week at best. If my dad had stopped the car we would have been doomed, so he drove it home and parked it. The engine block cracked from the heat. Of course, we knew that. It was us or the car. This was about 1960
Here is the same corner in 2005, but looking east, south-east. The bench was placed there for fun by some former Midlandites.
Here is the street-view of my corner, looking south. You can see the cactus garden in the distance to the right. Those are the Little Maria Mountains in the distance. The driveway curved in a semi-circle around the bush. We lived on the corner, so you could enter the driveway from the north or the east. My corner is a "bus stop"! Neat!
Back to reality. This is where I live now. It's green but claustrophobic and uninspiring. Behind that brown wall is a noisy expressway. It might look like the country but its not. Is smells like a city. Oh boo hoo, I know---feeling sorry for myself.
