Palm Springs 1

Our first destination on this trip was Palm Springs.

Palm Springs is a small city of about 40,000 people, located about 2 hours east of Los Angeles.

 

When I was a child, my father bought the home pictured below with some of his coworkers who were all in the real estate business (不動産業界). During the spring and autumn months we would spend about one weekend a month at the Palm Spring house, swimming in our pool, playing in the local park, taking walks in the evening, and eating at our favorite Mexican restaurant. It was truly a happy time for all of us.

About ten years later, my father sold that house and bought another slightly bigger one in the nicer Las Palmas neighborhood of Palm Springs. Here, our neighbors included the famous statesmen Henry Kissinger and actor Rock Hudson. All of the houses, or at least most of them, were designed by the same architectural company, so they have a similar style that is very Mid-Century Modern.

This was the house across the street from ours ↓

Although it may look dry—and to be honest, it is—this view is one I love. Palm trees, Mid-Century Modern architecture, the mountains and blue skies.

When we had the house, most of our neighbors had laws in front of their homes. The drought (干魃) of the past two decades has caused everyone to turn their gardens into desert ones.

Here is a more iconic image of Palm Springs. Golf course, palm trees, blue skies and mountains. As you can see from the photo, there is snow on those mountains. The highest mountain is San Jacinto. It is about 300 meters lower than Mount Fuji and can get a lot of snow. The water in the local springs come from that snow.

There is a tram that goes from Palm Springs all the way up into the mountains. I must confess that I have never been on it.

We meant to go up into the mountains this time, but it was too cold and rainy.

Summer of 1940

Mom's Memories of Summer:

When your grandfather worked for Locket, he had a week off every summer in mid-August. A week or so before the trip, my parents would take everything out of storage, open it all up and air it out. They’d put a big mattress in the back of the truck, which had 2’ high walls, and drive up to Sequoia National Forest or even as far as Yosemite. The year Margaret was born (‘37), we went to Big Bear Lake.

The drive north was always an adventure because I-5 hadn’t been built yet. Going up the steep and winding road over the Grapevine was hard on the cars which would vapor lock and stall.

Once at the campsite, we would back the truck in, and tie up some sheets for privacy. Mom and Dad slept on the mattress. We also had a canvas-like teepee with cots that we kids—your uncle Jim and I—would sleep on. In later years, Winford, who was 13 years older than me, lived by himself, attending Fullerton Junior College, so he couldn’t come with us. He would end up working for North American Aviation until the war started.

At the campsite, they hung glass lamps on the trees for lighting. I remember the lamps came from China.

In the morning, Dad would make a fire and brew a pot of coffee. Mom would cook baked beans and fry up some bacon which always smelled so good. Eggs would then be deep fried in bacon fat. It tasted great but couldn’t have been too easy on our arteries.

After Pearl Harbor was attacked and America entered the war, gas was rationed. To get it, you had to drive all the way to Orange which was five miles away. Still, Dad was able to get a bit more gas than most people because he worked on a farm. He’d save up the ration tickets to have enough gas for our summer trip. In 1942, we didn’t have enough gas to get all the way up into the mountains and ended up staying in the King’s River area in King’s Canyon.

Grandpa on his tractor