Having predominantly spent my formative years in the Midwest, the opportunities to go surfing were so few and far between that they were, essentially, nonexistent. The closest I got to the sport was watching Gidget movies at the drive-in.
ArtWalk NTC @ Liberty Station photo by Paul Nestor
The first time I attended an outdoor art festival, I bought a small print. This was long before I could consider myself a collector, but I recall that even making a nominal investment (about $15) provided me with a sense of satisfaction. For the record, it was the Plaza Art Fair in Kansas City, Mo., which marks its 83rd year next month.
When the roots of a eucalyptus tree in my back yard began destroying nearby hardscape, I had to hire someone with a crane to pull it out. I filled the void with an olive tree — transplanted from another spot in the yard. I lack the incentive to brine the olives, so they end up in the green trash. The extent of my knowledge about olive trees has been limited to the watering and trimming needs of the only fruit bearer I grow but don’t harvest.
A stranger walks into your house. OK, let’s take the creep factor out of the equation and make that an invited stranger — for whatever reason you might invite a stranger past the front door, which could range from an actuary who can advise you on life insurance and who may never cross your threshold again to your son’s new girlfriend who may one day become a family member with an open invitation to “bring the grandkids by anytime.”
Many years ago, I hopped on a bus with a bunch of other desert folk at the La Quinta Civic Center for a day trip to a sandcastle competition in Imperial Beach. A photo collage that I made from photos of the sculptures (not necessarily “castles”) hangs in the guest bath at my house in Palm Springs. Now a San Diegan, I encouraged four out-of-town friends to join me in IB for the Sun & Sea Festival on July 19.