The Days Fold In to One Another

To beat the heat I have started doing my morning walk after only my first cup of coffee by about 5:30 a.m. It is starting to get light at that time but not enough that the bats are entirely back to their caves in the mountain, so they swoop low over me chasing the last of their meals as they head en masse east before the first rays of sunlight hit. Due to the tropical monsoon dampness now present, the desert smells are sharper and assault my nose with varying degrees depending upon topography and land features. The vegetation of the low-lying washes always put forth more pungent flavors. It’s quiet out this time of morning and I am often the only one out walking, but not always. For the resolute, everyone now walks well before 7 a.m. or not at all.

Even though my days vary between clients and tasks, there has developed a flow to my weeks that has them quickly slipping past. That’s ok; it will be nice to be around the bend from Yuma’s oppressive summer heat so I already look forward to the fall and winter. Although I am now tied to the desert as surely as if I had shackles around my ankles, so far my business gives me enough pleasure that I have been able to temper my need and yearning for escape. At some point though (I can feel it building) I will need to see some trees and real mountains and terrain that isn’t all rock and sand.

Marc will return soon with our new cat and some quasi-plans to perhaps get the front of our lot gated off so we can hope to contain our cats on our lot and not have them wandering. Tucker, given the heat, has learned to stay close, hiding under the damp coolness the Pigmy palm affords but only for about an hour every morning then he too is ready to relax beneath the air conditioner, snoozing his day away. By that time, I am off as I am most mornings, to make my elderly lady her breakfast and chat with her to get her day started. She has even been asking me to come over on Saturdays, effectively making a six day work week for me but I still get enough breaks that it is not a problem. She says she misses me when I’m not there! Surely, that’s some sort of job security….

If Karma Works, I Should Be in For Good Times Soon

Even though my own service helping out seniors has been keeping me fairly busy, I haven’t given up on my desire to continue with my volunteer work with Helping Hands, a wonderful organization worthy of so much praise for all they do for so many. I typically devote at least 3-10 hours a week to their cause. They serve over 720 seniors in the greater Foothills area of Yuma and their volunteer numbers fall off drastically during summer since many who volunteer are seniors themselves, winter visitors who fly the coop so to speak during the heat. Consequently, they can really use the help.

Yesterday I had a light client day so was cleaning the RV when I got an emergency call asking me to quickly help out an elderly lady whose air conditioning had failed. I needed to pick her up from her home, transport her to an assisted living facility, whereby she would be taken by someone else half way to San Diego where her daughter would pick her up from there. Over her protests that it shamed her to have to ask for such help, I reminded her that Helping Hands is there for instances such as this and that we were glad we could be of service to her. With our heat index now hovering daily at over 115 degrees, it wouldn’t take long to put a senior such as herself in dire straits inside a dwelling with no air conditioning!

On another note, Marc and I were asked by our daughter this week to take in her errant former cat. Through the recent divorce and Rachael’s subsequent move to a rental which would not allow pets, she thought her former husband would be able to keep Derby until her situation improved. Unfortunately, he too found it necessary to move into a place where pets weren’t allowed so he gave the cat to some friends. Derby was chipped as a kitten so when she escaped last week and was found wandering the busy highway in Troutdale, Oregon and turned in to the animal shelter by a Good Samaritan, it was my daughter they called. Distraught and horrified, Rachael asked if we could possibly consider taking her in so they wouldn’t have to turn her in to the animal shelter.

Now understand, Derby is a one person cat with an attitude, so this is no light request. She is nothing at all like what I would want for my own pet and we certainly weren’t looking to add a buddy to our lovable hunk of mellow yellow, our golden boy Tucker.




But with a daughter in meltdown over Derby’s real possibility of euthanasia, what’s a parent to do?




Marc will be returning with a new pal—one who so far is so ungrateful as to only hiss at him. Rachael brought her over to Bend and is trying hard to ease the transition for a cat who has obviously suffered major trauma in the past few weeks and months. I wonder what my golden boy is going to think when she walks in. Maybe she will provide interest for him to change from his now-normal summertime posture:


I nearly feel like a grandparent must when asked to babysit the grandkids when they had other plans. Do you do it or not? I told my daughter she’s going to owe me for this but we can’t stand the fact of beautiful Derby not having a chance at life. Tucker, did I tell you you’re going to have a new baby sister? Rescuing seniors and cats--that's me!

Into the Tropical Monsoon Season

Seemingly in one fell swoop we entered the monsoon season here in Yuma last night. Yesterday’s high temperature of 115 degrees only faded to about an 85 overnight as suddenly winds started gusting sustained at between 20-30 mph and I could hear banging and clanging throughout the yard as stuff blew over. This morning dawns slightly cloudy with the gusting winds still pushing the palms around, and with a jump in humidity from 5% yesterday to 48% this morning I feel like I’m in the tropics! There is always softness to the air with such a humidity level, which I’ve missed living in the desert, so maybe the monsoon will have a silver lining after all.

I wrapped up a very busy week with my seniors and picked up three new clients. More and more I feel as though my business is underway and the response to the job I do has continued to be a very positive reinforcement that I am on the right track. The old truism “find a need and fill it” was never truer.

Marc hasn’t quite made it to Oregon as yet; he has been visiting with old friends, enjoying cool to moderate temperatures, nightly barbecues and probably a few Crown Royals around late-night conversations. He needed the break. Lucky guy—I think he even plans on seeing an old friend in Coos Bay so he will definitely be feeling a little of monsoon air himself at the coast.

Our forward forecast has temperatures moderating just a bit as I head into another busy week. Will today at 108 seem cool as compared to yesterday’s 115?

Another Piece of My Heart

Escaping the heat with our boat in tow, Marc plans to head north to Oregon tomorrow. As we drift further into the abyss of joblessness, the boat just has to go. So we are giving it back to the dealer.

It, like our bike we had to sell three shorts month ago, represents another lifestyle and another time, which now seems so foreign and far off. Now we scrimp to have money to buy groceries, utilities, fuel, vehicle maintenance and nothing else; then we had money for enjoyment, toys, and good times. I can’t look at it without remembering gently bobbing on the bay, sipping hot coffee or cold beer, while we waited out the necessary soak time for our crab pots. Reading the tide chart was a morning ritual.





If there was ever a case of a planned-for-future not working out as planned, Marc and I are living proof. Now we don’t make plans; we drift from day to day wondering where the next dollar will come from and when it doesn’t, what we will lose next.

Growing Fond of the Desert or Daft From the Heat….

It’s about as official as the Duskes can ever predict such a thing: we are more than likely going to settle in as permanent Yuma residents, better known as Yumans.

With the development and growth of my service helping seniors and my great enjoyment in doing so, I feel myself more and more reluctant to consider anything beyond Yuma. Yes, it could still be necessary for Marc to leave for a steady job, but it would take a great deal to get me out of here.

Yuma came to be by default. We hung on a little too long to a lot we intended to develop and flip for a good profit—we got torn away from it many winters and couldn’t complete the improvements in a timely fashion and then the market simply drained away. Having no great impetus to sell, why would we now at a loss? Besides, Marc spent thousands of dollars and four back and forth trips getting much of our stored goods from Bend moved here, all at tremendous effort. For better or worse, this is home, baby.

Is it just me or does aging make contemplating change more difficult? Suddenly the temptation of far-off exploration and grass is greener syndrome just doesn’t seem to hold water for me. Maybe being the consummate wanderer, I have finally seen enough. For once in my life, I am trying to appreciate the nuances of remaining static; trying to build the ties that bind one to a community in blissful contentment. I know others have done it; why has it always eluded me?

The searing heat of our desert summer doesn’t make this an easy task but perhaps it will be an enduring one. Where else do we have to go; where else do we have to be? Am I at last finding the meaning of “home”? Frankly, I’m tired of moving, tired of the transience, tired of all the money spent and frittered away that we now so desperately could use. I want to watch my plants grow, I want to see my business grow and I want to remain on my own piece of desert dirt. There’s no doubt about it; Yuma’s climate is hell on earth for about three months out of the year. But its climate is also heaven on earth for at least six months of the year. That’s more than an equitable trade I would say.

My Niche during the Trying Times

The endless blue skies which so captivate us during a Yuma winter now stretch into a miserable summer. Although heat came late to Yuma this year, it is finally arriving with daily triple digits. The signature moment of transition is when even the nights no longer cool down to make for a refreshing morning. How refreshing is it to wake up to 75 degrees at 5 a.m.? My plants bake; the concrete bakes, we bake. But we have been told it is as nothing as yet; just wait for July and August.

Our days have assumed a normal that is typical with working folks, although Marc’s remodel job is drawing to a close. My service to the seniors is building, week by week, and I cling to the hope that it will get much busier when the snowbirds arrive back in town by November. It is still a pittance of the income we really need but it has brought me great joy to work with these people so I persevere. At the very least between it and the volunteering I still do, it keeps me busy, out and about meeting new people, and helps me from falling back into the glumness that has been our life for the past three-four years.

Recent news on the economy is not real encouraging either. From all indications, the US is on the verge of another trek back into recession and my brain keeps reverberating with a quote from some government official who stated “Nine percent unemployment may be the “new normal” for the next 10-15 years.” That sounds like political hedging to me—the parties getting ready to make their lame excuses, heading into election year, just as always, while we on the bottom tier bare the brunt of all the Wall Street folly. The latest speculation is for a massive stock market crash by summer’s end—if indeed it happens, again wiping out the common man’s futile attempts at building something for retirement income.

I keep telling myself, don’t despair, it’s only the summer doldrums. I have better things to do now; taking care of my seniors, all much more desperate than I. At least it appears to be a recession-proof job. When you’re old and have no one else around and you need help—you need help. They are all so thankful for my presence—it is a joy to work for them. And in turn, I am thankful to each of them; they keep me going. I keep hoping I am building something meaningful. So far it sure feels right. (Google stock photos).

Nothing Like Getting Caught Up in the Drama

As most of you have probably heard by now, a disgruntled man, age 73, involved in a bad divorce decided to take it out upon people in a horrific way in Yuma today. Six people were shot, five dead. The other clings to life in Phoenix.

In a very vicarious way, I was there. You see, I was doing my Helping Hands transport with a gal that needed to see a doctor on 4^th in the morning. As we were pulling up to the major intersection of 16^th and 4^th, cop car after cop car came screaming by with sirens blasting. As I was in the middle of the intersection on a green left turn arrow, an unmarked car with lights flashing came into the intersection from my lane—in other words, heading head on into me in the wrong direction so I slammed on my brakes to let him pass. A block later, I dropped off my lady and started to head back out on 4^th to run an errand when I received a call from our coordinator at Helping Hands. It was a police emergency she said and I replied “Yeah, I appear to be right in the middle of it on 4^th”. Right at that moment an ambulance was blasting towards and past me from the direction of Yuma’s core downtown. Both my transport and I had thought “Oh, very bad accident” but instead I hear the words “There is a man shooting who started in Wellton (a small town 18 miles east of Yuma) and has shot five people. He is driving a silver PT Cruiser, dressed in green so be very, very careful!”

My head went on swivel patrol as my nervous eyes scanned constantly left and right looking for silver cars. Not knowing any details until later in the day, when I picked my lady up to drive her home I took back roads, thinking it was probably safer than taking the freeway in case someone was trying to make a getaway.

The details as of now seem to suggest that at the time we were downtown; the shooter was still lose and had just finished killing people. At the time the police cars sped by me, they probably were chasing him out Hwy. 95, which is the main highway heading towards Quartzsite from Yuma, and approximately at the junction with Fortuna Rd, which is out in the Foothills where we live, they found him dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, saving us all the bother of a trial.

The man’s rampage lasted half a day and took in a great swath from Wellton to Yuma. What a senseless tragedy. What a day to have to go into downtown Yuma! *Jerrold Shelley, the only victim so far identified beyond the shooter, was a prominent Yuma divorce and criminal attorney.

Timeline of calls, according to the Yuma County Sheriff's Office:

5:07 a.m. - First call came in. Yuma County Sheriff's deputies respond to a residence at Avenue 22 1/2E and Highway 80, where they found one victim who had been shot. That victim was taken by air ambulance to a Phoenix hospital and is listed in critical condition

8:19 a.m. - A second victim was found at a residence near Avenue 35E and Highway 80. The victim had been killed.

9:21 a.m. - Yuma police respond to an office on 2nd Avenue, where they found the body of Jerrold Shelley.

9:43 a.m. - Deputies respond to another call at Avenue 32E and Highway 80, where two victims were killed.

10:20 a.m. - Deputies respond to Avenue 36E and Highway 80, where another victim was killed.

10:47 a.m. - Deputies respond to Blaisdell area, where they found the body of Carey Hal Dyess, 73. Dyess, who police have identified as the suspect in the killings, was killed by an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.

UPDATED 5:20 p.m. - The suspect in a series of shootings around Yuma County is dead, police said. Carey Hal Dyess, 73, of Yuma, apparently shot and killed one person in Yuma and four people in Yuma County before shooting himself, according to a press conference this afternoon.