Menifee Column

A Doug's Life: Becoming a Desert Rat

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Thu, 31 May 2012 04:42:00 +0000

I think I was right after all.

When I moved from the San Gabriel Valley to Menifee, I told people I was relocating to the desert. They pictured a cabana next to the pool in Palm Springs and cactus everywhere. OK, I said, it's the edge of the desert.

Then I sat and waited almost eight months for the desert weather to set in. Last October, I could sit in the spa at night and look up at the countless stars. But much of the time since then, I have endured gloomy skies, rain and nighttime temperatures in the 30s. I thought summer in the desert would never get here.

Now this is more like it.

Say what you want. Granted, I haven't seen a whole lot of cacti nor one roadrunner since I got here. Seems there are more horses than lizards or snakes. But you know what? Even if this is just the edge of the desert, I'll take it. I find it kind of therapuetic, if the heat and desert breezes stick around.

The dry heat, clear skies and solitude of the desert has always meant vacation time to me. It started when I was a kid, when my parents would take my sisters and me to Desert Hot Springs for weekend retreats. They would relax in the whirlpools of hot mineral water. I would jump in and out of the cold pool, stare at the stars at night and look for scorpions.

It was the ultimate get-away. Oh sure, we would frequent the beach and the mountains, each of which have their own appeal. But to me, the desert was the premier destination for die-hard adventurers.

Of course, weather conditions were not always perfect. My grandparents lasted only about a year after retiring to a mobile home park in Desert Hot Springs in the 1960s. Grandma hated the windstorms. Said she was tired of cleaning sand out of the window sills (on the inside). And so ended my weekend trips for hours of swimming, hiking and shuffleboard.

Even when I grew to adulthood and experienced more of the desert's weather challenges, I stood firm in my passion for the desert environment. My first newspaper job was in Barstow, where my bare feet would hit the cold tile floor every day at 5 a.m. with the temperature near freezing. It wasn't my idea of the perfect desert experience, but there were always enough old men with sun-scorched, leather-like skin around to keep the vision alive.

Then there were the ghost towns.

Just outside Barstow, it was Calico, the remnants of an old silver mining town. It has a mine shaft you can walk into and an old train to ride, plus a few authentic western buildings among the sand dunes. But it was renovated by the folks at Knott's Berry Farm several years back and is a bit too commercialized for my liking.

You want real desert and a real ghost town? Drive up Highway 395 past Ridgecrest, head east toward Death Valley and explore the adobe remains at Ballarat, where gold was discovered in the 1890s at the foot of the Panamint Mountains. I took the wife and kids out there in a van one hot, dusty summer afternoon. I was fascinated. They wondered where the coke machine was.

Keep heading north on 395 and you'll find the turnoff for ghost towns on both the California and Nevada sides of the highway. The best I've ever seen is Bodie, located east of the 395 and a few miles south of Bridgeport. But now we're getting out of the desert and up toward Lake Tahoe, which is another story.

For now, I'll stick with Menifee. We have a good mix of dry desert heat, sparkling lakes, Indian ruins and old mine shafts within easy driving distance. Yep, it's going to be quite a desert summer. Now where's the sunscreen?

Elevation Travel Wants You Out of Menifee

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Johnson) — Wed, 23 May 2012 17:44:00 +0000

Last March we took a 10-day vacation to Hawaii, taking in the ocean air, the palm trees, and sipping on mai tais at the Barefoot Bar.

Usually when we travel, we do all the booking and planning ourselves. But this time, we decided to call a travel agent.

Up until now, vacation planning always ran through the usual mish-mash of buying numerous travel books, going on websites to read peoples' complaints of stale toast and flat pillows, and zooming in on Google Maps to figure out where all the shopping and dining is at. I had enough of that. A vacation is supposed to be a vacation, right?

Not having worked with a travel agent before, I wasn't sure what to expect.

Melissa Land, who runs Elevation Travel, which serves the Menifee-area, likes to think of her business as a Full Service Personal Travel Consultant.

Nice. I like that description.

And it seems accurate, too. I provided her the dates of our travel and our suggested price range and a list of things that were important to us and she created a package for us. Moreover, she said, "If anything comes up, and I mean anything, call me first and I'll take care of it."

That's all I needed to hear.

As it turned out, we didn't have to call her. Everything went as planned. We were able to breeze by the people arguing at the airport ticket counter, and smiled as we left the couple from Nebraska complaining that they didn't get the room they had reserved. We got into our room and enjoyed that beautiful view of Waikiki Beach.

We did, however, call Melissa after we got settled in, having discovered a stack of brochures and magazines on our table showcasing the many wonders of Hawaii. The hike up to Manoa Falls looked like fun. The Waikiki Trolley sounded like something we wanted to have. Renting a Harley to ride around the island seemed like a great idea. And it looked like visiting the Arizona Memorial would require reservations.

So, I called Melissa and she took care of it, getting us all the necessary sign ups and tickets.

Since then, I've been using a travel agent for all my vacations.

"Hey Melissa!", I'll call her on the phone. "Get me a ticket to Seattle for such and such date".

"Right away", she'd say. "Oh, if you want to wait a week later to fly, you can save another $150.00 off air fare".

"Excellent", I'll say. "Let's do it".

When you consider the better deals they can get you, it doesn't really cost anymore to go through an agent, it's usually less.

And sure, I've used websites like Expedia and Travelocity to look for fares and book rooms, but you're still having to do all the planning yourself. I like being able to call or e-mail Melissa, tell her what I want, and expect it to happen.

It's nice to just snap your fingers and know it's going to get done.

I guess there are still some things a computer can't replace.

Call Melissa Land at Elevation Travel...

Elevation Travel
(877) 294-3918
bookit@goelevationtravel.com
http://www.goelevationtravel.com

A Doug's Life: 'Take Me Out to The Diamond'

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Sat, 19 May 2012 04:50:00 +0000

The stadium is located in nearby Lake Elsinore, but John Denver wouldn't mind annexing it for the city of Menifee.

"This is our stadium," said Denver, the mayor of Menifee, Friday night just outside the home dugout. "It's the closest pro ballpark we've got. We're working on that road (Newport Road) to get people in here easier. It should be called Menifee Stadium."

For the record, the stadium is called The Diamond, home to the Lake Elsinore Storm, a Class A minor league affiliate of the San Diego Padres. But as Denver noted, it's just a short drive over the hill on Newport/Railroad Canyon Road from Menifee.

And for this one night, Menifee could lay claim to it.

Denver threw out the first pitch and several Menifee residents and area dignitaries were on hand for Menifee Community Night at the stadium. The Storm gave them something to cheer about with a 6-3 victory over the visiting Bakersfield Blaze.

Denver clowned around with the big green mascot Thunder before the game, then sat behind the Storm dugout with a large Menifee contingent including Tom Fuhrman, mayor pro tem; Dorothy Wolons, president of the Menifee Valley Chamber of Commerce; and Chris Porrazzo, a deputy who was honored in pregame ceremonies as the Perris Sheriff's Station Officer of the Year.

One can hardly blame Menifee folks for taking advantage of a night out at the ballpark -- for a few reasons. One, it was Fireworks Friday. Two, it's just minutes from home. Three, you don't have to take out a loan to get through the gates.

At The Diamond, a reserved seat down the right or left field lines costs you just $9. Box seats near home plate set you back $10. Compare that to prices for the Padres, Angels or Dodgers, where you pay at least $17 to sit near the parking lot or $70-80 for a decent seat.

And where else can you hear little kids announce batters over the PA system and watch a giant green fuzzy creature lead youngsters across the outfield in "Thunder's Fun Run" between innings?

Minor league ballparks have a small-town charm you just can't find in a 50,000-seat major league stadium. Here, you can watch the major leaguers of tomorrow -- such names as Storm outfielder Rico Noel, who came into the game hitting .325 with 11 RBIs. But you can also walk down to the right field corner and do somersaults on a grassy berm with the little tykes.

To prevent an excessive amount of home runs to right field (only 310 feet to the foul pole), a wall approximately 30 feet high is the Storm's version of Fenway Park's Green Monster. Only this one is plastered with ads for everything from Juice it Up to Farmer John to the Lake Elsinore Animal Hospital.

Thunder the mascot was joined during the pregame festivities by a giant pink bunny named Jackpot. Andy Armadillo, the mascot for Texas Roadhouse, took part in the outfield Fun Run. While the grounds crew dragged the infield after the fifth inning, the crowd of 5,024 was entertained by a break dancing gorilla.

Yeah, this is minor league baseball. Don't you love it?

During the pregame festivities, kids gathered at the rail overlooking the Storm dugout. In L.A., San Diego or Anaheim, they would almost certainly be ignored -- or told to find a seat. Here, a "regular" named Ryan, age 7, was actually recognized and approached by outfielder Everett Williams, who chatted with the youngster about Legos.

"I'm part of the team," Ryan proudly stated.

The Storm put a smile on Ryan's face when they took the lead for good in the bottom of the seventh. After Chris Bisson drove home two runs with a single, designated hitter Tommy Medica hit his second home run of the game, a towering three-run shot to left field for a 6-2 lead.

Not even the dancing Baskin Robbins sundae could top that.

So if you're looking for a fun night out in the Menifee area, put the Newport Road traffic jam behind you and head on out to The Diamond. Tonight is Star Wars Night. Show up in costume and you get in free.

Where's my Darth Vader outfit?

A Doug's Life: Junior Writers Do Their Job

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Sun, 13 May 2012 08:31:00 +0000

Having constructed, edited, critiqued and graded written compositions for almost 40 years, I sometimes feel like I've read every possible combination of words in the English language.

People continue to surprise me, however.

It happened again last week, when I sat down with two other judges to evaluate the journalistic efforts of the children of Menifee.

Along with Gayle DuRivage of Painted Earth and Shirley Wible of Sun City Library, I was asked to serve as a judge to determine the winner in three age groups for a writing contest sponsored by Arts Council Menifee and Menifee 24/7. As a group, we were impressed by the creativity of many of our young people. For myself, it was fun to witness the dawn of a new generation of communicators.

It's encouraging to know that as young as kindergarten age, the journalists of tomorrow can translate thoughts from their little brains to their little hands when writing about "What I Like About Menifee." It's interesting also to note the words some use and the phrases they have picked up from the adults.

Fortunately, these youngsters -- ranging from kindergarten age to eighth grade -- have not yet fallen victim to the "short-hand curse," which is how I describe the way text messaging and social media are contributing to the mutilation of the English language. But give them time; there's always high school. Before long, they might very well be filling up their essays with LOL, BTW and SMH (if you don't know what I'm talking about, ask a teenager).

I like to think there's still time to save them. Heck, I still spend hours trying to rehabilitate college students in my role as journalism professor. If I can have moderate success there, how much more success can we have by praising the work of the little ones as they try to master the language and the skill of creative writing?

Parents, I urge you to join me in this effort to encourage and promote creative writing at a young age. Moreover, I ask you to join me in congratulating these contest winners, who will be honored Tuesday night at the Menifee City Council meeting:

Abbey D. Chea -- K-2 grades age group
Jonathan Hoefler -- grades 3-5
Daniel Diaz -- grades 6-8
Jemena Nesbitt -- special recognition award

These students will read their winning entries at Tuesday's council meeting, and their work will be published on Menifee 24/7. Therefore, I will not repeat their complete works here. But I'm here to tell you, these honorees and all the young people showed enthusiasm and creativity in telling us why they like our fair city.

Some obvious patterns emerged in their writing. Many of the students wrote about how quiet and safe they felt their neighborhood is. They love the parks -- especially La Ladera Park. Many of them seem very familiar with the stores and restaurants in the area (Game Stop is a crowd favorite).

As judges, we saw a variety of writing styles -- everything from straight essay format to poetry to acrostic (look it up -- your kid knows). We discovered how expansive some young vocabularies are (what first grader writes "furthermore" or "don't get me started" in a typical homework assignment?).

We also chuckled as we figured out the unique ways words are spelled by young people who try their best to sound out what they want to say. The execution wasn't always flawless, but the intent was very serious.

In the end, we were looking for how well the students captured the hometown feel of Menifee that we all hope our children would have. We were looking for young writers who could state their reasons clearly and support them with examples. But most of all, we simply wanted evidence that little kids still are passionate about park swings, pet stores and neighborhood friends -- not just video games.

Thanks, kids, for coming through for us. And parents, on Tuesday I'll have more about what your kids wrote in a special tribute to the things Menifee kids say.

A Doug's Life: Keep Me Out of the Sand Trap

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Fri, 04 May 2012 05:17:00 +0000

About a week ago, while covering the Sun City/Menifee Health Expo, I had my first experience with the Sun City Civic Association community center.

Oh, I had driven past the colorful marquee and sprawling complex at Sun City Boulevard and Cherry Hills Boulevard many times. From the street, you don’t get a clear picture of what all is available to seniors in that facility. Probably a good place for a bingo tournament, I figured, or maybe a square dance. Why would I ever want to hang out there with the old folks?

Then I remembered that, as a 56-year-old, I qualify for admission. Hey, I already get the senior discount at Denny’s. Retirement can’t be that far off, right?

So as I walked onto the grounds of the community center that day, I was actually kind of curious about what goes on there.

Simply put, I was impressed. They have a giant swimming pool, a huge lawn bowling area, shuffleboard courts, an arts and crafts center … pretty much everything you’d need to stay busy. Suddenly, I wanted to put down the notepad and shuffle a board or two. The memories of shuffleboard games with my grandfather at his “retirement home” came flooding back.

Then something off in the distance caught my eye – a golf course.

That made perfect sense. A retirement community such as Sun City, which was developer Del Webb’s model of perfect senior citizen living, had to have a golf course. Doesn’t everyone who’s retired – and some who aren’t – play golf?

One of these days, I plan to find out for myself. Granted, the golf course there in Sun City looks nice and inviting. So does the layout across town, by Menifee Lakes. But for now, I’ll stick to reading, genealogy and the grandkids as my leisure time activities.

OK, maybe a game of shuffleboard once in a while, but that’s where I draw the line.

Here’s the thing about golf. Basically, I’m a terrible golfer. I can hit a baseball that’s pitched to me, but for some reason, I have a heck of a time hitting a golf ball that’s just sitting there on the tee, daring me to take a swing.

Oh, I gave it a try. I spent one entire summer practicing on a Par 3 course (the JVs of golf), and I thought I was getting the hang of it. Then a friend dragged me out on a full-size, 18-hole course and told me, “Now you have to use your woods.”

You mean those other clubs in my bag that look like sledgehammers? How am I supposed to get one of those under the ball with enough force to drive it 80-100 yards? Worse yet, how am I supposed to even get the ball off the ground?

On that first attempt at a real course, I learned real fast what a mulligan was – like on my first swing. After a while, my buddy told me I got no more “do-overs.” About the third hole, a guy asked if he could join our twosome. He lasted one hole before politely asking if he could play through. Guess he didn’t like watching me kill worms with my ground balls.

A couple days later, I told my uncle I had tried the big course. An avid golfer, he asked what my score was.

“A 75,” I said.

“You shot a 75?” he replied in amazement. “Doug, that’s great! And on your first try?”

“Well,” I responded, “we quit after nine holes.”

So there you have it – the reason I’m taking a hard look at lawn bowling and backgammon. Oh sure, I’ll probably give golf another try when I feel like four hours of torture. For now, I’ll stick to a game of catch in the back yard with a 3-year-old.

Bye Bye Cookies and Soda; Hello Gym

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 16:04:00 +0000

In a Dec. 30 column listing my New Year's Resolutions, I pledged to start working out regularly again and get back to healthy eating habits.

Is it January yet?

Talk about getting off to a rough start. The whole plan was to lose the 15 pounds I had gained since having foot surgery last summer, which forced me out of the gym for quite a while. The good news at that time: I had kept off five of the 20 pounds I had lost a year ago, when this whole fitness thing started.

The bad news: Those five pounds are back. Not only that, another five jumped on along with them, making me five pounds heavier than I was in the beginning. (Well, not really in the beginning. I think I was something like 8 pounds, 10 ounces when this whole thing really started, but you know what I mean).

OK, so now for the excuses. Sure, I have some. You think I'm just going to admit I'm a lazy old man?

Excuse No. 1 -- As soon as toe surgery for a bone fusion took place last July, I went from five days a week in the gym to 24/7 at home on crutches. Or, as my granddaughter Riley called them, my "crunches." Every five minutes it was, "Pop, you need your crunches?" No, Riley, I'll just sit here and feel sorry for myself. Run along, now.

But even though I couldn't work out in the gym for months because of the swelling and healing in my foot, I figured the lack of a workout with weights, cycles, swimming, etc., would be offset by the workout I got on my crutches. Man, I got pretty good on those things. I raced everywhere on them. I had to be burning major calories. Unfortunately, this leads us to the next excuse.

Excuse No. 2 -- Although those thousands of "steps" I took on the crutches was a decent cardio workout, it also screwed up my shoulder. When I finally got off the darn things, I had more pain lifting my arms above my head than in my foot. The doctor's diagnosis: A strained rotator cuff, probably caused by hoisting myself off the ground over and over for months on end, with only my arms to support the weight.

Excuse No. 3 -- Realizing I still couldn't walk normally and now could barely reach back to pull my seat belt across my slowly expanding waistline, I let the frustration get to me. Rather than maintaining the calorie-counting regimen that had worked so well, with protein shakes and lots of fresh fruits and veggies, I gave in to the "Hey, things are on hold anyway, so where's the cookies?" line of thinking.

The other day, remembering my New Year's pledge and feeling somewhat better both physically and mentally, I decided enough was enough. Inspired by a sign of increased healing in my reconstructed toe and by a shot of steroids in my shoulder, I set this week as my return to the gym -- and the salad, apples and small portions of fish and chicken. Sadly, this also means saying goodbye once again to soda, fast food and my all-time favorite -- chocolate chip cookies.

For the record, I don't start this until Wednesday. Right now, I'm enjoying the last few days of ice cream sandwiches, cheeseburgers and Dr. Pepper. But boy, in three more days, I'm attacking those extra 25 pounds like a pit bull in a meat factory.

Four months ago, when I was still new to Menifee, getting back into shape was a process for which I promised to give my loyal readers regular updates. I believe the promo on the Menifee 24/7 Facebook page was something like, "Read about Doug's resolutions and see how he does."

Well, I do believe I am now kinder to others. Beyond that, it's back to square one with those New Year's Resolutions.

So if you see me riding a 10-speed around town (remember, I can't run too well) or stocking up on carrots at the local grocery store, cheer me on. Summertime is coming, and I don't want to be a blob. I still plan on getting those horseback riding lessons, and I would hate to climb on and send some fine steed to its knees.

A Doug's Life: "I'll Get You, You Rascal"

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 05:42:00 +0000

Springtime has arrived in Menifee, and the critters are coming out to play.

It started with rabbits. Cute little things that run (hop) in bunches around the neighborhood. I have no problem with them -- maybe because they've stayed out of my back yard.

Unfortunately, other varmints haven't.

Several weeks ago, I noticed a rather large hole at one end of the dirt embankment at the back of our property. "Snake," was my first thought. I started to peer down into the hole until I had visions of a giant python clamping onto my shnoz.

"Let's just wait and see what happens," I said to myself, and walked away.

Sometime later, about 50 feet across the embankment, I discovered a similar but somewhat smaller hole. Now I'm thinking Monty Python has completed a secret passage roughly the size of the Holland Tunnel, in snake scale. Now I'm concerned. But still, I haven't seen any creature emerge from its front or back door.

As time went on, I was reminded of the arrival of animals and insects that were relatively dormant during the cold winter months. As soon as we had a couple warm days, I noticed that our neighbor's pretty violet ground cover had become Hotel California for approximately 9 million bees. Next, after forgetting to close the screen door a couple times while letting the breeze in, I inadvertently invited a clan of "Daddy Longlegs" (the scientific term) into the house.

But still no snakes, nor anything bigger than an insect. Only the haunting evidence of such.

Then came the frantic barks of our Golden Retriever, Binny, at some unseen enemy out back. Why is it that the beast can sense danger a mile away, yet can't hold a "sit" command for more than two seconds? Anyway, I knew something was out there. And when I saw Binny digging up the big hole and sticking his nose in there, I almost expected him to come out with only half a snout. But nothing.

The next time my gardener came around, I showed him the first hole. His response:

"You got a raccoon."

"Are you sure?" I responded. "Have you seen him?"

"Nope," he replied. "But there's raccoon poop all along the base of your fence."

Apparently, the experts can tell raccoon poop from that of a dog, cat, weasel or any number of other critters. I took his word for it. The hole is now filled in and the gardener is on the lookout. The smaller hole, he said, is home to a gopher.

"I'll get him," he said.

I trust him, but now he's got me thinking. It isn't even May yet. What do I have to look forward to? Coyotes? Scorpions? Rattlers? This is pretty much the desert, right?

"Prairie dogs, maybe," said my gardener. "Beautiful creatures. Wait 'til you see one standing there on his hind legs, just staring at you."

Yeah, I can wait.

Trust me, I'm no stranger to back yard creatures. At our home in Temple City, possums were frequent visitors. Nasty things. I would be awakened by the sound of our previous dog, an ornery yellow lab, tossing around a possum like a rag doll. I'd find them dead in the yard. One even ended up in the house, finding convenient entry through the dog door.

I chased birds, mice, rats and possums out of our old house. One time, in the dark, my bare foot stepped on a half-eaten squirrel. But raccoons and snakes? Don't know if I'm ready for that.

As I've said many times before, something about this town appeals to me. Much of that appeal has to do with animals -- horses, especially. But no horse has ever tried to reconstruct my back planter, and I doubt one ever would.

As for Mr. Raccoon, well ... I'm not going down without a fight. Bring it on, you little masked mischief maker. Two of us are meeting in that back yard and one is coming out in a cage.

Wonder if I'm claustrophobic.

A Doug's Life: Lessons Learned in Menifee

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 23:48:00 +0000

It's hard to believe, but it has now been exactly six months since our family first arrived in town.

OK, so we didn't come across the plains in a covered wagon or anything like that. We didn't fly in from a foreign country. Menifee isn't all that different from a lot of Southern California cities I've lived in and visited.

Of course, it does have its own personality, its own unique individuals and other factors that make it like nowhere else. So as I look back on the events of the last six months, here's a list of "10 Things I've Learned About Menifee":

1. Since 2008 it has officially been part of the city of Menifee, but it's Sun City to the folks who live there. Menifee city officials may need Sun City residents' tax dollars for the "greater good" of the community as a whole, but they're not taking their name away, darn it.

It's kind of like the five boroughs of New York, on a much smaller scale. Whether Sun City is the Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens or whatever of Menifee, I'm not sure. I just know that if you venture into Brooklyn and talk about being in New York, the locals will correct you. Same thing here with Sun City.

2. The night skies above Menifee have stars -- lots of them. I had almost forgotten such things existed.

3. The left-turn lane on westbound Newport Road leading up to Haun Road is one of the longest I've ever seen. At one point, it splits into two lanes. But guess what? It still isn't long enough.

If they stick one more business in the Countryside Marketplace, they'd better add a monorail line while they're at it. You know that vacant lot across the street where they're supposed to some day build another marketplace? Better make it a parking structure instead.

4. All these new housing developments make a three-car garage seem so luxurious. Wow, they even split them into two garages, one on each side!

So what? If you're like me, you'll never fit a car in there. It's just more room to pack a bunch of junk. How does one audition for the TV show "Hoarders"?

5. You don't want to drive too far west on Holland Road past Tom Fuhrman's ranch after a good rain. What starts out as a fun little "dip" in the dirt road quickly resembles Lake Michigan. Bring fins and a snorkel.

6. It took me a month to realize I wasn't doing that bad a job picking up dog poop in the back yard. It's the dairy farm over the hill. You get used to it.

7. In terms of population explosion, Temecula became the new Moreno Valley. Then Murrieta became the new Temecula. Now Menifee is becoming the new Murrieta. What will be the new Menifee? Winchester?

8. Apparently, man-made lakes are supposed to be a sign of luxury living. Build a housing tract in Menifee, dig a lake and fill it up. And they do look nice. But you have to throw the fish back after you catch them! What am I supposed to eat? Coyote meat is too tough.

9. People complain about the lack of restaurants in town. See, I told you we should be allowed to eat the fish.

10. Overall, it's been a fun six months -- and I haven't even climbed onto a saddle yet. I have a feeling the best is yet to come.

My Year as Ms. Menifee Valley Chamber

noreply@blogger.com (Tina Walker) — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 16:45:00 +0000

This last year I've been honored to serve the Menifee Valley Chamber of Commerce and the City of Menifee as Ms. Menifee Valley Chamber of Commerce. Crowned last April by Southwest Pageants, I have spent my tenure dedicating my time to Menifee. In total 5 Chamber Queens were crowned last year and I've had the distinct pleasure of working with all of them for the benefit of Menifee and it's residents.

At the City's Independence Day Celebration, we hosted a "Kiss From a Queen" Kissing Booth to raise funds for the Menifee Valley Community Cupboard. We raised over $100 that day and had a great time sharing information with attendees about the Cupboard and the community.

Ribbon cuttings are one of our primary responsibilities when volunteering for the Chamber. But it's certainly not all work! We have a great time at every event, welcoming new businesses to the community, teaching them about all the city has to offer and meeting their customers and staff. All of the Queens love answering questions about Menifee and do our best to help connect people with other business owners that can help them.

I've also had the pleasure of attending numerous events around town. Menifee Action Group held a reception to welcome our new County Supervisor Marion Ashley and to thank our previous County Supervisor Jeff Stone. I was honored to attend and get to spend some time with Mr. Stone, learning about our community. Besides ribbon cuttings I have enjoyed attending Menifee Rotary, Menifee City Council Meetings, Menifee Planning Commission Meetings, the Menifee Skate Park organization meeting, NAFE meetings, Menifee City Birthday Party and so much more. Taking time to learn about the city has been very rewarding for me!

Working in conjunction with a number of local businesses as well as my employer, Clear Digital Media, Inc., I've been a part of raising money for the charity that I've chosen to represent, Menifee Valley Community Cupboard. In January we held a Casino Night and over the course of the year I've been fortunate enough to contribute in raising nearly $2000 for the Cupboard. But my mission was more than raising money for the Cupboard; my mission is to raise awareness in the community for this organization and others like it. I've learned that one person can make a difference.

One of the highlights of the year was singing at Menifee Valley Community Cupboard's fundraiser, "Celebrity Karaoke". It was so much fun being able to be silly and ridiculous, while raising money! Not only did I enjoy performing, but I loved the performances by other community members including Mayor John Denver and his wife Linda, Dr. Johnathan Greenberg, Superintendent of Perris Union High School District, and the winner of the Most Talented Award, Menifee Planning Commissioner Bill Zimmerman. Even though I had the best "backup band", we all lost out to Brian Walker of Farmers Insurance for Entertainer of the Year Award!

The Menifee Valley Chamber of Commerce hosts 12 Chamber Mixers a year, all held the first Wednesday evening of the month. Open to the public, these mixers are a great way to meet other business owners, managers, elected officials, philanthropic volunteers and community members. Attending these mixers has been not only delightful, but filled with networking opportunities for business contacts and opportunities to help others. The Chamber also holds a Coffee Mixer in the mornings every second Wednesday of the month. The people I've met and built relationships with at these events have been so wonderful!

On Saturday, April 14, I will have the great pleasure of crowning our next Ms. Menifee Valley Chamber at the 2012 Ms./Mrs./Senior Menifee Valley Chamber Pageant, presented by Southwest Pageants. I look forward to passing this honor on to our next Ms. Queen and wish her congratulations on her new title. It is with my deepest, sincere gratitude that I end my reign and I wish to thank everyone who welcomed me, encouraged me, and blessed me this past year. While I take the responsibility seriously, that doesn't mean I didn't have a great deal of fun and take opportunities for silliness along the way! If it's not fun, then why do it, right? I've certainly enjoyed every minute of it!

A Doug's Life: Dodgers or Padres, L.A. or San Diego... Must I Choose?

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 07:14:00 +0000

Yes, it's that time of year again. Today marks the baseball season opener for the Los Angeles Dodgers -- a team I rooted for growing up and later covered for nearly 10 years as a sports writer and columnist.

Oh, yeah. I neglected to mention that the Dodgers' opponent today -- and the home team for the four-game series -- is the San Diego Padres.

And here I sit in Menifee, caught in the middle.

I have written previously about the identity crisis I see for the community of Menifee. It seems you can't decide whether to be:

-- A retirement community with some nice new homes on the other side of the tracks (OK, freeway).

-- A tradition-rich farming community that is changing with the times.

-- A few thousand Generation Y'ers who have set up camp in tract homes and are ready to take over.

Obviously, the goal is to be a successful combination of all three. Hopefully, that's possible. But what about when it comes to sports teams? In that area, it's all or nothing, right?

Is this a Dodgers town or a Padres town? Or even an Angels town?

I need to know, because this whole sports fan thing is merely one aspect of a bigger picture. As a Menifee resident for six months now, I feel the need to declare my metropolitan allegiance. So either I'm a transplanted, loyal Angeleno or a born-again, relocated San Diegan.

Help me out here. Which side of the fence am I supposed to be on?

I've seen several Padres decals on cars and SD caps in the crowds around here. It took a while for me to realize we're only a little more than 70 miles from San Diego. Frankly, I haven't been down there since I moved here.

I guess I still identify with the L.A. crowd, because I spend a few days a week driving west on the 60 Freeway. But hey, Dodger Stadium is only 83 miles and about 90 minutes from here. That's not exactly a cross-country trip. And if you're an Albert Pujols fan and like a somewhat safer environment, Angel Stadium is the closest of all three ballparks -- just over 50 miles and an hour's drive.

So am I supposed to be a San Diego guy, an L.A. guy or -- gulp -- an Orange County guy?

I just want to fit in with the crowd. OK, so I may travel around town wearing a Chicago Cubs cap. Sorry, I'm not giving that up. It's the same underdog obsession that had me rooting for the Clippers before they were good. But I am willing to jump on the Padres bandwagon if it will get me a membership card in the Menifee Insiders Club.

It's human nature to want to belong. I will never turn my back on the Dodgers, but I'm willing to give the Padres a chance. On a larger scale, I am willing to start hanging out in Old Town and Mission Bay if it makes me one of the guys.

While awaiting your advice, I will revert to my "objective" sports writing method of watching baseball. There will be "no cheering in the press box" today while I take note of what both squads are doing.

I will also be giving thanks that I no longer have to file 800 words on the contest by 11 p.m.

A Doug's Life: Time to Get Involved

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 21:20:00 +0000

I blame all this on my daughter, Megan.

First, she took two of my grandchildren away from me by moving from our home in the San Gabriel Valley to a remote outpost called Menifee. Seems husband Jeff got a job servicing airplanes on March Air Reserve Base. So what? Is that a reason for me to drive over an hour to see the little weasels?

Then, after convincing me that Menifee isn't such a bad place after all, she found us the home we now live in out here. We weren't having too much luck on our own, but she goes online and finds us the perfect place in five minutes. Go figure.

And finally, just as I was deciding Menifee would be a nice, quiet place to sit back and relax between teaching college courses, she sends me a link to this article saying a website called Menifee 24/7 is looking for freelance writers.

Thanks, Megan. Now I've got my hand in everything, from the Chamber of Commerce to the Rotary Club to the Menifee Valley Historical Association and every club in between. I spend my "free" time stomping across local farms, speaking to community groups and riding in hot air balloons.

But you know what? It sure beats the life of a couch potato. Semi-retirement can wait. There will be plenty of time later to enjoy the desert sunrise.

I urge you to join me and get involved, if you aren't already.

You don't have to write for the local news blog to make connections around town. And you don't have to jump from one activity to the next. Pick one community organization or local cause and be a volunteer. This isn't just farmland anymore, you know. There is much to do in many areas, and more folks are needed to do it.

As I've stated before, this community is an interesting mix of residents, including:

-- Old-timers from the pioneer farm days.

-- Retirees living in the Sun City "core" of the community.

-- Commuters who are here just long enough to catch 40 winks each night.

-- Soccer moms.

Each group is fairly well represented around town, but often only in their comfort zone. The pioneer families run the historical association. The Sun City senior citizens support their community center activities enthusiastically. The soccer moms chat via community Facebook groups and cart their kids around to sports events, dance class and play dates. (Sorry, Megan. No disrespect intended).

There's nothing wrong with that, but I would suggest more of a blending of cultures to really increase community interaction in Menifee. Hey, if I can sit through a city council meeting one day and attend a Menifee Arts Council fund-raiser the next, anyone can do it. Remember, I was a sports writer, which means I have limited social skills.

The way I see it, community service organizations and other local groups would benefit from a wider talent pool. At the same time, the members would benefit from expanding their horizons. Meanwhile, the whole community might just draw a little bit closer together.

So think about it, will you? You have so many options. Besides the ones previously mentioned, there's the Friends of the Sun City Library; the Community Cupboard charity; Sun City K9 Adoptions; and more youth sports programs than you can count.

You don't have to be like Linda Denver, whom I believe has shown up at every Menifee community gathering I have ever attended, but I bet you can do more than you are now. Like the community service ads say, "Make a Difference." Chances are, you will have more fun than you ever dreamed.

If not, you can always help me chase Megan's kids around the block. Somebody has to do it.

A Doug's Life: Country Roads Don't Always "Take Me Home"

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 05:53:00 +0000

When you yearn for the rural appeal of places like this, you have to take the bad with the good.

No, I'm not talking about the smell that wafts our way from the dairy farm every once in a while. Nope, not even the "road apples" one must watch for around the horse stables. Not the skunks, the rattlesnakes nor the coyotes.

I'm talking about the roads you people have out here.

Remember, I'm a transplanted city boy. Where I come from, they don't put brand new housing developments next to 100-year-old farms. Back home, a rough road is a three-lane boulevard with a few potholes. Out here, it's a cow path that doubles as an avenue.

Granted, the tremendous growth in this community in recent years has resulted in more paved roads, wider roads and faster ways to get from one end of the valley to the other. Unfortunately, this whole transportation issue remains problematic, at best.

As we all know, you're still stuck in the middle if you live near Holland Road and want to get from one side of the 215 to the other. Your choices are the usually congested Newport Road bridge to the north, the unusually narrow Scott Road bridge to the south, or a catapult.

And don't get me started on why I can't drive from my home in Hidden Meadows straight up Menifee Road to my daughter's house in Heritage Lake. If they don't soon plow through the 100 yards or so of rocky landscape that separates the two sections of that road, I may have to buy me a jeep and go for it.

But that was nothing compared to my latest adventure, which occurred Monday morning while I was trying to navigate my Toyota Camry south on Haun Road past Scott.

Remember, it had rained hard the night before. If you know that area, you probably know the trouble I encountered. Still being a bit of a drifter in these parts, I wasn't prepared.

It was supposed to be a simple drive over to the Bouris ranch for an interview. I looked up the address and punched it into my trusty iPhone GPS. Coming from the intersection of Newport and Haun, where I started out after a few errands, the gadget told me to head directly south on Haun, which would become Zeiders Road, where the ranch is. A piece of cake, I figured.

I guess the GPS was a stranger to Zeiders Road, too.

About 50 yards after I crossed Scott Road heading south, the pavement ended and I found myself on a narrow dirt road. No problem, I figured. I couldn't make out any street addresses, but I was pretty sure the ranch would be just a house or two down the road.

A bumpy quarter-mile or so later, I realized I was the only car on the road. Worse yet, the dirt road had become a mud hole. I weaved through a mine field of puddles and ditches OK, but suddenly I was wishing I had brought the pickup truck instead. A horse, even. What kind of cowboy wannabe am I?

Finally, about the time I decided it would take longer to turn around and drive back through the mud than keep going, the middle of the road smoothed out quite a bit. I tried to follow some tire tracks I could make out in front of me, navigating between some rather deep ditches on either side of the road.

That's when I lost tire traction almost completely. Sliding from one side of the road to the other, it was like driving on ice. What could be worse, I thought? How about getting stuck in a rut and having to be towed out of there?

Fortunately, that didn't happen. For 20 or 30 treacherous yards, I kept on the gas pedal and slithered along at about 5 mph until I made it to where the pavement resumed -- right at the Bouris ranch.

Lo and behold, I now know you can approach the ranch from Keller Road to the south and avoid the dirt (and mud) patch. That's the route the locals take.

But hey, I survived. I didn't have to step out of the car in the middle of the quagmire and sink in up to my knees. I didn't need a tow truck to haul my vehicle out of there, or even a team of horses. Next time, I'll check out the landscape first.

Meanwhile, I still can't drive from my house to my daughter's house as the crow flies, and that stinks worse than the dairy farm.

A Doug's Life: Let the Writing Begin

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 22:20:00 +0000

As a former newspaperman and current college journalism professor, I have a certain affinity for the written word.

Professionally, I have spent the last 35 years figuring out the best way to assemble written words. I enjoy teaching others the many options they have in doing so. At the same time, I respect the rules of grammar and punctuation that require a certain amount of discipline in writing clearly and concisely.

So on the one hand, I cringe every time I read something with a misplaced comma, a sentence fragment or a subject that doesn't agree with a verb. "Text talk" drives me crazy. It's before, not B4. Are we rewriting the language with terms such as LOL, OMG and BTW?

On the other hand, I appreciate the fact that the Internet and text messaging have renewed interest among young people in reading and writing. I tell my college students that as long as they keep the LOLs in their informal chat and out of their job applications, I will look the other way if they promise to keep writing.

In a strange sense, it seems that all this modern technology was God's gift to the human race to help save the written word. Some things simply are better expressed through artful use of the language, giving careful thought to a sentence or phrase that might be mutilated if blurted out orally.

But even more important, we should be encouraged to write thoughtfully and often in order to develop our skills of creativity.

That's why I love the idea of the Menifee 24/7 and Arts Council Menifee Writing Contest.

Announced at Tuesday night's Menifee City Council meeting, this contest is open to students from kindergarten through eighth grade, in three age categories. Students are invited to enter the contest with an essay on the theme "Why I Like Menifee."

Awesome. That's pretty much been the theme of this column for the five months I've been in town. I can't wait to read the youth's take on it.

Think about it. Most of the writing done by young people falls into two categories: Assigned school projects and text messages or Facebook posts. The first sometimes is too structured and complex to be any fun. The second is fun, but not structured enough to develop true writing skills.

This contest allows students to express their true feelings about their hometown, with just the right mix of factors. The rules of the contest and spirit of the competition should motivate them to write effectively. The subject matter should evoke the free expression we often see in their texts, blogs and status updates.

And of course the lure of prizes doesn't hurt. The winners will receive a gift bag of prizes from local merchants. In addition, they will have lunch with Mayor John Denver; receive a certificate of achievement from the City of Menifee; and have their entry published here on Menifee 24/7.

So parents, make sure your children know about this contest. Encourage them to enter. Students, sharpen those pencils, burn up that computer keyboard, let your imaginations loose.

No matter how many gadgets are invented to enhance communication, people always will have the urge to send written messages to others. You don't have to make a living of it, like some of us, but the more effectively you can do it, the more successful you will be in life. Here's a great chance to practice.

Besides, it could be fun!

A Doug's Life: There's Nothing Like March Madness on the Big Screen(s)

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 06:55:00 +0000

I enjoy March Madness as much as the next guy, but I do not participate in office pools.

For me, trying to predict the upsets in a college basketball tournament is as frustrating as trying to play the game myself. As a teenager, I tore my Achilles tendon playing hoops. As a college newspaper sports editor, I took a Basketball Theory class and was laughed off the court.

These days, after three foot surgeries, I'm lucky I can walk. I doubt I could beat Betty White in a game of HORSE.

Unfortunately, I'm not much better at predicting the outcome of a tournament that pairs off 72 teams from across the country. I mean, what makes one decide that an upset win by No. 15 seed Lehigh over No. 2 seed Duke is more likely than No. 15 Detroit beating No. 2 Kansas?

Whether you hang on the outcome of every game in your carefully completed bracket or simply enjoy fast action and a good game, one thing's certain:

Thanks to the tournament's mass exposure through multiple TV networks, watching the tournament on a big screen is incredibly convenient and enjoyable.

To get through the first two frantic days of the tournament last week, CBS partnered with TBS, TNT and TruTV to make sure every game was covered. As long as you kept fresh batteries in your remote and had a quick trigger finger, you didn't miss a thing.

Most notably, there were the upsets. There always are upsets. But two No. 15 seeds beating No. 2 seeds on the same day? Norfolk State beating Missouri was surprising enough, but Lehigh defeating Duke was a real shocker.

Upsets occur in every NCAA tournament. In a seven-game series, Duke would dispose of Lehigh like yesterday's trash. But in a single-elimination format, the underdog always has a chance.

So how does one handicap the remaining 16 teams? Because I don't gamble on upsets in trying to win office pools, I usually go with the No. 1 seed that seems hottest in the tournament -- unless one of my personal favorites is still in it and I think they have a shot.

Being a North Carolina fan, I thought I had the best of both worlds this year. The Tar Heels are seeded No. 1 and they're playing well. After relatively easy wins over Vermont and Creighton, UNC is headed for a Midwest Regional semifinal with Ohio on Friday.

Now for the bad news. Tar Heels point guard Kendall Marshall, the team's offensive leader, broke his wrist in the Creighton game and underwent surgery on Monday. Suddenly, I'm not so confident about the Tar Heels taking the trophy. Being realistic, I would now go with Kentucky, seeded No. 1 in the South Regional and playing Indiana on Friday.

So you've got four games on Thursday and four more on Friday. Each night, two games will be going on at once. If you don't want to deal with the remote and have a craving for food and beverage better than the stuff languishing in your fridge, The Beer Hunter in Menifee's Countryside Marketplace is the place to go.

The Beer Hunter serves much more than beer -- although it certainly has that, with a fine selection of craft beers including offerings from Craft Brewing of Lake Elsinore and Black Market Brewing of Temecula. It also offers a menu of food choices including appetizers, burgers, pizza and salads. Although it is considered a sports "pub and grill," The Beer Hunter caters to families and people of all ages.

"The atmosphere here is a great mix for all kinds of people," said Bill Gillette, manager at The Beer Hunter. "There's no extra loud music, lots of families, and like our saying goes, 'If it's not on at the Beer Hunter, it's not on.' "

That's in reference to the 32 big screen TVs, which feature a variety of sports events every night of the week. This week, although patrons will be able to watch all kinds of NBA, NHL and motorsports action, the focus will be on college basketball.

On Thursday, the Beer Hunter offers Happy Hour from 3-6 p.m. and again from 9 p.m. to closing. So if you want a place to relax, get some grub and drinks and watch the Wisconsin-Syracuse and Louisville-Michigan State games on adjacent screens, this is the place to be. And if you want to stick around to catch both Cincinnati-Ohio State and Florida-Marquette later in the evening, The Beer Hunter has you covered.

Then if you want to check back on Friday night and see how my Tar Heels do against Ohio, you're guaranteed to have a good time. I can't promise a North Carolina victory, but I can personally vouch for the Beer Hunter Burger.

A Doug's Life: People Who Need People...

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 06:09:00 +0000

For five months now, I've been writing about the new things I've experienced and dreamed about since my move to Menifee. There's been a lot of talk about Menifee's back roads, horse stables, lakes, even a hot air balloon ride.

None of that is why I came out here. Those things are simply icing on the cake.

I wouldn't be here were it not for family. That's the reason I first heard of this place, the reason I began visiting this place, and ultimately the reason I moved to this place.

I can talk (and write) all I want about Menifee's blue skies, starry nights and outdoor life. But when it comes right down to it, it's all about who you're with.

It's about the people -- especially those about whom we care the most.

I was reminded of this last weekend, when my 2-year-old grandson Cameron was hospitalized with pneumonia. My daughter Megan, her husband Jeff and their two children, Cameron and Kaylee, were among the primary reasons we moved here. They too live in Menifee, as do two of our other children and one grandchild. We haven't brought the whole clan yet, but we're working on it.

And when we all get together, it doesn't really matter where it is. We feel the love. That's why it was so difficult to watch that little boy squirm in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and refusing to eat or drink.

Cameron is much better this week. He had two helpings of mom's lasagna the other day, is running all around the house, and is once again bugging Pop for the use of my iPhone (who knew they had all these apps?).

But for a scary couple of days, it was as if our cute little Cameron was missing. Suddenly, I didn't give a darn about my surroundings and leisure time activities. They could've stuck me in a New York high rise or a cave in Arkansas and I wouldn't have cared, just as long as that little kid was smiling.

I think that's as it should be. I hope that's the way it is, or someday will be, for people everywhere, including of course the good people of Menifee. As the community grows and the new continues to mingle with the old, we should forget about our surroundings, put aside any distractions, and simply get to know and appreciate each other.

It has been my privilege the last few months to get to know some great community leaders here. You all should be proud of the individuals who donate their time in service to others. And you know what? The more service they do, the happier they seem. I think there's a lesson to be learned there.

I appreciate the warm welcome my family and I have received since moving here. I am excited about the community organizations I am becoming involved with, and I cherish the friendships I am making. But I don't want to limit my circle of new friends to public officials and community activists. I want to get to know the guy on the street corner, the person across the aisle in the supermarket, the lady walking her dog next to the dry creek bed.

You don't have to be my toddler grandson, sick in a hospital bed, for me to care about you. You don't have to be president of the Chamber of Commerce, superintendent of schools, or even a horse rancher (wow, can't believe I just said that).

You just have to be willing to reach out, smile and talk to one another. Show that you care. That kind of caring is what's impressed me most about Menifee -- not the "great adventure." I've seen it all around me, from my closest friends and family here to the average Joe I pass on the sidewalk.

People are what will make this community rise or fall in the years to come. That can be said for pretty much anywhere else, I suppose. We can moan about gas prices, presidential candidates or the high unemployment rate. Or we can forget about our troubles and look for a way to help someone else.

So if you see me out and about in these parts -- study my cowboy profile shot, which my wife hates -- smile and say hello. I really will appreciate it. After all, horses don't talk.

A Doug's Life: Time Management

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 22:58:00 +0000

I'm back.

It's been a long two weeks since my last entry here -- the account of my exciting trip into the skies over Menifee in a hot air balloon. Since then, I have been buried under a pile of term papers. It seems that when you're a college professor, students actually expect to receive a grade for their work in a timely manner.

A couple things: First, I wasn't literally buried under a pile of papers. In this electronic era, all assignments submitted to me are digital. So in reality, my in box was full. Second, it's partly my fault for procrastinating.

Ah, yes, the focus of this column: Procrastination.

Why do so many of us put off until tomorrow (or next week, or next month) what we could do today? Unfortunately, there is no easy answer, and the contributing factors are different for each person.

Here are some of mine:

-- A change in surroundings often is refreshing, but also can be a distraction. I've written previously about my fascination with the new opportunities Menifee presents to a guy like me. Yet sometimes I get so busy dreaming about horse ranches, fish ponds and abandoned mines that I forget to actually visit them. Or I visit them and put off writing about them. I think the hot air balloon column was an exception because the crisp, fresh air stimulated my brain cells.

-- Once a sports writer, always a sports writer. I can be sitting at my desk, working on a column or grading papers, and the Clippers basketball game beckons. Suddenly, I'm writing about a three-point play instead of the Countryside Marketplace. Focus, dude!

-- For every time-saving device the electronic age gives us, it presents us with a device that is equally as time-consuming, if not more. On one hand, the automatic insert and "cut and paste" functions of computerized word processing save me lots of time in writing and editing. On the other hand, it's hard to stay focused when your iPhone keeps buzzing, announcing the arrival of a new email, Facebook posting, tweet or some other message out of cyberspace.

-- From the window of my second-floor office at home, I have a great view of the green hillsides and blue skies of Menifee. This is why I moved from Temple City, where my view of the nearby San Gabriel Mountains was blocked by the brick wall of a Ralphs supermarket. Unfortunately, window gazing soon becomes daydreaming, and I'm off track again.

-- If you're going to become a teacher, choose a subject in which the student's work can easily be graded. Thanks to electronic devices, multiple choice quizzes, math problems and a variety of student work can be scanned for correct answers. If nothing else, a teacher can have an assistant help check the answers. If you teach journalism, pretty much every assignment is an essay. The teacher must read, comprehend, analyze content, check grammar and punctuation ... it takes time, people!

But enough with the sob stories. I love what I do, and I must admit that what I both teach and do as a second job require discipline on deadline. Although it's hectic at times, I thrive on the adrenaline rush.

That said, another factor comes into play in order to avoid procrastination and frustration -- something called balance.

In short, it's important not to take on more than you can handle. And if you must, do what I'm always telling my students to do when writing news stories -- prioritize. Accomplish the most important things each day and leave the rest for another time.

And here, I think, is the real key: Deciding what the most important things really are. Living out here where there's a bit more room to breathe, I'm starting to figure that out. This is why, even though I'm still behind in grading papers, I am content to take time out to play with the grandkids, or drive the countryside, or just sit outside and enjoy the view.

Yes, I'm a procrastinator, but I'm OK with that as long as I'm delaying one thing for something that's more beneficial at the moment. But if I take two weeks between columns again, someone poke me with a stick. There are limits to everything.

A Doug's Life: "Oh, Would You Like to Ride in My Beautiful Balloon..."

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 20:53:00 +0000

And I thought I was afraid of heights.

Well yes, I'm still reluctant to stand on the top step of a ladder. And no, I wouldn't jump out of a hot air balloon basket at 7,000 feet, as a guy did right before my eyes today.

(Yes, he had a parachute).

But you know what? Floating high above the Menifee Valley for more than an hour really didn't scare me at all. Actually, it was a breathtaking experience that gave me a new perspective on the landscape, a better understanding of just how vast our world is, and an incredible sense of peace.

It all started before dawn, in an open field not far from Perris Valley Airport. There we were -- nine adventurous souls, surrounded by tumbleweeds, watching our pilot, a two-man ground crew and a "jumper" prepare for liftoff.

Our hosts at Above the Rest Hot Air Ballooning had thought of everything. Dawn Chapton, owner of the company, had booked our flight and checked the weather conditions the night before. Our three-man crew, headed by pilot Phil Brandt, had driven us out to a remote location where obstacles were few and the wind conditions were favorable.

The wind, you see, has everything to do with hot air ballooning. Before leaving the company's home base, where it also provides skydiving services, Brandt had sent up two small helium balloons to check Mother Nature's steering system.

So there we were, seeing nothing but sagebrush and hearing only the wake-up call of a lonely rooster somewhere out beyond the boulders. Brandt, after joking that he was on his third week on the job, admitted he's been doing this for 22 years, with more than 5,000 hours in the air. Or, as he said, "since God's dog was a puppy."

I decided that was good enough for me, so with my daughters Jill and Megan, I waited patiently for the crew to roll out the multi-colored, 210,000-cubic-foot nylon balloon and fill it with air.

"Remember," I told myself. "You wanted to do this." Well, at least I said I did, in a column about the wild blue yonder above Menifee. But that was back in December, while writing in the comfort of my den. This was today, and the balloon was filling up real fast.

Sitting on the ground in front of me, stuffing his 22-year-old body into a pressurized jumpsuit, was Brent Witt, a local boy who was going to further entertain us by skydiving out of our balloon basket from several thousand feet up. Better him than me, I figured. Obviously, the guy has nerves of steel. Less than an hour before, he had been fast asleep when Brandt called, asking if he felt like jumping this morning. I mean, the dude was there before the balloon was filled.

One must get quite a rush from this skydiving thing, I thought. But there was little time to ponder the situation. Suddenly it was time to cram 11 of us -- nine passengers, Brandt the pilot and Witt the jumper -- into a basket roughly 9 feet by 5 feet.

One quickly forgets about the close quarters once Brandt fires enough propane-fueled hot air blasts up into the enormous balloon. Quickly, you're thankful there are other bodies close by as you slowly begin to lift off the earth and rise into the morning sky.

At first, you laugh at the people, barking dogs and moving cars as they begin to fade away, soon to be mere ants on the landscape. Then you rise into and finally above the clouds, witnessing a scene most of us have seen only through the window of a commercial airliner.

Up there, truly in God's country, there is nothing but peace. No traffic jams, no lawn to mow, no laundry to pick up. Just clouds and sunlight as far as you can see, the only sound being the occasional blast of the burners to give us more altitude.

As Brandt explained, Above the Rest operates these flights year-round, holidays included, weather permitting. He estimates that the company carries about 3,500 passengers a year across the skies, leaving from locations in Perris, Temecula and Palm Springs. The company features rides to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, wedding ceremonies and more, capped off by champagne and snacks on the ground afterward.

Brandt's job as pilot involves managing the blasts of propane -- about 55 gallons' worth for the entire trip -- "spinning" or rotating the balloon by pulling on ropes above him, monitoring our position both visually and with a GPS system, and communicating with the ground crew.

After all, they have to know where to pick us up. The wind will have something to say about the landing spot.

Meanwhile, at about 7,000 feet -- 8,400 feet above sea level, Brandt points out -- Witt pulls on his goggles, steps up onto the top rail of the basket, waves goodbye and jumps out. Looking like some kind of superhero with a spread-eagle, free-fall posture in his winged jumpsuit, Witt opens the parachute about halfway down, just as he begins to disappear into the clouds.

Alrighty, then. Where's that handrail?

As we continue drifting southeast, we pass over Highway 74 and notice Diamond Valley Lake off in the distance. Through breaks in the clouds, we can see horses wandering around corrals, freshly plowed fields, new housing developments, bright blue swimming pools, even a couple people up on their rooftops, waving as we begin to descend.

Finally, after nearly an hour and 20 minutes of heavenly bliss, we float down to a vacant lot in the unfinished portion of a housing tract a bit southeast of Heritage High School. A couple of slight bumps and we're down, having traveled almost five miles from our takeoff spot.

As he begins to help the ground crew pack up the equipment for the van ride back to the base, Brandt is asked what keeps him motivated to do this every day.

"It's not the same -- ever," he said. "I've never done two trips that are exactly the same. And it's the reactions... usually, this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience for people."

Maybe, maybe not. I think I just might take to the skies again sometime. I'm not saying I'll be ready to strap on the chute if Brent Witt sleeps through the wake-up call next time, but I'll certainly be ready to pile into the basket again and take off into the wild blue yonder.

Above the Rest Hot Air Ballooning and Skydiving
Reservations: (888) 364-7421

A Doug's Life: Riding the Dusty Trail

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 07:32:00 +0000

In the continuing efforts to explore my relatively new hometown of Menifee and surrounding areas, I recently discovered a new strategy:

Get lost.

OK, so I wasn't completely lost. I mean, I always knew I could find my way home eventually. Even though I wasn't familiar with the neighborhood I found myself in upon making an unscheduled exit from the 215 Freeway, I knew there was no reason to panic.

I didn't have to hope someone had left bread crumbs for me to follow home. I didn't need a compass or to wait for nightfall and look for the North Star. C'mon, it's 2012. I had a GPS app on my iPhone.

Besides, as usual, I found a way to turn a challenge into an adventure.

Here's what happened. I was cruising south on the 215, a few miles before reaching my Menifee exit, when traffic came to a dead stop. "OK, so it's Southern California," I said to myself. Then I thought, "Hey, this is the middle of nowhere. Isn't this what I moved 90 minutes east to escape?"

The same thing had happened a couple nights earlier, when I spent about a half hour maneuvering through a detour at the 4th Street off-ramp because of construction work. At least that time, it was about 10 p.m., when you'd assume such work would be taking place.

This time it was 5:30 on a Friday afternoon -- not exactly prime shutdown time for a busy freeway, no matter how many tumbleweeds are floating around.

Maybe it was just a stalled car around the bend, but I decided not to take any chances. Streaking over from the center lane to the far right lane with the dexterity of my grandma on steroids, I pulled off on the Nuevo Road off-ramp before reaching the red (tail light) zone.

I knew enough to turn left, heading east, where presumably I could catch some surface street that would take me southward toward the Hidden Meadows development of Menifee. If not, I could always send up a signal flare.

Just past Perris High School, I pulled over to consult the GPS. Yep, it showed me that, sooner or later, I would come upon Menifee Road, which would take me in the right direction.

Of course, sooner turned out to be later. For the next few miles, I drove down lonely roads lined with boulders the size of a garage. In short, it was pretty much the back-road tour of Nuevo (is there a front-road tour?)

But that's OK. Back in the day, I would've grumbled to myself about the delay. But this is the new, relaxed, rural, cowboy-wanna-be me. An unexpected 25-minute drive the rest of the way home was downright enjoyable.

To me, there's something soothing about cruising down the road with very little on either side except horse corrals and abandoned barns. At one point, I passed what appeared to be a grandpa and grandson riding on horseback down the side of the road, chasing their own shadows away from the setting sun.

(Cue the strumming guitar and howling coyotes).

Yeah, this side trip definitely beat the usual freeway race past the Home Depot at Ethanac Road. This definitely was more scenic than the auto mall with the giant thermometer. I didn't even miss my usual view of the lights in the valley as I head over the hill toward Newport Road.

After all, I said when I came here that I wanted to see the sights. It's just taken a bit longer than expected. Suddenly, I realized, I had gotten into a rut, traveling up and down the 215 like a racehorse with blinders on.

It reminded me of an incident a few days earlier, when my wife Kristen and I decided to travel a bit north of our neighborhood on Briggs Road, just to see where it led. Lo and behold, there's a giant dairy farm right there, maybe a mile from our house. That explains the smell.

Once again, I didn't mind at all.

In recent weeks, I also have discovered the scenic drive west across Scott Road (eventually Bundy Canyon Road) to the 15 Freeway. I have a few enticing side roads earmarked for a return trip.

Yep, it's time to stop and smell the roses. OK, road apples. Whatever.

I doubt that Kristen would agree, but I find it refreshing.

A Doug's Life: Upholding a Super Tradition

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 04:36:00 +0000

Just finished up another Super Bowl Sunday, and boy, am I tired.

I don't know how the players do it. They have to actually run, pass and tackle for about four hours. It must be exhausting. After all, what else would explain Giants running back Ahmad Bradshaw stopping just short of the goal line and falling untouched into the end zone like he'd just passed out?

(Oh yeah, strategy, right? He was supposed to take a knee at the 1-yard line to use up a little more time before scoring. See, it's mentally draining, too).

Yet as physically and emotionally exhausting as the Super Bowl was for the victorious New York Giants and the New England Patriots, one has to admit it takes a lot out of the fans as well.

Wherever you were in and around Menifee on Sunday afternoon, chances are you saw at least part of the game. Whether you were part of the packed house at the Beer Hunter, attended a Super Bowl party at a friend's house or simply kicked back in front of the flat screen at home, you got in your own personal workout.

At least if you're like me. Hey, it's tradition.

First, you've got to have the snacks. A full meal always is appreciated, but snacks are a must. This always was a necessity on New Year's Day, at least back when they played all the best college bowl games that day. But now the best college games are spread out over weeks. Who wants to celebrate New Year's Day with chips and dip while you're watching the Capital One Bowl?

No, there really is only one true pig-out day now for Americans, and we're not talking about Thanksgiving. That meal is justified. Super Bowl Sunday really is celebrated for no good reason other than to convince our "significant other" we are legally required to stuff ourselves with junk food and beverages while watching a sports event at least once a year.

Take me, for instance. I knew darn well that unlike other years, this Super Bowl Sunday I would be watching the game virtually alone at home. My son-in-law the Patriots fan (sorry, Jeff) and his family were at another party. My wife and I are still relative newcomers here and we aren't exactly party animals, so the plan was to kick back on the sofa, watch some football and stuff myself.

I no longer try to convince my wife about the legal requirement to celebrate Super Sunday. She doesn't buy it. Even when I tell her that, as a former sports writer, I am simply continuing my research, she gives me the evil eye. But hey, she did sit there and watch for a while, managing to stay awake for most of the first half.

Kristen even fed my Super Bowl "habit" by helping in the preparations for my little party, ignoring the fact that the crowd would basically be one. She accompanied me to the market as a consultant on which chips to buy, made sure we had cheese slices in several varieties, and even found the one remaining box of chocolate chip cookies -- a must at such events.

As kickoff approached, I sat down by myself in front of the big screen -- and a spread that could've fed 10. For a brief moment, I remembered my New Year's Resolution to eat healthy and get more exercise. OK, I decided. I would stand up at least twice a quarter and do a set of bicep curls with some soda cans. And this time, a dozen cookies would be my limit.

Before long, my soon to be 4-year-old granddaughter Riley joined me on the couch. Said she was rooting for the Giants -- basically because she doesn't know what a Patriot is (who does these days?). By the time she'd had a couple cookies and more than a few chips, she was bouncing off the walls in her little cheerleader outfit, waving Giants blue pom poms.

Yeah, the party was getting out of hand.

Halftime with Madonna on stage was kind of a blur. Maybe it was all the soda, chips, salsa, cheese and cookies. Or perhaps it was the difficulty I had following the antics of a 50-something entertainer leading high school cheers.

At least the second half was entertaining enough to hold my interest as I headed to the kitchen for some bottled water. Having polished off most of the snack tray with the help of the little cheerleader, I was feeling mighty proud of myself -- and also a bit sick. Having a wild fourth quarter to watch overshadowed the stomach rumblings that too often took precedence in past years.

The commercials? Oh, they were OK. I've seen better. The game? The finish definitely was more entertaining than most years.

The spectacle itself? It's Super Bowl Sunday, and tradition must be observed. Tomorrow, the gym awaits. For this one day, being a well-fed couch potato is cool.

A Doug's Life: Having a Ball is an Adventure

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 06:53:00 +0000

The ritual has begun anew.

We're barely into February and the rites of spring are upon us. All around Menifee, wherever there's a park big enough to have a dirt infield and four bases, you'll see them.

Baseball. Softball. Little League. Pony League. ASA. Fast pitch. Slow pitch. Travel ball. T-ball.

It's a way of life. Sometimes exhilarating, sometimes aggravating. Almost always addicting.

I know. I've been there. And as a recovering youth baseball and softball addict, it's interesting to watch these people from the outside this time.

Driving past Wheatfield Park on Menifee Road the last couple weekends, I have noticed the crowds. Not just the young people in tryouts and practice sessions. Also the "older" folks -- i.e., parents, grandparents and assorted other "fans" of the ballplayers.

They pack the stands. They wander about. Some volunteer. Others just cheer.

Work the snack bar? No problem. Need a team mom? Right here. Short of coaches? Sign me up, as long as my kid is on my team.

Some stay for a couple hours, others seemingly days. RVs line the street, as if setting up camp through the summer.

Ah, those were the days. Youth baseball. I played it, then coached it, then served on the board of directors. I wouldn't trade the memories for anything -- nor would I wish it upon any adult with high blood pressure or a quick temper.

So while I take a couple more years off before returning to the field to watch the grandkids play, I offer from afar a few suggestions for the adults who will be supervising and supporting the young ballplayers of Menifee the next few months:

Find the silver lining: Help the kids find something positive in the experience. If they lost the game, praise them for the big play they made in the field or their improved hitting skills. If those don't apply, buy them a hot dog and tell them you love them.

Throw out the stat book: Does it really matter what a 9-year-old's batting average is? Stats are for the adults, not the kids. Who's playing this game, anyway?

Don't give special privileges to your child: If you're the coach, it's likely your kid has received more mentoring than half the other kids on the team. Is that a reason to give your son or daughter the best field position, best spot in the batting order, and all the innings in the starting lineup? Be fair. Once you see little Irving the right fielder beaming after his first hit, you'll know why.

Don't deny standard privileges to your child: Now we're talking the flip side. Say you're the coach, your kid has pitched three hitless innings and you're winning, 10-0. Don't take him out just to give some other kid a chance when your only other decent pitcher is out of town. It might result in an 11-10 loss and a heartbroken son. Trust me, I know.

Don't leave the taquitos in the microwave too long: No one said that, when working the snack bar, you'd have time to actually watch the game.

Give the umpires a break: C'mon, half of them are teenagers and the other half can barely see. You're lucky they find anyone willing to subject themselves to that kind of abuse.

Watch what you say: When shouting from the stands, "Get a hold of one, Billy!" is acceptable. "Stick it in his ear!" is not.

Keep things in perspective: Notice the reaction of the different generations after a tough loss. You and your friends might be yelling at the umpires or second-guessing the coach. Meanwhile, the kids have already put it behind them and are laughing at each other through their snow cones.

It's a fun life, this youth ball stuff. Or at least it can be, if you let it. So play ball in Menifee, but remember this:

They call it a game for a reason.

A Doug's Life: Just Read, Baby

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 05:10:00 +0000

They say you can't judge a book by its cover. That's OK.

I'd rather judge it by the words inside anyway.

This came to mind the other day, when I was privileged to be guest speaker at a meeting of the Friends of the Sun City Library. It was my first time inside the beautiful building, which is only a couple years old and gets plenty of use.

My message to those in attendance was about the value of the written word, whether bound in published book form, assembled in a three-ring notebook, printed in a newspaper or magazine, or floating about somewhere online. Maybe I was preaching to the choir, but I never grow tired of talking about the value of diversified communication.

That has become a hot topic these days, whether you're talking about communication via the Internet on a laptop, on an iPhone, in a text message or in the pages of a good old-fashioned hard-bound book. Each day, people debate which form of written communication is more valuable and whether any of them should be diminished or eliminated.

If you ask me, the bottom line is this: Each format serves a useful purpose, should be valued for what it is, and should be used efficiently as a supplement to the others.

Think about it. You're reading this Menifee 24/7 column on a website, right? You won't find this article printed on paper you can pick up at a news rack. It isn't sitting somewhere on the shelf of the Sun City Library. But you can access it at that library and anywhere else that has an Internet connection. Does that make it more or less valuable than a printed article?

I say neither -- just different. Menifee 24/7 and all the information published here serves a valuable purpose in informing and entertaining members of the community. It distributes news that is covered nowhere else by traditional print media, primarily because of the limited resources of some newspapers in today's economy. Even so, print publications that cover Riverside County communities continue to serve a useful purpose.

Having worked as a professional journalist for 30 years, I never thought I would see the day I would rather read the news on my iPhone than by unfolding a newspaper with the same content. Why? Because I can stuff my phone into my pocket and easier than I can a copy of the L.A. Times. Also because my phone updates every few minutes and the print paper only once every 24 hours.

Even so, there are purposes served by the print version of the news that I can't get anywhere else. Have you ever tried pasting a copy of your iPhone screen into a scrapbook for safekeeping?

The walls of my home office are lined with bookshelves holding hundreds of my favorite books. Some are paperback; most are original hardbound copies. I have accumulated these over the course of a lifetime and I refuse to get rid of them, even if I've read them several times. Ask my wife, who gets dizzy just walking in there.

I think the thing that aggravates her most is that I keep adding to the collection. Sure, I have downloaded a few books to my phone for convenience's sake, but I suspect I will never grow tired of the feeling of turning pages in a book and reaching into the shelves for a favorite title I can both see and touch.

The epitome of publishing is when electronic communication and traditional print communication complement one another. You may not realize it, but it happens all the time.

When I first started researching my family history several years ago, I began with family journals and handwritten letters. That led me to Internet search engines and message boards, which contained listings of library collections.

Many of these private genealogies have not been converted into digital form. Some are handwritten or typed and are the only surviving copies, sitting on a library shelf somewhere. But using the vast resources of the Internet, I can find them and go where the words are.

That is why I spent hours poking through the shelves of libraries in North Carolina a few years ago, reading the words written by distant cousins I discovered first through the Internet, then in detail through the actual printed document.

So whether you're into eBooks, dog-eared paperbacks or that precious decades-old reference book, do yourself a favor and just keep reading. Read at home, at the office, at your local library or wherever possible.

And remember to give thanks for people like Jim Dunlevey, who this week completed a 12-year stint as president of the Friends of the Sun City Library, and Linda Denver, the group's new president. Through the hard work of these individuals and others, the Menifee community has a new library building, a wonderful library collection, and many community programs promoting reading.

One of those will take place this Saturday, Jan. 21, when the library hosts its first meet and greet event featuring local authors. Fifteen authors from the Menifee area will be at the library from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., giving residents a chance to meet and chat with them.

Take advantage of such opportunities. Visit the Sun City Library when you get a chance. And most of all ... read, read, read.

A Doug's Life: Can't We All Just Get Along?

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 03:58:00 +0000

And here all this time, I thought I was moving to the peaceful outskirts of society.

Oh sure, it's nice and quiet around my place at night. I can look up and see the stars, which rarely make an appearance in the night skies of the San Gabriel Valley. An afternoon stroll around the neighborhood is quiet and restful. Even in the more crowded "downtown" section, people generally are friendly and polite.

But you know what else I found? You folks can be downright feisty when you've a mind to be.

Donna complains on this website about the lack of dining choices in Menifee. Sam says it's not an issue. Jane wishes for a Panera Bread cafe in town. Josh whines that this would just add to the traffic problem.

The city announces that Panera Bread is coming to town. Jordan says, "It's about time." Jenny responds, "Not in the Marketplace! Where are we supposed to park?" Gloria says, "Our community needs the business." Chris responds, "Hey, mind your own business!"

(OK, so the names have been changed to protect the innocent and some of the comments have been embellished. But you get the idea).

Mary wants a Wal-Mart. Joe hates Wal-Mart. Rick says to widen Newport Road. Sue says that's a waste of time; build a freeway overpass at Holland Road.

Hector says they're all wrong. Just head south to Scott Road, make a right, make another right, turn left at the railroad tracks, hike across the creek bed, skateboard down Haun Road, and you'll avoid a lot of the traffic.

More housing. Less housing. Compete with Temecula. Don't become another Temecula. Where's the theater? Who needs a theater?

And of course the latest controversy: Should we allow a tattoo shop in Menifee? Does it matter if it's near a church? Will it be a "bad influence?" Are those who oppose it simply ignorant?

Jason: "It will be a haven for drugs." Julie: "Your drug-dealing neighbor is the one you should be worrying about. Jack: "You're an idiot." Jane: "AND SO'S YOUR OLD MAN!"

Welcome to paradise.

Actually, I'm not surprised. In fact, it's kind of refreshing to realize that no matter where you live -- and no matter how many horses there are per square mile, or tattoo parlors, for that matter -- people are people. Get two or more of them together and the conflict ensues.

I suppose if I had continued to settle into the peaceful existence of Menifee without ever hearing so much as an argument over a parking spot at the Super Target, life would've become boring sooner or later. And believe me, having worked as a journalist for more than 30 years, I'm used to people complaining.

So in that regard, I feel like I'm getting a little slice of home cooking from the old neighborhood. It's kind of like reality followed me out here. Maybe that isn't a bad thing.

But to all the rest of you, as an "outsider," I would say this: Exercise your right to free speech, but respect the other guy and avoid name-calling. OK, so you're convinced you're right and he's wrong. In the end, the two of you alone are not going to decide things. Once you, the other other guy and several thousand others make their feelings known, these issues are decided by city officials, in a courtroom, or by someone who has a lot more money than the rest of us.

I'm not here to pass judgment on how many businesses we should have in town, what those businesses should be, or how long the left-turn lanes at Newport and Haun should be. I haven't been here long enough to make an informed decision on a lot of these things.

I'm just a guy who found a town with a lot of things I like -- enough things to make up for the few I don't like. If I can help change the negatives into positives, I will. But in each and every issue, I will continue to play the role of the objective journalist and try to see both sides.

I wish more people would try to do the same.

A Doug's Life: Making Big Plans for 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 23:21:00 +0000

As I understand it, New Year's resolutions are supposed to be one's commitments to accomplish things or take a certain course of action in specific areas.

Most people interpret this as a promise to "do better" in certain areas, such as losing weight or managing one's time better. Yet a New Year's resolution also can simply be stated as a goal to do something you've always wanted to do -- say, climb Mt. Everest.

I'm no mountain climber, but I'm pretty good at keeping lists. So as I close out 2011 and prepare to welcome 2012 in my new home of Menifee, here are my New Year's resolutions, in no particular order:

Read at least two books a month: I should be able to do much better than that, and I used to, before I started grading all those darn college term papers. I have dozens of carefully chosen books sitting on the shelves of my office, still waiting to be read. I think the goal is to devote at least 30 minutes each night to a good book before turning in. Now do I start with "Lonesome Dove" or "Gold Dust and Gunsmoke"?

Learn Menifee history: OK, so the town is named after a guy who was a miner in the area in the 1800s. There's got to be more to it than that. Recently, I joined the Menifee Valley Historical Society. It's time to go on some hikes and dig through some old documents.

Grade those papers on time: There's nothing like getting three weeks behind in grading papers when you have 80 students turning in two or three writing assignments a week. Trust me, I've been there -- like last quarter. My wife Kristen would say, "Can't I help you grade?" No, dear. They're like essays, not multiple choice quizzes. They require my personal expertise (sounds impressive, doesn't it?)

Take riding lessons: Horseback riding, of course. I've already lined up some possibilities. Hey, animals like me. Now, will my backside like the saddle after an hour or two? We'll find out.

Work out regularly: Last year, I was in the gym five days a week and lost 20 pounds. Then I had foot surgery and was on crutches for nine weeks. Now I'm 15 pounds heavier and feeling kinda sluggish. But I did find a nice local gym, so I'm back at it come Jan. 3. Until then, bring on the chips, soda and a whole bunch of football on TV.

Go camping: Haven't done it in years, unless you count a rented RV on the beach. I'm talking a tent and sleeping bags. This will happen during the spring or summer, when I can lay out under the stars without freezing my arsenal off. Anyone got any sterno?

Stay focused: I can be in the middle of a news article or grading a student's essay when my mind suddenly takes me to Maui or Dodge City. What the heck? C'mon, man, focus. I think it's today's society, which encourages us to log hours at work while checking Facebook status updates and tweets every 10 minutes. Something's got to give.

Explore the area on foot: I can't get everywhere I need to by car. There are trails, canyons, old mine sites and other cool spots I'll have to hike to. If my bad foot doesn't hold up, it's back in the saddle for me. It will happen.

Work on my family history: I've researched my ancestors back to 1531 in Germany and I created a website to tell others all about it. That's not good enough. Until I trace my line back to Adam and Eve, the work isn't done. Again, it's a matter of making the time. The information is out there. Anyone else got a horse thief in their family tree?

Drive from Newport and Antelope to the Countryside Marketplace parking lot in less than five minutes: Hey, you have to set your goals high.

Be kind to others: Not that I'm not already, but we can all do better. You know all those times you pass someone in the office hallway or on the sidewalk and keep your head down or look the other way? I think it's time to say "hello" and smile on more of these occasions. There's only maybe one chance in a million that person is an ax murderer. I'll take that chance.

They might even smile and say "hello" back.

Happy New Year, everyone, and here's to a great 2012 in Menifee.

A Doug's Life: Dreaming of the View From Up in the Wild Blue Yonder

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 22:30:00 +0000

If you haven't realized by now that I'm fascinated with the rural atmosphere and outdoor life of the Menifee area, you haven't been paying attention.

It's ironic, really, because although I fancy myself an outdoorsman, I spend most of my time in a classroom or pounding away on a computer keyboard. I'm not much of a fisherman, I have yet to take those horse riding lessons, and my camping experience is limited. But my imagination is a rugged, grizzled veteran. It's working all the time.

So as I drive throughout the scenic Menifee Valley and take in the sights (what's with all the boulders?), I find myself constantly looking for ways to explore the landscape.

One vantage point that intrigues yet frightens me at the same time: Seeing it all from the air.

There are several ways one can do this, of course. The only one I'm really familiar with is the commercial jet. Having logged many thousands of miles as an airline passenger on road trips as a sports writer over the years, I have no problem forgetting about my fear of heights when I'm in a large, air-conditioned aircraft with people all around me and a good book to read.

Unfortunately, you don't see much of the ground scenery from 30,000 feet. Besides, I choose an aisle seat whenever possible. Much easier access to the little sports writers' room when the need arises.

Anyway, I figure Southwest Flight 3140 is not a viable option for a birds-eye view of these parts.

OK, so maybe a small aircraft that flies lower and can be piloted on a specific flight path over the area. I had fun checking out the 1928 model two-seat plane being built by local flight enthusiasts at the French Valley Airport. Obviously, there are somewhat larger and more enclosed private planes. Could I see myself in one?

Sure -- as long as it stays on the runway. I'm not getting up in one of those contraptions, even if the C-17s from March Air Reserve Base make room for me. If the engine goes, so do I. On to the next idea.

Driving down the 215, I occasionally see bodies floating to the ground under parachutes, often in large groups. I get it. Perris has one of the most popular "drop zones" around. Sometimes you see large groups of people skydiving together. Just a few months ago, Menifee 24/7 reported on a record skydive by 200 jumpers.

Sounds like fun, but I'll pass. If I tried that, I wouldn't see a bit of landscape on the way down, even after the chute opened. I'd be too busy saying the Lord's Prayer.

What's left? Well, there's always a hot air balloon. I might be able to handle that. I'd still be scared to death of falling over the side, but I think I could control myself enough to check out the sights. There would be that horrifying childhood memory of the Wizard of Oz floating off uncontrollably into the stratosphere, but hey, every adventure has some element of danger, right?

I figure I could see the location of all the local lakes, enjoy the view of all the open fields, and basically develop a greater appreciation for the open space we have around here. I could enjoy some of that beautiful clean air we have, up close and personal. The views of the local hills and the snow-capped mountains would be spectacular, I'm sure.

Yep, that's it. When I'm ready to take to the skies above Menifee Valley, I'm doing it in a hot air balloon.

But you'll notice I said "When I'm ready." That could be a while. Like the horse riding lessons and the fishing trip, it's still on the "to do" list. No use rushing things.

Meanwhile, I think I'll take a nice, long walk.

A Doug's Life: Recognizing the True Meaning of Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Doug Spoon) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 18:32:00 +0000

There we were, standing in front of the Carnes family's "MaryChrisMess" house on Calle Pompeii, when it hit me.

I was holding my 2-year-old grandson, Cameron, and looking at a fascinating miniature village built into the front of the Carnes home. There were festive miniature houses, villagers, carnival rides, skaters, even a drive-in theatre with a real movie playing on a small screen. An electric train chugged its way through the village, back and forth from one end of the long display to the other.

I had been there the night before, gathering information and photos for this website, but it hadn't quite been the same. That time, I was so concerned with the big picture, I hadn't noticed all the little treasures, each holding their own special meaning. This time, my eyes followed the path of the train and studied the smiles on the faces of those tiny figurines.

I let my imagination go to work. I remembered the electric train set I had as a boy and the fun I had watching it. Then I watched little Cameron's face, which lit up as his eyes took in the entire scene. I smiled as he giggled every time the train hit the end of the track and bounced back the other way.

Then I turned and looked all around me in the Carnes' driveway. Everywhere I looked, friends and neighbors laughed, hugged and exchanged greetings. A firepit surrounded by chairs welcomed appreciative visitors. Mary Carnes snapped photos of each guest -- many of whom left canned goods as donations for a local charity. Inside, her husband Chris served visitors soup and meatballs and thanked them for stopping by.

Suddenly, I realized once again what I probably always have known, but too often forget:

This is what Christmas is all about.

It's about people like Chris and Mary Carnes, who open up their home each night for a month at Christmas time, just to give something back to the community they love. It's about the visitors who come to show their appreciation and help the less fortunate with their donations to Menifee Community Cupboard.

It's about people like Sherry Durado, who recently opened her Sun City home to visitors with a similar display for two weekends earlier this month. It's about people like Linda Denver, a Menifee resident who works all year on community service projects, then plays Mrs. Claus for the little ones at Christmas time.

And it's about people like Cpt. Jesse Karr, who delivers care packages to Marines in Afghanistan while his parents and friends back home in Menifee prepare more supplies to ship overseas.

People have different opinions on what Christmas is really about. In fact, some don't recognize Christmas at all. To be politically correct, we are told, we are to wish others "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas."

I happen to be one who believes we can celebrate Christ's birth, declare his belief to others, and still respect the beliefs of all those around him. Isn't that why we live in America?

OK, I'm jumping off the soap box now. All I'm trying to say is, we can all get along as friends and neighbors and respect each other, whether you believe in Jesus Christ; acknowledge Santa Claus; celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or simply the winter solstice; or believe in none of the above.

No matter what you do or don't believe in, you have the capacity to care for others. If nothing else, this time of year is a reminder of the blessings we have and the ability we have to bless others.

If you doubt this, watch the classic film "It's a Wonderful Life." Or visit the Carnes house (thanks, Mary, for taking the photo of us shown below).

Or just pause a moment to look around you at this special time of year.

So Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all, no matter what your situation or beliefs. Have a great weekend, give your loved ones a hug, and do something kind for someone else.

It really is a great feeling.