June Gloom

June Gloom

I’ve already taken to debunking the notion that it never rains in Southern California (thank goodness) and I was about to report that the phenomenon known locally as June Gloom was also fiction, but then that changed a few days ago. June Gloom is a local colloquial term for a marine layer effect caused by a temperature inversion with the cool ocean water off the coast combining with a warm air mass from land (the desert out here starts pretty close to the water), causing low-altitude stratus clouds to form and create a cloudy and overcast morning often accompanied by what appears to be fog and drizzle. It usually clears up by mid-morning, but can extend to mid-afternoon before giving way to sunny skies. This topic has caused me to become aware of the Catalina Eddy, which is a wind formation caused by the concave shape of the California coastline in these parts that causes this circular air movement centered around Catalina Island as its vortex. It is what brings and keeps June Gloom in these parts for the morning hours of the day.

Kim just walked out to me here in the warmth of the hot tub (the best antidote I have found for June Gloom) and wondered aloud if we were going to be able to dine with our guests tonight on the patio. I explained the whole June Gloom phenomenon and sounded particularly knowledgeable having just researched and written the above paragraph. I then asked her if she could guess the title of the blog story I was in the midst of writing and she correctly guessed June Gloom. Not just a hat rack, as she likes to say pointing to her head.

We are trying everything to counteract the effects of June Gloom (in this case I am describing the general malaise of this month in 2020, not just the meteorological moment). We have done our much anticipated Sprinter trip and concluded that we are not Sprinter people after all. Check. We have planned our late July road trip to the Redwoods of Northern California and into Oregon and the Columbia Gorge and Crater Lake. All booked and plotted out. Check. I have planned out my attack on my latest home improvement project with my shadesail plans and am in the process of deciding how best to execute. Check. I signed over my Lemon Law surrender of my BMW K1600 motorcycle and await the check for full recompense. This involved some yelling and stomping about not getting the check at the title sign-over, but I got a lawyers letter of commitment instead. Check (with a significant “Harumf!”)

Today we await the arrival of our first houseguests since Coronavirus came to town. Steve and Maggie are driving their Tesla over from Phoenix for a few days. I would suggest that this brave of them to road trip with an EV, but it requires only one or two recharging stops along a well-trodden path that I’m sure Tesla has accommodated with enough superchargers somewhere. And then, when they get here I have my charging station to juice them up for their return trip. We will collectively fight off the Gloom by enjoying each others’ company (totally socially distanced and masked) and probably taking a road trip tomorrow to somewhere like Borrego Springs where Steve and I will motorcycle through the scenic twisty canyon roads and the ladies will drive the car. This is well-established pattern for us developed over many foreign and domestic motorcycle trips with our American Flyers Motorcycle Club. The stories from the Princess Van (as our foreign tour guides like to call the female chase car) are often more fun than the motorcycle stories.

As I plot out the rest of my month, I see a combination of work and personal/home projects that should fill the remainder of whatever June Gloom is left in the system. The full-court press video pitch for our high-tech proton-conducting ceramics hydrogen electrolyzer (say that fast three times if you can) will get made displaying the technological wonders we have accomplished in an attempt to interest new investors to take the plunge into the warm waters of venture capital in green technology in a time of Coronavirus. There are routine doctor’s appointments and DMV visits to make (not sure which of those two will hurt more). And there is Project Sailshade to execute, which is more or less the last of my home improvement projects for a while. The roofing guys come to drain my pockets at the end of July, but I consider that a solid investment in preventive maintenance, which I expect will carry my through my likely life in this home. If I assume a twenty year roof warranty, I will be 86 when that expires and statistically speaking, I am only likely to expire after that time with about a 10% probability. At that time, my youngest son will be 45 and my oldest granddaughter will be 27 and well into her career. It is funny (more reassuring than anything else) to think in these terms since it makes me feel that life is going on and all will be well.

Imagine the world in twenty years. It will be 2040. The world should be fully carbon-neutral by then and based on the climate correction we have seen the earth go through in a simple 120 days of Coronavirus lockdown, the planet’s ability to heal itself will likely be in full evidence. The cyclical adjustment to the right-wing nationalistic politics of the idiotic moment will pendulum back and be in a much kinder, gentler place with a greater sense of wealth and prosperity distribution than we now enjoy. This will have been thrust upon the less enlightened in the world by the insistence of the masses and the enlightened generosity of the Uber-wealthy like Bill Gates. I don’t really care why we get there, so long as we get there. Since I tend to be a person who believes everything devolves to self-interest, I am happy that those at the top of the food chain can appreciate that their continued dominance depends on enlightened sharing of the earth’s bounty. If that makes for better lives for all, more power to them. To paraphrase an old adage, living well may be the best revenge, but letting everyone live adequately well may be the only salvation.

I began this story observing the June Gloom phenomenon from my hot tub. It has long since turned itself off (I keep it on a tight energy leash), but the water lingers at 90 degrees and reminds me that it is time to move on with my day. The June Gloom still lingers so it may be a deeper marine layer inversion today, but I have worked my way out of any gloom in my disposition by reminding myself that it only takes a little effort to find the wonders and happiness in life on any given morning. I think I am starting to find my peace with retirement and work, and maybe even June Gloom.