I lived in Twentynine Palms in the early fifties; my family were actually the first dependents to occupy the then-new base housing. We left in 1958 and I got a chance to visit last year - 48 years later! I was astonished at how well I knew the place - recognized particular shapes in the mountain ranges in all directions from the base, and many of the rock formations in the park where we used to go for picnics. I joked to myself that "the place hasn't changed a bit" - nobody had rearranged the rocks! It was a special homecoming - I guess I bonded with old Mother Nature when running around there as a barefoot kid.
Of even more interest was the fact that although there have been some changes, the town is essentially the same as it always was. Oh, some of the stores have been converted to different use, but nearly all the buildings downtown (if you can call it that) are still there; little or no sign of any new construction. The vacant lot across the street from the house we rented before moving to the base is still a vacant lot. I walked the dry creek bed running through it where I used to prowl for hours on end on a futile mission to catch a lizard.
It does seem like the town has evolved to be closer to "its marines." Back then, the base was new, and the influx of families was
really new; there was a little bit of a feeling that we were an invader species. Not hostility, just not open arms. Now it seems like a lot of townspeople have adopted every one of those kids training in the Mojave for duty in the Iraqi desert.
The town has murals on many walls - something they adopted somewhere along the line to spruce the place up, add some local character. They have various subjects. Here's one that you can't miss if driving from the base toward any destination in the real world:
Full Size ZoomThe intersection of the two main roads - the state highway that passes through town, and the one that leads from it out to the base - what would have to be considered the most-central part of the "business district" is here:
Full Size ZoomYes, it is a vacant lot! Had been for sale for quite a while, according to the the B&B proprietor. The town council was trying to see if they could acquire it, put in some sort of memorial park. Families post "welcome home" signs when a unit is returning from deployment. The town encourages it, has a budget for cleaning up in due time. They don't publicize when a convoy is coming from LAX, but people know what day it is, and the local radio station gives updates on their progress up the Morongo Valley so people know when to go out and wave.
It's been eighteen months since I was there, so some of those names on the welcome home signs may be back over there by now. Some may be on my KIA website; I haven't dared to check. But there are definitely several from Twentynine Palms on my website, some with wives and children who were living in the town.
Those of us who don't live near a military facility, don't see the troops off duty, but just as anonymous creatures in photos all covered in body armor, helmets, goggles and such can easily slip into thinking of them like we do all those Empirical Stormtroopers in a Star Wars movie. I got a haircut while I was there in an off-base barber shop. There were some 8-10 gyrenes waiting when I got there; I started to leave and come back later - then I looked closer and realized they didn't look like they needed haircuts - they must be just waiting for buddies and all would be gone quickly. Well, I was wrong - and right. They WERE waiting for "haircuts" - but they were gone quickly! :)
Anyway, they were quiet, dignified, acted toward me as if I were a sr. officer (marines do that, just in case!) Nobody barked Ten Hut! When I entered, since it is not called for out when of uniform, but there was a discernible stiffening that shot through the room. It was reminiscent of accompanying my dad into an office. I nodded briefly and sat down and everyone relaxed a bit. And I can still see their faces, and I still brace myself when I look for photos of KIA from "The Stumps."
On another note, every time I look at the Pinto Mountains I wonder how long it will be before the Smokies look like that. If we do not stop our foolish abuse of the planet, aside from all the dire warnings about sea level rise, which seems to be the only thing that gets anyone's attention, the conditions everywhere will change, and the current vegetative patterns will be no more. Like the ancient waterfall in one of the pictures above, the streams in the Smokies may one day be just dry creek beds. And it won't take as long as it took for the Southern California climate to change. When you look at the water streaming down the mountainsides in the Smokies and learn that the rate of flow is down significantly in the past couple of years (I was there last week - a stream in the Chimneys picnic area I used to play in was just a dry, rocky creek bed), that the bears are showing up in towns due to lack of food (we saw one who looked emaciated) you quickly realize that it would take only a year or so of significant change in rainfall for the watershed to just empty itself. Like turning off the sprinkler and watching the runoff stop. We could fiddle around just a few more years and start to see the mountainside die, like a dried-up lawn.