The last time I had time to sit and write on my blog was Wednesday, the second day of my trip. It is now Saturday May 6th and I finally have a bit of time and energy to catch up. Boy, time is really spinning by in a hurry.

My plan was to spend the first night in San Juan Batista, which I did – spending an uneventful evening walking around town and having dinner in a small Mexican restaurant. The biggest “event” was when the bartender “accidentally” made two extra mango/tequila drinks which she donated to the two of us guys having dinner at the bar.

I had reservations at a little motel in Taft for Wednesday night. However, when I was looking at the map on Wednesday morning I realized that I was pretty far south and perhaps I could make a little detour to San Luis Obispo to see Cathy, an old college friend of Mary Jo and myself. I called Cathy to make sure she would be available, which she was. I then headed west instead of east. I hadn’t planned on visiting the Pacific Ocean on my way back east. I got a reservation in a Best Western near San Luis Obispo and headed out. Of course this meant that I couldn’t stay in Taft, and it was too close to my time there to get a refund – so I ended up paying for two rooms that night (luckily the room in Taft was relatively inexpensive). I take that at as a lesson, don’t book a room unless I am certain that I will be there to use it, and my wandering style of trip planning will likely change plans on the spur of the moment. Better to take the chance of not getting a room than to pay twice. I’ll see how this new plan works out.

I had a really nice time visiting with Cathy, walking around her little village on the way to dinner, driving to see the ocean and her old neighborhood, and just catching up on what has happened during the 50 or so years since we actually saw each other. It was nice, but a little awkward at first in that while it felt like we were old friends, it had been so long since actually knowing each other that it took a bit to start filling the details back in again.

I left San Luis Obispo mid-morning on Thursday in order to catch up on some lost time on my trip (and distance) toward Tucson where I booked a room on the 7th. Not wanting to take major highways, especially freeways, I opted to take a smaller road due east over the mountains to reconnect with my planned route near Bakersfield. My route would take me on a small, but well used highway over the mountains. Near what seemed like the summit I passed a sign saying that it was two miles to the Carrizo Plains National Monument. That caught my eye because before my trip several people suggested that I go there to see this year’s “superbloom” of wild flowers. Two miles seemed like a reasonable side trip, especially since I was making good time toward my evening destination of “some place near Lancaster” (without reservations this time). I found the plains, but very few flowers. There was an overabundance of “weeds” with buds ready to bloom – but very few blooms. I guess I was a little early.

When I take side trips like that I normally turn off the car’s GPS so that it doesn’t keep saying, “Route Calculation”. When I got back to the intersection, I turned it back on expecting to be instructed to turn to the left to continue on my path toward Lancaster. Instead, it told me to turn to my right. After very short distance it had me turn to my left (east) and I continued on. The road was getting pretty narrow as I kept going higher into the mountains. I assumed that my thought that I was at the summit was just a hump and the summit was still to come. The road kept getting smaller, signs appearing along the road advising that chains might be required at all times, that mud slides were possible, and to watch for falling rocks worried me a little as I kept climbing through very steep and rough terrain. After about an hour of this I realized that I had seen no signs of people, no cars, no telephone poles, no nothing – and my 77 mile total trip had passed 125 miles and I was still climbing! I was up in the clouds – at one point a huge dark cloud was just off the side of the road, it felt like it was just sitting there looming at me as I passed by. Snow was becoming common under the trees and in a few open places, as the outside temperature kept dropping. I was slightly concerned, but figured that I could always back-track if the road become impassible. At one point I stopped to see if I could figure out where I was on my paper map, but was unable to find the road on the map. I was kind of lost, but had met no intersections so knew I could find my way out if necessary.

Eventually I went over a summit and headed back down toward the San Joaquin valley. I could see the flat land of the valley off in the distance, but wasn’t sure how I would get there. I came to small farms, a few little buildings and finally a town. The town is interesting in that it is a mix of the old original homes and businesses in the mountains, mixed with many much newer, huge, ugly two story vacation “cabins”. I knew there were cabins because of the colors, frilly eves and carved animals in the front yards. They were actually just big out of place boxes with little “class” or aesthetic appeal. Apparently I had reached a region of summer homes from Las Angeles. I eventually met Interstate 5 near the summit of The Grapevine, then turning toward the east and Lancaster. My side trip took an extra hour and a half or so, and 75 miles, but took me through beautiful and rugged country I would have missed. All was well.

It was a nice was to slide into the desert. However, I eventually got to Lancaster and found it to be the armpit of the west. It is all big hotels, cookie cutter shopping malls, big industrial sized building – and freeways. I could find no indications of a people friendly town, it is just a sprawling factory. It was quite shocking following so closely upon my time in the rugged mountains and the rather magical slide into the desert. Thinking that the neighboring town of Palmdale sounded a bit “softer” and perhaps people friendly, I continued for a few miles. However, it turns out that Lancaster and Palmdale are just one continuous sprawl of ugly. I gave up and got a room at a DoubleTree hotel in Palmdale.

After settling in to my room I noticed a periodic, loud, “growling” noise, accompanied by a slight shaking of the floor. That turned out to be the elevator! It was so loud that sleep would have not been possible. I went out into the hall to investigate, finding a maintenance man to ask if that was going to continue. He said is had been fixed – it used to be NOISY. I got another room on the top floor at the end of the hall. Much better, and I had a great view of the top of a tree from my room.

After resting for a bit I went downstairs to get a glass of wine and see about getting dinner. The bar was all white inside, white walls, white bar top, white tables. There were two guys sitting at the far ends of the bar eating dinner and staring at their cellphones. A baseball game was playing on the television, but nobody was paying attention. Nobody looked up when I came in, even the bartender seemed to be too busy to respond, taking my order and then leaving the three of us sitting at the bar. There was no opportunity to start up a conversation or even make a friendly jester. Rather dejected, and a bit lonely, I decided I was exhausted and it was best to just have my wine, eat dinner, and go to my room for the night.

Before I could finish my dinner a big, good looking older (perhaps 70) black man (Whitney) came in and sat in the middle of the bar – asking our opinions of our meal choices. He ordered a drink and dinner – then sat up, leaned back and started singing! He just flat belted out a song about how to care for a woman. It blew me away because it answered the very question that I had been mulling over on my lost wanderings through the mountains earlier that day. I had been thinking about the recent unexpected loss of my wife, wondering how I would ever find another partner, and if I did find someone what should I do to treat her well as we age together into an unknown, and unknowable, future. All of a sudden here was a stranger belting out the answer to me in a most unconventional way. I have been in a lot of bars of the years, but this was the first time that I had seen anyone launch into full-throated song.

After a little it Whitney indicated that he wanted someone to sing a little backup notes. Being the quite and shy type, I took up the invitation and joined him (not well, but enthusiastically). He then paused his singing to give directions to the three of us, indicating who should take the base, who would sing the middle and who would take the high end of the backup. I was assigned the middle because I would normally take the base and he said that wouldn’t be fun. He moved us all to places that were uncomfortable – and then we all sang! It wasn’t pretty, but it was fun.

After our singing finally died down, he quizzed the guy at the right end of the bar about his background. It turns out that this guy was from Ireland, is a music producer part time and an engineer working in the aerospace industry. He said that the large presences of the aerospace industry accounts for the “industrial” nature of the area. The two of them talked to each other about the position of “producer” in the music industry. I was having a hard time understanding what they were talking about so asked them to explain what a producer is and what they do. That really ignited an interesting discussion. Apparently the producer is the one that guides all aspects of the production, from the selection of music, the performers, the details of the performance (pace, style, clothing, lighting, room details, microphone selection – everything). Whitney explained that Michael Jackson is an example of a performer that is successful because he was also the producer. He was in total control over all aspects of his productions, getting everyone to do exactly what he needed them to do to achieve his vision.

As an example of “producing” the bar experience that we were in, he “redid” the bar/lounge image. He “put” poles on a table in the middle of the room and populated them with pole dancers, he added a lap dancer to spice things up a bit, he changed the color scheme and blocked the windows so kiddies wouldn’t see in. Basically, he completely changed the vision of the place just by playing with a few ideas. Perhaps that vision isn’t exactly what the management would like in their family friendly hotel – but it was an interesting game in that moment.

Whitney said that he could “produce” me to sing. I scoffed at the possibility of this, I am not known for my musical prowess. He then asked me to sing a note. I just picked one and did so. He said to go higher, then a little lower, and a little longer – and finally said, “There, you got to my vision and you now can do that part.”

It dawned on me that is what I do when I am “teaching” newly hired engineers how to be system safety engineers. I tell them what is expected, let them try, and then come back to adjust their efforts until they “get it” – at which point I can turn my attention to other concerns. In running my engineering consulting firm I am acting at the “producer” of our services. I had been thinking in terms of being a manager – but it is much more than that. All of the parts of the “show” (our services and relationships with our customers) are important and need to be guided for best results. I also realize that is what is missing in the System Safety Society’s management, and perhaps in the management of the USA. We don’t have a President that can communicate an appropriate vision, and doesn’t not know how to help others help him achieve that vision.

By the end of the day I was totally blown away. I had started an evening of absolutely nothing, and then something happened. Something that has changed my understanding of my life, something that will stay with me far into the future. Lessons come from mysterious places if you just relax and let them happen.