In my last blog I mentioned the false positives, but did not mention the many POSITIVE positives from this event experience! Not only were the people interesting, I also had the chance to speak to the crowd about the lifestyle dimensions of the fractional purchase. I write about the shared residence industry in Travel Connoisseur, Shared Ownership News and The Helium Report, but I rarely meet potential buyers WITH those who have conceived the fractional dimension of the yachts, helicopters, cars, jets, and jewelry collections. This time, I met BOTH: the buyers and the sellers. It was a great co-mingling of front and back office, vision and operation, theory and practice.
Even though it has been a month since I last blogged, I have not been sitting around! I went to and spoke at the First Fractional Fusion event in Newport Beach, California, where fractional yacht, jet and destination club sponsors came and networked. I have left SoCal long ago, so, returning to a neighboring city is always an interesting exercise in understanding my ambivalence about the region. Yes, there's a lot of plastic surgery results walking around, and yes, many of the women are so perfect looking they do NOT look real at all, but then again, so what? I have grown old enough to accept perfection as well as idiosyncracy. I still could look out to sea, drink ( only in California) Pomegranate Mojitos, and talk to people who were very interested in spending a few hundred thousand on fractional interests -- all without feeling superior or angst-ridden about anything. This is how they live their lives; I have grown older and do not want to change them.
There was a a woman at the event -- she had just had work done, and was talking about it. I looked at her, she was impossibly slim, had a youthful figure, shiny blonde hair but had a kind of lattice work of facial wrinkles; thus, a kind of anachronism: a youthful figure, an elderly face. I overheard her telling her friend, " As far as the surgery goes, my doctor is working his way UP!" She also had a growly little white poodle in her arms. I was listening to her, and began to pet the dog. She turned to me, and in a very kind voice said, " You know how old he is? He's 18: deaf, blind but he still keeps going!" I found this to be symbolic, funny, ironic, witty, everything rolled into one. The dog should have been called California, but he was called Puffy.
For the past 21 years, 21 Falls, I knew it was Fall in Tucson only for a day or two. The Cactus did not change color, nor did the Mesquite, Greasewood or Palo Verde. We natives knew only because the calendar told us; yet fall has always been my favorites season. Unlike a character on Prairie Home Companion, who always considered Fall depressing -- it reminded him of rotting pumpkins and nursing homes -- I had always welcomed Fall as a cool, colorful time.
When we came to Logan, Utah this year, neither of us expected the daily show that Autumn had in store. We are grateful to live among the leaves. each time we look down --on the sidewalk, or on the grass, or look up, to the trees and the mountains another vibrancy emerges.