Speaking as a journalist, it’s been an incredibly gratifying journey to spend months with a topic again. Speaking as a resident of a rural area and person who pays an inordinate amount of attention to where our tax dollars and health insurance premiums are going, I am beyond frustrated. I am appalled, and disappointed, at how many communities are seeing basic rights dwindle as systems put profit over people.

Looking ahead, I want to channel more of my energy into both of those fronts: deep-dive storytelling, and holding institutions accountable. If you’re looking for folks to link up with on either front, please don’t hesitate to reach out.

Dr. Michael Mesisca faced a tall order.

As the chair of the Department of Emergency Medicine at the Riverside University Health System, he needed to recruit doctors to work at Palo Verde Hospital in Blythe, along Interstate 10 near the California-Arizona state line, 110 miles away from the Coachella Valley.

He wondered who would be willing to take 24-hour shifts at an aging, remote facility, let alone drive two or more hours east in the heat of the summer.

“I lost some sleep over it, just wondering how we can staff this very remote, distant place with high-quality people,” Mesisca said during a June public meeting.

It ended up becoming one of the proudest moments of his career. Within 10 days, Mesisca recruited more than two dozen board-certified emergency room physicians from places like RUHS, Desert Regional Medical Center and Pomona Valley Hospital Medical Center.

“As I would recruit one doctor, two more would call me. They would call because the person that I talked to (about) what we were trying to do here to support the community would share that with their friend,” Mesisca said.

The Palo Verde Healthcare District filed for Chapter 9 bankruptcy in September 2025, a last-ditch effort to stay open after years of financial struggles. If Palo Verde closed its doors, the nearest hospitals would be 50 to 100 miles away. Many residents are already driving about two hours for care at John F. Kennedy Memorial Hospital in Indio.

Rather than allowing the area’s only remaining ER to shut down, RUHS reached a 180-day management agreement in February to stabilize emergency services. But recruiting physicians is just one piece of turning around a distressed rural hospital.

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Lisa Mackie, the RUHS clinical director of nursing, has been taking shifts at Palo Verde since February. She’s serving as the interim director of operations and head of nursing for the emergency department, where her goal is to stabilize day-to-day operations and support the existing staff.

Word is spreading that Palo Verde is improving, Mackie said, as evidenced by social media posts, as well as feedback that RUHS team members get at the grocery store when they’re out shopping in their scrubs. Other signs of success and stability: Staff are meeting regularly and receiving promotions; wait times are down; and the building itself has had significant upgrades like HVAC repairs and new cabinetry. In a literal sign of new life, three babies were born in Palo Verde’s emergency department this spring.

But it’s too soon to call the intervention a victory. The hospital’s finances are still precarious, and funding cuts to Medicaid and Medi-Cal could further threaten its stability. As of this writing, RUHS and the county have yet to reveal what happens after the 180-day agreement ends. And as Mackie noted, it’s much easier for a hospital to lose the trust of its community than it is to gain it.

“What we don’t want to see is a patient come in and have a different experience two different times,” Mackie said. “Trust comes from consistency in what we do every day.”

Read the full story here at CVIndependent.com

Have you had this happen to you? If you’ve spent any bit of time posting, promoting, or even just commenting, you more than likely have.

In this case, the person disagreed with one of my takeaways around the use of artificial intelligence in marketing. While I said that people want to see real models, writers, photographers, etc. be employed and make the work, this person said the data shows otherwise. That the ordinary consumer is more likely to buy something if it’s marketed with AI than with actual actors/photography. I asked them to show the data, and didn’t get a response (as I pretty much expected, most of us are too busy to get caught up in the comments and do any kind of detailed back and forth).

Other than what this says about the death of discourse, it thinking more about AI and the way it’s changing how we operate. I use it for some simple work tasks, like transcribing interviews and grammar edits. I've even used it personally for things like brainstorming a packing list for a family trip or recipe help. But I'm creeped out by how "inevitable" tech companies and their fevered ilk talk about, as if we have no choice but to surrender our own human choices and critical thinking to what an LLM might suggest. The existence of the technology, and its ability to juice profits, does not have the be the end-all, be-all of the discussion.

So let me put it down here for the record: I don't want to hear songs written by AI. I don't want to read a book by AI. And when I see ads online with AI-generated people it just feels lazy and cheap, and makes me think your brand is more than likely cutting corners elsewhere, too. That said, many of us are overworked and underpaid and just trying to get shit done. I really like tools that help me save my brain space for things that matter. So if you find ways its useful to you in your day-to-day, it's incredibly understandable why you'd do that, even knowing it's bad for the environment.

Everyone will have their own lines to draw. And we’ll probably erase and redraw them over time.

The world of retail

Speaking of AI…my latest Supply Chain Newsletter dove into the ways that companies are re-thinking how and where they make products. In the U.S., we don’t have a solid labor force to make products, and that’s why tariffs and imports have become such huge points of conversation in our quest to preserve and progress the American economy. But AI-powered robots making stuff? Some say that might have legs. And from an ethical consumption standpoint, a machine making clothing might be better on the whole than underpaid overseas labor.

Other highlights I’ve published lately include:

• A really fun deep dive with companies like Oura and Willow on being category creators;

• A new toy recycling service from Trashie that’s looking to keep plastic out of landfills;

• A fun, listener-inspired podcast conversation about the ins and outs of affiliate marketing. Warning: this one’s for the marketing nerds!

At this point in the year, I’m looking at back-to-school shopping trends, holiday prep and all the ways companies are ethically trying to survive at a time when most of us are really freaked out about our finances. You can find me on our Modern Retail Instagram doing videos about this, too, because you know I will never not be trying out new mediums. Hot tip or story idea? Shoot me a message!

Closer to home

I’ve heard from some folks who appreciated my story, “Long Drives, Longer Waits,” that I wrote for CV Independent as part of my USC Center for Health Journalism fellowship. I think when I look back on it this will rank as one of my favorite enterprise portfolio pieces, not just because of the data I was able to unearth after weeks of hunting but because of the truly heartbreaking stories people shared with me. Not all of those made it to print, and it’s genuinely humbling when people are willing to share their most personal family journeys with you.

As I start to wind down freelance work to head out on maternity leave and focus on mom life for a few months, I’m feeling nostalgic for my freelance days and hoping to do some deep thinking around what this area of my career looks like in the future. And stay tuned for another health story I’ll be sharing soon!

Eyes & ears

Beyond the major Philip Roth kick that I’ve been on this year, (“Exit Ghost” was weird, right?) I’m splicing in more nonfiction reads. “Hidden Potential” by Adam Grant revived something in me that I forgot I needed to hear: that we’re all on our own timelines, and we all shine in different ways (see earlier comment re: trying new mediums).

And since I’m in the final stretch of my second (and likely last…!?!) pregnancy, I read Jen Hamilton’s “Birth Vibes” to help me orient myself to the inevitable birth that’s sneaking up on me. It’s written in a really approachable way, like a magazine advice column, and while I did have to skip through a couple parts that didn’t feel applicable or were a bit too anxiety-inducing for this 31-week mama, I definitely recommend it as a primer if you’re going to be giving birth in a hospital or supporting someone who is.

I’ve tried to get back into TV as a way to keep my body still and the only that’s hooked me recently is “Outlander.” I am even paying $11.99 for Starz for a month so I can watch the final season. It is so not what I expected, I really hate time travel as a plot device, but the people are so attractive and the links with history are so up my alley that it’s been the perfect respite and escape I’ve needed during hot summer months. I’m also hoping to catch “The Odyssey” in theaters, which is somehow easier said than done when you’re a working parent? I don’t have three hours just laying around, Chris Nolan!! But again, I need to work on being still and resting my body as it grows this new wonderful little family member, so perhaps engaging storytelling is the way to do it.

I wish I had good new music recs to share, but truthfully I’m living off all my old favorites in the folksy, earthy roots-rock genre. Think Guster and Jason Isbell and Kacey Musgraves. I also had the treat of seeing Maren Morris perform for the first time and it was a gorgeous concert experience, not only because she’s a powerhouse vocalist but because she owns her songwriting and her craft in a way that really inspires. She’s commemorating 10 years of Hero, which is a no-skips album for me, and there’s something incredibly special about going down memory lane with your favorite artists IRL. We form such attachments to the music of our lives, and being in a room full of peopel who feel the same way at the same time is among the better parts of community in this day and age.

All that said, send me book and TV show recs? The queue is begging for ideas.

Until next time,

MD

To address the Coachella Valley’s doctor and nursing shortages, local health-care institutions are looking at ways to get more locals trained and educated in the field.

The Desert Healthcare District and Foundation in late May approved a new five-year strategic plan. The plan offers a framework for the funding decisions, partnerships and projects DHCD takes on—and the first of four pillars is workforce development, which includes recruiting and retaining more health-care workers.

“I think it’s important for us to make sure that we really do grow our own, and one of the ways that we’re going to be able to attract that workforce is by making it easier for them to go to school,” said DHCD board president Kimberly Barraza in an interview with the Independent.

A DHCD market analysis from March 2023 identified a shortage of 236 physicians, primarily in internal medicine, pediatrics, obstetrics and gynecology. That includes a shortage of 70 pediatricians, based on the region’s population—a shortage that forces some families to leave the area for care.

But in recent years, local organizations have launched new efforts to train health-care workers. The desert and the broader Inland Empire as a whole are experiencing one of the state’s worst health-care worker shortages—which means it’s very good news that College of the Desert this year graduated a record 91 registered nurses, more than doubling previous class sizes.

Read the full story at CVIndependent.com here

More updates coming soon!

Heather Rogers’ oldest child had a stomachache on his 13th birthday. He went to school and came home with the same complaint. When he started vomiting, she took him to the local emergency room—where an MRI showed appendicitis.

The Yucca Valley family was sent to Loma Linda University Medical Center to get treatment, an 80-minute, $1,500 ambulance ride. Another child whose appendix had already burst needed to be treated first, meaning Rogers and her child had to wait.

“We didn’t have a choice, because they couldn’t let him out of care, but he had to get to the hospital somehow,” she said. “But it was scary, because we didn’t get care promptly. We had to wait in the hospital. We had to wait on the ride. We had to wait at Loma Linda.”

Our region suffers from a health-care workforce shortage. Such shortages are becoming a nationwide problem—but here, they’re particularly troublesome.

The Inland Empire—defined here as all of Riverside and San Bernardino counties—is a 27,000-square-mile region of diverse landscapes that is home to 4.7 million people, but not enough doctors to care for them. The California Health Care Foundation’s latest regional report shows the Inland Empire has just 229 physicians per 100,000 residents, compared to the statewide figure of 358 physicians. And it has just 42 primary-care physicians and specialists per 100,000 residents, compared to the recommended 60 to 80—among the worst ratios in the state.

For patients, the day-to-day reality of physician shortages means more than having to drive a long way during emergencies. Accessing health care can become something like a second job: spending hours on the phone to find available providers who take the right insurance, making regular trips to coastal counties to bring sick kids to specialists, and waiting weeks or even months for appointments.

Rogers, a single mom of three, works in telehealth and has private insurance, yet she said she needs to head to Victorville or the Coachella Valley to find an ear, nose and throat doctor for one of her children. For her own care, she uses virtual appointments for medication refills and therapy—but she currently doesn’t have a primary care provider. She had been getting care at an all-female practice in the Morongo Basin, where she felt comfortable and heard. But it closed several years ago, and she hasn’t been able to find the right fit since.

“Going through all of that process just to get a letter in the mail that says, ‘We’re closing,’ is so defeating,” she said. “There are not a lot of good options. You feel like you finally found a solution to your issue, and then it’s just the carpet ripped out from underneath you.”

Read the full story here

Want to share your health care access story with me? I’ll be working on this topic for as long as I can find places to run the stories.

Our corner of the world is still pretty chilly, for spring desert temps, but I love the feeling of still being able to layer up in sweaters and blanket jackets. I didn’t spend as much of late winter as active as I wanted to be (more on that later) but I’m finally getting outside and moving my body more and it reminds me why I was so called to live in a open, rural area. Fresh air and grand vistas are a balm for a tired soul.

But the most important update to share with y’all, the first to know outside of my IRL crew: I’m growing another baby, and he’ll be here in September! I can’t wait to have a house full of little boys to run wild with, but I have to admit I am getting nervous about the cleanliness/smell factor. Is there an AI hack to fix that yet? In any event, can confirm that my second pregnancy is about as miserable and magical as the first, except with the added bonus of a three-year-old who likes to climb on me and wants me to “tell my brother Nico says hi.” Be still my heart!

But pregnancy is hard, and full of indignities. I spent most of February and March working from bed, eating carbs and going to sleep at 8 p.m. Health care is still a nightmare to navigate, and I’m frustrated on the daily by a closet full of clothes that don’t fit. But in the past few weeks I’m regaining my energy, getting more protein and sneaking in more dog walks/yoga/gym sessions. I do feel like a horseback ride and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc is really what would make me feel like myself again, but alas, that will have to wait. I don’t consider myself a risk-averse person — and I wouldn’t have the rich life that I do if I was — but some things are worth sacrificing for, and making sure this kiddo gets a healthy start is my main job right now.

But I still have other jobs, to be clear. Let’s get into it.

Health care reporting

This year, I was thrilled to be named a California Health Equity Fellow by the USC Center for Health Journalism. I went to Los Angeles for a fantastic four-day training to help me prepare for a season of reporting on challenges to health care access in California’s desert communities.

I applied for this grant because it’s a lived experience by me and so many other people — either you can’t find the care you need, doctors close up shop, everyone is booked out for months, and specialists about 1 hour away. And that’s just for typical stuff, there are folks who have to go all the way to the coast for some chronic illness treatments or procedures. You might say this is what we get for living away from big cities/services.

But the reality is the country is facing a healthcare workforce shortage and systems are collapsing despite billions of dollars in profit at the company’s largest insurers. And as with most things, it’s the poorest and most vulnerable communities who feel the brunt of it first. Make it make sense, as the kids say.

So now I’m funneling these questions and concerns into my journalism. My first story went live last week. It looks at the ways providers in the Coachella Valley are trying to figure out how to get care to people who are undocumented amid the continued fears of ICE raids and state-level insurance changes.

If you want to republish this story or have me on your show to talk about it, please get in touch!

The world of retail

Work has been busy, which is a good problem to have in many ways. I’m officially an editor now (which I love!) but it comes with a lot of duties beyond reporting. I’m curating two weekly newsletters, creating social content, co-hosting a podcast and generally getting more into the weeds on how to make our publication grow and thrive.

Last month I wrote a story I wanted to tackled for awhile that looks at the “screen-free” electronics becoming more mainstream. Think Wi-Fi enabled landlines, digital cameras where you can’t see the pics until you upload them, and smart watches that don’t connect to the Internet. It’s a fascinating space given how much digital fatigue we all have. I predict we’ll see more startups like Tin Can, Camp Snap and Cosmo cropping up that are unbundling phone functions into their own standalone devices. Other recent highlights:

• Maternity brand Ingrid & Isabel launches first Walmart line

• Brands share lessons on the ‘messy middle’ of building AI tools

• How Target plans to own the baby category
  

We’ve also published one of my favorite podcasts to date, on the growing debate around electronic shelf labels. If you haven’t yet, please subscribe here on Apple or Spotify or wherever you pod!

Eyes & ears

Here’s what I’ve been reading/listening/watching:

• I recently finished Stephen King’s “Holly” and it’s got me back on a horror/mystery kick. Seeking recommendations in this vein please!

• In keeping with my tradition of being about a year late to bestsellers, I also whipped through “The Correspondent” by Virginia Evans. I love a good format shake-up, and genuinely loved the main character in a way I usually don’t.

• There’s some good stuff on the Mumford & Sons album, much to my surprise. Yeah yeah, hipster banjo jokes here, and the whole thing is a bit much, but there’s some standout collaborations like “Rubber Band Man” with Hozier.

• Have you heard the new Olivia Rodrigo song? If you haven’t, proceed with caution, ‘cause I get it stuck in my brain daily.

• Any and all things Minions. Blame the toddler. But it’s reminding me there is so much more space for silly in the day than we realize.

• I recently discovered a really awesome YouTube channel called Playing4Change that records gorgeous, multicultural arrangements of songs we know and love, and it’s been a great addition to family screen time.

That’s all for now, though I am hopeful to not stay away so long next time. Until then,

MD

It stung a bit, because at the time there wasn’t anything I wanted to be any less. But looking back, that wasn’t because I wasn’t called to make things. But I was afraid. I did not want to end up a starving artist, and I did not want to end up a failure. So I put a lot of my artistic intentions on the back burner, and pursued what I thought might be a stable career in journalism (hah!) and here we are today.

These days, the world is pressuring most people and households in one way or another. Whether its finances or loneliness or health conditions or very real threats to our families and livelihoods, there’s so much that comes against us. We’re tired, and maybe more than a little scared. In response, it so, so easy — and even comfortable — to shrink back. And that is a sensible reaction, because we have a lot to be cynical about! We have a lot to protect, and only have so much to give.

Against this backdrop, though, I keep coming back to art. I come back to creativity. I come back to music and writing and dance and performance and making stuff for its own beautiful sake. We built some Lego sets on Christmas Eve and even that kind of creation didn’t light up a part of my brain I had almost forgotten about. I somehow have three guitars, a keyboard and an amp.

When I look back on 2025, my favorite moments involved making things — whether a dance production, a podcast or playing music. The times my mind felt the quietest? When I was writing, playing, or dancing. The pastimes or events that brought me the most joy? The concerts, the late night reading binges, the sing-a-longs.

In preparation for the year ahead, I’ve spent the last few days wondering what I should work on next. I’m hoping I have just the right amount of ideas. Expect more from this newsletter, for one, and maybe some songs and stories that deserve to see the light of day. I’d like to perform more, on stages of all sorts. We’ll see if I have the willpower to see these projects through — and if not, I trust some other idea will take its place and show itself when the time is right. Because if there is one thing that is uniquely human, it is creativity — and no bot or government or program can take that away from us.

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The world of retail

Q4 is the busiest time of the year for retail, so it’s also a fairly busy time for retail reporters. I did a host of holiday coverage but also took some time to look into bigger stories and trends that piqued my interest — often in the kid or health care arenas. It’s pretty cool to get an inside look at how some of the buzziest brands are looking to change the consumer game — like how the diaper company Coterie finding a new home at Mammoth in what is likely one of the biggest acquisitions of the year.

We’re also having so much fun with the podcast and have had some of our most-listened to episodes in the past few weeks — expect more to come next year from me digging into the behind-the-scenes of how and why we shop the way we do. Here’s a few recent highlights:

Podcast: Inside the private equity playbook to revive Claire’s

Podcast: How Bobbie’s brand playbook led to landing Cardi B

Performing arts updates

One of my highlights of this year was getting to know more of my neighbors and community through our nonprofit performance collective Dance Mojave. There’s something really magical about co-creating in person when it’s just for the love of the game, and our shows & gatherings this year have been such an amazing thing to be a part of. But speaking as part of the crew that is organizing our production, it’s also been incredibly taxing in some ways, and I’ve learned so much about what I value and how I collaborate. More tangibly, I’ve learned a lot about what it means to put on live productions and I hope I can keep working that muscle in the future.

In 2026, we’re hoping to put on another outdoor site-specific spring performance, and keep The Desert Nutcracker rolling. I invite you to keep up with our dance happenings over on Instagram — or if you missed any of this year’s you shows, you can purchase a download of our performances here!

Eyes & ears

We are SO spoiled the past few months with good music. Brandi Carlile’s “Returning to Myself” probably tops it for of the latest of the new releases. Every time I listen to it, there are new pieces that creep into my soul, and the decision to put a track like “Human” as track 2 tells you all you need to know. I’m also really enjoying “Matter of Time” by Laufvey. She has such a wonderful voice, and the ways she mixes genres is so original, and incredibly tasteful.

I’m doing my damndest to make time for TV — and I don’t mean this as a weird flex, I genuinely love the format as a storytelling vehicle, but it’s just not a high priority for how I use my time. But I binged the latest season of “The Diplomat”in three days when it came out and that was probably one of the greatest things I’ve seen all year. I’m now making my way through “Poldark” which is getting a little soap opera-y and I don’t mind it. On the film side, the only new movie I watched this year was “Frankenstein,” which I may have to watch again because I loved it so much and it struck me so deep. Mary Shelley’s masterpiece is one of the few books I bother to re-read so I was nervous about going into a film adaptation that had the potential to turn my interpretations on their head. But in the end, del Torro took so many storytelling liberties compared to the original novel that it really became its own story, more in line with the other film adaptations out there. Setting aside the brilliant performances, I loved the high drama of it all.

In the book world, one of my favorite reads this year was Erik Larsen’s “Dead Wake,” about the sinking of the Lusitania. I think it rivals “The Spelled and the Vile” as his best work. But something about that era really struck me, so I’m going through WWI catalog — I tore through Adam Hochschild’s terrific but intense book “To End All Wars: A Story of Protest and Patriotism in the First World War” that chronicles the often overlooked perspectives of those who opposed the war. I’m now onto Barbara Tuchman’s “The Guns of August.” It’s something of a joke now between me and my husband, that I’m in my military history era. But there’s something about looking back at the state of the world and scale of destruction from more than a hundred years ago that feels incredibly valuable to me, and it shapes my perspective when I look at conflicts today. Humans capacity to destroy is as big or bigger than our capacity to create. It’s up to each of to decide where to put our energies.

If you’ve made it this year, happiest of wishes to you and yours in the New Year. And if you just scrolled to the kicker, I salute your efficiency and wish you the best, too.

Until next time,

MD

Today, I am inspired to share a favorite past clip that ran in The Desert Sun six years ago when the community began a campaign to restore the Plaza Theatre in downtown Palm Springs. I remember what a stretch it felt like — the millions of dollars needed, the architectural challenges of old structures. But improbable does not mean impossible, and the grand opening is scheduled for Dec. 1.

The Plaza also has a special place in my heart as I was working on this story when I met my now-husband, the artist Zach J.F. Boyles. We bonded quickly over our shared passions for art, creativity and community, and I can’t wait for date nights and family outings at The Plaza come 2026.

Bravo to all involved in this magnificent, Herculean effort to bring a new performance space online. I’ll see you there!

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Glamour fades, but good bones stand the test of time.

So goes the story of the Plaza Theatre, an architectural gem in the middle of downtown Palm Springs that has sat vacant for four years, patiently waiting for audiences to once again fill its orange velvet seats in the timeless atmosphere of a 1930s movie house.

The Plaza fell empty in 2015 after the Fabulous Palm Springs Follies ended its 23-year residency in the 800-seat, city-owned theater. When its doors re-opened for a tour for prospective architects in 2018, confetti from the final show still clung to the dusty floor.

Talk of a restoration has swirled through the town for years, but without any movement or agreement between interested parties and the city. But this fall, a $12 million fundraising drive is gaining steam with five- and six-figure donations from local architectural groups and star-studded publicity efforts.

Read the full story at The Desert Sun.

It’s wonderful to see the thing you love celebrated by your offspring and develop a shared interest. Music is something of a non-negotiable in our house, and sometimes we wonder if we created a rock monster.

I picked a playlist called “Laurel Canyon Legends,” courtesy of Spotify’s algorithm. “California Dreaming” kicked us off, then into “Turn! Turn! Turn!” by The Byrds.

My child, in all seriousness, looks at me and says “This is not rock and roll!”

This was one of those moments where you don’t want laugh too hard, or you risk a scene that a therapist will hear about one day. But man! What a charming kid. For as many challenging things are about parenting, there are infinitely more moments of joy and love and wonder, and this was one of them. I’m raising a genre purist! Hilarious stuff.

Cut to a day and a half later, as I sat in a yoga class for the first time in recent memory. With the late summer sun filtering through the windows, I sat quietly with my eyes closed and felt the ground supporting me. That cute moment with my kid flashed into my mind, but instead of making me laugh this time, it made me weep.

I cannot understand how we, as a human race, accept the continued death and abuse of children through gun violence, war, famine, etc. I will not get into the details of those horrors here — there are plenty of information out there if you are brave enough to open your eyes to it — but I am feeling an awakening of sorts. Being a mother is part of my identity now, and I’ve found my footing enough in it to realize that extends to relating and empathizing with other families. So how does that manifest? How can I reach and help those faced with the unimaginable, from my corner of relative privilege and stability?

So far, I am thinking through more stories to tell about public health, violence, community care, and community organizing. It isn’t enough — nothing we can do will never be enough, save reach back into Heaven and find the souls we’ve lost — but conversations and stories are my stock and trade. So I can shout from whatever platforms I’m able to get — there are no such thing as other people’s children.

Closer to home

Since the beginning of the year, I’ve even writing about housing in the desert and development issues. A big part of what I wanted to understand was how much housing are we building here in the Morongo Basin. I finally got some answers thanks to the data gurus at the Southern California Association of Governments — and it’s pretty telling: We just are not building enough affordable housing. Grateful to get this out there and hopefully stimulate some much-needed conversation

The Desert Nutcracker Returns

I’m thrilled to once again play an onstage and behind-the-scenes role with Dance Mojave for our THIRD (!!!) production in under a year (!!!!). We’re putting on The Desert Nutcracker at the Joshua Tree Retreat Center again, an event that sold out and was a highlight of the year for many participants and audience members.

If you’re interested in support our production with a donation or in-kind gift for our silent auction, find more info here!

Having dance back in my life is personally fantastic — physically, artistically, spiritually. But making sure Dance Mojave exists is an even bigger reward. I’m a big believer in community participation, and creating the opportunities we want for ourselves and our families. As Rainn Wilson said in an older Rich Roll interview that’s currently making the rounds…

“It is so important to foster joy and hope in everything we do,” he says, especially in the younger generation that’s dealing with a mental health crisis. “That’s the most important task in front of us.”

The world of retail

It’s a bit wild to me that I’ve spent more than half of 2025 working as a podcaster! Things that weren’t on my Bingo card, but have turned out to be a real treat. I’m really enjoying the conversations I get to have with super smart folks. Some of my recent favorites include;

• Our live recording with Mike Duda, the VC at Bullish behind brands like Harry’s and Casper. Also a fellow central/western New Yorker!! Love ya, Mike.

• Sonia Lapinsky from Alix Partners dropped some serious knowledge about the consumer landscape. TLDR; we’re in a for a weird Q4!

And I will forever be sharing this piece on the rise of the postpartum care market with Willow & TotSquad. There is SO much opportunity for products & brands specialized in the new parent segment, and it’s one I’m eager to continue to watch.

I also wrote a fun story with the folks at Discogs about how a Taylor Swift album cycle lifts all vinyl boats. As someone who almost exclusively paints my nails in glitter these days, I’m v stoked to be in my Showgirl era this October, come what may.

Eyes & ears

In the book realm I’m still on a WWII kick, which is a strange habit for someone who spent most of 2021-2023 ensconced in Elin Hildebrand novels. What can I say, Geminis contain multitudes — and right now no day is complete without a few chapters of “The Splendid and the Vile” by Erik Larsen. Also: I often hear from people that they want to read more. Guess what, you can — just head your local library! Or here’s 20% of your first purchase at Bookshop.org, where I just pre-ordered the next Elizabeth Gilbert memoir “All the Way to the River.”

As for video entertainment: I’m so behind on everything though can’t stop thinking about “The Gilded Age.” We’re watching “Stick,” which as a fan of Owen Wilson and Marc Maron is really becoming something of a comfort watch for me. There’s a thousand movies I’d like to sit down and watch, but saving that for another season — especially since a new season of “The Diplomat” is going to drop next month. Binged the shit out of that on cross-country flight last fall and it filled a hole that “Scandal” and “The West Wing” left.

Musically, we’re in an embarassment of riches. I kind of agree with the NYT that the new Sabrina Carpenter album “Man’s Best Friend” felt rushed, but I also really love “Nobody’s Son” and can’t get that melody out of my head, she is still delightful on many levels. I’m also really digging the singles from Ruston Kelly off his album that comes out next month — if there was an artist whose musical style I wanted to most emulate, I think I’d have to say its his for the blend of Americana acoustics, poppy chorus melodies & Swiftian poetics. Regarding other new releases, the new Goose album is fire and super fun driving music, and I’m also really stoked for the new Goldie Boutilier record “Goldie Montana” after catching her sound check at Pappy’s this summer.

Also, there’s a new version of Wild Pink’s “The Fences of Stonehenge” with John Moreland that stopped me in my tracks. I had the absolute pleasure of catching Wild Pink at Pappy & Harriet’s this summer at an incredibly intimate indoor show, and I can confirm they are the Real Deal, as well as The Future of American indie rock. Too many licks to mention, great players on every instrument who each take their time to shine but come together in service of the whole — and brought the trumpet on tour just to play “Disintegrate.” Can’t get enough of them. Plus they’re Western NYers!!

But if you know me, you know I’m never bound by release dates for glomming onto something new, or once again. Today I’m listening to “No Closer to Heaven,” which is a dubious mental health choice when I have quite hte to-do list, but damn I forgot what a perfect no-skips this is. The Wonder Years posted about this being the 10th anniversary of the record and teased some new remix and remastered versions coming soon, so it felt like a good time to re-orient myself. And I was immediately struck by how some of the social and cultural observations are even more chilling in 2025 than there were in 2015, as far as the crippling powers of industry and capitalism, the destruction of addiction and the pain of growing up and losing those you love along the way. Damn you, Dan Campbell, for getting me in deep in my feels today, but truly there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

Thanks, as always, for reading,

MD

As I reflect on 20 years of grief and remembrance, I am called to share it once again. Not only am I attempting to re-assemble a personal essay in this Substack, but I feel it’s important to continue to memorialize someone who lives in my heart forever.

Names have been changed to protect privacy.

Thank you, as always, for reading.

MD

TW: hospitals, death, grief

For the first time in seven years, no one will be at the hill to light a candle.

This is very sad to me, but we knew this day would come. We talked about it, wondering how long we'd all be close enough - regionally and emotionally - to get together, commemorate, cry, wonder. But seven years went by, and here it is.

We started the tradition shortly after Alice's funeral, which felt formal and social and unbelievably sad. I don't remember crying during the church service; I do remember eating a turkey sandwich in the vestibule that tasted like cardboard, the first bites of real food I'd had in days. I remember the lines of people, classmates and community members, wrapping around the church, and wondering why some of these people were here and giving me hugs, and then I remember Joe grabbing me by the shoulders with tears in his eyes when it was clear that neither of us was processing what was going on around us.

Shortly after, a group of us brought candles to the hill where we'd spent many summer nights, the one at my elementary school down the street from my house, and the one I'd walked to from my grandmother's for years on end. It became the de facto central spot of Joe, Alice and Ash, and I for sneaking out, meeting up and making out. We'd call out meet-ups "snizzling," why exactly I do not remember, but the invented verb worked. "Hey, what time do you want to snizzle?" That was the best summer. You could see the whole school from the top of the hill, the baseball diamond and the soccer field, and the trees obscured extending suburbia. It felt peaceful, private, ours.

One year later, we sat at the hill again, feeling lost, missing a limb. The hospital felt lightyears away though it had only been a week or so...the timeline was as fuzzy then as it is for me today. We lit candles, talked, cried and laughed then sat in silence, played Guster on our iPods, and let the candles burn as we walked away.

I think of her all the time. Less now, then I used to maybe, and that is a shameful reality, but the thoughts come on with the same wistful intensity. But the heart-heavying truth that someone so beautiful could die at 16...that means more to me now than it did then. One of the last phone calls we had was about how excited we were for college, how we wanted senior year to hurry up and leave so we could go somewhere new. She was thinking about going to school for art, or maybe English, possibly at this one private school near Albany. I wanted to go to Boston or New York, somewhere glamorous. We'd definitely go shopping together for dorm room furnishings, though, and we'd totally visit on the weekends. I remember Alice used to say that, when she decided to start drinking alcohol, she'd never want a screwdriver, because liquor would taint the purity of her beloved orange juice. Somewhat ironically, I am drinking a mimosa as I write this, thinking maybe she would've come around.

She was better than me, better than most, in so many ways.

Finding out about what happened was surreal, fate and my worst nightmares converged. I was sitting on my couch in the plant-filled, window-paneled Florida room with Joe's older brother, feeling flirty and happy and thrilled he wanted to hang out with me. His dad called and I instantly knew something was wrong. His hands started shaking and then he told me what happened. We rushed to the hospital, and I kept saying "Maybe it's not that bad, maybe she'll be OK." I remember him saying something about possible brain damage.

I remember the first night at the hospital, sitting in a chair outside her room, my friends scattered around. A nurse gave me one of those flimsy hospital blankets and told me usually, they don't let this many people in the ICU overnight, but they'd make an exception. I half-slept, hearing gray words and whispered feelings of the nurses and Alice's family, "Can you believe they're all staying?," "This is so sad," "Do they think she'll wake up?"

Seeing Alice's dad was the hardest. You could tell he was trying to be strong, but a man can only take so much loss and this was his only little girl. I remember how he'd gather us all for updates after such-and-such test or scan. They had to wait for her brain swelling to go down some before they'd know how bad the damage was and if she could wake up, something like that. The medical version of what was happening to my friend was beyond me, at that point, I just wanted to know if she'd ever be her again.

She was so small in that hospital bed, she was a tiny girl as it was. But a spunky tiny, you noticed Alice in a room. Her arrival at Eastridge was not uncontroversial. Who was this adorable girl with the short hair and Snapples and why was she befriending all our crushes? We became friends when I found out she liked Brand New, and we were pretty inseparable from that point on, the beginning of a social circle that exists, on some level, to this day. Here, in the hospital, the looming monitors and tubes in her mouth made Alice seem so small, and weak, contrary to everything I knew her to be. Her eyes were shut, but clearly swollen with fluid. Her dark curly pixie cut was matted back against her bandaged skull, her toes were polished.

We made playlists, full of Elliott Smith and Guster and Jimmy Eat World, songs we knew she'd love. We drew pictures, so many of my friends are amazingly talented artists. We bought journals to circulate, making sure they had the right looks to them ("Circles, not squares"), and wrote our feelings out, messages to Alice and God. We sat next to her bed and held her hand, I remember telling the nurse when I saw blood coming out of her left ear. I remember her telling me that can happen in situations like this, don't worry, and all I could think was how fucking unbelievable this was. I still don't know what happened in that car.

Crisis friendships formed, even one between Joe and Alice's new boyfriend Eric who went to a different school. They'd met at Alexandria Bay -- Alice loved the water, and the long drive there, too, so she could read and write and think. Ash and I began talking again, whatever we were fighting about instantly became irrelevant when faced with the loss of this mutual cornerstone to our existence. Alice had so many friends, some we'd never met from her past school and from the bay, and we shared our stories and memories to pass the time. We kept talismans close -- the friendship bracelets she made, the notes, the decorated song lyrics, the mix CDs. Everything that was her favorite became a lifeline.

Six days in the hospital, living in this haze, going home to shower and fake sleep and going right back. My parents asked me if I wanted to sleep at home one night. No, I told them. No, because if this is the last time I get to see her, I need to be there. Where else would I be?

I remember not knowing what to say most of the time. I remember crying lots, then being unable to cry. I remember throwing up in hospital bathrooms. I remember us dragging a couch from one lounge into the other so we'd have more room to hang out. I remember laughter feeling awkward but necessary, as we distracted ourselves between updates.

That Saturday, doctors told Alice’s dad what was happening. She wouldn't be able to breathe on her own. She had limited brain activity. Nothing else we can do, doctors said. At least, this is how I remember it. All I knew was that my friend was going to die. This wonderful girl I'd spent so much time with, shared so much with, was not going to make it.

They brought in some therapist to talk to us. We sat in a big circle in a conference room. No one really had anything to say. Ash and I made jokes about each other, feigning normalcy in the face of something so horrible. We were such kids, who thought we'd knew it all and felt it all, only to realize none of us can ever know anything for certain.

I said goodbye to Alice that night, holding her tiny, tiny hand in both of mine and saying "I'll see you someday." I didn't want to go home, so I called a couple trusted girlfriends to pick me up and drive me to the pier. The water was so, so stormy, and the sky was thick with black clouds, stars invisible. The world was menacing and awful and I screamed and screamed and screamed, mostly nonsense but a lot of "whys." I think we went to the diner after, and I ordered black coffee.

Senior year started shortly thereafter, and I was a shell of who I was the year before. I left campus when I wasn't supposed to, smoked cigarettes outside the courtyard window. I became very ill in October, stayed home for a month with mono and slept through most of it. Back at school, none of us wanted to be there, but we made the most of it, I think. We didn't talk about her much -- Joe least of all -- and we pretended we were into what we were doing. I re-started the school newspaper to help pass time, taught extra hours at the dance studio on the weekends. Every now and then one of us would reach out to one another to cry, to remember her, or to pontificate on the meaning of life and death. We knew none of us would ever be the same, but we were stronger. We were prepared. Nothing would ever hurt this much again, we knew.

The following summer, before we left for college, we still lit candles at the hill even though it wasn't the exact anniversary. We were going our separate ways, but we'd be back, we told each other. We'd always be back. Through the years the attendance has varied depending on who is in town. I've missed two of these events myself, though I made sure to call and find out when it was, made sure they'd remember me there, too. Mostly, lately, we talk about how fast life seems to be changing, how we're growing up. And we've talked about how our memories of her still live somewhere in the back of our minds, but it's harder to see her than it was the year before.

I cling to the details I have, of her gorgeous brown eyes and tiny hands, the shirts she always wore and the purse she often slung across her shoulder. The way she'd rub your nose when you were sad, and it was weird, but it helped calm you down and made you smile. How she volunteered at summer Bible camps. The incredible sculptures she could make out of clay, ceramics, Snapple caps, whatever you gave her to transform. The amazing things she could do with Sharpies. The way we made fun of our pre-calc teacher in class and pretended we didn't care but always tried to ace the tests. Her poetry. The times she talked me off the ledge. The depth of the darkness she had herself and tried to hide, and the strength she'd always seem to find.

She would've been amazing. She would've graduated, gone on to school, gotten rid of so much that was bringing her down. She would've been the coolest indie chick on campus. Her talents as an artist, a writer, a thinker, would've become even more obvious. They would've gotten her far. She would've been brilliant. She already was.

Seven years. When you're 17 you don't know what it feels like to look back yet, you're too busy focused on the present. High school is a bubble, these people are your world and the future is so far away. But now? On this side of perspective? If you told me that I am who I am, that I've done what I've done, I never would've dreamed life could be like this. But then again, at 17 I didn't have much of an idea of what it was to be out in the world... I wonder if I would've made different choices if Alice hadn't died.

Sometimes I think that her death gave us all a better shot at this life, in some cruel backwards way. We were talented but tortured and I wonder if the reality we were faced with at such an impressionable age gave us a perspective that no matter how hard life became, you'd be able to find your way out of it. Those were some of the darkest days, that week and the months thereafter, I've ever felt...by comparison, depression became a selfish endeavor and I think of all this when I begin to feel sorry for myself, when goddammit I am still alive aren't I? I've made it this far, right? No point in giving up now.

Your identity shapeshifts after loss, you adapt to a new world minus this person who previously helped define it...but being able to remember her with others is a gift. Her 16, nearly 17, years on this earth were a gift, and we were lucky enough to receive it, blessed enough to learn from her. In the years since Alice's death I've been so grateful to still be able to hold onto others who felt the same. Seven years and I still love them, respect them, wish them all the best in the world. I think this might be the start, though, of paths truly diverging. Where to, exactly, I don't know, but I do know we're not together lighting candles at the hill this weekend. That says enough...but I know, I have to know, that they wish we were all together as much as I do.

I soon saw this elephant wasn’t alone. There were at least half a dozen trucks heading in the same direction! I snapped a couple photos at a red light and then quickly Googled around to figure out WTF I was looking at.

Turns out I was a I witnessed part of the cross-country caravan of The Great Elephant Migration, an ecological awareness project that’s traveled the country since last summer. Indigenous artists created the massive elephants out of lantana, a weed in India that crowds out natural species. Then the elephants were shuttled across the U.S. in the colorful pick-up trucks by The Matriarchy, making stops from Rhode Island to California to set up temporary art installations with the goal of raising $10 million for partner organizations. As the website explains:

The Great Elephant Migration is a global fundraising adventure to amplify Indigenous knowledge and inspire the human race, to share space. A collaboration between Indigenous artisans, contemporary artists and cultural institutions, it is raising millions of dollars to power human-wildlife coexistence projects and protect migratory animals making spectacular journeys across land, rivers, skies and oceans.

As someone who is frequently thinking about the intersection of our modern world and the environment, the who message really spoke to me. It felt fated, somehow, that I got to see a slice of this cross through my town because I happen to head out to get groceries before work.

Beyond the message itself, the whole scene reminded me how important it is to make a scene when you have something to fight for. In this case, the organizers of The Great Elephant Migration are fighting for continued coexistence of humans and the natural environment, a dynamic that in modern times has been at best taken for granted and at worst destroyed. The message is heavy. But the delivery was light and absurd and somewhat fantastical, a reminder of what we can create when we come together around shared values and beliefs. And the whole project — from the art to the trucks to the website — all felt so entirely human. No finely-tuned AI talking points, no over-polished imagery, no digital signage or QR codes or calls to action begging me to register or subscribe or whatever. Just handwoven giants made of natural materials, a powerful shared message, and hundreds of people coming together to make it happen.

The whole project underscored my belief that making art is always worth it, no matter how many people read it or see it. It’s much easier said than done, and I know too well how the drumbeat of daily life can zap your creative energy before tackling the “bigger” projects you dream about. But given the nature of our disparate, disconnected world, it feels more important than ever to come up with new ways of communicating our values and beliefs, on the off chance they might resonate with someone else and forge a connection. We can experiment, we can journey, we can adventure — and we can do it with a “why” that no AI chatbot could ever be able to mimic.

Onto the links.

The retail world

I’ve had some really fun stories in my wheelhouse lately at Modern Retail. One involved interviewing the popular toy brand Lovevery about their new secondhand marketplace so people can sell thier toys they’ve grown out of. Always fun to break news — especially around something that’s so top of mind for me as a mom who really hates buying new things, but really loves buying fun toys for my little dude. I also looked at the trend of secondhand furniture — because it’s not just vintage or thrift stores anymore, but furniture stores and brands like Ikea that are selling previously used goods. It’s a win-win-win in a lot of ways (if brands can figure out the logistics and margins of it).

But most of my reporting energy lately is channeled into the Modern Retail Podcast. I’m booking guests and writing scripts and researching all kinds of topics in the retail/business realm, and it’s been a really fun way to contribute to topical conversations that are hard to tackle in a 400-700 word news story. On our latest episode, I interviewed the design powerhouse Cassey Ho of Popflex Active about how she and her team crack down on “dupes.” Intellectual property is a knotty world but it’s one that I think is incredibly important to be aware of at a time when ideas move lightening fast from screen to screen and trends are popping up and vanishing just as quick. Give it a listen, like, share, subscribe, etc. — and if you have any feedback or suggestions for future segments, hit me up!

Leave a comment

Closer to home

I’ve covered housing and the California housing crisis in particular for a few ersnow, and it never ceases to still me just how difficult our systems make it for people to stay housed. For my latest at CV Independent story, I toured the new expansion at the CV Rescue Mission in Indio, which has added around 60 ne beds specifically for women dn children. Development director Scott Wolf showed me around and explained how the fastest-growing population hey see coign through the shelter is women and children, as well as elderly people.

Homelessness is one of those things that we think only happens to “other people,” but touring the shelter and my passing interactions iwth people there reminded meow precarious it is to stay housed these days. Read the full story here or in the July edition of CV Independent.

I’m still looking for a few more housing-oriented stories to write this year, if you are a desert dweller with any insights to share about renting, buying, vacation homes, permitting, or just general life in the desert questions to explore. Email me or send a message here!

Eyes and ears

I finished “Homo Deus” by Yuval Noah Harari. Man! It was kind of a bear to get through but I’m glad I did —- the premise is essentially what the future of humanity will look like in the age of AI and data-driven technology. For a book published in 2015 it has some eerily prescient notions about the way that algorithms can take over, but there were some premises parts that felt quite reaching, especially when it came to specifics (unfortunately we have yet to solve famine, disease and war as the book seems to conclude we will. And there is a whole chunk about how Microsoft’s Cortana will be making decisions for us, which maybe is more aligned with how people now use Siri or ChatGPT).

After pondering the future of humanity at length, I went to reach for a palette cleanser and couldn’t find anything suitable. So I dove into “Lincoln in the Bardo” by George Saunders, which is not at all a light read for someone looking to unwind before bed! But it is an extremely beautifully read, and it’s been awhile since I’ve had some real literary fiction in my life. The way Saunders changes voice and perspective is masterful and wild and totally inimitable, like reading a play. But it is also quite heavy subject matter, so when my Libby app told me Lisa Jewell’s “The Family Upstairs” was in my queue, I put Saunders down to get my mystery fix. Once I finish “Bardo,” I’m thinking I might check out Kate Spencer’s latest.

On the music side, there are far more new songs and bands to dive into than I ever have free time to absorb. I’m still finding my way around the new Maren Morris album “Dreamsicle,” with “because of course,” “cut!” and “this is how a woman leaves” probably being the standout tracks for me. I can’t stop singing “The Kill” by Maggie Rogers, so I recorded it for my newly revived Instagram account. I’m also really into this song “Good Time Traveler” by The River Arkansas, which I think I found on an algorithm-generated Spotify playlist after listening to copious amounts of My Morning Jacket. There is a lot I don’t like about the Spotify UX and overall interface at this juncture in music, but I’ve got to hand it to them on the discovery front. Maybe technology doesn’ make great art, but it can sure help you find it.

Thanks, as always, for reading,

MD

I immediately knew they were coming from the Marine base in Twentynine Palms. We’ve seen military convoys and caravans before around here, but never this large. And it never hit me this hard. Because given the news that day, I knew they were heading to Los Angeles amid the spate of ICE arrests and associated protests.

How strange, how bizarre, how dystopian, I thought, to see those whose job it is to protect our country and our way of life heading to face off with those who are exercising their First Amendment right to protect our country and our way of life. Something about the visual made it so clear we’re at a fork in the road. What are our shared values anymore? Where is the common humanity? Are there foundations truths we can believe in? I remember being kid and knowing tht there were different politic parties and different communes, btu I also remember the us-against-the-world feeling of being Team USA. We haven’t felt that in a long time.

But then over the weekend, the “No Kings” rallies around the country defied expectations. In my neck of the woods of southern California, people turned out in Republican strongholds like Carlsbad, Redlands and Rancho Mirage. Spanning demographics and likely belief systems, thousands upon thousands of people spent their precious Saturdays filling the street san making their voices heard. I watched the scenes unfold while holding a napping two-year-old, and I wondered how I will one day explain to him what the world was like before he could remember.

No political party, no one elected official, can rewrite our systems and reset our social balances to repair this damage that’s been done. But we can, action by action, phone call by phone call, ballot by ballot, show up for shared humanity — and maybe, from there, we can chart a way forward. At the very least, I want to tell my son we went down fighting.

Closer to home

My latest at CV Independent looked at the prospect of a development in Joshua Tree that has upset many locals because of the scale, luxury and infrastructure around the development. As I wrote:

LoveMore Ranch would be the first gated homeowners’ association in the Joshua Tree area. Neighboring properties along Alta Loma are now dotted with yard signs saying “Stop LoveMore Ranch” and “Protect Joshua Tree,” plugging a website that lays out the concerns about the project.

Click here to read the full piece, published with support from the IE Journalism Innovation Hub + Fund of the Inland Empire Community Foundation. I’ve had a new spring in my step around this sort of work this year thanks to this grant and am thrilled to be receiving more inbound requests from people about housing and development issues in their communities. I’m all ears!

In other CVIndependent news: Earlier this spring, I was surprised to learn I won TWO California Journalism Awards from the California News Publishers Association. That was among 24 that CV Independent took in overall this year! This was very cool for a couple reasons — and not just that people said nice things to me about it (which is very cool, and thanks!). More broadly, it validates that independent journalism can be done well and hold its own against bigger and more-resourced companies. It also is a reminder that

• First place in the Homelessness Reporting category for “Civic Solutions: Project Homekey Comes to Cathedral City to Create a Renovated Supportive-Housing Complex,” by Melissa Daniels

• Second place in the Environment Reporting category for “The Need for Seeds: Why the Mojave Desert Land Trust is Developing a Critical Safeguard for the Desert’s Future,” by Melissa Daniels

More Modern Retail coverage

The whirlwind policy changes around tariffs has thrown the industry I cover — retail — into a state of uncertainty. Companies are raising prices, lowering prices, hoarding inventory, hosting fire sales. No one really know what’s next, they’re all just trying to survive, and people are getting increasingly hip to the fact that we don’t need to spend our hard-earned money on stuff we don’t need.

I’m channeling a lot this conversation into our latest podcast episodes, which you can find via subscribing to our free daily newsletter or on Apple, Spotify, etc. Here’s some of my favorites we’ve done lately:

• Nike’s Amazon return, E.l.f’s big Rhode bet, and debunking recession indicators

• Klarna’s losses double, Dockers and The Vitamin Shoppe find new buyers, and Bansk’s chief supply chain officer talks tariffs

Eyes and ears

For better or worse, the Spotify algorithm introduces (or re-introduces) me to a lot of music. Lately this included The Weakerthans, a favorite band of mine in high school and college that I somehow haven’t listened to in years. We put on “Left and Leaving” on the drive up to Big Bear this past weekend and now it’s back in heavy rotation. On the newer release side, there’s an embarrassment of riches to choose from. “Everybody’s Trying to Figure Me Out” from HAIM is my favorite of their newest songs for far, and I can’t wait to hear the full album. Miley Cyrus’ “Easy Lover” is as much of a summer jam as I’ll ever need, and the official drop of “Nose on the Grindstone” will be on pretty much every desert driving playlist I curate from here on out.

For some reason, I’m forcing myself to stick with reading nonfiction (maybe because it puts me to sleep faster than fiction) and I decided to give Yuval Noah Harari’s “Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow” a try. It’s an extremely weird read these days, given it was published in 2019 and has a lot about computer learning and the role technology plays in the shaping of the human consciousness and experience. He’s so philosophical and sometimes the questions feel like what you’d hear in a stoned kid’s dorm room. But as corny as it sounds, questioning our broader purpose could never be a more relevant question. And if the answer I land on is somewhere in the realm of practicing and defending free expression in all its forms and mediums, then I’m going to keep seeking our work that inspires me to keep feeling that way.

Onward, in perpetuity,

MD

There’s a saying I’ve heard around the startup world that’s been on mind lately, and that’s “building in public.” This essentially means sharing the behind-the-scenes of what you’re doing as you start your business or launch your enterprise with the wider public(versus tinkering away in secret and doing a big reveal). Social media makes this remarkably easy. You don’t have spend very long on LinkedIn to stumble across some founder journey. Pretty much every influencer is building in public, as they excitedly share their new brand sponsorships that dovetails as a group win for their followers. Cassey Ho of Popflex is a pro at this, and I love her many videos that walk through her thinking when she launches new or improved designs.

But lately, I feel like we’re all building in public — not just with our work enterprises, but our lives. We’re sharing our family highlight reels on social media. We’re updating the group texts, we’re reviewing products, we’re documenting real-time events to share with the broader world. We’re keeping each other posted on our latest wins, and often hiding the fails. Whether explicitly or implicitly, we’re constantly sending messages about who we are and what we need and how we feel.

I’m especially conscious of this lately because I find myself doing so many new things. New dance nonprofit! New choreography! New mom-life duties as my sweet child blossoms from baby into full-on kiddo! New podcast hosting duties, and oh yeah, new tariff policy! I’ll unpack more of this below. But in all this newness, it sometimes feels hard to find the ground beneath my feet. Am I “qualified?” Am I “good enough?” The vulnerability is palpable. I don’t always feel confident, let alone successful at these new experiences. And yet, I’m sharing it with the world anyway!

I try to remember that there is no panel of judges — no official ones anyway — who are marking our progress. And if we feel judged or criticized, how much of that is actually happening, versus a projection of our own insecurities? We’re all just growing and falling and grasping and trying in a messy, noisy public. And if something doesn’t land, if it doesn’t “work out,” you never know who is out there learning from your journey. And on the flip side, you never know who might be cheering you on.

Sure, it’s scary to be vulnerable. But it sure does feel better than the alternative.

From the world of commerce

The first 100 days of the Trump administration have meant wild things for the retail industry (which has been my beat for coming up on three years now!). The widespread tariffs on imports from China and other countries has thrown supply chains into the spotlight.

I’ve aimed to pull out some unique threads about what new tariff policy means for U.S. manufacturing, and overall consumer sentiment. But I’ve also been looking into the companies and strategies that are attempting to reform our consumption habits into something less destructive for the planet and its peoples. Some recent headlines include:

• Meet the growing crop of marketplaces monetizing excess apparel

• How refillable deodorant startup Wild scored a sale to Unilever

• Coyuchi shows why it’s so hard to source organic, U.S. cotton

I’m also one of our new podcast co-hosts at Modern Retail! Here’s a couple of our first episodes for your perusal — and I’d love it if you could listen/subscribe/review etc. This is definitely a new medium for me but one i’m already having a lot of fun with, and I see so much potential for us to share insights, information & updates in new ways. This week’s episode features a segment on the ripple effect of high egg prices in the retail industry, where I got to share some reporting I’ve done on the big business of the backyard chicken industry.

Closer to home

In late March, CV Independent ran a story I’d be working on for some time about a proposed equestrian-centered development in Thermal. I previously sent an excerpt to this mailing list, but you can read the full story here!

Much of my freelance work lately has focused on housing equity in our communities, especially with regard to those that are historically underserved. In the desert, which is so often a tale of haves and have-nots, we’re seeing this wtih a lack of affordable rentals or starter homes and a continued proliferation of new builds above median prices, as well as luxury estates. Developers will point to how they have to sell at certain price points to make the math work, but make no mistake — that math often includes someone taking a profit.

My hope is to published 3-5 more stories on housing between now and the end of the year. If you have any questions, thoughts or inquires about the state of housing and development in the Mojave Desert, please drop me a line!

On the stage again

As mentioned earlier, I’m in the throes of our second production with Dance Mojave. THE PLANETS is an immersive performance set to Gustav Holst’s original compositions plus original work from an amazing local musician whose compositions are truly blowing my mind. This is about as epic of a production as I’ve ever been in, due to both the amazing talent involved in its creation and the fantastical, wild landscape that we’re performing in. It’s surprisingly healing to dance again, and even more so to do so outside, in boots or sneakers, touching gravel, fighting the wind as we move. This production is also one of my favorite collaborations to date between my husband and I, and it’s been so rewarding to watch him experiment and create in the name of something bigger than us that we get to share with our community. Join us on May 9 and May 10 if you’re in town!

Eyes & ears

This is the part of the newsletter where I talk about books and music! I spent March on a Kristin Hannah kick, starting with “The Women,” which I really enjoyed. Historical fiction scratches a lot of itches for me, and I thought the character development/romance storylines were really well done. I also read “Magic Hour,” which I didn’t enjoy as much, too soap opera-y. Then I furthered my Richard Powers obsession with “Playground,” which I really liked until the end?? Felt like we were left hanging!

I keep trying to get into hyped nonfiction books like “Outlive” by Peter Attia and Jonathan Haidt’s “The Anxious Generation” but the genre isn’t holding my attention like it used to. I need plot and action, I think. So recently I re-read “Frankenstein,” one of my top five books of all time, which was a nice literary change of form. Now I’m into “The Demon of Unrest” by Erik Larson. It’s sobering to read about the Civil War in any circumstances, let alone in this political climate. I also tend to read just before bed, when it’s probably not wise to fill my mind with distressing images. But I’m usually just so impressed by his detailed writing that I breeze through more than I think I could.

Musically, the Jason Isbell record “Foxes in the Snow” more than surpassed my expectations. As much as “Live at the Ryman Vol 2.” shows off how good he is at rocking out, this record shows how good he is at looking in. His storytelling is sharp, his melodies are beautiful, and the way he’s approached his career as someone whose life is now fodder for public consumption might be something to unpack in an essay of its own. Other frequent listens right now include the new Maren Morris tunes — “People Still Show Up” is becoming an anthem of sorts as I stumble through this year and somehow find myself surrounded by brilliant, funny & always down-for-a-hang kind of friends.

I also had a lot of fun watching Coachella from the youTube live stream this year. Getting to watch Jimmy Eat World sets live with my kid is now a core memory for me. Lady Gaga is a legend, duh, but I also liked the sets from Wisp, the LA Phil, Japanese Breakfast, Lola Young (how can you not like “Messy”?) and Sarah Landry (industrial techno gets a lot of play in this household for some reason).

I also liked watching clips from Sam Fender, whose new album sounds like something engineered in a lab specifically for my ears. His storytelling is raw, his riffs are crunchy as hell. It’s like The War on Drugs x The Killers x Springsteen all rolled up, with a little old-school Ryan Adams thrown in (you can really tell the moments led by co-producer Adam Granduciel). Fender is the latest artist added to my growing list of favorites that I call “dad rock for hot moms,” a term that I ought to trademark one of these days.

Thank you so much for reading, and sending joy and peace your way.

Onward, in perpetuity,

MD

The grounds of the Desert International Horse Park are immaculate. Bushes of bougainvillea and palm trees line well-kept pathways that wind through more than a dozen competition rings and stables for more than 2,000 horses on any given day in-season.

Riders in helmets and trainers holding lead ropes roamed the property on a recent crisp afternoon, enjoying the opportunity to train and compete before the heat arrives. Seemingly everybody held the leash of a well-behaved dog.

Desert International Horse Park (DIHP) is an east valley facility responsible for an economic impact of as much as $260 million annually, per the owners’ estimate. But the investors and developers see even more growth potential. That’s why CEO Jeremy Smith and his team are asking Riverside County to approve plans for Thermal Ranch, a development of more than 600 acres located south of Avenue 62 along Harrison Street.

Smith told the Independent that his team sees the proposal as a way to grow the equestrian community while benefiting the local economy. They took over the park about six years ago and have already invested about $20 million to rehab the facility, which draws as many as 400,000 guests each season. But with a larger footprint, the desert could rival Florida as the home of winter racing and become another recreation-driven attraction for the Coachella Valley.

“Our goal is to make sure that the West Coast sport is at a high enough level, and we get enough people out here to support this industry,” Smith said.

The proposal includes 862 private homes, workforce housing, a hotel and commercial development centered around a state-of-the-art equestrian center that’s 30% larger than the existing facility. It would also pay for an electricity substation and a 5-million-gallon water tank that could be used by the existing community and support future development. The county alone would see a net fiscal impact of more than $2.7 million annually, according to an estimate shared at a community meeting.

But the plans highlight an inevitable tension that comes up every time there’s a proposal for a shiny new development: As with the Thermal Club and the Thermal Beach Club before it, many eastern Coachella Valley residents have spoken out against Thermal Ranch, because they’re concerned it will exacerbate the systemic inequities challenging the impoverished region.

Smith wants to break ground this fall, which would happen under the watch of a Riverside County planning process. The proposed site of Thermal Ranch has been farmland for decades and will require a zoning change. A public comment period for the project’s draft environmental impact review closed in January, yielding six letters that raised concerns about social and environmental challenges. Among those was a letter from advocates at Leadership Counsel for Justice and Accountability, with signatures from more than 70 residents, plus community groups Youth Leadership Institute and Coachella Unincorporated.

“The introduction of high-end residential and recreational spaces would only serve to exacerbate these inequalities, driving up local housing costs and displacing vulnerable populations,” the letter read. “ECV residents strongly oppose the proposed development, not only because it threatens their economic stability, but also because it represents an imposition of outside priorities over the community’s priorities and needs.”

Read the full story at CV Independent

This story is made possible in part by a grant from the IE Journalism Innovation Hub + Fund of the Inland Empire Community Foundation. To submit ideas, comments or questions to the Coachella Valley Independent about housing in the desert, head to this Google Form.

A few months ago I wrote about the importance of building community in divisive times. This is certainly proving itself out. But I am, to my own embarrassment sometimes, a political Pollyanna, in that I still believe in the power of the people. I still believe our will and our vote and our rights matter, even though much of what we’ve seen unfold on the national stage suggests otherwise.

I believe it because I’ve spent hundreds of hours of my career documenting marches and protests and advocacy lobbies and listening sessions. I’ve watched public servants on the national stage in their early days, and documented how others fell from grace. I’ve seen others memorialized by thousands they never even met in person. In these settings, hope is palpable, and even people who do not agree on everything can stand beside each other and agree on something.

I’ve seen too much honest fighting for beliefs to think that just because some of what is unfolding feels so ugly and destructive that we are all going to fade out and give up.

But right now, we’re in the thick of it, and this feels like a storm to ride out. Forces far beyond our control are raging overhead. Time to batten down the hatches, and get everyone safely inside, and then when there’s a break in the clouds, we will — somehow — rebuild.

New twists on the retail beat

I’m doing my best to stay focused on writing about the topics that cross my beat that may not be getting attention from mainstream media. This is my “zig when others zag” strategy, and it serves me well even if it doesn’t drive the most traffic. But I’ll die on this hill — I didn’t become a full-time writer to copy the same thing everyone else is writing about. Lately, this approach has yielded pieces around:

• California’s push to clean up ingredients in ultra-processed foods

• How brands are re-thinking textile waste in the Trump era

• Why a brand like Costco that holds to its DEI policies isnt’ likely to face blowback

On the brand side, I’ve had some great conversations lately iwth founders I admire. Andy Hunter at Bookshop.org spoke to me about its new e-book app that will funnel more money to indie bookstores as an antidote to Amazon’s dominance, and I also interviewed the inimitable Cassey Ho of Popflex about her Blogilates x Target line. Really regretting not scooping up a ballerina skort before they sold out!

Looking ahead, the tariff news that’s unfolding is likely going to dominate ea lot of conversations this week (and probably upend my schedule, but so it goes). Watch this space.

On the local front

This year, I’m grateful to have received support to continue my Civic Solutions column from the Inland Empire Journalism Hub + Fund. I’m going to be focusing more of this work on housing, and what is working to help develop affordable housing, address the needs of the unhoused population, and probe how the desert is balancing development and environmental needs.

We have a huge issue here with the skyrocketing costs of housing, and yet the barren desert doesn’t necessarily have the infrastructure to support new development. And who can most afford to build that infastucure? Private luxury developers, which adds inventory that’s relatively useless for most working class residents in need a of a safe place to raise their families.

If you are a desert resident and want to weigh in about what housing and cost of living issues you’re facing, please get in touch.

Eyes and ears

Lately my music diet has been full of new stuff from old bands, especially in the jam band/folksy indie vein. The new My Morning Jacket song is a daily listen, and going through their catalog has been a great way to relax, dance and shake off the stress. I really like the new songs from The Lumineers, a band I definitely absorbed and forgot about and re-absorbed again over the years. Other good listens lately are the new Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors album, and the absolutely brilliant “Beethoven Blues” from Jon Batiste.

I’m also crossing my fingers I”ll figure out a way to see Guster when they play in LA on February 15, but it will involve a lot of job-child care-travel time juggling to make work. I remember when I was a young person thinking “Why don’t people in their 30s go to concerts more?” and now I fully understand the challenge.

I’m back into TV, which sounds like a silly thing to say but I really unplugged in late 2024. But there’s no shame and plenty of enjoyment to be gained from the many productions out there to stream, and so I’ve been watching “The Pitt” in 20-30 minute snippets at the end of my work. Noah Wyle has put together something really special, and the many mentions of Pittsburgh landmarks and name drops like Altius and Rivers Casino brings back happy memories of a city I loved living in. There’s also a weird entertainment legal battle behind it to follow!

I’ll close by giving a book shout out to “In My Time of Dying” by Sebastian Junger. It was an extremely difficult read at first. I had to put it down after a few pages sometimes because it was so heavy, so visceral and so disturbing. I’ve long thought our society needs to become more comfortable talking about death. But first, I think we need to become more comfortable talking about life, and how precious our time here really is. What does it look like, to stretch each day to its limits, to probe this reality for the most extraordinary moments, or to find the wholeness in the most mundane? For me, it starts with cherishing and honoring my mind, body and spirit, because only when those are in good working order can I continue to care and uplift those around me. Onward.

Thank you for reading,

MD

1. My potato became a tater tot. Have you ever watched a miracle in real time? That’s what happens when you kid crosses the baby-to-toddler threshhold somewhere in the 12 to 18 month range. Holy heck. I can have full-on conversations with this tiny, wonderful person who once only communicated with blissful gazes, tiny burps and tired sighs. He cracks me up on a regular basis (during a recent bout of strep, he grabbed the syringe of antibiotic and took it directly to the trash can). I am awash in love and pride and the particular form of grief for the time we never get back.

2. I helped start a dance company. As I wrote earlier this month, I am one of hte organizers of Dance Mojave, a new dance production nonprofit in the Morongo Basin. The Desert Nutcracker was our first performance and a fairly successful one, if I do say so mylsef — we sold out two of three performances! And we’re so freaking excited about the things we have planned for 2025. Watch this space — and sign up for our Substack to get the video of The Desert Nutcracker in your inbox!

   Sign up for the Dance Mojave Substack!

3. Returning to the stage. Related to the above bullet point, live performance is back in my life in a real way. This began in the spring with playing guitar and my first open mic session in over a decade alongside the talented Eleanor Whitney of Skirting. I am learning it’s never too late to chase a latent dream, even if people on the internet say your voice sucks and your guitar is out of tune. Both of which happened on TikTok and Instagram this year. Whatever. Someone probably said that to Janis, too.

4. Willis! In August, we adopted a senior dachsund mix named Willis. He’s 10 years old, half blind and hard of hearing, and required a very expensive dental procedure to remove seven infected and loose teeth. Poor dude lived outside his whole life before spending nine months in the Morongo Basin No-Kill Shelter, where I accidentally fell in love with him. He has a hilarious, low-toned howl, and loves to eat trash. He sits next to my desk for much of the day, but watching him run through the yard with his ears flapping in the breeze is the real highlight.

   

5. I got an Instapot. OK this is a silly one that didn’t happen until November, but I’m really excited about it! I recommend it if you’re trying to get more cooked veggies and fresh proteins in your life. More broadly, I’m paying more attention to diet and nutrition than I have in years, and it’s starting to feel like a second nature. I’m not depriving myself of anything, as evidenced by the several glasses of red wine over the course of Christmas. But I’m being more mindful, and it feels good to feel good. As I told someone recently, if I’m not in good health all of ~this~ falls off the rails.

6. I’m enjoying writing again. This is a hard thing to unpack, as I’ve been getting paid to write since I was about 18 years old. This is mind-boggling in many ways, and while I”ve spent a lot of time being self-deprecating abotu my work or level of so-called “success,” I can finally say I’m shedding the expectations. The fact is, I have been getting paid to write since I was 18 years old. Some of it I’m proud of, some of it not so much. Some pieces have been read by hundreds of thousands of readers around the world. Some of them have been read by just a handful of you who’ve kept up with me. All this to say, I’m enjoying the craft for the craft’s sake again, and I hope that yields good things in 2025.

Onto the links.

Supply chains & search strategies

The last couple work weeks of the year for me became really busy in the baby care space — partly because it was time to wrap up stories I’d been working on for awhile, and also just because it’s a really busy space right now. I’m particularly proud of my story on how the baby formula industry is beefing up its production muscle two years about the formula shortage. There were a lot of angles I could’ve taken but given our audience I thought it would make sense to look at how these products are getting to shelves.

I also wrote about a very under-the-radar law in California that’s going to require baby food manufacturers to share heavy metal testing information with customers. I expect to see more of this kind of regulation as the Venn diagram between the organic/all-natural die-hards and MAHA crowds grows. On the fintech front, I noticed that BNPL providers were increasingly entering the service space and came on some interesting data about it.

A new Civic Solutions

My final Civic Solutions column for 2024 looked at the historic restorative justice settlement and agreement between the city of Palm Springs and the Section 14 Survivors group, who are residents & their descendants of those displaced in a city-authorized razing in the 1950s and 1960s. It’s really amazing to me what a dedicated group of peopel can accomplish when they don’t give up. I wrote about their efforts in early 2023, and it was a pleasure to speak with attorney Areva Martin not just about the settlement itself but the *how* of restorative justice. In her words: “We had to do healing work—heart work, soul work—before they could feel empowered enough to act.” Would be honored if you gave it a read, as this is arguably the most important thing I wrote all year.

Eyes and ears

In the world of reading, I absolutely devoured “Bewilderment” by Richard Powers. I love the way his work manages to make the incredibly personal profoundly universal, and given that outer space is sort of my new theme/obsession going into 2025, it was a beautiful read. Superrrr sad tho, major trigger warnings if you are dealing with issues around grief, death or trauma. Otherwise reading has sort of taken a backseat, as I got a new phone and it took many attempts to get Libby set up again. Also doesn’t help that I’ve been falling asleep with my kid instead of staying up on my Kindle, but trusting that my mind will do its thing when there’s something to sink into.

While I was anticipating having some great music recaps to share thanks to Spotify Wrapped, the massive amounts of sleep sounds, medication music and classical/piano scores that we play in this house has totally taken over my algorithm. And I know artificial intelligence is horrible for the environment and threatening to do awful things to creative industries…but I have to admit that the new Spotify AI playlist feature is fun. I asked it to give me a mid-morning playlist of 70s, 80s and 90s soft rock, and it really nailed it. I forgot how good Bread is! And since Christmas Day, I’m back to listening to “Cowboy Carter” a lot — and if Beyonce doesn’t with AOTY at the Grammys in February for this work, I will officially lose faith in The Recording Academy as a body that knows what they’re doing.

I totally missed out on indulging in dorky holiday rom-coms, but we watched “A Charlie Brown Christmas” more than a few times. I forgot how funny Peanuts is for adults. I did get through Season 6 of “Virgin River” in about three days. The show seems to have regained its pace after a couple seasons that felt a bit droll, and it was like being covered in a warm blanket to hang out with those characters and their dramatic lives together. This one even had an aging musician!

With that, wishing you a healthy and safe New Year, and hoping you find a glimmer of peace and presence wherever, whenever you can. Thank you for reading.

MD

Maybe with a trigger warning. Maybe with an epitaph.

My father passed away in November after a long illness. While this not the space to delve into the specifics, it feels wrong to ignore the fact alone, when my brain space has been so occupied, when my family of origin is so mightily transformed. I’ll also add: We are so grateful for the thoughts, prayers and kindness we have received during this time. If you think what you say or do doesn’t matter when those around you are grieving, believe me: it does.

Grief is a shapeshifter. She can be a two-headed monster attacking from both sides, or a breeze that catches your breath. Per usual, I find comfort in Stoic teachings, the way others might look to the Bible or 12 Steps. As Marcus Aurelius states, “It is not death that a man should fear, but rather he should fear never beginning to live.”

I tend to follow a “live while you're alive” ethos, the kind that can easily turn into burning the candle at both ends. Some people find this off-putting, the fact that I am constantly doing and planning and plotting and strategizing. In this way, I am most definitely a Slytherin! But I don’t know any other way, and at this point, I can’t listen to any haters when the proof has gotten me this far. So, every day I will keep asking myself: how can I make the most of this most precious gift of time?

A labor of love, a community effort

This week marks the premier of The Desert Nutcracker, a full-length ballet adaptation of the holiday classic put on by the brilliant creatives of Dance Mojave. It’s been an honor to be a part of this project since its inception in July. And we’ve come so far — not only in the logistical sense of having systems and infrastructure and accounts and processors, but in a heart way. I have connected with new people and met so many wonderful families. We’ve gritted our teeth and figured shit out, together. And I cannot explain how terrifying and wonderful it feels to dance again, to use the physical medium for storytelling. It’s a welcome respite from the world of screens. And it’s fun as hell.

In the desert this week? Get tickets on Eventbrite, or contact me with any questions!

The world of retail

*sings* It’s the most consumption-driven time of the year…which means it’s very busy time to write about the world of retail! Due to the challenges I’ve had in my personal life I haven’t been as locked in/souring scoops as much as I’d like to be. But I’ve still had some excellent conversations with folks about the many changes to the way we shop. One of my favorite topics, mobile shopping, is huge this year. And the alternative payments world is likely going to see record revenue/transactions, since we’re all trying to budget better and things like Pay in 4 installments will come in handy.

I’ve also been getting some great feedback lately on my coverage of the “clean” marketing space — I specifically focus on household essentials and the companies looking to microplastics & other junk out of the products we used. I broke the news that Grove Co. is pulling its branded products out of stores (a move the markets applauded). And I looked at how companies are selling efficacy over sustainability, letting the latter be an added value or — as it should be — simply a given.

Closer to home

On the freelance front, I got a piece published I’ve been looking to do for weeks now — a look at the recycling laws changing in California. No more plastic bags in the produce aisle, rejoice! And I personally cannot wait til we have battery drop-offs in convenient locations. I think we’re all tired of the battery graveyard lurking in a drawer or jar somewhere. I also had the honor of doing a staff pick for Best of the Coachella Valley and I picked Bean Goods, a store and brand that gives me SO MUCH joy. Weenies & Martinis, anyone?!

One of my goals for 2025 will be to ratchet up my freelance work. I plan to keep focusing on policy solutions in California around housing, the environment and justice initiatives. But I also want to do more *fun stuff* - profiles of local business leaders, event recaps & nonprofit spotlights. Get at me if you’re a mover and shaker in the Coachella Valley or Morongo Basin with a story to tell!

Eyes and ears

I devoured “By Any Other Name” by Jodi Picoult. It was the kind of book where I missed the characters once I put it down — and though it required a certain amount of suspended belief, I liked how the story wove between the present and the past, touching on the same themes and struggles faced by women then and now. I think my re-entry in showbiz (see: Desert Nutcracker) made it a great escapist read for this busy and transformative season of life. Highly recommend if you’re a theater kid or literary junkie. Now I’m into The Paris Apartment by Lucy Foley, I so love how breezy and thrilling her work manages to be simultaneously.

Musically, I can’t say much has changed since my October update — it’s been a mix of Guster/Noah Gunderson/Jason Isbell/Father John Misty pretty much constantly. Here’s a link to a Spotify playlist I’ve been curating. Since it’s holiday season and I’m baking a lot, that means lots of The War on Drugs or other quasi-jam bands that make for meaty kitchen listening. And of course, there will be multiple Vince Guaraldi Trio’s A Charlie Brown Christmas. The soft jazz and sweet voices are so calming and warm, and it’s an exactly right compliment to the nights of cozying up at home by the glow of the tree.

Should you not hear from me before the end of the calendar year, thank you for reading my stuff this year, and giving me the time & feedback that means so much to writers everywhere.

Let’s keep the conversations going — about living under these broken systems, about preserving the environment, about cultivating community through expression and experiences and the arts. I’m wishing you health and peace for the New Year, and all the strength you need to get where you’re going.

Until next time,

MD

People will still be paying too much for housing and healthcare.

People still won’t trust the media, government or other institutions.

People will still struggle to find justice, whether they’re victims of crime, beat down by capitalism, or perpetually oppressed by entrenched systems.

And we’ll all be dealing with the fallout of the outcome of this election. We’ll be sorting out what it means for us and our families and our communities and our country.

But immediately, will any of the fundamental struggles of our time fade?

Not with just an election. And certainly not one that stands to leave us as divided as we’ve ever been.

I want to be hopeful. But it feels foolish to be hopeful when there is so much hate and fear coursing through the bones of ordinary people. It is hard to be hopeful when I see good people saying or doing things against are against their self-interest. It is hard to be hopeful when most of us are more likely to believe a meme made of pixels than the truth of our neighbor.

Sometimes I wonder, what will it take to remind us that we are all in this together? If terrorist attacks, school shootings and global pandemic aren’t enough? Maybe we are past that kind of thinking, and we have to accept that there will always be division and extremism plaguing our discourse. I don’t think most ordinary people want our politics to stay this way, though. I think we’re all tired of it. I just don’t know how you get the hate out of the way to the clear path for actual empathy and respectful disagreement.

For me, I am going to make an active choice to have extra compassion in the coming weeks. I am going to try to not be reactionary. Even if it’s hard. Even if I’m tired. Even if I have to humble myself. That way, when the time and opportunity comes, I can remember what it is to talk to someone about what we believe and why, and try to find some common ground.

Onto the links.

A big update

I will write more on this in the coming weeks, but this season I’m thrilled to be a part of a new performance company in the desert called Dance Mojave. We’re putting on our first-ever production of The Desert Nutcracker, an entirely original performance with 60+ cast members that I’ve been helping to coordinate since August.

My brilliant husband will be painting murals. We’re designing the program together. I’m in two pieces, and have It feels wonderful to use my brain and heart and body together in this way — not to mention the amazing relationships we’re creating as a community over a shared passion. The cup overflows.

You can order tickets here.

Can’t come to the desert? Support us anyway! Here’s our Donobox link, or send us a Venmo @dancemojave.

Subscribe now

Journalism-ings

I took an extended, unexpected absence from Modern Retail in October due to a need to travel to care for an ill family member. I’m not quite ready to write about that yet, but I will reiterate what I said on LinkedIn — I have a newfound appreciation for the rote annoyances that make up a normal day; routine is a privilege compared to the chaos that can otherwise unfold when you're of the sandwich generation.

Upon my return, I got back in the saddle quickly. The direct-to-consumer health world continues to fascinate me, and I wrote this week about how postpartum products are seeing mainstream retail adoption. I also published an explainer on WTF is going on with the future of telehealth prescriptions — if you are someone who relies on controlled substances for mental, hormonal or addiction help, you’ll want to read this.

With elections on the brain, I’m bumping my story from the October issue of CV Independent on how some activists in the Coachella Valley are trying get more people who have felony charges on their records registered to vote. The county — by law — is supposed to send these folks information when they’re released from prison. But it’s unclear if those letters are being received, so the notification falls to concerned community advocates. As I wrote in the piece:

In lieu of a system that does not revokes someone’s right to vote in the first place, advocates need to inform the community as part of broader get-out-the-vote efforts.

Arguably, we could all be doing more to make sure ALL of our neighbors are voting — but that’s a story for another day.

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The eyes and ears

Last month I wrote how I was reading “The Bee Sting” and didn’t realize where it was going.well, uh…..I finished it…wow! You should read it, too. I just breezed through the final Elin Hildrebrand Nantucket novel, “Swan Song,” and loved it. Just started “Long Island Compromise,” and as impressed as always by Taffy Brodesser-Ackner’s turns of phrase and character development.

Sonically, I’ve been big into longtime favorites like Guster and Jason Isbell (whose “Live at Ryman Vol 2” with the 400 Unit is easily the finest live album out so far this year). I also have been on a Noah Gunderson kick, even if his songs like “The Coast” can make me cry at the drop of a pin. And I’m incredibly excited for the new Father John Misty album coming out this month. “Screamland” and “She Cleans Up” are instant favorites, for me. I had the good fortune to see him at Pappy and Harriet’s in late September, and you can buy that recording now on Bandcamp. It was an incredible show that I attended after receiving some life-altering news, so I sang and danced my face off like there was no tomorrow. If you get the chance, I recommend you do that, too — even if it’s just in your own living room.

Thanks, as always, for reading,

MD

Interrupting our semi-regular cadence of a monthly newsletter with a special invite for desert locals, specifically those of you in the media crowd. On Monday Oct. 7, you’re welcome to join a Community Townhall & Listening Session on Election Reporting For Local Impact. Expect a great discussion with media practitioners & the community about election coverage in the Inland Empire.

Date: October 7th, 2024
Time: 3:00 PM - 4:30 PM
Location: RAP Foundation, 41550 Eclectic St., Palm Desert, CA 92260

I have a deep respect for the team organizing this, and hope to attend myself (I am currently out of town due to a family emergency, more on that later). I’ve long been an advocate for blooming where you’re planted, and that means doing more than cloistering ourselves in our phones with our screens. It means getting out and dialoguing, especially around issues like local elections. It means being open to hearing perspectives that may differ from your own. And in this case, it means being bold and vulnerable enough to say what it is that you think is missing in the information landscape around you.

More info and RSVP here.

With love and solidarity,

MD

I entered this evening outdoor retreat knowing the would be a moonrise. This happens every night! But the reveal somehow still felt exciting and anticipatory. Probably because that was the only thing in front of me to do. Instead of hurrying around with nighttime chores and bedtime routines, I was gazing up, surrounded by horses and other meditators. A sound healer played her bowls, while Raven the Frisian and Cocoa the Shetland pony nosed the instruments with curiosity. Another attendee remarked how ancient it felt, to have our feet covered in dirt, standing next to horses, watching the most original of performances, the most reliable of universal routines.

I am hardly the first or last person to take spiritual solace and artistic inspiration in the landscape of the desert. I think it’s why many of us locals chose to settle here, because we crave that feeling of being clear and grounded when we look up and look around.

But the daily grind can separate us from nature and its rhythms. Sometimes we have to get very still and quiet to reconnect. It isn’t as daunting as it sounds. And if we forget, there will be another chance tomorrow night.

Onto the links.

The local takes

I’ve really enjoyed getting back into writing for CV Independent, where I’m highlight local businesses in the high desert as well as problem-solving public policies and movements. Most recently, I published a story on the incredible work going on at the Mojave Desert Land Trust’s seed bank, which is doing painstaking work to preserve native species.

I also dived into the world of school lunches, checking in on how the universal free meals program in California is playing out. It’s proving to become a national topic thanks to VP candidate Gov. Tim Walz's work on the issue. But California was the first statewide program in 2022. Lessons learned from our community? “When everybody is free, we can focus on the food.”

On the consumerism beat

You can take the journalist off the politics beat, but you can’t take the potliics out of the journalist — or something like that. Over at Modern Retail, I’ve really enjoyed sinking my teeth into the knotty intersection of influencers, politics and branding.

• Companies like Linktree are increasing their get-out-the-vote efforts

• Influencers are poised to play a powerful role in the 2024 election season, and some brands are along for the ride.

I’m also increasing covering the nexus of health care and retail, a space I hope to continue to examine. As long as we’re doing the whole privatized-health-care thing I see massive potential for brands to do better than private equity owned health care and insurance companies.

• How telehealth birth control companies are reaching women in southern states amid restrictive care laws.

• MISTR is giving away free HIV test kits at select Georgia Walmart stores

I’m also still attempting to work the sustainability beat from a solutions lens, and looking at the challenges brands are running into as they work to clean up their environmental footprint. Can we make profits without killing the planet? Sources say yes, but we’re far from that as universal reality. But there simple solutions abound, like paper instead of plastic for your single-serve snacks.

In my ears and eyes

I shouldn’t wait too long to publish a newsletter because I tend to forget all the great music I listened to last month. But this week I really enjoyed the new Miranda Lambert album “Postcards from Texas,” it’s down-home and warm in a way that fits right in for the close of a desert summer. “Way Too Good at Breaking My Heart” and “No Man’s Land” are my favorites so far. In a complete different genre, I finally got around to the new Foxing record and fell all over myself at the gym about it. I forgot how deep they go. And I would be lying if I didn’t admit that Sabrina Carpenter’s “Taste” and Chappell Roan’s “Good Luck, Babe” weren’t damn fine earworms defining the summer of 2024.

I’m back into my turntable in a big way, due in part to a magnificent discovery of DJ Shadow’s “Entroducing” at the esteemed White Label Vinyl in 29Palms. I’ve dug out my copy of Keith Jarret’s “The Köln Concert” which also makes for pretty inspired morning listening. We have some Apex Twin, and I got a random early 00s house record from a recent stay at the Ace Hotel & Swim Club, and it all makes the morning feel moody and exciting.

On the reading front, I am three-quarters of the way through Julia Quinn’s “The Smythe-Smith Quartet and is everything I need in regency romances. Currently making my way through “The Bee Sting” by Paul Murray, which is one of those books where I’m not entirely sure where it’s going but has sharp enough narrative to make the journey worthwhile. On the journalism front, I recently devoured Ian Cohen’s Japandroids profile in Stereogum before their final album. It’s rare I make time to read longford music piece but this drew me in, brought me back & filled my culture cup. As I start to think about my own creative future, this quote from Brian King sticks with me: “My dream is to return as a new and improved version of myself, to take everything I’ve been through and make some meaningful music out of it. I’ve watched other artists do it, so I know it can be done.”

Until next time,

MD

Just kidding. I have no idea what’s in store. And maybe don’t trust anyone who says they do.

But even without the gift of prophecy, I’ve had many conversations this past week or so about what the future of the United States. And so far, the only possible antidote I can find to counteract the current state of sociopolitical upheaval and dissatisfaction and oppression is community. Whether in person or virtual, whether in passing or around your dinner table. Maybe it’s your neighbors, your friends, your church, or your internet brethren in the comment trenches. Maybe it’s your school district, or a sports fandom. Maybe it’s your fellow direct action protestors tying themselves to the front doors of Acme HQ or whatever. Wherever our values intersect with others is where we find our community. And there, maybe we can find some hope that not all is lost, and that we know what it is like to come together to solve problems in the name of the greater good. Or maybe I am a tragic optimist.

Part of the reason I became a journalist is because I wanted to be a part of what could hold our systems accountable to our society. I still believe this is a critical function, and one I aim to perform to my very best every day. But there is a feeling of sticking your finger in the hole of the dam while a wrecking ball hovers overhead. Fatalism, though, will get you nowhere, and so I press onward. I wear my figurative heart on my sleeve when interviewing others or reaching out to connect about topics that interest me. I try to find topics and insights that will get people who are running our economy doing it a little better, a little safer, a little more thoughtful. I like to ask people about the things they’re passionate about improving for the benefit of others. I relish these interactions, because they remind me that we are — whether we like each other or not — all in this together.

On the capitalism beat

There’s always something interesting happening in the world of retail, and in my work I really try go beyond the “sell, sell, sell” of the thing. Obviously companies are trying to make money. Obviously they want you to buy things that you (or the planet) probably don’t really need. But short of the entire economy pivoting to the degrowth movement, this is the only game in town, and I like to see if we’re at all changing the norms.

• Parachute is among the first-ever home brands to launch a take-back program. You may have seen this for clothes — drop off your old stuff to get a coupon — but doing it with linens is interesting because a) they’re way bigger than apparel b) the resale or reuse value isn’t as high. I also got to fangirl with the SuperCircle team who are doing pretty fascinating things in the recycling world.

• Hoka opened up its NYC flagship store this summer, and I spoke to president Robin Greene about how even though their core audience may be runners they’ve been able to capture the attention of many other shoppers. I don’t really run anymore (unless I am chasing a small human) but I love watching this brand grow. As I reported, expect more from them on the apparel side soon.

• My latest labor story looked at how REI agreed to an informal settlement after workers in its NYC repair shop raised concerns about how respirators were used while melting plastic. This was a tricky piece to report because I had a document to go off of and only one side would get on the phone with me. But it underscores a greater issue in retail that I am reporting more and more about — workers don’t really feel safe.

  More at Modern Retail

Elsewhere

Over at the Coachella Valley Independent, I’m looking for new ideas to play with over the next few months. If you are a hi-dez business owner, get in touch! Also looking for more Civic Solutions ideas. I firmly believe our communities are only as thriving as we invest in them to be. That requires more than just paying your taxes and hoping for the best from the powers that be. It means getting involved, whether that’s responding to the natural world, helping care for others, or creating a space for free.

Here’s my latest:

• The Morongo Basin has a new artist collective and they just opened their first-ever community art gallery in Yucca Valley! We went to the opening last week and were so impressed by the works on display, and just genuinely stoked about how enthusiastic attendees were. I love where I live and the other wonderful eccentric people who call this place home.

• My latest Civic Solutions piece looked at how The Joslyn Center became the country’s first-ever certified autism-trained senior center. That means their staff knows what to look for in autistic adults, something that will become more important as populations age.

• This is from late May, but I’m super proud of this story about how Riverside County tapped animal rescue groups for its largest-ever removal operation of 80+ horses and a couple dozen dogs. The details on the site were scant, because the investigation is ongoing, but I am super grateful to All Things Hooved and the county for sharing thier stories with me. I am seeing that more and more of the rescued horses are finding homes, and I hope they thrive wherever they land.

Tunes & tales

My Kindle continues to be the closet thing I have to a child’s security blanket. Like my son’s favorite stuffed puppy, I don’t want to go sleep without it. Sometimes in the morning I find it on my husband’s nightstand instead of my own, because I fell asleep with it in my hand sprawled across his side of our bed.

As far as the contents, I’m all about the cozy mystery lately. I finished the third of the Thursday Murder Club series and PHEW what a treat! Those books really make me laugh out loud and have some great mastery twists, but are also really touching in a humanistic sense. Absolutely stoked about a potential film treatment. I am also devouring anything from Lucy Foley, I love the characters she creates and the interesting settings (The Hunting Party in particular is a great place to start). I also had a spate of trying to get into the Robert Greene works (48 Laws of Power, The Art of Seduction) but honestly never got in a groove so sent them back to the San Bernardino County Library System. A spell for another day, perhaps

On the music front, I’m getting back into Tom Petty in a big way thanks to the “Ways to Be Wicked” cover from the beguiling badass Margot Price. Diving into older catalogs is a really fun exercise, because there’s something satisfying about hearing new songs from an artist you’re already very familiar with. The new Zach Bryan album is everything I wanted it to be, as in something to play loud while driving into the sunset around JT. I also really like that new Sabrina Carpenter song “Please Please Please” a lot, even if it reminds me that I am basically older than dirt, and I’m excited to see what she does next. And the other day on KCRW I heard a dog called “John Lee Hooker for President” by Ry Cooder and I’ve probably listened to it another dozen times as I get into the rest of his work. In Cooder’s words; I want everybody to know I'm strictly copacetic.

Thanks, as always, for reading,

MD