I’ve always been intrigued by that “Sunkist” logo stamped onto oranges. Who ever
dreamed up the idea of taking a commodity fruit and putting a brand name on it?
Whatever becomes of the inadequate oranges that don’t make it onto the Sunkist
conveyor belt? Where do they wind up?
I realize these are hypothetical questions and that there are far more important ones to
consider. Like, why do I find spiders in my bathtub when the drain is closed? How many
of those chip clips are considered enough? We always seem to be short one clip, no
matter how many we keep buying. Finally, how long after dinner is it considered impolite
to still be chewing kale?
But I digress. My wife and I rented a condo recently in Palm Springs. It was winter and
the sunny days, golf course location and nearby snow-capped mountains were just too
good to turn down. Settling in, we asked some friends to come visit for a few days.
Awaiting their arrival, I went out onto the patio and noticed something I’d not seen
before. It was an orange tree laden with big, fat oranges and none with the Sunkist logo.
That’s when I hatched a very bad idea.
Grabbing a black Sharpie Marker, I did my best to remember the Sunkist logo. In an
effort to impress our friends, I drew it from memory onto as many oranges as possible.
Reaching for one last orange, I stumbled off the patio and into the garden. In mid-
stumble, I knew trouble was on its way, as I was about to land atop several cactus plants.
Only later did I learn that there are 12,500 different species of cacti, subdivided into 26
families. My drop-in visit introduced me intimately to several family members.
My backside and legs were punctured with spines and as I tried to extricate myself (a
maneuver requiring abnormal contortions usually only seen in high-level gymnastic
events), an impressive number of these spines came along with me.
A quick call to a walk-in clinic told me they were open and, thankfully, nearby. The next
problem arose when I tried to figure out how in the world I was going to sit in a car with
all these spines sticking out of me. I grabbed a pile of blankets, grimaced and made it,
causing quite a stir when I walked in. I heard someone say, “That guy looks like he needs
to go to a vet. He got mixed up with a porcupine.”
When the laughing stopped, the doctor grabbed some plier-like device and went to work.
Before long, he’d finished and I got back to the condo just in time to catch up with our
guests out on the patio. And that’s when my friend said, “How come that orange over
there doesn’t have a Sunkist logo? And why do you have all those dots of blood all over
you?”
“Porcupine Man” scarcely knew where to begin.
Jim is a semi-retired ad agency creative director living in Lake Tahoe. He’s now a busy freelancer and and even busier pickleball player. Recently, he’s been editing a book about the fascinating life and times of a good friend.