The most intense argument my best friend and I ever had centered on what the prehistoric Native Americans who traversed the wide open spaces of the Southwest were thinking as they walked across those deserted lands between the lonely mountains.

My friend insisted that they must have thought about the desolate beauty of their surroundings. Those ancient ones, he said, had to have looked up at the steep cliffs, craggy  precipices, and majestic cloud formations and recognized in them the beauty of nature and all its infinite variety.

I said they actually were looking either for their next meal or an escape from the harsh weather - cruel heat, harsh cold, or blinding sand storms - that make the desert what it is. An appreciation of creation's wonders was the last thing those poor souls had on their minds.

We argued for hours until a third friend called it a draw and forced us to move on. I honestly don't think either of us ever conceded an inch.

Many years later now, I'm still convinced I was right.

A recent road trip through the deserts of west Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and southern California (about 3000 miles round trip) took my family and me through some rugged deserts, mountains, and sand dunes. Yet we drove in air-conditioned comfort while my daughter watched movies on the brand-new minivan's factory-installed DVD player and our chubby little dogs slept quietly on the floor of the smooth-riding vehicle.

We weren't concerned about survival or outside temperatures or food. It was the price of gas for the car, the cellular signal for our phones, and the distances between rest stops that kept us talking. When those needs were met, we chatted about the rugged beauty of our surroundings, the heights of the saguaro cacti, and the vast distances covered by the "ribbon of highway" that never seemed to end.

In other words, assured our basic needs were met, we slipped naturally into conversations about the beauty of the land. The Natives' needs were far from assured. How could they have concerned themselves with anything more high-minded than food or water?

With all the free time on my hands (nothing to do but steer the van), the drive also gave me time to think of my next birthday - one of those that ends with a zero. I spent scores of miles mentally berating myself for my thoroughly modern outlook. To wit:

I'm depressed about turning 50 while those who walked across this land looked only for sustenance and lived hard, short lives.

What a world we've created for ourselves: self-centered, selfish, egocentric worrying about aches and pains, libido, and retirement planning while those prehistoric ancestors worried only about survival.

It may take me a while to get over myself, but you're welcome to watch the process. Please join me as we grow older.