There's No Place Like Home

"I've lived so many places in my life and times..."

Yes, I share that with Leon Russell.  My husband and I have lived in LA, San Diego, Utah high desert, Lexington KY, Richmond VA, now the White Mountains of N.H.

My favorite place is and always has been San Diego.  It's where I finished college,  lived in my twenties after a divorce and moved back again in my late thirties with a husband and two toddlers.  It is the most perfect place I've ever lived.  Why?  The weather is gorgeous, mean annual temps hover at 68 degrees.  It's dry, it's beachy, it's home.

I was always grateful to be there.  Every day was a gift.  I would awaken, more often than not, to a sunshiny, temperate day of blue skies, soft ocean breezes and unlimited outdoor recreational opportunities.  I learned to play racquetball and tennis and badminton.  I body surfed.  I  rode bikes, swam, soaked up the sun.  I played softball.  It was almost effortless.  Being young can be effortless.   As I've aged, I realize how important that warm, temperate weather is.

What sticks with me?  The friends I made and still retain; some date back to college.  Most, however, were during my first "corporate" job in advertising.  It was a fertile time for twenty-somethings, working in the same fun-filled atmosphere of a cutting edge marketing department where we were encouraged to think outside the box and to always have a great time.  We traveled together in a pack, all of us unmarried, in our prime (so we thought) and not too serious.  Weekly movie excursions to large theaters with large screens allowed us to analyze and argue each and every frame.  Concerts, another go-to as most of us could get tickets for free from the local radio and tv stations with whom we advertised.  We spent big bucks.  It was an unspoken quid pro quo.  So were  Padres baseball, Charger football, San Diego State football, all three played in the accomodating centrally located Jack Murphy Stadium.  The Volvo Tennis Tour played in Balboa Park for years; the Virginia Slims played La Costa.   Outdoor concerts with fabulous entertainers on Shelter Island or at the Marina made summer evenings fly.  Happy hours on the beach in iconic restaurants where we'd stop after work and relax, watch the sun settle over the ocean, and embrace what the weekend might offer.

San Diego was once a sleepy town comprised of  fabulous beaches, the world class San Diego Zoo,  in  the world class Balboa Park, iconic restaurants, outstanding Mexican food at every price point, beautifully preserved architecture from the turn of the century (a rarity in SoCal), an excellent Amtrak system, an excellent freeway system and an easy-going attitude.  People were friendly and unpretentious (unlike LA).  I've been gone 15 years and no longer know if this holds true.  Once San Diego developed thriving biotech and internet-related industries, LA folk started moving south, developers began paving paradise and we left..  That said, it held true for the 25 years between college and raising my sons when I moved in and out of there three times.

I haven't been home in 5 years.  Physical liabilities, timing, other have prevented my taking that once a year trip.  I am homesick, no doubt about it.  This is going to be the year I go home, see my friends, walk on my favorite beaches, eat real Mexican food, soak in the sun and the salt air.  My heart won't let me stay away any longer.  

This is in response to a writing prompt on "imaginary garden with real toads"

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Taking One's Time

It's August.  I live in a tourist destination and we are full up! While trying to navigate the area today, I doped off, becoming ensnared  in a line of tourist traffic forcing me to drive very sloowwly down the main "business route" through town. After 14 years in the mountains, I'm still an impatient driver.  It no doubt stems from my SoCal upbringing where "Hurry up and wait" is the driver's motto.  Rarely, however, does bumper to bumper LA traffic afford one a view of anything interesting other than the guy next to you talking on his cell or worse, picking his nose. Here, it's a sensory experience.

Today, I found myself looking in store windows, artfully displayed for summer visitors. I saw people eating al fresco, enjoying their food and the beautiful weather. I saw bicyclists, joggers, dog walkers, park sitters, moms pushing strollers, old folks, youngins and everything in between. I noticed our lovely independent book store had a new coat of paint; that a small retailer had expanded, we have more new hair salons, we have less real estate offices.

I noticed the summer flowers planted by the Garden Club in and around major traffic crossroads.  The green spaces were green with granite benches for sitting.  There were water fountains, here and there, reminiscent of horse troughs but made of granite.  Everything is made of granite because it is, after all, "the Granite State".

I thought of all the years I'd waited in traffic, to and from the Valley to L.A.; to and from Richmond to D.C.; in and out of major cities while on business.  I thought of the many hours of pleasurable car trips my husband and children have taken over the years up and down the coast to see my parents in their central coastal community of CA.  The coastline from Ventura County north is always beautiful.  It never gets old.

But I digress.  Here is a two minute video of where I live, produced by the people with whom I work.  Stop what you're doing and take time to watch.  You'll be glad you did.