While Dave and I played ping pong
at Engfer’s, he marveled at the fact that this morning we were skiing in Tahoe, and this evening we were taking a sunset stroll on the beach in Santa
Cruz. A guy who overheard said, “You two could be
an advertisement for California.” I like
that idea because I love California. I’ve
lived two places other than California in my life: Yokohama and Seattle. I had great experiences in both but often
found myself yearning for California.
Sometimes I’d play this song over and over to revel in that longing:
Maybe it’s because I grew up in
California. Maybe it’s because I love
the weather. Or maybe California seduces
me with her perfumes: pines and
redwoods in the mountains, oak and manzanita in the foothills, brine at the
beach.
Variety. Of landscape. And people. As Joni sings above, California is where "the folks I dig" live. Take, for instance, the campus where I teach. We have a 56% “minority”population, with 7% foreign national students. But those stats don’t capture the vibrancy of hearing students out in front of the Student Union chat in Farsi, Mandarin, or Spanish; or watching the group of lithe Asian guys break-dance in front of the library; or having students in my classes write papers that explore a huge range of life experiences.
Recently I
read a memoir piece written by a quiet, unassuming guy in my creative writing class;
in it, he poignantly details his anxieties about adjusting to home life after
some—shall we say brutal—experiences in the military, where he served in Afghanistan. He's just one face among many in the crowd that reminds me that my students have lived a lot of life.
Another student wrote a charming fiction piece about a girl trying to get another girl to fall in love with her—and at the end of the piece she declared, “This is based on a very true story!” In fact, in that class there are several gay and lesbian students who are very matter-of-fact about it. They talk and write about their boyfriends/girlfriends in the same nonchalant air as the straight kids. Now that’s equality in action.
Speaking of
diversity, on our drive home today we stopped in Jackson, a small gold rush-era
town. The place is a magnet for
leather-clad, tatted men and women on Harleys, who give off an aura of
freedom-worshipping tough love. I asked
an old candy store proprietor to steer us in the direction of the best place in town to eat. He recommended Mel and Faye's Diner. Then he told a story about
how Mel's used to have waitresses on skates but
because of some redistricting or change in city codes or something like that (I
was distracted by the seductive array of fudge and divinity in the glass case
he loomed over), they had to relocate, and they nixed the skaters. The new diner is located exactly 100 yards south of the old location.
He pointed us in the right direction, which involved walking across the freeway in the crosswalk. When a car stopped to let us cross, it was almost rear-ended by a huge biker in leather with huge mutton-chops barreling down in a huge Harley. But Mutton-Chops was no greenhorn bike rider. He leaned the bike over so far his body almost touched the ground, tires smoking. In a split second he squealed around the car in an impossible horizontal fashion and then righted the bike as he sped away.
Now that’s skill. I was humbled. My little tumble earlier that morning on the slopes was nothing in comparison. But I did get back up again and keep going, so I’ll give myself some props for toughness, too.
Mel’s,
by the way, has Sierra Nevada Pale Ale on tap (always a bonus for me), a huge salad bar, and delectable burgers with yummy fries for a great price. Instead of the dining room, we liked sitting
in the bar with the bikers, watching two California teams, the Giants and the Padres. They battled it out in Pac Bell Park, that wonderful California gem of baseball stadium.
In Joni Mitchell's song she's yearning for California and asks, "Will you take me as I am?"
I think the answer is "yes."
Variety. Of landscape. And people. As Joni sings above, California is where "the folks I dig" live. Take, for instance, the campus where I teach. We have a 56% “minority”population, with 7% foreign national students. But those stats don’t capture the vibrancy of hearing students out in front of the Student Union chat in Farsi, Mandarin, or Spanish; or watching the group of lithe Asian guys break-dance in front of the library; or having students in my classes write papers that explore a huge range of life experiences.
Another student wrote a charming fiction piece about a girl trying to get another girl to fall in love with her—and at the end of the piece she declared, “This is based on a very true story!” In fact, in that class there are several gay and lesbian students who are very matter-of-fact about it. They talk and write about their boyfriends/girlfriends in the same nonchalant air as the straight kids. Now that’s equality in action.
He pointed us in the right direction, which involved walking across the freeway in the crosswalk. When a car stopped to let us cross, it was almost rear-ended by a huge biker in leather with huge mutton-chops barreling down in a huge Harley. But Mutton-Chops was no greenhorn bike rider. He leaned the bike over so far his body almost touched the ground, tires smoking. In a split second he squealed around the car in an impossible horizontal fashion and then righted the bike as he sped away.
Now that’s skill. I was humbled. My little tumble earlier that morning on the slopes was nothing in comparison. But I did get back up again and keep going, so I’ll give myself some props for toughness, too.
In Joni Mitchell's song she's yearning for California and asks, "Will you take me as I am?"
I think the answer is "yes."
1 comment:
YES!!! I can so identify with this post Kate. This is exactly why I miss California and why I love it so much. The diversity in every way possible... people, places, things. I truly miss that and will always be a California girl at heart.
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