|
|
|
|
|
A friend from SomewhereOutsideCaliforniaLand emailed me earlier and asked how things are in "perpetually sunny California?" Now, the myth of perpetual sunniness is one that has long needed shattering, especially in reference to the northern half of the state. Yes, we are enjoying sunshine at the moment. No, we do not live in perpetual enjoyment. You must have us confused with San Diego.
This exchange between friends evoked one of those *BAM!* moments when a childhood memory leaps into the forefront of your thoughts from deep within the great expanse known as the "back" of your mind, where memories good and bad live in giant archives nestled amidst the grey matter, dripping with anticipation for the proud day they'll be recalled.
When I was six years old and living in the redheaded stepchild of boroughs that is Staten Island, my parents alerted our neighbors that we were preparing to move to greener pastures out west. One of these neighbors (Mom, do you remember?) took to singing "California, Here I Come" whenever I was around.
I remember liking the tune, liking the fact that I was moving to a new state with a cool name that I was excited to spell. And yet whenever Mr. Wannabe-Sinatra would sing, he had me wondering what the hell "bowers of flowers" were and how exactly the "Golden Gate" was going to open up for us? I had made numerous airplane trips to California in my half-dozen years on Earth and never once had I seen any such gate opening. Maybe it didn't open when you were going there to visit, only when you went to live there? Maybe we had to sign up in order for the gate to open for us?
Now, nearly 30 years later, living in the shadow of the Golden Gate, I am aware of its significance and awed by its powerful beauty. I suppose it opened up for me when I first arrived at six and even more so when I returned at 32, weary after six years in Manhattan. And I'm confident that, should I choose to leave again, it will remain open, awaiting my eventual return. Though I still have no fucking idea what bowers of flowers are.
Posted by ayelet at July 20, 2006 02:01 PMHi all! What do you think about conflict in Israel?
Posted by: Gary at July 31, 2006 05:17 AM
bow·er Pronunciation Key (bour)
n.
1. A shaded, leafy recess; an arbor.
looked it up.
funniest thing, when i put "bowers of flowers" in the google search, your post came up on the first page!
Posted by: Aviva at July 21, 2006 07:17 PMHilarious! On one of my trips to San Fran, a friend who lives there explained that "NoCal" and "SoCal" are really two states with their own climates and cultures who tolerate each other only when it benefits them. I think the Golden Gate Bridge has a soul that is undoubtedly female, usually beneficent, and always haunting.
Posted by: Aaron at July 21, 2006 03:17 PMFunny you should mention San Diego, where it's been a hot & humid July this year for the first time in the 6 years I've lived here, and by a friend's account the worst summer in his 10 years. Currently 7AM and it's sunny, over 70 degrees on its way to 90 and 88% humidity! EIGHTY F-ING EIGHT PERCENT!?! I'm running the A/C and dreading the bill, but the girls have gotta sleep. I'm jealous of 40-degree nights. Jealous. I do NOT pay this sunshine tax to get this crap - and there aren't many indoor activities to engage in, so it's extra miserable. Oh well, guess I'll have to go swimming in the 70 degree Pacific Ocean this weekend. :)
Posted by: Aviva at July 21, 2006 07:03 AMDespite remembering how much the weather near the beach in SF is like being inside a refrigerator--40 degrees and you can see the white ceiling overhead--I'm still jealous that other people get to live where it isn't 88 and humid for months on end.
Posted by: dave at July 20, 2006 05:59 PM