Lessons Learned in California, part 1

Lessons Learned in California, part 1

Pretty far into the twentieth century, or at least if you consider 10 years as a reasonable length of time to be considered as far as "long" as a period of time, I realized that I was in the streak of having visited or lived in the Golden State of California 17 years in a row. Sometime in the year 2010, when I was a father of four becoming a father of a fifth child, approaching the end of this realization of the seventeen years of presence on the Left Coast, I made a goal not to go there for 2011, to break the streak. Why? Why did 18 seem like too much? Usually I am all for going, visiting, traveling to places anywhere and everywhere, especially California. But I think that I needed to feel as though there were other places that I was going. And in distinct reflection now, some 10 years later, I perfectly recognize that there are lots of places, even whole regions of the most populated state in the country that I have never been to and I would love to visit and see more of. However, perhaps there are lessons to be derived from the times already spent there.

Here is a memory or experience hopefully associated with a lesson or chunk of knowledge from each of those 17 years.

1993-- San Diego, El Cajon, La Jolla, Tijuana (Mexico), El Toro, Disneyland, Los Angeles.

I was invited to go for my first trip and stay in California, which was to take place after my first semester of BYU-Provo, in the Zion Inter-Mountain West. I jumped at the opportunity to see the Pacific and even though the host was to un-invite many of the young men (and me) originally included to be part of the festivities, I stuck it out. Slightly awkward, but I was determined, especially since I bought the plane tickets before the disinvitation. 

Lesson? Don't get your hopes up too much to ask the girl that you have a crush on during the previous semester to hold your hand on the Magic Mountain ride at the end of the day at Disney World. Sometimes your hopes go crashing like the bumps and jolts of the roller coaster rail cars of said ride, and yes, very much alone sitting next to that girl, who politely said, "No thanks."

Later when telling this story, with slightly more background and context, people ask me,"You asked her to hold your hand? Dude! You just take it!"

Okay, fine. Lesson learned. Anaheim. I was too stubborn and too wimpy all at once. Maybe the word for that is "doofy".

1994 -- La Jolla, San Diego.

California is a very diverse place. My Provo Arabic house roomie was a quarter Persian, a quarter Indian, half Shelley, Idaho and all around sweet guy for inviting me to his family home for Thanksgiving that fall. I appreciated getting a little more SoCal warmth before my first whole winter in snowy northern Utah. I gave him, Shahram (his Farsi name), the advice not to pursue the young lady that was with us on the trip. She was nice, they liked each other "ish", had been seeing each other for a bit up till then, but I wasn't feeling it. He followed my counsel; they went to study abroad in the advanced Arabic program in Jerusalem the following semester for five months; he told me later that next summer when I joined him in the Holy Land that he was glad he took my advice to not pursue her. My pleasure, buddy. 

Lesson? I knows the ladies. Or at least I get things right with other peoples' ladies. Sometimes.

1995 -- Brawley, Mexicali (Mexico), Imperial Valley.

This is a hidden corner gem of the state, with cowboy Latinos and country Hispanics. Yes, that is kind of the same thing. Having grown up in southern Indiana and enjoying living and studying in Spanish-speaking South America, Brawley and the Rodeo Days in early November, compared to the cold Utah Wasatch front was a nice breath of warm, desert air.

Lesson? Sometimes it's cool to be the guy on a road trip with three young college age coeds. No hanky panky, I promise. Platonic friendships are good, and rural parts of California are not what you would think them to be. Think Arizona, or New Mexico, and those would probably be more the vibe of that region along the Mexican border.

1996 --Glendora, Anaheim, Long Beach, Los Angeles, Hollywood. Burbank, San Fernando Valley

Perhaps I did not realize it till writing this, but I visited California twice that year: first with my college friends Jennifer Van Angelenhoven and Nanan, of mainland China, and then later to visit my former girl friend Arlene, from South America, who flew there as an airline attendant.  

Lessons?

1. Chinese people are fun to take to China Town. Or at least my roommate was. The fact that he had a bad sun burn was not quite as fun, but was kind of funny.

2. You can get really lost in L.A. with no map, a lot of rain (which does happen in the winter), and a car that does not have proper defrost on the windows.

1997 -- Davis, San Francisco, Sacramento, Muir Woods, the beach down the hill from the Redwoods

The first time to drive across the width of Nevada! In July. A lot of sunshine. Wow. The car was somewhat crowded, too.

I finally made it to "northern California". This was my sixth time to the state but the first time up north. If you look at a map, the Sacramento Valley and the Bay Area are more located at the center and to the left of the state, but the attitude is all anti-So Cal.

Lesson? 

Hanging out with Jenni Davis and with her best friend Ingrid Davis and the Davis clan in Davis, California can be a fun way to break up your summer. 

1998 -- San Francisco, Tiburon, Rohnert Park, Sonoma, Marin County, Santa Rosa, Laguna Niguel, Orange County, San Joaquin Valley, Vallejo, Oakland

I made it back to the Bay Area, after moving back to the Midwest from Utah; I saw quite a bit more of the the central coastal area, plus we made a side trip to Orange County,  somewhat like that very first visit from Provo back in 1993 when we made a visit to a home in El Toro.

Lesson? 

Mexican-Americans are cool and fun people to hang around. I think that I got a taste for the Latino life in California. I was job prospecting for teacher positions, but I was definitely getting good vibes from the state. There was more of what interested me in California: Spanish, mountains, beaches, single women, temples, churches, colleges, diversity...

Yeah, California or bust. I was the new Grapes of Wrath Guy, or Of Mice and Men guy. Tom Joad. Or maybe George, the wandering laborer. Or maybe one of those good for nuthin' Mexicans in Tortilla Flat.

It was a Steinbeck vibe, for sure. That felt right. California here I come.