“I suddenly realized I was in California. Warm, palmy air – the air you can kiss – and palms.”
-– Jack Kerouac
I feel it every time I start that long smooth glide past the little mountain town of Alpine down Interstate 8 into San Diego: The air grows warmer, more kissable maybe; palm trees appear; and I can almost smell the ocean a few miles ahead.
Then, just past El Cajon, my romantic illusions fade in the frenzy of freeway rush hour. But after experiencing a harrowing drive into Memphis a few weeks ago, I know what to do. I exit the freeway on Texas Street and wind my way down University through Hillcrest to Balboa Park where I take Annie for a walk.
Then I locate the shortcut I discovered when I lived San Diego and make my way to Dayle and Larry’s house in University Canyon with nary a wrong turn.
I know San Diego pretty well. I lived there from 1997 to 2001, in the Hillcrest area, and again in 2012 and 2013, in Little Italy. And for the past three years, Dayle and Larry have invited me and Annie to stay in their home for several weeks in the spring while they cruise the seas of the Far East, India, Antarctica, and the Middle East.
So arriving in San Diego is a little like going home, a lot like traveling back in time.
After our walk in Balboa Park, I drove past the apartment on Third Avenue where I lived in the 1997-2001 period . . .
. . . There’s two-year-old Taylor perched on the second-story balcony rail, my arms wrapped tightly around her warm little body, watching the sidewalk traffic below.
. . . There’s Phil leaning his bicycle against the wall and waving to me before he bounds up the stairs to my front door.
. . . There I am sitting at my computer, struggling to keep up with my new website which I dream of selling to one of the money men sniffing around all the burgeoning dot-coms.
. . . There I am, three years later, dot-com bust in full swoon, heading to Phoenix trailing clouds of broken dreams.
But now, in 2019, I am in Balboa Park with my Annie, reveling in this beautiful spring day and looking forward to several weeks in Southern California.
Life is good.
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