music: Santana- Live at the Fillmore ‘68
The last time I was in Northern California I was in the middle of a two month joyride around the American West. The time before that I was scouting grad school programs. Both times I found myself in the Bay Area, though, I kept wondering if there was a catch. In some ways, now that I’m back in Boston, I’m still wondering.
I spent last week in San Francisco paying some overdue visits and seeing what the place was all about. San Francisco has always been an outpost of people seeking their fortunes in one way or another, from the days of the Gold Rush and Manifest Destiny. It is one of those places where very few people are locals. It is a collection of self-uprooted transplants, those who are seeking something. Says the Northern California Handbook:
Californians tend to think life itself is a California invention, but “lifestyle” definitely is: people come to California to have one. Coming to California, novelist Stanley Elkin observes, ‘is a choice one makes, a blow one strikes for hope. No one ever wakes up one day and says ’ I must move to Missouri.’ No one chooses to find happiness in Oklahoma or Connecticut.’ And according to historian Kevin Starr, ‘California isn’t a place, it’s a need.’ Once arrived in California, according to the myth, the only reason to carry around the baggage of one’s previous life is if one chooses to.
San Francisco itself is a city. Undoubtedly. And as with any city it carries with it all the annoyances of urban living: traffic problems, having to lock your door, incessant noise, painful amounts of anonymity, and so on. It’s a city, there’s no getting around that. But as cities go, San Francisco seems to be one that has its priorities straight. The general consensus among the city’s residents is one that supports environmentally sustainable practices, public green space, talking to strangers, acceptance, and youthful attitudes. It’s probably no coincidence either that the Franciscian order is long associated with ecology and environment; San Francisco is in very close proximity to some of the most wonderous natural places I’ve seen. I took two day trips while I was there, one to a Redwood Grove named for another Wisconsin Boy who made his way West, and the other to the shores of the Pacific. And all this in a climate that is the stuff of dreams. All in all, San Francisco strikes me as a more humane city than the ones out East.
The first time I was in Northern California, in the spring of 2003, I almost moved there. The time was not right then; I had unfinished business in Boston. Now, approaching the spring of 2006, I am not so sure if my business in Boston is worth the cost of being here. I have lived on the East coast for nine years, which is sort of hard to fathom in and of itself. I’m not from here, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to settle here. Always in motion is the future, and there is no telling what tomorrow holds, let alone the coming months and years, but I sense a change on the horizon. I sense a whiff of the freedom that Thoreau found only when walking West. And after spending time on the other ocean last week and visiting with some dear friends who have themselves gone seeking some new life out there, I don’t shy away from the possibility for myself.
This much is sure: I will be in California this summer. The maps for the 211 mile stretch between Mt. Whitney and Yosemite Valley arrived today. AJM and I will spend a good four weeks in the High Sierras this summer as we tackle the John Muir Trail, some of the most revered areas in the fog-laden wonderland out West made famous by another wanderer from Wisconsin.
Posted by davidtaus at March 1, 2006 09:54 PM | TrackBack