Roots

California is the third largest state in the United States, losing out only to Alaska and Texas. I thought that perhaps it was the longest state, but Alaska is a clear winner in that department as well. But we are the most populous state, dammit... but that's not my point. My point here, is that yesterday I spent the day driving across a good sized chunk of the state to pick up a piece of art in the Los Angeles area, and then returned home that same evening. My friends said I was mad for doing this, but the item was simply way too expensive to ship and my time is apparently worth much less to me than my money. Plus they say you have to suffer for art, and even though the saying is only supposed to apply to the artist, I think I will appreciate this painting a heck of a lot more now that I've invested so much time in it. The total driving time was just under twelve hours, and it gave me a lot of time to reflect on the land that I was raised in and subsequently fled - this Los Angeles.

I was born in Sacramento, not L.A., and was raised in a loving household by responsible parents. My most coherent memories are of living in a freshly built suburban neighborhood on the edge of town. I had neighbor kid friends, I learned to ride a bike, I played my Atari 2600 until my eyeballs burned... everything was very typical for a kid my age in Sacramento. When we moved to Los Angeles, the main thing I remember is that it was to further my father's musical career. It wasn't that magical draw that took us there - it was simply a business decision. And yet... artists of all make and model move to LA to get discovered, so perhaps there was a spark of that magic to pull us along. From my nine year old perspective, though, I didn't see it.

Starting school, I found that my "typical" Sacramento life was fairly lacking in this new paradigm. Making friends in LA was a lot more difficult, since even at that age kids were more fashion conscious than I knew how to be, more image-oriented. I was just some hick kid from hicksville, and I got written off as such during my first week. Perhaps that first impression went both ways, and some small part of me always felt like they were all stuck up bastards for judging me. I largely withdrew from the social "scene", and most of the friends I *was* able to cultivate, were outsiders in some form or other like myself, even though many of them later outgrew it. As I, myself, grew older I slowly came to realize that I really didn't like my life in Los Angeles. I was bored and depressed - something was missing... something I couldn't put my finger on. With few alternatives, I made do with what I was given and I learned to live in LA, and did my best to thrive in that self centered atmosphere. But by the time I was 20 I was desperately looking for an escape. That elusive something that was missing... it called loudly to me. I needed to find out what it was.

What I didn't know then is crystal clear to me today - the differences between LA County and Santa Cruz County are as obvious as a full moon. Halfway through my drive yesterday, I was on the 405 freeway heading North out of the San Fernando Valley, when I was passed by a large pickup truck. It was one of those overpowered monsters that is basically a souped up SUV. It had oversized almost-monster-truck tires (mebbe 3-4 feet in diameter), huge flames painted all up the sides, a tricked out interior, and a California license plate that said GAXI[heart]LA. As I stared bemusedly at this behemoth sin against my sensibilities, I realized that it was actually a perfect example of someone completely in tune with the city. Los Angeles is all about "self". Self-improvement, self-gratification, self-nurturing. I don't think this is necessarily bad (Gaxi is obviously having a grand time of it), but it does enable a lot of the bad behavior that Los Angeles is known for. The snobbery, the freeway shootings, the fashion, the '80s, ... Hollywood. Most of the populace in LA simply put themselves first above everything and everybody else, and then they also put themselves second... sometimes even third.

I have to appreciate people like Gaxi and his/her Supertruck - the LA environment suits some folks to a tee, and like it or not, I have to give these people respect for successfully living that lifestyle. It takes a lot more effort than it looks like. But I find it interesting that most of my friends - people who were compatible with my personality - have left Los Angeles at this point, or seem to be planning to. And since many of my friends had that same missing sensation that I did, that same boredom, the exodus makes a certain amount of sense from my perspective.

So how did I find my missing piece of the puzzle? I discovered it by accident, here in Central California. It was nothing more than a friendly spirit - a spirit infused firmly into the land and the people. It's a welcoming vibe that says "Come in and have a seat, can I get you anything?" It was a shock, and a relief, to my system. After vacationing a week in Santa Cruz, Staci and I were so taken with the beauty of the forests and beaches, the central location to other cities and places, and the overwhelming friendliness of everyone we met, that we moved here as fast as we could. And I doubt I'll ever leave the area, whether I stay in Boulder Creek or not. Santa Cruz is truly a paradise to me. But it's not a vibe that fits well on everyone - in fact, I think some people find it severely smothering. A friend once told me, "There are too many trees here! I can't wait to get back to LA." My eyes almost fell out of my head! But one must respect the feelings of others, so I grinned and nodded sagely. Looking back on that comment, I honestly think it was the vibe, and not the trees, that was really causing her distress. She was so acclimatized to the LA city vibe, that the calm, homey atmosphere of Santa Cruz was making her claustrophobic. I think that the Los Angeles and Santa Cruz regions must be like oil and water, separating out the people in much the same way. Lands of extremes.

I left L.A. last night with a relief. Having been away from that city for so many years makes even the driving style of the cars around me feel aggressive and oppressive. I've clearly made my choice - in my heart I am a city boy... no longer.