I love California, and the powers that be ought to make me its Ambassador to the rest of the world. Why?
Not many people have been as blessed as I have been to relocate to a place on another shore, and as soon as they arrived and stepped off of the plane, knew that that they were at home. And 38 years later, I am still at home and loving every minute of every day!
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And that is exactly what happened to me when I stepped off of the plane at San Francisco International Airport in October 1973. I immediately experienced something then, that I am still experiencing to this day, even when I arrive from any other location in the world at San Francisco, including Hawaii. When I do arrive, I want to get down and kiss the California ground. And it doesn't matter, which of the 3 Bay Area airports I land at, SFO, Mineta or Oaktown!Now mind you, I love women, and I suspect that there isn't anything more beautiful on the face of the earth than a woman, that is with the exception of California. Ah come on, California was reportedly named after this beautiful Amazonian woman named Califa. The explorers had never seen anything quite as beautiful as she was apparently, and they compared her beauty to that of California, at least that is the legend.
Can you imagine what might have happened if I landed in California in 1973, and Califa was standing there too? Hmm baby, I would have asked for her phone number! California has everything that a woman has, brains, shape, good looks, fragrance, grace ... There is one major difference, however, I can do what I want to do in the state and no one is going to get upset with me when I do. Some females that I know, cannot understand why I prefer doing what I do without them. In other words, are you kidding me they say, "you would prefer to enjoy the topography of the state ... than to be with me", Ah don't get upset with me ladies, the second best thing about Caly is its women - well there is football too ...
A group of females that I had the pleasure of working with, years ago at EPRI, asked me one day, "Solomon, what do you do when you leave here on Monday nights, we have to go and pick up the kids from daycare, drive them home, cook, feed, entertain, take care of our husbands, put the kids to bed ..."? I answered, "well, I drive to Colonel Sanders, pick up some chicken, drive home, turn on Monday night football, place my feet up on the table, eat the chicken, call my friends to discuss the game ... and what's your point"? See, they believed that all of what I had to do on Monday night was easy work!
Well moving right along, California is simply a beautiful state, but besides that, what I liked when I first arrived, well shortly after I arrived was this, I loved the state's diversity and pluralism, something that I did not experience in my home state. There was a lot of negativity, among the citizens, in my native born state. California was clearly a progressive state, in comparison to most other states in the Midwest, North and South, that I visited.
When my dad came out to visit, for example, I was living in an apartment building that included blacks, whites and Asians. My white female neighbor, after I introduced my dad to her, spoke freely with him. And my dad, to my white neighbors chagrin, looked at me instead and gestured, "is it okay to speak back"? I assured him that that it was okay, if he were to speak back to my white female neighbor. Dad, also recognized and was somewhat shocked by the progressive nature of this place.
This was very different from Ohio, in fact I recall when shortly afterward we were able to move to the suburban area of our town, to an area known as West Hill. Ironically, we moved to a street that was about a mile from John Brown, the abolitionist's, previous home. At the time, I was in the 7th or 8th grade, when our neighbor from across the street, walked down the path from her house, and entered the street to get into her car. However, and before doing so, she looked over at us, several members of the family and I were sitting on the porch, and proclaimed: "Why don't you niggers go back to where you came from".
Initially, we thought, that she was coming over to welcome us to the neighborhood, or at the very least to give us a welcoming cup of sugar. And come to think about it, dad must have been right before, Why?. The day that we were riding down the street, in order to take possession of our new home, dad spontaneously began to play-act while driving.
He pretended to do and say what he believed that our new white neighbors were likely saying in their homes, as we were approaching the house: He said in a contorted voice, attempting to sound white: "By God, here come the niggers". My mother laughed but gave him a scolding, not in front of the children, look. Speaking of white flight, in no time at all, West Hill was completely gentrified, well, except for a few white homeowners, mostly seniors, who refused to or could not afford to move out to Fairlawn, Copley, Bath Township (along with the Jeffrey Dahmer family, the man who ate a black man, among other people), er herm!
While still residing in Ohio, Representative John Boehner's State, at the age of 17, I decided that it was time for me to get my own place. I began working at the age of 17, and before that I had a couple of minor jobs. However, since I had a good job, my own wheels, I began calling around to find a room or an apartment to rent. And was I in for a shock!
One woman was providing me with the details about a room that she had listed in the Beacon Journal newspaper, when suddenly and abruptly, during our amiable conversation - she apparently detected that I was black. She suddenly asked, "are you a nigger"? She then added, "I don't rent to niggers", and proceeded to hang up the phone. Er herm!
Well, a day or two later, being undeterred, I went and looked at another apartment near City Hospital, today it is known by some other name, Summa or something like that. The friendly owner showed me the apartment, and instructed me to bring the deposit back the next day, once I agreed to take the place. When I returned the next day with cash in hand, however,, he began the conversation by saying, "It's not me, however the tenants don't want any black people here". This was a huge house where everyone shared the same bathroom.
Some years before, a man was driving down the street in his pickup truck and stopped at the stop sign or light, I don't recall which one. He suddenly, while staring at me with this dirty look on his face, proceeded to spit this huge glob of sputum right down on the street while staring directly at me, as if to say, I hate you! Man I thought even back then, these people here are crazy.
I've never experienced anything like that over the span of 38 years in Caly. In fact, along with the diverse topography, there are a multitude of different ethnic groups in California. I ended up making and having friends with individuals of every hue, and of all nationalities in the West, north, central and south. To be sure, I can even make a decent Chinese chicken salad, cook some great curry dishes, and make my own form of sushi ...
Here is my problem, and it has always been this way: I simply don't like people who make my life difficult Toxic people is how I refer to them, and these are the kind of people that I experienced all too often in the Midwest. Conversely, Caly and people in Caly made me feel good, just as I always attempted to do with other people, and as a result,- all of us seem to get along just fine. My philosophy has always been essentially this, life is too short to endure nonsense and toxic people, so check please, whenever I am around toxic people. I immediately plan my escape.
Having said that, Caly was a bit fast for me when I arrived. I can still recall the first time, when walking down Market Street in San Francisco, I discovered porn in the sidewalk newspaper vending machines. And then one day near the bus Terminal on Mission Street, I noticed something called an Art Theater. Well, I liked art, so I crossed the street, dropped my quarter in the slot, peeked in and, hello ... I don't know if the woman that I was viewing was Califa or not. Well, anyway, I quickly left the art theater peek a boo machine!
Shortly after that experience, a merchant mariner stopped me near Beale Street and the Embarcadero, a place not too far from the infamous Ferry Building. He wanted to know where the Seaview Hotel on Peagreen Street was located. Initially, I thought that he was about to attempt a scam or a con, but on the other hand he looked sincere, and as if something was really wrong. I responded, "sir, I haven't been here long, however, I don't believe that either a Seaview Hotel or a Peagreen Street exists'!
As I began to inquire more into why he was looking for the street and the hotel, a sympathetic crowd began to gather around us. He answered, "I met the woman on the boat ... I gave her the money ... and she told me where to meet her in order to "make the love". A gentleman in the crowd after asking me what he wanted, (and I told him that the gentleman was looking for directions ...), answered for me and the rest of the crowd that gathered, this way. He said, "Sir, you don't need directions, you need some advice". Well, hello and speak your mind - eek!
Poor black man, probably from Guinea I suspect, with his merchant marine attire and pea coat, he had a tear in his eye. Well, welcome to California I thought. The woman took his money, and $50.00 was apparently quite a loss for him at the time. I wasn't that aware myself of the ways of the world at the time, but even I would have known, you don't pay for sex in advance!
Another humorous event occurred a week or two, after I arrived. I was walking up Market Street, when a female voice from out of nowhere said, "Praise the Lord". That was the standard greeting in the pentecostal denomination that I came from. Praise the Lord I thought, who knows me here in San Francisco, and it is a good thing that I am behaving? Then I turned around only to discover that a female who happened to be at church the Sunday before, was in San Francisco, walking behind me at the same time, and she decided to have some fun at my expense. We both had a good laugh, because as far as I knew, no one knew me in San Francisco outside of a few new friends who couldn't possibly have been there at the same time that I was there.
But from that day forward, California, became a place of fun, worship and discovery for me. In fact, it was if I was living in a destination resort all the time, for all of California, it would seem - was surrounded by mountains, water, beautiful topography, Califa's ... I thought again, I am at home, for home is where the heart is!
Well, afterward, there were other eye openers like the first New Year's Eve night celebration that I visited in San Francisco. Well, all I could say was, "hello", and I immediately went back across the Bay Bridge and returned to the east bay. Folks, I saw things that I have never seen before or since, out in the open. Er herm, COYOTE, the Sisters of Perpetual Motion ...! Shortly after that experience, a friend came out for a visit, and I took her to a play at Zellerbach Auditorium which is located on the campus of UC Berkeley. The problem was that the cast came out on the stage in the nude. Hello again, so we left, er herm!
Then there was the man walking down Telegraph Avenue with his wheezer hanging out, and before that I was driving up Market Street to Twin Peaks. Suddenly, as I was driving up the mountain, I noticed in this huge picture window that was facing the street, where a dark black man who was proudly wearing women's underwear and dangling a bra, was gesturing with, bra in his hands, to come on up. Er herm! And now for the bad stuff ... Look folks, we still have a great state, you have to be prepared for anything in the great state of California.
The Republicans, and the majority of California's citizens, having voted for Proposition 13, just about 3 decades ago, are responsible for placing this state in its current economic tizzy, and the energy crisis of a decade ago also contributed to our current economic woes. The California Property Tax initiative which seemed like the right thing to do at the time, has caught up with us. However, we still live in the best state in America, and the rest of the world as far as I am concerned, and I wouldn't trade it for any other place in the world. I am here to stay, well I think so anyway- but never say never, right?
Our work is cut out for us in the resilient 'state of Califa'... One out of every 7 or 8 Americans, is reportedly a Californian, and I can see why - there are 40 million of us. I spent a considerable portion of my time yesterday, the Fourth of July, sitting on the dock of the San Francisco Bay, watching the tides, planes landing and taking off, while enjoying good company and food, and I was not wasting time. After more sightseeing in San Francisco and on the peninsula, I drove to the south bay, lay atop a hill on my back, near the Mineta Airport in San Jose California, took pictures of the underbellies of jumbo jets that were landing at Mineta. Now where else on earth, can you have that kind of fun?
Yea, California is a cool and resplendent place, north and south, and I wouldn't trade it for any other place in the world. Do we have our own unique set of problems? Answer, and what state doesn't? Besides, if we are so bad, how come everyone keeps coming here to visit or to live, huh? I wonder what this Califa woman really looked like though, to have such a beautiful place (Camelot perhaps) named after her? She must have been quite a babe!
And if you are looking for a moral to my soliloquy, it is this: Enjoy your life, follow your dreams and never outsource the responsibility for your happiness to another person - who is likely following their dreams, in hopes of making themselves happy too. And that California must be the next best thing to Heaven. Okay, I am off to visit one or both street fairs that are taking place, the Blues Festival or the Black Rodeo where my bull-rider cousin, Billy Thunder, might be riding a bull. I have also learned to appreciate the rodeo, and can you believe that (some Californian's say 'ro-da-o'? er herm!
Solomon
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