CAN I DO IT?

LEAVING HOME

I never imagined I’d live in California; then I moved to West Hollywood and thought I’d stay forever.  But, after twenty-seven years enjoying the best weather in the world, and the most beautiful apartment in the neighborhood, a rent-controlled historic landmark haven, I believe it’s time to go. 

I need to imagine a new life.  How many times I’ve done that I can’t even count, but this will be the last time, so I’d better do it right.  I want to be near (but not too near) my grandkids in San Francisco; I need clean air, good climate, and reasonable housing - which doesn’t exist in San Francisco - plus something I always missed in Los Angeles – a sense of community, a feeling of belonging.  

So, thanks to Collette, a smart, sassy school teacher who moved to Vallejo eight years ago, and told me enough about this unusual city to make me curious, I’m camping out in a temporary rental in northern California, bundled up in warm sweaters, scarves, and boots, hunting down an old house, or a new condo, or I-don’t-know-what, and a new way of life in Vallejo on the banks of the peaceful Napa River.  My location is 33 miles by road, or a stunning ferry ride of less than an hour to San Francisco, where my sweet little chickadees reside.  

Vallejo’s an historic city on the edge; it’s gone through tough times, hit hard by the housing bubble and major budget problems due to gross political mismanagement, not to mention two crushing bankruptcies in recent history.  It seems to me Vallejo has nowhere to go but up.  Meanwhile, cheap real-estate abounds, an active community struggles to pick itself back up, and a feeling of optimism prevails.  I’ve met a lot of local artists, who are connected and like to get together, and they welcome me.  I’ve met people who care about the city and are working to make it better.  

This morning I called a couple I know and suggested we get together for dinner this evening.  They said yes, and offered to pick me up.  In Hollywood, my friends are always fully booked, or can’t commit, or busy until the last week of next month on Thursday, and invariably will cancel when the time approaches.   In Hollywood, one is always holding out for something better.  Getting picked up depends on which direction we’re going and invariably falls on me.  Really!  Let's face it: most of my friends in L.A are too busy for the likes of me.

I think, I hope, I’ve found a place in a community where I belong, where I can enjoy clean air and visits from my grandchildren.  I’m dreaming of family Sunday dinners in a place I call home.