On two occasions this week I've found myself on the 101 after dark. Once, returning from a trip to Santa Barbara with the family, the second driving a new friend back to their home in Reseda.
I've come to realize that I've missed a few things and not even realized it. One, I've missed driving at freeway speeds. My morning commute in the carpool lane maybe gets up to 35. My evening commute, not that fast. Two, I miss driving my car. Most of the time I drive my wife's small SUV; I don't get much time behind the wheel of my Intrepid. Three, I miss driving after dark. Married with a kid kind of limits how often one can just get on the road at 11, 12, 1 or 2 am. It just doesn't happen, it's too hard to find a solid reason. And finally, as much to my surprise as anyone's, I miss the valley.
As I've moved further and further east, I've left the big city for small towns. Small towns like Glendale, Pasadena, Monrovia and all the drive-throughs like Arcadia, Duarte and the rest. The problem with these small towns is that they're trying hard to stay small towns. This self-aware-ness is frigging annoying. To make matters worse, we ended up living in the county, not even in a city at all.
I've tried to think about what would make me miss the valley. That's a little bit tougher, it's not something I can really put my finger on, but I can try. I think there's a sensibility that's different. Instead of a self-contained organism, it's part of a larger whole. It's a little more gritty, a little less controlled. I think the valley is more REAL.
And another thing... in my old hood, the hills belonged to everyone. Around here, it's all flat lands. Where there are hills, they're just residential neighborhoods where people wealthier than us live. Sure, we couldn't afford any of the houses on the hills of the valley, either, but roads criss-cross the hills taking you to other fun places like Hollywood, Beverly Hills and so on.
Around here, to go anywhere, we jump up to the 210 and go east or west. From my old haunts in Sherman Oaks, depending on where I was going, I could take the 101 or the 405, or catch a flight over the hill via Mulholland or other cross-valley paths.
In the mid-90's, the valley was home. Say what you will, it was a nice home.
3 comments:
Alright, let's nip something in the bud right now. We're friends, and because we're friends I can tell you this... you can't pull off the phrase "my old hood," not even ironically. Don't make me stage an intervention.
Keep in mind that you are in suburbia or, if you must, the 'burbs. Many people moved to suburbia for lower cost of living, but many others did so to escape the pace of the big city... only to find without that pace things can get real dull real fast.
I know that in a few decades I will be ready to buy one of those little cabins in the Colorado Rockies, me and my as-yet-undiscovered honey nestled betwixt the trees enjoying our golden years in mellow isolation. I can picture the wisp of smoke rising from our cabin's chimney as the fireplace and our love keep us warm. But I'm not there yet, and I wouldn't be even if I had discovered my honey.
You and Lori enjoy doing things, seeing things, experiencing things. You like your private time but when it's time to get out... out you wanna get. Be it nearby nature or nearby restaurants... something's got to interest you. Suburbia isn't always the best place for that.
On the bright side, you're in Southern California. Had you moved to my picture-perfect log cabin in the middle of nowhere you'd be hosed. But maybe 10-20 miles away you can find civilization, large concert arenas, Griffith Park... even Roscoe's Chicken 'N' Waffles. Just don't allow yourself to think you're confined to your own city's limits and you'll be fine.
And you can revisit your old Valley neighborhood from time to time, too.
I'm afraid that I can use hood. It's been around long enough that us white people can use it. Now it's jus an abbreviation. I will not use the 'burbs or burbs, though. I will not even use suburbia. Big city or little city or crappy county are my terms of choice.
I think going to Santa Barbara qualifies as getting away, and it's actually what revived my nostalgia. The 101 is so much a better freeway than the 210. The 210 doesn't go anywhere good and it goes there in a straight line.
Point taken. The 210 used to take me to the house I grew up in.
And, no you can't use hood. You're the only guy I know who is whiter than me and I can't pull it off. Invent a new word if you want, but no hood references for you.
Post a Comment