Yesterday I was walking Biggie across the street at the
plaza from where the Belmont Pier extends out into the ocean. It was a nice warm day, but it wasn’t
completely clear. A light foggy
haze/smog was slightly diminishing the view to distant Catalina Island, but I
thought to myself, “I’ve been able to see this island almost every day for
nearly twenty years.”
After moving to SoCal in 1975, I lived at the foot of Mt.
San Antonio (Old Baldy) for five months before I was able to see it. The smog was thick virtually every day, and
when the smog was light, the wind was blowing dirt in thick clouds. Finally, one day I was driving somewhere
with some new friends, and I saw the mountains for the first time.
“Where did those come from?” The question blurted from my mouth before I could stop it, and my
friends looked at me as though I had just lost my mind.
It was somewhat the same thing the first time I walked
across the sand at Huntington Beach. I
could hear the ocean, but I was about twenty-five feet away from it before I
could see it.
For seven years I lived in SoCal, and for about two of those
years, I was an independent sales rep for a number of companies. I traveled the Pacific Coast Highway from
Santa Barbara to San Diego regularly and almost never saw the ocean through the
smog. And the only times I was aware of
the nearby mountains was when I was in them.
Smog was, and still is, a problem, but it is nothing like
nearly forty years ago. When Rachael
and I returned in the early nineties from a ten-year stay in Arizona, the
effect of emission controls on vehicles and industries was beginning to make a
positive impact. By the time we moved
to our present home in Long Beach, Catalina Island (more than twenty miles
away) was almost always visible, and I have rarely failed to start my day by
looking at it.
Today, Biggie and I walked back to the plaza, and the island
was perfectly clear. We sat down on the
edge of one of the big planters on the plaza and just watched as visitors from
distant places came by and pointed out across the water and commented about how
large the island is. Of course, they
also took time to pet Biggie.
I’ve been told I spend too much time reminiscing about the
‘good old days.’ Yes, I have some great
(and not so great) memories of times gone by, but every day is another ‘good
old day’ to add to my growing list.
Sitting on the planter with Biggie, long drives with my wife, friends at
the Casting Club, the Wild Game Feed, working as an actor, writing, volunteering
for projects as a master food preserver, leatherwork, fishing, cooking,
reading—the list keeps on going, and it’s all good. Catalina Island is just a bonus.
Maybe some day Rachael and I will take the ferry over there. We’ve had tickets for almost fifteen years,
and yes, they’re still usable.
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