Describe the last difficult “goodbye” you said.
For most of the people I’ve said “goodbye” to over the years, it’s really been more of a “see you later.” We mostly still keep in touch, however sporadically, and I’ve lost only a few whom I’ve really cared about.
But California, now… Well. That’s different. I left the land of temperate winters for Northeast Pennsylvania, where the “change of seasons” (that so many people claim to miss or desire) consisted of infrequent blizzards. My favorite weather story concerns coming out of the UC Berkeley campus library in late February and realizing I smelled honeysuckle. So early!
Though to be fair (or accurate), it’s presently late February as I write this, and some southwestern Pennsylvania plants are already poking their heads out. Thanks, Global Climate Change!
I did experience the 6.9 Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989, but in spite of that, I do miss that state. I had some bad memories of crappy professors and academic experiences, but I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.
On one of my last days there, I experienced the yin and yang of Berkeley. Leaving a park performance of the San Francisco Mime Troupe, I approached a gathering of motorcycle cops. They began pulling out, one by one, apparently off to create or stop mayhem (depending on the local who might argue that point).
As I work on getting StoryZ, my theatre company, established, I tell people that I want to be like the SFMT, showing up, setting up, and performing. So much of my six years in residence in the state of California has stuck with me, and I have a CA, not NY, state of mind.
MUSOFYR 