I’d be rich right now, if I had earned $5 every time I told that to Wonder Dog, or the GPS woman during my trip.
I found that things were not the same as I had imagined them to be, even though I knew that they would be different than when I last was in California.
I might as well tell myself, “Don’t look in the mirror, or you might get an unpleasant surprise!” which meant that I too have changed over time.
It seems as if there is a lot more of everything. More roads, people, businesses, pollution, houses, congestion, etc.
There is also a lot more less items as well. Less transparency in Government. Less time to enjoy life. Less value for the dollar, and less open breathable space.
I start out by saying, “I remember”, which is followed by “It is not the same as before”, or “There used to be….”, or “That road/building wasn’t there before”. I haven’t gotten rich as yet, but then my vacation isn’t over and done with either.
I still knew my way around the freeways in Los Angeles, and how to get out of town, when my visit there was over. I also recognized the barren mountainsides and the vast expanses of the Mojave Desert, as well as the towering mountain range known as the Sierra Nevada, but everything had changed all the same.
I was older, and hopefully wiser, but that remains to be seen, you know? I’ve had partial luck in remembering the name of Native Plants, which was my big hobby back then, but there are also holes, or gaps in my memory there as well.
My first girlfriend wasn’t home, but I did manage to take this photo, before journeying on to my next destination:
You might just see me in the background, trying to remember how it all went wrong between us, so many years ago? The place looked rather empty, and even my fondest memories of her yellow, Ford Mustang named after our future first child, who doesn’t exist, residing in driveway next to the house. Maybe it was the wrong house? Maybe I never was her boyfriend, and maybe we never did make out in her car at the parking lot of the Italian Restaurant in Los Angeles, after the Senior Prom in 1973?
Maybe I’m not who I say I am, or perhaps who I profess to be?
Memories are just not what they used to be, I guess? Maybe her parents really didn’t hate me, and her friends really didn’t warn her against me way back then?
What is important-Memory wise? What do we really want to remember of our past?
My dog, perhaps? He was always happy to see me, and didn’t judge me in the wrong light of the times. “You can’t go home again” – That is more true, than most of you youngsters will understand, but just wait until you too take a trip down Memory Lane….
I’ll be having a good laugh, wherever I’ll be at that time………