California Dreaming
January at Stinson Beach in Marin County a few miles north of San Francisco. This is winter in Northern California: mild temperatures, mostly clear skies, dry. After heavy December rains prompted a little hope that the drought might end, January came up warm and sunny. Hardly a hardship for a visitor from Paris, but here the drought continues.
I’m here to visit friends, people I’ve known and loved for many years, the people who caused me to think hard about leaving San Francisco. I live in Paris now, but I could never leave my friends. And so, this visit.
We’re aging now, moving into that twilight realm which popular culture doesn’t target, and we, conveniently, don’t care. But the sidebar to our confidence in who we are and what we like is the discomfort caused by change. We tell ourselves it’s inevitable, we believe it, but the feeling of being left behind is disorienting, even if we see the world plunging into a dystopian future. Only yesterday it was our world, our music, our culture, and if our place in it wasn’t always secure, these anchors kept us rooted.
This beach at the foot of Mount Tamalpais has been a special place since close friends came to live here years ago. They brought lively gatherings, great food and wine to the many pleasures of the shore. To breathe the fresh sea air is to be renewed, it clears the dross from the brain, creates space for fresh ideas. The power of the water is a source of wonder and a warning of our weakness. Sinking bare feet into the sand anchors us to the planet until the next wave erases our presence. Only memories remain.
