On Change, Oceans, and Weird Time

"California here I’ve come,

Right back where I once was from."

Yes, I’ve made a big move, and various aphorisms come to mind:

• Change is the only constant
• Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose
• When you’re finished changing, you’re finished
• Change is good, but dollars are better

Whatever the apt expression, I’ve made this transition and am settling in once again to the Southern California lifestyle. The beautiful city that I left 36 years ago feels surprisingly familiar. Just a few feet above downtown airplanes still glide down to land beside a bay dotted with sailboats. Balboa Park still harbors the zoo, museums, and the Navy Hospital where I was stationed for a couple of years. And the various city neighborhoods — North Park, Hillcrest, Mission Hills — still have their individual charms.

There are some differences, of course. The downtown, once neglected and blighted, has been revived with condos, skyscrapers, the convention center, and a new ballpark where I got sunburned one recent Sunday afternoon. Gentrification has improved some of the older urban neighborhoods, adding new restaurants, shops, and multiuse facilities to the historic Spanish architecture. And the bus system, awkward at best in the 70s, has been augmented by light rail; I am able to get virtually anywhere without a car. (I sold mine in Atlanta and don't plan to buy another.) 

One constant is the vast Pacific. It continues to loom off Point Loma as big as eternity, and it pushes its marine layer ashore every morning this time of year. “June gloom,” as the locals call it, because the sun doesn’t come out until after 10 a.m.  Egad!

There’s another problem with the Pacific — it seems to be on the wrong side. My internal GPS system orients toward the nearest major body of water. In St. Louis it was the Mississippi; in Chicago it was Lake Michigan; in DC or Daytona Beach it was the Atlantic. The first time I moved here I was 180° off for about three months. 

I was talking recently to my Uncle Fred, a Miami native, and he asked how far east I had to go to get to the ocean from my apartment. I said, “Oh, about 2,200 miles. But if you’re asking how far it is to the Pacific, it’s about five minutes to the west.” I guess I’m not the only one for whom the ocean is on the wrong side. LOL

The other major adjustment I need to make has to do with the clock. Although I’ve lived in nine different states, in my whole life I’ve always been on either Eastern or Central time except for 2½ years. But of course California is on Pacific time. Sports Center comes on here at three in the afternoon! The telecast of an evening baseball game from New York or Boston, for example, ends here about 7:30 p.m. And I will be able to stay awake until the end of a Monday Night Football game for the first time in many years.

Back in the 1970s when one of my Navy friends was transferred from San Diego he wrote me from Norfolk that he was glad to be back on “real time.” Not me; I’m liking Weird Time. It’s a nice change. 

Here are a few more pictures for your viewing pleasure. 

Farmer's market on my block

My apartment complex

View from near my place

My Navy Hospital office building

View of the bay and downtown from Point Loma

Here's my contact info:  4021 Falcon St. #409, San Diego, CA 92103. Phone: (770) 757-1815. Please look me up if you’re ever in the San Diego area.