Goodbye San Diego

As the Hermit Philosopher prepares to move away, he wants to reminisce on his years spent in Southern California.

When he moved here in early 2012, two of the HP’s offspring were California residents: Scott in LA and Sarah in San Francisco. The former was an easy train ride away, and the Bay Area was a short flight. Since then, Sarah has grown a family and moved three thousand miles to Williston, VT, near Burlington (photo). Steve, who formerly lived in Tarrytown, NY, also has a family and now lives in a suburb of Boston.

Thus today the family comprises nine people, counting the two spouses and three grandkids, and seven of them are already in New England. There is only so much time to be together, so the HP will soon leave Cali.

I’ve loved the San Diego area for years. During my Navy tour here (’74 to ’76) we had two young sons and found a seemingly endless list of ways to enjoy the perfect weather, the beaches, the world-famous San Diego Zoo, Sea World, Disneyland, scores of golf courses, etc. etc. We even took in the Rose Parade in Pasadena one year, and I was twice a marshal in what was then known as the San Diego Open, a PGA event held on the famous Torrey Pines Golf Course.

But I no longer play golf. I don’t go to the beaches. I don’t visit touristy venues. For recreation I read, write, watch sports on TV, and play duplicate bridge either in person or online during the pandemic. I can do these things whether it’s warm and sunny or 5° and snowing.

Yes, it’s true that for years I said, “If I never see snow again it will be too soon.” Well, too soon has come. In mid-March I’ll head east on a 3,000-mile car trip (SUV, no motor home as originally planned) across the Southwest then to Atlanta, Pennsylvania, and finally the Green Mountain State.

The good things California has to offer will be missed: the great weather, the relaxed lifestyle, and my friends and neighbors. But I won’t miss the potential for drought, wildfires, and earthquakes. I’ve felt four or five mild tremors in the last nine years. They originated way out in the desert on a branch of the San Andreas fault and caused no damage, but they were reminders of what will happen somewhere nearby one of these days. 

As the state song says, “I love you, California, you’re the greatest state of all.” But Vermont has a song too. It begins: “These green hills and silver waters are my home.” That will soon be the case for the Hermit Philosopher, who will post next from the other side of the continent. ■