NOTE: Today's entry was written while we were on vacation
So far our vacation has been a blast. On Saturday we flew out of our home town and spent the next twelve-odd hours getting to our destination. Like I mentioned, the kids had never flown before, and they took to it very quickly. During the first flight, they asked a million questions… How does this work? What if I have to go to the bathroom? What was that noise? During the second flight, they observed… the people, the sky, the clouds below us, the baby in the seat next to us. By the time the third flight had come, they were tired of being in the air, and wanted to be done. In all honesty, I was a little tired of it too.
On our first full day here, we drove to the beach, which was about an hour away. It was a sunny day, but a little cool. Cool by California standards, of course. We, coming from Iowa, thought it was warm enough to hit the beach, especially considering that the kids had never been to the ocean before. (I had thought that my older daughter saw the Atlantic, but I was mistaken.) The beach we visited was Balboa Beach; a place that I used to visit frequently when I was stationed in Tustin. So in addition to giving my children their first visit to California, their first plane ride, and their first glimpse of the ocean, I got to take a stroll down memory lane.
Getting to the beach brought back a flood of recollections, some vivid enough that reliving would be a more appropriate word than remembering, others so vague that I wasn’t quite sure if it was a memory or something I read in a book. Mostly the latter. I knew the streets… I knew how to get to my destination… I distinctly recognized a few landmarks, and vaguely recalled a few others. The paths were familiar, but the stores had changed. The pier was the same, but the people were different. I didn’t have much time to think about the past though. The kids jolted me from my reverie and we started into the ocean. As we ran for the water, a wave rolled in, putting the family on a collision course with one of Mother Nature’s strongest forces. In the end, she went easy on us, but reminded us of her power. The wave crashed and harmlessly covered our feet, but the water was freezing, and we all gasped and screamed at the shock. Soon, our bodies went numb from the cold and we swam with delight. Eventually though, even the numbness failed to stave off the chill and it was time to walk around town. As we meandered through the shops, I was still surprised by how little I remembered. I recalled the pier and some of the crazy things my friends and I used to do, but none of the stores. I recognized a few of the attractions, but none of the names. It was a strange mixture of sightseeing and revisiting.
On the way back from the beach, I drove by the base where I was stationed -- a base that’s now closed. For the most part, nothing is left. One of the hangars, most of the barracks, and all of the base housing had been wiped from existence. In their places were roads, businesses and construction… or nothing. A large portion of the base was still fenced off, but through the fence I saw grass beginning to grow through the concrete, and weeds encroaching on the few buildings that remained standing. Tustin was significantly different than the beach. As I drove the perimeter of the base, I was acutely aware of what had changed, and what remained the same. Seeing the base at Tustin was an incredibly bittersweet experience. Driving around what little remained of the base produced a deluge of memories. At the same time though, a lot of my past is being eradicated. There’s no doubt that by next time I come to California, what little remains of the base will be gone forever. It will be as if a part of my life never existed. On the good side though, at least I remembered Tustin… much unlike the beach.
On our first full day here, we drove to the beach, which was about an hour away. It was a sunny day, but a little cool. Cool by California standards, of course. We, coming from Iowa, thought it was warm enough to hit the beach, especially considering that the kids had never been to the ocean before. (I had thought that my older daughter saw the Atlantic, but I was mistaken.) The beach we visited was Balboa Beach; a place that I used to visit frequently when I was stationed in Tustin. So in addition to giving my children their first visit to California, their first plane ride, and their first glimpse of the ocean, I got to take a stroll down memory lane.
Getting to the beach brought back a flood of recollections, some vivid enough that reliving would be a more appropriate word than remembering, others so vague that I wasn’t quite sure if it was a memory or something I read in a book. Mostly the latter. I knew the streets… I knew how to get to my destination… I distinctly recognized a few landmarks, and vaguely recalled a few others. The paths were familiar, but the stores had changed. The pier was the same, but the people were different. I didn’t have much time to think about the past though. The kids jolted me from my reverie and we started into the ocean. As we ran for the water, a wave rolled in, putting the family on a collision course with one of Mother Nature’s strongest forces. In the end, she went easy on us, but reminded us of her power. The wave crashed and harmlessly covered our feet, but the water was freezing, and we all gasped and screamed at the shock. Soon, our bodies went numb from the cold and we swam with delight. Eventually though, even the numbness failed to stave off the chill and it was time to walk around town. As we meandered through the shops, I was still surprised by how little I remembered. I recalled the pier and some of the crazy things my friends and I used to do, but none of the stores. I recognized a few of the attractions, but none of the names. It was a strange mixture of sightseeing and revisiting.
On the way back from the beach, I drove by the base where I was stationed -- a base that’s now closed. For the most part, nothing is left. One of the hangars, most of the barracks, and all of the base housing had been wiped from existence. In their places were roads, businesses and construction… or nothing. A large portion of the base was still fenced off, but through the fence I saw grass beginning to grow through the concrete, and weeds encroaching on the few buildings that remained standing. Tustin was significantly different than the beach. As I drove the perimeter of the base, I was acutely aware of what had changed, and what remained the same. Seeing the base at Tustin was an incredibly bittersweet experience. Driving around what little remained of the base produced a deluge of memories. At the same time though, a lot of my past is being eradicated. There’s no doubt that by next time I come to California, what little remains of the base will be gone forever. It will be as if a part of my life never existed. On the good side though, at least I remembered Tustin… much unlike the beach.
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