Just For A Moment I Was Back At School...

This past Saturday, as I walked with my daughter, my son, and two of his friends along the Pacific Ocean in Santa Cruz, I recalled having been just up the coast from there some 40 years earlier, in the late-70’s, with my 1st girlfriend. This particular memory was triggered by merely watching the waves hitting the surf and cascading over my feet. Looking downward, as the water momentarily stilled and returned quickly back into the ocean, has the effect of making me feel like I’m falling backwards, causing me to lose my balance. This was first experienced on that day at the beach with Holly. She and I would stand in the surf together, me behind her, both of us looking down at the sand and repeatedly supporting each other as each wave came in. We would almost lose our balance every time, laughing endlessly. It was a time of innocence, and the earliest stage of my first serious relationship. It was the beginning of a series of experiences that would set the stage for the rest of my life.
All of this briefly came to mind as I watched my kids, now 13, playing with their friends along the surf. It occurred to me that they are close to the age where my own life seemed to blossom into one of a stronger self identify, a sense of independence and individuality. When I stopped being my parents child, and became my own person.

It's striking to consider how much time has passed between that experience, the numerous events since that remain vivid memories to this day while others have been misplaced in the course time. How I have remained the same person while changing dramatically myself, and how many places that played a part in my youth remain active reminders while just as many have changed, or gone away completely.

Towards the end of High School, Holly, my friends and I frequented that beach up the coast along with many other spots that have gradually disappeared over the decades. Tower records is gone. The day-care she worked at on the end of Blaney Rd. is gone. The Dairy Queen is gone. Valco is abandoned. Our high school is completely remodeled. Consumers Distributing, Alpha Beta, Mervins, Gemco, they’re all gone. Even her home on Jonhson Ave. is gone. Completely gone. More often then not, I find myself driving past locations of would-be landmarks of my youth that have since evolved or been completely replaced. Such is the nature of time, and of progress. And of aging.

The feelings I associate with that period of my life feel as vibrate and crisp today as the days they were formed in. In fact, even more so now. Standing on that beach, even though I was in the same general location, it was not the same sand between my toes, it was not the same water rushing over my feet, It was not even the same city in many ways. So much has changed over time, while all the memories have done is intensify.

Tonight, en route to pick my kids up for the evening, the randomized shuffle of my 5-star playlist, being the consciously defined soundtrack of my life, landed on “Tell Me To My Face”, the spectacular song from the equally spectacular 1997 Dan Fogelberg and Tim Weisberg collaboration “Twin Sons of Different Mothers”. It is a wonderful song with a layered uptempo rift, along with Anderson-eque flute and Santana-eque guitar solos. I have not listened to that in probably some 20+ years or more. But I sang along without missing a word. It’s that engrained.

Dan Fogelberg’s music draws a direct connection for me to Holly. I’ve mentioned her in prior writings and will likely do so again. She was my first love, as I was hers, and the relationship lasted some 7+ years. The music on that record, and on “Netherlands” as well as “The Innocent Age” are wholly interwoven into our shared experiences. To this day, without fail, I cannot hear it without being flooded with the memories of that time and relationship. Flooded with gratitude, warm reminiscence, a deep regard for the lessons we all learn in time, And also with pain, guilt and regret.

Time and circumstances took us in different directions. But in all honesty, in great part, my fears as to the nature of commitment and responsibilities at the very young age of 20 caused me to pull back from the path we were on, wondering instead what might lie down one of many other roads. It pains me to this day to consider that some of the situations we faced, and decisions I made likely caused her to face struggles, pain and disappointment in her next relationship and marriage. My stumbling manner of ignorance and irresponsibility left bruises that may have never healed. I have regretted  that for decades while recognizing that I’m not alone in reflecting on things done in the ignorance of youth from the vantage point of further experience and time.

I know just a few people who married their high school sweetheart, and have stayed together to this day. It seems so rare, it’s something I’ve envied when I’ve encountered it, and it’s always left me wondering what might have been, had I been less apprehensive to go with the flow and more open to what could be built upon the foundation we had created. I even told Jennifer within the past week or two, as we talked briefly about Steve and Diana, one of those aforementioned couples I know, my wonderings about the life I might have had, vs the life I've lead instead.

It's an essential goal of mine, and a responsibility I feel deeply, to give my kids life experiences that reinforce the value of venturing out and about, even if it’s just taking a 30 min drive. I want them to be exposed to more then just watching TV or playing games. So, after I picked up my kids tonight, I drove them back over Hwy 17 to Santa Cruz, with no particular destination in mind. On the way there, I insisted that instead of relinquishing the music selection to them as I typically do, I needed to listen to “Twin Sons…”. Driving that route, with that music playing, brought back the very memories I’m relating now, and more. Time going back and forth to the beach with Holly and Matt Bergren or Conens and others, it was a joy to recall it all, with bittersweet reminiscence of the youth now far behind me, while giving optimistic consideration to my own children’s youth, and the memories they are only just beginning to create.

After snagging an excellent burrito for him and a way-too-spicy-enchilada for her at one of the many “hole in the wall” Mexican restaurants in town, we wandered about the empty boardwalk a bit. We were about to head out and stop for a scoop of ice cream when he recalled the recent reports of baby sharks swimming around the “cement ship” at the end of the pier at Seacliff Beach. I thought it might be interesting, and gave them the option of one or the other, but not both. They choose Seacliff over ice cream which indicated a sincere interest, so off we went.

Seacliff Beach was where I’d spent that time in the water with Holly, those 40 years ago. The “cement ship” is an unused 1917 WWI warship named the “Palo Alto” that had been intentionally placed there in 1930 for amusement and fishing purposes, but had since been closed off. Driving up towards the entrance brought back even more memories, adding to those already lingering from the prior day and the conversation last week with Jen, and of course with the music that accompanied my drive.

So many places have changed over time but here was that same beach, the same zig-zagging wooden steps that lead from the upper parking lot to the pier below, the same winding road I drove down in a bubble-top van in the late 70’s, and the same wooden pier. But to my shock and dismay, not the same cement ship I expected to fine. That, I sadly discovered tonight, had collapsed earlier this year during the heavy storms, causing it to have caved to the side and to have broken apart into multiple segments.

My heart ached as the shock and surprise took hold. I’d missed this news of this until now. But to stumble upon it so suddenly when all these memories were surfacing was jarring. But then something stronger resonated. The opposite of grief or dismay. Recognition of the reality of this as just a part of the passing of time, and the reality that what’s here today won’t be here forever. Like those other places that have since gone away. Those places, for me, were likely replacements of places held just as dear to member of a generation or two before me, before they even came to exist as I knew them.

Just as those places changed over time to become place in my own memories, this ship too has given into the forces of time and nature. As will, in time, I too.

As we drove back over the hill, “Twin Sons….” was replaced with “Netherlands”, and my thoughts returned to my youth, my time with Holly, my kids, the experiences I’m sharing with them, and the realization that what is so important to me about these memories of those people and places is within their temporary nature. That they won’t be around forever makes them all the more precious for now.

“Once upon a time, 

You held a love so strong and fine, 

that all the others simply don't compare.
She's always on your mind, 

but once upon a time you had her there.” - Dan Fogelberg