Half a year onward and a holiday party

Today marks about the six-month point that we've been living on the Central Coast; perhaps it was appropriate we return to the San Joaquin Valley for a party on Friday night, to remember where we came from and look over the old geography, half a year on.  It felt very familiar being back there, both in good and not-so-good ways.  The valley is never more beautiful (my opinion) than this time of year, the quiet fields, the little farmhouses with warm lights coming from the windows at sunset, and the eastern sky far off in the distance turning a lovely shade of violet...those things all make for a very pretty, Christmas-card kind of setting.  The people are friendly, and the streets are long and straight, with nary a bend in the road to contend with, most of the time.  I first visited the valley during Christmas 22 years ago, and coming from the smoggy glitz of Los Angeles, it seemed like a homespun haven from the city life.

On this latest trip, we stayed in a hotel so we didn't have to drive home after the party.  It was a nice hotel in a good area. Sadly, when we woke up in the morning and took our luggage out to the truck, we discovered the Range Rover parked next to us had been broken into and had its rear window smashed in.  And at that moment all the reasons we left the Valley became quite clear again.  Our move was as much about socio-economics as anything else, and when we saw the Range Rover with the broken glass all around it we remembered that.  

Fresno may have a couple of really good shopping malls, a Whole Foods and an extremely lovely area in the middle of the city called Old Fig, but drive three blocks away from any of those places and you will see poverty and desolation. The same goes for any town in the Valley, and the desolation is continuing its creep towards all the nicer areas.  Even out in the country, there are home-invasion robberies, ag theft, discarded refrigerators, sofas, and even the occasional stolen-and-burned car sitting alongside the road with the litter and old beer bottles.  That's what, in truth, lies in between the bucolic little farmhouses, the small towns, and the orchards and fields.  And they are all increasing in number and proximity to the more unspoiled and/or well-cared for places.  It's frustrating to watch.

It's not a class thing.  It's a pride thing.  People who value the area where they live tend to take care of it, and unfortunately there's just too many people around there who do not care, for whatever reason.  There are caring, genuinely involved people who have set down footholds and whose families have lived in the Central Valley for generations, but they are outnumbered at this point by the ones who simply don't care. And when that happens, anyplace, even the nicest area can become unlivable.  I am still glad we left, and I love where we live now, but I will always feel a connection to and feel worried about the future of places like Fresno, Hanford and the like.

And no matter what, I was extremely glad to see this upon returning to our little house on the hill.