In the 80s I wrote a weekly column for the local paper. I know, that whole sentence that reeks of nostalgic and
ancient terms: 1980, newspaper, column. Think of it as an early blog. Only with more readers. For Throwback Thursday I thought you’d enjoy a taste of the past. I don’t know how much I enjoy reading over my old material, but it’s interesting to learn how little things really change. Comment if you agree or disagree, then dig out your scrunchie and try on the 80s for a minute.
The suburbs are great for raising kids, and boring for raising adults. Even in the midst of small children, I both longed for the culture and stimulation of city life, yet loved the convenient Safeway parking lot. This conflict never really resolved itself. I loved every city I traveled to (okay, maybe not Cairo so much, but I loved Luxor). But I did not have to carry my groceries up five flights of stairs to my adorable apartment with interesting views and indifferent electricity. I loved the noise and action of the city at night, but I didn’t need to get up for an early meeting the next day.
One of those suburban children lives in a small town in the Sierra Foothills and longs for acres of land for his multitude of animals. The other lives in Kirkland, two blocks from a Starbucks.
My husband and I spilt the difference and bought a house in a small, but lively town that has most of the culture, bars and restaurants of the big city without the stress.
Almost perfect. Isn’t that what we long for, really?
My friend “Frank” still lives in San Francisco. And I still visit because I have season tickets to the ballet. I don’t know why I called him Frank. His name is Lester.
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The theme is, Catharine Bramkamp, thank god there is only one of me