Back from California

It’s a grand place, really.   Americans have loved California for generations, and it shows.  San Diego, my principal destination this time, is shiny, massive, unmoored from most traditions except the tradition of the US Navy.  The Midway is parked in front, and Saturday morning the venerable aircraft carrier was swarming with Girl Scouts.   As American as you can get.

Which is one of the ways in which this neo-secessionist movement is so sad.  Its proponents in the so-called “red” states*  think of California and New York and Massachusetts as un-American havens for welfare and disability cheats and freeloaders.  But they should go see the Midway.  There it is in California, manned by greatest-generationers who seem to love their volunteer gig. Not a bum or a panhandler in sight.  Un-American?  Please.

There are homeless people in downtown San Diego, in their sleeping bags, pushing their carts, hanging out in twos and threes with their scrawny but evidently well-loved dogs.  They aren’t in the least aggressive, and they obviously aren’t stupid -  if I were ever to find myself on the street, out of choice or necessity, I’d think San Diego was a pretty fair place to camp.   No wonder the Okies headed there.

It's a wonderful mix, homeless and Girl Scouts and folks in bars and babes in limos and families walking along the waterfront.  Walking back from the Midway, a big graduation ceremony for Phoenix University.  It isn’t blue, or purple, any more than it’s red or green or black or white.   It’s California, and if it’s any color it’s still gold, plus plenty of red, white, and blue.

* I’m sorry, I still think that the notion of “red” as a symbol for American conservatives is  an ignorant joke.

** I have no idea why this post is framed on white but I can't figure out how to undo and I'm sick of trying.  They're just words.