This is the view across the street from Sambo’s Restaurant at the Santa Barbara Harbor during sunrise. Wow.
Growing Up In West Covina, California
From about 1971 to 1980, my family lived here at 943 W. Herald Street in West Covina, California. My time living here represents some of the worst moments of my life, creating scars that would take many years to heal.
I entered 3rd grade here at Wescove Elementary School which was just three blocks away from our house up the street. Third grade was good, while by fourth grade, I had one teacher tell me I’d never be able to sing, and in my memory, she was vicious about it. Another teacher brought it to the attention of my parents that I had a crush on a girl by the name of Lorie Lofquist which only brought ridicule and made me embarrassed. One of my favorite songs during my elementary school years was Terry Jacks’s “Seasons In The Sun,” which usually made me cry when I’d think about my third love, Michelle Chrisman. My very first childhood crush was on a girl in second grade at Repetto Elementary in Monterey Park; her name was Patricia, though I’m not sure if it was my crush or her chasing me around and threatening to kiss me. I also bought my very first 45rpm 7″ single during these years; it was Jumpin’ Jack Flash by the Rolling Stones.
By the time I was going to middle school at Willowood, I was listening to Kiss, Cheap Trick, and Aerosmith. I learned to hate bullies, as by this time, I’d become the subject of violence. So not only was it violent at home, but it was increasingly so just being on campus and going to and from home. Back in the 1970s, when I lived here, it was a rare day to see the mountains.
This was Edgewood High School, Home of the Trojans, years before it became a middle school. I sometimes attended class here, but increasing boredom and the threat of growing violence made going to school an ugly task. As I wasn’t performing well here, my father would unleash fury on my ass and freedom to teach me a lesson. He, in effect, taught me to not only steal my report card, but I was smart enough to know that if only mine was missing, he’d have a clue, so I stole my five siblings’ report cards, too.
I learned what gangs were during high school as we had six of them at our school, four Hispanic and two African American. I found punk rock when I was 14 years old while hanging out at my local Barro’s Pizza just up the street from my house on California Avenue, which was also where I first got so high that the guy who got me stoned was afraid to let me go home. During this time, I met Jack LaLanne, who was opening a gym in the same plaza as Barro’s, and I met Eartha Kitt, who was on hand for the grand opening; Eartha played Catwoman on Batman. By 11th grade, I’d discovered PCP, acid, pills, and speed, while my first encounters with alcohol started when I was probably 13.
I never finished high school as after meeting a fellow punk rocker named Joanne Murchland, we were done going to school and were more interested in going to gigs, getting high, and hanging out in Hollywood. Somewhere at the end of 1977, I first heard the Sex Pistols “Never Mind The Bollocks” album in its entirety played on KROQ 106.7, which promptly got them taken off the air for a few days. Devo, the Clash, Black Flag, the Germs, X, Circle Jerks, Mad Society, Throbbing Gristle, and Cabaret Voltaire rounded out my increasing obsession with music.
Starting in my junior high years, I was taking myself to the movies to escape the perceived horror of how I was growing up. The first movie I remember seeing here without my dad was Monty Python and the Holy Grail. My father didn’t think their humor was appropriate for an 11-year-old, but all the kids I went to school with were talking about it, so I had to go. Later that year, I went and got terrified half a dozen times as I watched Jaws, and then in 1977, I stood in line countless times to watch Star Wars. Down the street, about a mile from here, was the Capri Theater, where I was introduced to B-movies and occasionally a bunch of bands that would play there.
To the left of the theater across the street was the West Covina Municipal Courts, where I’d sit in on various criminal cases. Next door to it was the police department where I’d considered becoming an Explorer, which was a youth program for the police department similar to ROTC. And in the same general area was the library where I spent a lot of time too. Adjacent to all of this was the West Covina Fashion Plaza, where I hung out a lot and would spend too much time between Tower Records and Licorice Pizza admiring record covers, learning about the Freak Brothers and Robert Crumb while wishing I had a black light and a velvet poster with glow in the dark tigers on it in my bedroom; my father would have killed me.
Re-entering California
I left Arizona in the dark and found myself in California two hours later. It would take me another 7 hours before reaching Santa Barbara, but with a stop at Mix Bowl for lunch and a mid-afternoon drive along the ocean, it wasn’t all that bad. Heck, compared to the sardines in the bus ahead of me, I’d say it was a great drive over.
Dusk
While the sunrises on the Pacific are gorgeous, Arizona sunsets are spectacular. Today was my one full day at home. I’m not looking forward to the 500-mile drive back across Arizona into California. You ask, why not fly? Phoenix to Santa Barbara is $465 and I still need transportation to and from the airports.
Re-entering Arizona
Attention: These posts following our coastal Christmas-thru-New-Year’s trip are named a bit specifically, that’s because when these were originally shared, they only had one photo each due to bandwidth limitations back in the day. Since that time, I’ve updated them to include images that relate to the details of each day.
I’ve been in California since December 10th, aside from a 12-hour run to drop Caroline at home between the 12th and 13th before I came right back. Now, after our short vacation together up the coast, we’re heading back to Arizona.
While the weather isn’t perfect, the rainbows are.
The weather follows us back across the California desert, but there’s only a tiny chance it will come with us all the way to Arizona.
I was wrong about the weather following us into Arizona. My return back to our home state will be brief. In just three days, come Wednesday, I’ll be driving back to Santa Barbara to check on Uncle Woody’s recovery. The plan right now is to only be there until the 12th so I can get back home for our 12th anniversary.
Seabreeze Cafe in Santa Cruz, California
Attention: These posts following our coastal Christmas-thru-New-Year’s trip are named a bit specifically, that’s because when these were originally shared, they only had one photo each due to bandwidth limitations back in the day. Since that time, I’ve updated them to include images that relate to the details of each day.
Wow, what a find – The Seabreeze Cafe in Santa Cruz, California, and they were open on New Year’s Day!!! We had originally stopped a few days ago on our way up the coast based on a tip from the cashier at Dharma’s Vegetarian Restaurant. This was Caroline’s plate: it is an oat and corn flour waffle topped with fresh pineapple, banana, kiwi, mango, yogurt, and a dusting of toasted macadamia and coconut with a hint of ginger. A great start to the new year and a future stop on our journeys up the Pacific coast.
It’s overcast and stormy, making us happy on one hand that we bailed out of the north as maybe they are taking the brunt of it, but then again, we could have had blue skies, which would have been a nice touch. What wasn’t nice was that we got a flat with a nail through the tire. There was no way I was going to drive on the spare all the way back to Phoenix, especially down Highway 1, which already offers a goodly amount of pucker value due to the narrow road that hugs the coast, er, um, I mean cliffs.
Barely visible on the right is the Bixby Bridge, and while it might be argued that the coast is less than stellar on overcast days, I’d like to offer that being able to see this amazing coast in any condition is a gift.
Clouds rising from the forest with redwoods hidden back there add to the beauty.
The waterfall is a part of the Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, but the greenish/brown turbid water must be from some nearby runoff as we’ve seen this waterfall before, and that tiny amount of water is certainly not what is discoloring the ocean.
Oh shit, landslide ahead. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I honestly and desperately wanted to turn around rather than face what might lie ahead. My mind is racing as to when half a mountain will just slide into the ocean, and with all this rain we’ve had in the last few days, I can easily see just that happening any minute.
And then it’s our turn to run the gauntlet, passing observers who are monitoring what’s going on above. Oh my god…are those rocks an indicator of a much larger fall that’s about to ensue? I’m not happy, though maybe I would have been more unhappy had I turned around and skipped the rest of the coast. Once we are out of the danger zone, I start to breathe again. Though I’m done taking photos for the day I just want to reach someplace dry without cliffsides that drop an infinity down to the furious ocean below.