"You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time — back home to the escapes of Time and Memory." - Thomas Wolfe
I find myself in a strange, even uncomfortable place as I near the end of my journey. I have been "home" to Michigan (1948-1975 & 2000-2006) with no discomfort. I have seen family in new and old places and many friends in towns and cities throughout the country, all with relative ease and comfort. But as I approach Los Angeles my home for many years (1975-1991), I find it unwelcoming.
It's like a new pair of wool suit pants. Nothing feels right, movement is irritating and you really don't want to sit down. In fact, all you want to do is get away from the discomfort and move on. That, of course, was not my feel of L.A. when I lived there or I never would have stayed so long. The last several times I was in Hermosa, Redondo and Manhattan beaches I was just as uneasy. Maybe there is some truth to this "you can't go home again" stuff. Some places are best left in the past to hold memories but not to be revisited, resurrected or unearthed. Methinks the great L.A. basin is one of those places for me.
So I am going to make a quick pass through, grab a meal or two with old friends and get out of town and back up north where the temperatures are cooler and the earth for me, much warmer.
