Headin' Home

We hit the I-5 North at 7am hoping to avoid the worst of the Labor Day traffic. Despite the fact that this is a long, boring and oft traveled road, it looked a lot better first thing in the morning before the heat haze and smog had a chance to gather and hover.

The Grapevine, a long pass over the mountains was fast and uncrowded. I remember driving the old road over these same mountains as a child with my father at the wheel. It was still the Grapevine, and much more deserving of the name than the new multi-lane highway. It was steep and windy, and cars were much more likely to overheat or give up the ghost in some other way, leaving passengers stranded by the side of the road in the shimmering heat. These trips were also undertaken very early in the morning, due to the fact that cars did not have air-conditioning, and often carried burlap bags of water hanging from the bumper. There was a palpable aura of tension in the car until we made it safely over to Bakersfield.

In these times of water shortages, there are signs by the road saying "Congress created dust bowl" and once flourishing almond orchards are fields of dead skeleton trees. The only moving things are the pumps in the oilfields around Bakersfield which look like giant grasshoppers pumping oil out of the ground.

As we crossed over the Altamont Pass into the Bay Area, I caught a picture of but a few of the serried ranks of windmills which march over the hills as far as the eye can see. Most of them were put up during the '70's, stood still and useless during the '80's and 90's, but are now turning again as alternative forms of energy have gained the attention of Washington once again. I do remember reading years ago that the few people who chose to build homes out in these hills were driven out by the noise of thousands of turning blades, and the raptors who sought perches on them were in mortal danger.

Home at last, we braved the only open grocery store, packed with returning students poring over grocery lists or standing motioness in small groups in the center of the crowded aisles texting. A man in a wheelchair had to rely on the kindness of strangers (which was in short supply among the clueless students) to reach things on the shelves for him. Very few among the hoards of people in there seemed capable of buying some groceries without phone, or "device" as my friend Raymond insists on calling them, requiring their undivided attention. Those desiring hot dogs, hamburgers, buns, chips and beer must have already been there as none of these things were left on the rapidly emptying shelves....We'll make do with an omelet.