California Anniversary

If you've been a long-time reader of my blog, you may recall that September is a month of anniversaries for me. September 9th marked my fourth year at the Getty Villa, September 24th is my wedding anniversary, and today--September 11th--is my California anniversary. Nine years ago today I signed the lease on my first L.A. apartment and began to build a life out west. It's been nearly a decade now, and I can say that most of that time for me was about trying to reconcile my Midwestern past with my West Coast present. (As discussed in my 2009 anniversary post.) Each year I try to reflect and see what--if any--new insights I've gained after one more year. At last, after nearly a decade, I think I can say I no longer feel like an Illinoisan in exile. Instead, after all this time, I feel more of a hybrid status--not quite fully here or there. No doubt the coming year and our move to a more suburban location outside of the strict urbanity of West L.A. will change things. Part of the reason L.A. has always chaffed at me a little is that I can never full reconcile myself to the fully urban lifestyle that comes with living in West L.A. The more I think about it, the more eager I am to get out of here. I think I will like it much better in the South Bay, but we'll see what I have to say about it next year!

A Week of Anniversaries

This has been a week of anniversaries for me.   Thursday marked my third year at the Villa, and today is my L.A. anniversary--eight years ago today I signed my first lease and moved into my apartment in West L.A.  It's difficult for me to believe I've lived in L.A. for eight years.  Maybe that's because in many ways it took a few years for me to adjust and feel comfortable in the city.  Even though I've been out here awhile it's only been in the past three years or so that I've felt I've really mastered L.A. and gotten used to it.  Usually on this day I reflect on how ending up in L.A. was probably the most unexpected event of my life thus far, but this year is different.  Because I'm about to become a parent, the thought on my mind this year is of how very different my son's early childhood is going to be from mine because he will be born, not in a small Midwestern town, but in one of the largest metropolises in the U.S.  Of course, in all of the important ways it will be the same--he'll grow up being loved and supported by his parents and family--but there is no doubt that a babyhood in Los Angeles, California is going to be a far different experience than one in Neoga, Illinois.  Now, I could choose to judge this city versus country issue as a good or a bad thing, but I prefer to simply see it for what it is:  Just one of many experiences that will make him into the unique individual that he will become.

Seven

Since 2001, this day has always inspired reflection. Reflection on the events of a day I know I will never be able to forget and how it changed our world, but for me it has also become a time of personal reflection. Quite unintentionally, September has become a month marking the anniversaries of some of the most defining days of my adult life. On September 11, 2002, I signed the lease on my first apartment in Los Angeles, and so it's a day I remember as the beginning of my time in L.A. On September 24, 2006, I married Eric. September 9, 2007 was my first day at the Getty, which in my mind marks a significant advance in my professional career. So, as you can see, for me this is a month of anniversaries.

A lot can happen in seven years. People always ask if I feel like a city girl now that I've been here for a few years. "Not really," is my usual response. I have gotten used to this city, but I don't think I'll ever reach a point where I feel attached or sentimental about it. Rather, in the last seven years I've become something else: Someone who is just as comfortable cruising up Sunset Boulevard as the four mile road back home. Someone who has taken many a VIP group of big city executives or celebrities through major museum exhibitions but knows just as well what it's like working on the line at Donnelley's. I'm glad I've acquired that versatility, but moving away from one's roots can make them harder to hang on to, and that can be a depressing reality. Over the last seven years I have given that idea a lot of thought, and ultimately have taken a lesson from one of my favorite novelists, Sharyn McCrumb, who is a self-described Cosmic Possum. What in the bloody blazes is that, you ask? As McCrumb puts it,

"The term, coined by Tennessee poet Jane Hicks, (Blood and Bone Remember: Poems from Appalachia, Jesse Stuart Foundation Press, 2005) refers to people of Southern mountain heritage who have acquired modern sophistication without losing touch with their regional origins." She continues, "For Cosmic Possums culture is not an either-or proposition. The trick is to move into the future without letting go of the past, because if you lose your cultural identity, you have nothing to sustain you in the modern rootless world which lurches from one ephemeral trend to another."

Now, I come from the plains of Illinois, not mountains of southern Appalachia, but the point is well-taken. Living in L.A. can be a very homogenizing experience if you let it. People in the city tend to look with disdain or condescension at any region of rural America, and it can be very tempting to simply make yourself into the image of whatever "ephemeral trend" is currently raging. But you can choose to take a different perspective. One good thing about being in a city full of people who are from somewhere else is that you learn to value, take pride in, and appreciate the gift of the past and your own story of "Back where I come from..." That is the outlook I've chosen to take, and based on the frequency with which I'm asked "You're not from around here, are you?" I must be getting it right.

So if--regionally speaking--I'm not exactly a Cosmic Possum, what am I? In 1980 (the year I was born) the schoolchildren of Illinois voted to make the whitetailed deer the state animal. The whitetailed deer does seem appropriate--it's certainly the animal you're most likely to see tripping over the roads and through the cornfields of my native Cumberland County.

...Yeah, that'll do--I'm a Cosmic Whitetail.

Rainy Days & Earthquakes

That long line of lights disappearing off into the distance is a southbound view of the 405 I captured while at the Getty Center this week. Fortunately the 405 isn't a part of my commute, so I didn't have to join that string of lights on my way home. From time to time I end up at the Center for meetings, and as you can see the view from the top of that travertine tower is pretty spectacular. It's been a rainy week. I enjoy rainy days at the Villa. We have so few of them, they feel more like a novelty than an inconvenience. Because ancient Roman villas were designed as summer homes, rain really effects our operations at the museum. When it rains school groups can't have lunch at the picnic tables, so they have to crowd back onto the buses to eat, and walking across the marble becomes treacherous. The Getty kindly provides umbrellas (mostly used for shielding visitors from the California sunshine), so that helps people keep dry in the gardens. As you can see from the images below, I spent some time walking around in the rain.

The school group lunch area was abandoned because of the rain.

I've heard from some of the local natives that changes in weather often happen before earthquakes. I have no idea if there's any truth to that idea, but we did have an earthquake Friday night--the second in a matter of weeks. In my time out here I've felt different kinds of earthquakes, but Friday night's event was different. When it first happened, I honestly thought the building had taken some kind of direct hit. Neither Eric nor I were completely sure of what we had felt until I consulted the website on recent earthquakes in Los Angeles (a website I'm visiting way too often these days). According to the USGS, it was a 3.4 earthquake centered in Marina del Rey, which is the closest we've been to an epicenter in the last couple of earthquakes. Disturbingly, several of my friends out here who remember the 1994 Northridge earthquake have commented that they don't remember having so many quakes this close together since that time.

I guess my time is up. Going on seven years now I've lived in southern California and not had any real experiences or concern with earthquakes. This week's quake makes the third significant one I've felt since last June. Maybe it will help if I stop sitting on my couch. Each time it's happened, I've been reclining on the couch, watching t.v. At this point I'm beginning to think of my couch as a kind of Richter scale. It's an older couch and the legs are a bit loosened on it, so any kind of movement sets it shuffling and swaying--sometimes I feel the shaking before Eric does, because my couch is more sensitive than his. Three times now I've felt nice and relaxed, resting on the couch after a busy day at work, when the earth has started to shake. You'd think one event would have knocked the sense of complacency in my safety right out of me, but no. We're not nearly as prepared as we should be for such an emergency. But I'll tell you what: The third time around you start to pay attention. As a former girl scout, I think it's time to implement the old motto, "Be prepared."

California Sunshine

I hope everyone had a happy Easter! Yesterday was an absolutely gorgeous day out here in SoCal. Naturally I was working (my schedule is Wed-Sun), but the sunshine outside kept me in high spirits. Since the day was so nice I took the kids on the family “Art Odyssey” tour out to the Villa herb garden to play the “herb garden game” instead of spending the time in the galleries. The kids really enjoyed running around the garden trying to find the herbs that were listed in the ancient Roman recipe I gave them. We gallery teachers also hid some brightly colored Easter eggs in one of our gardens. Inside were scavenger hunt clues people could use to track down a particular work of art in the galleries. I guess they did it last year and people really got a kick out of it.

In spite of the sunshine, I was happy to leave work and head to Eric’s parents’ house for Easter dinner. Eric, who specializes in cooking/roasting/grilling meat, had cooked a huge ham for dinner. As is always the case at a Wells family holiday meal, there was a TON of food. It was nice to hang out and chat for the evening and enjoy the weather. Eric is on his spring break this week, so I’m anticipating a spike in his video gaming hours (mercifully, happening mostly when I’m at work). This afternoon he played a few games of basketball with some of his fellow students and came limping home, tired but triumphant. His team won two of three games.

Today is the only day I have off until this weekend, so instead of running around doing chores like I usually do I went to a movie with a friend. We saw “Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day,” which we both really liked. Unfortunately this film is only being released in a limited number of theaters, so most of you who aren’t in L.A. probably aren’t near a theatre where it’s showing. But if you are, check it out! After the movie I treated myself to a leisurely trip to the bookstore and came out with a couple of new books I’m looking forward to reading. Most of the time I avoid the bookstore in favor of the library—I learned long ago that my reading habit far exceeds the capacity of my bookshelves, so the library is a great way to save coin and space—but today I felt like indulging the habit.

As is always the case with days off, today went much too quickly. Ah, well—there’s always this weekend!