Red Trucks

This afternoon, I put an Angels decal on the rear window of my red Silverado. I figured I would name this vehicle because several of my friends have named their cars. So I named it Kingfish, not after Huey Long (Though I am a fan of that Kingfish as well), but Tim Salmon. Part of the reason I bought it was because it was red, like the Angels. That's the one I've told most people.

I've also always liked red pick-ups because it's what my late grandfather drove. I never got to know Papa (Pronounced "Paw-paw" and not "Pop-uh") that well because he died when I was five-years-old. Because I was so young, I don't have many memories of him, but I remember sitting in his truck when he would pick me up from pre-school in Hopewell. I don't like raisins, but he'd alway make me raisin bread toast with apple butter, cut up into four squares. I love apple butter, and I think of my grandfather whenever I eat it. At least a quarter of the times I eat apple butter, I tell anyone that will listen about my post-pre-school snack.

My grandfather was in the Army. The marker where he is buried lists his service during World War II and the Korean War. He was stationed in Minnesota, Virginia, and Puerto Rico. I believe he retired as a Sergeant First Class.

I always wonder how differently my life would have been if I had a few more years to develop with him in my life. Unfortunately, he was a smoker and died from cancer, so I'll never know, but I think I get my appreciation for red trucks from him.

My First Outdoor Entry

I type this as I sit on the balcony of Karen’s apartment. Currently, “When the Land Belonged to God” by Jack Gladstone is playing in my ear and I spent the previous few minutes eating a sandwich and admiring the trees blowing in a slight breeze with the hills of the Conejo Valley in the distance. Southern California is a beautiful place. The other day it was drizzling, or as Karen tells me Californians might say, the other day was a catastrophic storm. Even on a slightly gloomy day, I found much of the area to be quite pretty.

I often like to think about where I would like to live. I like to think about where I would like to raise a family or retire. I never think about where I would like to be buried, though. I will be buried in Virginia, without question. I’ll be dead, so it doesn’t matter too much to me where in Virginia, just as long as it’s in the beautiful, sacred soil of my country. If my next of kin chooses cremation instead, the ashes better be spread behind home plate or in the outfield.

Back to living, as I do not plan on dying for at least another half-century. I often think about where I would like to live. For the most part, I do not find Southern California to be ideal for me. I would not mind living anywhere in the Los Angeles area, but there are only a few places where I would actively seek to plant myself. I would like to live in Orange County, somewhere near Angel Stadium, for reasons obvious to all who know me (See the previous paragraph’s closing sentence about cremation for a hint). The Topanga Canyon would also be a nice place, though I am told it is quite the hippy region. Even so, it’s pretty, rural, and still close to many attractions of the metropolitan area.

Where I would really enjoy living in the region is Santa Monica. I spent less than 24 hours there, but I was impressed by it. It had been ten months since I lost saw a beach, interestingly enough, it was my last visit to Virginia Beach, also with Karen. I much prefer rural areas to urban areas, but Santa Monica is different. It is a beach town. Santa Monica fits in with many of the other top locations on my “Where-to-Live List” for that reason. Walking along the street nearest the beach reminded me of walking along Atlantic Avenue in Virginia Beach. Walking along the pier reminded me of the boardwalks of different southern New Jersey beach towns (Yes, I would live in New Jersey, but only if my house is within two miles of the ocean.) It doesn’t compare to the number one city outside of the Virginia I would like to live, St. Augustine, Florida, but I enjoyed Santa Monica. I hope to go back to it soon.