It’s funny how you don’t realize what an impact a certain place has in your life until you visit it and an overwhelming sensation overcomes you at the mere sight of the place. Yesterday I was on my way to Monterey for a teaching seminar. As I was headed toward Monterey on Hwy 1, I saw the Pacific Ocean. Normally, the ocean brings a serene calmness over me. I love the ocean, yet I have seen it so many times that I don’t think much of it. I just enjoy the tranquility of the vast blueness. This time it was different. I saw the Pacific Ocean near Monterey and a thousand memories both happy and sad came crashing into me like the waves against cliffs.
My first memory was of a dear family friend named John Fong who lived in Capitola. My father and John were very good friends and liked to fish together. The ocean—particularly the ocean in that part of California—reminded me of John…of visiting him…of his friendship to the family…and off his passing. When we visited him at his house in Capitola, we would buy ice cream at a creamery down the hill and then hike up the stairs that seemed to go on forever to get back to his house. While walking back we would go down the street parallel to the ocean. This street was only for pedestrians. The strength of the waves against the cliffs has eaten the road away over the years. Each time we visited the road it seemed more of it was gone. We would talk of the rebar and other preventions the city tried to take to stop the erosion and how nothing seemed to work. I’d like to go back and see what is left of it now.
I remember one time visiting John I was making flies for the fishing trip John and my dad would go on. I liked the pretty material used for the “tail” of the fly, so I remember using the whole pack on one. Instead of John yelling at me for using all of the expensive material, he chuckled and explained I needed to use about a 50th of what I did.
I was ten when we got the news that John had drowned after their small boat capsized in the ocean. This was a shock to the family not only because of John’s young age, but also because he was the best swimmer we knew. Every morning he would swim a mile or two at the Y. He had even taken my brother a time or two. How can a good swimmer drown just like that?
The news of John’s death hit my father the hardest. I remember him getting ready for his funeral and dressing in one of his finest suits. When his friends arrived to take him, he just couldn’t go. He said it would be too hard for him to handle. I could see the torment in his eyes because of his internal conflict. He knew how important it was to go, but the pain of going would be too much to handle.
My memories of John made my heart both heavy and light. As I drove further down HWY 1, I remembered my best friend—also my childhood dog—Vito. How I loved my Golden Retriever. The ocean reminded me of celebrating his first (or second) birthday with us—yes, my family is one of those families that celebrate their dog’s birthday as much, if not more, than a family member’s birthday. We decided to celebrate his birthday on the beach.
Dogs—especially Golden Retrievers—are supposed to love water, right? Well my dog was terrified of the water. He was so scared he would not even touch the wet sand. While, the other dogs at the beach, even the little ankle-biter-sized ones, were enjoying swimming, my dog stayed far away. I believe one of my parents stayed with him and then put him in the car because he was having none of it. I’m sure that seeing his family go near the blue beast of an ocean was scary enough for him.
Arriving in Monterey, I drove near the park my brother and I would play in before visiting the Monterey Aquarium. Known as the Dennis the Menace Park to others, it was known as heaven for my brother and me. From the Locomotive that would give you third degree burns if you put your hand on the hot metal too long, to the hedge maze, bridges, and swings, it was paradise. The only parks that came close to this park would be the crazy German parks on a military base where I worked. And even those don’t come close.
Being in Monterey made me think its beloved Monterey Bay Aquarium. My family would visit a few times a year and it would always be interesting. One of the first things we had to do was visit the orange jellyfish that were my mom’s favorite. Then we could never miss petting the sting rays and going out to the deck to see if we could see any otters floating on their back in the ocean or seals (or sea lions?) bathing on rocks. One year we heard about all the seals (or sea lions?) dying from something…I think some time of poisoning. Whether this poisoning was intentional or not, it really upset my family.
Monterey and that part of the Pacific Ocean is one of my favorite places on earth and I didn’t realize this until just yesterday. The rush of fond memories that washed over me made me see just how important this sea is.
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