I was watching a video this morning. In it, a still young ex-navy sailor headed from Venice to San Diego and the naval air station North Island. As he crossed the bay bridge from San Diego to Coronado I started thinking about those days living there.
The air station at North Island where I worked has changed so much it was hardly recognizable. It looks all modern and very nice, while gone are the radar planes, the flying boats that I loved seeing, now there seems to be nothing but a sea of helicopters.
Joyce and I talked about the 3 times we lived in California in the sixties and seventies and eighties. In the sixties we were oh so young and life was such a dream, little in the way of responsibilities and great on fun times. In the early seventies we lived on Coronado and walked on the beach every day until I got out of the navy and we moved back to Missouri. In the late seventies we moved back to California and again settled on Coronado for a short time. It was still a wonderful place to live, although it started to get crowded with the bay bridge making access so fast and easy. In the old days with the ferry boat shuttling back and forth across the bay less people would spend the time to go to Coronado.
There is no way to step into the same river twice. The river is always changing and so it is with everything I know of in life, including Coronado and San Diego. It was different in the sixties, and both times in the seventies and eighties and I am sure it has changed ever more by now. So while I have no desire to go back there anymore, I will still be California dreaming of those days long ago for the rest of my days.
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