The movie, "It's a Wonderful Life" is on this evening. It reminds me of the Santa Rosa of old, where everyone knew each other, helped each other and stopped to chat on the street. We knew each other's families, troubles, hopes and dreams. So many transplants are here now, and I, like George Bailey still have not left. Every time I have tried to leave something happens to pull me back.
Every now and then I get a glimpse of the Santa Rosa old .... at some symphony fund raiser ... or a funeral ... or a winning football game with Cardinal Newman. But then we mavericks of old quietly slip back into our busy lives and Santa Rosa becomes the place where strangers walk the streets never looking at one another.
The blonde summer fields of straw and majestic Oak trees are being traded in for vineyards and yuppie estates. People come here to talk of wine while the rest of us roll our eyes and remember the great Italian cattle ranches of yesterday. I guess there are some newbies who feel the sight of never ending vineyards is a beautiful thing, but those of us born here remember the farms, country barns and rolling hills that looked like clinched fingers.
The traffic sits more like long parking lots, rather than moving vehicles. All the roads paved to nowhere have changed the landscape as well. I remember when we could leave lunch during high school, speed to this hamburger stand on 4th Street downtown and then race back to school completing the whole run in 30 minutes. That same stunt would take an easy hour and fifteen minutes now. No one in any hamburger stand will call you by name, prepare your food the way you like it or talk in a way you clearly understand.
Antique ornaments hang from my Christmas tree, framed by the living room window, encircled by tiny blue lights. It looks like Christmas from 1950, and I love it. The hand stitched stockings hang from the fireplace mantle where soft candles twinkle in the soft winter light. I may not be able to see the Santa Rosa of yesterday when I step outside my door, but I can recreate it every Christmas within the tiny walls of this little place we call home.
The Building and Loan in "It's a Wonderful Life" reminds me of the old Santa Rosa Savings and Loan with its dark wood floors, walls and iron gates at the teller windows. Mr. Stone would always be at his sprawling office in the back reading over the Press Democrat. Ladies wore hats and gloves to go shopping and Pepper, the town character directed traffic. The windows of the department stores downtown were box windows which protrude out on to the sidewalk, forcing passers by to stop and stare at the treasures displayed inside.
My ex husband turned out to be the final reason that I remain living here. When we met I was working in the financial district of San Francisco and looking for a studio apartment to rent in SF or the south bay. I was staying with a friend in Tiburon when we made that fateful drive north to have dinner at Porifinos. The Santa Rosa rugby club was drinking in the bar. My ex was a Prop ... and the rest, as they say, "is history".
Now I stay for Brian and write about a single mother's life. I am trying to do the right thing and show Brian that if you hold out long enough for the right things, stand your ground and tough your way through, the rewards will eventually find their way to you. There is no way to gage how this will all turn out, but each time I chose Brian over instant gratification or a silly short cut - I am the better person for it. I can't imagine a greater satisfaction than the feeling I get with the sacrifices I make for him.
Just every now and then the words of George Bailey rattle around in my head, "I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then, I'm comin' back here to go to college and see what they know. And then I'm gonna build things. I'm gonna build airfields, I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I'm gonna build bridges a mile long..."
Until next time-
C
