Leaving LA

I  never thought I would leave Los Angeles. I saw myself growing old and one day dying in our little Torrance home of many years.

My youth was spent at the beach. Playing in the surf with nieces and nephews, swimming with dolphins, seeing whales and breathing that fine ocean mist. The expansive Pacific, so blue and serene. It was a such a good place to grow up under that golden So Cal sun.

But So Cal's easy weather beckons the masses. The CAFO housing, as I call it, popping up everywhere. Massive multi-unit dwellings that grow for blocks and blocks and reach for the sky. Too many residents for the existing infrastructure. The traffic doesn't move, no matter the time or day.

Legalize pot and the accidents on the freeways exceed logic. I could care less what people do with their time, but when we are all together on the roadways, chemical management has no business putting the rest at risk. The resulting horrific accidents that shut down freeways. What could have been a simple 40 minute drive now turns into hours stuck in hot vehicle exhaust and concrete as officials try to make sense of the accident scene.

Politicians think we can be taxed and bail out their wanton decisions. As the cost of living goes through the roof, the homeless camp everywhere. River beds, freeway underpasses, alleyways. You drive and see what appears to be a pile of trash and realize this is now how much of the population lives. We reduce the worth of life to a debris heap. Many are addicted, many are veterans, no one knows what to do with them. In many cases there is nothing one can do with a mind so far gone, fried from trauma and drugs.This is the world we made.

We had 2 shootings on our street. On the main street over from where our home was, someone took 3 bullets in the chest while waiting at the bus stop, another was winged. Our immediate neighbors were terrific and we were a strong band that was able to clear our neighborhood of the troublemakers, but such a "life" gets old very quickly.

At night, the mental assaults continued. Homeless vets in the middle of the night and in the middle of street, screaming over and over, "I am so f---ing scared". Cars honking, the screams fading into the night. Call the cops and no one comes. Most can't be talked to, a mind too far scarred from pain endured. Chemical managing of mental issues clearly isn't working, as any homeopath knows.Yet, it is all most reach for, what to do?

The worst was the 4th of July. These weren't fireworks any more folks, they were bombs. The war zone would start a month before and continue a month after. Repercussion from the blast making your head useless the next day. PTSD common, no, not a war zone, a celebration. The cops are out numbered, if a fire starts, calling 911 is no use. I know, I lived it. The following day, dead and injured animals litter the roadways, and the madness doesn't stop, next year it continues. That is why my goal was to leave by July 1, and so it was.The insanity of a nation so concerned with terrorism, it can't even stop a "celebration" that is domestic terrorism. This is why nature often needs to run "interventions" for the human race, perhaps then we take pause of our insane ways. Maybe...

It took Belle over a year to heal from her injury. Sustained as some workmen spooked her and she got caught in the fencing. My biggest fear was having her safely trailering to Tehachapi. She made the trip like a champ with her trusty paint friend Pinky.

The truck was piled with the remaining belongings, 3 dogs, 3 cats, 3 birds and Gene and I.  I have never felt such peace and tranquility as I do here.

The place took over a year to clean up. The prior folks left a mess. But to see the place now is quite a joy. Visitors all marvel at the mountain views, the beautiful spring blooms and all that is coming together here.

I wish everyone the incredible peace I feel here all year long! A year later, I am home.