Menu Close

Betrothal

To Fresno

 

There is no good time to drive out of the Bay Area on a weekday. This afternoon, well before rush hour, it took me as long to drive the 60 miles from SF to Tracy as it did to drive the 120 miles from Tracy to Fresno. Fortunately, this was (once I left Tracy) to be one of those trips where everything worked out the way it was supposed to, from arriving on the one night the history room at the library was open late to actually enjoying the company of the rather compelling stranger I was coming to meet…

 

And gas was $1.17/gallon. Did I mention that?

I gambled and won. The history room in the Fresno library just happens to be open late on Thusdays. The only downside was that the pre-1960 city directories are on microfilm. I hate microfilm. Microfilm is evil.

It was actually warmer in SF than in Fresno today. That’s a good sign…

The Day That Changed Everything

I kept the room today for a home base and potential nap spot (thanks to a coupon from my mom) as I wandered about visiting thrift stores, taking pictures, and looking for ghosts of supermarkets past. There was no nap and there weren’t many pictures, but I was pleased with my day (and the cooler than average temperature) all the same.

It’s a little odd realizing that I’m in a city where the mayor is Bubba, by the way…

Tonight I met Mark at Club Fred. Even that was easy, as I stepped upto the bar to get a drink and he happened to be the guy in line ahead of me. We went to a low-key but pleasant enough Hallowe’en party for a while and then had a nice, big artery-clogging dinner at Denny’s before going back to Mark’s apartment so he could show me his iBook.

 

Eventually, I went back to the Motel 6, fantasizing that my second night in the same strange bed might result in more sleep than the first had. It didn’t.

Chicken Pie Omelettes, Finally…

 

Despite lack of sleep, I wasn’t feeling too miserable for breakfast with Mark at the Chicken Pie Shop this morining, something I’d been trying to do since my first visit way back in 1993. And it was indeed everything I’d dreamed it would be. In shades of green.

 

We walked around the Tower District for a while and I dumped all my stuff and my car at Mark’s. Then we toured Fresno. I’ve toured Fresno many times before, but it was extra fun (a) being in the passenger seat and (b) actually being with someone who lived there and knew exactly where to take me. We covered most of the strips and walked around downtown for while. And we didn’t go to the ninth-floor bar at some hotel whose name I’ve forgotten, because it was closed.

I got a prescription filled, as I cursed both the fact that it was five bucks cheaper at the Walgreens in Fresno and the fact that it causes me certain annoying physiological issues. We were amused (horrified?) by the singing James Brown doll. Then we went back to apartment for a while, before heading back out to the pizza place.

 

Afterward, we watched the South Park movie (sort of), avoided the Hallowe’en block party down the street, and eventually went to sleep. I actually slept pretty well, if not for quite long enough.

Sunday in Fresno

 

On Sunday morning, we spent a few hours trying to figure out what time it was, among other things. Then we had breakfast at a good Mexican place before driving around and taking even more pictures (many of which will be here at some unspecified point in the future).

 

Then it was time for me to make my obligatory stops by the cheap cigarette store, the cheap supermarket, and the cheap gas station, and to be on my way. I was home by 7:30 and only flipped off three people (all of them after I crossed I-680). I slept. It was good.

Funny, for my best Fresno visit ever, it doesn’t read very well. But I liked it anyway…

I’m Home

I’m home. All in all, I think it was the best weekend I’ve ever spent in Fresno, but that’s all I’m saying tonight because the sleep deprivation side effects are kicking in. Pictures, commentary and all that sort of thing tomorrow. Perhaps…

You may resume your email now. And I’ll resume answering it at my own pace…

And here we are…

Eight or nine years ago I had the opportunity to leave this country and emigrate to Canada. For a variety of reasons, I didn’t do it. In recent weeks, I’ve questioned that decision more than I ever really thought I would.

I don’t really think America is “more” racist or divided than we were a few years ago. We were always in pretty bad shape on that front. The current culture, fronted by a “leader” whose primary goal seems to be in to inflame these divisions, has just made them more apparent to more people, because it’s now more socially acceptable to openly display that bigotry, ignorance, disregard for democracy, and disdain for verifiable facts than it was before. It’s really scary and it’s really sad.

Call me an eternal optimist, but I still believe that it will eventually get better. I just think it’s going to take a lot longer for that to happen after the past few years. I’m less sure that I’m going to see it happen before my time on the planet is done. And I really don’t have any idea what to do about it in a world where reasonable discourse no longer seems an option, where scientific fact is ignored, where peaceful protesters are “unpatriotic traitors,” and where any reporting that questions the ruling regime is “fake news.”

I just have a feeling a lot more people are going to be speaking the language of the unheard in the near future, because a lot of people see it as the only way to make other people listen in this environment. They may be right. I’m not going to presume to make that call myself.

And yeah, I know these words are not really helpful either, but I had to get it off my chest anyway.