I moved to Lake Elsinore in 1992 when my first child was only a few months old. I was in my early 20's and we originally moved here solely for the reason that we were able to find a two bedroom apartment on Joy st (more about that street later) for $400.
But before long I fell in love with this place. Head over heels kind of love... I fell in love with the people, the buildings, the lake, the mountains, the roads, the fields, and the unique character that syrups over all of it. There are both good, bad, beautiful and ugly things to be found here, but if you open your heart a little all of it is definitely interesting.
I had felt a connection with Lake Elsinore since the day we first moved here, but then in the mid 1990's I was fortunate to be chosen to write for the local newspaper, the now defunct "Lake Elsinore Sun Tribune". I wrote a monthly column about Lake Elsinore and on that road I was able to meet many amazing people who made this their home. That was one of the best times of my life and I will be forever grateful to the wonderful people at the paper who gave me the opportunity to not only write, but to really explore this little city.
I learned very quickly that every place and every person has a story that is worth listening to, and that appearances truly can be deceiving. I have spent the last few years raising my children and cleaning up cat and dog hair (and an occasional feather), but writing about Lake Elsinore again was always something I longed to do. So here I am again, hoping to show everyone who cares to listen that the mystery and magic of Lake Elsinore is worth exploring.
Plenty of people love to complain about Lake Elsinore, and have given it some not so nice (but albeit clever) names. I, however, are not one of them. I have been to every state in the United States, and have wandered lazily through several other countries, but there is something about the very land itself here that is special. It pulls you in and surrounds you with its breath of wildflowers, its vision of a real living body of water, its sounds of planes, boats, motorcycles, children, music, birds, and a lapping of the water at the webbed feet of a flock of pelicans that never cease to return every year.
Even though I have watched the population grow through the years and much building in once vacant spaces, this is still a wild place. No matter what they build or tear down, I have a feeling it will always have a wildness about it. A wildness that will weave itself into your life and your soul and make you feel part of something beautiful.
Many people drive through here every day on their way to somewhere else. When I see their stressed faces through the glass of their windshields, as they finally reach Grand ave from the Ortega, I wish I could tell them to stop and stay for awhile. I think to myself...
"Get out of your car and go down to the lake! Roll up your pants that you bought at some closed in mall, take off your Italian loafers, and go down to the water. Pretend you are seven years old again and wade out into the coolness and look across the ripples. Let the breeze blow away your fears of that bill you know is in your mailbox, let the birds delight your eyes and make you forget your taxes, and peer into the hills beyond and see the past.
The history of this city, with its 121 years of ups and downs and twirls, and events and people and buildings, some still standing and some long gone. And as you stand in the cool water with the sand between your toes, remember your own history. Remember when you were a child without a care in the world and you could swim and run all day in the sun. Go there for just a little while today and remember what it was like to find immense joy and gentle peace without gadgets, or video games, or the internet, or whatever it is you fill your moments with to distraction.
Remember that book, 'Where the Wild Things Are'? Well, that is where you are at my friend. Let the wind blow sand into your hair, feed the goofy ducks that complain nearby, jump into the water and float on your back, then close your eyes and just feel. I know you are busy, but once in awhile it is ok to stop... It is ok to stop and forget about your worries and disappear into the misty realms of yesterday. And what better place to do that than standing on the shore of the only natural lake in Southern California where the real things of this world, such as birds, water, fish, sand, wind, hills, grass, and flowers, can overcome the false reality of bills, commutes, taxes, unemployment, 401ks, and the red circle of death on your Xbox?"
Thank you all for reading, and I hope to update this blog daily. Not only to share my adoration of this place with anyone who cares to read it, but also to remind myself that death and taxes are not the only sure things in this life. There is another. And that is that beauty and even adventure can be found in almost anything. It is up to our own heart to see beyond our eyes and fears, and go past those false veils to where the wild things are...
Monday, May 4, 2009
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Regarding the recall: I've heard that Tom Buckley hasn't worked a day since he was fired by the Press-Enterprise over 10 years ago. Just how does he support himself?
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