I grew up in a small coastal town just south of Los Angeles, called Palos Verdes. We moved to Palos Verdes from La Canada in 1971 to escape the smog. My parents bought Fred Astaire's sons' home overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The floors were covered in wax and everyone used to joke that Fred had spent his days dancing there. I went to Palos Verdes High School - which was across the street from the cliffs - a favorite place to hang out for many years. The cliffs represented everything that was a little bit wild in PV - surfers, surfer chicks, drop outs and stoners.
Ah.....the cliffs. This past week we went home for a few days and spent a good amount of time at the cliffs. I didn't see any of the old remnants of the past but it was a real eye opener to see the cliffs again. Beautiful jagged edge rocks with crystal clear water below. Across the street from the cliffs were all sorts of new, over-the-top homes being built. The athelete's homes - my dad said. That made sense - who wouldn't want to grow up across the street from these cliffs? It's funny how you can spend so much time in such a beautiful place and not recognize it till much later in life. Going home does that I guess - makes you want to go back to being 15 years old again.