They Pave Paradise, Put in a Parking Lot

 

Image from the Monterey Herald

An old song goes, "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.  They pave paradise, and put in a parking lot."  Many of us have this sentiment I am sure when it comes to places we loved or grew up in and that change with the passing of time.  It can be in a short span, a matter of days, but I think that most change happens over long periods - so slow that we barely notice it until it is too late.  So it was for me returning to Monterey California over Spring Break 2022.   

It's funny thinking back, because when I came there to go to college at the California State University at Monterey Bay I remember disliking the college.  I liked Monterey, I liked the weather and surroundings, especially when it came to literary history like Steinbeck and Robert Lewis Stevenson.  The University was an ugly dumpling in those days, just fresh popped in the oven and starting to rise.  It had only been open some seven years on the Fort Ord area, and there were still many old barracks and buildings that surrounded us.   The structures we were in were old converted variations of these painted in purple and green as they were the favorite hues of the university president's wife.  (I thought them ugly colors.)

There were no new buildings, the grounds were run down, and we were surrounded by ruins.  We were, in a sense, a desert island.

There was suspicion my first dorm has once been a prison, as it was square shaped with tiny little rooms off central spaces, and it had metal walkways and tall towers.  Next to us was a derelict ruin of barracks and the only path to get to the main campus and to food was a small sand path broken through some overgrown dunes.   At night and with the fog, it was like walking through a horror movie, surrounded by lichen strewn trees and only a distant light of the street in the fog.   I had a very rowdy surrounding, though I myself was quiet, and I remember hating that first and second year.  

My salvation was the surroundings as I said, and I would go into Monterey or Santa Cruz for sojourns.  Cannery Row was, in itself, built up a bit, with big buildings and hotels and tourist hot spots, but it was still just funky enough it almost felt like Steinbeck country still.  There were still the ruins of old canneries, the run down shops, and of course the Aquarium which I was a member as a student.  I remember being able to get in before anyone else, enjoy all the sights and then go get an ice cream at the Ghiradelli shop before going back to the rowdy dorm.

In junior and senior years I had a much better time with dorm and college class situations, I met some nice friends who I still talk to today.  The last year I had a room with an ocean view, a nice big space to myself.  To this day I don't think any college has a better ocean view or location for its students to take in their surroundings on the sea.  I don't think many others could boast the view I had as a humanities major. 

Once I graduated and moved away, I would make trips up there on occasion but after a time I stopped due to work and life circumstances.  I kept abreast of changes as enormous moneys poured into Cannery Row and CSUMB.  New Hotels were built, a new library, student complexes, etc.   I visited once and saw these and felt impressed at the time.  Many of my old haunts were still there in the shadows, and it still felt like home, and nostalgia painted sweeter colors over time of my experiences.  I could look back and laugh at those first two years and smile at the latter two.   Even now I think back to my last days there wishing they could last a bit longer.

It seems, however, nothing is to last, especially in the age of Covid.  Going to downtown Monterey I found that the Aquarium now packs in members with the public at the same time with long queues and online ticket sales.  The huge hotel next door where once was an empty lot now blots out all sun upon the street, and tacky shops have replaced all the old ones that I liked.  The same goes for the Fisherman's Wharf, where I found naught but tourist traps where once was one of my favorite places for clam chowder.

The University was immensely changed.  Repainted, all the old buildings gone.  The path from my former dorm is now grown over, gone, replaced by green.  Nothing remains of my time there, save memories and fragments.  The new structures offset the old ones with their wealth and grandeur, modern, sleek, clean - nice for the people there, but cold and stark.  There's no warmth, no living, just function and form.   

John Steinbeck said of Cannery Row in Monterey that it is a "... poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream."   So it is with it now, as it is with CSUMB.   It is nothing more than words on a page, a waxing light within my mind of days come - gone, paved over.  

The Sweetest Principals

 

My parents worked in education for over twenty years, as did their parents and grandparents before them.  There are words of wisdom from practical work they observed, of dealing with bureaucrats and the rank and file.  I've seen it myself that those who don't know anything often tell those who know all what to do. They're the ones in power, the ones who give the orders and we all salute and say "yessir" or "yess maam" then grumble to ourselves.   Why?  Because more often and not its the the best results are borne from opposing viewpoints, the best people to understand results are those who work the day-to-day jobs that no one else wants to do - not those borne from highborn bureaucrats and politicians.   Of course, that is just my view, but it brings to mind a story to back it up.  

When my Mom and Dad worked at High Schools in Los Angeles while my Grandfather, Bill, was superintendent, the lunch workers would make meals for both staff and students.   Most of us have horror stories about school cafeteria food, we imagine something flat and pasty on a plate with no taste.  This was not the case at this particular school.   Sure the lunch ladies had a particular set menu, they had a district approved set of standards and rules and measures to make food - they just ignored it because the food tasted awful if they used it.  Instead, they used their practical skill, years of dedication and simple common sense to make delicious food.

The way my Dad tells it, he remembers teachers lining up Wedsday mornings and the smell of fresh baked cinnamon rolls wafting down the hall.   Everyone wanted them because they were delicious, and they went fast.   Well, the powers that be got wind of this, and of course, they weren't happy that the lunch women were not following their exact prescribed recipes - so they brought their hammer down.   The result was night and day.  In an instant, the pastries lost all tase, the lines vanished and food was wasted.   That's where the story ends, but I wonder if the bean counter who made that decision patted themselves on the back after that.   Given my own experience working with school administration over 15 years, they more than likely wondered why no one was eating the food and never questioned they were the cause.

I look at school lunches every day given my work, and nine chances out of ten I think that kids and parents know better than the folks telling schools what to serve.   Sure, we want healthy kids, but of all the educational opportunities there's none when it comes to food and food waste.   Japan teaches it, we don't.   Those kids take part in making, serving, cleaning up and I would reason to think their food is never wasted.   Another bit of common sense, another opposing view.  

Common sense, Cinnamon Rolls are the Sweetest Principals.