Actually, it was a wonderful place where to live. Beautiful countryside. Excellent horse-riding country (rolling hills dotted with oak trees...though I never rode when I was there). Even Los Angeles was un-intimidating (never worry about missing your exit, there was always another). That's where I learned to enjoy Mexican food and appreciate that every restaurant had its own salsa recipe. I had gotten so adapted to the road-based culture, I thought little of driving into Hollywood for an evening visit with friends and driving back. The only strange thing was the reaction of the locals to seeing a single cloud in the sky: like a portent of doom. (I came from Puget Sound, where if there were no clouds in the sky, you would wonder if you were on the correct planet.) The roadside gutters were frightening, being very deep for the infrequent massive downpours, feeding drains that could easily swallow a foundering child. The smell of eucalyptus trees was always in the air. To get off an airplane and smell that aroma would bring back a gust of memory.

What has happened to California since then is worse than a crime; it is a sin. And a curse.