In 2000 my wife and I got away for a short vacation to a beach city along the coast of Southern California. This is where we were both born, were raised, married, educated, gave birth to four of our five children, buried our dear sweet parents, and then finally left for journeys across and around the world.
One of those journeys took us to Santiago, Chile. We lived there for three years. Toward the end of our stay we had a wonderful opportunity waiting for us back in Southern California. Like birds returning to Capistrano, the pull to our beautiful homeland was great.
And then we accepted a much less attractive offer in Salt Lake City. For one whose roots run exclusively along the mildest beach climate in the world, accepting an offer to live in the Rockies where water has to be managed expertly, is plain strange. But life is strange isn’t it.
I want to explore two theories why this happened.
The first one is that no place on earth is perfect, not even Southern California. Namely, you go one to two miles inland from the beautiful ocean and you meet up with choked filled traffic. Hence, moving to Salt Lake City where traffic is very manageable is a bargain. So, we probably moved to the upper avenues of Salt Lake City where everything meaningful to us is five minutes away. That’s not so strange.
My next theory is that if I put together a certain set of facts, I can make the case that I’m a bit strange. Strange as it is to say that about myself, I think there’s something to it. For example, my decisions on where to go or live have a pattern of unpredictability to them. Added to that, there is the gambler’s touch to it: I roll the dice. I take chances that are on the surface out of my lane. They surprise people. And most of all, in the beginning they surprise me. But, this much I’ve learned, I end up happy wherever I land. You make life work. In Kenny Chesney’s lyrics, Happy is as happy does.
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