I have lived in four distinct kinds of neighborhoods in San Diego. First there was the suburbs of Del Cerro, a great place to raise the kids. After the kids went out on their own and the dog died, it was off to the beach in Del Mar for my husband and I, and a cool condo looking out on the ocean. Years later, when I found myself alone I gravitated to the center of the Hillcrest/Mission Hills area where I could get an energy boost from the action all around me. Now I have found a perfect place where I need to be at this point in my life, submerged in the vitality and natural beauty of living right across the street from Balboa Park in Bankers Hill. I will surmerge myself in that vitality or so I thought! Here 's the dilemma. I live in a beautiful high rise on Sixth Avenue and my unit is all windows facing the park. It is a slice of heaven. Every morning I get up and look out from my many windows to a sight that conjures up a serious bout of self induced guilt.....movement, lots and lots of movement. At any time of day or night people are moving about in various athletic type of actions. Nearest and dearest to my heart are the walkers. I can do that, I know I can if I leave my house in a pair of sneakers and just cross the street for god's sake, just cross the street and MOVE. Then there are the bike riders. They seem like a happy lot, just pedaling away, watching the path for bumps or cracks or whatever bike riders watch for. I rode a bike when I was young. I think I could still do that. Isn't there an expression, "it's easy, it's like riding a bike again"? Can't I just do it. Running?- my knees are too old...Skateboarding? - nah! Aha, I know, how about the people in white, lawnbowling just off of Laurel Steet. That always fascinated me. I wanted to be one of them, so I I tried it. It's really fun and you get to dress in white. The only problem - I'm not very good and they are. So I'm still in that movement-less place. I'm still looking out my windows at the beauty and invitation of my park. I've got the shoes, I've got the hat, I've got the inspiration from all the people I can see. All I need is the momentum. The park is a treasure all laid out directly in front of me. And there are treasures in that treasure, museums and artists, a zoo and a botanical garden. There are trees to lean against, grassy knolls to lie on and a lot of water fountains to quench my thirst from so much "movement". When my grandkids visit we always walk across the street to the park and explore. It's their favorite thing to do. But it's not like I have to have them here for incentive....do I? That's it. I'm moving. Today is the day. I've just laced up my sneakers, put on my hat and I'm riding down the elevator to the door that takes me outside. I'm tired of watching. What's the good of living in this neighborhood, right across from a treasure if I only watch. Pirates don't watch, they take their treasure and enjoy it. Balboa Park is mine for the taking. Shiver me timbers...I'm walking to where X marks the spot.
I have lived in four distinct kinds of neighborhoods in San Diego. First there was the suburbs of Del Cerro, a great place to raise the kids. After the kids went out on their own and the dog died, it was off to the beach in Del Mar for my husband and I, and a cool condo looking out on the ocean. Years later, when I found myself alone I gravitated to the center of the Hillcrest/Mission Hills area where I could get an energy boost from the action all around me. Now I have found a perfect place where I need to be at this point in my life, submerged in the vitality and natural beauty of living right across the street from Balboa Park in Bankers Hill. I will surmerge myself in that vitality or so I thought! Here 's the dilemma. I live in a beautiful high rise on Sixth Avenue and my unit is all windows facing the park. It is a slice of heaven. Every morning I get up and look out from my many windows to a sight that conjures up a serious bout of self induced guilt.....movement, lots and lots of movement. At any time of day or night people are moving about in various athletic type of actions. Nearest and dearest to my heart are the walkers. I can do that, I know I can if I leave my house in a pair of sneakers and just cross the street for god's sake, just cross the street and MOVE. Then there are the bike riders. They seem like a happy lot, just pedaling away, watching the path for bumps or cracks or whatever bike riders watch for. I rode a bike when I was young. I think I could still do that. Isn't there an expression, "it's easy, it's like riding a bike again"? Can't I just do it. Running?- my knees are too old...Skateboarding? - nah! Aha, I know, how about the people in white, lawnbowling just off of Laurel Steet. That always fascinated me. I wanted to be one of them, so I I tried it. It's really fun and you get to dress in white. The only problem - I'm not very good and they are. So I'm still in that movement-less place. I'm still looking out my windows at the beauty and invitation of my park. I've got the shoes, I've got the hat, I've got the inspiration from all the people I can see. All I need is the momentum. The park is a treasure all laid out directly in front of me. And there are treasures in that treasure, museums and artists, a zoo and a botanical garden. There are trees to lean against, grassy knolls to lie on and a lot of water fountains to quench my thirst from so much "movement". When my grandkids visit we always walk across the street to the park and explore. It's their favorite thing to do. But it's not like I have to have them here for incentive....do I? That's it. I'm moving. Today is the day. I've just laced up my sneakers, put on my hat and I'm riding down the elevator to the door that takes me outside. I'm tired of watching. What's the good of living in this neighborhood, right across from a treasure if I only watch. Pirates don't watch, they take their treasure and enjoy it. Balboa Park is mine for the taking. Shiver me timbers...I'm walking to where X marks the spot.