Return to Pepper Grove

By Yvonne Sherman

Eucalyptus, pungent lemony and tall
Crest Live Oaks, fog loving, slender and resilient,
Mexican Palms hidden in a lush canyon of windy paths
fill acres of playground,

Anchored by the Moreton Bay Fig Tree,
the center of The Prado
ages old, yet young when seen for the first time.

Across the Cabrillo Bridge stands
The California Tower stately and elegant
The ancient chimes tugging my heart
like the surf along the ocean.

Balboa Park the cultural oasis
in this ever-changing city
San Diego – my home
Remains persistent, steadfast, and strong
In its mission of
bringing beauty, life and knowledge
in Museums of Art, History, Science, Industry.

I remember my life by landmarks;
Pepper Grove from childhood
filled with Peruvian Pepper Trees
With weepy foliage and cheerful rosy-red fruit,
ready for picnics and play.
Starlight Bowl with lights, music
dance and summer love.

Taking off the blinders of work and ambition
Life comes full circle enjoying all the charm of early days,
Keeping the hope that the future will hold such stalwart ideals.

The Dream of San Diego

By Jeff Armstrong

my San Diego is full
of lovers and dreamers
Calafia spirit of the Californias
blessed the land with
fair weather sunny days

the natives and the rest of us
are proud to call San Diego home
mountains deserts beaches
the best Mexican food
good neighbors good friends

dreamers push the boundaries
of research medicine technology
here in Barrio Logan
Día De Los Muertos reunites
the living and the dead

in Mission Beach it’s fish tacos
craft beer bikinis and boardwalk
in Paradise Hills a birthday party
serves Cabeza De Res simmering

the dream of San Diego
lies within her people

many struggle to make ends meet
it’s hard to pay bills without money
some live in ivory towers
they worry how to pay less tax
in Point Loma a homeless woman
suffers alongside the stately homes

people wait at the border
and dream of a better life
will they survive the journey
while in Clairemont Mesa
old tract homes now cost a million

here in my San Diego
dreams live if they aren’t forgotten
in Bay Park at a turquoise house
young people dare to dream
they talk about the future

a future that includes their dreams
whatever they might be —
dreams that make us feel
awake and alive
dreams that bring us to San Diego

At the Chula Vista Mall

By Claire Hsu Accomando

Walls painted mud.
Stores boarded up.
Escalators out-of-order.
Yellow police ribbons
across elevator doors.

Near the tunneled bathroom,
between two concrete columns,
a cluster of young teenagers.
Boys and girls, brown and blond
are bent over a mobile phone.

Music seeps from the device
balanced on an orange cone.
The group breaks into couples,
link hands, stretch one leg,
faces and arms pointing forward.

On the phantom platform,
the austere rise of a syncopated
rhythm from Argentina.
The audience? Four bridal gowns.
Behind the darkened glass they glow

lavender, white, pink, blue.
Their bouffant skirts wide enough
to hide a playground set of monkey
bars. The strapless bodices sequined
and bejeweled a la Disney Plus.

On a Sunday morning,
In a ghost shopping mall,
once filled with food smells
and echoing footsteps, brown
and blond kids dance the tango.

My California City

By Rodney L. Lowman

I fell in love with my city
like I did with my partner.
Walking out of the U.S. Grant Hotel
at the end of a conference, I decided
this was the city where I wanted to be,
where I had to be,
where I was meant to be.

Partner and friends found
the idea of moving there foolhardy.
You’ll feel poor, they opined.
We won’t be able to afford a house,
she proclaimed.
And what about the fires,
the quakes, the floods?

It’s not like we hadn’t thought of California
before but it always seemed
off limits—salaries too low
costs too high. Back then they still talked
about sunshine dollars—not now. Yet somehow it was
going to happen, that much I knew—
love, the great motivator.

Psychologists say we reach conclusions first
and justify them later. OK. But why San Diego?
It wasn’t for the sunshine—Phoenix is sunnier,
cheaper too. It wasn’t for easy living—
housing and fraught freeways saw to that.
It wasn’t even for the briny ocean, frigid even in the summer.
So, why?

It was old and it was new. There were smart, fit, curiously
humble people everywhere. And an excess of politeness.
But mostly it was because it looked West.
I never had patience for the South, hated the pugnacity
of the East, couldn’t stand the Midwest’s flatness.
San Diego looks West—for the present, to the future—
to the possible.

As with my partner
the love has lasted—
has grown.
When a city’s right for you,
you know it.