#Wheatland peach

[thebotanicalarcade]

n484_w1150 by Biodiversity Heritage Library Via Flickr: The peaches of New York,. Albany,J. B. Lyon Company, printers,1917.. biodiversitylibrary.org/page/6593890

[californiaroadtoad]

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A few months ago, I purchased a bike from the Nexus of Evil, (AKA:  WalMart), and I’ve been trying to ride regularly.  Since today was one of the first days we’ve had that wasn’t triple digits, it seemed to me this was the best time to head out and ride. 

Now, I should point out, I used to be an avid bicyclist, even if the most advanced bike I ever had only had three speeds.  (My parents, overly controlling, demanding, abusive, insisted I didn’t need any more than that, even though the evidence showed the exact opposite.)  As an Army Brat, I used to ride all around Frankfurt, Germany, enjoying the sights of a city far older than my home country, and tolerating Hessian motorists wagging fingers in my direction at damned near every turn.  It was great, I was free, and Life, as I knew it, could be good.

As it happens, I finally moved as close to home as I could manage.  My hometown, Wheatland, CA, had some homes for sale, but they were all out of my price range.  (I’m sure many of you know Wheatland:  Come for the speed trap, stay for Traffic Court.)   But, that didn’t stop us, and we settled into a home in Yuba City, my birthplace.  This, of course, is the Yuba City that was listed as being “The Worst City in the USA,” based entirely on suspect methodology, but that didn’t stop some East Coast Tool from declaring it, even through no one from that organization had ever been here.  (My Grandfather, who at the time owned Dower’s Tavern, decided to make hay while the sun shone, and stuck a sign in front declaring that Dower’s Tavern was “The Best Bar in the Worst City in the USA.”  Folks around here were not amused, and I should point out that this sort of thing is funny once.  Only once.)

So, we’ve been here for about four years now.  Our initial plan of living here for a while, then moving to a home in Wheatland has long since died, partly due to the Trucking industry trying to pay us as little as possible, (yes, I’m a trucker), and partly due to the flippers and their wannabe acolytes driving up the market into the same sort of territory we saw in 2007.  At best, I can wait for the foreclosures, and maybe we’ll find something worth spending the money on.  It’s a mess, no matter how you look at it, and with an Assembly hell bent on keeping us broke, the State of California is turning feral. 

I should have taken my oldest son’s advice, and moved to Idaho, but with Idaho real estate prices where they are, that ship sailed a long time ago.

So, this morning, I rode down Queens as far as I could, looped around, took Onstott Road north, crossed Highway 99, riding through neighborhoods that simply didn’t exist when I was born.  By the time I was 20, a few homes existed, and by the time I hit my 40′s, that part of Yuba City had become the ‘Burbs.  Farmland was now Suburban Sprawl, and if you wait a few more years, we’ll have our very own McMansions to sneer at. 

Anyway, I rode around, and still after four years, I’m still getting acclimated to this being home.  My Grandparents were farmers near Wheatland, growing walnuts and peaches, and to tell you the truth, I was proud of that.  I can remember the few times we were allowed to be around them, riding with my Grandmother to the various businesses my family dealt with.  It was a bit of surprise that many of these were still around, including Sutter Orchard Supply, particularly as the State wants to destroy agriculture any way it can.  I’ve been riding around, looking for something I can’t identify, and I wish like hell I could. 

That’s life.  Or life as I know it.

I spent an ungodly amount of time living in Sacramento.  Bicycle riding there was out of the question for the most part:  in Yuba City, you’re a rider; in Sacramento County, you’re a target.  The pace here is slower, and around here, when you call the cops, they actually respond.  You’re treated like a human being as opposed to a statistic.  That’s one thing that hasn’t changed in over 60 years, so I’m happy with that.

At the same time, other things have changed.  Roughly around the time I was born, my neighborhood was working class, white, and most folks worked at Beale Air Force Base.  These days, a lot of these homes are being sold to young professionals.  My neighbors are largely Sikh, Muslim, (primarily from places like Pakistan, Ethiopia, and Saudi Arabia), Mexican, Hispanic, and others.  Like I said, I was an Army Brat.  This is nothing new to me, so we’ve settled in when it comes to that part of it.  Our only difficulty is the younger folks who live next door, who complain about the smell from our chickens, ducks, and goose.  (Yes, in Yuba City, you can keep a few of them.  We know this:  Code Enforcement came by, shrugged, and said have a nice day.)  The older folks next door are cool, and we share eggs with our neighbors when we have an abundance. 

Other changes have taken place.  A lot of folks work from home now, due to COVID 19, (BTW:  Get your ass vaccinated, dammit!)  A lot of the businesses I knew about have closed up, or moved, or are doing something else.  I have some extremely vague memories of the Marysville Hotel being open, though I’m not sure I trust them.  I do remember seeing Mary Poppins at the State Theater in Marysville, though the last movie shown there was Phenomenon, and the only reason I know that is someone left the poster in its case ages ago.  (It’s been gone for some time, along with John Travolta’s talent.)  Things have changed, though whether it’s for the better or worse, someone else needs to tell us.  My gaps in my presence here keep me from saying one way or another. 

I’ve talked to relatives who remained for a while before moving on.  I’m told that KUBA Radio has its studios along Highway 99.  (No, they moved ages ago.  They’re now on Sanborn.)  I’m told that NuGeneration Lanes is where you can go bowling around here.  (They permanently closed years ago.)  That sort of thing.  I mention to these folks the changes, and I’m told I’m a liar.  (I guess they never bothered to check the Internet.)  Whether or not I’m disappointed is irrelevant:  change comes, whether we want it or not.

It’s a fool’s errand to think things won’t change over time.  And for over 60 years?  Yeah, that was inevitable. 

So, here we are.  My wife and I are in the process of making Yuba City our home.  It’s coming; it’s slow, but it’s coming. 

That said, we’ll make it through.  Who knows?  We might get the offer of the century, and we get to move to Idaho.  Or we might stay here.  Either way, we’ll make it work. 

(I should point out, though, one thing hasn’t changed at all:  Sunsweet is still here, as they have been for over 100 years.  Still haven’t done anything about those nasty wrinkles, though.)

https://youtu.be/7lpytcTqaAs