white noise

I get to visit Lone Pine this June to spend time with Laurel and Yana (YAY all three of us together in the same state for more than 10 minutes!), visit old haunts, see my family, and maybe even ride Sierra one more time. I haven’t been “home” in almost 9 years. We stopped in Olancha once to pick Chelsea up on the way to Disneyland; I think that was in 1999, but I haven’t been there since. I’ve missed the high desert terribly even though I’m happy to do without the small town living.

I’ve seen recent pictures of Lone Pine on Wikipedia … it doesn’t seem much has changed, although I noticed Mt. Whitney is no longer 14,496 feet tall. It has grown. The AM/PM Mini Market is now a Mobil gas, but the familiar landmarks — the Dow Villa, Joseph’s Bi-Rite Market, and the Merry-Go-Round — are still intact. From those pictures, too, it seems Lone Pine still has only the one stop light at Main Street and Whitney Portal Road.

How wicked nostalgia can be.

I can feel the summer heat on my arms and even hear the wind blowing across Owen’s dry lake. I remember an after school water-balloon fight we had the summer I turned 15. I begged Johnny Bartlett to let me cross the street before he launched the pumpkin-sized balloon he held aimed at me. I’d never dreamed a water-balloon could be quite that large. Johnny taunted me with it the whole time, but kept his word as I slunk by with both hands out to prove I was unarmed. The balloon sounded like a miniature tsunami when it exploded on the sidewalk and soaked my legs from knees to feet. I squealed and tried to run, but my feet squished and slid all over their flipflops, making my escape little more than comic relief.

I think Eric or Steve A. tagged me in the back as I tried to cross the next intersection.

Someone alerted the local posse. It seemed the patrons of Joseph’s and the video store didn’t appreciate our water war. I don’t recall hitting any unarmed civilians, but my aim has never been that good. It was a good battle though, before it ended. We had at least 15 participants and the sidewalks on both sides of Main Street from the high school to the park were covered for the following week in colorful bits of broken balloon to commemorate our victories and defeats. We had a food fight of equal proportions during my senior year and that time the sidewalks were stained in mustard, catsup, and blue cake frosting. Come to think of it, so was I.

I can’t imagine what visiting will be like this year. Will it be like seeing an old friend, or will I feel distant and aloof, so far removed from those days and my memories? I don’t know. What I do know, though, is that it was a good place to be young.