Two decent public high schools, a one street downtown featuring a
drive-through dairy, and a decent sized shopping mall is pretty much all what
Pleasanton consists of. Growing up I could walk down any street, at any time,
at any age, and feel perfectly safe. You can’t leave your house without running
into someone you know. Everyone knows everything about everyone.
Most of my childhood friends couldn’t wait to get out of this
boring town and vowed to “never end up like our parents.” I agreed with them
until I moved to Los Angeles for school. There are just some things about my
town that a big city can’t offer.
Every year the last week of June and the first week of July, my
town holds the Alameda County Fair. I know that you probably just set my town
in the middle of the boondocks with farmers and tractors, but we are only 45
minutes from San Francisco. Trust me, it ain’t any Hannah Montana movie.
Anyways, this fair is the highlight of my childhood and I still make it a point
to go. Held since 1912, it seems as if the same rickety rides are there year
after year filled with screaming kids. The same greasy food smell wafting in
the air covers the entire fairgrounds and in the few buildings displaying the
quilts and jams and jewelry old ladies make in their leisure time. Although the
little kids have replaced the older, the layout and the machines are still the
same. Living in a city like Los Angeles that is continually changing and
modernizing makes it that much more comforting to go home where I know where everything
is and restaurants know my order and friends never fully drift apart.
Easter break I found myself one night in a high school classmate
of mine’s house surrounded by other people I had graduated with. We caught up
with each other and the general overview of our lives at this point. We talked
about other people we graduated with who are now engaged, having kids, or
getting “adult” jobs. Amidst our conversation, my friend Sara said, “I’m trying to get away from here as fast as
possible. I want to experience something else. But eventually I do want to come
back. The town is my family.”
Many
people do eventually come back and settle with their new families near or in
Pleasanton. Including all three of my sisters. My oldest also went to Loyola
Marymount. My second sister went to Sacramento. My last wandered around for a
bit. But they all came back as soon as they began their families. According to
the Bay Area Census, more than 10,000 people have migrated to the little town
within the past 17 years.
Growing
up this way has created a deeper homesickness than I usually see in other
people. Although, University of Warwick states that up to 70% of Freshmen
experience homesickness. For me it’s not completely satisfying when someone
visits me down here. My heart yearns for the ability to get lost in the acres
of uninhabited grass hills next to my house and take in the fresh air. To be
able to go so far away that you can’t hear any cars or sirens or music, just
chirping birds, moo-ing cows and the rustling wind.
No one from the city could truly understand.