I was touched by the genuine sentiment, love of place, and crystal-clear memories of Glenn Petersen reflected in “My Paris” in the September 19 issue. As I read it, I could feel the cold PCH [Pacific Coast Highway] air turn into warm sunshine on the white streets of 1963 Santa Barbara. It touched my heart. We all share in that love affair that is life in Santa Barbara, and we never forget it.
I returned to Santa Barbara on August 6, 2013, having been gone for 20 years to the month. Upon my arrival, I knelt and kissed the filthy carpet of our tiny condo.
I attended UCSB twice, first in the ’70s, then in the ’80s, working through grad school as a teacher at Devereux School. Love and marriage took us first to the Bay Area, then to the Pacific Northwest, for 20 years in all. I left Portland, Oregon, in August, overcome with SADD, starving for sunlight and warm air. I felt like a prisoner, a POW released to my home in Santa Barbara. I will never leave this place again.
Many thanks to Glenn Petersen for shining such a beautiful light on our collective memories of Santa Barbara.