River Intersection

“There is a mystery about rivers that draws us to them, for they rise from hidden places and travel by routes that are not always tomorrow where they might be today. Unlike a lake or sea, a river has a destination and there is something about the certainty with which it travels that makes it very soothing, particularly for those who’ve lost faith with where they’re headed.”

Revisiting an earlier painting I shared on a past blog. It has become an omnipresent metaphor for my time here in Sacramento…

I am an admirer of acclaimed, Sacramento-rooted artist Wayne Thiebaud. I have always been drawn to his pop work; his ability to merge perspective and culture into his subject matter.  

Aptly, upon my arrival to Sacramento, I discovered Thiebaud's series of works depicting the local rivers and agricultural landscape. And, when I saw this particular painting, River Intersection, it resonated. It is an interpretation of the local rivers and delta…geographical topography that, in my life, had very little allure. But, to my surprise, this urban girl who gravitated toward lush landscapes, sweeping cityscapes, and abstract art, fell in love with a painting of waterways, farmland, and levees.

As I came to study it further, I found this quote by Thiebaud himself (whom I am told is still living near my current Sacramento neighborhood):

“ River Intersection tries to express various seasons, various times of the day, various vantage points, and then tries to get the thing to come together like a whole…[this] painting has a lot to do with the exercise of empathy, where you have to believe that you’re walking the path or under the trees, that you are somehow able to transfer yourself.”

My lovely granddaughters at he Tower Bridge:
Where the American
and Sacramento Rivers converge

As part of my daily routine, I cross the American River. I often walk along its shore. I have passed through the Tower Bridge where the American and Sacramento Rivers become one and I have driven alongside the surrounding Delta. “River Intersection” literally depicts my current place. As well, there is a challenge to find deeper meaning. The past, present, and yes, future are intersecting and, in the journey within its boundaries, is transformation and change.

Wow…talk about metaphors! The masterful, convergent imagery of place and connection explained. Truly my personal and Sacramento symbol!

So has this crossroad, this city of rivers and unknown pathways offered me the answers I seek?

One and half years living within Sacramento, this is what I know. What I initially wrote about Sacramento, my first impressions and interpretations that are found in the earlier entries of this blog site, remain true. Sacramento is what it is. It is not a big city. Actually, I struggle with calling it a city at all. In my definition of what a city should be, I look for unique neighborhoods, culturally steeped in the ethos of its inhabitants, yet somehow seamlessly contributing to and enriching the overall integrity and identity of the city. This a city’s signature; its special sense of being.

For example, In New York, you may be in the Upper West Side but you always know you are in New York. In London, you may live in Notting Hill, but you are always a Londoner. In fact, whole countries likewise distinguish. You may be walking along a cobbled street in a Tuscan village or the bustling, streets of Naples…but you always “know” you are in Italy. This continuity does not present in Sacramento. As I drive from Tudor mansioned enclaves to barbed-wired ranch houses, I find myself asking, “Where am I?” “What is Sacramento? I remain confused and searching for the quintessential character of this “city”. And locals define themselves not in the larger sense but within their confines of their specific community. They rarely venture beyond. They are content to live the country club life or the hipster, downtown existence or their pickup truck adventures. Select one and live accordingly. As a result there is no dominate ethos to Sacramento.

As well, a city must offer abounding opportunities to immerse yourself in its culture—from art to theater to its signature cuisine. Sacramento is still adolescent in its offerings, struggling to rise to a Michelan standard amidst a strip mall mentality of fast food and dollar stores. I have searched and searched for little areas festooned with restaurants and galleries that allow strolling and appreciating. I come up empty handed. When I ask, I am told to drive to the mall.

Once:
Baci at McKinley Park, Sacramento

Where Sacramento does excel is in its ability to offer families a place to nest and call home. It creates community bonds with local schools, churches. There is an abundance of parks that offer playgrounds and paths for Sunday strolls -- idyllic for nurturing safety, belonging, and filling up the days with car pools, dance lessons, and soccer games. I honor that in Sacramento.

In all fairness, I set my expectations bar quite high. I came here as I ended a past. And I had to mourn the lost dreams, sad goodbyes, and harsh changes that inevitably accompany such a life altering passage. I miss New York. I miss my dog. I did not expect Sacramento to “save” me. Only I could do that. But there was hope that what might come next, no matter how unknown, might be filled with surprising possibilities.

Sacramento has been a refuse, a shelter. It has been a disappointment and it has been a salvation. It has offered places of loveliness and yet propelled a longing in me to recapture a more exciting existence that compels my soul. I know that Sacramento has been a place for me to regroup. I am not the same person that moved here a year ago. I have had time to heal. I have had to evaluate. I have had time to plan. For that I am appreciative.

So far, this is what I know. I have to accept what I cannot change but never, never lose that innate desire to love.  Love myself, love my family and friends, and love the place where I live. I call it self-empathy which, finally, I have come to embrace. It has been a lifelong process. Not unlike the journey that underlies the wisdom of the rivers intersecting in self belief as depicted in Wayne Theibold’s painting.  

“Down in the riverbed, in this territory of vanishings, I might have been at loose in any time. The things that survived here did so against all odds, blooming into the teeth of the wind, amid the shifting beds of shingle.… I had the sense I’d fallen into some other world, adjacent to our own, and though I would at any moment be pitched back, I thought I might have grasped the knack of slipping to and fro.” Olivia Laing

Along the American River, on a warm summer evening,
the last photo taken of Baci and me

I stand on the intersections of change; of acceptance and sad good byes. I long for the places and loves past. I hope for a better unknown. Transcended by the confusion of loneliness and the strength of conviction, I continue seek my ultimate sense of place and the final, graceful seasons of a loving soul enriched.

Taken tonight as I walk along the American River

“Lifespan…appears, not as drama complete in itself, but only as a brief interlude in a panorama of endless change.” Virginia Woolf