Should You Ever Go Back Home?
Should You Ever Go Back Home?
Both of my parents were born and raised in New York City. In 1954, they made the cross-country journey to the land of sunshine and movie stars and made it their home, Los Angeles, California. I came into the world a few years later.
I felt as a kid, and still do, that growing up in the San Fernando Valley was a golden utopia. We had safe, wide streets to play ball, parks and open spaces to play, dig, run and explore. We had a half dozen or so movie theaters within a three mile radius, malls, ice skating rinks, swimming pools and best of all, dozens of friends. Some of my best friends to this day were playground buddies as far back as the 1st grade. It was the 60’s and 70’s…a fabulous time to be a kid in sunny SoCal.
When I was 15 years old my folks took me back to New York City to see a few aging relatives and friends. My parents had me very late in life, so many of my cousins were already in their 40’s. It was my first time in the “Big Apple” and I was excited for no other reason than see the tallest building in the world (at that time) and to see where my parents grew up. When we arrived, I wanted to go to the Bronx, my parent’s birthplace. “No, we can’t go there…it’s changed” my mother said. Well then, being a big L.A. Dodger fan, I asked to see the home of the beloved Brooklyn Dodgers. This time it was my father exclaiming, “You can’t go back, son”. Those words stung…”You can’t go back”. “Whaddya mean, that’s what I’m here for?” “Look over there Pop, a sign right there on the expressway…it says, “Brooklyn”. “Forget it, we’re not going”. My folks never explained why, but it was clear they had no desire to see their old stomping grounds.
I travel to Los Angeles several times a year, but always to a specific destination. I hardly ever cruise around the San Fernando Valley looking at old haunts…until this past year. There was a place I used to frequent as a kid, “Buddy’s Bat-A-Way”. Buddy’s was a popular batting cage in an industrial section of the valley, across from a General Motors plant. My friends and I would spend hours devouring snacks from the vending machine and hitting off machines by the names “Koufax”, “Drysdale”, and “Spahn”. Of course, any kid knew the “Koufax” cage brought the heat!
As I drove down Van Nuys Blvd that day, I forgot all about Buddy’s until it came into view. “Wow! Buddy’s!” I had to stop. At first glance I thought it was still open and became excited at the opportunity to swing at a few pitches for old time’s sake. Upon a closer look, I could see the background netting was withering away with gaping holes and the huge plastic “baseball” night lights were faded - I could barely see the painted on “stitching”. How long Buddy’s had been shut down, I don’t know. It looked like a while, and then as I gazed around, I could see the surrounding “suburban blight” I read about in the newspapers; suburbs built in the 1950’s outliving the deteriorating neighborhoods. I decided to drive by my old schools and saw that the years had definitely taken their toll. Even the 1950’s era stucco homes looked tired and worn. The main boulevards and streets, where stand-alone coffee shops and grocery stores once stood, were now crowded strip malls with flea markets everywhere. My god, am I that old? Have so many years gone by? My thoughts immediately turned to my deceased parents…”You Can’t Go Back”. Truth is, you can…but it may not be pretty.
