A love letter to California

Dear California,

   I wish you were what everyone wants you to be. Lord knows that you're capable of it. Sure, there's that cop that shot Oscar Grant, but there is also a place where my autistic step-cousin with Down Syndrome can go to ride horses. There is an actual town called Twin Peaks that, as far as I know, houses no serial killers but three sex offenders. You gave the world the Beach Boys and I am grateful for that. Even the darker side has its perks. I don't want to live in a world without N.W.A.

   Writer John Fante knew you. In "Ask the Dust," he wrote, "Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles, come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town!"

   This feeling of a West Coast promised land still exists today, albeit written more than 70 years ago. When you do not meet expectations, you are blamed and I feel bad for you.

   I, for one, am still infatuated with you. You are The Giving Tree manifested. You are the woman I believe to be a princess no matter what others have to say about you. I think what is happening here is more along the lines of poor discipline. Say there's a sixth grade science class. It is putting dry ice into water for one reason or another. One of the students decides to eat the dry ice. As a result, the entire class is punished and all the dry ice is taken away. People hate on you because of those bad apples. Or maybe I should say bad oranges? Either way, the science class doesn't know you like I do.

   Your curves, California, I know your curves. Not only does the outline of your state have 840 miles of coastline, but also it makes a mediocre first tattoo that I've seen a dozen times. The tattoo is tired, but I don't mind you. Your geography is so great that Disney – one of the aforementioned bad oranges – commoditized you and built a theme park. I refuse to think of you as a Mickey Mouse, though. The ride Soarin' Over California doesn't have a clue.

   One time, I went night diving in the waters next to Catalina Island and realized that you will always have some secrets. The 7th Street exit construction off the 405 freeway pains me to no end and I can only imagine the amount of disfigurement you've endured over the years. However, you still play hard to get. Urban sprawl is your enemy but you will always outsmart it. I think the world will end before every inch is developed, so at least there's that.

   Maybe I don't really know you, but I like to think I do. Actually, I'm positive you would tell everyone, "You don't know anything."

   Sincerely,

   Jamie Florance