While I've had a crazy, busy summer, with lots of travel- this last week has been, in part, settling back home. Home for me has been Sylmar most of my life. Sylmar. Sylmar is to the San Fernando Valley as maybe Oxnard is to Ventura County. Or Fresno to the wine country in mid California. Venice beach to Malibu. Sort of looked down on, sort of wrong side of tracks, sort of conglomeration of a very eclectic group of mavericks. Sylmar.
It was told that Sylmar was named after the vast amount of Olive groves covering it's frame. Sylmar means Silver Seas, they say, because of the waves of silver that brushed the sky as the wind blew up the undersides of the olive leaves. I've seen the wind do that, having grown up in an olive grove. It really is pretty, although I took it for granted as a kid.
The fact that my family owned the grove and ran the local olive mill has always made me feel more rooted here than maybe most. Like I have a stake in the soil. You see one of the remaining trees in the shot of my backyard above. The fact that my Papanan- Italian for grandpa- came over in 1909 and, upon seeing the Silver Seas, reminding him of his home in Italy, settled here put another peg in it's soil for me.
Flanked on the North to the East with mountains, being a foothill town of the valley, Sylmar has morphed over the years from country to suburb. But it has stubbornly clung to it's roots. Having lots of big lots zoned for horses, you will always see in Sylmar the riders going down the streets, and up along the sides of the hill. Only then they were plain white men and women out for a ride on a modest small stable horse or pony. Now they are mostly vaqueros in their sombreors riding anything from stable horses to beautiful prancing Andelusians ( no really-right here in Sylmar!!!!) But just to add that Sylmarian flair- they have often been seen talking on cell phones as they ride!
All of this was just to let you know 2 things I saw today- and I knew I was back in Sylmar. The first was a calmly singing elderly, gray-haired gentleman in a cap riding down the road on a 10 speed which was pulling a grocery cart by a thin cord about 7 feet long. He had to keep a steady enough speed to prevent the cart from rolling into him, but seemed to be quite up for the task.
Then a little farther down the road 2 teen aged boys mounted their skateboards gingerly, with their guitars in hand, to cross the street. Sylmar.
I don't know why, but I almost feel proud when I announce that we really don't have anything here in terms of big time entertainment. No theater, no mall, (you really can't count the old Sylmar square which has mostly turned into a mini-swap meet. We don't even have a Starbucks, I boast. But we have 2 very funky coffee shops, and our Veteran's Park near the foothills not only has an awesome cactus garden, but a Frisbee golf course that winds it's way through a misplaced stand of tall pine trees.
My motive in downplaying Sylmar is to keep others from moving in, thus keeping the housing market in reasonable range- so that rif-raf like me can still afford to move here. :<)
Admittedly, it has definitely changed, and has it's slummy streets- mostly the main streets. But there are pockets of quiet, nice neighborhoods still being guarded by some of the remaining old olive trees. Sort of like the faithful old servant who, upon being retired, said, "No, I like it here with you. I think I'll stay."
(And now I will end this post with a preposition.)
I once saw a sign that said, "Oxnard. Not just another pretty name!" I think I could say the same about Sylmar, with all the insincerity I can muster!
It was told that Sylmar was named after the vast amount of Olive groves covering it's frame. Sylmar means Silver Seas, they say, because of the waves of silver that brushed the sky as the wind blew up the undersides of the olive leaves. I've seen the wind do that, having grown up in an olive grove. It really is pretty, although I took it for granted as a kid.
The fact that my family owned the grove and ran the local olive mill has always made me feel more rooted here than maybe most. Like I have a stake in the soil. You see one of the remaining trees in the shot of my backyard above. The fact that my Papanan- Italian for grandpa- came over in 1909 and, upon seeing the Silver Seas, reminding him of his home in Italy, settled here put another peg in it's soil for me.
Flanked on the North to the East with mountains, being a foothill town of the valley, Sylmar has morphed over the years from country to suburb. But it has stubbornly clung to it's roots. Having lots of big lots zoned for horses, you will always see in Sylmar the riders going down the streets, and up along the sides of the hill. Only then they were plain white men and women out for a ride on a modest small stable horse or pony. Now they are mostly vaqueros in their sombreors riding anything from stable horses to beautiful prancing Andelusians ( no really-right here in Sylmar!!!!) But just to add that Sylmarian flair- they have often been seen talking on cell phones as they ride!
All of this was just to let you know 2 things I saw today- and I knew I was back in Sylmar. The first was a calmly singing elderly, gray-haired gentleman in a cap riding down the road on a 10 speed which was pulling a grocery cart by a thin cord about 7 feet long. He had to keep a steady enough speed to prevent the cart from rolling into him, but seemed to be quite up for the task.
Then a little farther down the road 2 teen aged boys mounted their skateboards gingerly, with their guitars in hand, to cross the street. Sylmar.
I don't know why, but I almost feel proud when I announce that we really don't have anything here in terms of big time entertainment. No theater, no mall, (you really can't count the old Sylmar square which has mostly turned into a mini-swap meet. We don't even have a Starbucks, I boast. But we have 2 very funky coffee shops, and our Veteran's Park near the foothills not only has an awesome cactus garden, but a Frisbee golf course that winds it's way through a misplaced stand of tall pine trees.
My motive in downplaying Sylmar is to keep others from moving in, thus keeping the housing market in reasonable range- so that rif-raf like me can still afford to move here. :<)
Admittedly, it has definitely changed, and has it's slummy streets- mostly the main streets. But there are pockets of quiet, nice neighborhoods still being guarded by some of the remaining old olive trees. Sort of like the faithful old servant who, upon being retired, said, "No, I like it here with you. I think I'll stay."
(And now I will end this post with a preposition.)
I once saw a sign that said, "Oxnard. Not just another pretty name!" I think I could say the same about Sylmar, with all the insincerity I can muster!
