In Praise of Reseda
The Santa Ana winds blow and we’re buried in pine needles. There are no pine trees in front of or behind our house. Our neighbors don’t have pine trees either. The high school athletic field across the street, however, is rimmed with pine trees. Our front yard is covered with needles, and a really strong wind will blow some of them over the house and into our backyard. The camellias love them, but the roses complain.
In Los Angeles, when the conversation gets around to real estate, the phrase of coinage is “Location is everything!” The mounds of pine needles always set me thinking. There are pluses and minuses about our location, but which is what depends on the perspective of the reviewer. We live in Reseda, an area of Los Angeles far out of the “desirable location” range. Our house is situated in a small enclave, about four square blocks, which is still zoned R-A. No lot can be smaller than a half-acre, and we can keep horses, sheep, goats, chickens, etc. I was delighted when my daughter’s practicing of a Bach fugue was counterpointed by a crowing rooster. It’s fun to open your door Halloween night and find three horses, each carrying two kids yelling “trick or treat!” The most fun, though, was watching my New York relatives as they stared out our front window at two girls walking down the block leading their Merino sheep on leashes. “In the city?” my sister gasped.
Even when the Santa Anas aren’t blowing, the high school across the way generates traffic at 7:45 a.m. and 3:15 p.m., but we can always get in and out of our driveway--which can’t always be said for those living on the more posh canyon throughways. Yes, there are noisy football games, a grand total of five nights a year. And I can hear band practice in the morning if I open my door or windows. (The band is pretty good, so I don’t know whether to count that as a plus or a minus.) The school’s running track, tennis courts and indoor pool are available for our use year-round during nonschool hours. (Now that is a definite plus.)
The biggest plus comes along like clockwork every June. I make sure I’m home on graduation day. I stand outside and watch the families walk down the street. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and grandparents--a wondrous variety of ethnicities but all of them dressed up, some carrying flowers or balloons, and everyone filled with pride. I know that for many of them, this is the first time someone in their family has graduated from high school. The future looks bright, and it’s reflected in their faces and in their proud walk. I watch and I smile and, in my heart, I applaud each and every one of them as they walk by. I remember my immigrant grandparents and parents, their struggles to achieve and to have their children achieve. And I remember their pride in themselves and in me and my sisters. And I know how proud I am of my children and grandchildren. We live in a great location.
