Making the Great Escape Part 2

One day a girlfriend of mine invited me to a potluck lunch at her office building. I had a great time, and sat next to two of the most charming older gentlemen discussing politics and education. Being a parent, education is always on my mind. These gentlemen were so knowledgeable, and so interested in what I had to say. We talked for a couple of hours, and when the lunch was over my friend asked if I’d had a good time.

“It was great!” I told her.
“Do you know who those men were you were talking to?” She asked.
“Oh Yeah, Tom and Mike…..charming gentlemen,”
“Yes” she said with a grin. “The former senators are charming!”

And that wasn’t the only time that I met Wyoming senators in a casual setting. At one Casper Rockies baseball game, my youngest son, Joey caught a foul ball. John, a friend of ours grabbed Joey and directed him to the other side of the stands.

“See that man over there with the white hair?”
“Yes.” Joey answered, not impressed.
“Take your ball over there and have him sign it.” John instructed.
“I don’t want some stranger to sign my ball!”
“Just do it!” John insisted. He looked at me and winked.

I wasn’t sure why it was important, but I took Joey over and we asked the gentleman to sign his ball. He smiled, signed the ball, and passed it to the gentleman sitting next to him, who much to Joey’s frustration also signed the ball. Then he returned the ball to Joey and told Joey to look up at the higher seats in the stands.
“See that old guy up there?” he asked Joey, who nodded but was clearly tired of this game. “Go tell him I said to sign your ball.”

Well, it turned out that all three men were former Wyoming senators, and the first man was also a former pro ball player in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Joey had met three senators, and the next spring he would shake hands with Governor Dave Freudenthal at his D.A.R.E. graduation, experiences he probably would never have had in Los Angeles.

Now being a good California girl, when “spring” came around, I packed up my winter clothes, and filled my closet and drawers with my summer clothes…..it seemed like a good plan, I’ve been doing it all of my life, it was a little chilly still after March 21st, and into April….and May, and in June when I was dressed in my white capris, sandals, and a ‘cute’ summer top, shivering as I sat in the stands at our local minor league baseball game……and it started to snow….yes, I said it was June…..I know, I know, just think how surprised I was!!! And, this is how I learned that in Wyoming you can put away your summer clothes, but never, NEVER put away your winter clothes……..

I of course joined the PTA at the boys schools. After the first year I was asked to take a position on the County PTA Council, a position that I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to hold here in Los Angeles. As a result of that position I ended up serving for two years on the Wyoming State PTA Board as the State Arts Chair. I am so grateful for this experience. As a writer, having an opportunity to share the arts and open up opportunities to school kids was an amazing experience. One of the truly wonderful aspects of this experience was coordinating the State level judging of the National PTA’s Reflections Program. The first year that I chaired, the Reflection’s Theme was ‘A Different Kind of Hero’. I found that by just picking up the phone I could speak to a variety of important people and ask them to participate in this special arts program for our school children. This was one of the many advantages of living in a state with such a small population.

My Wyoming friends often laughed at me because I was so thrilled by dirt and open space. They were amazed that a girl who drove on the 405 Freeway in Los Angeles wouldn’t drive on the Interstate Highway in Wyoming…because she was afraid of hitting a deer or an antelope (in 6 years I never did leave Casper on my own!). They thought I was overdressed for every meeting, and that I was way too formal when I set up a board meeting.

The tables finally turned a little the year that the National PTA Convention was in Anaheim, California. I came as the County Council President, and our Vice President attended with me. Now we were on my home turf. When our VP left her purse in the chair next to her in the hotel lobby I shook my head and gave instructions on securing your purse at all times….including, in public restroom stalls. When we got on the escalator (I hadn’t been on an escalator in two years) I showed my pushy city side and made her walk up the escalator (it’s not a resting place, you can get to your destination twice as fast if you walk while you ride!) it was that or get run over by the throng of people coming up behind us. And, when she became impatient because we had to wait for a table at virtually every restaurant where we dined, I was able to laugh a little. In Wyoming you rarely wait for a parking spot, or a table. She almost had to force me to get back on the plane to go back to Wyoming, it was good to be home.

But, when we landed at Natrona County International Airport, and it was quieter at the airport than in my South Bay backyard, it felt pretty good to be in Wyoming. Although, I have to admit that first little trip back home was the beginning of my yearning to return to California.

Then a former neighbor from the South Bay called, and said her husband was considering applying for a job in Casper. I was thrilled, they were great friends, and we would love to have someone from home nearby. She asked some questions, I sent her some information, and a few weeks later she called and asked if her husband could come and stay at our house for a few days while he applied for the job and looked around town.

As she gave me his flight information she became a little frustrated. “Darn it, I didn’t get his gate number…. I know it should be here.” I almost burst out laughing. “Jacquie,” I said, “I don’t need a gate number, there’s only one gate. There will only be one small plane coming in with maybe 50 people on it, and I promise you, your husband will be the only tall Mexican guy getting off of the plane….we’ll find each other!” It was true of course. I drove at a leisurely pace to our International Airport, pulled right into a spot a row or two from the entrance. No charge for parking. The plane landed, Jacquie’s husband exited, grabbed his bag, we walked over to the rental car desk, he picked up a car, and we were done. I doubt if we were in the airport more than 15 minutes. The antelope barely looked up from where they were grazing at the end of the runway as we left.

One autumn day my, husband and I decided to take our boys to a pumpkin patch we’d heard about in Riverton, a town a couple of hours west of us. On the way there we passed through the small town of Shoshone, population just over 600 people. As we passed the little “street” with the saloon and the little shop that serves the most amazing “world famous Yellowstone Milkshakes”, we noticed a bunch of flatbed trailers lining the little block. It appeared to be some kind of street sale, so we got out and looked. As we were browsing, I had this eerie “Twilight Zone” feeling. Everything there was brand new….and yet, it looked like items from the 70’s. There was a rocking chair that reminded me of something one of my grandmothers owned when I was small, and a plastic kitchen clock that looked very similar to something the other grandmother had. Almost everything was avocado green, or harvest gold. The clothing styles, were dated, and was that a brand new shrink wrapped Six Million Dollar Man board game? Well as it turned out, it was an auction, and we were a little late to get in on the bidding. The items for sale were from the general store across the street. Sometime in the early or mid-70’s, or so we were told, the owner had gotten ill, and never returned to work. For about 30 years everything was just left in the store as it was….other than a fire that had done some damage….nothing had changed. It was like a little time capsule, and we were just amazed. We were too late to bid on some of the things we would have loved to purchase, but my husband did buy a beautiful leather jacket, lined with sheepskin for next to nothing. It’s original price in nineteen seventy something was $240. I tease him and call him McCloud when he wears it, because it reminds me of the jacket that Dennis Weaver wore in that 1970’s tv series.

In early 2007 we got a phone call telling us that my father in law was dying of cancer. We were only able to return to California once to see him before his funeral that November. We knew we were just a little too far from home, and that it was time to end our great adventure.

We’ve been back a year now, and it didn’t take long to get back into the swing of city life. When we signed the stack of documents that killed 2 trees (are we really environmentalists here in California) in order to close escrow on our new home, I thought about the few pages we signed to sell our home in Wyoming. When I made my appointment to register our car at the Department of Motor Vehicles, so that I would only wait for 30 or 40 minutes (hopefully) as opposed to 2-3 hours, I thought about the fact that Wyoming has no DMV. I could go to the court house, generally walk right up to a cashier and pay my registration fees then go home. This year when I waited in line for nearly 2 hours just to get fabric cut at JoAnne’s the week before Christmas, I thought about the fact that if I was in Casper, I’d have been home sewing before I even got in line to pay for that fabric.

And, yet, I have to admit, that I’m happy to be back home. I didn’t realize how much I missed authentic Mexican food, and Japanese, and Mediterranean …and…… I knew how much I missed fresh produce and being able to find a farmer’s market every day of the week. I missed the ocean, and although I loved the snow….those frigid temperatures often made me long for a Southern California winter. I definitely missed my family and friends….although now I miss the good friends I made in Wyoming. And, I missed being someplace that was familiar, that I had a history…..where I knew I belonged. I am so grateful that we had the opportunity to make “The Great Escape”, but for all it’s imperfections, there is no place like Los Angeles, and I’m so glad to be back.

Making the Great Escape

Ever thought about ‘making the great escape’? You know, getting out of the city, leaving the rat race behind?….. Leaving L.A.? Well, then….I have a story to tell…..

It was 1998, and I had been toying with a little fantasy for nearly 2 years. It was a dream I had of open space, trees that didn’t sprout from concrete holes, quiet country roads and vast blue skies. Whenever the traffic got to be too much for me, I would look at a map of the U.S. and find a small town. When the lines were too long at the grocery store, I’d go to the library and do some research. When I got tired of the high cost of living, I’d order a newspaper from a new small town. I would watch reruns of Little House on the Prairie, just to imagine a simpler life.

So, one day, when my husband got home from work and was exhausted from his forty five minute commute from his job in Redondo Beach, to our home in South Torrance, (keep in mind, that’s only about 8 miles) I decided to share my peaceful, little fantasy with him.

By this time, I’d collected quite a bit of research, I was looking for a town with sports, preferably auto racing and plenty of work for my husband, a college town for our boys, then ages 16, 10 & 8, and a place with some history and culture for me. I had narrowed my fantasy life to 3 small towns, one in Oregon, one in Idaho and one in Wyoming. Although I had phone books, newspapers, maps and brochures, and a good case for each town, I was fully aware that this was just a fantasy…..a coping technique, for days when I couldn’t find space to store one more item in the teeny, tiny house we rented for an outrageous amount of money. And, I thought maybe my husband needed a far away dream to help him cope.

I was surprised when he actually reviewed the material thoughtfully, asking me questions and taking my research seriously. After all, he had grown up in Manhattan Beach, I was from Long Beach, and we had both decided that the 5 years we had spent living in Palmdale were much too far from the ocean. But after considering my presentation, my beach boy looked at me and said “We’re not moving, but Casper, Wyoming looks like a great place for a vacation!’

And so, after nearly two years of research, and a couple of months of planning, we packed our suitcases and left to visit one of the little towns I had researched so diligently as part of my fantasy.

It was late August, and we were shocked to need sweaters and jackets as we drove across the Wyoming State line at 7am. But the crisp mountain air was refreshing and invigorating. We arrived at our destination and spent ten days exploring, visiting historic sites, enjoying the state fair, seeing a rodeo, and going to the dragstrip in a nearby town. Then one day we stood on top of Casper Mountain, looking down at all of that amazing open space, and decided we could do this. We could leave the city….we could make the great escape, and start a new life in this beautiful, little town that lay between the North Platte River and the foot of the Rocky Mountains.
It actually took another 4 years to make our dream happen. But we did make it happen. We felt like pioneers loading our U-Haul truck until you couldn’t have put a matchstick between the boxes, and heading out to the wild west….only it was actually north east for us.

We landed in town the end of June knowing virtually no one, and having nowhere to live. My husband did have a job to start the following Monday, and we had reserved a room at a little motel that had a kitchenette. We unloaded our U-Haul into a storage unit, and Paul started work on Monday……meanwhile, my job was to keep our 10 & 12 year old boys occupied, while finding a house for us to rent………but there were just plain no rentals.

So, within one week, we had made an offer to buy a house with a great location, and lots of ‘potential’, closed escrow in less than a month, and we began to set down roots.

The first year was an adventure. We went out to lunch with one of my husband’s new co-worker’s and I ordered a grilled chicken salad.

“What’s the matter with you?” grumbled the big cowboy sitting across from me. “You one of those California Vegetarians??” I felt like I’d made a major faux paux.

“But, but,” I stammered. “Chicken’s are animals!”

“Yeh! So, what’s wrong with beef?”

That summer passed quickly and uneventfully as we unpacked boxes, enrolled the boys in school, and started to get settled.

I got a part time job teaching sewing classes at a local sewing store. I was to begin teaching on October the 1st. . Now, I always try to dress professionally, so I wore a nice skirt and jacket, some low heels and stockings……but, it had started to snow, and I hadn’t realized that I didn’t have any shoes that actually covered my feet, except my tennis shoes, or that I didn’t really have a coat warm enough for the sudden drop in temperature, and that the wind and snow were going to make a sticky wet mess of my freshly curled, and sprayed hair, and did I tell you that I’d never driven in the snow…..heck, I’m from Los Angeles, I don’t even drive in rain!!!! So I arrived at my class, eyes red from crying, hair sticky and matted, feet frozen and I was drenched from head to toe.

My first class looked at me like I was from another planet…….. “It’s okay,” the store owner told them, “She’s from Los Angeles”. And as my students started nodding and laughing I realized that I was from another planet.

I’d been teaching sewing for a few years, and was prepared for questions like “How do I sew on satin without it shifting?” and “What kind of stabilizer do I use for a button hole?” I was not prepared for “What kind of needle do I need to use when I’m fixing my husbands “Carharts” and “What fabrics are best for sub zero temperatures?”

Having spent most of our lives in the Los Angeles South Bay, we were used to the sounds of airplanes passing overhead, police, news and a variety of helicopters hovering, freeway traffic, street traffic, sirens, etc. But, our new, small town life was peaceful and quiet. If you saw an airplane overhead it reminded you that you hadn’t seen one in awhile, the sound of helicopters meant one of the medi-vac helicopters was probably off to rescue someone. There are no police helicopters, no news helicopters. That’s right business is not going to stop for a high-speed pursuit. You are not going to sit on a stool at your favorite bar, have a drink and watch the latest high speed police chase as filmed by seven different news helicopters, and tracked by one or more police helicopters.

But then, the news is different too. Unlike the Los Angeles news market where local news anchors may make triple digit (or higher) salaries, good anchors become local celebrities and there is stiff competition for news anchor jobs, in Wyoming, you aren’t likely to see any particular news anchor for more than a few months, before they’re off for greener pastures. There is little crime to report, and the political issues are a far cry from the issues discussed here in Los Angeles. Gay Marriage, Immigration reform, and Gang Violence are not likely to be hot topics. More likely they will be discussing how long wolves should be on the endangered species list, penalties for poaching on private land (I don’t mean poached salmon, this is hunting), and giving you the high school sports scores for the entire state.

We spent that first year learning things we had never needed to know before. My husband learned that you can’t wear steel toed boots in sub zero temperatures. I learned that you had to scrape the snow off your entire car, not just the windows, otherwise when you drive the snow from the hood blows up onto the front window, the snow on the roof will slide down onto front and back windows, and when you open the trunk to fill it with groceries, the snow will slide down the trunk door and into the back of your trunk!! Also window squeegees….do not work as snow scrapers.

We learned that although in Los Angeles we could put our pumpkins out on the porch to display them, if you leave them on the porch when the temperatures are in the teens, they will freeze….and you won’t be able to carve them, and if you thaw them out in the house….they become mush….and again you won’t be able to carve them, you will be scooping them up off the floor. We also learned that people don’t trick or treat when it’s 13 degrees outside, and the sidewalks are covered with black ice. What’s the point of a costume when you have to cover it with your heavy winter coat, some warm boots, sub zero rated gloves and a ski mask….hmmm in Los Angeles that would be a costume!!!

After living in Palmdale, California for a few years, where the schools are shut down when you have 3 inches of snow and it’s 30 degrees outside, we were surprised to find out that in Wyoming the schools don’t shut down when there are 17” of snow outside, and the temperature is 12 degrees…..and there is now school bus if you live within 2 miles of the school. However, the police do take snow days, and if you have a non injury collision you are asked to please exchange information, and make a report to the police department when the weather clears up!! Ahhh yes, the honor system.
Now, being from the Los Angeles South Bay area. I’m used to crowds at the malls, and plan my shopping trips around the busy times. When we got to Casper, where we had one of the two actual shopping malls in the state, and our mall was central to most people in the state, I was told to stay away from the mall and Wal-Mart on the weekends because the “entire state comes to shop on the weekends”. For the first few weeks I heeded that advice, but after a few weeks I got to thinking about it, and realized that even if the entire state showed up on the weekend (which wasn’t likely) there were only about 500,000 people in the state, less than the population of the Los Angeles South Bay area, and I could probably handle both the traffic (hahahaha) and the lines. So I went to the mall….. I’ll try to stop laughing now, because I think you know where this is going. In fact, although my gifts were all purchased by Halloween (years of habit) and wrapped by Thanksgiving, my husband and I decided to go to the mall the day after Thanksgiving, yes, Black Friday, just for the fun of it. We parked right in front of JCPenney, laughed when we saw the longest check out line had 3 people in it, and those people were complaining about having to wait. It was fun to be able to laugh at the natives after being laughed at for the past 6 months.