Passage of Time
Photo by Ann Cook
What’s on my mind?
California College of the Arts will close after 100 years. This sad, unexpected news prompted me to think about the places that have shaped my life.
I grew up in Oildale, California, during the 1960s. I often think of Happy Acres Trailer Park as a place central to my childhood. I‘ve written about those formidable years and found the humor in my feralness.
In 1972, we moved halfway around the world to Tarbela, Pakistan. The shock was significant, but we adjusted to our unconventional life among an international community. During that time, I entered my tween years. I had my first crush on an English boy, cried during piano lessons, and watched spaghetti westerns with Italians at the local cinema. And yet, I was still a bit feral.
Boarding school in Murree was just three hours from Tarbela, but the winding road through the Himalayas made it feel much farther. Independence from my parents, having structure, and a close community were exactly what I needed, and I thrived. But leaving during my sophomore year was a loss I felt for years.
My parents moved to Thailand, and I went to boarding school in Penang, Malaysia. It was a beautiful tropical island location, and the school food was great, but I struggled socially and academically. I’ve always thought of Dalat School as the one place that represents my adolescent experience and the awkwardness I had perfected. When I graduated, I felt relief.
I returned to the U.S. to attend Bakersfield College. Of course, I was a pro at dorm life by then, but academics continued to challenge me. I went on my first date, got my first low-paying job, and attended my first homecoming football game. And then everything changed. I became an art major.
Transferring to art school in the Bay Area marked the beginning of my career as a graphic designer. And yes, I lived in the dorms. It was also the beginning of David and me. We celebrate 40 years of marriage this August. I graduated from the California College of the Arts with a degree in graphic design and a bright future, full of hope.
Each of these places represents a significant change in my life. They’re filled with memories that are part of me, yet separate from who I am today.
Which brings me full circle to my alma mater and its impending closure. It feels as though the lights are being turned off one by one, yet I remain the constant, holding a flickering candle.
Happy Acres Trailer Park was demolished last year. Recently, I looked through the chain-link fence at the concrete pad where my trailer once stood and felt a deep sense of loss for my childhood. Yet through the stories I've written, it's immortalized.
The Tarbela I knew and loved no longer exists, though the dam remains strong. Those of us who lived there as children will continue to connect on social media until we’re gone.
Murree was closed a decade ago after an attack by insurgents. Six people were killed. Today, the old British garrison church and the buildings remain in good condition, yet inside, the lifeblood that once ran through its hallways is gone.
Photos of Dalat School shock me. The campus has undergone significant modernization, now surrounded by high-rise buildings, and I don’t recognize much of it anymore.
Bakersfield College has changed over the years, yet it's still familiar. My old dorm is now the campus security office. The boys' dorm was demolished to make way for an enormous library. There’s a three-story building where the housing office used to be. Despite all the changes, the tree where David and I carved our initials all those years ago remains.
All of these places represent the passage of time. They’re evidence of my past selves that have disappeared while I remain, standing here with my candle, and feeling old.
