6/22/12

My phone plays a truly horrid tune when I set the thing on alarm and it goes off as directed. Nauseating horrid tune. It does achieve the desired result in that it will awaken me. Five thirty in the AM. Slide open the curtain.

Overcast. Breeze through the window smells of the sea. Cool breeze. Very fresh cool breeze.

A very few joggers and dog walkers already out. The homeless guy is still there, sacked out on the cement, using the railroad tie as a pillow. Just beyond him is quiet water. The sun is up somewhere, and I can see just fine. The overcast flattens the light and confuses the distances. Some minor clanks waft up from the back door of the deli below. The hum of an air conditioner fan somewhere.  A rare car drives past. But the sense is of quiet. 

The square sails of the moored museum ship hang limp. A seagull makes small circular waves that soon fade to nothing. A scatter of lights across the bay. The jump of a fish. 

I don’t generally do cities. Cities are too big and they leave too small spaces into which I can retreat. Too many people, buildings, cars…..and the fears rise in my throat and it’s time to leave. Now, please.

But somebody put this city in a nice place. On this bay next to that ocean. And as long as I can cling to only this thin slice of the city and kinda pretend that the rest of the city lurking behind me isn’t really there, I can do this for a bit, and even enjoy it. I’m enjoying the early morning when this city is here for me, and the others can have it later.

San Diego. Been here four times before over the years. Once was pretty much terrible, save for the zoo visit. Dropped the girl off for her first year of college another time, and that was bitter and sweet. Did two conferences here, and they were tolerable. And discovered the Bay and the joy of hanging off the balcony and just looking at the thing, and I could do this again. So here we are. 

Another conference, and this has been a good one. The time spent on the balcony has been the highlight. Lunch break from the lectures, and back in the room. Sun out now and the light defies belief. This cannot be possible. The water sparkles. Every detail sharp and clear. The fresh cool breeze. Boats crisscross the bay. The walkway along the water is packed with walkers. The smell from the seafood restaurant. Navy ASW helicopter roars past on turbine driven rotors. And then I saw it.

I’ve seen pictures of this. I know they do it every time they come home. I just wasn’t expecting to ever actually see it.

The USS Makin Island, LHD-8 sailed into the bay, made the slow starboard turn around the point of land occupied by the naval air station, and then passed by heading south toward its berth.  I don’t get to see an amphibious assault ship every day. This was my first, actually. The navy has eight of this class. They look every bit an aircraft carrier, only truncated at 840 feet long and 40,000 tons. The flattop can launch helicopters and Harriers. And then down below the various hovercraft and amphibious vehicles wait for the marines the ship carries, and heaven help those folks trembling ashore.

This ship has been out there for seven months, doing the sort of things for which we all should be thankful. Those of us who wish to see this country survive should be thankful, anyway. The rest who maybe don’t know how thankful they should be, well I hope you never find out what could happen if you got your way.

Anyway, when an aircraft carrier comes home, the sailors in dress white line every edge of the flight deck, all the way around the ship, and they stand there as the ship sails into port. They did this for us today. I’ll tell ya…if that sight doesn’t put the lump in your throat, you been gone far too long. We have pictures. But even without, we won’t ever forget.

Guys and gals aboard…..Thanks for your service.