"You moved where?"  

 "Sacramento"

 "Why?"

        Sacramento is not thought of very highly by a lot of Bay Area-ites.  I'm not entirely sure why.  I suppose many cannot separate the town from the stink wafting up from the State Assembly and Capital.  Politics as a whole is repugnant to your average person, and California's is especially loathsome. It's an unfortunate metonymy, "Sacramento" for the sludge that leaks out of the State Assembly, but it is to be expected.  When one considers "Washington DC", its a rare soul who thinks of the Smithsonian first and the politics second.   I grew up in Menlo Park, decidedly Bay Area-centric.  In the circles I came of age in, Sacramento wasn't thought of negatively so much as it wasn't thought of at all. To many, it was simply a road marker, signaling the halfway point to the slopes or the lake house.  That may sound snobbish and condescending, but so is Menlo Park.  

   Up until a week ago I was living in Menlo Park.  I had moved back in with my folks in November. The plan was to help them finish an addition that my stepdad has been building since the mid 1990's so that they could sell and enjoy their retirement in the peace and tranquility of the midwest.  My stepfather, Pieter,  was born in Holland and grew up in South Africa.  He moved to the States when he was 15, lied about his age in order to join the Marine Corps just after his 17th birthday. He is a veteran of two tours  in Viet Nam.  He was involved in Operation Phoenix and the Tet Offensive. He lived in Hell's Kitchen in the '70's.  When we met him, in '86, he was an inpatient at the Menlo Park Veterans Hospital. . .  the setting for Kesey's "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest".  Books could be written about the crazy crap that he has done and seen in his life, but that isn't the point right now.  The point is, he is a hard man. . .  a good man. . . .but a hard man.  I love him, he loves me, but we have had more than our share of problems in the last 20 odd years.  And a week ago one such problem reached a boiling point.  The living situation became untenable.  I had to leave.  Sacramento was my port in a storm.  I left the next day.  

   Sacramento , despite living just 2 hours away for most of my life, is a place that I had visited exactly twice.  The first time was for a Phish show at Cal Expo in '95. (http://http.phantasytour.com/phish/shows.cgi?showID=1006)  I enjoyed the hell out of this visit, but Sacramento had very little to do with it.  The second visit was this past november, when I spent a day and a night visiting an ex-girlfriend in LandPark. (The ex, Jess,  is the reason I moved here this week, we are giving it another shot).  I had a nice time, we had a lovely dinner at her aunt and uncles who spoke very highly of their adopted home.  Second Saturday was brought up more than once.  The next morning, Jess and I went to breakfast at Tower, then wandered around Old Town for a bit.  I ate a chocolate covered cricket at one of the candy stores.  Then I left.

   Thats it.  Until one week ago today, when I packed up my crap and moved here. . . . Sacramento. . . . .  Midtown. . . my new home.  I've decided to document and share my upheaval and subsequent discoveries, with all of you lovely people.  It's a unique situation I find myself in, had you told me 2 weeks ago that I would be here today I would have scoffed at the notion, and yet here I am, with an open mind and open heart.  Alright Sac. . . . show me what you've got.