It's the architecture, with the window and door trim painted a very particular blue, the palm trees peeking over the tiled roof. It's the flagstone lane and the almost invisible Spanish tile set into the base of whatever it is that he's sitting on. A planter, perhaps. It's that there are parents young enough to have a child this age who would put that t-shirt on their daughter and top it off with the floppy hat. It's that she was not afraid or shy to go to where Jim was singing—in front of people—to clap. And it's that Jim would welcome her there, not feeling upstaged. That's my California, and I miss it. I miss the small things that are in this picture even more than I miss the ocean.
This was taken in the Spanish Village in Balboa Park, in San Diego. If you live anywhere near there, you should go. This is Jim's last Friday to perform there, and everyone should hear him at least once. He's fantastic, and his music will enchant you. He'll be there from 11:00am to 4:00pm today, and on Thursdays throughout the month of August.
An interesting side note is that Jim and I were born on exactly the same day, same year. I think that's pretty cool.
__________
Photo by Cheryl Sanders Hinton
