You Can Go Home Again

Willie is an old, sweet, near-crippled white labrador...



...who greets you at the door of my sister Susan's house in the Central Coast town of Arroyo Grande.



Last week I visited, partly to help out my brother-in-law and cool nephews in some of their agricultural labors.



They were all a pleasure in every respect, and so were their dogs, including ancient Annie above and hyperactive young Yoda below.



They were hosting a huge family and friends Thanksgiving, and I escaped back onto Amtrak the day before the event.



One afternoon I went to the Fair Oaks movie theater downtown, which was my childhood magic movie palace. Bizarrely and delightfully, it has not changed since, with music instead of ads before the previews, and a single screen devoted to a single movie. It was a kick seeing 1957-1960 period detail onscreen during Bridge of Spies in a movie theater which I actually frequented in 1959-1960. You can go home again, it seems, at least through movie theaters stuck in time.