Thoughts on a Hometown That Was Not My Home (October 26, 2006)

7 years! That is how long I have told my wife about TOO FATS Sandwiches. 7 years, I have told Kellee that we would venture up to Bakersfield and feast on my favorite the Too Fats Special, as well as show her my summer and 7th grade stomping grounds. Going has always eluded us. Its not that we haven't tried, but every time we set a date some other plan comes up that has taken priority. However, today was the day. I would be deterred no longer; Bakersfield it was.

Bakersfield has always held a special place in my heart. Due to the Fond memories? Of course; my grandparents moved there when I was 4 or 5, and bought themselves a little antique store in the downtown area. My summers were filled with old ladies pinching my cheeks, listening to the men tell their WWII stories, and watching my grandfather being friendly to the local crazies.

However, B-Town was not all jollies and good times. It was the place of lost innocence and where depravity took over. It was there that I had my first encounter with the ladies, and my first experience finding out what cheap alcohol like Strawberry Hill would do to a youngling. Bakersfield was the place where I first witnessed Racism; as I stood at the arcade and watched 25 white Hessians chase a young black man with the intent to kill him, all for playing games at "their" arcade.

It was this town where I had to watch a loved one fall into years of peril, and had to sit by her bed side as she clung to life after she tried to take it. Eventually, it would be where I would stand next to my grandfather's hospital bed and watch him exit from this life.

In fact, I have not been back since my grandfather's funeral. My grandmother moved immediately afterwards and I have never really had any reason to go back. That is until now. Now I have been able to share and remember part of my life with the other part of my life.

I thought I would be shocked and baffled about how much things have changed over 10 years. Sure, there are new Wallmarts and Starbucks, some of the shops have changed ownership, and Buck Owens moved the Bakersfield sign from the ghettos of Union Street over to his bar now located on Buck Owens Boulevard. The Castle arcade where most my mischief took place was now a vacant memory and a new shopping mall erected in its stead.

Yet, with all that I was actually more surprised at how things have remained the same. The senior park where my grandparents lived looked much the same. Downtown, though it has a lot more bars, still has not lost it's old town touch and has kept a lot of the antique stores and other small businesses.

Overall going back to the dustbowl that is called Bakersfield was a joyful experience that had my mind blossoming with memories of past family, friends, and experiences that I had all but forgot.

Bakersfield sign moved.


In front of my grandparents old place.

Me in front of the Bakersfield Sign and Next to Buck Owen's Bar.

This building use to be my grandparent's Antique Store; The Foliage Farm