Up the coast to Ventura, CA

Saturday, October 9th, 2010
After a very pleasant day spent out to breakfast at Hash House a Go-Go, some time exploring San Diego’s Balboa Park, a fight over a souvenir pine cone, and some refreshment obtained from a demonstration on national physical abuse awareness day we decided the time had come to depart. We got in touch with John O’Brien’s brother-in-law Aaron Barta, headed through LA traffic, continued up the coast, and made it to Ventura, CA. There we were welcomed into a warm bed and a wonderful family, although Aaron’s wife Kate and youngest son Joseph were out of town. However the beautiful relationship between father Aaron and daughter Mercy, and son Kolbe, was something that I will not soon forget. The generosity and genuine love that we experienced here stemmed from a heart that is deeply at peace. Aaron is a man that inspired me to choose vocation, to make a decision in life. Yes the journey is good and will teach us much about ourselves, but the ultimate reality is that at the end we choose something to pour our lives into and must give it our best shot. For it is in pouring ourselves into something that we discover who we truly are and what we are capable of when we give all that we have.

Sunday, October 10th, 2010
While in Ventura, we decided not to go back down to LA, because there was not a whole lot to see, and we do feel that we will get there at some point in the future. Friday night before we had gotten in touch with Bridget Heffernan, who gave us a brief tour of Thomas Aquinas College, a unique institution nestled in the hills of central California, whose peaks overlook the ocean. We met at 7:15am on Sunday morning, and so had to leave Aaron’s place relatively early. Thus Daniel took a snooze in the car as we waited for Bridget to arrive. Shortly after we met and had our tour of campus, Bridget left for an opera in LA, and we stayed at the College for mass. We had about an hour before it began, however, so we took a hike up the mountain, which we later learned led to a three-walled painter’s chapel with a missing stained glass window. We never made it that far, but definitely enjoyed the surrounding cows, the strenuousness of the hills, and the bucolic nature of the hike.

As nine a.m. mass began, and I can honestly say that few times in my life have I ever beheld anything so beautiful. The mass was a reason in and of itself to become a priest, if only to get closer to the beautiful harmony of Latin and English liturgy that framed a sacrifice of the Eucharist more beautiful than anything I had ever seen before. The church building was an icon of marble and beautiful hardwood trim that commanded the silence and reverence that willingly entered its doors. We felt a bit out of place in our jeans as a majority of the faithful came in skirts and blouses for women, and slacks, shirts, and ties for men. Nonetheless, the greater impression was left by the sense of reverence and devotion of the young men and women, tutors (TAC’s course “teachers”), and friends and family. The sight was something beautiful and definitely inspiring to the Catholic vein that runs directly through my heart. When the mass was ended we met up with some friends of Bridget, who directed us to brunch in the College dining hall where we enjoyed a great sampling of the traditional breakfast fare. The conversation was good, and I can tell that all of the students we encountered are inspired by the methods and materials that are shaping their college education.

The main facilitator of learning at TAC is called the “tutor,” and for the very reason that you are probably thinking. Classes are generally based around the books or theory of a particular philosopher or theologian – take Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, or Descartes. Students are assigned readings, and then are expected to come to class ready to share their views on that particular reading. The tutors are there simply to facilitate discussion of the work at hand, and then to assign reinforcement activities such as papers or projects. One of the most interesting aspects of the TAC learning method goes by a name that I cannot recall. This was a requisite circumstance in which each student sits at the front of the class and the tutor makes verbal comments as to that particular student’s participation and contributions, as well as on ways that the student can improve. This may appear harsh by modern grading standards, but the effectiveness of immediate, verbal feedback cannot be discounted. I for one am guilty of providing verbal feedback that is almost invariably positive, and then providing the actual feedback only in written form. The TAC grading method provides a forum in which the tutor is encouraged to provide both positive encouragement and constructive criticism. The truth is that hearing the latter is one of the most effective ways for a student to integrate feedback. Think about how it seems that we always remember criticisms, be they good or bad, whereas praise invariably fades from our minds. Suffice it to say that our discussion with the five or so students over brunch was extremely stimulating and was encouraging insofar as my faith was restored that some educational institutions are moving in a positive direction.

Soon it came time for the students to head off and study, and even though the following day was a holiday, the campus went as silent as a lamb. So we wandered a little more, then headed off, up to Santa Barbara, where both the university and the beach were something to behold. Afterward we moved on down to the public beach where we relaxed and Dan made some calls home. The time here was a time to bask in the sun with the shirt off and hanging over the shoulder; knowing that the sun is burning the skin, but relishing the freedom of walking the beach barefoot and bare-chested at the beginning of October!

There are some days when I miss the fall, but California captivated my attention and my imagination. I suppose I could live here semi-permanently some day, but only after a couple of years from now. Back in Ventura, we made a trip to their beach, a beautiful, but windier and colder-watered version of the beauty of Santa Barbara. Next we hit up a market for some beverages and the ingredients for some guacamole. Thus we enjoyed a few cold ones, some Cincinatti-style chili, thanks to Aaron’s roommate Brian, and some movie time. “The Proposal” was infinitely more funny than I remembered it, now that we watched it in California, and the movies eventually gave way to good conversation in which we addressed questions of vocation, and came to a peace about life for a night. So we fell into the infinitely comfortable bed that we then shared.

Monday, October 11th, 2010
The night before, John O’Brien had invited us to a treat, and thus it was. We exchanged parting words and good wishes with Aaron, and then we headed out. Our destination – the Ojai Valley Inn and Spa – a beautiful, scenic expanse of several hundred acres, nestled in the same mountain range that embraces Thomas Aquinas College. Truly a beautiful resort complete with golf course, hot stone treatments, massages, pool, tropical birds, and any other relaxing and beautiful element that you could ever imagine. To John we are eternally grateful and look forward to returning to him in kind. We fully appreciated the situation and the only unfortunate occurrence, the bathroom had flooded when we entered it on our way out. But things were taken care of in short order, and paradise on earth was restored!

From the resort we acquired some gasoline and headed onward back toward Santa Barbara and beautiful Highway 1. We stopped a number of times to take in the breathtaking beauty of ocean below the highway, draped delicately across the cliffs and bridges that connect the entire coast from San Diego to the northern tip of Washington. Someday we will return and continue the journey, but this time, as dark fell, we hit construction. The delay ended up being kind of fun as we had to wait on a “pilot vehicle” for the second time this journey. The first time was a construction site on Indian Hwy 18 as we exited the Grand Canyon. This time there was a worker there from San José, who described his just short of retirement length career as a laborer. He was worried that he would not get enough hours for this year to qualify and thereby push him that much closer to the requisite number of years for retirement. I simultaneously marveled at the fact that we were conversing on Highway 1 in pitch darkness, apart from the blaring halogen construction lamp, overlooking the ocean. I do not think that I would ever want to retire from that job. As night continued to deepen, we decided to spend a night in Pfeiffer Big Sur National Park, a very dark place at night, but as it turned out a beautiful place in the morning.

Tuesday, October 12th, 2010
This day we were slated to arrive in San Francisco, but we had a few hundred miles and whole day ahead of us, and many beautiful things to behold. Dan caught up on sleep, and I toured the park in which we found ourselves. There turned out to be several redwood trees, and a nice cliff to scale on the opposite side of the just-a-bit-too-wide-to-ford creek that separated the overnight camping area from the day-use area. The wandering thoughtful walk was just what I needed.

Daniel awoke, and so off we went. Unfortunately, we did not know where to stop in Carmel and so bypassed one of the most beautiful beaches in California. The secret is that the white sand is trucked in from another location. The fabrication of a tourist destination in some ways, but in another, simply enhancing the beauty with which God has blessed a particular area of the world. The Pacific Coast Highway then carried us onward to Monterey, a gem of a town on an outlying peninsula of land. Once there and oriented, we hit up the Monterey International Institute, which I did not realize falls under the auspices of Middlebury College where I taught this past summer. Perhaps someone can better explain how the system works, but I had thought that Monterey preceded Middlebury as a language training school for the military. Later Middlebury established themselves in Vermont and began their domination of the language instruction industry here in the United States. The system is a front-runner in actual classroom-based language instruction, and their language pledge leads many to find success working in their respective languages. Obviously, as my career revolves around the languages, I was taken with the school, the library, and even picked up some information for future reference. Wandering through the common areas brought a thrill of different languages and cultures, and the joy of careers that rely on multicultural awareness and linguistic proficiency.

Once I tore myself away, we found one of few free parking spots in the city on top of the hill overlooking “Cannery Row,” the sardine-canning area immortalized by John Steinbeck in his novel of the same name. The area was interesting, and though we balked at entering the Aquarium this time, it is definitely something I can imagine doing in the future. I feel that this trip has in some ways been a preview of places to which I hope to return someday. From Cannery Row, we decided to rent bicycles, for one hour. We tore out of the place on the “comfort” bikes that ended up being a lot of what their title proclaimed and little speed. I felt the whole time as if my body was getting a massage, and it actually was not a bad way to view the island. But if you want to go fast, you may want to consider selecting a different bike. We raced from one end of the peninsula to the other, following the beach and the unwavering coastal Highway 1. Then we raced back in time for $1 tacos at Toritos with homemade tortillas, great fillings, and all the fixings you can imagine should adorn a good taco. Mexican food will never get old, and I am so happy that it gets so much better the further south and west you go.

At last we decided that we should probably head out. The light began to fail over the bay as we watched a television showdown between pitcher and batter in the bottom of the ninth. But Becky, Tim and Taylor were waiting in San Francisco (never “Frisco” to natives), and so onward we marched. We arrived at their place between nine and ten o’clock p.m. and quickly launched into conversation with three of the most intriguing people I have met in my life. Becky loves to read and very quickly set me up with a historical novel, and Tim loves to assemble violins and violas and so lent Daniel one of his creations to play. For the rest of the week, we relaxed, catching a few sights here and there, to be described in coming posts, but most of all relaxing and catching up our strength for the continuation of the voyage.

Reflection
I have begun reading a book given me by my mother called This Time I Dance! by a woman by the name of Tama J. Kieves and though not at the time, now I am completely okay with the moments in which we just need to stop running, stop moving, and allow the inner work to take place. This journey is an opportunity to open ourselves to many cultures as well as renew many relationships, and to just let the inner heart run wild with passion and hopes and dreams, thoughts and ideas for a future that could not look brighter. For my heart has more and more pertained to the present, has allowed itself to just be, to not be ashamed anymore for living life as I see fit. Tim, Becky, and Taylor were open to this, and our conversations inspired me to continue chasing the essential questions of my life, for I have not found the answers by staying where I was. We must walk out and seek them on our own. Once we understand what this entails, we must put in the work, and then open our hearts and our minds to the extraordinary dimensions that our lives will take on, almost of their own accord.