California Gold
There comes a point in every adult's life when you realize that some obscure aspect has greatly shaped who you are today. Something that you didn't fully grasp at the time. Today it hit me like a ton of bricks.
My father and I would watch old reruns of the show California Gold. A show hosted by Tennessee native, ex-Marine, and closeted gay man Huell Howser, where he would roam California, interviewing regular folks and shining the spotlight on many of the unpolished gems of California. Huell was tall, and his accent was thick. He buttered most of his interviews with “that's amazing.” He practically invented and perfected the human piece journalism (in my opinion). A simple concept show that got six different spin offs. My father and I would mimic Huell's contagious accent until the TV would switch over to Dateline: To Catch a Predator. A bizarrely bad choice to watch with your daughter, but hey, a predator never got me, and believe me, I was on the lookout for one of those sons of guns.
In one of Huell's adventures, he visits Tustin. It was like my two loves miraculously came together. Growing up in Tustin was everything you could ever want in a childhood. People were friendly. Beautifully manicured lawns are basically the mascot of Tustin. I would often brag to anyone who would listen that I was a fourth generation Tustinite (a word that, in my mind, I coined). Tustin was safe, but it wasn't a boring cookie-cutter like Irvine. It's unincorporatedly perfect.
Huell visited Mrs. B's consignment store, a family-owned second hand store and post office dating back to 1999. When I was living in Tustin, scraping pennies together and worrying about my next meal, I would often peruse her store. I was probably the customer from hell (spent hours there, but never actually bought anything), and one time she actually gave me a 1920s art deco compact mirror for free.
Well, to turn a fluff piece article into something depressing, I found out today that Mrs. B's consignment store is closing. I feel the same way I did when Huell died. This was a place that radiated warmth. Something I’m craving now especially.
