Melinda Palacio
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| The Santa Barbara Amtrak Depot |
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| Santa Barbara |
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| All Aboard! |
The first thing I wanted to do after driving back to Santa Barbara from New Orleans was visit my sister. The parking lot on the 101 freeway gave me some reservation until my friend Lora suggested I take the train. A trip on the Pacific Surfliner was among the best presents I could have given to myself. Fellow Bloguero, Rene Colato Lainez took the train from Union Station in Los Angeles to Santa Barbara earlier this year with a group of writers. They did a mini writing residency on the nearly three-hour ride. When they set foot in Santa Barbara they were happy to briefly leave their lives behind in Los Angeles and enjoy a beautiful day in Santa Barbara. I was just as happy to make a similar trip last Sunday to Los Angeles.
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| Union Station, the Los Angeles Amtrak Depot |
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| You can go anywhere in the country from Union Station. |
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| Downtown L.A. |
I met my sister and Marley for lunch at Olvera Street. While there are plenty of better Mexican restaurants a little further away from the center of where it all began, El Pueblo de la Reina de Los Angeles, I enjoyed playing tourist for a day. We also had the pleasure of meeting fellow Bloguero, Michael Sedano, for lunch.
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| Inside Union Station |
Although we laughed and joked about Michael's last days on this earth (He goes back to surgery next week.), I expect Michael to not have
any visits with his ancestors or hiccups with his hospital visit. Earlier this year, a trip to the ER and OR caused him to miss the International Latino/Latina Studies conference in Chicago, where La Bloga also celebrated our 10th anniversary. This was the same conference I missed because I broke my leg last Summer.
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| Michael Sedano |
Sunday, the weather was picture perfect. I've always realized Union Station's stature. Although I grew up a few miles away, near Alameda Street, the train station frequently served as a backdrop for movies and television shows. Although my family rarely took the Amtrak to Del Rio, Texas, the station loomed in the background, on our way to Chinatown, Highland Park, or Pasadena. And as seen on TV or in the movies, I arrived to a sunny town lined with palm trees, mountains to my right and sky scrapers beyond Olivera Street, my lunch destination.
This first weekend of the new year, I may find myself on the train again, although the trip to Berkeley is much longer and not as direct as the ride to Los Angeles. On Sunday, January 4, I have the honor of reading at the benefit for Michele Serros at the Berkeley (my alma mater) Alumni House. If you are in the bay area, join us for a
dinner andfloricanto benefit for Michele Serros on Sunday.
Early in the Rutgers-Camden workshop we reflected on the auguring power of literary lists—what they can tell us about a story not-yet-unfolded, what they teach us about voice. We used, as our exemplars, the opening pages of Colum McCann's
Dancer, the extraordinary yield in Tim O'Brien's
The Things They Carried, and the evocative early pages of Rahna Reiko Rizzuto's
Hiroshima in the Morning. We heard:
What was flung onstage during his first season in Paris:
ten one-hundred-franc bills held together in a plastic band;
a packet of Russian tea;
... daffodils stolen from the gardens in the Louvre causing the gardeners to work overtime from five until seven in the evening to make sure the beds weren't further plundered;
... death threats;
hotel keys;
love letters;
and on the fifteenth night, a single long-stemmed gold-plated rose.
(McCann, extracted from a much longer list)
The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were P-38 can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wristwatches, dog tags, mosquito repellent, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of Kool-Aid, lighters matches, sewing kits, Military Payment Certificates, C rations, and two or three canteens of water.
(O'Brien, and this is merely the beginning of his brilliant catalog)
These are the things I packed:
— Twelve blank notebooks (paper is more expensive in Japan, or so I'm told);
— Three hundred tablets of Motrin IB and a bottle of 240 of the world's heaviest multivitamins;
— Forty-eight AA batteries in case my tape recorder dies mid-interview once a week, every week, for the six months I'll be away from home;
— Twenty-four copies of my first novel to give as omiyage;
— Two never-opened textbooks on how to read kanji.
(Rizzuto, a list then answered by a second titled: These are the things I know:)
All three lists featured here sit toward or at the very start of books—before we know plot or meaning, before w
I think that long lists in fiction take courage and skill.
This is interesting... It's inspired me to make a list in the POV of some of my new characters. I bet I will learn some important things about them.