On a Gilroy afternoon so hot I can see sweat dripping down the
thick skin of the fruit on the trees in my yard, I decide it’s high
time for a mental health day.
On a Gilroy afternoon so hot I can see sweat dripping down the thick skin of the fruit on the trees in my yard, I decide it’s high time for a mental health day. Putting everything else on hold, I hop in the car and end up in one of my favorite places just 40 miles south, Pacific Grove, or as the locals call it, “P.G.”
I travel past cottages painted in aqua, lavender, and celery green. My weary soul is relieved to see mist in the distance as my vehicle sails over the top of a rolling hill on its way down to the ocean.
The sea is deepest blue today, the tips of the waves sparkling with diamond-colored caps. The northernmost tip of P.G. is known as Asilomar, which means “refuge by the sea.” Sheltered by ancient Monterey pines, it extends over rolling sand dunes for one hundred acres.
Later on, after collecting shells along the shore, I venture into a grassy area next to The Little Chapel By-The-Sea, where the deer come to greet me. Six adults and four fawns born just this spring surround my car, bringing me to a stop. Close enough to touch, I see the coats of the fawns sprinkled with little white spots. They wrinkle their noses as they sniff everything curiously.
It is a peaceful place whose inhabitants share an eternal view of the sapphire sea. I wander past the graves of people connected to Nobel Prize-winning Salinas-born author John Steinbeck (1902-1968), such as Doc Ricketts’ parents (Charles Abbott and Alice Flanders) and John’s sister, Elizabeth Steinbeck Ainsworth (1894-1992).
This is the “pretty little cemetery where you can hear the waves drumming always” mentioned in “Cannery Row” (chapter III). I am reminded of how my grandmother used to talk of seeing Mrs. Steinbeck (John’s mother Olive) back in the old days of Salinas.
My grandparents were married the same year (1930) that Steinbeck married his bride, Carol, and brought her to the P.G. cottage built by his father that still stands on 11th Street. The couple lived on $25 a month while Steinbeck wrote “Tortilla Flat” and “Of Mice and Men.”
The Methodist Episcopal Church located downtown on Lighthouse Avenue was long considered the vital center of the P.G. community. Although demolished in 1963, the ghost of the grand Gothic church built in 1888 still lingers. Steinbeck wrote about the church in “Sweet Thursday,” and its image is preserved in the 1959 movie, “A Summer Place.” Post cards picturing it go for $13.95 on the Internet.
It once had a giant revolving lighted cross at the top that sailors could see for miles out to sea, reminding them of the safety and refuge of home.
After a long day of sea-gazing and tide pool hopping, it’s time for dinner at a favorite family restaurant called Chili Great Chili. Owned by an Egyptian family, and employing waiters from places such as Russia, it boasts an international cuisine. But to be honest, my friends and I rarely get past the clam chowder, which is the best we’ve ever tasted. And the fresh hot homemade sesame bread is heaven.
Just by chance, while writing this, I discovered that Chili Great Chili is built on the same location where the old Methodist Church once stood as the heart and soul of P.G. So here I am with friends and family still breaking bread in a place where once it was broken in other holy ways.
Although Steinbeck moved away, he returned many times during his life. Steinbeck found a spiritual home in Pacific Grove, and returned here when he needed to rediscover himself.
I drive back home, carrying stories of the past and the timeless sea with me.
