I had the privilege of spending Mother’s Day weekend in the town which my partner was born and raised. It’s a small town on the central coast of California called Guadalupe. I’ve joked with her because we have similar anxieties when engaging in small talk. Whenever I have to introduce myself, because my name is so unique, I am usually bracing for the followup questions surrounding my name — “What’s it mean?” “Where’s it from?” etc. Well, with my partner, it’s a similar situation when she’s asked, “Where are you from?” A lot of times, a response is given just to bypasses the question “it’s a small town on the central coast”, or some variation of that. Yes, it is, but as small as it is, it should not be minimized.
Guadalupe is farm town. It is literally responsible for feeding the nation, and many of the people live there are in some way connected to agriculture, or the fields. To many, it’s the first place they saw when they arrived from Mexico. Along with the many landmarks and stories she told when we would pass by an establishment or a specific point in the road, she said that at the train station, it was not uncommon to arrive in Guadalupe from a train coming from Mexico, looking for the person who was told by a cousin or friend that they had work available. As a friend of mine said, it is almost an ‘Ellis Island” experience for previous generations, one that will never be acknowledged by your common American. It doesn’t have to.
In this trip, I received the opportunity to know my partner better, as well as her family. My partner, who is an artist, showed me the murals by Judy Baca who helped mold her into who she has become today, which directly showed me the impact of what one’s work can have on another. It was a chance to see her family, her town, and what it means to be from Guadalupe. We also saw the surrounding towns of Pismo Beach, Grover Beach, Seal Beach, and the Guadalupe Dunes, which is an area where you can literally drive on the sand dunes at the beach. It was quaintness, solitude, and uniqueness all rolled into one.
It was a true California experience that not many Californians get to experience. At least I haven’t, and I’ve lived in California my entire life.
(An interesting note: These photos were taken by a Canon t50, 35mm film camera, which was handed down by my partner’s father.)
