San Francisco, Part 1

I’m not sure when I first became aware of California. Maybe I saw it on TV. Or maybe on a box of raisins. No, I think it was the Beach Boys. I was a young boy at a seaside resort in England, and music was playing. It spoke of a far off world, a mystical place where people stood on polished wooden boards and somehow rode on the waves. I’d never seen waves like that on an English beach—or at least, not on a sunny day.