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Blog

Where All Your Yesteryears Are

Buried Deep
The future lives in a cloud, formidable from a
distance

Photo: John P. Weiss

 
It seems I am stranded again.
 
Strangers are prowling around my home, exploring its rooms and
decor and circling the backyard pool. They point at things and
discuss details. I know this thanks to the security cameras that
link to my smartphone. 
 
My wife and I recently put our house on the market, having
decided to downsize a bit. We seldom use our pool, and we're
tired of the landscaping maintenance and overall expense. We
hope to move nearby to a simpler house with a view of the Las
Vegas strip.
 
Yesterday we were displaced twice as our realtor met with
potential buyers. It's quite a production, gathering our two dogs
and cat, quickly prepping the house for viewing, and then fleeing
to my mother-in-law's vacation house nearby. 
 
This morning my realtor phoned and said one of yesterday's
clients was interested in a second look. "Could you be out in an
hour?" she asked. I gulped down the last of my coffee, leashed up
the dogs, and eyed the cat. Somehow the cat smelled a rat and
darted off into the bedroom.
 
Cats can be difficult that way.
 
I eventually fished the cat out from under the bed and slid him,
butt first into his cat carrier. He wasn't happy, but then, neither
was I. All of this real estate maneuvering and juggling of pets
keeps me from my writing and creative work.
 
And it's not just the temporary inconveniences. Knowing you'll
soon be leaving one home for another invites a sort of liminal
state. You feel unsettled, and unmoored, and sense the
porousness of boundaries. The uncertainty of the future.
 
So here I am, temporarily displaced at my mother-in-law's
vacation house. It's a lovely place, and I'm thankful that it's close
by. But it's also chilly and too quiet since no one is presently
staying here.
 
Homes are not homes without the people you love in them.
 
As I type these words, the dogs are napping on the sofa. The cat,
who I released inside a small guest room,  is vigorously pawing
the door and endlessly meowing. It's quite distracting, but then,
that's his objective. 
 
Thankfully, there's Internet access and I have the passcode. I sit
back, jockeying the MacBook on my lap, and close my eyes.
Where have I been, what is this middling place, and where am I
headed? 
 
I roll these questions over in my mind.
 
The future lives in a cloud, formidable from
a distance
 
Last week I was in California to give a eulogy for a close friend's
mother who passed away (read about it here
(https://view.flodesk.com/emails/63f98299ca0a82454342b83d?
_gl=1*16d7clm*_ga*MzQ0MzkxMjAuMTY3Nzk4NDAyMQ..*_ga_SHJD
 
I stayed a few days with my friends and then tried to drive home,
but winter weather and snow closed all the routes back (watch a
video I shot of the snow here
(https://www.instagram.com/reel/CpUOZKjDhGH/?
utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)). Stranded in Northern California,
I considered lodging in Los Gatos, the town I grew up in. I thought
it would be fun to drive into the hills and up Hidden Drive, where
my childhood home is now occupied by a wealthy woman who
bought the property from my mother not long after Dad passed
away. 
 
But I changed my mind. 
 
My childhood home is still standing, but no one from my family,
my past, lives there anymore. I thought of George Webber.
 
In Thomas Wolfe's novel, "You Can't Go Home Again," the writer
George Webber comes to realize that we can never fully “go back
home to your family, back home to your childhood…away from all
the strife and conflict of the world…back home to the old forms
and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which
are changing all the time.” 
 
If you can't go home again, then how about the place where you
spent your career? I considered booking a hotel room in Scotts
Valley, where I have in-laws, friends, and 26 years of devoted
service in the police department. After all, I enjoy my family and
friends there and know the town intimately.
 
But for some reason, it didn't feel right.
 
Scotts Valley has changed. Almost no one I know is left in the
police department where I used to work. The town looks and
feels different. It's a beautiful community full of wonderful people,
but I don't belong there anymore. Perhaps I miss the past too
much and going back tethers me securely to memories when
what I need to do is keep moving forward.
 
Towards new memories. New homes.
 
“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived
in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep,
leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you
can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you
remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem
safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud,
formidable from a distance.”—Beryl Markham, West with the
Night
 
And so I settled on the coastal town of Carmel, where I often
vacationed with my parents. Being stranded in Carmel isn't so
bad. There are countless art galleries, fine restaurants, beaches,
and opportunities for me to shoot some street photography.
 
 Downtown Carmel, California. Photo by John P. Weiss
 
My wife is far more talented with travel arrangements than I am,
and she was kind enough to research local accommodations and
book me in a cozy hotel room with a fireplace. The first day in
Carmel was raining and chilly, and I felt a touch of melancholy. So
many fond memories of relaxing with my folks on the beach,
exploring art galleries, and dining together.
 
“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can
go as we are and not be questioned.”—Maya Angelou, All God's
Children Need Traveling Shoes
 
But happily, the melancholy lifted the minute I picked up my
rangefinder-style camera and began shooting candid photos of
my surroundings. By the second day, the sun came out and I was
thoroughly enjoying myself, wandering and shooting
photographs.
 
The more I explored and snapped street photographs, the more I
realized the therapeutic value of a creative practice like
photography.
 
Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels
like
 
My parents and I always enjoyed the tasty bakeries in Carmel, so I
ambled into one and ordered a coffee and cookies. They did not
disappoint. I could almost hear my mother's voice laughing as she
nibbled on a croissant, and my father's voice warning us not to
ruin our dinner appetites. 
 

Photo I took in the Carmel Bakery of my coffee and cookies

 
All around me there were tantalizing baked goods and treats, and
people pleasantly chatting and enjoying themselves. The display
window was overflowing with delicious offerings, and I raised my
camera to capture some of the mouthwatering morsels in the
window.
 
 Treats in the Carmel Bakery window
 
When I lowered my Fuji X-Pro 3 rangefinder camera, I noticed a
gentleman staring longingly at the baked goods in the window
display. It looked like he was about to stroll inside and satisfy his
craving, but then a woman snaked her arm around his and lured
him away down the street. When I took this man's photograph, I
recalled the following quote by photographer David Alan Harvey: 
 
"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."
 

The man outside the bakery window, longingly looking inside

 
After my coffee and cookies, I took to the streets and happened
upon a lovely garden sculpture of the Loch Ness monster. The
best part was the hat that Nessie was wearing. It reminded me of
some of the old golf hats my father used to wear. 
 

My photo of the Loch Ness monster wearing a stylish hat

 
I meandered in and out of many galleries, enjoying conversations
here and there with the proprietors. The artwork rekindled my
desire to get back to landscape painting this year.
 
I visited the intimate, bohemian gallery of Joaquin Turner
(http://www.joaquinturner.com), but it was closed. I met Joaquin
a few years ago in the gallery and bought one of his pieces. On
this day, all I could do was take a photo of the old paint boxes in
his gallery window. 
 
 Paint boxes inside the Joaquin Turner art gallery window display. Photo:
John P. Weiss
 
Later, I strolled by the Carmel Fire Station and took a photo of
their roll-up doors from across the street. I interacted and
worked with many firefighters over the years in my law
enforcement career, and have great respect for the men and
women of the fire service.
 

My photo of the Carmel Fire Station

 
 Carmel Fire Department engine later that night, returning from a call for
service
 
I took a break in the late afternoon to enjoy another coffee at the
Carmel Plaza. I was struck by the contrast of young people sitting
across from me, enjoying the sunshine and coffee. And adjacent
to them sat an older couple, also enjoying the day.
 
Memories of shopping with my parents in the Plaza floated
through my mind, and I felt a kind of deep warmth and
happiness. Our yesteryears may be buried deep, and it may be
important not to live in the past, but sometimes those old
memories invite feelings of love and joy. 
 
 Young couple, enjoying coffee in the Carmel Plaza
 

Young men, enjoying the sun and coffee at the Carmel Plaza
 
 An older couple, enjoying coffee and sun at the Carmel Plaza
 
I ended my second day in Carmel by driving down Highway 1 to
an outdoor shopping center at the base of Carmel Valley. Despite
all the multi-million dollar homes and wealthy people who reside
in Carmel, there are others just trying to survive along the margins
of society. I parked next to a run-down old truck and noticed an
older fellow dead asleep inside.
 

Man sleeping in his truck-Carmel, California

 
It looked like he might live in his truck, and he reminded me that
perhaps we're all in transition. Going from one place, or home, to
another.
 
Across the parking lot, a woman seated outside a Starbucks was
lost in her phone as her little dog, decked out in a checkered vest,
surveyed his surroundings. A gentleman inside the Starbucks,
seated at a window, appeared to be praying. I wondered who, or
what he was praying for.
 

Woman with dog, and man praying. Carmel, CA. Photo: John P. Weiss
 
I ended the day back in Carmel, where I shot the below self-
portrait in the public restroom on the third floor of the Carmel
Plaza before I enjoyed dinner at a local establishment.
 
 
Inclement weather may have prevented me from driving home to
Nevada, and at first, I felt inconvenienced. But as my wife often
says, "We do not live in a coincidental universe."
 
Maybe things happen for a reason. Perhaps, after eulogizing
someone dear and mourning with friends, I needed this time in
Carmel. I needed to be alone, to reminisce, and to mingle among
strangers with my camera, documenting the beautiful stories and
rhythms of everyday life.
 
Home is people. Not a place
 
As luck would have it, the roads home were finally opened,
thanks to the hard work of emergency responders and CalTrans
workers. It felt good to be home again, with my wife, son, dogs,
and spoiled cat. 
 
This brings me back to today, sitting at my mother-in-law's
vacation home, ruminating about all the past homes I've lived in.
 
I thought about Hidden Drive, where I grew up with my sister in
my parents' home. I used to build tree houses and fasten rope
swings and pretend to be Tarzan in the woods. 
 
There were my dorm rooms at University. Each one was
distinctively mine, but temporary. And yet they hold pleasant
memories of late-night studying, beer busts, and laughter. 
 
There were a few rented apartments early in my police career,
and eventually, a lovely condo that is still perhaps my favorite
home. My wife and I raised my son there and enjoyed birds,
squirrels, and raccoon visits on the deck. And later, when my
mother moved to assisted living, we sold the condo and moved
into her house. 
 
Later, I retired from the police department in California and we
moved to Southern Nevada, into our current home. My mother
followed us, finding a wonderful assisted living nearby. Home for
my mother was wherever her family was.
 
“Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the
people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there
anymore.”—Robin Hobb, Fool's Fate
 
Turns out I was never stranded.
 
My time in California was an important reminder that while we
can never quite go home again, we can certainly visit and
remember. We can help old friends in their time of need. We can
wander the Carmel streets we enjoyed with our parents, and
smile at the memories. 
 
And even when the time comes to move on from one home to
another, we can rest assured that we are never really stranded so
long as we have our loved ones around, either physically or in
spirit. 
 
Change is one constant in an ever-changing universe, but so is
the love of family. And wherever your family resides, that's home.

 
  
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Comments

30 Responses to Where All Your Yesteryears Are Buried

Deep

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189869) Always Love

Your Letters and
Pictures... So
Much Knowledge
and
Understanding....
I too have been
struggling with
moving from
California... but I
have no other
family to go see
or visit... and at
76 years old its ha
has Killed My Busi
Regulations... so I
Even with a Two M
Commissions and
expected... Still, I v
Way through Your
JohnofSJ....

Posted by Johny Thom

ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189870) Oh John, this is

sooo beautiful! I
love your writing
and always learn
something or am
brought to
'pause' by your
words. This one
is especially
beautiful, mostly
because of a
now empty
family-of-origin
home and the
difficult job of
going through a
lifetime's worth
of junk and
memories there.
Thank you as
always for the
smiles,
inspiration and
invitation to slow
down while your
words delight,
provoke, nudge,
stimulate and
educate me.
Love from Ireland

Posted by Ashleigh To
(https://johnpweiss.co

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189871) John I have

always enjoyed
your writing;
however, I never
supported your
work until today
when I purchased
2 of your books
and am very
much looking
forward to
receiving and
reading them.
Please keep the
wonderful of your
words coming for
many many years
to come Thank
You, Stuart

Posted by Stuart E
Ward
(http://3819Germantow
· via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 1 day ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189872) A pleasant twist

and happy
ending to one of
many detours life
throws at us.
Thanks for
sharing the sunny
side of what
looked to be a
sad, sorrow filled
weekend. Jarrod

Posted by Jarrod Starr

· via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189873) Thank you! I

enjoy your art
and writings
often”¦.they
resonate. I sold
my home and
studio 2 years
ago, but rent near
by for health
reasons. I go by
the house, pools (
which I swam in
daily) and studio
often..feelings of
love for the home
and 30 + years
there. Soon I will
move hours
away. I've loved
the memories
and the necessity
of not yanking
myself away
from all that I've
loved”¦knowing
next will be
different yet
better! We are
each so different!
Happy new
beginnings.

Posted by Kathy
strickland
(http://Tait.com) · via
johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 1 day ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189874) Write another

comment . . .
Posted by Kathy strick
(https://johnpweiss.co

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189875) Thought-
provoking,
hopeful and a bit
melancholy, I
enjoyed my brief
visit to the snowy
west coast this
morning. Thank
you. Over here in
the mid-Atlantic,
we've been
experiencing an
exceedingly mild,
snowless winter.
Curious about
you posting the
entire article in
email. Is that's
new? As a
designer who
publishes a
monthly blog,
isn't the aim
always to have
people go to your
website?
Genuinely
curious about
your tactics as
you've written
about trying
varied strategies
in the past. Good
luck with selling
your home.

Posted by Evelyn
Powers
(http://2649N.UpshurS
· via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 1 day ago
(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189877) I do believe this is
one of your best!
But there have
been many bests
in my following of
your writing. This
resonates with
me because of
my age (73) and
having only
moved a few
times but within
my hometown
area and
adjoining county
as well. So not
far! But what you
talked about is
such good
advice. We take
with us all that
has transpired in
the past. We left
nothing behind!
We have it with
us in our
memories and
our hearts. Thank
you for the
reminder.

Posted by Marsha
Hamby Savage
(http://www.marshasa
· via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 1 day ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189878) This one hit hard

- I grew up in San
Jose in the 60's
and 70's. It
certainly isn't the
place it was from
my childhood, tho

Posted by Judie · via jo

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189881) I can so relate to

everything in this
article, the
moving, showing
the house, going
back to where
you used to live,
work, etc. Yes,
everything
changes,
including losing
your youth and
aging, losing
family and
friends.
Sometimes it's
hard to accept,
but you must,
and move on.
Think about the
present. These
are the -good old
days” ,
something we
rarely realize.

Posted by Janet
Kerrigan · via
johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 1 day ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189882) So beautifully
written! Once
again, I felt that it
was what I could
appreciate most
at this time. We
are also in
transition to a
new home, so tha
Thank you for sha
creativity. I live no
memories and tee
newer places. In g
wife's saying "We

Posted by Diane Malik

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189884) Hi John, a well

written depiction
of the realities of
life. We carry the
memories with
us while the
places change.
Indeed, we can
never go back
home. We can
never cross the
same river
twice......but we
can keep the
good memories.
They keep us
sane, stable and
forever grateful.

Posted by Rhoda · via

johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 1 day ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189885) I'm glad you

made it home
safe and sound.
There are a lot
worse places in
California to be
stranded for a
couple of days
than Carmel.
Especially for an
artist like yourself
places I used to liv
of neighbors and f
but the place whe
favorite place to b

Posted by Ron Kellehe

(https://johnpweiss.co

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189886) Beautiful. One of

your best! And
you many great
ones”¦

Posted by Ivonne
Schulman · via
johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 1 day ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189887) Dear John thanks

for such beautiful
article. Yes, home
is where your
heart is.. I have
moved many
times in my life,
not only from
state to state but
from continent to
continent and its'
not always easy
to adapt to new
country, new
language, new
culture, but
always possible
to make new
friends and start
a new life.
Currently, I am a
real estate agent
in France and I
wonder why in
the USA. people h
selling their house
stays in the house
It makes the affair
interchange with t
rules and tradition
article is deep and
many areas of our
.

Posted by Martha Saav

(https://johnpweiss.co

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189888) Your writing was

illuminating and
resonated within.
The pictures
were an apt
counterpoise to
the meditative
text. The more I
read you and
readers'
comments, I
realize the
commonality of
the human bond
that binds us
together,
irrespective of
race, religion, or
nationality. More
power to your
pen, and may the
force be with you
!

Posted by Raj Nair ·

via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 1 day ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189889)
John, thank you for this beautiful prose and for sharing all those
wonderful photos. Good luck in selling your house and I wish you
good health and happiness in your new home.

Posted by Phyllis Iervello · via johnpweiss.com (https://johnpweiss.com) · 23 hours

ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189890) A house is not a

home unless ****
is the traditional
quote. I would
word that as: A
house is only a
home when your
loved ones are
there; or at least
close enough for
easy visitation.
Houses are
'things' and
homes are much
more than that.
Our destinies are
to leave fear (and
things) behind
and start our
journey toward
unconditional
love. Never
forget that life is
a journey, so a
process, and
should not be
anchored by
things. Most of
us do not see the
essential wisdom
in the Dali
Lama's quote:
"We should love
humans and use
money; not love
money and use
people." Money is
a set of lies that w
Believing lies resu
yours!

Posted by Jesuis Laplu

Laplume/e/B00DCFM
hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189891) A House Is Not A

Home "A chair is
still a chair Even
when there's no
one sitting there
But a chair is not
a house And a
house is not a
home When
there's no one
there to hold you
tight, And no one
there you can kiss
good night." Lyrics
by Hal David and
Music by Burt
Bacharach Your
narrative John,
reminds of this
iconic song first
heard in 1967.
Burt past on Feb.
8th, at age 94.
The passing of a
musical genius
who captured the
soundtrack of our
lives. Thanks for
reminding us all
of the most
important things
in life!

Posted by Richard ·
via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189892) Great piece.

Particularly
relevant to my
wife and I we are
firmly in our
twilight years.

Posted by Tom · via

johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 21 hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189893) Remembering
past for me is
fun, but I do
forget the pain of
sometimes. Is
that just me
getting old?
Thanks for
helping me to
remember past
times John.

Posted by Charles ·
via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 21 hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189896) Thank so much

for this John. We
have just moved
from France
(where we
married and
called home for
50 years) to
California (where
I grew up and
went to the
grade school
around the
corner) I have a m
tenuous and poro
become "yours" in
have their own liv
used to not having
have their families
childhood buddie
is really that peop
time to get to kno
lives. . Wishing yo
neighbors...and ne
here for 2 months
call it "home"...Ho
Atlantic, even if lo

Posted by Julie Tave · v

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189897) "home is where

the heart is." It's a
wall hanging I
have...After my
husband died, I
felt that I had no
home anymore
without him..
Physically I do
but mentally not
so much..this
was 4 years ago, i
have family
nearby but never
the same.

Posted by carol
grigus
(http://www.carolgrig
· via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 18 hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189898) Beautifully
written as
always. Home is
where we are tog

Posted by Sharon Rah

hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189899) My dear wife and

me are in our
mid seventies,
have spent a lot
of time, effort
and money
making our
house a home
that we really like
and want to
continue to live
in, but it's getting
too much to deal
with now. The
expense of the
pool, the upkeep
of the
landscaping, etc,,
However, we
keep asking
ourselves, "
Where can we
go? Where
would we want
to live other than
here?". I enjoyed
reading your
article. It's
another
perspective. All
the best.

Posted by
vikingz2000 · via
johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 17 hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189900)
I enjoyed this post and last week's written while stranded. The
imperfection of last week's piece was actually rather refreshing. And
it was enjoyable to hear the story behind the images this week.
Thank you.

Posted by Michelle (https://www.paperblogging.com/) · via johnpweiss.com

(https://johnpweiss.com) · 16 hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189901) This was very

very good. I read
you each week
but somehow
there seemed to
be something
quite special
about this one. (
as well as the
pictures) I was
moved to
comment which I
rarely do online. I
just wanted to
thank you.

Posted by Debbie
Boxer · via
johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 15 hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189902) I can't exactly

complain about
"going home"
issues. To
acquire the
house I live in, I
spent half of my
oldest son's 3rd
birthday
watching my
signature go
from
recognizable and
neat to
something like a s
Before that, it was
is in your old tow
ice (=snow) snow
Nevada... they can

Posted by Richard Bee

ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189903) I'm very glad to

have read this
thought-
provoking piece.
I have confused
time and place
with home and
have suffered
mentally due to
my own inability
to understand
my present
.Thank you for
helping me think
things through
John,

Posted by Peter
Parfitt
(https://peterparfitt.su
· via johnpweiss.com
(https://johnpweiss.co
· 11 hours ago

(https://johnpweiss.com/comment/189906) This is one of

your best
columns to date.
So much of it
resonated
deeply within
me, and I felt you
were speaking
just to me. You
write beautifully
and are such a
down-to-earth
 guy. Thank you fo

Posted by Dona Pearc

minutes ago

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