This one was so much fun. Blue and Gold, Blue and Gold, everywhere you look, Blue and Gold.
From the article:
How can you not love Santa Cruz? It’s like a wax museum with a pulse, to paraphrase modern-day philosopher Vincent Vega. Banana Slugs and terrible Shakespeare (who the hell else would do King Lear wearing nothing except for barbed wire and the metal cap from an electric chair. I can think of 10,000 other ways to waste my time than that head-banging garbage…) and a throwback to the days where Haight talked politics with Ashbury, “Hair” wasn’t just a musical but a way of life, and smog was caused by patchouli, it’s the ’60s, then, now and forever.
Yet I wasn’t here for the surfing, or Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitt and David Lindley at the Catalyst, or even a ride on the ancient wooden roller coaster. I was here for a peaceful, restful day of golf at venerable old Alister Mackenzie’s home, Pasatiempo, and for a mini-reunion with my oldest college friend, Reba.
