Costa Mesa is still home sweet home
I’d love to tell you that we could have chosen to purchase our new
home anywhere in the county, but that’s not true. We did find fault
with some elite communities, however, and regardless of the price
tag, I doubt we would have considered a community such as Villa Park.
That’s just too far from the beach.
In our efforts to find a new home, we considered communities all
over the county. We thought about Huntington Beach and decided it is
too big. Irvine is too boring, and Fountain Valley is too, well,
there’s no there there. Santa Ana is too citified, and Laguna Beach
is just too odd.
We also decided not to spend the millions we made from our
WorldCom investment in a home in Newport Beach for fear of giving the
wrong impression. Instead, we’re going to use our WorldCom stock
certificates to cover my office walls. It’s cheaper than wallpaper.
So after all the discussion, after all the travel and all the
advice, we chose to stay in good ol’ Costa Mesa. This town is like my
basketball shoes. They may not look perfect, but man, are they a
great fit.
Our decision was rewarded with a notice two weeks after we moved
in that this week the city would be coming around on a “large item”
pickup by the hard-working trash collectors. Our driveway had the
usual two cans of refuse, but on Thursday, the guys also hauled away
10 sliding closet doors, several large cardboard boxes filled with
stuff we should not have moved from our old house, a vacuum cleaner
that may not have been ready for the dump, some sort of steel gate
that the old owner kept for reasons unknown and two metal trashcans
that over time had themselves become trash.
The metal trashcans were a dicey issue. After all, despite the
rather large holes in the bottom of each one, they were filled with
junk, serving, still, as trashcans. Cay and I wondered whether the
trash collectors would dump the trash and leave the old cans or just
throw everything away.
To remove any doubt, I decided to put a note on each can, asking
that they be thrown out along with the trash. It was one of the times
when I actually wanted someone to throw out the baby with the bath
water. These babies were in bad shape.
But before I got a chance to leave the notes, the trash collectors
had arrived and were stuffing our junk in the truck. The notes were
unnecessary, for years of experience left them no doubt that the cans
needed to be canned.
Watching them throw trashcans in the trash, I was reminded of the
joke comedian Lily Tomlin used to tell about the guy who buys a small
trashcan for his bathroom and takes it home in a plastic bag. When he
gets home, he takes the can out of the bag, sets it on the floor,
then puts the plastic bag in the trashcan.
Our next reward was the periodic newsletter from the city of Costa
Mesa.
Among the assorted news was an alert that the city was giving away
trees. In an effort to beautify an otherwise good-looking town, the
city, for a limited time, is handing our free trees.
The program seems to be pretty popular. We’ve put in our order and
won’t get the trees until mid-September because of high demand. The
city’s Joe Bogart has been instrumental in dispelling any myths about
government workers. He is prompt, courteous and knowledgeable,
according to Cay, who has been working with him to get the trees.
“Arlene” at the city’s Parks and Recreation Department is also
prompt, courteous and knowledgeable, also according to Cay. At this
time, Arlene is trying to find some vacancies for our kids for the
immensely popular Camp Costa Mesa, a day camp in which kids have too
much fun.
Camp Costa Mesa is so popular that the day reservations are taken,
parents wait starting at dawn to secure spots.
A few days ago, camp Costa Mesa’s activities included a
demonstration of a drug-sniffing dog during which, apparently, real
marijuana was hidden and subsequently sniffed out by this wonder dog.
I doubt that my kids had ever seen real pot until that day, and I’m
not happy that someone chose the camp to show it to them. The camp
should be for fun stuff like skinned knees and volleyball, not drug
awareness.
But that’s life here in Costa Mesa. There is always something. And
where else would you read about a guy getting so excited about his
trash?
* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer.
Readers may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at
(949) 642-6086.
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