1996, June

I remember after 6th grade graduation, the church I went to used to do these Tuesday night bible studies at the beach. I was still a San Diego boy back then.

I don't remember too much about it. I do remember my parents driving me to the church, we'd take a big school bus to the beach, and we'd spend time on the beach, set up a bonfire, and do the bible study from there.

This memory stands out to me as the epitome of what San Diego was when I left. The amber sunset, and the way a bright shade of gold-orange tinted everything. The glow from the golden ocean. The homes closest to the beach being draped in sunset. It was beautiful. I'd spend time riding a board on the waves, constantly crashing, but feeling alive. Just me and the ocean.

In San Diego, I always preferred my own company. I had a hard time getting along with people because I was pretty much a blatant asshole. I remember few things about these nights. I remember one night while we were all hanging out on the beach, Jr. Seau was walking with his wife or girlfriend, and we were all flipping out. I remember another night that I borrowed a girl's sweater because I was freezing. I accidentally got ketchup on it from one of the hot dogs, and I planned to hide it from her at first, but eventually told her. She was a spanish girl, and I thought she was going to kick my ass, but she was cool with it.

Why does this memory stick out to me? Because it's what San Diego was when I left. Of course I remember the beautiful weather, the vibrant colors and my childhood, but nothing was really as beautiful as the sunsets out west. In New York, we have sunrises, but even those don't compare to California's in my mind. New York sunsets have the same colors, but it still wasn't like San Diego.

I had just graduated elementary school. The first girlfriend I ever had (Elizabeth) dumped me, and I had a fun summer ahead of me. But for now, the Tuesday night beach nights stand out the most for how well I remember the scenery.