The maps of our memories fray like fine gauze
By Jim Miller
We are where we are from. Place, our place or “home,” gives us a sense of rootedness and identity, but it is also transient, always moving and changing as we ride the river of time and space.
Some places are fundamentally grounded in a central idea of what “home” is, of what defines a locality—the people in such places hold fast, perhaps futilely, to some notion of what it means to be there.
Not us though, not here in San Diego where history and tradition outside of empty tourist spectacles are cast off like a snakeskin and our sense of place is transformed by the whims of boosters and marketing schemes, sometimes erasing whole communities in the service of civic marketing.
The political and economic reality of this is a kind of top-down class war where the Disneyfication of select areas of the city, downtown in particular, results in the wholesale dislocation of the poor and homeless and the eradication of the last vestiges of grit.