For each of us not blessed with being born natives of Sonoma there is a corresponding back story to our arrival. An “origin myth,” as they say in the screen trade. I’ve rewritten mine so many times I can hardly remember the facts, though I suspect this was probably my forgotten intention.
My back story, so far as I can recall, had something to do with Los Angeles, a reignited romance and an unused return ticket. I won’t waste ink on the specifics (we can catch up over a glass of wine sometime, if you really need to know), since my origin myth would scarcely rank a footnote in the Collective Annals of Sonoma Origin Myths, if there were such a thing. And there kind of is: I’ve been collecting local origin myths since I arrived in the fall of ’05. I seek them out, tease them from casual conversation, bask in their back stories and catalog the dramatis personae. These informal, informational interviews reveal all manner of motives, all hues of humanity in its pursuit of happiness. Every experience I’ve chronicled, no matter the circumstances that have shaped it, somehow affirms that Sonoma is one of the most brilliant places on earth, judging solely from the personalities it attracts and those it has retained (of course, I don’t put my own name on this ledger, for at times I think it must be Greek for “dumb luck”). Continue reading “Origin Myth”