The author with Kristal Greenlea at her farewell party. All photos by Greggory Moore.
It seems this summer has been a season for leaving Long Beach, at least in my circles. And it’s pissing me off. You beautiful people, why won’t you all stay?
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Live in any one place for years, a place where you’ve been lucky enough to make a lot of friends, and you’re bound to lose at least a few of them to other parts of the country—particularly when those friends are in their 20s and 30s. Call it the downside of being socially fortunate.
I’m sorry to say that the leavings I’m witnessing this summer are far from the first. Over the last couple of years Ryan and Rachel have moved progressively farther from Long Beach (Los Angeles, New Orleans, NYC). I lost Erika and Richard independently to Portland, that obvious Northwestern magnet for artsy Beachers. Russ and Laura set out on a pair of bicycles to wherever the road led, while Peter and Juwels did the same in a Winnebago.
This summer’s losses have come in a cluster. Tai Tajima, a multi-instrumentalist staple of the Long Beach music scene (with oto, Elephant Day, Miniature Houses, Familiar Trees, et al.), has to depart because he can’t get a visa extension.
“I like it here,” he laments in English that has gotten significantly better in his seven years here and with an affect that has gotten less shy. “I don’t want to go back. I love Long Beach. […] I am going to miss everything here. I just don’t want to go back.”
Tai Tajima (bent over xylophone and bells) as he plays his last Long Beach show at Portfolio.
But Tai’s got an excuse. But as for the rest of you…. The Garage Theatre lost a full third of its board this summer: Jessica Variz is in the Bay Area, while Kristal Greenlea is in Brooklyn. And these aren’t the only hits our arts community is taking: set designer/visual artist Dicapria Del Carpio is off to the Big Apple. Actor/musician A.J. Pacheco is off to stupid New York almost on a whim. Singer/songwriter Jenny Stockdale, a former District Weekly colleague, is proving you can go home again—in her case, to Upstate New York, a return she planned all along.
“I came here to go to school and get some sunshine for a little bit,” she says. “It’s just taken me a little longer than I thought it would to actualize that plan [to return to New York].”
When I whine to Jenny about so many people’s leaving and ask her for her take, she offers a theory.
“I hate to say this about Long Beach, but maybe it’s an interim town,” she says. “You need it for a certain part of your life—or at least, I needed it for a certain part of my life. It was an incredible place to spend my 20s (which, sadly, are almost gone). I think it’s served me well in the time I’ve been here.”
Before you loyal Long Beachers send traitorous Jenny any hate mail, you should at least read her assessment of her soon-to-be former home: “I’m proud of Long Beach. I never thought I would say that, because I didn’t know much about this place when I moved here, other than Snoop Dogg. [But] Long Beach has a very unique identity. It surprises me how many talented people congregate here and how they seem get along so well sans ego. And I’m really proud of the small, mom-and-pop community and the support that everybody seems to give that. […] The arts community here is growing. It’s got a lot of kinetic energy and a lot of movement. […] This town’s doing okay. I’m not leaving it because I don’t think it’s worth its salt. […] I’m from a cow town in the middle of nowhere. It’s very quiet, and you can see the stars. I think those are two very important things to me that are missing here. But other than that, this place has a lot going for it.”
For his part, A.J.’s got a different rationale: comfort. For most of us that’s a good thing, but A.J. doesn’t want to settle down just yet.
“I’m young, a great opportunity came up,” he says. “Why not?”
But he’s almost as torn as he is excited for the change. “This is my community,” he says. “I’m going to miss you guys!”
Community. That’s why I can’t (fore)see myself leaving: I’m too in love with what we’ve got going here, and how much better still it might (should) get.
Perhaps the difference comes from being older than everyone mentioned in this story. But I was never one for wanderlust. Rather, I always wanted roots, to be part of that magic concept: community.
That’s why all this leaving is pissing me off. There’s an old philosophical exercise that muses on the essence of a city. If you rearrange the placement of the buildings in Long Beach, is it still Long Beach? What about if you keep the whole shebang intact but move it 10 miles inland? What about the people? If everybody moved away tomorrow, would it still be Long Beach?
All I know for sure is that it certainly wouldn’t be the Long Beach I love. Even just the dozen departures I’ve documented here have changed my city. For me, Long Beach has lost something this summer.
But loss is inevitable. It’s a Buddhist doctrine that one of the reasons we suffer is our desire for permanence in a reality that is perpetually in flux. I’ll buy that. All is flux, and loss is inevitable. Fine. The fact that it’s true doesn’t make it any less cold comfort.
The hope, of course, is that at least as many great people will arrive as are departing, and that on balance the community gets stronger despite the losses of individuals who can never quite be replaced. It’s a double-hope, actually, since the more Long Beach has going for it, the more likely its inhabitants are to remain.
What’s the best thing our city has going for it? Its people. So if you’re a real turd, feel free to hop on the next plane out. But as for the rest of you, don’t go getting any ideas. My city just won’t be the same without you.
—Final photo: Jenny Stockdale plays as part of Atlas Cedars at her “goodbye” event at 4th Street Vine.