Above the Redwoods – by Scott D. Culp

Quite honestly I don’t believe Mr. Webster could define a more beautiful city. I’m currently living in a high-rise in downtown Redwood City, California with views that belay a generosity of spirit, rock solid values of decency, and with Old Glory and the California Bear flying high above the local V.F.W. a sense of civic duty accentuates the panorama. At night, “looking towards the West” the firmament juxtaposes with the lights of the not-so-distant hills. In the pre-dawn, the marine layer outlines and edges the geometric canvass of the Santa Cruz mountains. In the afternoon I can clearly make out a hiking trail as it snakes up the Eastern flank of the redwood covered mountains. On weekends I find myself daydreaming about joining the droves of hikers as they attack its summit and are presented with the City of Half Moon Bay and the Pacific Ocean beneath them. I also have a fine view of the historic wooden homes on Arguello Street. The infrastructure and identity of this Coastal Redwood Community has me looking inward too. To be part of this community is also a daydream. I have faults that I recognize plainly and regret them. Like many people I’ve faltered in life. My views may be limited by the steel anchored slit windows of the downtown county jail, but my hopes aren’t. I hope you readers won’t bereave my circumstance. I’ve spent most of my life looking for myself outside of myself. Writing changes that for me. I’ve never felt a belonging to a community in my life. To be part of this community, “even for a brief moment” by sharing my views and thoughts with all of you is lifetime cool. From the vantage of his hermitage the Jesuit hermit “Thomas Merton” was asked to reflect on the meaning of community. “The woods” he said, “would be very silent if the only birds who sang were the best.” This statement is even more profound when considering the fact that the cloistered monastery from which he retired had adhered to a strict vow of silence. I can’t sing. I don’t mean that like other modest people mean it. I’m dead serious. Still, I can’t help but chirp away at the beauty unfolded beneath, “and I hope not beyond” my dreams.