The Hills of the Heart's Delight
Many times in my life, I have taken San Jose for granted. Growing up in a suburban house, next to wide, quiet streets, for us to romp around, was just a given for me. I knew to expect 300 days of sun and shorts a year. And of course, I always could count on the presence and love from my parents, hermanos, primos, and tios.
Most recently, I have taken for granted the very thing that gives my hometown its O.G. moniker. Those hills of the Valley of the Heart’s Delight are looking beeeeyooootiful, que no? The panorama of verdant hills to the east, the way the fog and clouds pass across them, the black silhouette of the Santa Cruz Mountains looming behind the hills to south, those rolling green hills along 680 towards Pleasanton. These views have captivated me this year, helping me calm down, breathe, and enjoy this marvelous life.
These hills remind me of past experiences, both mine and of the souls who once called this place home.
The vista is essentially the same that my parents both saw when they first arrived from Tijuana in the 70’s. Perhaps they gazed at them together as they danced to Rigo Tovar y su Costa Azul at the Fairgrounds. It’s the same view that Cesar Chavez and other farmworkers from Mexico and the Southwest saw and became enamored with, enough to stay here long after the season. The indigenas were blessed by this same view as they gathered acorns and fished, thousands of years ago.
I can look at these hills, and put myself in their place, imagine the awe and inspiration I feel is the same they had.
I may be able to see these hills now, but will I be able to enjoy them in the future? Will all the new high rise (for sanjo) condos and offices block the view of these hills for chavalitos in our neighborhoods? Will the hills themselves soon be populated with homes, erasing the green jewels I see today? Will future generations of my family even live here to witness these beautiful hills and be inspired, like I am, by the memories they hold?
I can’t let these thoughts overwhelm me. These beeeeyooootiful hills are still here, in front of me, available for me to enjoy. I will surround myself with their beauty, just like they do this Valley, soak in their wisdom.
What other sacred treasures do I pass by without even noticing? How elegant do the old ladies look on the 22 bus, all dolled up with their carts! What stories do they hold? How wonderful are the delicacies of food from all parts of the world, holding it down for decades on the South Side of sanjo, made with care from a familia honoring generations-old recipes? What memories can I sense from the clothes and antiques in the the segundas within sand-finished, stucco strip malls?
My senses are now open to what I have always considered the mundane here Valley of the Heart’s Delight, and I’m eager to share and celebrate them with my family and comunidad.
Because if I kept taking them for granted, they’d be as good as gone, no?
Que viva sanjo!
Most recently, I have taken for granted the very thing that gives my hometown its O.G. moniker. Those hills of the Valley of the Heart’s Delight are looking beeeeyooootiful, que no? The panorama of verdant hills to the east, the way the fog and clouds pass across them, the black silhouette of the Santa Cruz Mountains looming behind the hills to south, those rolling green hills along 680 towards Pleasanton. These views have captivated me this year, helping me calm down, breathe, and enjoy this marvelous life.
These hills remind me of past experiences, both mine and of the souls who once called this place home.
The vista is essentially the same that my parents both saw when they first arrived from Tijuana in the 70’s. Perhaps they gazed at them together as they danced to Rigo Tovar y su Costa Azul at the Fairgrounds. It’s the same view that Cesar Chavez and other farmworkers from Mexico and the Southwest saw and became enamored with, enough to stay here long after the season. The indigenas were blessed by this same view as they gathered acorns and fished, thousands of years ago.
I can look at these hills, and put myself in their place, imagine the awe and inspiration I feel is the same they had.
I may be able to see these hills now, but will I be able to enjoy them in the future? Will all the new high rise (for sanjo) condos and offices block the view of these hills for chavalitos in our neighborhoods? Will the hills themselves soon be populated with homes, erasing the green jewels I see today? Will future generations of my family even live here to witness these beautiful hills and be inspired, like I am, by the memories they hold?
I can’t let these thoughts overwhelm me. These beeeeyooootiful hills are still here, in front of me, available for me to enjoy. I will surround myself with their beauty, just like they do this Valley, soak in their wisdom.
What other sacred treasures do I pass by without even noticing? How elegant do the old ladies look on the 22 bus, all dolled up with their carts! What stories do they hold? How wonderful are the delicacies of food from all parts of the world, holding it down for decades on the South Side of sanjo, made with care from a familia honoring generations-old recipes? What memories can I sense from the clothes and antiques in the the segundas within sand-finished, stucco strip malls?
My senses are now open to what I have always considered the mundane here Valley of the Heart’s Delight, and I’m eager to share and celebrate them with my family and comunidad.
Because if I kept taking them for granted, they’d be as good as gone, no?
Que viva sanjo!
CARLOS VELAZQUEZ was born and raised on the mean suburban streets of wssj. He is an alum of the National Association for Latino Arts and Culture’s (NALAC) Leadership and Advocacy Leadership Institutes, as well as the Multicultural Artists Leadership Institute (MALI) in San José. He loves learning about San José, his family, and our collective roots.
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