I grew up in Los Angeles — Studio City, to be exact. My father was the chief audio engineer at NBC Burbank for 38 years. I met the stars he put on the air — Dinah Shore, Bob Hope, and Johnny Carson. I even sat in Tony Martin’s lap in a Christmas sleigh while he sang “Jingle Bells.”
We lived in a modest house, built in 1945. I went to Hollywood High. Art’s Deli, where movie deals are made over bagels and coffee, was two blocks from my house. We had the first television in the neighborhood — a monitor my father brought home from the studio and rigged to receive a signal. It was a great place to grow up. Celebrities were among my parents’ friends, and I enjoyed their swimming pools.
But my favorite time of year was the summer vacation we took to Nebraska to visit my father’s cousins, who had a farm.
Those summers stayed with me as I became an adult and started raising a family in LA. In the ’70s, I suddenly wanted to leave the lights of Hollywood and move my family somewhere simpler.
I’ve long been a farm girl at heart
I longed for more animals than my dog and cat. In Nebraska, as a kid, I rode horses, milked cows, and joined the field hands for lunch during their break from harvesting.
My husband, who grew up in Northern California, also wanted to live a rural life, but we were both trained as teachers, and our first jobs were in the LA area. We first lived in Westwood, near UCLA, while he pursued a graduate degree. Life was fun there with nightlife within walking distance.
Teaching jobs and parenthood followed in Anaheim and Riverside. Life was OK. We were adulting responsibly. But we knew there was more, and when the LA smog caused respiratory problems for our two sons, it was the impetus we needed to follow our dream.
Courtesy of Cynthia Wall
We sent out 100 applications to the Northwest. My husband received three job offers and accepted one at a community college in Salem, Oregon, which would be a pay cut for him. As a full-time mom, I decided to teach evening college classes in Oregon, and once the kids were in school, I switched to day classes.
We were overjoyed to start our Oregon farm life
In 1974, we bought a six-acre tree farm and later a ten-acre property. Our kids grew up learning to milk goats, cut trees, and appreciate the beauty of quiet and changing seasons. We raised ducks and chickens. I discovered a ready market for articles about our newbie farming experiences in a local newspaper.
The Oregon coast, just an hour away, provided delightful getaways. From walking the uncrowded beaches to building sand castles, it was childish fun for all of us. My husband, an avid scuba diver, brought up enough Dungeness crabs to keep our freezer stocked with savory meals.
We had slightly less income than in California, but the cost of living was lower, so it was a win in more ways than money. How do you put a price on contentment?
We’re still living in Oregon as retirees
Decades later, as retirees, we rejoice in each Oregon sunrise and sunset and the life we built. I still have a fondness for LA — the aroma of orange blossoms and eucalyptus, the thrill of a first night opening movie at Grauman’s, and driving down the Pacific Coast Highway past Zuma Beach, where I learned to body surf.
But visiting is different than living.
Seeing deer in our backyard, picking peaches from the orchard down the road, and inhaling the sweet aroma of freshly cut hay are nice bookends to the choices we made. Location, location, location is what brings joy to the heart.
