I moved to southern California in 1983 to stretch my mind and attitudes. It worked. And there's no better way to express how the change opened my mind and challenged my thinking than by reviewing with you some of the human characters I met during my 11 years in Santa Barbara.The town is perhaps the most beautiful city in America, lodged between the Pacific Ocean and a rim of mountains, accented with red-tiled roofs and palm trees. So it's not surprising to know that Santa Barbara is a melting pot of personalities. My roommates alone were a case study in human nature. There was the suspicious young man who we eventually learned had been wanted for years by the police for car theft. He still owes me $200 rent money! This became my lesson No. 1 in "how to find a roommate."The "fugitive" was followed by a construction-working Tom Selleck look-alike who had more girlfriends than jobs. Next came a French au pair who spoke very little English and insisted on eating all her meals in her bedroom. Finally, I wised up, paid double rent and lived with my best friend in paradise — me.There were plenty of characters at my dialysis center, too. The most memorable was the middle-aged woman with kidney disease who believed that her organs' function would return by rubbing a copper bracelet over her belly and drinking nothing but pure carrot juice. She died a few months later. The opposite spectrum was Phil who followed all the doctor's orders. He soon died, too. Another woman, calling on family tradition, claimed she used voodoo at home to stay alive. Who am I to judge? She's the only one of the three who was alive when I left! An older Hispanic man was always so tired during dialysis. I soon learned he slept in one room with his wife ... and nine children!The Queen of England visited Santa Barbara my first spring and promptly arrived during the most destructive ocean storm in city history. She was visiting our then-president Reagan. I could always tell when Ronald was coming or going from his nearby ranch — from my hillside vantage point I could see the traffic on Highway 101 come to a stop while the president's entourage passed through.Other people and events that helped "stretch" me included: A surgeon who felt mother nature could do as good a job as his scalpel and canceled one of my surgeries — and he was right. A therapist who was my fifth attempt to find an appropriate professional for my emotional needs and still today takes my monthly calls. And the numerous homeless people who were, in general, far more polite than the yuppies and the ubiquitous members of the upper crust.Finally, there are the contrasts I encountered, highlighted by sharing the YMCA swimming pool with supermodel, Kathy Ireland, and a low point of getting shot at from a passing car one night while waiting for a bus. What all this taught me is that the American pie is sliced into many fascinating flavors and that my personal growth required that I taste as many as possible. I edged a bit closer to learning just where I fit into the mix, what (who) to avoid and what to pursue. But this is precisely why I moved to southern California and why I enjoyed my associations there so much.
