I’ve known about Barrio Logan for a while: during my first quarter at UCSD, my TA for my first-year writing course was a proud resident of Barrio Logan who spoke highly of its culture and constantly encouraged my class to visit. Admittedly, it took me a few years, but I finally visited this past month during one of our LCS class excursions. As we stepped off the trolley, I immediately noticed that the waterfront was completely blocked off by industrial factories and construction sites, whereas the opposite side of the water—wealthy Coronado Island—enjoyed a beautiful, unobstructed view of the bay.
As we went on an age-friendly assessment walk through the neighborhood, I saw countless tripping hazards and cracks in the sidewalks (I tripped over many of them myself), along with a lack of bus stops, benches, or street signs in certain areas. Once we arrived at Chicano Park, all I could hear while standing in the center of was the rush of cars driving 80 miles an hour above me, due to the unlawful construction of the Coronado bridge and I-5 intersection through the neighborhood that displaced countless Barrio Logan residents. My first reaction to Chicano Park was outrage over the noisiness, and mourning for the peace and quiet that was unfairly taken away from this neighborhood. It felt like a reflection of how little value the government places on the livelihoods of lower-income, non-white communities. But as I looked closer at the incredibly colorful large-scale murals on the bridge pylons, each one telling a unique story about Chicano culture and heritage and celebrating the resilience of the community, I was reminded that such communities are not defined by tragedies which befall them; they only become more strong, tight-knit, and vibrant as a result. I noticed the cheerful demeanor of the few residents in the park, the buzz of Cafe Moto during the morning coffee shop rush, and the friendly chats between neighbors inside the laundromat. Chicano Park was fairly empty on the Wednesday morning we were there, but Bri mentioned that the street becomes packed during the festivals. Attending one of these festivals is absolutely on my bucket list of things to do before I leave San Diego.
The following week, we received a tour of Casa de Mañana, a gorgeous ocean-front retirement community here in La Jolla. In the library area, a few of us spoke with Grace, a resident who told us about her art career and her upcoming plans to submit some of her paintings to the Guggenheim fellowship application! Afterwards, I kept thinking about the residents we met on our affordable housing tour in Week 3, whose time and energy was devoted to finding stable housing and income. Leisure time is a luxury we often take for granted. How incredible would it be if every senior could spend the last few decades of their lives on creative pursuits and other soul-nourishing activities, instead of worrying about month-by-month survival.
We then broke into small groups for our intergenerational conversations. Demetri and I spoke with Kent, a retired teacher and active marathon runner, and Michael, an avid world traveler. They talked about the sheer magnitude of positive change they’ve observed over the course of their lives, especially in relation to technology, medicine, and transportation. Our conversation gave me great hope that my generation will be able to observe impactful change in our lifetimes, too, even if it might look a bit different in execution. Both the Casa residents and our LCS class expressed interest in setting up a recurring intergenerational conversation event, so I’m hopeful I’ll be able to continue speaking with both the local elderly community and my LCS cohort about their lives and wisdoms.
The quarter’s winding down, and I’m already thinking about how much I’ll miss the incredible field experiences and classroom community of this program. As students, we tend to get so caught up in the hectic pace of the quarter system, submitting history research papers as we run to organic chemistry exams. I’m certainly guilty of it. It’s rare to find a class that feels like a breath of fresh air and reminds us why we’re here working tirelessly for our degrees: to eventually make lasting change beyond the classroom. I know the connections I’ve made with both the people in LCS and the course content will extend far into the future, and I’m incredibly grateful for it all!
The quarter’s winding down, and I’m already thinking about how much I’ll miss the incredible field experiences and classroom community of this program. As students, we tend to get so caught up in the hectic pace of the quarter system, submitting history research papers as we run to organic chemistry exams. I’m certainly guilty of it. It’s rare to find a class that feels like a breath of fresh air and reminds us why we’re here working tirelessly for our degrees: to eventually make lasting change beyond the classroom. I know the connections I’ve made with both the people in LCS and the course content will extend far into the future, and I’m incredibly grateful for it all!