Fifty years ago, on January 27, 1974 I landed in Chico from my home state of New Hampshire, ready to embark upon the initial exchange program between Chico State and the University of New Hampshire.
A rather immature, and certainly naïve, 20 year old, I was so ready to exchange not just schools, but the east coast for the west. In my mind, California was more than a state; it was a state of mind, where my freedom was accessible.
As the oldest of seven siblings, I’d had more than my share of responsibility and was ready to exert my independence. Three thousand miles away from my family felt just about the right distance. I remember my Uncle Bob saying “Ro, do you even know where Chico is?” and sheepishly responding that I did not. When pointed out on a map, my (again, so naïve) reply was “Oh my God … it’s so far from Hollywood!” Yet, undeterred, it was Chico or Bust.
Arriving during an exceptionally wet winter, I was awed by the beauty of this town, finding Lower Bidwell Park during my first week, an easy walk from campus. I met the young man who is now my husband a month to the day of arriving in Chico, so we will celebrate our 50th anniversary in February.
On his motorcycle, we explored the far reaches of Upper Park and Butte Creek Canyon during that spring semester. Though not what I had imagined (LA beaches and movie stars), Chico exceeded my expectations. One night, my boyfriend (ever the music buff) took me to a concert at Chico State to see two bands with whom I was unfamiliar: Lynyrd Skynyrd and Marshall Tucker — a free bird, my world was expanding exponentially!
Spring break brought me to Santa Cruz and Monterey — need I say more?
It was inevitable– the call to my parents in May of 1974, explaining that I would spend the summer in Chico. It was a magical season of new friendships, swimming, bike riding, concerts, hiking, and this thing “potlucks.” Chico captured my heart and I dreaded leaving.
Then a friend casually said, “It’s too bad you have to leave” and I played with that … do I really HAVE to leave? More deeply entrenched in my new-found liberty, I made another difficult phone call home — I’m taking a year off college, will work and make money, finish college here. I didn’t possess the maturity to realize the grief this would cause my parents, but I was headstrong and pursued this dream.
I can honestly report that Chico has been a wonderful home. I have loved living and working in this community, raising a family, creating a network of very dear friends, and contributing to my community in a manner that feels authentic. Along the way, of course, maturity has emerged and I have much more clarity regarding this life path, choices, and effects of choices. Early on, I learned that there is no panacea, that the California dream was just that — a dream.
Over time, I missed my family and my childhood home more than I realized and, in the ensuing years, have spent a considerable amount of energy making the trek between the two coasts. My parents and I repaired our rift and, for many years, they spent part of their winter out here in Chico, agreeing that our home in Butte Creek Canyon was a “little piece of heaven.” I felt so fortunate that I could offer them the balm of a comparatively mild Chico winter.
We each possess an incredible story! My parents have passed now, and I pay homage to the legacy they provided. My commitment to my personal growth required me to face an addiction I fervently wished I did not own. However, surrender to it provided miracles.
In fall, 2018, our “little piece of heaven” was lost in the Camp Fire. Marriage, parenthood, career, community connection, and friendships have provided elation and despair, ease and complication, and a spiritual quest for deeper wisdom and kindness.
Life is an awesome, precious gift. It presents one with 100,000 joys and 100,000 sorrows and it cares not whether one lives in New Hampshire, California, or Timbuctoo. Alas, the freedom for which I yearned was within me all along. I feel blessed for the circuitous route my life has taken and thank you, Chico, for enveloping a confused young girl, providing the ground for a life of fullness, adventure, and love.
You can reach Rosann Lampkin at rosannl0514@gmail.com.
