Your loss, California

By Brian Hamlin

It's hard to keep track of old friends in the hustle-bustle shuffle of 21st century America, particularly if one of your old friends is named Sapper.

Forever lost in the Age of Aquarius after ingesting some unidentifiable herbs in Bolinas in 1968, my old sidekick Sapper moves around a lot, and he doesn't always tell friends where he is until he's somewhere else.

Last month, Sapper told me he was ready to pull up stakes in Oregon and move to the Sacramento Delta to live aboard his trusty sailing sloop and set up a metal sculpting studio nearby.

A week ago, however, Sapper called to announce that he was fed up with California and its pernicious pettifoggery and was most definitely re-relocating to Oregon, which he had yet to leave.

"Got a new place right here in Oregon, bro, where everybody isn't all crabby and mean an' bacon-headed like everybody in California all the time," he declared.

Uh-huh ...

"Maaaaaaan, I try to move down there and all I get is a lot of squinty-faced people askin' for my credit report," Sapper continued. "Credit report. Can you believe that? They want a credit report to tie a boat up in a swamp. California's got all beady-eyed and mean!"

I had no chance to get a word in edgewise. Sapper was on a cell phone filibuster and nobody, particularly a loathsome Californian, was going to derail his train of thought.

"Balderdash! Why would I have a credit report? I got a credit card and that oughta say it all. I don't think anybody in the whole damned state of Oregon has a credit report. We don't believe in 'em here where a man's credit is just as good as his handshake and a 12-pack of Henry Weinhard's," Sapper continued.

"No, bro, you keep Crabbyfornia. I found me a great place right here in Oregon, where everybody isn't all mean and despicable. I rented out a law office, where I can do my welding and I can ride my bike from my boat and not worry about the credit-report Gestapo!"

As sorry as I was to hear how thoroughgoingly reprehensible my fellow Californians had become, I was happy to hear that Sapper had found a law office to call home.

"So exactly where is the new place?" I asked, trying not sound mean or contemptuous, despite my California roots.

"That's the best part," Sapper responded enthusiastically. "It's just about 125 miles from Wolf Creek. It's, hmmmmm, er, got the same name as that town in South Carolina, ya know? Hey, don't sweat the details. I'll call ya once I get my cats moved in."

Not the best directions I'd ever received from Sapper, but not the worst, either. He'd at least narrowed the location of his new residence down to Oregon - or, perhaps, South Carolina ...

Brian Hamlin can be reached at courts@thereporter.com.