Santa Cruz

We drove the curves of Highway 17 for what seemed like miles. It was dark, and our headlights were offensive to the trees lining the one-lane road we turned onto in, I think, the middle of nowhere.

When we arrived, it was like entering a dream. The high windows of the lodge-like house emitted a warm glow of yellow light from the inside. Above, thousands of stars dotted the darkness like a pointillist painting.

"What's that light smudge in the sky, right there?" asked Nick, pointing to a blurry spot amongst the stars.

"That's the Seven Sisters, the Pleiades," answered Valentina while gathering an armful of freshly fallen lemons off the driveway.

"Oh. You can't see those in Santa Clara."

Upon entering the house, all five of us became breathless with affection for the place. Long, dark wooden beams held up the high slanted ceiling and rich honey-colored glossy wooden boards layered the walls. Candles lit throughout the house spoke of the yellow glow we first noticed from the driveway.

Fresh vegetables, pizza and grapes adorned the kitchen table, untouched. We tiptoed into the main room as a guitar strummed, stumbling upon a complete setup of drums, bass, two guitars, keyboard, and several amps facing a comfortable array of cozy couches and thick beige carpeting.

Max's reggae band was a work in progress. For the first couple of songs, the four of us "audience members" just drank green tea and Coronas and lounged. But then, the drummer's mother, the renter of the house, came in.

Her long blond hair and blue floral dress were straight out of the psychedelic era, as were her dance moves. Eyes closed, swaying, arms flowing freely to the rhythm of the music, this woman was a true embodiment of the hippie movement. Later, when she joined the band members in smoking out of a bong, this impression was confirmed. Darleen was a free spirit.

Darleen's carefree attitude, dancing, and encouragement to the band was contagious. After a few minutes, all of us were on our feet, swaying, bumping, nodding our heads to the reggae beat.

It couldn't be helped. On a dark night in the middle of nowhere Santa Cruz, in a secluded house with candles and food and weed, dancing was destiny, a hippie medicine to the Silicon Valley dwellers' woes of "real life." And so, we danced.

Yes, We Can

This is a moment in history. Our children will one day be asking us, were you there the day our first black president was inaugurated? And I can say, yes.

“Yes we can,” Barack Obama, who was signed into office the day after Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, tells us. Is it true? Can we really climb out of this recession—the worst one since the Great Depression—and get back on our feet?

At Santa Clara, where students still go to class and old palm trees are still uprooted and replaced with more attractive ones, the recession seems to be a myth. We push aside the promise of a terrible job market until our impending graduation, anxious to forget what lies ahead of us.

This isn’t really the real world, college. Here, cushioned beneath piles of homework and books, we’re safe.

“Stay in college for as long as you can,” my friend’s dad suggested. But, I can’t afford that. Maybe I’ll go abroad to teach English, but the world economy isn’t much better.

I suppose, for now, we’re just going to have to hang tight. Take what we can get.

The hype of “change” and the recent election has made Obama a somewhat idolized figure for weary Americans—especially, college students. Stressed about the worst recession since the Great Depression, a seemingly endless war overseas and the fear of unemployment after graduation, we tend to put this symbol of change in the newly elected Barack Obama up on an exaggerated pedestal.

But, Obama is no Santa Claus, superhero or Jesus Christ Superstar.

Like Obama himself said in his inauguration speech, change depends on ourselves as individuals.

"What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world," Obama spoke, "duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship."

We musn't assign our worries to "Super Obama" to solve them, but look to his presence as inspiration for change in our own lives. This may mean living frugally, making sacrifices to take care of our earth, and remaining hopeful despite our plight. But, we can do it, Obama suggests. And I think, Yes, we can.