Sac Town

Sacramento, Days 143-145, 10/28 - 10/30/2024

A couple years ago, my sister Ashlee and I took a trip to Boston to visit filming locations for our favorite movie, Little Women (2019). Exploring Boston and the surrounding area through the lens of this movie was a fun way to travel, as it took us to places that weren’t necessarily big tourist spots. Greta Gerwig, the director, is also responsible for one of my other favorite movies, Lady Bird. The film takes place in Sacramento and follows a girl through her senior year of high school. Since Sacramento was hardly out of my way as I drove back to the coast from Yosemite, I spontaneously decided I might as well swing through the capital and find some of the notable settings in the movie.

I called Kilen--who is a big Johnny Cash fan--on the drive and he suggested I stop at Folsom Prison, the second oldest prison in California and where Johnny Cash recorded his first live album in 1968. I figured I wouldn’t be able to actually go to the prison grounds, but that maybe there would be a museum in Folsom because of the prison’s big reputation--I was both right and wrong. Upon arriving in the city just outside of Sacramento, I parked at a library and took the Johnny Cash Bike Trail through hilly golden pastures to the museum that sat next to the main prison entrance. I walked my bike somewhat cautiously past many officers and a large group of people at the front and asked where I could put my bike while I visited the museum. Among the group of people was a man wearing a baggy sky blue uniform that sort of looked like scrubs and exactly like the Columbia shirt I had on. I realized that I inadvertently matched Folsom’s prison uniforms.

I entered the small museum that was a former warden’s home and was greeted by an old man wearing a bowling shirt and a young woman with a British accent. They shared facts about the prison and the museum with me as I flipped through the prison’s execution book, looked at the wall of DIY shanks that were confiscated from prisoners, and admired artwork made of soap, toothpicks, and other mundane, everyday items made by inmates. The museum also had an exhibit on Johnny Cash and the concerts he played at Folsom, and also dispelled some of the mystique he had created about his association with the prison (spoiler: Cash was never an actual inmate at Folsom). There was another exhibit on Folsom’s Special Emergency Response Team (SERT), a team of corrections officers handling crises in the prison, such as rebellions. The man in the bowling shirt told me that one of two women on the team when it formed in the 80’s at Folsom was named Cindy, and that she was currently a volunteer at the museum.

A little while later as I was just about finished in the museum and was picking out some souvenirs for my dad and Kilen, Cindy came into the museum. She introduced herself, asked where I was from, and listened as I gave my small spiel that I’d developed throughout the duration of my trip for strangers who learned of my travels. Cindy was kind but she also intimidated me a bit. Obviously, she was a tough, strong-willed person; I feel like you must to be a corrections officer of any kind, but especially a SERT member at Folsom. She was direct in her questions and statements and never wavered or stuttered--she seemed certain. She’s the kind of person who I immediately have respect for and who I want approval from. After chatting for a while, we said our goodbyes and I walked back outside to my bike. I was buckling my helmet when Cindy came out to the porch on the old house and asked if I knew where I was parking my van for the night. When I replied that I hadn’t scoped out sleeping spots yet, she walked down the path and gave me a postcard with a black and white photo of Folsom’s main entrance on the front and her address and phone number on the back, and invited me to stay at her house if I wanted. I thanked her and told her I’d be in touch.

I took the Johnny Cash Bike Trail back to my van and called Kilen to tell him about everything I had found at the museum. Sometimes when new and exciting things happen on my road trip, Kilen seems to almost get more excited than me, which feels very encouraging. I sometimes feel bad when I’m having a hard time missing him, because at least I’m missing in National Parks, along the ocean, and in cities I’ve always wanted to travel to; meanwhile, he’s missing me back home in Duluth, avoiding the places we love most about the city because he can’t get himself to visit them without me. But feeling his excitement for whatever I’m doing makes me excited and also feel less bad.

Just after dinner time, I texted Cindy and said that I’d love to take her up on her offer if she would still have me. I arrived at her cute little home nestled in a neighborhood not too far from Folsom. She met me outside and showed me to the back driveway. Upon entering her home, I found myself in a perfect little studio apartment that Cindy told me I could make myself at home in for as long as I’d like. She gave me some time to bring my stuff in before we met in her backyard that reminded me of a jungle bungalow. The small fenced area was immersed in plants, had various seating areas, an overhead pavilion, a bar made of driftwood, tens of hundreds of fishing hooks and lures hung up, and DIY-ed decorations and art Cindy had made from treasures she found during her frequent walks at a nearby lake. It was busy, thrifty, and exactly my style. Cindy introduced me to her dog Reno, a big yellow lab with the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen on a dog. Typically, I’m pretty averse to labs since it seems like they are always wild and poorly trained, but Reno was smart, quiet, and playful without being obnoxious. The three of us sat outside for a while getting more acquainted over cans of Sprite.

I learned more about Cindy’s career at Folsom and as a corrections officer, what she went to school for, and how much she loved the Sacramento Kings, who would be playing a home game shortly. I told her about my trip, what I did for work, and about Kilen. We also discovered that we shared worries about the upcoming election, and both felt relief that the other was not in support of the radicalness of former President Trump. By the time we moved our conversation inside to catch the game, any intimidation I had felt from Cindy was dispelled. The inside of her home was as bright as her backyard, filled with her own paintings and artwork, including turtles she created out of rocks. Our chatter continued during commercial breaks and while we cracked open pistachio shells. Cindy was surprised to learn that I didn’t know how to play cribbage, and offered to teach me after the Kings were done playing. Three games in and it was nearly midnight.

The following morning I got some writing done before going over to Cindy’s portion of the house. She put no pressure on me to stick around with her all day and encouraged me to go into Sacramento to find the Lady Bird filming locations. Mainly, I was looking for McKinley Rose Garden and the Fab 40’s neighborhood. In the film, Lady Bird and her best friend loved walking through the big old mansions, and was especially fond of a beautiful blue one in particular, so I wanted to stroll through the neighborhood until I found it. I parked near the rose garden and sent pictures to Ashlee and Raven to see if they would recognize the scene. As I walked block after block through the 40’s, I regretted not taking my bike instead. It was a big neighborhood and despite it nearly being November, it was hot out. Eventually, I did find the house and was so delighted that I forgot about how hot I was from walking in the California sunshine. Afterwards, I went to Old Sac on Cindy’s recommendation, a small neighborhood in downtown Sacramento that is built to resemble a wild west town with wooden storefronts and boardwalks. Before heading back to Cindy’s, I picked up a floral plant for her to add to her backyard. Cindy and I had a repeat of the night before, watching the Kings and playing Cribbage.

The following day I had planned to head back to Santa Rosa and continue down the coast. First, though, I joined Cindy and Reno walking Folsom Lake. The reservoir of water fluctuates throughout the year, making it easy for Cindy to find all the treasures she has on display in her backyard and for the three of us to “walk under the water.” We threw sticks for Reno while Cindy showed me the hallmark sites of the lake, including a bench made of rocks that we sat and at oranges on, an anchor that’s taller than me that will be fully submerged at certain times of the year, and a sea monster an artist made of rocks that will sometimes appear to be lurking under the water. We walked and talked for over an hour. Cindy insisted that she take me out to lunch before I left town, and we went to a nice little restaurant called Crawdads on the Lake. We sat on the deck overlooking where the American River turns into Lake Natoma--it felt more like the middle of June rather than the end of October.

Despite Cindy being born and raised in California, she joined me in a proper Midwestern goodbye in the parking lot. I gave her a van tour and she made fun of the cushion I had on my driver's seat, insisting that it was actually a booster seat for me. I encouraged her to come to Minnesota to visit me and to meet Kilen, who I know she would have good conversation with, and she reiterated that if I ever needed a place to run away to, that the little apartment off her house would be open. We tearfully hugged and waved at each other when we got in our vehicles. It didn’t feel like I had only known Cindy for a couple of days. She was kind, fun, and easy to talk to. She possessed the kind of down-to-earthness I hoped to achieve and maintain. Driving out of Sacramento, I knew I’d gained a new lifelong friend, and a new reason to love the movie Lady Bird.