We all remember the story of the blind men describing an elephant. A leg was a tree; the trunk a hose; the tail a rope. So I’m sitting in a diner here in Kentucky, talking about California.

Impressions of my home state are all-important. I’m a proud native son of the Golden State. What I heard are some of the impressions folks here in Kentucky have of our home.

“Guns and sirens all night long.”

“Is it still so full of smog in Los Angeles?”

“Not much farming there – so why would I go there?”

“Flying into Los Angeles on our way to Hawaii, all I saw was deserts surrounding housing tracts.”

They went on to say that in Kentucky, the hills were green and there were a lot more trees. Kentucky has more rivers and lakes to fish and play on. Eastern Kentucky has beautiful mountains and natural wonders. And Kentucky has a famous horse race. (Sure does – and the winner this year was a horse named “California Chrome.”)

I let them tell me all of the bad things about my home state and didn’t say a word until there was a lapse in the conversation. Resorting to the notes imbedded in both of my brain cells, I plunged ahead.

“Do all y’all remember the TV show ‘Gunsmoke’ or ‘Paladin’ and even a later show called ‘Deadwood’?” Most said “yes.” “Well, those were all filmed in my home town at a place called Melody Ranch.”

I continued: “Remember the creeks and trees, covered bridge and green meadows on the show, ‘Little House on the Prairie’? How about ‘The Dukes of Hazzard?’” And then there is a whole host of other shows I described, such as “Greatest American Hero” (Hart High).

I asked them if they knew where those big, slanted rock formations were located in movies like “Blazing Saddles” and Captain Kirk vs. the Gorn in “Star Trek.” Those same rocks were in Rin Tin Tin and all kinds of other shows.

Soon I brought out the big guns. Yosemite. The giant redwood trees. Thousand of miles of rivers and lakes. The High Sierras and Death Valley. The climate and the zoo in San Diego. The Los Angeles Dodgers. Malibu. Hollywood. Santa Barbara. San Francisco Bay. Morro Rock.

I was sitting in the diner because it had free WiFi, so I pulled up pictures from our park system and the National Park Service.

I somehow got around to our ghost towns like Calico and Mentryville. Winter sports resorts and our ability to both ski and surf on the same day. They also heard about Mount Shasta and Mount Lassen.

They thought you could drive from Los Angeles to San Francisco in a couple of hours. I explained the distance.

Yes, Kentucky is a beautiful state. Early morning on Lake Barkley is a sight to behold. Listening to the river traffic at night on that lake is somehow soothing. So is the surf on a California beach.

I’ve seen some commercials for “Visit California” here on the Nashville stations. Very well done. Even better now that “Ahnold” isn’t the spokesperson. But those minute-long spots can’t begin to describe our state.

Sure, we have our problems. Billboards. High taxes. Traffic. Laws and regulations that are starting to choke commercial enterprise. But we also have Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, Universal Studios, beaches, the tallest mountains in the lower 48 states and the lowest point, too (Death Valley).

California has so much, and I took so long to describe the wonders of our state that my meal got cold. The waiter actually got me a new plate of food. People are like that here in Kentucky. Same In California.

Now I don’t know when I’ll be getting home. I missed a tour I was to give of Mentryville. I’m sitting here in my ex-wife’s home as she has hospice caring for her almost around the clock. She wakes enough to smile and ask for water or a little bite of food. Wanting to talk, she mumbles a few words and smiles.

I’ve got a picture of her I took as she stood next to a big tree in Hart Park. It was 1969 and I was home on leave from the Navy. That is how I remember her. There is another picture we took on an outing to Point Reyes. Same smile. Yet another one taken on a hike with friends on the road up PCO Hill in Pico Canyon. All with that smile. Kathie’s smile. I shall never forget it. The girl in Hart Park.

Right now I miss California, but I’ll miss her more. Glad I was able to capture a few of those smiles.

Darryl Manzer grew up in the Pico Canyon oil town of Mentryville in the 1960s and attended Hart High School. After a career in the U.S. Navy he returned to live in the Santa Clarita Valley. He can be reached at dmanzer@scvhistory.com and his commentaries, published on Tuesdays and Sundays, are archived at DManzer.com. Watch his walking tour of Mentryville [here].