I just returned home after spending five weeks in New Jersey, and I came back with a whole new appreciation for Santa Cruz.
I loved every minute with my family. I taught my grandson how to ride his new two-wheeled balance bike, introduced him to miniature golf, and got to meet my new granddaughter. But I also discovered something I had never really thought about before: much of the country lives indoors because of the weather.
During my visit, temperatures hovered above 95 degrees with high humidity. Unlike Santa Cruz, it didn’t cool off much at night. If we wanted to ride bikes or go to a park, we had to leave by 7:30 in the morning. By 9:00, we were usually heading back to the car with the air conditioner blasting.
Even playgrounds were different. One “jungle gym” we visited wasn’t outside under trees and blue skies. It was inside a huge warehouse with no windows, skylights, or plants—just brightly painted equipment under artificial lights. In winter, freezing temperatures, rain, ice, and snow limit outdoor play. In summer, heat and humidity send everyone back indoors.
Even going to the beach was exhausting. The heat drained the kids’ energy, and before long we found ourselves retreating to an air-conditioned house or restaurant. Every plan revolved around two questions: How hot will it be, and will there be any shade?
That’s when I started thinking about what quality of life really means.
I’ve traveled throughout the world and experienced incredible mountains, beaches, cities, and cultures. As an educator, I love meeting people, learning their history, and exploring museums and landmarks. With my Merit Academy students, I’ve climbed Chichén Itzá, explored literary homes in England, marveled at Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany, and stood before the Taj Mahal in India.
I’ve loved my travels. But something happens every time I come home.
As I drive south on Highway 17 and cross the Summit toward Santa Cruz, I catch that first glimpse of Monterey Bay—and I can feel the stress leaving my body. The air changes. The temperature changes. The mountains open up to the ocean, and I know I’m home.
How lucky are we?
We can open our windows and breathe fresh ocean air instead of living with air conditioning or heaters running around the clock. We can drive along East Cliff and watch surfers, kayakers, pelicans, and dolphins. Our children can play outside most days of the year.
We can walk along Monterey Bay in the morning and hike beneath towering redwoods that afternoon. We can wander through Nisene Marks, Henry Cowell, Big Basin, or the UCSC trails and breathe that cool, earthy redwood-forest air. Trees release natural compounds called phytoncides, but you don’t need to understand the science to know how restorative a walk through the redwoods can feel.
Before this trip, I didn’t fully realize how much our climate shapes our quality of life.
So much of the country alternates between weather extremes that push people indoors: air conditioning all summer and heaters all winter. When you’re constantly moving from an air-conditioned house to an air-conditioned car to an air-conditioned store, school, restaurant, or playground, something important is missing.
Fresh air. Nature. Open windows. Spontaneous time outdoors.
We complain about traffic, potholes, foggy mornings, tourists, and the outrageous cost of living here. Those are real problems. But every once in a while, we should look around and remember what we have.
We live where the redwoods meet the sea. We live where children can play outside almost year-round. We live where a morning at the beach and an afternoon in an ancient redwood forest are completely normal.
After five weeks away, I’ve decided that my favorite vacation destination is still the place I get to come home to.
Santa Cruz really may be one of the best places on Earth.
Shhh… let’s keep it our little secret.
