By Cyndi Jones

Editor: This is the fourth in an eight-part series of “My Town” personal essays by New Mobility readers and freelancers.

The weather! That about says it all. It was not why my parents moved to San Diego in 1959, but it certainly is a reason to stay — with a year-round average temperature of 70.5 degrees Fahrenheit. I know I’m spoiled: If it’s warmer than 75, I think it’s hot, and if it’s colder than 65, I know it’s cold. Where could I go that would be more comfortable?

San Diego really is my town. Politically, it operates like the biggest small town in America, with some 1.3 million people living here. It is California’s second largest city, the seventh largest in the United States. But the city is run like a small town, very closely held. A recent New York Times article called it “Enron by the Sea” because of some faulty accounting practices.

Like any small town, it is surprisingly quick and easy to get around here, except during rush hour traffic, which seems to be getting longer and longer. But usually when someone asks, “How long does it take to get there,” no matter where they are going to or from, the answer is 20 minutes. Amazing! I really am at a loss to explain this.

Our “America’s Finest City” moniker was a public relations creation in 1972, when San Diego was scheduled to host the Republican National Convention. At the last moment the convention was moved to Miami. Our city had already planned, and paid for, a week of festivities for the conventioneers, and now — what to do with all these events only weeks away? Creatively, the city fathers (and mothers) opened the doors to what was to be a “private party” and let the locals have a good time. Some PR genius coined “America’s Finest City” Week and it stuck (for locals anyway). I got to hear the 1812 Overture complete with real cannons. I was not disappointed that the Republicans went to Miami.

Needless to say, tourism is one of our biggest industries. I am usually too busy working to hit the “vacation spots,” except when we have visitors. But when I have an afternoon free, I enjoy going to Old Town (even if it is really touristy). La Casa de Estudillo is a hacienda furnished as it would have been in 1825 and includes outdoor cooking facilities and utensils of the era. It reminds me how lucky we are to have indoor plumbing and kitchens. It must have been a hard life even in a house that had servants. Of course, the bonus to Old Town is that there is terrific Mexican food at any number of restaurants. I have acquired a taste for guacamole made from the locally grown avocados. When I was a kid we had two producing avocado trees in our yard — a rarity. But I thought the stuff looked, well, green and slimy. How foolish I was.

In 1976 in honor of the United States’ bicentennial, Australia gifted the U.S. with a colony of koala bears, at the time one of the only colonies outside of Australia. The San Diego Zoo was chosen to receive the gift because of our weather and the fact that we have eucalyptus trees, a natural food source for koalas. I love rolling up a pathway that actually winds up in the treetops and watch the koalas face to face, if I can find them. They are pretty good at camouflage. The zoo also has giant pandas, but, hey, I’m a koala person.

On San Diego Bay there is a wide walkway that people use to stroll the beach area. At the end of this walk is Tecolote Shores North, a terrific wheelchair accessible playground that includes an accessible pirate ship. I take every opportunity I get to let the kid in me play, even if I get funny looks from the parents of the 5 year olds playing alongside me. I figure that I didn’t get enough play time when I was a kid.

I’m a disability advocate, and the thing about being an advocate is that sometimes you start down a path and pretty soon you realize you are not in Kansas any more. For instance, a few years back when Casey Martin was in the news for suing the PGA to be able to use a golf cart on the PGA tour, I became a bit of an expert on golf and who qualifies to play on the PGA tour, the Masters or the U.S. Open. The head of the PGA told the Supreme Court that the area inside the ropes belonged to them, but outside the ropes everything was accessible to the public. So I decided to check out his statement by attending the Buick Invitational at our own municipal Torrey Pines course.

That year must have been the coldest, wettest year in recorded history. I froze! (Yeah, it was probably 60 degrees.) I guess if you didn’t count the bathrooms, food stands or shuttles, the PGA guy was about right. When the city was getting ready for the 2008 U.S. Open and wanted to spruce up Torrey Pines Golf Course, I testified that before they did anything new, they needed to make good on renovations they had already “completed” that were still lacking access.

Technically I live in South Park. Not that South Park! I’m talking about the Southeast corner of Balboa Park. Luckily, 30 years ago we found a 1917 craftsman bungalow. It is wonderful — leaded glass, bay window seat, built-in china cupboard, bookshelves, mantled fireplace, and front porch. I love our neighborhood — old houses that have character. In a city of starter homes and people trading up, our neighborhood is a real community. We’ve had the same neighbors for most of 30 years.

Often when out-of-towners think of Balboa Park, they think of the Zoo. But Balboa Park is home to the Spreckels Organ, one of the world’s largest outdoor pipe organs, installed in 1914 for the Panama-California Exposition. This unique organ contains 4,530 pipes ranging in length from the size of a pencil to 32 feet. There are free concerts throughout the summer on Sunday afternoons and Monday evenings. If you happen to be wandering around the park on a Sunday afternoon, the music is wonderful. Funny thing, San Diego is probably one of the only cities that has a civic organist.

My all-time favorite thing to do happens only one night a year. The Spreckels Organ Pavilion becomes the stage for Silent Movie Night. Several silent movies starring such greats as Charlie Chaplin or Laurel and Hardy are shown while the organ is played as one might have experienced it in any movie house before “talkies.” It is great fun and a real community event, totally free, but you have to bring your own popcorn and a jacket because even though we have great weather, after the sun goes down, the temperature drops 10 to 15 degrees. Did I listen when my Dad used to tell me to take a jacket? No. But now I always take one.

Balboa Park also is home to The Old Globe Theater. In 1998, Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas! was first produced here. Yes, Dr. Seuss — Ted Geisel — was a San Diegan. After his death, his wife gifted San Diego with the ability to first produce this holiday classic.

I love watching the otters play at Sea World. In the old days the otters had a lagoon that looked like a cove off the coast of northern California or Oregon. Now it is little more than a glorified swimming pool, which makes me kind of sad. But they are very cute little guys. Watching them is just kind of relaxing. Maybe it’s just me, vicariously playing.

Taking in the warm sun, almost every day I say, “This is why I live here.” We have roses almost year round. And in the fall, the sunlight is so beautiful. My husband, Bill Stothers, hails from Toronto. For the longest time when I said, “isn’t fall wonderful,” he’d say, “What fall?” It is so subtle that if you aren’t observant, you’ll miss it.

But for a few glorious days in late September, the sunlight shifts from directly overhead and produces the warmest golden light. Just thinking about it makes me happy.

Cyndi Jones published and edited Mainstream Magazine from 1980 until 1998. She also established the Center for an Accessible Society, which educates the public on disability issues.