Whenever we go someplace, we always remember the surroundings, people, events, feelings and tempo of that place we were once at. I have been many places in my life. This episode of the "Blogs and Forums" is dissimilar to the normal flow of the articles on this division, and deals with exactly what I described; we reminisce. My first experience with Fillmore began with driving down 126 from, I think the intersection is Castaic, where Roy Rogers once worked on the roadways there before he became famous as a singing cowboy in the movies, north of Magic Mountain. After driving for about 18 hours through the mountains and deserts in a new 1981 Buick Park Avenue, I finally reached Fillmore, just at sunset. I was not surprised by the wonderful little city I had just driven into. It was all I expected. The smell of the orange groves, the sand, the mountain air and a wisp of the Pacific Ocean to the west gradually eased me into a home-feeling, comfortable and cozy-like. Settling into the house I resided in on Sespe Avenue, neighbors were always greeting me and explaining all the nice things about Fillmore folks, places to eat, things to do, go shopping at, clubs, events, barbers, and how far it was to the beach, and other places. I'm a natural beach bum by nature. Having been "forced" every summer for a whole month of August since I was born until I reached the age of 16, to go to beaches with my mom and dad (I have no sisters or brothers) such as Old Orchard Beach, Maine, and beaches along the Florida coast, North Carolina and Virginia coast; but there is nothing like the coastal beaches of California. When I first stepped my toes into the waters of San Diego some years before I landed in Fillmore, it was like I was accomplishing something personal. But in Fillmore, so many folks there were wonderful to me. They invited me to eat dinner at their home, drink a little with the neighbors in the backyards after a fantastic BBQ or fabulous Mexican cuisine dinner! They invited me to share their family events and cultural events as well. Enjoying the climate, and the people, it was akin to the vividness of color degrees against black and white. This went on for awhile. I left, reluctantly, but returned once again, to find Fillmore even more comforting than the first time I arrived. Nothing changed. I thanked Heaven for that. Now, longing for Fillmore once again, I blog because it's my only contact with a loved and respected place I once lived in, and whose population I once knew and interfaced with. Time does "march on". So do we, in our lives, it seems. But the smells, atmosphere, culture, beauty of Fillmore, coupled with the radiant attitude of the Fillmoreites will never leave my senses, nor my heart. No words printed here in this comment can describe my feelings totally in such an affirmative or upbeat manner!