Tourist Town
I would like to formally apologize to the tourists, for living in Petaluma before they discovered it.
I realize now this was presumptuous of me. Had I known my hometown would become a recreational backdrop for other people’s Instagrammable weekends, I would have cleared out decades ago. These days, Petaluma feels less like my town and more like I accidentally wandered into a brand activation.
I recently overheard a visitor ask if Petaluma is “authentic.” I wanted to tell them yes—it was, right up until they asked that question.
Parking, once a minor inconvenience, has become Sisyphean. I now budget 20 extra minutes just to circle the block and go home. It’s the Netflix menu of small town living.
To be clear, I understand tourism is good for the economy. I enjoy commerce. I even enjoy a good oat-milk latte. What I don’t enjoy is feeling like a non-player character in my own life while someone else documents “discovering” my once favorite cafe.
So by all means, visit Petaluma. Eat, drink, stroll, photograph, hashtag. Just remember: authentic people live here too, and you’re not one of us until you’re tired of being one of them.
Cassady Caution
Petaluma
Ignoble Prize
I’m sorry to hear Maria Corina Machado’s Nobel Prize can’t be transferred to Donald Trump, because I was kinda hoping I could get Martin Scorsese’s Oscar and some of Jeff Bezos’ money transferred to my bank account.
Craig J. Corsini
San Rafael
