During my first break walk I happened upon a fellow controlling a slowly-moving electronic cart holding a large shark sculpture. He was crossing a busy-ish road in dappled light and I thought oncoming cars might not be able to see him, so I helpfully stopped traffic. The drivers seemed fine with that, several commenting on the beauty of the piece before moving on.

After this Mulberry-Street-level vision gained the relative safety of a parking lot, I had several questions. He introduced himself as The Sculptor of Santa Cruz. He makes metal sculptures and takes them on trips to the beach, where he engages bystanders in discussions of art and place. He recently tired of dragging this one around so he installed some motors on the cart, which he was testing out today. It was easier to move, he said, but also slower, and not completely intuitive to control.

This sort of fellow I imagine will make continuous improvements.

His name is Jim Herbert, and he’s written a book about himself that shares his chosen moniker, published last year. Self-published? Definitely on Amazon. I think this is his lifelong career, though the traveling exhibit part may have been a reaction to the pandemic.

Clearly, I need to acquire and read his book.

Santa Cruz is crammed with such characters, and one wonders why. Does something about SC’s setting or climate inspire individuality? Are quirky personalities drawn to the area for its relatively laid-back vibe? Did an offbeat community form here randomly then grow by like attracting like? Is the California fruits and nuts reputation real?

Not that Jim seemed nutty. On the contrary, he made a lot of sense, and seemed committed to enriching his community. I would say he succeeds.

On Brookline streets, the surprise spotting was usually a former presidential candidate, a major league sports team owner, or a celebrity chef, also interesting but not a chance to engage. It’s not polite to take pictures of those, for example, and it’s unlikely to end up as a casual conversation, not unless there’s another link, like each of you watching your kids perform in the same band concert. Oppotunities ramped up a bit each year during the week preceding Patriot’s Day, when the re-enactors emerge, tricorn hats and muskets everywhere, their bearers sometimes running and shooting smoke puff blanks.

Rounding the corner to discover the unexpected isn’t an everyday experience in SC either, yet I’m struck by how often I end up taking a picture or picking up a dinner table topic during my daily work break walks.

In my imagination, any town in Florida out-startles SC by an order of magnitude. I never see someone using an alligator to rob a store, or disappearing into a sinkhole while walking down the sidewalk, or waving an automatic rifle. There’s crazy here too, but it’s a little more Chill. Our crazier ones have their houses de-haunted before selling them, and avoid the vaccine because it gives you Covid; not completely harmless, but not Darwin Award fodder.