When I walk along Cannery Row, I don’t see the new shops and tourist traps of today. Instead, my mind goes back to the year 1945, the Great Depression, and the hard working migrant workers that helped build this land.

I try to see it as Steinbeck saw it.

The old buildings that still remain here from when the novel was first written…Lee Chong’s grocery, Doc’s marine lab, the sardine canneries themselves…speak of the hard work and loud revelry that happened in and around the decaying walls.

I rise early to have Cannery Row to myself, that is myself and a few hard working sanitation workers. I sip my coffee in silence and wave my hand in silent greeting as they pass me by. It’s times like this when I feel the most at peace with the world.

The sun rises over the cloudy Bay, waking resting birds on the seashore. Time for all of us to be moving on….

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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