While I am more than willing to take chances, I'm not much of a gambler. So I found myself chuckling in my head as I walked toward the Seabiscuit statue at Santa Anita Racetrack in Arcadia.
I've been there a couple of times before. I've gone to the infield to see the Boy Scout gathering that used to take place in the late fall. I've gone there to meet the good members of the Pasadena Mexican American History Association - they used to have a regular fundraiser there in the fall.
I've even been to a breakfast in the Grandstand where I gave the invocation. Talk about philosophical mixed metaphors.
But today James and I were going to meet our good friends and actually do what the buildings were meant to house - betting and horse racing.
Initially it felt strange to be there, because I was reminded that Santa Anita was one of the places where Japanese and Japanese Americans were sent during WWII before being sent off to camp. James hadn't heard that before. I had, and I was struck by the sheer immensity of the act and the size of the facility. I had to wonder what folks felt as drew closer to the buildings.
And I put away more thought about that experience for the time being.
The architecture was all long slender lines, with long shadows, and a good deal of horse imagery thrown into the mix. I kept finding myself being struck by the volume of the buildings.
On, and on, and on the different segments went.
Nothing was human sized.
Even the palm tress seem to make sense here. And I don't like palm trees. A very foreign experience overall for me.
As far as the wagering is considered there's not much to share.
There are times when consistency may not be viewed as a virtue.