Ever since my partner and I temporarily moved from Santa Barbara’s urban Westside back to spacious Goleta in early September, I’ve felt like an erratic traveler, a sort of topographic Methuselah.
We lived in a cramped apartment on South Patterson Avenue in 1982 while she worked at UCSB’s Marine Science Institute and I taught at a local prep school. Those were sweet days before children and enjoying the “Good Land” — jogging maniacally in the foothills with guru Franko and coach Rolf Scheel and appreciating family barbecues at Tucker’s Grove Park.
In order to make ends meet, a friend and I also founded Palm Landscape and Maintenance. We savored the outdoor labor during Goleta’s sweet and sultry summers. Those were halcyon days before digital dominance and the 21st century crazed political machinations. We backpacked into the San Rafael Wilderness, and I wrote a long scholarly article about Greek history (4.1.1.).
In both Goleta and Santa Barbara, affairs were much more transparent back then: no one whining about immigration, white hyper-nationalism, or DEI and woke excesses. Republican Bob Lagomarsino was a popular politician and a “nice guy.” Perhaps our Goleta period four decades ago represented those vaunted days of a simpler America, a “golden age” that both right and left hark back to today. Ahh, if it were so simple!
My partner’s physical calamity in September — two badly fractured ankles — obliged us to make this months-long switch to our old Goleta stomping grounds 43 years after we’d moved away to Santa Barbara’s tightly packed Westside.
This journey has morphed into a travel odyssey spanning time and space despite the mere 11 miles separating our 950-square-foot home from Goleta’s golden suburban shores.
In truth, we’ve also experienced a trifecta of dislocations because of a fire insurance requirement to change the 95-year-old knob-and-tube electrical system. When renovations began, we at first lived in a 260-square-foot Westside studio apartment. After the dislocated ankles, we shifted to the Marriott Residence Inn on Hollister Avenue in Goleta.
All of that is to clarify why two 77-year-olds bearing a burdensome mortgage are engaging in three physical moves between September and December. I’m asking readers to step back and consider how these unforeseen zig-zags defy that “pattern-thinking” most human minds require to make a bit of sense of the reality facing them.
At first, I couldn’t figure out exactly where to shop or find decent takeout food, just as our country can’t figure out what to do about Ukraine or Gaza, or even the rowdy U.S. fans’ ugly behavior at the Ryder Cup (which we lost 15-13). Judy wondered what happened to Two Guys, dating both of us horribly.
I require access to books and quickly managed to locate the (temporary) Goleta Library just a couple of blocks away on the same Hollister Avenue where our temporary digs are. Housed in part of this picturesque structure at Hollister Avenue and Los Carneros Way, these tomes provide all the reading I need.
The observations that strike us as different in today’s Goleta include the cool industrial buildings along Hollister Avenue opposite the “new” airport tower (rebuilt in 1998). This poses the question: Why is the Santa Barbara Airport out here in the city of Goleta?
Goleta historian Tom Modugno explains how this “shoestring annexation” occurred here — such a shady maneuver would be illegal today, but the airport remains within Santa Barbara city limits.
Today’s Goleta features several stark alterations from the quaint unincorporated sleepy town of 33,000 from 1980 to 1982, when we lived there. What happened to the iconic Bray’s 101 Restaurant where I first had a meal with my mother in 1966 while checking out UCSB? I learn that it closed in 1987, but that Benny Bray had been forced to move it from a Santa Barbara location earlier in 1960. Obviously, there are many changes that occurred before the changes my partner and I have seen.
The “new” Fairview Shopping Center was completed in 1964 and within 20 years “… the area between the highway [at Fairview] and the foothills was pretty much all developed,” according to Modugno.
Goleta incorporated in 2002, so today there is a city of Goleta, and it apparently succumbed to state planners, which has resulted in the tremendous building boom we observe in 21st century Goleta. I noticed the vast expansion of the original Fairview Shopping Center along Calle Real with Trader Joe’s and many other shops extending toward Patterson Avenue (the “new” fire station there is vital, though).
Why does Old Town Goleta still feel quaint and slower despite the ridiculous “new” angled/backout parking spaces?
Yet Goleta retains some of the relaxed feel that Santa Barbara has lost. The historic Timbers Roadhouse restaurant remains, reminding me that I once toiled there as a gardener at minimum wage. Today, Goleta residents enjoy the relaxed atmosphere and neighborliness of the Los Carneros Dam dinner held there every August. The Goleta Lemon Festival continues strong as do several other community gatherings.
Creation of the magnificent open space at Ellwood Bluffs — officially Santa Barbara Shores Park — has been an enormous accomplishment.
Goleta’s then-mayor, Jean Blois, called this preservation of Ellwood Mesa’s 118 acres, with the crucial eucalyptus grove protecting the monarch butterflies, “one of the city’s most significant accomplishments.” Click here for the tangled history of this successful preservation effort.
As an inveterate hiker exiled to late 2025 Goleta, I’ve found hiking around Ellwood a vital way to exercise, observe wildlife and roam above the vast Pacific Ocean.
Goleta now boasts 25-acre Girsh Park near the Camino Real Marketplace development, and Tucker’s Grove and Stow Grove parks remain sparkling gems for local residents.
As a nation, we’re experiencing astounding changes in how the world observes us; as an individual, I’m witnessing a much-altered yet still attractive Goleta 43 years after moving away “to town.” The feeling is one of a spatial Rip Van Winkle’s return to “the Good Land” despite many alterations, much expansion, the usual land-use controversies, and gobs of friendly people making their way in the confusing USA of 2025.
Like the hiker and backpacker I’ve been since the early 1970s, my mantra remains “pack small, think big, and embrace the changes forced upon you by life and digital imperialism.” My partner and I recall the wonders of 1980s Goleta by comparing them to today’s bustling town, and we find it mostly positive.
The topographic zig-zags forced upon us do challenge the “pattern-thinking” most human minds need to make sense of the kaleidoscopic realities confronting them. Here in Goleta, I can’t slip over to DJ’s hamburger stand anymore or have dinner at the Blue Ox; however, the beach still beckons, and Goleta folks remain resilient and quite friendly.
4.1.1.
“Polybius, Phylarchus and the Mantineian Tragedy” in “Archaiognosia” (University of Athens), 1986.