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Rolando has the real cool catwalks
It's an adventure, if you want it to be
Laco Drive, which translates roughly to “memory lane.”
“Come on. Get your shoes on!” I called to my husband Jim as I stood by our front door. I could hear him grumbling from the other room. We are each other’s exercise coach. It works well for us, except when it doesn’t. I guess the post-holiday caloric fallout was motivating me.
We headed down Estelle Street and took our first right down Laco, which boasts a whopping total of three homes. It might be San Diego’s shortest thoroughfare. Jim looked up at the first house we passed. “That was David’s house. His bedroom was right in the front. That one right there,” he said, pointing to an ordinary bedroom window.
I have lived with my husband in our home for 20 years, a home he inherited from his parents. Jim moved to this neighborhood when he was six years old. Today, walking the streets of Rolando never fails to elicit some sort of accounting of his youth. I have heard most of his neighborhood stories, including this one. But I nodded my head anyway. “Did you guys ever crawl out that window?”
Paseo de Los Coyotes: one of Rolando’s secret catwalks.
“No, we didn’t crawl out his window, but we did make it over to Tony’s house whenever possible when I was a teen.” Tony’s house was just down the street from us, and, if legend has it true, a bomb site for parties. I was never clear on where Tony’s parents were during these parties, but I wasn’t about to question the legend.
“Don’t tell me you went over there and smoked a big fat one,” I exclaimed to my husband, knowing full well what his answer would be.
“Of course we did!” he laughed. “We listened to music, hoped that girls would show up, and passed around a big fat one.”
“Oh my God,” I said in mock disgust. “Did you guys ever do anything legal?”
He harrumphed, pretending to be slighted. “We knew it was illegal, but that was half the fun. We were a product of our times, and besides, we were the smart kids, the honors kids at Crawford High School that discreetly smoked pot. We were above average, not like the druggies or Redders that took barbiturates to get high. There WAS a difference between the two, you know.” This was not the first time we had had this conversation either, and it never failed to amuse me.
We reached the end of Laco, and I looked down at the date stamped into the corner sidewalk. It read 1928. If you look closely, you can find our 1920s California bungalows, usually tucked well off the street at the end of long driveways, seemingly not conforming to the more suburban layout of the rest of the neighborhood. I love the intrigue that these older homes bring. “They must have laid down the infrastructure for this neighborhood — streets, sidewalks, utilities — in the ‘20s, built a few homes and then abandoned the project when everything went bust during the Depression,” I said.
Sign of the times.
We crossed the street and made for one of the eight catwalks that Rolando offers: combinations of ramps and stairs sprinkled throughout the neighborhood between our serpentine streets. Rolando might be rectangular in dimension, but its interior streets wind up, over, and around. (Given the steep topography, a gridded layout was not possible.) “Can you imagine current developers voluntarily designing catwalks into their plans for new construction?” I asked Jim. “It just wouldn’t happen.”
He agreed and then added. “La Mesa has their ‘secret staircases’ that everyone knows about, but we’re the ones that have the real secret. Hardly anyone knows about our catwalks.”
“This is Rolando’s hidden genius,” I said. “Mark my words, this will be the next popular San Diego urban neighborhood. Kind of like Hillcrest was a few years ago. Or, North Park, or Talmadge, or El Cerrito. We are the new cool neighborhood of San Diego. It helps that we are so close to San Diego State. I feel like we are a university community. I love seeing college students in our grocery stores and restaurants. Mingling with them. Picking up on their vibe. It keeps us aware, and awards us social currency.”
“Yeah, as long as they keep their party tendencies in check,” Jim groused.
Even though I agreed with him, I couldn’t help poking fun. “And you never, ever let that happen to you in your day?”
“Never!” he proclaimed, a big grin on his face. “We were always quiet and well-behaved.” He changed the subject. “Do you want to go up?” he asked, pointing to a catwalk with a stairway so lengthy, you couldn’t see the top.
“Sure,” I called out and started the climb.
As I climbed, I told Jim, “I want to design a board game like Chutes and Ladders for the neighborhood, only it will be Rolando Rungs and Rails — something like that. It will be a board game with all the streets and catwalks marked out, some rungs to walk up and some rails to slide down. The catwalks will be the rungs and rails. And then I’m going to sell it as a fundraiser at the Rolando Street Fair.”
Upcoming Event
Rolando Street Fair
- Sunday, March 23, 2025, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
- ,
- Age Limit: All ages / Free
As we caught our breath at the top of the climb, I said, “Let’s make our way towards your old little league field and then circle back.” The little league field is located in the southeast corner of Rolando, and has been there since Jim was a child. Lost in memory, he mused, “We used to ride our bikes down here, Jess, Greg and I. All over this neighborhood, actually. My parents never really knew where we were.”
“Yah, I bet that worked out for you when you became a teen as well,” I kidded.
Jim smiled wryly. “Yes, and we all turned out just fine.”
This is true. Jim has an astounding number of great friends that he still keeps in touch with, friends who went to Crawford High School and used to live in this neighborhood. They still get together, sometimes in our home — which was where we were headed. The best part about walking in Rolando is that you don’t have to cross any major streets. Following the sidewalks and the catwalks will take you in any number of directions, but if you avoid the boundary streets, you will eventually find your way back home. It’s an adventure, if you want it to be.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Rolando has the real cool catwalks
It's an adventure, if you want it to be
Rolando has the real cool catwalks
It's an adventure, if you want it to be
Laco Drive, which translates roughly to “memory lane.”
“Come on. Get your shoes on!” I called to my husband Jim as I stood by our front door. I could hear him grumbling from the other room. We are each other’s exercise coach. It works well for us, except when it doesn’t. I guess the post-holiday caloric fallout was motivating me.
We headed down Estelle Street and took our first right down Laco, which boasts a whopping total of three homes. It might be San Diego’s shortest thoroughfare. Jim looked up at the first house we passed. “That was David’s house. His bedroom was right in the front. That one right there,” he said, pointing to an ordinary bedroom window.
I have lived with my husband in our home for 20 years, a home he inherited from his parents. Jim moved to this neighborhood when he was six years old. Today, walking the streets of Rolando never fails to elicit some sort of accounting of his youth. I have heard most of his neighborhood stories, including this one. But I nodded my head anyway. “Did you guys ever crawl out that window?”
Paseo de Los Coyotes: one of Rolando’s secret catwalks.
“No, we didn’t crawl out his window, but we did make it over to Tony’s house whenever possible when I was a teen.” Tony’s house was just down the street from us, and, if legend has it true, a bomb site for parties. I was never clear on where Tony’s parents were during these parties, but I wasn’t about to question the legend.
“Don’t tell me you went over there and smoked a big fat one,” I exclaimed to my husband, knowing full well what his answer would be.
“Of course we did!” he laughed. “We listened to music, hoped that girls would show up, and passed around a big fat one.”
“Oh my God,” I said in mock disgust. “Did you guys ever do anything legal?”
He harrumphed, pretending to be slighted. “We knew it was illegal, but that was half the fun. We were a product of our times, and besides, we were the smart kids, the honors kids at Crawford High School that discreetly smoked pot. We were above average, not like the druggies or Redders that took barbiturates to get high. There WAS a difference between the two, you know.” This was not the first time we had had this conversation either, and it never failed to amuse me.
We reached the end of Laco, and I looked down at the date stamped into the corner sidewalk. It read 1928. If you look closely, you can find our 1920s California bungalows, usually tucked well off the street at the end of long driveways, seemingly not conforming to the more suburban layout of the rest of the neighborhood. I love the intrigue that these older homes bring. “They must have laid down the infrastructure for this neighborhood — streets, sidewalks, utilities — in the ‘20s, built a few homes and then abandoned the project when everything went bust during the Depression,” I said.
Sign of the times.
We crossed the street and made for one of the eight catwalks that Rolando offers: combinations of ramps and stairs sprinkled throughout the neighborhood between our serpentine streets. Rolando might be rectangular in dimension, but its interior streets wind up, over, and around. (Given the steep topography, a gridded layout was not possible.) “Can you imagine current developers voluntarily designing catwalks into their plans for new construction?” I asked Jim. “It just wouldn’t happen.”
He agreed and then added. “La Mesa has their ‘secret staircases’ that everyone knows about, but we’re the ones that have the real secret. Hardly anyone knows about our catwalks.”
“This is Rolando’s hidden genius,” I said. “Mark my words, this will be the next popular San Diego urban neighborhood. Kind of like Hillcrest was a few years ago. Or, North Park, or Talmadge, or El Cerrito. We are the new cool neighborhood of San Diego. It helps that we are so close to San Diego State. I feel like we are a university community. I love seeing college students in our grocery stores and restaurants. Mingling with them. Picking up on their vibe. It keeps us aware, and awards us social currency.”
“Yeah, as long as they keep their party tendencies in check,” Jim groused.
Even though I agreed with him, I couldn’t help poking fun. “And you never, ever let that happen to you in your day?”
“Never!” he proclaimed, a big grin on his face. “We were always quiet and well-behaved.” He changed the subject. “Do you want to go up?” he asked, pointing to a catwalk with a stairway so lengthy, you couldn’t see the top.
“Sure,” I called out and started the climb.
As I climbed, I told Jim, “I want to design a board game like Chutes and Ladders for the neighborhood, only it will be Rolando Rungs and Rails — something like that. It will be a board game with all the streets and catwalks marked out, some rungs to walk up and some rails to slide down. The catwalks will be the rungs and rails. And then I’m going to sell it as a fundraiser at the Rolando Street Fair.”
Upcoming Event
Rolando Street Fair
- Sunday, March 23, 2025, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
- ,
- Age Limit: All ages / Free
As we caught our breath at the top of the climb, I said, “Let’s make our way towards your old little league field and then circle back.” The little league field is located in the southeast corner of Rolando, and has been there since Jim was a child. Lost in memory, he mused, “We used to ride our bikes down here, Jess, Greg and I. All over this neighborhood, actually. My parents never really knew where we were.”
“Yah, I bet that worked out for you when you became a teen as well,” I kidded.
Jim smiled wryly. “Yes, and we all turned out just fine.”
This is true. Jim has an astounding number of great friends that he still keeps in touch with, friends who went to Crawford High School and used to live in this neighborhood. They still get together, sometimes in our home — which was where we were headed. The best part about walking in Rolando is that you don’t have to cross any major streets. Following the sidewalks and the catwalks will take you in any number of directions, but if you avoid the boundary streets, you will eventually find your way back home. It’s an adventure, if you want it to be.
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