Old Town’s hanging flower pots are tended by Alan. Our recent conversation went like this: Me: “I sure appreciate all you do to keep the flowers so fresh and beautiful.” Alan: “God takes care of that. I just add water.”

Living in Old Town Eureka, it’s easy to get despondent and cynical about the State of It All. A guy peeing across the alley from us (who turns abusive when reminded he’s on camera); blooms plucked from boardwalk flower containers as soon as they might make a buck or two on the street; our Little Free Library ransacked, yet again; and junk—clothes, furniture, food wrappers—strewn hither and yonder. 

And then—this morning, outside Eureka Books (“The Lowenthal Building, American Eclectic 1879”), a couple around our ages from Amsterdam, cycling from Vancouver to San Francisco. “It’s just charming, like Europe!” she gushes. “Very attractive. You live here? You’re so lucky!” 

Amsterdam’s attractive—we once lived there—but it’s a city, relieved by several huge parks, and, of course, canals. But still a city. Bikes are routinely stolen (here, they just take the wheels); traffic is pretty intense; and bikes are everywhere: fast bikes, laden down with kids, daunting to less-skilled cyclists who weren’t born into a two-wheeled culture.

Buoyed by Dutch enthusiasm for my hometown, I spent a happy hour with a camera, reminding myself of the sort of charms a visitor might notice. As the facilitator of long-ago meetings would decree, prior to our weekly check-in, “Only good news!”

We’re awash in murals. (Check out Rees Hughes’ “Mural Walk“ here.) Duane Flatmo—he of El Pulpo Mecanico—spent six months creating his 70 ft. x 70 ft. mural on the back of the Arkley Center, using the same grid-scaling technique he’d employed in 1984 when creating his first Eureka mural for Bucksport on Broadway.

The Arkley Center faces a car park and Randy Spicer’s paean to the Performing Arts, with the 3D-est view of Satchmo you’re ever going to see.

Then there’s our very own trompe l’oeil. Stand on the red footprints at the corner of 3rd and H, squint a bit and the illusion is complete.

It’s hard to pass by William Carson’s folly at the end of 2nd Street without encountering furriners snapping and selfie-ing. (But why oh why did the Ingomar honchos put up that hideous black fence around the rest of the grounds???)

Get past the fence and there’s our new (21-year old) County Library. I love it. Almost as much as Eureka’s 1904 Carnegie Library (one of 2,509 public libraries funded by Andrew Carnegie), now Morris Graves, Home of the Octagon.

Speaking of old buildings taking on a new lease on life, look up as you pass by the Clarke Museum (Classical Revival, 1911).

Plaque on the 3rd Street side of the Clarke celebrating the life of John Tutuska, 1945-2012, Old Town’s best-known sunbather, missed by many of us. This was his spot for many years.

We got sculptures. Linda Wise’s noble horse stands guard to Myrtle Avenue, just off 5th. 

Not to mention Jack Sewell’s Following Current Events, with its three two rotating seagulls. 

Parklets! New, new, new! Which have turned out to be a happy addition to the Old Town scene (not, as some predicted, hangouts for non-customers).

And hey, a bird-filled beach, looking more natural and less artificial every passing day.

So much more: Dick Crane’s fisherman at the west end of Woodley Island; Melvin Schuler’s copper pillar in Clarke Plaza; the one-year-at-a-time sculptures in Market Square; SpeakEasy’s lavender-colored courtyard; our twin Roman-numeral clocks on 2nd Street; the gorgeously restored Northern California Indian Development Council building at 3rd and F…

…and finally, kissing trees. C Street.

Just like Europe.

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Barry Evans gave the best years of his life to civil engineering, and what thanks did he get? In his dotage, he travels, kayaks, meditates and writes for the Journal and the Humboldt Historian. He sucks at 8 Ball. Buy his Field Notes anthologies at any local bookstore. Please.