Loves Me Like A Rock

Day 58: Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. 1/7/25 was Ash Tuesday. It’s been almost 2 months since the fires, and and I’m still blogging. I’m surprised because I haven’t been able to stay on a diet for 2 months. Ever. Writing a blog is easier that dieting. Both show early results. Both get harder over time. There is a temptation to stop. Like many goals, you are primarily accountable to yourself. But in writing this blog, I feel more accountable to others. Your feedback fuels my accountability. Maybe that’s the key? Accountability. Thank you. I’m not the most goal - oriented person. I haven’t really lived my life defining goal after goal. I know many people who live that way and are very good at it. Once, one of my goals was to read a book about goals. I didn’t finished it. Shit. A lot of times, I set a goal, but then I settle on the result. I’m a “goal settler”. My goal objective is to write one blog post each week for a year. I set out to document my post fire journey. I want to share my story and use my blogging for therapy. For healing. For helping. For feeling not numb. For trying to not sound dumb. For inspiration, perspiration, anticipation and admiration. That sounds dumb.

Sponsor: Jeff’s Blog is sponsored by Jeff’s Blog. Please Subscribe and Share. My goal hope is to continue raising money for fire victims. Thanks.

“When I was a little boy (When I was just a boy). And the devil would call my name (When I was just a boy). I'd say, now who do (Who). Who do you think you're foolin' (When I was just a boy)”

This week, “The what are you going to do with 1057?” question seemed to come up more and more. It’s a natural curiosity. I get it. News articles are talking about land sales, prices, supply and demand. It makes sense to ask questions about our path forward. Wendy and I talk about it all the time. There were over 5,000 homes destroyed in our community. Yep, I counted them. Many people lost their home equity overnight. Their nest egg. The decision to sell or build back is complicated. It may depend on your loan amount, your age, or how long you lived in the Palisades. Older owners, with older homes, tend to have smaller mortgages and more of their equity is allocated to their land value (versus their structure). For them, it might make sense to sell their burnt land now. Time is ticking. Time is money. For younger owners with children, school issues, and less attachment to the Palisades, they also may decide to move on. Wendy and I have been in the Palisades for 27 years. It’s ingrained in who we are. The Palisades defined us. It’s not a simple decision to sell. To detach. To move on.

Being in escrow on the Myrtle property has unexpectedly created a feeling of loss for me, Wendy and the kids. Committing to a new home feels like we have decided to move on (by default). To leave 1057 behind. Maybe it’s grieving. Maybe it’s reality. Who knows? But Myrtle is “not yet” as much of a “Silver Lining” as she appears. Yes, she’s beautiful and she’s very hot. But she’s a replacement property. A replacement for something we loved. And that’s becoming a cold reality. Even though she’s still very hot.

Through this journey, I’ve learned that “Silver Linings” are best defined by the people going through their shit. Not by the ones observing people going through their shit. The shit doesn’t have to be death or loss, it could be any difficult situation. My advice is to ask questions. Like, “I’m curious, can you share any silver linings you may be experiencing?” Don’t say, “Well at least you…” or “Well it sure looks like…” That’s the same as telling people how “you” think they should feel. That doesn’t work well on a lot of people. Ask them how they feel. Observe how they feel. Let their feelings drive the conversation, not yours. Julia said “Just go along for the ride and meet people where they are.” Julia was referring to spending time with Hannah, who lost her brother. Her comments are insightful. When people are going through difficult times their emotional swings are wider than you anticipate. You just can’t predict how they are feeling day by day. It moves quickly. Be a listener. Ask questions. They may not be “Silver Lining Ready”. 1057 has a 27 year lead on Myrtle. It’s going to take time.

Adjusting to a new home, a new city, is for sure going to take time. We will first need to take baby steps. Writing that made me laugh, because making an offer on a home was no baby step. It was a King Kong step. Whatever. My point is we will adjust day by day. I guess. In the book, The Balance Equation, they define baby steps as Micro-moves™— “Small, actionable changes that help you immediately start improving areas of your life. These tiny steps create positive momentum and can set the tone for a brighter future.” I was on the Peleton yesterday and searching the leaderboard for Mile High Nana. She wasn’t in my class this week. Probably on a long flight somewhere fun. I thought about Micro-moves that Mile High Nana had to take. She didn’t just jump into the bathroom with Papa on Flight 69 to Vegas did she? She probably had to create Micro-moves in order to achieve her goal dream. Maybe, she first ordered a round of drinks. Then she created her “Lavatory Closed For Repairs” sign to help buy some time. Jess Simms, my Peleton instructor was talking about “Micro-moments” which are small thoughts to help you achieve something bigger. They are conscious moments that enable positive actions. A positive direction. A path forward. Micro - moments were the positive affirmations that Mile High Nana felt when she decided to bang Papa in front of seat 16A. The mindset that if there’s a will, there’s a way. Micro -moments are about the mind. Micro - moves are about the action. Both concepts resonate with me. Micro movements feel more obtainable that setting huge long term goals. They are great strategies to start positive changes. Like writing a blog for a year. Maybe it’s better just to think about what I am feeling this week, this day, this moment. I’m currently feeling like I am 4 paragraphs in, and I didn’t expect Mile High Nana to be this week’s theme.

“I'm a consecrated boy (When I was just a boy). I'm a singer in a Sunday choir
Oh, my mama loves me, she loves me. She get down on her knees and hug me
Like she loves me like a rock. She rocks me like the rock of ages and loves me.”

Both my parents, Stan and Judi, passed away in 2021. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about them. Not because my Mom was in the Mile High Nana Club. Although, she was a Nana. I think about them more because my life has changed in so many ways since 1/7. And until recently, I’d get to share my life with them. They were the first people I’d called when I got a job. Gotta Fiance. Gotta Wife. Got pregnant. Gotta house. Lost a house. Got diarrhea. My parents always listened, but they weren’t “the best” listeners. I can hear my sister Jackie laughing. My Dad would go straight into “solve the problem” mode. He loved to give advice. Hmmmm… I love to give advice. The apple doesn’t fall far… It depends how tall the tree is. My Dad and I were similar height 5’10.5’’. That’s a Jewish 6’. Lately, I’ve been hearing his voice in my head. I hear a conversation like, “Hi Dad. Wendy and I just learned that our house didn’t make it. It all burned down.” He’d respond, “At least you, Wendy and the kids are ok. That’s what’s most important.” He’d add, “Who’s your insurance carrier? I hope you have good insurance?.” He’d continue, “I saw on Fox News that Karen Bass was in Africa on a safari during the fires. How could she leave her city during such a crisis?” I’d interrupt, “I don’t think she was on a safari. But thanks, we are all ok. I have diarrhea.”

I keep hearing that conversation. I actually miss that conversation. As frustrating as I know it may have been, I still miss it. Another one I hear is, “Hey Dad, Wendy and I just put an offer on a new home.” He’d say, “Congratulations. Are you sure you want to move so soon?” He’d add, “Prices must be high right now because of the fires.” He’d continue, “Well, that Fire Chief had it coming. And Karen Bass and Newsom aren’t doing you any favors by how they are handling everything. How are Julia and Reid? I haven’t heard from them in awhile.” I’d answer, “They are still pretty shaken from the fires. Wendy too. I have diarrhea.” I miss that conversation. But at least I can still hear it.

I know the above makes a little fun of my Dad. I was good at that. Especially as I got older. But I also recognize there is a lot of my Dad in me. There’s also a lot of my Mom in me. Our parents frustrate us at times. I know my kids feel the same. By the way, they are also good at making fun of me. It’s the part of me in them.

“When I was grown to be a man (Grown to be a man). And the devil would call my name (Grown to be a man). I'd say, now who do (Who). Who do you think you're foolin' (Grown to be a man). I'm a consummated man (Grown to be a man)
I can snatch a little purity. My mama loves me, she loves me.”

The opposite of frustration is satisfaction. Our parents offer both. How come we end up focusing more on the former than the later? I think because it’s easier. It’s easier to critique than to praise. It’s easier to disagree than to agree. It’s easier to talk than to listen. So let’s do the hard thing. Let’s give our parents the credit they deserve. Even if they are no longer around (like mine). If you take a hard look in the mirror you will see parts of your parents. Lately, I’ve been looking more and more. Going deeper and deeper. Maybe because they are no longer here to listen to my shit. So I’ve been searching. Grasping. Listening for their guidance and unfiltered reactions. Here’s what I found:

1. My Mom’s positivity influenced my initial response to 1057 burning down.

2. My Dad’s loyalty and generosity inspired me to help raise money for other victims.

3. My Mom’s family first mindset helped me comfortably accept help from my Peeps with the utmost gratitude.

4. My Dad’s work ethic helped me focus daily on the right path forward.

5. My Mom’s loving nature guided me to not lose focus on Wendy, Julia and Reid.

6. My Dad’s sense of humor helped me not take it all too seriously (at times).

7. My Mom’s lust for life influenced my decisiveness on Myrtle.

Thanks Mom and Dad. You are helping me get through this. Helping me get through life. I love you. I miss you. I still hear you.

“And if I was President (Was the President). The minute congress call my name (Was the President). I'd say now, who do (who). Who do you think you're foolin' (Who do you think you're foolin'). I've got the Presidential seal (Was the President). I'm up on the Presidential podium.”

Sticking with the family theme. My sister Jackie and brother in law Creigh came over on Sunday. It was the first time I saw my sister since the fires. If I were my Dad, I’d say, “Hey stranger.” That’s because it’s what his dad would have said to him. The family guilt gets passed down. From generation to generation - “L’Dor Va -Dorwhere Have You Been?” I’m officially ending our family guilt. My sister and I love each other. We see each other when we can. We don’t force it, and we always cherish our time together. No judgement. No criticism. Just love. It was so nice to see her. She’s so much like my Mom in so many ways. She brought gifts for me, Wendy, Julia, and Reid. And they all had a family theme. Family 1st. She made me a “lost photo album” that brought tears to my eyes. It’s weird. I’m not really a look through photo albums guy. But when they all burned, and no longer on the coffee table, I feel the loss. It’s painful even though I didn’t sit with them much. It’s kinda like the gun people (not really). They don’t really plan on using their guns, but they psychologically feel comfortable that their guns are close by. But you take a way the guns and they feel vulnerable. I understand. The photos are under the coffee table and I’m comfortable. You burn my pics and I feel the lost memories. Say “No More Cheese”. It’s painful.

Our last picture together…

Although my Mom passed away in 2021, she had an illness where she stopped communicating many years ago. It was a long goodbye. No one is ever 100% prepared for a loved one’s death. However, I think my Dad, my sister and I were as prepared as we could be. Her slight tremors started about 8 years prior. Then the disease just started to take over and her doctors informed us there was no cure. It would just take time. There is something about death prep that makes it easier on everyone when the day actually comes. However, the pain of watching the slow decline is not easy. Which is better? Is there a better? I know every situation is different. For the patient, I know the answer is you want to live long and die fast. But for loved ones, the unexpected death is so hard to deal with. 1057 was an unexpected death. My Mom’s was a long goodbye. Which one was more painful? Which death was harder?

“My mama loves me, she loves me. She get down on her knees and hug me
Like she loves me like a rock. She rock me like the rock of ages and loves me.”

I have to be honest with myself. I have to be honest with you. The death of 1057 has been harder. No doubt, I loved my Mom more than 1057. But her actual death day was expected. I was able to prepare and it was time. She was finally at peace. 1057 was a shock. It was unexpected. It was unimaginable. It felt similar to the news when I first heard about Joe, about Markus, about Justin. There was no death prep time. There was only immediate shock. Shock is the opposite of peace. I just re-read my first blog, Burning Down The House, I was in shock when I wrote it. I loved 1057 and I loved my Mom. The Silver Lining is no matter what type of death, or for whatever shit life shall bring, I know how to act. I know how to be. I know I can move on. Large in part because I know she loved me…

She loved me like a rock! Her “Golden Scrotum.”