Peaceful Easy Feeling

“I like the way your sparkling earrings lay. Against your skin so brown.
And I want to sleep with you in the desert night. With a billion stars all around.”

Day 51: This week I was off to Las Vegas. Viva! It’s our annual trip that I take with my brother in laws. Technically it’s (2) bro in laws and (3) cousin - in - laws. My wife, Wendy, has (2) sisters and (3) cousins. All girls. When I first met my future father in law, Ron Malkin and his brother in law, Ivan Rowan in 1993, they were on estrogen overload. Come on. They each raised (3) daughters. Any sign of a male companion and they immediately gave you a beer, a cigar, and a lifetime pass to NFL Red Zone. Meeting Wendy put a new meaning to “marrying into the family” Over time, “The Family” came with (2) in laws, (2) aunts and uncles (10) brothers and sisters and (12) nieces and nephews. And that’s just on one side. They’re all part of the Peep Patrol, and the main reason why our fire journey has not been as hot as many others. The Peeps have helped cool our journey. The Peeps have been putting out flames left and right (unlike 1/7). But that’s another story. We are the lucky ones.

These (5) guys have been part of my family now for almost 30 years. And I like all of them, except (2). Not bad. And they know who they are. Just kidding. Maybe. As Mark says, “The girls chose well.” Boy did they ever. I think it was in 2004, when someone came up with the brilliant idea of telling the ladies, “Wouldn’t it be special if all the guys did a Vegas trip together?” Awe… We even called it the Malkin/Rowan Trip. We used their maiden names to insure our success. It worked. They actually encourage us to go annually. As Springsteen says, “A brilliant disguise.”

'“Cause I got a peaceful easy feelin'. And I know you won't let me down
'Cause I'm already standin'. On the ground.”

The Eagles at the Sphere was the main inspiration for this year’s trip. I thought the guys would enjoy an event where they felt really young and really white. Check. Check. Did you know you don’t stand during an Eagles’ concert? Most attendees can’t. I’ve never seen so many Sketchers in one place. The men’s bathroom was like a prostate exam station. Actually, I shouldn’t joke about prostate because (2 ) of the (6) of us are prostate cancer survivors. Thank God. Fuck cancer. But they probably don’t care that I joke about it. Sorry. Not sorry. Maybe sorry. In Vegas, we all share a room with another Malkin/Rowan. (2) Queens; not (1) King. That would be a little too much family comfort. Mark and I have been roommates since the first Viva Las Vegas trip. Probably because no one else wanted to room with us (or Mark). This year I learned that after prostate surgery, you shoot blanks. Mark didn’t demonstrate it. He just told me. It’s called, a “Nogasm.” I think the band “Air Supply” was named after the post prostate surgery syndrome. Air Supply had the famous prostate inspired hit, “I’m All Out Of Love.” Sing it with me…

Our Vegas trip this year was planned long before the fires. The thing is… Mark is recovering from cancer. And I’m recovering from 1057. We are “The Recoverers.” It’s another year in Vegas. It’s another year as roommates. And honestly, it felt just like another year. Even though it wasn’t. I can’t relate to Mark’s recovery. And Mark can’t relate to mine. So as most guys do; we don’t. We don’t talk about it. We revert to the norm. We fall into our comfort zone topics. Kids. Sports. Work. Wives. Poker. Golf. Vegas. Fun. Vegas memories from the past. Our favorite dinners. Our epic 1-2 poker tournament finish (yep, that happened). Our epic after dinner gluttony excursions. Nothing like a slice of pizza and a vanilla shake after a steak dinner. Don’t knock it until you travel with us. It felt familiar. (2) nights of pillow talk about the same old shit. Punt the deep discussions about cancer and 1057. Punt the (2) elephants in the room. Mark made the weekend feel familiar to me when I needed it most. I hope I returned the favor. Fuck cancer.

Fire Updates: I get a lot of feedback that the blogs are helping people stay connected to what is going on in our lives, and what many of us are dealing with. I know it’s not the same for everyone. All of our journeys are different. However, after speaking with neighbors, there are similarities. Right now, many of us are dealing with debris removal decisions. 51 days ago, I didn’t know debris removal was a thing. Now I know. Sorry, if I wrote about some of this before, but it’s still on my mind. I just found out that we have to do asbestos testing before we clear our debris. Asbestos can cause lung disease and cancer. It’s been a banned substance for years. In the 70’s, I think contractors smoked cigarettes while installing asbestos laced roof shingles. That’s where the term “double whammy” came from. Now, I need to do an asbestos test even though our house was built in 2010; has a very low likelihood of asbestos; and we are not leaving any debris onsite. I don’t think the The Asbestos Test is “true or false.” It’s done in a lab and costs a couple grand give or take. Mostly take. Take. Take.

Should we do asbestos testing? Should we do soil testing before and after? Should we go with a private company or use the Army Corps? Should we remove up to 3 feet, 6 feet or more of soil? Should we start the process ASAP? Should we wait? What are the risks if we wait and do nothing? What are the risks if we start tomorrow? “Oh debris you aren’t so fine. Oh debris you blow my mind. Hey Mickey. Hey, where’s Uncle Mickey? These are the questions that many of us are grappling with. It would seem that our leaders would communicate and set standards so the victims would not have to worry about contingent liabilities by making a wrong decision. But guess what? No standards have been set. No promises have been made. Oh, and still no word from Uncle Mickey. He is my Mom’s brother. My Uncle. He was no where to be found when my Mom was sick, and he’s still lost in MickeyLand. Not even a “Hey nephew... I know we haven’t spoken since your Mom died… but I just wanted to say…” Hey Mickey, you’re NOT fine. Hey Mickey, you blow my mind. Where’s Mickey? Hey, hey, where’s Mickey?

On Sunday, Wendy, Julia and I decided to go visit 1057. Reid lives in Austin, so it was only the (3) of us. No one except me has been back since fire day. I know what the Palisades looked like post fires. I know what it felt like driving through it. But I didn’t know exactly how the experience would feel with all (3) of us together. But I had my best guess. Prior to Sunday, I kept saying to Wendy and Julia that they needed to see it. They needed to experience it. I may have even used the phrase, “To get some closure.” In hindsight, “closure” is definitely the wrong word. There is no “closure” to grief. No matter what you lose. I forgot about the E.E. Cummings quote (Mark is E.E. Not Cummings). E.E. says, “Grief is not a task to finish and move on. But an element to yourself- an alteration of your being. A new way of seeing. A new definition of self.” How are Wendy and Julia going to take in their new way of seeing our town? A new way of seeing 1057? A new definition of self awaits.

“And I found out a long time ago. What a woman can do to your soul
Aw but she can't take you any way. You don't already know how to go.”

While making the 1057 grief drive on Sunday, I happened to be thinking long and hard about Saturday. Saturday was Justin Friedlander’s would have been 23rd birthday. Cousin Steve writes… “That leaves Depression and Acceptance. For now, I’m in the blended stage of “accepting my depression.” Life used to be filled with joy everywhere. Now it’s as if someone has thrown a wet blanket over me. Wet blankets are not comfortable. It’s hard to go to Philipe’s for that French dip when you’ve got a wet blanket over your head. It’s just not nearly as much fun as without it. But if you’re lucky, you’ll get a few moments of joy while you eat as one bite might taste particularly good. So great in fact! Too good not to share!! Wow- Justin would probably love this—I’ll text him a photo…..AND ARGH!!!- that’s right, that’s not an option anymore.”

Cousin Steve toasting Justin with a birth year vintage of the amazing Chateau Latour. Cuzzzzz, here’s to Justin! He would have loved it. ARGH!!!

As we drive the 405, the anticipation of seeing 1057 with Wendy and Julia began to mount. Aunt Merkie gave us the OY ball for moments like these.

But for this drive, I’m feeling like we could have used…

The Shit. Fuck. Damn. Sorry. Ball.

Driving the neighborhood with them was different than my solo tour a month ago. I felt their reactions. I listened to their pain. Seeing the Palisades in person is just different. Words can’t describe the grandness of it all. Even the pics below don’t do it justice (or injustice). We started towards the bluffs where Wendy and I were engaged. Then made our way into the village where we used to walk eat, and hang out. And then drove up to 1057, and felt the neighborhood loss street by street; house by house. It was hard to recognize. “Apocalyptic” as Julia described. Everything is fucking gone. It’s unrecognizable and indescribable. I felt their pain. I felt my pain. We got out of the car and walked into our house. I mean our home. I mean our lot. It was emotional. Most of the conversation was, “Here’s the washer and dryer… I think.” “Here’s our bathroom tile floor… I think.” “Here’s a couple wedding china saucers that made it…who cares.” We left 1057 not sure when we’d be back. We left 1057 not sure of anything. These are the ongoing questions. Should we rebuild? What should we do next? How long will it take? Why did this fucking happen? Who should be blamed? Mother Nature or Mother Fuckers? Send me your vote.

Our Market…

Our Starbucks…

Our Home/Lot…

“I get this feelin' I may know you. As a lover and a friend. This voice keeps whisperin' in my other ear. Tells me I may never see you again.”

While driving the Palisades that day, I caught a glimpse of Pali High’s baseball field. I love baseball fields. Dodger Stadium is my “place.” It’s another ice cream store for me. Don’t be hating the Dodgers. I read in our local newspaper that Dodger Manager, Dave Roberts and other coaches met with Pali High student athletes this week. Dave told the team, “I’m going to share this with my guys this Spring Training. You have the chance to write your own story. Who knows? They might make a movie about you someday. You’re teaching me more than I’m teaching you.”

“You get the chance to write your own story.” Hmmm… Ok Dave. You’re right. Should we stay or should we go? Should we build or should we buy? Should we dwell or should we grow? Last Sunday, Wendy and I decided to begin writing our next chapter. We potentially found our next home. So we decided to make a “Decent Proposal” for her. Why wait? On Wednesday night, after a number of sleepless nights, and a contested process, we heard that we won. We won her over! Let the threesome begin.

This is only the 2nd escrow Wendy and I have ever experienced. We’re almost virgins. We’re almost famous. The first was 1057 in 1997. Mr. Anderson (The Seller) had just lost his wife. Wendy was pregnant with Julia and Mr. Anderson wanted to spend one last Christmas in his home. One last goodbye. He had lived there for 50+ years. He was happy. He was ready. He sold 1057 to us because he saw his family in ours. Our escrow experience with Mr. Anderson was simply amazing.

The Sellers this time around are John and Robin Renfro. They remind me of Mr. Anderson. They have opened their arms to Wendy and me, and we jumped right in. We already started a group chat with them. I joked with my family that we should call it “MyrtleMates” (street name is Myrtle). Or “Myrtlelicious.” Send me your vote.

“'Cause I get a peaceful easy feelin'. And I know you won't let me down
'Cause I'm already standin'. I'm already standin'. Yes, I'm already standin'
On the ground.”

The Renfro’s were quick to recognize that Wendy and I are beginning to write our next chapter. We scribe… In the beginning there was fire… then a stay in Calabasas. Next came a quick rental in Hermosa Beach. And on Day 43, God created Myrtle, and we were introduced to The Renfro’s. Dave Roberts said, “You’re teaching me more than I’m teaching you.” I hope we are teaching The Renfro’s that no matter what happens in life, there’s always a path forward. That’s been our mantra. Yes, you get to write your own story. But The Renfro’s are also teaching us. They are teaching us how to be generous, welcoming, and graceful. And that’s not easy to do with strangers. Especially, grieving strangers. In fact, it’s nearly impossible. Definitely improbable. Chautauqua was our first novel. Myrtle is our new book. We just started Chapter 1. Our fingers are crossed for a happy ending. A very happy ending. Not a “nogasm.”

Hey Mickey. Hey, hey, where’s Mickey?