Rain. AT LAST.
Hey, I live in L.A. It’s been awhile. I actually missed the rain. Just like I miss Bay Area fog (acquired taste, I admit). And although I am actually working this afternoon — putting the finishing touches on an eclectic grouping of e-blasts and flyers and web pages, I’m also dreaming and dazing and gazing out at the veritable deluge that has already transformed my neighborhood and is probably causing a spate of traffic snarls and slow downs and commuter headaches as I speak/write these words. I’m loving it. Enough of the oppressive heat and the dead grass and the fires. Make way for the three-dog nights and the leaks in the roof and the mudslides…Yippee!
I know. Over the top. No mudslides, please.
But I do ramble on. Thinking about how much I preferred the writing of my novel to the promotion of it. Not to say that the press releases and the pitch letters and the author’s notes and the twitters and the hype don’t have their own particular charm for a seasoned wordsmith such as myself, but I’m missing the rush that accompanies a finished page of fiction. Time to start the next book. This one’s going to be about ghosts. The supernatural kind and the metaphorical kind. And home. And absent hangs and haunts. And friends.
Friendship. Being a late bloomer when it comes to social media, I’m still marveling at the fact that I have connected with people – friends – that I haven’t seen or talked with in 30 years or more.
Art Pantoja, the guy that lived down the block and was my best walk-to-school and play-after-school buddy ever. We started kindergarten together. His father rode a bicycle all around the neighborhood. And he waved to everybody, bouncing up and down on the seat and smiling ear to ear. And we all waved back.
Greg Williams, who was my friend from first grade and all through high school. He went on to play football for UCLA and after that became an actor and voice over specialist and an online network newscaster.
Steve Haufler, who I swam/competed with and against my entire adolescent life — age group, high school and college — and who is now an acknowledged competitive swim guru and owner of his own highly successful swim school.
I’ve heard from former students, former associates and former college buddies…and I find it amazing that we’re all OK. We’re all OK. Wow. We turned out OK. There certainly was some doubt — at least where I was concerned.
I’ve always viewed my life as a series of islands — islands where I had a particular range of experiences with a particular group of friends and mentors and then…moved out to sea in search of the next “port.” And now there are bridges…bridges that connect each of those islands of experience to the other. And I get to go back. Whenever I want. As much as I want. And I get to remember…with the help of a cherished friend that was on that island with me.
OK. Ramble over. I’m going back to work…and watching the blessed rain.