Days of Note

When you think over your life, you can remember days of note; special days both happy and sad, joyful and angry, important and insignificant. And rarely do you realize on each of those days just what you will recall from it, what it will come to mean in the overall fabric of your life. The older you get, the more perspective you achieve, the more understanding you compile and, like anything fine in life, these days of note ripen and your appreciation of them increases. I've had two of those days in the last week, one very happy and one very sad, and both of them milestones in their own ways.

The most recent is the passing of my Aunt Kit. She had been ill for quite some time and knew her disease was terminal, but she kept going until the very end, no matter how weak or tired she was. She will be missed by more people than she probably realized. And while I am glad that she is through her suffering, I am angry at the sickness that took her from me and I reach back in my mind to try to find another day of note; that perfect time when I enjoyed and appreciated her most.

As a kid, I knew her only by reference. She and my mother had been close as kids. When they grew up and each married, they went their separate ways. My father had no qualms about expressing his dislike of Kit and her "irresponsible" ways, dragging her kids around the country from one regional theater to another, never settling down. To me, though, she sounded like an adventurer, my very own Auntie Mame.

I finally met her in my early 20s. She and her husband David were living in Brewerton, outside Syracuse, N.Y., and I had found my way to Ithaca, about 60 miles south. I was quite literally out in the cold, since I was rooming in a Cornell fraternity which was shutting down for the Christmas break and there was snow everywhere.

When I called Kit, I was immediately invited for the holiday festivities. She took me in and gave me more booze than I have ever consumed before or since. She cooked a lovely goose for Christmas dinner, amazed at the amount of fat she was syphoning off the thing. She took me to a Boxing Day party where I hooked up with some shady theater folk. When I ended up stranded after spending the night in a bizarre Victorian house (another story altogether), she drove into town to retrieve me. She took me to the world premiere production of William Gibson's "The Butterfingers Angel..." at Syracuse Stage, and I wrote "Another Little Christmas Story" for her, which I have inflicted upon the entire family each Christmas since. This photo of Kit, me, my mom Paula, and their stepmother Lilian is from around that time. Although very human, Aunt Kit was magical in my eyes.

When she retired and moved out to California, I shared an apartment with her for a short time after I broke up with Dave Mann (also another story altogether). We lived on Hyperion Avenue in the Silver Lake District of Los Angeles. While she tried breaking into commercial acting, she tended bar at the neighborhood gay bar, the Toy Tiger: I was an instant celebrity there simply by being Kit's nephew.

When my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she moved up to the Central Coast and became his caretaker. It was really touching to see these two develop such a tender bond after all the long-distance animosity between them. Once my father passed away, the household was referred to as "the moms'," and together they dubbed their home "Hag Harbor." The two sisters lived together for twenty years, until today. I can't think of anything beyond, and I appreciate all the rich years that she spent with all of us on the Central Coast.

I got to direct her in "Steel Magnolias," (although I didn't give her the part she wanted) and it was a delight. She got to direct me in "The Fantasticks," (although I took the part because it was abandoned two weeks before opening night, not because I was cast). Just this May we had a reading of "Arsenic and Old Lace" with the moms playing the roles of the sisters. Most of us involved agree it was awful, but we all loved doing it and had a great time: It was one last connection before Kit left us, and I'm so glad we took the time.

I drove up to visit just two weeks ago, so I don't feel so bad about being absent now. While I was there, she would constantly forget her walker when she went from the living room to her bedroom or vice versa. Was it on purpose? You never knew with Kit. All her life, she kept everyone guessing. She was a bold spirit who carved out an amazing life. She had her share of days of note, as well. I'm glad I got to share some of them with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

And after that recollection, the second day of note seems almost trivial, but for me it was a very important one: On Saturday, August 8, Steve and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. Not only did we make it through the wedding last year, but the California Supreme Court was nice enough to validate our marriage while upholding Proposition 8 and keeping all other gay folks from having one, as well. (You can check out the wedding pictures here in the blog archives or go to Facebook and check them out there.)

We went down to Long Beach for dinner at Parker's Lighthouse, the place where we had our second date (which was the first romantic one). The Long Beach Jazz Festival was happening the same weekend, so parking was absolutely insane. The weather was lovely and, after some confusion, we got our patio table overlooking the inlet and the Queen Mary, ordering our food just as the sun was setting. We had our traditional appetizer (lobster taquitos). It was quite a special evening.

Being married to the person you really love (being able to be married to the person you really love) is such an incredibly important and special thing. I don't think most people understand that; they take it for granted, like it's just part of life.

Fritz Perls, father of gestalt therapy, once described most marriages as relationships of "intimate hostility"; hates and resentments built up over time and intensely shared between only two people. I think that happens because people take marriage for granted and one another, as well.

We are all of us precious, and our loves and marriages even more so. When we lose track of that, we lose track of why we value life so dearly. When status and position and possessions eclipse being alive and loving, things fall apart and life gets cheap and loses meaning.

Here in a time of shitty news and things falling apart, it's easy to despair. But no matter how bad things are (like being unemployed or scraping through the months financially), compared to all the humans on the planet, our lives are truly blessed. If you've lost your perspective of that, it's time to make a fresh assessment and see your life for what it is and focus once again on what you'd truly like it to be. Because, most likely, you're doing a fabulous job.

Time Off in Purgatory

That's what you get for jury duty. I'm sitting in the jury assembly room on the 11th floor of the criminal courts building at Temple and Broadway in downtown L.A.

The room has some of the same aesthetics of an airport waiting room, and you have to go through the same security procedures (except at court they don't make you take off your shoes) and the environment is just as stultifyingly boring.

I took the online orientation program last week, so I was able to arrive around 9:30 instead of 8 o'clock; that was nice. But if you've already seen the boring how-to videos about justice online, you show up, they log you in and then you sit. And wait. And wait.

Around 10:30 they called one jury panel and sent them up to department 117. Then nothing until just before noon, when we were released for lunch. I went directly down to the cafeteria, since I don't feel like going down to the L.A. center across from the federal courts building and fighting the hords at the various fast-food places there. And, too, it's amazing that a cafeteria can cook turkey and make it come out looking like pulled pork and tasting like nothing much other than edible. The corn was even less tasty ... or more tasteless, I'm not sure which.

So I'm secretly hoping that I'll just spend the rest of the afternoon here, not get called out, and have my jury duty done with. Part of me would like to be empaneled and sit on a jury, now that I have the time to, but I also feel like I should get back to my studies and job search.

Speaking of studies, Steve and I went down to Vroman's Books (our local nonfranchise book store) and I picked up a book on ActionScript 3.0, since I wasn't having too much success with the online tutorials alone. It is obviously one of those subjects that has an "aha" factor to it: You kind of go along, not really understanding the meat of the subject, and then -- AHA -- things gel and you understand what's going on.

That's about it. Lunch break is almost over and they might be asking me to go do something semiproductive, so I should sign off. I think I have just enough time to upload the picture I took this morning with my iPhone, showing the enthusiastic citizen-jurors waiting for their chance to take a role in this system we call judicial.

No Clever Title

Nope. No clever title: Just not up to it this week. No pictures, either. I went up to visit for a couple of days in Arroyo Grande and took absolutely no pictures. Nada. Spent my time with the moms, mostly, but did get a chance to hit the Sycamore Springs hot tubs.

Paula (my mom) seems to be doing okay for being eighty-whatever. She putters around the house and has organized her environment to take care of the daily things (like having a very reasonable shopping service, a daily dogwalker and a catalog of eateries from which you can order meals.

Kit (my aunt) is getting along, but it's obvious she's weak. She can make it from the living room to her room or the bathroom well enough that she forgets her walker which everyone reminds her to use.

I originally went up to visit the moms because they must be so lonely, but the few days I was there, folks were coming and going all day and into the evening. It made me feel a lot better that there were so many caretakers checking in on them. And, of course, my sister Kittie and her husband David were by whenever feasible.

Another unique aspect to this trip up the coast was that I drove my car. Normally I take the train up and commandeer one of the moms' cars. I drove during the day, so things weren't too bad, although you can't drive very far in California anymore that you don't run into a traffic jam on some freeway.

I got back to Pasadena on Friday afternoon and have been spending the weekend with Steve since then. He's presently attending a homeowners association meeting, since he's one of the officers this year, I think. He took a clipboard with him, so I think he's some kind of official.

It's nice here in the 21st century, though: I was away for three days and kept up on my job search on my iPhone. If I had thought of it, I would have downloaded my resume files to mom's computer, then I could have applied from there.

But I wasn't up there for that, and I would rather spend the time with the moms. And Aunt Kit doesn't speak computer, so it might have been considered downright rude.

And apologies to those of you who missed my presence. I promise to connect up on the next ride up.

Eggs on the Sidewalk

Damn, it's hot! Damn-damn. Damn hot.

It's 104 on the patio. I held off until 1 o'clock before starting up the air conditioning. I can just hear the money slipping away into the pockets of the Pasadena Department of Water and Power, but I'm feeling comfortable again.

But I shall be escaping this heat for the cooler climes of Arroyo Grande. Yes, I shall be going up to visit the moms and lul sis Kittie and her other half David. (I'd say better half, but when you do that you tend to piss off somebody or start a "no, you're the better half" cutesie argument that can become absolutely revolting in short order.

Steve's doing fine. I know he'll miss me when I'm gone, and I'll miss him, too, but I just have to get out of the house and do something different. The forecasts of mid-70s highs on the Central Coast were really the determining factor. And it's been a while since I was up visiting.

So if you don't hear anything on this page for a while, you know why. I'll try to remember and take lots of pictures so I can provide an in-depth and interesting entry when I return.

For the record, I'll be getting up to Arroyo Grande around 3 p.m. on Tuesday and returning here to Pasadena about the same time on Friday.

Until then, stay cool!

What Would Freud Do?

An Oscar Meyer Wienermobile crashed into the home and outdoor deck of Nick Krupp in Racine, Wis. on Friday morning, July 17, 2009. According to a witness, the vehicle was parked in the driveway. The driver lurched the vehicle forward instead of backing out of the driveway, hitting Krupp's deck and cracking the foundation of his house. (Tom McCauley / AP)

Summer Doldrums

Yes, doldrums. More in the maritime definition than an emotional state. Just nothing happening. What a great time to write a blog entry.

It's been hot. Not hot-hot (that will come this weekend) but hot. There are only a few hours out of the day when you just don't want to move or go outside, and by five o'clock in the afternoon things are getting comfortable again. Still, no air moving, the sun beating down, the roads and sidewalks baking, everyone looking for shade; after all, it is summer.

The Emmy nominations came out this week. It was a mixed feeling for me: one the one hand, I was so grateful for not having to go into work early and hassle all day with the extra pages this generates, but I was also feeling left out in a way; this is no longer something that concerns me beyond general interest, and I don't have much interest in the awards as a fan. I was more interested in the effect they have on the industry, the political positioning, when I was part of covering that show biz. Now I'm just kind of adrift, not knowing what my specialty is any longer. And so, the doldrums once again.

Nothing happening on the job front. Day by day I'm going through my tutorials online. Finished the introductory course on Flash, now I'm taking introduction to writing ActionScript 3.0. After this comes intermediate Flash and then intermediate ActionScript. By the time I get through those titles, I should have a fairly good handle on the interactivity of Web sites. Then I just have to marry that knowledge with the Dreamweaver tutorials and, voila, a Web site should be in the making. I'm not sure Cousin Rick's server will be able to handle the bandwidth, though, so I'll probably need to move it to another server and get my own URL once I mount the site.

Part of me wants to rush through all this, and part of me knows that, at my age, all the information will go in one ear and out the other unless I spend my time on this stuff, take notes and play around with the programs as I go. I have to keep reminding myself that I have never taken a formal class in any of the programs I work with now; they just appeared on my computer at work one day and I was told to learn them. In the early days, I'd just take the user's manual home and read through it. Now there are no user manuals (except help sites online), so the tutorials are the only way to go.

Todd Perkins, the guy doing the one's I'm taking now, doesn't do enough of explaining the syntax of the programming language, so you have to kind of guess at it as you go along. At some point it will become obvious, I'm sure. There is a point in learning every new program where you have a digital epiphany and you understand the organization of the program and how to get things done.

On Sunday, Steve and I went over to Robin and Evan's in the Hollywood Hills to visit with Aunt Kit, who was down for a visit. She looked as well as could be expected, but she's definitely slowing down and takes a while to get anything accomplished. Robin is so loving and attentive without being overbearing. It's really sweet to see. I keep meaning to go up to Arroyo Grande for a visit, but there doesn't seem to be a week yet that I can completely free things up. And until I hear from the Employment Development Department about my unemployment, I kind of have to stay close to home for the initial interview. And in August comes the jury duty.

One bright spot this week was a call from Gerry Hiken, my friend up in Palo Alto. Last week, in a fit of social regression, I sat down and actually wrote him a letter using a pen and a piece of paper (remember that?). Well, he got the letter and called me to say congratulations (on our wedding last August). When I got the call I was trolling the employment sites on the Web, and all I could think about was he's congratulating me for being unemployed. He might just do that, as we are both old hippies. Back in the '60s and '70s, breaking away from the establishment was a thing which was encouraged and congratulated, not dreaded and avoided.

He's doing fine except for some problems with his eyes, which are slowly improving. He's going to be working on an old Cole Porter musical which he describes as being well ahead of its time. It closed in Philadelphia back in the 1930s, never making it to Broadway. But he says the score and libretto are excellent (it's an antiwar theme), and he thinks its time is now.

Finally, today, one unnerving development: the direct deposit of my severance pay did not show up in my bank account this morning. I left a message for Sara Rogers, Nielsen's HR person at the Reporter, and hopefully we'll have this cleared up by the end of the day. Hopefully. I'm not panicking about it ... just yet.

An awful long entry for a week where nothing happened. But then, things did happen; just not very interesting things.

In-Depends-dence Day

Another late night trying to get tired. Steve and I are going over to Robin and Evan's tomorrow -- I mean today -- in the early afternoon. Aunt Kit is down visiting and it sounded like a good idea to drop over for a visit, even though I'm planning on going up to Arroyo Grande for a visit in the next week or two.

The July 4th weekend was pretty much like it has been for the last few years. We go over to John's place in South Pasadena for a small get-together of friends and one of his delicious strawberry cakes (which you see glowing intensely on the table below John) and hot dogs and salads, of course. Then we head out to the street to watch the upper parts of the South Pasadena fireworks. It's all very festive and over by 10 o'clock, which is just right for the evening.

Yes, there's a huge fireworks spectacle at the Rose Bowl each year, I know, but neither Steve nor I really enjoy the huge crowds, and we don't know anyone who lives close enough to view them from their home, so South Pasadena will have to do.

Let's see: In the last week I've applied for unemployment, even though I'm still receiving my severance package (you can do that in California; I'm hoping to get a small cash buffer going with a few weeks overlapped so that we can handle anything untoward that occurs in the coming months). Also, I completed the introductory course in Flash CS3 and am now moving on to the introductory course on Actionscript, which is the language that makes Flash go interactive (meaning you, the visitor to a site, can click on things to make stuff happen and put information into little boxes and process information).

At times it all seems very surreal, but no more difficult than learning BASIC or COBOL back in college. Then we had to put our entire program on a stack of punch cards and put them in a bin with a rubber band around them; then we'd some back in two days or so and see if the program had run correctly. If it hadn't, you'd have to check the readout, find the problem and the corresponding punch card, revise the card, put it back in the correct place in the stack, put a rubber band around it and put it in a bin...you get the picture.

So I've got to get my butt to bed now. I don't want to be a bleary-eyed for my visit to the Hollywood Hills tomorrow. Hopefully, writing this will calm my nerves and relax my mind.