- Older Son Jeb and his wife Sarah the Fantastic New Mother
made me a grandfather again a couple of months ago.
-
- Franny Owl Brody, who's way too young to be embarrassed
by all the attention she's getting just for being herself, is my fourth
grandchild. The other three - Isabel, Anna, and Sky Rewick - were born
in London, England, to Oldest Daughter Jen and Mad Scotsman Husband Glenn.
-
- I haven't gotten to see Isabel, Anna, and Sky very much
because of the logistics involved in such long trips, but that's going
to change. Oldest Daughter and her family have moved to Northern California,
making visits just a mite more affordable and convenient now.
-
- Franny Owl, meanwhile, was born and is being raised in
my old stomping ground, L.A.
-
- Now most people might consider that good news. "Oh,
wow, Larry B," Brannigan the Contractor said when I told him about
Franny's birth, "you get to go see her plus your old friends plus
hang in all the great places you left behind when you came to Paradise."
-
- I understand Brannigan's point, and probably would say
the same thing to him if our positions were reversed. But the truth is
that at the time the thought of going to L.A. filled me with dread.
-
- On the one hand, it was the scene of my greatest personal
successes.
-
- On the other, it also was the scene of my biggest personal
failures.
-
- Two bad marriages. Two alienated children who - unlike
Jeb and Jen - haven't spoken to me in almost 10 years.
-
- For me, the Lala Land of Los Angeles is nothing more
than a reminder of promises broken.
-
- Promises I made to people who loved me and also to myself.
-
- Promises I was too young and/or ignorant and/or selfish
and/or foolish to be able to keep.
-
- Since I left L.A. six and a half years ago, it's existed
as a dark, troubled sea on my mental map of the world. A sea covered by
the old cartographer's phrase, "Here There Be Dragons."
-
- The closest I've come to going back to L.A. since Gwen
the Beautiful and I settled on The Mountain was when Gwen's mother died
and we went to her memorial service in Riverside, California, 60 miles
from the epicenter of the ground I was convinced was waiting to stomp me.
-
- When you get down to it, living in fear of the past really
is living in fear of yourself. Of who you were. Of what you did. Of attitudes
and deeds that are over. Gone. Nothing but ghosts. And living on a haunted
mountain has taught me that ghosts can't hurt you. They don't even want
to hurt you. Any pain you get from them is pain you've caused yourself.
-
- So I had to face the past.
-
- And see the future - my beautiful new granddaughter.
-
- Blow off my self-indulgent self-torment and be free.
-
- Carpe diem. I made myself seize the moment, and Gwen
and I flew to L.A.
-
- Drove the freeways we once drove everyday.
-
- Ate in the neighborhoods where we once ate everyday.
-
- Felt the pulse of the city. Its arrogant indolence. Its
laid-back ambition. Its anything for a price combination of sexuality and
commerce.
-
- "Psst wanna make a deal? Sell your soul for 15
minutes of fame? For the chance to walk behind Lindsay Lohan while the
paparazzi click her way?"
-
- And - wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles! - the pressure
I thought I'd find wasn't there.
-
- The pain I'd tried to hide from didn't hurt.
-
- The demons I'd braced myself for never showed.
-
- L.A. was just another city. Sprawling. Crowded. Obsessed.
-
- And something else:
-
- "I love you," Los Angeles said to me as I drove
from the airport to my son's house. "Do you love me?"
-
- I looked around.
-
- Sighed.
-
- Waited to see what I felt.
-
- "Yes," I said. "I love you."
-
- And then came another surprise. "I forgive you,"
said the city. "Do you forgive me?"
-
- This time I didn't need to wait. I knew the answer. "I
forgive you," I said.
-
- Our week with Franny Owl and family was wonderful. Her
mother welcomed Gwen and me to their world. Her father treated us lovingly.
I followed him everywhere, as once he'd followed me.
-
- The biggest moment was the first time I held the baby.
"How does it feel?" my son said.
-
- "It feels wonderful," I said. And I thought,
at last without regret:
-
- "It makes me wish I still could hold you."
-
- Copyright C 2008 by Larry Brody. All rights reserved.
-
- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE! FROM PARADISE!
appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written thousands of
hours of network television, and is the author of "Television Writing
from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at <mailto:LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org>LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org.
Brody, his wife and their dogs, cats, horses and chickens live in Marion
County, Arkansas. The other residents of the mythical town of Paradise
reside in his imagination.
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