Doug & Bodhi

Los Angeles, California

I've always envied people who have lifetime friends. Not that I don't have a couple, and more who have gone through most of my adult life with me. My closest friends have known me since the early '80s. That's a good run. And there is Debbie Davis, who was my buddy at girl scout camp, and my partner in crime in our troop meetings. I mastered the quietly shot comment; she the massive fit-of-giggles response. We were often asked to step outside (our meetings were at a park, so that punishment meant playing on the swings, which, as you can imagine, was impactful). I have a lot of friends, and a good circle of fristers (don't know what a frister is? Search for it above...).

Billy's closest friend is Keith. They grew up on the same street from the time they were both babies, and the story is that once they could crawl up/down the street they became friends. They still are. But there was a period of time when my husband's best friend was Doug.

We met Doug and Holly through another couple, and the four of them were tight friends. But the other couple had recently had a child, and was distracted by all that goes along with that. We got to know Doug and Holly better on a trip to Catalina, and they reached out to us as friends. Soon we were doing everything with them. They were great fun, and more. They were our social style gurus. We learned a lot from them. At the time we were entertaining friends a lot -- wine & beer & pans of paella or pots of cioppino, or eggplant parmigiana. We were exploring Greek cuisine, and cooking a lot of Mexican food, and a little bit of Chinese. We fed our guests at our industrial spool table, or at our blue picnic table on our backyard patio. It was all casual college and not at all chic.

Doug and Holly entertained on a totally different plane altogether. They were cooking out of Wolfgang Puck and the cooking bible of the day, The Silver Palate. For fancy dinners, Holly set a table with her china, crystal, and silver. They stocked their house with the beer & spirits that were their guests' favorites. And Doug tended bar and served cocktails.

Doug and Holly were traveling like adults, too. They dropped by to visit us after a weekend spent at San Ysidro Ranch. They traveled to New York to see theater and eat at Lutece. They were living the good life, and that looked pretty good to us. We started attending the Santa Barbara Vintners' Festival together each April, and meeting often for dinner and overnights at their home.

When Billy's dad died at 66, after a long decline, Doug sent Billy a letter that began with: This is the first time I have tried to send a hug through the mail. And Holly called to offer something that I have remembered and utilized ever since. She said that they were making the chicken salad from the Silver Palate and that they could drop it off for us, bring it and stay with us, or they could stay home and would see us at the funeral a few days later. Billy wanted them with us, and I was glad. At that point in time Billy and Doug were like brothers, or better, frothers.

But our friendship didn't stay close. There were changes on both sides, some conflict between Holly and me which I foolishly exacerbated. They started a family and rebonded with the couple who also had children, so we went our own ways. But we stayed in touch, and saw them occasionally. And Billy and I lamented that they were no longer the force and friends in our lives that we had so enjoyed. 

The last time we saw them was at the start of the recession and we were all heartily panicked. We met at Father's Office in Culver City. After that, Holly and I kept the connection with birthday and holiday cards and the occasional email, and Billy received the newsletter from Doug's business. It was through that newsletter that we learned that Doug was ill. Evidently he had suffered a fall, contracted a virus during an outpatient pain-relief procedure, and that necessitated a months-long hospital stay during which he had several surgeries. He came out of the hospital with compromised mobility, and subsequently developed more infections, and an immune disorder. Somewhere along the line he was diagnosed with diabetes.

Doug passed away on May 6th. Yesterday, the 4th of July, he would have been 59. Doug told us that when he was a child, and he was an only child, he always thought the celebrations and fireworks of the holiday were because it was his birthday. I am sure that everyone who knew Doug will remember him on that day. I am very good with dates. About half of the days of the year have some meaning or memory for me. Many of them are birthdays of friends or relatives long gone. And, when I woke yesterday, I woke with the memory of Doug, and I thought about him all day.

And then, today... My dear frister, Diana, emailed to let me know that her daughter, Jenny, had delivered a son, Brendan and Diana's first grandchild. He is Bodhi Samuel. And he was born on the 4th of July.

Billy and I will continue to mourn Doug. He was in so many ways larger than life. An intelligent, funny, wonderful man with a voice that I can still hear. But I think Doug would appreciate this new life sharing his birthday. And for me, it eased the pain of Doug's loss by a small amount. I feel joy for this new family. And I feel the universe is somehow balanced by the loss and gain on the holiday that we, in this country, all celebrate. Welcome to the world, Bodhi. We will miss you forever, Doug. Thank you for reading my blog.

Flag Day

Healdsburg, California

The concept of two people in love who choose not to marry is probably fine and dandy for most people. I'm totally ok with it. What has not been fine nor dandy is the concept of two people in love who, by law, were prohibited from marrying. So I am exceedingly glad and grateful that last year California joined with the states that have made same-gender marriages lawful. Hooray!

And so, Todd & Christopher married. They picked a fabulous venue; invited interesting and fun friends; planned enjoyable activities. In addition, the weather was perfect. But, for me, the centerpiece was to witness this marriage of two people who mean so much to me. They are family.

It's been ages since I have attended the wedding of friends. Everyone's kids seem to be getting married now. Or, worse, they're already married and making my friends into grandparents. My frister, Diana, is about to take up that mantle, and she was at Woodstock, for heaven's sake. It's come to that. But I digress.

We spent the weekend at the Hotel Healdsburg and walked around town each morning. We ran into other wedding guests in the lobby or elevator or out on the sidewalk in town. It was good to see Christopher's parents, Jerry and Marge, who we had spent a Christmas with us all in Carmel in 2012. And I loved spending time with the girls: Todd's sister, Carole; Lauren, who was with Christopher at Colgate University, and Sarah who attended University of Michigan where she and Christopher were in a graduate program. The girls.

The day before the wedding, we had lunch at Oakville Grocery, then drove to a winery for a reserved wine tasting. It was a lovely vineyard spot, and we got to know some of the other guests while we were there, including another Todd (he called himself Todd One after I called him Todd Two), who I later discovered is quite the dancer! Then Todd, Christopher, Carole, Cheryll, Finn & Dash (C & T's godsons and ringbearers), and I went to the wedding site for a run through. This was where I met Brian, who was doing the other reading. When I did my practice reading, Katie, the very lovely wedding coordinator exclaimed, Oh dear. You are going to have to do it louder than that. Ok, I responded, but did you have to preface that tip with 'oh dear'? Then she told Brian the same thing (without the oh dear), so he did it a second time. That sounded exactly the same as the first time! I chided. He made a face at me. She's right, Katie said. Another face. I like him.

That night, I went by Carole's room to pick her up for the 'rehearsal' dinner, and I got to hang out in her room and chat while she finished getting ready. It felt good to be there, and to spend time with her. We were both part of the wedding. Carole, who had gotten her license on line, would officiate the ceremony, and I with my reading, which was a poem by Pablo Neruda.

The ceremony was perfect in every way. Well, almost... My nervousness about the reading was just slightly edged off by the Aperol spritzes they were serving. I partook just one, just before. We were gathered in the ruins of an old winery, on a beautiful property somewhere in Santa Rosa. I had worried that my voice would quaver, but when I got up to read, the spritz had evidently sent the quavering down to my knees, and my legs shook perceptably during my brief time in the spotlight. Note to self: next time have two spritzes, as that should take it all the way down and out of my body through my feet! Oh well. Brian, the other reader, did excellently and we high-fived and hugged when it was over. I love this stuff..!

After the ceremony we walked up the hill past vineyards to a large, long table set on a plateau (so Todd). We had dinner there watching the sun dip, with the glow of early evening fading to night. After an amazing dinner (so Christopher), we hied ourselves back to the ruins for some dancing, then finally back to our respective hotels. We managed to close the bar at Hotel Healdsburg, where I spent the time talking to Curt, our long-past employee who was at Pepperdine University with Todd. That was the connection, back some twenty-five years or so. Twenty years ago, to the weekend, we had been at Curt's wedding in Orlando, Florida with Todd. Lots of changes in those twenty years. Christopher had yet to come into Todd's, and, subsequently, our lives. And we were just friends then. Now we are family.

There was brunch the next morning at The Shed in Healdsburg which was a very cool spot. Christopher had told me that The Shed was very Bronte Healy. I replied: Do you mean that it is forgetful and disorganized? That's not good in a restaurant. But, he had meant it in some way as a compliment. Once we arrived there I decided that he thinks I am airy and white. More like an airhead, I'm afraid...

Later that day, Carole rode with us to Oakland Airport, and we flew home that day. Back to life as we know it in Los Angeles. Back to care of my mom. Back to the crises, problems, and complications that, I suppose, we all have in our lives in varying degrees. We boarded late and didn't sit together, but I managed to cadge a window seat. I looked out the window of the plane for most of the flight. I wanted to just keep flying. Just stay up there. Just go. Thelma and Louise. Funny how you can get those dark thoughts, even at a time when you have spent such a stellar weekend, and been fortunate enough to be part of such a very memorable event. But that's life. Sometimes in the middle of all of the sh*t, there really is a pony. And despite everything else, and everything that was awaiting me back in my real life, I felt heartily thankful to have been part of the ponyride. It was the best. Thank you for reading my blog. Aperol Spritzes raised: Here's to TB & CK! I LOVE YOU BOTH.