I keep having dreams about car accidents.
I've always had dreams about them, actually, but now that I drive daily and have my own car, they've become more frequent.
I've always suspected I'll die in a car.
I might drive off a cliff. I might crash through the railing of a freeway overpass. I might rumble through a highway divider. I might careen sidelong into oncoming traffic.
Luckily, I've been in very few traffic accidents in my life - most of which were in college, either because Maria and I were rearended in the rain, or I hit a deer on the dark, winding rural roads of Hamilton, NY. But recently, less than a month after leasing my brand new car, I swerved off the side of the road, over the shoulder, straight into a street sign, which clipped my passenger side rear view mirror hard enough to send a cascade of broken mirror glass into the car through the window, glittering my dashboard, seats and carpeting.
I've been a little traumatized ever since.
Whenever I drive in LA now, particularly during my daily commute, I'm constantly looking in the rear view mirrors. I'm terrified of getting rear-ended again, and constantly try to plan my escape if I see the car behind me approaching too quickly, or not paying attention, or losing traction in the winter rain that has put a bit of a damper on the idyllic California weather I was so excited to experience.
Ironically, I think I actually caused such an accident last week, when I stopped short to nab a street parking space on Sunset Boulevard instead of paying $10 for valet. A taxi likewise stopped short behind me and the car behind him crashed into him.
Oops.
But the longer I drive, the more I realize: I can't spend all my time watching what's going on behind me. I have to look forward. And I can't worry about who or what is going to hit me, from the front or the side or behind. At some point, I have to leave what's behind me...behind.
I have to drive like I've never been hit before.
I have to love like I've never been hurt before.
Otherwise I'm going nowhere.
To become a fan on Facebook, click here.
Making up for lost time and missed opportunities, one adventure at a time.
March 14, 2011
March 13, 2011
Photo Essay: Franklin Canyon Ranch & Lake (Updated for 2018)
[Last updated: 4/18/18 9:03 PM PT]
The Hastain Trail in Franklin Canyon was one of LA's most popular hikes for years. And when I first climbed it, it was being bulldozed.
Protestors were understandably in an uproar over a developer's plans to level the peak. Hikers coming down the hill while I was climbing it were shaking their heads, telling me that the trail was fenced off before they could get all the way.
"Should I still go up?" I asked.
"Yeah, just to see it..." one told me. But none of them seemed to know exactly what was going on.
When I got to the fence, a trailrunner was headed toward me from the other side of the fence.
"How'd you get up there?" I asked.
"I just walked around," he said, and then swung back around the side of the fence to head on down.
And that's when it occurred to me that there are three types of people in life: those that see a fence and turn around, those that wonder how to get over, under, or through it, and those that are already on the other side.
I usually see myself as the second type, though I aspire to be the third type. So, though the chainlink stabbed my leg in the process (thank God for my tetanus shot), I managed to hoist myself on to the other side and see the bulldozer myself.
And then, there was nothing I could do but turn around, go back down, and look for something else to look at.
Fortunately, there are plenty of other sights in Franklin Canyon that aren't currently fenced off.
The park has served as a shooting location for numerous film and TV productions (are we sensing a trend here?)...
...including perhaps most famously the fishin' hole in The Andy Griffith Show...
...and the lagoon in Creature from the Black Lagoon.
The park features chaparral, grassland, and oak woodland habitats, tucked away in the hills above Beverly Hills...
...but it's not all entirely natural, per se.
William Mulholland led the charge to create an earthen dam that would capture water supply to be used by the Dohenys, who were living just down the hill at the mansion now known as Greystone.
In 1940, when the country was still recovering from the economic downturn of the 1930s, the government put people to work with various infrastructural and beautification projects as part of the WPA (contrary to the plaque, more commonly known as the Works Progress Administration).
Hence a lot of the walkways and even some of the plantings around the 300-acre lake.
There are also abandoned ranch houses that date back to the days of the Dohenys, back in 1935...
...including one with a Spanish tile roof...
...a swingset in the back...
...and an open garage door.
In the 1970s, the canyon was threatened with development as residential communities were growing on both sides of the hill (and Franklin Canyon smack dab in the middle).
In 1981, the National Parks Service purchased the land (then known as "Franklin Canyon Ranch," or the "Doheny Ranch") to include it as part of the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area.
The MRCA still manages the site today—though, unfortunately, no agency was able to save the entirety of the Hastain Trail. Since some of it did cut through private property, a judge ruled in 2016 that the property owner was well within his rights to develop the land, despite its popularity with hikers who'd gotten used to cutting through.
But, as I said, there are other places to walk and hike in Franklin Canyon. And even if it's not quite wildflower season yet, there are usually a few outcroppings here and there...
...and some very green grass among the ruins, especially in the spring.
The Hastain Trail in Franklin Canyon was one of LA's most popular hikes for years. And when I first climbed it, it was being bulldozed.
Protestors were understandably in an uproar over a developer's plans to level the peak. Hikers coming down the hill while I was climbing it were shaking their heads, telling me that the trail was fenced off before they could get all the way.
"Should I still go up?" I asked.
"Yeah, just to see it..." one told me. But none of them seemed to know exactly what was going on.
When I got to the fence, a trailrunner was headed toward me from the other side of the fence.
"How'd you get up there?" I asked.
"I just walked around," he said, and then swung back around the side of the fence to head on down.
And that's when it occurred to me that there are three types of people in life: those that see a fence and turn around, those that wonder how to get over, under, or through it, and those that are already on the other side.
I usually see myself as the second type, though I aspire to be the third type. So, though the chainlink stabbed my leg in the process (thank God for my tetanus shot), I managed to hoist myself on to the other side and see the bulldozer myself.
circa 2018
And then, there was nothing I could do but turn around, go back down, and look for something else to look at.
Fortunately, there are plenty of other sights in Franklin Canyon that aren't currently fenced off.
circa 2018
circa 2018
circa 2018
circa 2018
circa 2018
circa 2018
circa 2018
circa 2018
There are also abandoned ranch houses that date back to the days of the Dohenys, back in 1935...
...including one with a Spanish tile roof...
...a swingset in the back...
...and an open garage door.
In the 1970s, the canyon was threatened with development as residential communities were growing on both sides of the hill (and Franklin Canyon smack dab in the middle).
In 1981, the National Parks Service purchased the land (then known as "Franklin Canyon Ranch," or the "Doheny Ranch") to include it as part of the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area.
The MRCA still manages the site today—though, unfortunately, no agency was able to save the entirety of the Hastain Trail. Since some of it did cut through private property, a judge ruled in 2016 that the property owner was well within his rights to develop the land, despite its popularity with hikers who'd gotten used to cutting through.
But, as I said, there are other places to walk and hike in Franklin Canyon. And even if it's not quite wildflower season yet, there are usually a few outcroppings here and there...
...and some very green grass among the ruins, especially in the spring.
March 12, 2011
Photo Essay: Inside Greystone Mansion (Updated for 2017)
[Ed: Updated with new photos 10/24/17 5:09 PM PT]
I love my hometown.
Yes, sure, I've already established that I love LA. But I don't actually live in LA.
No, my hometown is Beverly Hills. And it has a lot more to offer than Rodeo Drive.
I had the rare opportunity to tour not only the interior of Greystone Mansion (whose exterior gardens I'd already visited once), but also the recreation wing and other super-secret nooks and crannies not usually visited by civilians.
I love my hometown.
Yes, sure, I've already established that I love LA. But I don't actually live in LA.
No, my hometown is Beverly Hills. And it has a lot more to offer than Rodeo Drive.
I had the rare opportunity to tour not only the interior of Greystone Mansion (whose exterior gardens I'd already visited once), but also the recreation wing and other super-secret nooks and crannies not usually visited by civilians.
Desert Revelations
Today, while hiking solo along the Borrego Palm Canyon trail in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, I realized:
I don't so desperately need to be alone anymore.
And,
what's more,
I don't so desperately need to be with someone either.
I'm kind of OK either way.
Related Reading:
Since I've Been Gone
To become a fan on Facebook, click here.
I don't so desperately need to be alone anymore.
And,
what's more,
I don't so desperately need to be with someone either.
I'm kind of OK either way.
Related Reading:
Since I've Been Gone
To become a fan on Facebook, click here.
March 11, 2011
Photo Essay: Taking Flight
I knew I wanted to visit Anza-Borrego Desert State Park sometime this spring so I could catch the wildflowers, since my last visit was at the tail end of summer, the brown, dusty low season that makes the park feel dead and barren (though no less magical). I took the opportunity to capitalize on my approach from the north (LA) instead of the south (San Diego) and decided to use Warner Springs, CA as my basecamp.
I'd first read about Warner Springs as an up-and-coming wine country, to give nearby Temecula and Julian a run for their money. But then I discovered there's a lot more to do here, including flying planes.
When I arrived at Sky Sailing today, I had no intention on actually flying a plane myself. I wanted someone to fly me, and I would go along for the ride. But when they offered- and kept offering - I couldn't turn the opportunity down.
I asked for the most basic plane, with the most basic package, at the shortest time frame available. No acrobatics. Just for beginners, the gentlest experience possible.
The cockpit was a two-seater, with me in front, gauges and controls on my dashboard and between my legs.
"I don't think I want to fly," I said. It wasn't that I didn't want to get in the plane. It's just that I didn't want to have any responsibility.
"OK well we'll see when we get up there," Keith, my pilot and soon-to-be flight instructor, said.
At first, we were being towed by another plane, the tow line tight between us.
But soon, the tow plane was ready to release us.
And then we were on our own.
And soon I was on my own, my pilot urging me again, "You sure you don't want to fly?" at which point I responded, "OK, yeah, sure."
I couldn't turn it down.
Flying a sailplane like this one (also known as a glider), you have a kind of joystick between your legs, and a pedal beneath each foot. Adjust the joystick to the right, step down on the right pedal, and the plane turns right. But the incredible part is that it actually takes very little adjustment, very little pressure, very little movement to steer the plane dramatically to one side or another. And with a little nudge, a little guidance, the plane can completely change direction.
Left in that position, the plane will continue to circle, tighter and tighter in the same direction. You can't just turn left. At some point, you have to turn right to straighten the plane out.
I remember when I was learning to drive, changing lanes was a huge challenge, because intellectually, I thought you'd have to turn the wheel in the same way as when you're turning off onto another street. But in truth, to change lanes, it's better if you just make the slightest, most subtle adjustment, and almost lean into the direction in which you'd like to go.
Now I change lanes with ease, zipping in and out of traffic almost like a snake in the sand, gliding from side to side.
Sometimes the smallest changes make the biggest difference.
Slideshow:
Related Reading
Elegy for the Flightless Bird
I'd first read about Warner Springs as an up-and-coming wine country, to give nearby Temecula and Julian a run for their money. But then I discovered there's a lot more to do here, including flying planes.
When I arrived at Sky Sailing today, I had no intention on actually flying a plane myself. I wanted someone to fly me, and I would go along for the ride. But when they offered- and kept offering - I couldn't turn the opportunity down.
I asked for the most basic plane, with the most basic package, at the shortest time frame available. No acrobatics. Just for beginners, the gentlest experience possible.
The cockpit was a two-seater, with me in front, gauges and controls on my dashboard and between my legs.
"I don't think I want to fly," I said. It wasn't that I didn't want to get in the plane. It's just that I didn't want to have any responsibility.
"OK well we'll see when we get up there," Keith, my pilot and soon-to-be flight instructor, said.
At first, we were being towed by another plane, the tow line tight between us.
But soon, the tow plane was ready to release us.
And then we were on our own.
And soon I was on my own, my pilot urging me again, "You sure you don't want to fly?" at which point I responded, "OK, yeah, sure."
I couldn't turn it down.
Flying a sailplane like this one (also known as a glider), you have a kind of joystick between your legs, and a pedal beneath each foot. Adjust the joystick to the right, step down on the right pedal, and the plane turns right. But the incredible part is that it actually takes very little adjustment, very little pressure, very little movement to steer the plane dramatically to one side or another. And with a little nudge, a little guidance, the plane can completely change direction.
Left in that position, the plane will continue to circle, tighter and tighter in the same direction. You can't just turn left. At some point, you have to turn right to straighten the plane out.
I remember when I was learning to drive, changing lanes was a huge challenge, because intellectually, I thought you'd have to turn the wheel in the same way as when you're turning off onto another street. But in truth, to change lanes, it's better if you just make the slightest, most subtle adjustment, and almost lean into the direction in which you'd like to go.
Now I change lanes with ease, zipping in and out of traffic almost like a snake in the sand, gliding from side to side.
Sometimes the smallest changes make the biggest difference.
Slideshow:
Related Reading
Elegy for the Flightless Bird
All Is Full of Love
I might be paraphrasing a bit here, but at some point in the final act of the film Magnolia, William H. Macy's character is sobbing and says something like, "I have so much love to give...and nowhere...to PUT IT!"
I've always related to that.
I've always looked for a person to love. But I've never loved my own life.
Til now.
I love my apartment. It's mostly furnished now, and not really decorated, but I love what it is now, and what it can be.
I love my car.
I love my commute to work.
I love lunches in Santa Monica.
I love having a job again.
I love walking to and from the Sunset Strip and not having to drive home.
I love my new MacBook Pro.
I love starting over with a clean slate.
I love meeting new people, and I love some of the people I've met. (Or, at least, I like them very much.)
I love being a brunette in a blonde city.
I love suburban sprawl.
I love LA.
I love my life now. And I love what my life can be.
I'd love to share it with somebody.
To become a fan on Facebook, click here.
I've always related to that.
I've always looked for a person to love. But I've never loved my own life.
Til now.
I love my apartment. It's mostly furnished now, and not really decorated, but I love what it is now, and what it can be.
I love my car.
I love my commute to work.
I love lunches in Santa Monica.
I love having a job again.
I love walking to and from the Sunset Strip and not having to drive home.
I love my new MacBook Pro.
I love starting over with a clean slate.
I love meeting new people, and I love some of the people I've met. (Or, at least, I like them very much.)
I love being a brunette in a blonde city.
I love suburban sprawl.
I love LA.
I love my life now. And I love what my life can be.
I'd love to share it with somebody.
To become a fan on Facebook, click here.
March 06, 2011
Photo Essay: The Gamble House, Pasadena (Updated for 2020)
[Last updated 3/5/20 6:30 PM PT regarding new management]
Pasadena was founded in the 1870s by families from Indiana looking to escape Midwestern winters, and since became a destination for Middle American industrialist magnates like William Libbey of Libbey Glass. They built winter homes that occupied a large horizontal footprint, but from the outside appeared almost modest—despite the tremendous investment they required.
And so Pasadenans are known to say, "If you're not comfortable in Los Angeles, you'll be comfortable here."
And I, being from a town as Midwestern as Central New York can get, feel very comfortable in Pasadena, too.
One of its many architectural marvels is The Gamble House, commissioned by David Gamble of Proctor & Gamble.
Most people would recognize The Gamble House as the setting for Doc Brown's house and workshop in Back To The Future (particularly the garage).
The garage once housed several (electric!) cars at the time of the Gamble family—but now it's the visitor's center and gift shop where the house tours begin.
It was designed by the architectural partnership of Charles and Henry Greene in 1908, at the height of the Arts & Crafts movement...
...which was somewhat of a predecessor to Art Deco, but with a focus on open-air and outdoor spaces.
Many of its characteristic designs are quite geometric.
But there's also an embrace of elements of nature—particularly Asian flowers and trees (like gingko, dogwood, and other Japanese plants).
These themes are repeated not only in the art glass doors and windows...
...but also the lighting fixtures designed by both Greene & Greene and Louis Comfort Tiffany.
Electricity was still relatively new at the time of the Gambles' arrival to Pasadena, and no one was entirely sure how safe it was. Most bulbs were of a low wattage, and most of the fixtures either directed the beams away from people's faces (and up towards the ceiling) or provided some kind of shield.
The low lighting and mixture of deep brown woods (maple, Honduras and Santo Domingo mahogany, black walnut, etc.) make the inside of the house incredibly dark—so much so that the Gambles couldn't find any prospective buyers for it who didn't want to paint everything white to brighten it up.
So, to preserve the integrity of the interior, the Gamble family initiated the process of converting their private home into public property...
...gifting it to the City of Pasadena in 1966.
Its educational activities now as a house museum open for tours are managed by USC, whose strong ties to the California Arts & Crafts Movement along the Arroyo Seco date back to the late 19th century. [Ed: As of March 2020, The Gamble House is managed by a newly-formed non-profit organization, The Gamble House Conservancy.]
The Arroyo was pretty wild back at the turn of the last century—but now, the area of Westmoreland Place and Orange Grove Boulevard (a.k.a. "Millionaire's Row"), just 0.3 miles from the "dry river," has been tamed into manicured lawns and lotus ponds.
A red-eared slider turtle is about as wild as it gets now.
The Gamble House is one of many Craftsman homes in Pasadena, enough worthy for a whole walking tour of the neighborhood.
But on its own, the Gamble House is so huge and its design is so intricate, you've got to tour it several times just to see everything.
I've been twice, and I still feel as though I've only scratched the surface.
But fortunately, the photography restrictions have recently been softened—which means I'll be back.
Related Posts:
Photo Essay: The Mysteries of the Pasadena Magic House & Museum
A Pasadena Mansion Plays the Role of Plantation
Photo Essay: The House of Chewing Gum and Roses
Photo Essay: The Time Capsule That Is Lanterman House
Pasadena was founded in the 1870s by families from Indiana looking to escape Midwestern winters, and since became a destination for Middle American industrialist magnates like William Libbey of Libbey Glass. They built winter homes that occupied a large horizontal footprint, but from the outside appeared almost modest—despite the tremendous investment they required.
And so Pasadenans are known to say, "If you're not comfortable in Los Angeles, you'll be comfortable here."
And I, being from a town as Midwestern as Central New York can get, feel very comfortable in Pasadena, too.
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
It was designed by the architectural partnership of Charles and Henry Greene in 1908, at the height of the Arts & Crafts movement...
...which was somewhat of a predecessor to Art Deco, but with a focus on open-air and outdoor spaces.
Many of its characteristic designs are quite geometric.
But there's also an embrace of elements of nature—particularly Asian flowers and trees (like gingko, dogwood, and other Japanese plants).
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
circa 2017
But fortunately, the photography restrictions have recently been softened—which means I'll be back.
Related Posts:
Photo Essay: The Mysteries of the Pasadena Magic House & Museum
A Pasadena Mansion Plays the Role of Plantation
Photo Essay: The House of Chewing Gum and Roses
Photo Essay: The Time Capsule That Is Lanterman House
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)