My late friend Gary Bankston never knocked. He would just blast through the door, shouting:
“Comp’ny!”
He had the voice of an angel … could sing your head right off your neck. He was also brilliantly funny and relentlessly naughty. Gary was a native of Cleveland, Texas and had the accent and the countrified mannerisms to prove it. He worked for me for a few years and was in truth a terrible assistant, but—man, oh man—was he good company. The bad behavior did him in, of course, as we all knew it would. He lived and died on his own terms, which it was his right to do, but it was hard to watch. I miss him.
My dear friend Judy was in town over the weekend, and I leapt at the chance to meet her for breakfast. It was the calm before the storm of the day she was readying for. She was in L.A. to receive an award from AARP for her role in the terrific film Women Talking. We took our time lingering over a morning meal at the Beverly Wilshire, where she was staying. We spoke of her kids, our health, and the things we love. Jude loves painting and ceramics and is learning to make “Sailor’s Valentines”: elaborately decorated boxes, which were long ago common gifts in the port communities of the Eastern Seaboard. I am invested in taking my love of cooking to the next level. Neither one of us is particularly ambitious these days, but we are deeply interested.
Two hours did not feel long enough, but it’s what we had.
“Next time you come, tack on an extra day! You can stay in the guest room, and we can wander and wonder and be.”
“You got it.”
I got to see Larry yesterday. He is a friend of nearly forty years who has relocated to California from New York. We met at the spectacular Disney Hall to hear and see the John Adams opera Girls of the Golden West. It is a chronicle of events that took place during the frenetic and fearsome period of the Gold Rush in California. Some of the stories it tells are so violent and tragic that I had to avert my eyes from the lyrics flashing across the wall in front of us. It is a story of people from all walks, who made their way west in search of fortune. Mexicans, Chileans, Chinese, Hawaiians, freed African Americans, and all varieties of Anglos descended upon the mining towns in pursuit of impossible riches. Many died at each other’s hands as men made adversaries of those who presented competition. People divided into tribes and took after rival groups with a terrible racist furor. The relentless assault on the Indian population is also present in the tale. Folks were desperate and often went unpaid for their labor, and this—along with heavy drinking—fueled the fighting. When some folks get rich, it is almost inevitable that others will be injured by it. During that volatile time, very few folks got wealthy while a whole lotta people got hurt.
“God, Larry—this is so violent. These folks were some crazy, rough customers! Dang!!!”
“Yes, well it was the Wild West after all,” he replied. “When it’s over and we turn on our cell phones, there will likely be news of the same sorts of things happening right now in 2023.”
“True. Dang.”
It is a tough story, but the composer-conductor John Adams was riveting to watch, the musicians were amazing, and every singer on the stage was impeccable. The divine bass baritone Davone Tines took my breath away.
We followed the show with dinner at Buvet, a lively downtown eatery which featured some terrific Israeli-inspired dishes. The cauliflower with turmeric and spices (and some kind of dipping cream) was off-the-charts delicious, and it was great to try new and different foods. It’s lovely to have Larry back in the neighborhood.
Being back in LA has brought me into proximity to a lot of old friends, and it is a joy to spend unhurried hours with those loves of a lifetime. I am also planning a visit to Austin soon, where I can convene with the many great, good pals I made there in the (incredibly) over-ten years it was my primary home. The time flew by. Ten years???? As I get older, this is what I most enjoy doing: savoring time with the people I care about. This also applies to long, meandering phone calls and poorly-lit FaceTimes and Zooms.
Russell arrives tonight with his sweet dog Ted in tow. Roxy will be thrilled to have a pup pal in the joint, and I am looking forward to a leisurely visit with a dear, dear friend.
“Do you want me to do a cocktail party? Should we do dinner at Ryan’s? Any place in particular that you would like to go?” I asked on a recent phone call.
“Not sure. I’m bringing my yoga mat. Definitely want to take classes and do some hiking. It will be nice just to be there with you. We can just let life happen and figure things out on the fly … yes? Good?” he replied.
“Perfect,” I grinned into the phone.
We are—all of us—becoming a bit less ambitious in life, and that applies even in the context of how to spend a day or what the night will bring. Whether we go out or stay in, there will be great food and stories of the good, the bad, and the ugly of our lives—but mostly the good. Dogs will be walked and groceries decided upon. Friends will be in the mix at most every turn. I will break out my yoga mat and get some much-needed exercise, but there will also be good wine to drink and some serious birthday cakes along the way, and of course the best part …
Company.
On we go …
Now I get it!
Beth — your life sounds so appreciated by you and your many friends make one envious. One good friend is a blessing. And you seem to have many. Life itself seems to taste better when you savor it.