Choose Your Company

Olive was at the Beverly Center with her grandkids today. I heard her speaking while going down the escalator and was excited to hear a Jamaican accent. I grew up in Miami with a lot of Jamaicans and oddly, even with my New York-inflected family, it reminds me of home. It turns out she lives just north of Miami and was only visiting Los Angeles for the weekend.

Olive uses a cane to assist her in walking, so her grandson asked if I could interview her after we got downstairs and away from the crowd. We tucked into a little hall by the parking garage to talk. "I have medical problems," she told me. I thought she'd complain of the difficulty in walking but she continued, "and everyting I eat tastes awful." I said, "I couldn't imagine not tasting my favorite Jamaican dishes - ackee and salt fish, jerk chicken, and curry patties." She said no matter how spicy or flavorful she can't taste it. Then she remembered. "Cayenne pepper. That's my other advice. I put it on everyting now."

Just Be Happy

I was at my friend, Yitzy's building today. There's a pool there. On 85 degree sunny, summer days like today it's great to have access to a pool. And when he's not there, I just sneak in.

There was one older woman at the pool today - that's it. Odd to think there was a time I would chase young women and now I find myself running after any old people I see. Yitzy spotted her first and called me over. To pay him back, I later started a conversation with a couple of bikini-clad sun bathers who just moved here from Florida to become fashion designers. I chatted for a bit, told them I was married, and then excused myself so Yitzy could do his thing. I think it was a fair trade.

Shirley's a widow who lost her husband a year and a half ago. When I asked her for advice the first thing she did was tell me about her husband, who "I miss very much." She said, "If I told you what my husband made a week when we first got married you wouldn't believe it. He made $50 a week and we lived in a brand new house in the Bronx that was $105 a month. That was living high. That was what he wanted for me." She continued proudly, "It was right next door to the Concourse Hotel. And that was elite. That was class. And that's what my husband wanted to give me - class."

She worked for one year in her entire life. Her husband made sure to give her whatever she wanted. Married for 63 years, you think she'd fall apart after his death but I didn't get that sense at all. She glowed, she joked, she enjoyed being outside. Her husband was her world, but when he died her world kept on going. A spitting image of Shirley was sitting next to her - one of her two daughters.

David's Five Pillars of Life: Nature, Friends, Music, Food, and Art

My wife and I are at Pan Pacific Park playing with our dog when David walks over with his dog, Totoro (named after the Hayao Miyazaki film, My Neighbor Totoro). While talking to us he throws out a nice piece of advice so I ask him if I can film him. He says, "Would it be okay if we did it another time? I'm in a rush." He then proceeds to give me his home address so I can stop by. I say, "It'll only take 30 seconds," and so he agrees. I film him, he tosses out some words of wisdom, and then I thank him for his time. Curious for some back story I ask, "Where are you from?" He says, "Oh, that might take awhile." I start to sit, assuming he'll rush off but instead he stands there; and suddenly over an hour has gone by while David walks me through the place of his birth up until retirement.

The quick version is that this Texas-born 72-year-old lived most of his life working as an art historian. His father worked on oil wells. David managed to get to Berkeley University in 1960, at a time when it was easy to get grants for "weird professions like mine." He loves Asian culture and that was what he studied and later taught. He spent years traveling (all with various grant money) through India, Cambodia, Thailand, and much of South Asia. When most did drugs, he leaned towards drinking and spent a great deal of time in jazz clubs in Detroit. Retired, he now lives in LA because his wife works as a UCLA Librarian; but he misses Austin, Texas and would love to go back. "My wife's the business manager and I'm the entertainment manager in the relationship," he tells me. I recommend a blues club to him - Babe's and Ricky's Inn - where I tell him he needs to hear Mickey Champion sing. He's excited to write it down and gives me his number if ever I want to accompany him. At some point in the conversation I jokingly say, "David, I thought you were in a rush?" He says, "Well, now you've got me talking. Dinner can wait. This has been fun."

It's nice getting to know new people. But, I think there's another reason why I do this. It makes the people I talk to feel happy. All of us walk through life lonely at times - but especially those on the fringes, like the elderly. And while they're enriching my life, I'm hopefully giving them something, as well. Maybe it's a voice to the oft-ignored, or just the simple act of letting someone know that the things they say matter.

David, Age 72.

Don't Give In

Before I officially started this blog I was sitting on the stoop with Frank and Abe talking about life. Wanting to capture it, but not having a camera, I asked them for some advice using the video camera on my cell phone. I clipped the end of the video which is basically a minute of Abe not understanding what I'm asking and Frank trying to explain it in Yiddish - "Lebe meisseh," which I think translates to Life Story. Abe says, "A story? No, I don't want it. Leave me alone." And, Frank cracks up. I thought he was upset but two seconds later he's telling me a story (which sadly I didn't capture on camera). Abe ended up being my first official interview for the blog.

I saw Abe yesterday and I told him that a lot of people have emailed me to let me know how much they like him. He said, "You found work for this? Good." He doesn't care about the fans. He just wants to make sure I'm working. I'm too embarrassed to tell him I don't get paid to do this. I just like it. He followed with, "You need to have babies." When I asked him why, he responded, "Because it will make you a happy life!"

Frank and Abe.

Be Happy With What You've Got

After a week of interviewing older people I'm learning that it's pretty damn hard to walk over to people on the street holding a camera. Some are open to it, but many are nervous - and rightfully so. So, I call my friend, Chaiky and ask if I can interview some people she knows on her block. After a couple of No's, Yehuda pops open the door and immediately starts talking.

He immigrated from Iran in the late 1950's and worked as an engineer and a landscaper. A divorcee, he says he regrets marrying so late in life - 37. And, he tells me that if he could do it all over again he would have studied poetry and music. "I was too focused on the rat race, the capitalist pursuits. Now, I study Iranian literature." His favorite poet is Rumi. I get the feeling that Yehuda misses having a family. As we turn to leave he reminds Chaiky, "You have the greatest thing right there. Your baby."

The Screenwriter

Al lives on one end of the block and I live on the other. He's a cantankerous guy when he wants to be but it usually just makes me laugh. He once came up to my apartment to take a look at some footage I had been shooting. He used to make a living as a screenwriter and when I told him a friend and I were filming a TV pilot on spec (meaning no one hired us to do it), he said he wanted to check it out. He watched some footage for a few minutes and then said, "That's enough. What the hell is this? This isn't how you tell a story!" I told him he was watching a scene - out of order and without context. He didn't care. He railed into me, leaving my writing partner and me speechless. Later that night, I got a call from Al saying he hoped he wasn't too harsh. I said, "It doesn't bother me, Al. I appreciate the honesty." Some time later, Al saw me on the street and asked me about the pilot. I told him it won Best Comedy at the LA ITV Fest and was just bought by Starz. He said, "Huh... you see? What the hell do I know?"

I interview Al in his apartment, after he shows me some footage from the new release of a 1982 movie he wrote called Lookin' To Get Out starring (and co-written by) Jon Voight. The director's cut was never released as Hal Ashby had a fight with the studio and donated it to USC in order to have it be seen the way he intended. Al's excited about the release, as he's struggled for a really long time and it's nice for any of us to see our work get recognized - even after 37 years. "Jon's been a very good friend to me," Al says in the softest voice I've heard him ever use. But it doesn't take long for him to toughen up. Asking to see the footage of what we just shot, he takes a look at it on the camera and says in reference to some of the other people on the blog, "Siberian prisoners... please." He watches himself some more, "I said some really profound stuff. This is great." And I know he means it.

Al Schwartz, Screenwriter - age 77.

Happy Father's Day

The one person I'd really like to get advice from today is my dad. I guess that's partly what drives me to seek it out from others. When I was 16 my dad got non-smoking lung cancer. He died a year and a half later. He was 50. That would make him 67 today, and I think - even though he'd yell at me for it - I can throw him in this blog as an "old person."

My career's had ups and downs... fine, more downs than ups... but I'm persistent. And, I got that from him. He was a partner at Ernst & Young and he worked hard for it. He was a great father to the four of us, and a great husband to my mom. He was also a lot of fun - he had a very silly side, which I guess is where I got it. I remember he found this quote from Calvin Coolidge and he cut it out and pinned it up for us to see: Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with great talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.

I miss him a lot today.