Home

A few days ago a reporter asked John McCain an odd question. He asked, “Mr. McCain, how many homes do you own?”. It sounds like a very simple question. McCain stammered and replied, “I’ll have to have my staff get back to you on that”. Huh? How can anyone be confused about how many homes they have? But I might have answered the question the same way as Mr. McCain. For a different reason.

For the record, Art and I don’t own any homes at the moment. We sold our home in 2005 and have been renting since, biding our time, waiting to decide whether and when we might buy a home again.
(A subject for another day). But you could argue that *we belong to* several homes. Let me explain.

We’ re back in Morris, Connecticut visiting with Art’ s mom, Marge. Now that I’ve been a part of this family for over twenty years (I considered us family to each other even before we were married nineteen years ago) – I feel that this has become another home. This is Art’ s ancestral home. And even though I am a relative new-comer, a second-generation American with roots in Eastern Europe, I feel accepted and part of the clan. This is home. And, oh, yes. Southern California is home. I’ve lived there for about 30 years, and my sisters and their families live there, too. My mom lived there for 30 years before she passed away in April, so – of course, I am now officially an Angeleno. (Is the feminine of “Angeleno” “Angelena”?). We are part of the culture of Southern California. We are health-conscious vegetarians. We practice yoga. We are musicians. We drink cappuccinos and lattes. We shop at Trader Joe’s and (occasionally) Whole Foods. You get the picture. In other words, we fit right in to what my father used to describe as “the land of the fruits and the nuts”. (Daddy was never one to be constrained by political correctness!). This is home.

And that brings me to my third home: Pittsburgh. I know I have described Pittsburgh to you before. The word “Pittsburgh” evokes such strong emotions in me that I am hard-pressed to describe it in a few words. Pittsburgh is paradoxically the place that resonates in the deepest reaches of my soul, and yet also repels me with equal force. I love it. I don’ t think I could live there – at least, easily – anymore. I ran as fast and as far as I could from Pittsburgh at seventeen and have never lived there since. And yet, whenever I hear of someone living in Pittsburgh or even visiting, I have a sense of bittersweet nostalgia. I miss the corner of Forbes and Murray, the easy back-and-forth style of conversation, Isaly’s sandwich shop, the earthy good nature of the people, my father’s family, whose ranks are diminishing, my grandmother’s cooking, the crisp autumn days. That’ s home.

Have there been other homes? Yes, to varying degrees. I lived in New York City for a year in my twenties. I loved the energy, the utter “city-ness” of it, the sense of possibility hanging in the air. That’s home.

But I also lived in New Mexico for a year and I loved it, too. I immediately felt a sense of home when I touched down for the first time in Albuquerque. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains sang to me. I loved the arroyos and the bright red chiles hanging on the porch. I loved the adobe and the cactus and the farrolitos at Christmas. I loved the wide open spaces. That’s home.

And then, too. I have a moveable home. That is my home with Art. If we lived in an RV with no permanent address, on a barge on the Mississippi, in a cabin on Lake George, in an igloo at the North Pole, that would be home, so long as we are together. That is my heart. That is my home.

SUNSHINE

SUNSHINE

We’ve been enduring five days of non-stop rain here in Southern California. Some communities were flooded. There was a huge landslide yesterday in a tiny town near the ocean just south of Santa Barbara. There were several fatalities and people are still missing in the rubble. A house not too far from us in the Hollywood Hills was completely destroyed. Miraculously, the father and his two children, who were inside the house when it collapsed, were safely rescued. The rain was so heavy and relentless that people everywhere were complaining of “cabin fever”. If you drove, you took your life in your hands. The skies were gun metal gray for so long that we didn’t think they would ever be sunny again.

The weather forecasters were telling us yesterday that the worst was yet to come. They told us a cold front down from the north, and the “pineapple express”, a front of warm air from the south, were due to collide at about 3:00 a.m. this morning in the L.A. Basin. The result would be more heavy downpours, high winds, thunderstorms, and possible tornados. This last storm was supposed to last until noon today.

I looked at the steep hillside which overlooks our property, as well as the humungous house that is built right out to the edge of the property that forms the top of said hill, and I thought that maybe this time we wouldn’t be so lucky. Maybe this record-breaking series of storms that had dumped over 20 inches of rain in the past two weeks would finally cause our carefully terraced hillside and all its trees and groundcover to tumble down and destroy our home.

In any event, I didn’t want to spend one more sleepless night lying awake listening to the wind howl and the hail beating against our windowpane. I suggested to Art that we spend the night in a hotel. To my surprise, he didn’t tell me I was crazy. It turns out that he wasn’t looking forward to a night of lying awake, either. So we packed up our cat, Henry, and all his gear, packed toothbrushes for ourselves, and off we went to the hotel just down the road.

You know that expression about “making lemonade out of a lemon?” Well, that’s exactly what we did. Once we had Henry settled with his food and his kitty litter, we went downstairs to the lobby and ordered a glass of wine. We took our wine up to the room with us and finished it while we watched TV. I took a hot bath and worked on the crossword puzzle. We slept like babies. The room was mercifully dark and so insolated from the weather that we didn’t even hear the rain. We woke up to see that the sun was out and the rain had stopped. We had breakfast at the hotel, then packed up Henry and our toothbrushes and came home.

When we got home, the hillside was still intact. Our home was unscathed. The terrible storm that was supposed to have lasted about nine hours had only blown through and then taken a turn to the south. So maybe we overreacted to the forecast. Maybe it was a crazy idea. And maybe it was overly extravagant. But I’m glad we did it. After all, if we had stayed in our house instead of going to the hotel, I’m sure the storm would have been all they had predicted and more! (It’s some kind of a corollary of Murphy’s Law).

Of course, the power was out when we got home, and it stayed off for several hours. But when we took our daily walk, all the neighbors were out of doors, just enjoying the sunshine. Everyone was friendly and talkative. We all knew we had dodged a bullet.

© 2005, Robin Munson

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

One last day for 2004. (Perhaps for some of you reading this, it is already 2005)!

Here in Southern California, the Good Lord has chosen to force us into a day of contemplation. The rain is coming down fast and furious, and as you probably know by now, Angelinos do not travel in rain. We hunker down in our homes, doing yoga, writing screenplays, and talking on our cell phones. (You probably also know by now that you should avoid talking on landlines during thunderstorms lest you be zapped).

My to-do list is strange and varied:

1) Write blog.

2) Pick up turkey at store for my sister’s wedding tomorrow.

3) Make pasta salad for my sister’s wedding tomorrow.

4) Make a pot of vegetable soup (We’ve still got to eat tonight).

5) Practice song I am to sing for said wedding.

6) Figure out what to wear for said wedding.

7) Figure out what my husband will wear for said wedding.

Listen to reasons husband will not wear suggested attire for said wedding.

9) Take a walk if there is a break in the weather.

10) Get on Health Rider contraption for a half hour if there is no break in the weather.

11) Call family back East to wish them a Happy New Year.

12) Do laundry so there will be clean underwear for said wedding (if the electricity doesn’t go out again).

13) Shower and wash hair so that I will not offend at said wedding.

14) Clean entire house for the new year (or whatever I can accomplish in half an hour).

Not glamorous. Not even coherent. Just what is (off the top of my head, actually).

And one more item for my list: 15) Try to avoid any new year’s resolutions.

I can’t even remember what my new year’s resolutions were for last year, so I can’t tell you whether or not they had any impact on my life. What I can tell you for sure is that such resolutions achieve only one thing for me – guilt, as in, “Oh look! It’s only January 3rd, and already you are in flagrant violation of your own New Year’s resolution!”

Okay. So actually, I do have a resolution for the New Year: Resolved. Not to make any New Year’s resolutions!

I wish you and yours a happy, healthy, and peaceful New Year.

© 2004, Robin Munson

OUR GLOBAL NEIGHBORHOOD

OUR GLOBAL NEIGHBORHOOD

We heard on the news last night that there has been a catastrophic earthquake in Sumatra, Indonesia, which has caused tsunamis – giant tidal waves – in many locations along the Indian Ocean. Thousands of people are known to have lost their lives, and perhaps tens of thousands or more have lost their homes and their livelihoods. Already, the pictures pouring in from Sumatra, Thailand, India and Bangladesh, are haunting me.

When I hear of a disaster of this magnitude, I generally feel as if the bottom has fallen out. I like to think of this earth of ours as a benign, bountiful mother who provides for all our needs, so long as she is respected and cared for. In the face of such a major catastrophic event, I feel helpless, impotent and frustrated. And I feel scared. You often hear people say, “There, but for the grace of God go I”. I’m not convinced that the “grace of God” has anything to do with who is selected as victims of Mother Earth’s wrath. I rather think that it comes down to a matter of who happened to be in the way of an energy wave or a tropical storm at just the right moment.

We live in Los Angeles, so we’re not exactly strangers to earthquakes. The last major earthquake here was in 1994, so, as those cheery little folks from Cal-Tech like to point out, we’re due any time, and they’re not giving us too much reason to hope that we’ll be spared what the scientists like to call “a major event”. (Doesn’t that sound like a movie premiere?) No, the best and the brightest periodically point out that we’re headed for something pretty spectacular.

Well, we’ve got our supply of bottled water, our cell phones, our first aid kits, our auxiliary lighting, our battery operated TV and radios, and our emergency suitcase packed. We’ve figured out the “safest” spot in the house. We’ve “earthquake proofed” what we can by securing objects to the wall and putting special latches on our cupboards to keep the dishes from flying out. All those provisions are of some small comfort to me.

But no matter how well prepared we may be, we cannot prevent the earthquake from coming. I would like to think that when that happens, the world will not turn its back on Southern California. There are always unexpected contingencies that arise at such times. No country, no people, no matter how advanced or affluent they may be, can single-handedly provide for all the crises that arise from a natural disaster.

This planet is our neighborhood. If our neighbors in Indonesia are in trouble, eventually, that is going to spell trouble for all of us. Last night I tried to reach the American Red Cross in order to make a donation for the victims of the earthquake. Apparently, I was not the only one! I tried several times to get through without success. Finally, this morning I went on line and made a donation. It was not huge, but even a small donation can make a difference.

Maybe we can’t control natural disasters, but we are in total control of how we respond to them. If you have a little of the Christmas spirit left, please consider a gift to our global neighborhood.

There are many ways to help. You can call the American Red Cross at 1-800-HELPNOW, or you can donate on line. Their Web address is www.redcross.org. If you would rather give some other way, perhaps you can take up a collection at your school, your church or your place of business. I’m sure there are many organizations that will be setting up drives to help. But this is really much more important than anything else I could have written about this morning.

The Red Cross has a motto: “Together, we can save a life”. And, who knows? Next time, it might be yours or mine.

© 2004, Robin Munson