Lean On Me

 

Lean on Me

I made the decision this week that I am committed to do (1) blog post per week for the rest of 2025.  Who knows if that will stick.  I always wanted to write something.  I was never exactly sure what to write about.  "They" say, everyone has a book in them.  Who are "they" anyway?  I think they is part voice in your head and part an asshole that you met at a dinner party.  "They" say egg yolk causes high cholesterol.  "They" say you can grow your hair back using topical spray.  "They" say if your house burns down you should blog about it and turn it into a book.

"Sometimes in our lives. We all have pain. We all have sorrow. But if we are wise. We know that there's always tomorrow."

So if I write 52 blogs in a year, that's about 100 to 150 pages of material.  If I double space and increase the font like I did in school, it could be like 250 pages.  If I add pictures, 300.  Now I have a book.  Or a large pamphlet.  What should I really write about?  I know I like helping people. I just reread all my blogs.  My house burned down seems to be the consistent theme.  Duh.  That's been pretty easy to write about because it's hard not to think about these days.  But how long are you going to want to read about my house burning down?  It's almost old news already.  It' day 22.  There's another theme about mourning, loss, life.  Maybe a book called, "Good Mourning: Who Died Today?" or "Burnt Toast: Butter Up That Bitch" or "Shit Happens: Don't Step in It."  I don't know.  Do you like any of these names?  There are a ton of books on those topics written by much more talented (and qualified) people. 

I'm not a professional writer and never really thought about writing a book until my house burned down.  My friend Shalom is a real writer.  His latest book is called "Feh".   I went to his reading on Sunset and bought (2 ) books.  He even signed them for me.  Feh means Yuck.  He named his book after my blogs.  Not really.  But for some reason I can hear Shalom ripping the shit out of this "blog to book idea."  I know he feels bad for me, but not that bad.  I hear, "Hey man I've been a writer for my entire career and you think just because your house burns down you can get published?"  Feh!  In all fairness he hasn't officially said that, it's just me projecting.  However, both of his signed book copies did burn down. Feh!

"Lean on me. When you're not strong. And I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on... For it won't be long. Till I'm gonna need somebody to lean on"

Wendy collected JD Salinger books.  She had 43 different copies of "Catcher in The Rye".  That number was just in case USAA reads my blogs.  I collected baseball cards.  Every year I bought a TOPPS season collection that included every baseball player from that year.  I had a collection of every player during my lifetime (1964 to 2025).  Fuck. Feh! Fuck.  For our paper anniversary, Wendy bought me Nolan Ryan's Rookie Card.  For all you newlyweds, "paper" is your 1st anniversary gift.  For our 1st anniversary, I bought Wendy rolling papers.  For our 15th wedding anniversary, Wendy bought me (2) Dodger seats from Dodger Stadium.  For all you over 10+ year marriages, get ready.  Your 15th anniversary is "Chairs from Stadiums." 

Donate Here.  Please Continue to Live and Share

So far the blog has raised an incredible $37,427.  

I'm totally blown away by the support.  Turns out that people really feel bad for you when your house burns down.  And feel extra bad for an entire community.  Donating is a way of feeling like you are helping.  You are.  Sending money means something.  It's a commitment.  It's an action.  It's living.  Thank you.  I really want to thank everyone individually, but I will spare you.  But there are a good handful of contributors that evoked an "Unexpected WOW" in me.  I learned that term when I worked at Intuit.  Scott Cook (Founder/Billionaire/Smart as Fuck) pushed his employees to create unexpected wows with customers.  It could be what the software did.  WOW.  Or how a support call helped a customer.  WOW.  Or when someone contributes unexpectedly or contributes an unexpected amount. WOW.  

"Please swallow your pride. If I have things you need to borrow. For no one can fill. Those of your needs that you won't let show. You just call on me brother when you need a hand. We all need somebody to lean on"

Chris, my ex boss at Intuit donated $1,000.  The last time I spoke to him, I quit Intuit.  WOW.  Another Chris that I'm currently working with, and I know has very critical financial needs, donated $1,000.  WOW.  Mindy, a childhood friend donated $1,000 and invited us to stay at her house in Texas. WOW.  Michelle, donated $1,000.  The last time I saw Michelle, I think I tried to kiss her at camp in 6th grade.  WOW.  River Cohen, my partner at PCIHIPAA, donated $10,000.  WOW.  Double WOW.  Mr. C. walks the walk.  In no way am I discounting all others that have donated.  I'm just sharing some of my WOW's.  I'm extremely grateful for everyone's support.  Let's make some WOW's.

Today is January 28, 2025.  28 days into Dry January.  4 days from Heroin February.  32 days until Molly March.  63 days from Acid April.  You get it.  Picked the wrong month to stop sniffing glue.  Especially after today.  What a day.  When will January end?  2025 will be forever different than the rest.  It will be known as AF (After Fires).  I haven't seen our neighborhood yet.  But today is the day they lifted all evacuation orders, and we're allowed to visit our homes for the first time.  It's been 3 weeks.  

But today's the day.  All you are required to do is check in on Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) and show ID.  Seems easy.  I arrived at the ID station along with 1,000's of fellow homeowners.  Dennis Miller once said, "There is no way the LAPD could have killed O.J., they can't even thin out traffic at a Dodger game." Same theme at PCH.  The line was 2+ hours long to show ID and get a piece of paper.  I decided to park my car and walk up to see what was really going on.  "Officer, what should I do if I Uber'd here?" He contemplated.  Then said, "I'm not sure.  Try going over there.  Do you have ID?"  I think what he meant to say was, "Go over there and save yourself 2.5 hours."  Sorry, fellow Palisadians in cars having coffee. Time is money. Honey.   If you are reading this, do the walk-up.  I skipped back to my car, and saved 2.5 hours.

"I just might have a problem that you'll understand. We all need somebody to lean on. Lean on me. When you're not strong. And I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on..."

I don't even know why they need this step?  They also stopped me and asked me for ID at the neighborhood checkpoint.  If this is any indication on how the debris cleanup and rebuilding effort is going to go, we are all fucked.  Join Wendy and I and the kids for the grand re-opening of 1057 Chautauqua on January 28, 2035.  I will have just turned 70 and we'll serve cake, ice cream, and Metamucil.

The reason I decided to get the peekaboo pass was for my USAA insurance adjuster.  For some reason, they still need to walk the property to pay for some of the coverage items, like debris removal.  USAA has been great, but sending adjusters out to walk fully burned down homes is stupid, and dangerous.  Everything online says it's still not safe to dig through the ash, breathe in the polluted air, or fart near your fireplace.   

FIRE LEARNING: Review your Home Owner's Policy ASAP.  Fully understand what is covered and if you are comfortable with your limits.  Prices change.  Markets change.  We rebuilt our home in 2010, and I hadn't reviewed the policy since then.  It was 100% dumb luck that our limits were ok.  Many people I know are not feeling the same.  You never know what can happen.  I know you believe me.  Still.  Believe me.  Your house could burn down.  Take the time and review your policy now.  

Ok.  It was time to drive into the neighborhood.  It's so hard to comprehend what happened on 1/7.  

What started as a familiar hillside fire in the distance (1/7 @10:15 am)

Then turned into this....

Pali High off Sunset

I drove to 1057.  Took my normal route from Sunset.  It was far from normal.  Seeing it first hand, first time, is daunting.  It's surreal.  We have about 1,000 homes in the Alphabet Streets (our neighborhood).  These homes, for the most part, are all gone.  Nada.  Lot's of chimneys and burnt palm trees.  I was driving the neighborhood and it was silent.  Then, for some I should see a shrink reason, while driving the burnt neighborhood I could faintly hear "Ding - a - ling - a - ling. Ice cream (ala Eddie Murphy)"  What the fuck?   Growing up I loved the ice cream truck.  Snow cones.  Drum sticks.  An occasional blow pop.  I fell in love with ice cream, and Palisades had an ice cream truck.  It's why we moved there.  Our neighborhood is gone and I'm listening to the ice cream truck's playlist in my head.  But what I was "seeing" was different.  Devastation everywhere.   All I could think about was how long this is going to take to rebuild?  How long for the community to rebound?  The headwinds are strong on this one.

"For it won't be long. Till I'm gonna need somebody to lean on. You just call on me brother. When you need a hand. We all need somebody to lean on"

Here's a house on our block that was just built and listed for a crazy $18 million or something.  I always thought it was way too high.  Now, I'm sure it is.

Private Showing. Nothing.

Here's our Starbucks.

I'll have a triple vanilla mocha light foam latte.  Extra hot.

Here's the Fire Station.  I don't even know what to say.  I support LAFD.  I'm in awe and grateful for the first responders.  I guess my point of view is they were let down.  I'll wait until all the facts are confirmed.  But 21 days in and this looks like one colossal shit show.  It smells bad.  Even today.

Station 69.  After the Session.

In our village, Caruso hired his own LAFD to protect it.  It worked.  He was the only one that seemed prepared. 

Poof is in the pudding.  No poof for Caruso.

After my ice cream dream, I headed back to Manhattan Beach.  But I knew the worse part of my day was ahead.  Much worse.  Yes, driving the neighborhood and pulling into my driveway gave me some necessary closure.  But my ultimate closure is what lies ahead.  Sparky, our 1057 dog, is ready to be put down to rest.   He's ready.  He helped us get through our evacuation.  Get through the news of our home burning down.  And ultimately helped us get settled into our next chapter (AF).  In a weird way we were all leaning on him for some normalcy. Any normalcy. 

Who's a good boy?

So around 3:30pm Wendy and I Facetime'd the kids with Sparky so they could say their final goodbyes.  We all watched as Wendy fed Sparky his last meal.  Chocolate bars and cookies.  FYI.  Sparky likes chocolate.  He Willy Wonka'd the shit out of it.   

We Cerealsly Love Our Sparky

I had not cried since our house burned down.  I'm emotional.  But I don't cry that much.  Remember the Mayor.  Mr. Compartmentalizer.  I think that is why.  I try and stay positive for the most part and for my family.  I like being strong.  It's a male, ego thing.  I'm not saying if you cry you are not strong.  I guess my emotions typically do not express themselves that way.  Again, I'm not a therapist so I don't know why.  But the weight of Dry January finally hit me when I was talking to the kids, and we were all preparing to say goodbye.  I was experiencing a buffet of mourning, and just had enough.  We all had enough.  It's been quit a month.  Today was all I could eat.  I cried.  I balled, and finally let it out.  We all cried as Julia and Reid said their final goodbyes.  

"I just might have a problem that you'll understand. We all need somebody to lean on. If there is a load you have to bear. That you can't carry. I'm right up the road. I'll share your load. If you just call me. Call me. If you need a friend"

Uncle Ivan Needed a Friend...

Night night Sparky

Good Mourning... it's 1/29/25...