los angeles

Tracy and I have known one another since high school, but we went on our first date on his birthday 16 years ago. This year, we decided to celebrate his 50th and our anniversary with a week in Los Angeles, the city to which we both are drawn.

As soon as we started telling people this is what we were going to do, we met with push back. 

A few people shared stories of how much they disliked L.A. and offered suggestions of alternative places to visit in California. Others feared we would fall victim to natural disaster. 

But we knew our hearts and we knew where our hearts wanted to go. I've been dreaming about L.A. since middle school, and Tracy, who has been several times to record music, already knew he loved it there.

We decided to stay in Laurel Canyon.

We arrived at night, and made our way up the long winding staircase to our treehouse in the stars. It was surreal to be there and I didn’t need any thumping sounds or gusts of cool air to tell me that the small little house on the side of the mountain with the giant yucca just outside the kitchen window was still populated by the ghosts of former residents.

Our first morning, four young deer visited us. They came grazing up the hillside right by the house and peered in at us. It was magical, to be in the wild and in the city at the same time.

I was also visited by a black and white tuxedo cat, and just down the hill, we could hear a chicken clucking.

The day was rainy with a forecast of a huge rainstorm looming.

Bleary-eyed, we drove around Hollywood and up and around Mulholland. The talk on the news was all about potential mudslides and road closures, so we went to the Trader Joe's on Sunset Blvd. to stock up on food and coffee.

That night, we met our friends Eric and Madison at El Coyote for dinner. They gently suggested there were better places to have a Mexican meal, but our hearts were set on El Coyote because it was the location of Sharon and Abigail and Jay’s last meal.

It was a wonderful welcome to L.A. I watched the birthday party at the table next to ours and had the strangest feeling of deja vu, as if I knew this place, this city, as if I’d been there before which, of course, I hadn’t.

Our second day was Tracy's birthday, and the day of the rain. The newscasts about the storm were disconcerting, although the primary mudslide concern was for the burn scarred areas.

The rain was so heavy, we stayed at home and listened to music and ate the snacks from Trader Joe’s.

When it was time to go to dinner, the rain let up, and we made our way to Burbank and The Smokehouse, namesake of George Clooney's production company.

It was old school perfection.

After dinner we drove around the Valley and ended up in front of the Brady Bunch house. As fortune would have it, a cat walked in front of the house and tripped the security light, so we could see it even thought it was dark out.

The next morning there was sunshine and we started our day with coffee at the Canyon Country Store and a peek at the House on Love Street.

We moved on from there to the Hollywood Walk of Fame where I put my hands in Joan Crawford’s.

We checked out the lobby of the Roosevelt, then just drove around for a while, including a pass through the hills of Los Feliz. We stopped in front of Waverly as a girl rode past on her bike and I thought how strange time is, the way it folds back on itself and stretches out.

We went to a park where we could see the Hollywood sign, then on to Griffith Park where we stayed until sunset. We stood by the bust of James Dean and watched the orange golden sun drip across the hills.

That night we heard coyotes in the hills behind the house. Later, they ran across our deck.

The next day, we met up with Eric and his dog Dusty at the Santa Monica Pier. We walked to Venice and up and down the canals.

That night, we had dinner at the Apple Pan, another place that felt like stepping back in time.

As a Beverly Hills 90210 fan, it did not escape my notice that the exterior of the Apple Pan was used in the first season for what would become the Peach Pit. Inside, we sat next to a woman who said she’d lived in the neighborhood her whole life. She recommended the pie.

On Palm Sunday, I went to the Choral Eucharist at All Saints Episcopal in Beverly Hills, while Tracy waited in a cactus garden outside. He struck up a conversation with a woman who was waiting for her family to come out of the Catholic Church across the street.

Afterwards, we met my friend Julie, who I hadn't seen since graduate school, for lunch at The Farm. We strolled Rodeo Drive, then got cupcakes from the Sprinkles ATM.

You may think we couldn't possibly have eaten more food, but we did. We had dinner that night at Canter's Deli, which was the best deli I've ever had in my life - and I used to live in New York.

On our last day, we had lunch at Millie's in Silverlake, then made our way to Olvera Street, where we visited the oldest house in Los Angeles and I drank in all the amazing Guadalupe and Frida imagery. There was a band playing in the square and people dancing.

The next morning, we savored one last sunrise in the hills.

I had tears in my eyes as we said goodbye to the house and closed the door.

My years in NYC taught me - I am not a city dweller. There are many reasons why we can't live in L.A. - the cost of living, the traffic (I could never drive there), the fear of the big earthquake, the distance from our families - but something special happened to us while we were there. 

Maybe it was the golden light.

Maybe it was the Hollywood Hills.

Maybe it was the giant jade plants, or the cactus, or the tall skinny palm trees.

Maybe it was the coyotes singing into the night...but we felt free there.

We felt a sense of belonging.

We felt alive.

There were so many things we wanted to do and see that we didn't have time for on this trip.

So we're already planning our next trip, and we're thinking about how to capture some of that L.A. feeling and bring in to our Kentucky lives.

I couldn't be more grateful to have had this opportunity.

You know, sometimes when you fantasize about something for a long time and build it up in your mind, you're disappointed when it actually happens. I prepared myself for that - I knew that Los Angeles might not feel the way I'd always thought it would feel...but the opposite was true.

I wasn't disappointed in the least.

L.A., particularly Laurel Canyon, felt exactly like I thought it would feel...and then some. 

I love you, California.