One week ago I published my first and not the last book.  It is in the past, and yet not.  Instead of checking PM, tweets, facebook, emails and text a few times a day, your voices on the digital wire are a continuum of exultation. A writer doesn’t accept their work until those reviews come in.  An enormous hug and kiss to all of you who have expressed approval.

Just know that every time one of you writes about my book, I think of when we met, the memories we made, and the immortality of what I remember.  As I said on the acknowledgment page  in the book, without you I wouldn’t have walked through the archway to my ancestry.

There is a mystical rainbow over this book. For the first time, my father’s relatives are learning about their abashed cousin, uncle, grandfather, and friend. I feel the river of change taking me into the current. It will be my  ride because I am ready to steer on my own.

THE WINDS OF CHANGE are stirring up both outside and inside. There’s a moment when the decision has to be made; some harmful habit has to be cut.

I wish I was going to Arthur Crowley’s Thanksgiving party with Dad this year. I’ve written about them before; real Hollywood-Beverly Hills elite sealed in sarcasm. Beneath their beautiful brittle bark, hearts were warmed, and humor unleashed. I’m of age now; where I could transform to their rhythm of raucous.

The sky is overcast, metallic gray rolling clouds are gracefully blowing the leaves. Nature has the wellness of change, it’s dark and then it’s light.

I gave Createspace the final approval to print this week. It’s not easy to let go and the fear of rejection fires an extra punch. What to do? Go for a walk and say over and over, I’m just a little bite of life in the greatness of living.  Make your Thanksgiving a day of friendship, not politics, otherwise, the turkey will gobble! 

MOVIE RECOMMENDATIONS IF YOU LIKE OFF=OFF BEAT:

Bread & Tulips, Angel Face, Head in the Clouds, Late Marriage, Water for Elephant’s, Sarah’s Key, Pierrot Le Fou, No Where in Africa, The Lives of Others, Gangster, A Love Story, The Counterfeiters, Senso, Croupier, II Grido, The Wide Blue Road, Deja Vu, The Whistle Blower, The Young Adult, John Rabe.

Our nest is something we build to give us permission to express, unravel, rant, improvise, and dream.  Sometimes we return to our little nest and add a bit more bloom because the dinner was great, and the party lasted longer than we thought, and someone smiled at you in a glorious way, and then you saw a rainbow.

Some things happened last week; that liquefied into an opinion I inhabited. I directed this opinion with outdated information, and second-hand narratives by film scribes. I believed what I’d always believed; actors aren’t like you and me. I was wrong! Some actors are like you and me. They have open hearts, and inquisitive minds, they drink beer and dress without designer labels, they like to hang out, and not talk about the movie business, they have interests beyond their Imdb star rating, and they answer questions if you ask them. Unless we infiltrate what we criticize, we’re adding to the hypocrisy of the human condition.

IT’S UNLIKE ANY OTHER CITY I’VE EXPERIENCED.  Named the city different, it is also the city difficult.  She ( I see Santa Fe in the feminine gender)  has to be treated gently. Her  weather patterns resemble a menopausal woman,her stature demands respect, and she can be congenial and patient.

You can walk this city as if it were a neighborhood. If you do that consistently you’ll meet people, and get to know them. Unless you’re like me, a standoffish fast walker dazed by the outdoors.

If you’re dazed and illusional you can master this city very well, as the drowsy pace and cordiality allow freakish  freedom.  I ‘ve seen the liberating soul of Santa Fe,  teenagers racing down the middle of a commercial street one foot on the skateboard, bad-ass bikers talking with bad-ass cops, women with parrots on their shoulder, dogs in baby carriages, cats in a bag, and women on horseback galloping up Palace Avenue.

At night you’ll see raging midnight ramblers dancing on the sidewalk, and all of this is appealing to an LA transplant.  I have driven in my robe, danced in the street and broken the heels on most of my shoes because of the pot-holes. They are always working on a street, but never the sidewalks. I ‘ve been bounced out of the locals night-howl El Farol for accidently pushing  a dancer, who knew the manager, who came running after me and took down my license plate.

So many of us are loners, the serious kind, that have to be rigged out of our nests.  Luckily I live on a commercial street and have no choice but to be commercially friendly. After nine years, my seasonal behavior is obvious: sprite in summer, blissful in fall, giddy in spring, and withdrawan in winter. I’ve learned patience, understanding, and adopted a mixture of cultural traditions. I’m close to fifty percent certain I’ll miss Santa Fe terribly when I do leave.

Has living in Santa Fe  given me more than I’ve given back?  Yes, it has and that’s why when I’m asked what’s it like living in Santa Fe, I try to reveal the blessings here and not the bullshit.