What Becomes of Us

November 9, 2018

Last Friday in Los Angeles I visited three men who were close friends in college 50 years ago. I hadn't seen or talked to them since 1970.

I moved to Toronto from LA in 1970. I was in LA a number of times from then until the early 90s for a variety of reasons.

But I never went to the trouble of reconnecting during those years. That was before email so the trouble was letter writing or finding phone numbers but too much for me. None of us were letter writers.

Margie and I spent last week with some friends in Palm Springs. With the miracle of email and flights in and out of LA I was able to connect and set up the visits over lunch and coffee.

Recovering memories from fifty years ago is hit and miss. One hit was the way Ed Wolkowitz walked. In the late sixties he was always out front, a little bit ahead, getting to destinations first. One miss was sixteen hours in a car with Marc Sniderman driving to Tucson, Arizona from LA. I remember seeing my girlfriend at the University of Arizona. I didn't remember that Marc and I made the long journey together until he reminded me. Another hit was Steve Levy's infectious good humour.

We met at an office, hotel, shopping complex named Century City. Think of Yorkdale with more office towers, a big hotel and the shopping exposed to the elements. While the weather last Friday was typically LA perfect, the mood in the city was subdued. The Malibu fires had sprung up late the previous day. There was a huge cloud of smoke visible in the north west over the mountains and canyons that separate Malibu from LA. Driving in to LA after breakfast Margie and I could see the cloud from 75 miles away. That was a biblical scene.

The schedule had Margie and I at lunch with Ed and Marc with their wives at Javier's, a Mexican restaurant in the far north west corner of Century City. Margie and I arrived way early. We had budgeted four hours to drive to LA from Palm Springs. One thing that LA and Toronto have in common is that driving needs to be planned. People consider optimal routes, schedules and parking before a trip. Gridlock does that. One difference is that LA has more roads, freeways and rapid transit. But it's not enough. The multitude of people and cars is overwhelming.

While we avoided the worst of it Margie and I witnessed the impact the Malibu fire had on traffic. The fire closed the Pacific Coast Highway pushing many cars onto the northbound San Diego Freeway. We saw the tail end of the backup which might have been 50 miles long.

Ed, the fast walker in high school, stayed in character as he grew up. He became the mayor of Culver City a town of 40,000 in the inner suburbs of LA. While not the biggest of cities Culver City is the home of the Sony Pictures studio which provided Ed some show biz perks.

Ed spoke of a successful life as a lawyer in addition to his public service. While he was outwardly happy as lunch proceeded a solitary tragedy emerged. One of his three children, a son, had died in his mid-thirties from an aggressive cancer. It couldn’t become a focus of conversation in a group of six people in a noisy restaurant but it took the atmosphere down a notch. In the microcosm of the meal, as in the big picture of life, the death of a child created a direction that could not be turned around.

Marc in university was a doer. Tall and athletic with a shock of black hair he was a whirlwind of activity back in the day. I remember two things from 1970. He had a very cool car. Commonly known as a Road Runner it was a souped up early generation Dodge Charger. And Marc was a skier. Skiing usually takes a certain commitment and effort. There’s driving. There’s cold weather. There’s a need to stick to it before you get good. And that was Marc.

Now in 2018 Marc remained active in his career as a Hollywood accountant and he was still a doer. He had skied all these years. He cycled. And traveled. He and his wife were the first people I’d ever known who had gone on multiple safari holidays in Africa. They said ‘they liked the big cats’ and they had some intimate pictures, almost selfies, with lions in Kenya.

Marc had paid for his life of activity. Like me he’s had two knee replacements. He’s also had an ankle replacement which I hadn’t heard of before. His hands were gnarled from some type of arthritis. But he still skied, cycled and traveled to Africa. Once a doer. Always a doer.

My third visit was with Steve Levy who was a friend from a different orbit in the late 60s. He was happy but not go lucky. He did his undergrad and law degree at UCLA. I've never been much of a drinker but I do remember crashing one nite at Steve's after a toga party, too drunk to go home. Steve's mother took care of me or at least positioned me so I wouldn't be vomiting on any of her carpets.

Steve's tragedy was that his first wife died early. In her mid fifties. Of cancer. He's remarried.

And he's the same happy guy he was in the sixties. A big smile. A positive outlook. Lots of fun to be with.

So what becomes of us. From my small sample of three I'd say not very much. The three of them had accomplished a bunch, lived good lives and had crosses to bear. But none of them, I'd say, was all too different than when I last was with them fifty years ago.

And on reflection neither am I.

November 16, 2018

January 15, 2019