Let me first quickly apologize for my blatant disrespect for capitol letters, and pledge to TRY to do better by them in the future.
Ok. Malibu. Summer after my senior year of high school. Jeff's mother's house. The most beautiful house I have EVER been to. It still is my dream house to this very day. I mean, if I saw it again, I might change my mind - but I don't think so. In my memory, it is exactly the house that I would love to own and live in. And the very best thing about it, was the garden.
Jeff's mother (now that I could actually hear what she was saying), suggested that we have our breakfast outside. So we did.
The minute we stepped outside into the yard, I fell madly and passionately in love. Oh! That yard was so AMAZING! I will tell you right now that I am a Taurus - which means that I am an extremely sensual person. And this backyard was like an attack on all of them.
There was a good sized pool - not huge - but a pretty shape, and big enough to do some decent laps in, and great outdoor eating area, lots of little areas and paths that begged to be explored...but most of all - the GARDENS.
The majority of the yard was taken up by these beautiful, beautiful gardens. They were full of vegetables, herbs, flowers - all bursting out of their raised beds, a cacophony of color and sweet smells. Because of this incredible wealth of flora, the back yard was also filled with butterflies and bees, and the prettiest sounding birds.
As i took it all in - the scents of rosemary and roses, the sounds of the birds and the bees (literally),the clean air kissed ever so slightly with ocean salt, and the warm California sun on my hair - I knew right away - without being told - that this, too, was the creation of Jeff's beautiful mother.
During the next month (I think I stayed there for about a month), I learned that she ran every day, was a brain surgeon, and had written at least one (I did say I would forget details) highly respected book on brain surgery or research or something like that. This woman was a dynamo. She also turned out to be incredibly cool and kind. She was the kind of person who could laugh at herself. Her boys would tease her about the "baby-talk" voice she used when she was talking to the dog. I remember her swatting at them, and laughing. She was also incredibly kind to me when I got the worst case of poison oak I've ever had in my life! I was COVERED....COVERED in itchy bumps - it was horrible. I was quarantined in the guest room for days.
Anyway, a couple of days after I got there, she demonstrated how cool she was by allowing me to move into Jeff's room with him. We WERE out of high school and everything, but still - some parents would not have been ok with it.
I was certain, with this new development, that I was in paradise.
The days were spent doing nothing much - but everything that means a damn to me. I watched Jeff water his mother's garden every day with a t-shirt wrapped around his head, sometimes helping, sometimes getting thrown into the pool by his god-like brother...at dinner every night, Jeff's mom would go into the garden with a basket and some garden shears and cut beautiful things for the evening's salad. At dinner there would be scintillating conversation, and laughter. Usually, Jeff practiced the Sax in the afternoon for about an hour in his dreamy bedroom - it was upstairs, overlooking the garden - and I would lounge around on his bed drinking in the music as if it were a warm, sexy drug.
At night (and in the afternoon sometimes), I had the privilege of sleeping in the same bed with Jeff. We snuggled, kissed, took most of our clothes off....and for some reason always stopped short of making love. It was heaven anyway. And just when I thought that world at his mother's house couldn't get any better - it did.
Jeff's good friend, Steve Fox, came for a visit. I knew him from Interlochen, too - but not well.
Steve was a really cool New York cat. He played the guitar. He played it really, really well. Classical, jazz - I think he could play anything.
With Steve there, there was even more music in the house, the dinner conversations got even better, and the 3 of us (Jeff, Steve and I) had a couple of cool adventures.
One of them involved climbing some pretty sticky mountains. I was NOT wearing good climbing shoes. They may have even been penny-loafers, and about three quarters of the way up the mountain, with rocks and and dirt crumbling from under my feet, and nothing I could see to grab on to - I was stuck. Paralyzed with fear.
I was convinced that someone was going to have to call a helicopter.I couldn't move. Then, Steve Fox climbed back down to me and taught me a valuable lesson.
After minutes wasted on trying to talk some sense into me - he realized the magnitude of my fear, and started singing.
"Come on, sing with me", he coaxed.
I shook my head like a four year old.
"It's ok. Don't think about moving right now. You're ok where you are. Just sing with me. Or at least hum..."
He started to sing again, and I started to look down. It was really, really far down - I was FREAKING.
"No, no,no....don't look down! Look at me. Look right at me", Steve Fox said with some authority in his voice.
I did what he said. He started singing again.
"Sing with me, Jennifer. I don't have the greatest voice here.."
I did what he said. I started singing, and soon enough, I had sung my way to the top of the mountain. When I got to the top - I collapsed in the dirt, laughing and yelping in relief.
On the path on the way down, we saw a beautiful big snake. I was scared of that, too - but they both assured me that it wasn't poisonous. It didn't matter, I had gotten my share of poison that day. That was when I got the horrible, horrible poison oak....ugh! It was sooo frustrating, just when Jeff and I seemed to be about to seal the sex deal - a HUGE delay!
Three years later, Steve Fox flew me over from London to audition for a Broadway musical his family was producing. I was pretty surprised, considering the only time he ever heard me sing was on that mountain.
...to be continued....
Monday, February 8, 2010
Finally Losing IT...(getting there)
the summer after high school turned out to be the strangest time of my life - by far. in fact, it is an entire novel on it's own. so i don't intend to get into it now.
only one little part of it.
after Interlochen, i journeyed to Lockhart, TX, to get to know my biological mother, who had left my brothers and i when i was 4. she'd run away to mexico with a married preacher and never really tried to get in contact with me until my senior year of high school.
without getting into that big, twisted story, suffice it for now to say that shortly after i arrived at the ranch in Lockhart, my 'mother' and her crazy,gun hoarding husband decided it would be a good idea for me to visit Jeff Forrester out in Malibu. so they packed me onto a Greyhound bus with a couple of weird sandwiches, and sent me off. my mother saying things like "You just feel free to stay out there and become a movie star". i was 17 at the time.
i travelled half way across the country with a mixture of excitement and fear. probably more fear than excitement...for a couple of reasons. firstly, i had never met Jeff's family. And who knows what they would be like..Secondly, i had been to LA before. and it was WEIRD.
the previous summer, my boyfriend was Noah Blake. we also met at Interlochen. He was (and is) Robert Blake's son, and they lived in LA.
much to my SHOCK - my grandmother allowed Noah to fly me out to LA to visit him. it turned out to be a horrible visit. Noah quickly ignored me. His father was a kind of creepy, and i ended up hanging out with Noah's sister and Moon Unit Zappa the whole time. they were nice, and i remember having some fun with them in Westwood - but over-all, LA seemed like a huge,ugly,sprawling,grey suburb. it took forever to get anywhere, there didn't seem to be a "city" or downtown section to the mess - and it just didn't seem glamorous or fun at all. i must have been there at the worst time of the year, because the whole city seemed to be bathed in this muddy grey-brown haze. no sharp or vivid colors. everything was muddy and in soft focus. And instead of the hippy-healthy restaurants i was expecting to see, there were gross looking fast food places on every corner. More chili burger joints and donut shops than i had ever seen in one place. i imagined the entire city was full of fat, stupid police men eating donuts and chili burgers. The police men idea obviously came from my limited TV knowledge of their love for donuts, and the fact that there were constant sounds of sirens and police helicopters day and night.
LA was a BIG let down.
So, when i arrived (probably in Santa Monica - i don't think they allow Greyhound busses to come into Malibu) in the middle of the night, exhausted and cramped from trying not to touch or be touched by any of the crazy,stinky fat people on the bus, i didn't know what to expect.
I remember Jeff and someone else picking me up from the fluorescent station and transporting me with utmost delicacy to his mother's house. It felt like i was a fragile patient or something - just getting out of the hospital. Hushed voices, people being calm and soothing. i was ushered into a clean smelling room in a dark house. Everyone else in the house was clearly asleep,so i didn't ask about a shower - just passed out gratefully in a comfortable bed with nice sheets.
Because it had been so late and so dark when i arrived (and i was so tired), i had no concept of where i had landed until the next morning. But as soon as the sun came streaming in, and Jeff poked his face in door to see if i was awake - things started looking up. I was shown to a nice bathroom, where i took one of the best showers of my life (anyone who's been on a Greyhound bus for a couple of days should understand this), and noted that the soap smelled like a spa. Not that I had ever been to a spa, but i imagined that spa soap would smell that way.....turns out i was right about the soap. And there were big cotton towels, and a huge,fluffy robe for me to snuggle into.
Even before I made it out of the bathroom, the cozy smells of bacon and good coffee were making their way through the house. I threw on some clothes, and found my way to the kitchen.
I believe the memory of entering into that kitchen for the first time has embedded itself into my emotional DNA somehow. Although I know I don't remember many of the details, I remember the feelings, and the thoughts that ran ran through my head so clearly. And the first thought I had upon seeing, smelling and feeling that beautiful kitchen was "I'm not in Kansas anymore. And Malibu does NOT appear to be Los Angeles."
What I saw was this : 1. Jeff's mother. A petite, beautiful woman with a perfect tan and short,blonde hair who appeared to have happy sparkles flying out of her head and fingertips as she gracefully and efficiently helped her Latino housekeeper set things out for breakfast. She was definitely a morning person. I think she could have lit up a neighborhood with the electric energy that was already emanating out of her small, toned body at this early hour. This was clearly her world. From the instant I saw her, there was no doubt that she was responsible for this fabulous house, and this sun-lit kitchen. She immediately smiled at me, and her smile was bright and welcoming - it seemed completely comfortable and sincere.
She must have said something like "Good morning", or "How did you sleep?" - but I was in a state of shock. It felt like I was experiencing everything in slow motion with the dialogue volume turned way down, and the sound of the birds outside, and the bacon sizzling turned way up. I felt like I had stumbled into a house that was torn right out of a 'Better House and Gardens' magazine - and the people that went with it. I had been in some beautiful houses before. Some giant mansions in Dallas, even. But nothing like this. This was sort of a California "casual", spanish style house. Not ostentatious or cold in the least, just perfect, cozy style.
2. Next I saw Jeff's brother. He looked exactly like his mother's son. Athletic,smiling,perfect tan,surfer blonde hair....just like a magazine or movie depiction of the perfect, gorgeous California boy. He, too smiled at me immediately. But he seemed to have more going on in that smile of his. He was (understandably), sizing me up ,for one. I could hear the wheels turning in his head , "Now , what has my big brother brought home?"
The other thing I sensed in that first smile was mischief. Kind mischief, but most definitely mischief. I was thoroughly intimidated by both of these perfect looking, confident, tan, god-like people.
3. And then my eye was drawn towards their house keeper. She was not like the house keepers I had seen and known in Texas. She was Hispanic, didn't wear a uniform (believe it or not, the "help" employed by my wealthy Texas family wore uniforms) and seemed to speak perfect English. She, also, was practically buzzing with this great energy, and felt like part of the family.
4. Finally I saw Jeff. Gratefully I saw Jeff. He didn't look like he was cut from the same cloth as these 2 Californian demi-gods. I had the thought that he must look more like his father. He was so pale, with his dark red hair. And his energy was much more...contained. I did recognize that he must have gotten those sparkles that quietly floated out of is eyes from his mother, but overall....he was pretty different from the two of them. And I was grateful for that. I felt like I fit very well with Jeff's quirkiness, and was pretty out of place with the magazine folk.
The moment he caught my eye, Jeff looked right through me. I am sure of it. We had a way of communicating deeply and accurately without speaking. He saw what I was feeling and thinking, but he didn't come over to me or do anything reassuring. He just shot me a huge cheshire-cat grin - that was even more mischievous than his brother's. He seemed to think it was extremely amusing to see me in this world.....there would be no "saving" from Jeff. I needed a cup of coffee - badly! I was NOT a morning person, and I was quickly starting to feel like a slug in the company of Olympic athletes.
Just then, Jeff's step-father strolled in. And there was my save.
I don't remember whether he and Jeff's Mom were actually married, or he was just a live-in boyfriend, but no matter. He seemed a permanent and happy fixture while I was there. I don't remember his name, but he was a fairly handsome English man with a good, English sense of humor, and thank goodness for me - as brilliant as it turned out that he was - a mere mortal, who was also in need of coffee.
As soon as he introduced himself, and procured me a hot cup of excellent coffee, things went back to normal speed and volume again in my brain, and I felt that all would be well. That, indeed, I could manage in this beautiful,unreal, technicolor OZ that was..... Malibu.
only one little part of it.
after Interlochen, i journeyed to Lockhart, TX, to get to know my biological mother, who had left my brothers and i when i was 4. she'd run away to mexico with a married preacher and never really tried to get in contact with me until my senior year of high school.
without getting into that big, twisted story, suffice it for now to say that shortly after i arrived at the ranch in Lockhart, my 'mother' and her crazy,gun hoarding husband decided it would be a good idea for me to visit Jeff Forrester out in Malibu. so they packed me onto a Greyhound bus with a couple of weird sandwiches, and sent me off. my mother saying things like "You just feel free to stay out there and become a movie star". i was 17 at the time.
i travelled half way across the country with a mixture of excitement and fear. probably more fear than excitement...for a couple of reasons. firstly, i had never met Jeff's family. And who knows what they would be like..Secondly, i had been to LA before. and it was WEIRD.
the previous summer, my boyfriend was Noah Blake. we also met at Interlochen. He was (and is) Robert Blake's son, and they lived in LA.
much to my SHOCK - my grandmother allowed Noah to fly me out to LA to visit him. it turned out to be a horrible visit. Noah quickly ignored me. His father was a kind of creepy, and i ended up hanging out with Noah's sister and Moon Unit Zappa the whole time. they were nice, and i remember having some fun with them in Westwood - but over-all, LA seemed like a huge,ugly,sprawling,grey suburb. it took forever to get anywhere, there didn't seem to be a "city" or downtown section to the mess - and it just didn't seem glamorous or fun at all. i must have been there at the worst time of the year, because the whole city seemed to be bathed in this muddy grey-brown haze. no sharp or vivid colors. everything was muddy and in soft focus. And instead of the hippy-healthy restaurants i was expecting to see, there were gross looking fast food places on every corner. More chili burger joints and donut shops than i had ever seen in one place. i imagined the entire city was full of fat, stupid police men eating donuts and chili burgers. The police men idea obviously came from my limited TV knowledge of their love for donuts, and the fact that there were constant sounds of sirens and police helicopters day and night.
LA was a BIG let down.
So, when i arrived (probably in Santa Monica - i don't think they allow Greyhound busses to come into Malibu) in the middle of the night, exhausted and cramped from trying not to touch or be touched by any of the crazy,stinky fat people on the bus, i didn't know what to expect.
I remember Jeff and someone else picking me up from the fluorescent station and transporting me with utmost delicacy to his mother's house. It felt like i was a fragile patient or something - just getting out of the hospital. Hushed voices, people being calm and soothing. i was ushered into a clean smelling room in a dark house. Everyone else in the house was clearly asleep,so i didn't ask about a shower - just passed out gratefully in a comfortable bed with nice sheets.
Because it had been so late and so dark when i arrived (and i was so tired), i had no concept of where i had landed until the next morning. But as soon as the sun came streaming in, and Jeff poked his face in door to see if i was awake - things started looking up. I was shown to a nice bathroom, where i took one of the best showers of my life (anyone who's been on a Greyhound bus for a couple of days should understand this), and noted that the soap smelled like a spa. Not that I had ever been to a spa, but i imagined that spa soap would smell that way.....turns out i was right about the soap. And there were big cotton towels, and a huge,fluffy robe for me to snuggle into.
Even before I made it out of the bathroom, the cozy smells of bacon and good coffee were making their way through the house. I threw on some clothes, and found my way to the kitchen.
I believe the memory of entering into that kitchen for the first time has embedded itself into my emotional DNA somehow. Although I know I don't remember many of the details, I remember the feelings, and the thoughts that ran ran through my head so clearly. And the first thought I had upon seeing, smelling and feeling that beautiful kitchen was "I'm not in Kansas anymore. And Malibu does NOT appear to be Los Angeles."
What I saw was this : 1. Jeff's mother. A petite, beautiful woman with a perfect tan and short,blonde hair who appeared to have happy sparkles flying out of her head and fingertips as she gracefully and efficiently helped her Latino housekeeper set things out for breakfast. She was definitely a morning person. I think she could have lit up a neighborhood with the electric energy that was already emanating out of her small, toned body at this early hour. This was clearly her world. From the instant I saw her, there was no doubt that she was responsible for this fabulous house, and this sun-lit kitchen. She immediately smiled at me, and her smile was bright and welcoming - it seemed completely comfortable and sincere.
She must have said something like "Good morning", or "How did you sleep?" - but I was in a state of shock. It felt like I was experiencing everything in slow motion with the dialogue volume turned way down, and the sound of the birds outside, and the bacon sizzling turned way up. I felt like I had stumbled into a house that was torn right out of a 'Better House and Gardens' magazine - and the people that went with it. I had been in some beautiful houses before. Some giant mansions in Dallas, even. But nothing like this. This was sort of a California "casual", spanish style house. Not ostentatious or cold in the least, just perfect, cozy style.
2. Next I saw Jeff's brother. He looked exactly like his mother's son. Athletic,smiling,perfect tan,surfer blonde hair....just like a magazine or movie depiction of the perfect, gorgeous California boy. He, too smiled at me immediately. But he seemed to have more going on in that smile of his. He was (understandably), sizing me up ,for one. I could hear the wheels turning in his head , "Now , what has my big brother brought home?"
The other thing I sensed in that first smile was mischief. Kind mischief, but most definitely mischief. I was thoroughly intimidated by both of these perfect looking, confident, tan, god-like people.
3. And then my eye was drawn towards their house keeper. She was not like the house keepers I had seen and known in Texas. She was Hispanic, didn't wear a uniform (believe it or not, the "help" employed by my wealthy Texas family wore uniforms) and seemed to speak perfect English. She, also, was practically buzzing with this great energy, and felt like part of the family.
4. Finally I saw Jeff. Gratefully I saw Jeff. He didn't look like he was cut from the same cloth as these 2 Californian demi-gods. I had the thought that he must look more like his father. He was so pale, with his dark red hair. And his energy was much more...contained. I did recognize that he must have gotten those sparkles that quietly floated out of is eyes from his mother, but overall....he was pretty different from the two of them. And I was grateful for that. I felt like I fit very well with Jeff's quirkiness, and was pretty out of place with the magazine folk.
The moment he caught my eye, Jeff looked right through me. I am sure of it. We had a way of communicating deeply and accurately without speaking. He saw what I was feeling and thinking, but he didn't come over to me or do anything reassuring. He just shot me a huge cheshire-cat grin - that was even more mischievous than his brother's. He seemed to think it was extremely amusing to see me in this world.....there would be no "saving" from Jeff. I needed a cup of coffee - badly! I was NOT a morning person, and I was quickly starting to feel like a slug in the company of Olympic athletes.
Just then, Jeff's step-father strolled in. And there was my save.
I don't remember whether he and Jeff's Mom were actually married, or he was just a live-in boyfriend, but no matter. He seemed a permanent and happy fixture while I was there. I don't remember his name, but he was a fairly handsome English man with a good, English sense of humor, and thank goodness for me - as brilliant as it turned out that he was - a mere mortal, who was also in need of coffee.
As soon as he introduced himself, and procured me a hot cup of excellent coffee, things went back to normal speed and volume again in my brain, and I felt that all would be well. That, indeed, I could manage in this beautiful,unreal, technicolor OZ that was..... Malibu.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
