I didn't have to look at the weather forecast to know that a storm is on the way; I could feel it with the first step I took outside this morning with my dog.
As I stood on my patio and watched the steam rise off my coffee and swirl up through golden shafts of golden morning sunlight shot through a cloud-filled sky, I remembered a day like this one fifteen or sixteen years ago.
I'd just gotten home from Nice, where I'd lived and worked on a film called Mister Stitch for a few months. It wasn't the most pleasant movie in the world to work on (the other lead actor was an unprofessional nightmare) but the time I spent there working on it remains some of the best time in my life. I'd been acting since I was a child, but it wasn't until I lived in Nice and worked on Mister Stitch that I truly felt like an artist. I was fundamentally changed by the experience, seeing the world – especially entertainment – differently than I ever had before.
The day I got back from location, sometime in mid-January of that year, my friend Dave picked me up from LAX, and we went directly down the road to Manhattan Beach, to wait out the terrible rush hour traffic which stood between the airport and my house. After ten hours on an airplane, another 120 minutes to crawl 40 miles up the freeway wasn't exactly an appealing notion.
We parked in a mostly-empty lot and walked down toward the water. There was a winter storm on its way, driving powerful waves ahead of it that were so huge, they crashed up against the bottom of the pier and occasionally broke over the end of it. Wrapped up in the irrational immortality that's endemic to 22 year-olds, we walked dangerously close to the end of the shuddering pier, angry waves boiling beneath, and dared the Pacific Ocean to reach up and touch us.
I don't recall specifically what we talked about – I'm sure I regaled him with slightly-exaggerated tales of glamor and excess and artistic awakening along the French Riviera – but even now I can I clearly recall the terror and exhilaration I felt whenever foamy, freezing sea water splashed up through the spaces between the planks and soaked into the tops of our shoes.
Since I grew up and became a husband and a father, I've gone out of my way to avoid anything more dangerous than driving on the Los Angeles freeway system, so I can't imagine defying a Pacific winter storm like I did when I was in my early twenties … but standing on my patio in my late thirties, not really defying as much as tolerating the morning chill, I was grateful for the memory.
Sounds awesome.
Memories like this are sometimes bittersweet. For me anyway. I think back to awesome times and with a shock realize that (usually) they were over a decade ago.
I wonder where the time goes…
I miss the view of the ocean in winter. Iron grey, cold, snow on the beach. You described it so well I almost want to put on a coat.
This is great winter reading. Thanks.
Hi there!
That’s just lovely. Isn’t it funny how we change when we grow up?
I’ve emailed you at [email protected] regarding a personal appearance/ speaker honorarium. If that’s not a good address, would you please email me at aichambaye (at) yahoo (dot) com? I don’t want to put my work email out on the internet or it wouldn’t be yahoo.
Best,
Heather
Great post Wil… Makes me miss my immortality. 🙁
I used to live in Redondo Beach, so I know the pier and the kind of waves you’re talking about. I also smiled a little when you said, “I’ve gone out of my way to avoid anything more dangerous than driving on the Los Angeles freeway system” which is like saying you’re avoiding the danger of skydiving by going spelunking without a flashlight. 😉
There’s nothing wrong with the occasional terror and exhilaration in your life. It let’s you know you’re still alive. 🙂
Now, the LA freeway system is a whole ‘nother animal, me thinks. LOL
Stuff like that is why I tell my son to not worry about not knowing what he wants to do with his life at the grand age of 16. I told him:
“Dude, I know a lot of guys who were like that. the ones who worked like dogs all the time. why? so they could make a pile of cash and retire by the time they were 50. What do they do? they travel, and kind of do all the stuff they didn’t do when they were young. You know what?
It’s never the same.
You can be richer than god, but traveling at 40 or 50 is never like traveling in your 20s. you view the world differently. you have different interests, and too much wisdom to do that thing that even though it’s amazingly stupid, is cool.as.hell. Drinking your weight in ouzo and ending up passed out in front of the Louvre with bad existential poetry written all over your body in sharpie is fantastic when you’re 20. when you’re 50, it’s lame.
Don’t be afraid to not know what you’re going to do until you die. Don’t be afraid to try something solely because it seems cool.
Don’t let all the stories of your youth start with “One time at work…”
I may not have as many cool stories as some, but growing up almost on my own in Miami int he 70s and 80s, and being in the Air Force from Reagan to Clinton? there’s no amount of stock money that can give me the stories I have. If you ever read about the day that George H.W. Bush took the military off Nuclear Alert, come talk to me. I was working that day. I was there, on a flightline in N.D. the exact moment the Cold War ended. I saw the B-1Bs I worked on come off nuclear alert for the last time.
There’s no early retirement story that can beat once-in-a-lifetime stuff like that.
Don’t lock yourself into the path that leads to the grave. you’ll get there, all to soon. Wander a bit first.”
I hope he got it. I guess i’ll find out in ten years or so.
Thanks for this beautifully written piece. It’s amazing how kids change us, isn’t it?
At the same time, I wonder if it is irrational immortality or just that driving need to experience things we unconsciously realize we won’t get the chance to when we’re older. I think a life without those earlier memories would be bittersweet at best.
Of course I wouldn’t change my current mortality (with children) for a different kind of adventure.
Best wishes,
Kristen
I guess I really never did grow up then. Up here hanging of the extreme left edge of Canada I take every chance I can get to get as close as possible to the amzing winter storms that roll in off the Pacific. The sheer energy and yes, I guess the sense of risk, make them an experience I hope to never tire of.
Difficult to work with? Ron Jeremy? Seriously?
I know exactly what you mean regarding the end of the Cold War…I was a Security Specialist (81170) at Ramstein AB Germany from 88-92. I was there to see the Wall fall, and for Deutsche Einheit. It was a watershed moment for our generation, and it’s a memory no one can ever take from me.
Ron Jeremy was a prince, and entertained me with many stories that included the phrase, “Oh, yes, I’ve had sex with her … many times.”
Rutger Hauer was an epic prick and almost single-handedly ruined the movie with his ego and unprofessionalism. It’s a miracle that Roger was able to rewrite the third act and save it.
nice post, Wil – when i get older i hope i can look back on my 50’s like i did in my 30’s and hope the memories are as sweet. I’m working on keeping the making every day memorable.
Sometimes, I walk on the beach in the freezing cold, and I revel in the solitude. Living in the only single syllable state in the country has few advantages, but there is that.
And I’ll bet you’ve never been able to enjoy Blade Runner since. That’s so sad.
That must have been quite a change, from the peaceful and rock-covered shores of Nice to the turbulent and stormy shores of the Pacific. I can’t say I’ve ever been on a Southern California beach in the middle of a storm, but this post definitely made me miss the time I spent in the French Riviera. And I hope at 25 I haven’t yet outgrown that “irrational immortality of youth” 🙂
In my youth, I ran from a train. Through a train tunnel. With my two best friends. It was not on a dare or because we weren’t smarter than that. It was just something we thought we could do and wound up *very* close to getting listed in a coroner’s report. It’s a much longer story that I will someday tell my sons… once they’re mortal enough not to try anything so 22ish themselves.
I think of those days, and especially that day, every time I drive past that old train tunnel.
BTW, train horns may sound loud, but to hear one go off in the confines of a tunnel is an experience unto itself!
Rutger Hauer… everytime I hear his name now, I have to think of Gretchen in Malcolm in the Middle, when she unwittingly starred in a porn film, thrilled that she is gonna make it to Hollywood like Roootgah Hauer!
Dunno where the man gets his ego from, cos most films he made are at best mediocre.
Saying that, Mr Stitch remains one of my all time favourites, though… I loved the over the top satire of it… the car race was priceless! Maybe the prickness of Hauer just added to the prickness of his character.
I used to work in a beach cafe, and some stormy winter days, the water would almost come up to our patio. Not that that kept the crazy Brits away… I’ve seen them sitting in a deck chair with umbrellas, defying a deluge.
How I love starting my Saturday morning a cup of coffee and a great WWdN post. [:
Beautiful imagery. I spent a chilly November morning on a Malibu beach a few years ago when the waves were just beginning to pick up. I can still remember how the ice-cold spray felt on my face, the gloom of the sky and the tenacity of the surfers trying to catch a few waves no matter how cold it was. I now live in the middle of the country so the memory is a fond one, thanks for the reminder. 🙂
Very wonderful imagery.
I’ve never seen the ocean in winter, not like that at least, but one of my favourite memories is a winter one. Waking up at 1am and going upstairs for a drink of water (bedroom was in the basement of parent’s place) I look out the double doors of the patio and see a blue landscape. It had snowed recently, so everything was covered in white, and at the moment the moon was full. I sat there for a good ten minutes just enjoying the mystical sense of it.
I live in the Canadian Rockies, about 20mins from a ski hill, so we get teh snow. This year it’s late, but I’m hoping for another one of those fantastical scenes 😀
Thanks again for the wonderful read.
The timing of your post is perfect…we are getting our first snowfall of the season here in Montgomery County, Maryland. It’s not really sticking to the roads, but it is piling up quickly on grass, decks, etc. It’s supposed to get well below freezing tonight, so we should have a beautiful crystal palace made up of frozen trees by 9 PM eastern. Thanks for the awesome post:-)
http://www.livingwithanerd.com
Winter surf is an unknown experience for me. I’ve never lived close enough to the ocean – unless you want to count Lake Michigan as a kid in the Chicago suburbs, and my parents had no interest in the lake.
On an unrelated note, is it too late to plug a “go out and make stuff” project? Because I got so focused on making a little thing for CafePress, I completely forgot about the BIG thing – a film I wrote! But I don’t wanna plug without permission.
Speaking of irrationality, I’m originally from the Pacific Northwest (the “extreme left edge of Canada” as another poster so eloquently put it) but am now living in Florida. Surrounded by water, and I still miss the Pacific.
Howdy Wil!
My name’s Rob Kelly and I’m a professional artist by day, comic book historian by night.
I’m currently putting together a book about comic books and would love the chance to talk to you about it. If there’s any way I could contact you privately, either via email or Facebook, I would greatly appreciate it if you would let me know how to go about it.
Thanks–
rob!
http://www.namtab.com
http://www.aquamanshrine.com
http://heykidscomix.blogspot.com
It is good to have nice memories with friends. It is something no one can ever take away from you. I can only dream to have had a life as colorful as yours.
Sigh…very nice post, sir. Being the same age as you and with kids now (I even named the girls after a ball player, Orel and Hershiser…um, not really. uh. nevermind) I have thoughts of my past recklessness, look back with fondness and shudder. But, I guess we’ll vicariously experience them through our kids, huh? Once again nice post.
I just discovered your site while hanging out on 365tomorrow’s site. You’ve done a great job with this and I’ve bookmarked it for future reading.
What a great entry. If my kids knew half the crazy crap I did before they were born…well, they’d never listen to my word of advice again.
Again, great site.
I figgered it was Hauer from the IMDB website. No surprises there.
Wil, I have a question. Have you considered using Lightning Source for printing rather than Lulu? The cost per book is massively smaller (as Lulu USES LS for their printing) and you are on Ingram’s Books In Print, so that Bookstores and Amazon get your books with great ease.
Lulu is great for “onesy-twosy” but you need to move on up in the world.
I run a little (very little) publishing house called Bewildering Press, and I’d be happy to give you some pointers if you are interested.
–Jerry
I’ve often wondered, looking back on my own youth, how we ever survived to adulthood. I think we’re all granted a tiny portion of the immortality we believe we have when we’re young, and there’s always at least one event borne of our own stupidity that uses up that spark to survive. So maybe our caution as adults comes from the idea that we’ve already played our luck cards and can’t afford to take the risk of, say, daring the Pacific Ocean to sweep us away. 🙂
I know I should’ve died at least three times before I hit 20. Maybe more. But here I am to write about it.
By the way, great piece. Very evocative.
“Ron Jeremy was a prince.”
I think that’s the best sentence I’ve ever heard in my life. 🙂
It’s definitely right up there with “The hammer is my penis.”
You were in a film with Rutger Hauer, Ron Perlman and Ron Jeremy? Woah… This I have to see! Sorry to hear Rutger was such a prick.
“Rutger Hauer was an epic prick and almost single-handedly ruined the movie with his ego and unprofessionalism.”
I’m sensing some ambiguity on this subject. Please, how do you really feel?
I made a not-necessarily conscious decision in my 20s that instead of focusing on things like a career and retirement plans and an expensive car or house payments, I would focus mostly on cheap road trips. Thanks to this decision, I have only enough money to be comfortable (which is to say, I have enough money) and a ton of moments like this one you describe stored in my memory. For instance:
After a night spent sleeping at a northern Arizona rest stop, I watched a silent sunrise alone at the entrance to Meteor Crater.
I climbed the cliffs next to the Portland Head Lighthouse in Maine on a frigid day in beauitiful late-afternoon light as winter waves raged below.
I stood on the Continental Divide at Loveland Pass, Colorado in the middle of a driving rain and watched water begin its journey toward two oceans.
I climbed the mountains at Polychrome Pass in Denali National Park and watched rays of golden light shine through dark clouds over a vast plain where a distant grizzly walked.
I hiked a 40-mile trail in Michigan’s upper peninsula. I’ve walked windblown beaches on stormy days in Georgia, Maine, California. I saw a full moon shine on the tops of clouds from Hawaii’s Mauna Kea. I’ve canoed peaceful rivers in Kentucky. I’ve walked through Chicago neighborhoods in a 3 a.m. blizzard. I stared down a moose from 20 feet along Alaska’s Glenn Highway, saw elk fight a mere hundred feet from me in the meadows of Rocky Mountain National and watched two more elk play in the snow fields near the summit of Longs Peak. I’ve been to every state and a few Canadian provinces, seen every corner of the country, and I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for something so transitory as a healthy 401k. I’ve been very lucky, yes, but I think I made the better bargain.
doing stupid shit isn’t limited to youth. I picked up taekwondo at the advanced age of 42 some years back. our sister school came up from Houston and I spared against Steven Lopez. Steven won Gold medals at the Olympics, he was that good and I was little more than a moving target. he took it easy on me but I still had sore ribs from getting kicked. I did learn from the experience one of which is not to take on someone of Olympic caliber.
It took you getting sore ribs to learn that lesson? 😉
When we are young
Wandering the face of the Earth
Wondering what our dreams might be worth
Learning that we’re only immortal
For a limited time
-RUSH
“Longbeach, Vancouver Island”
The rush of waves whitecap on
a steel day mirror brown sand as
water falls away toward
Japan and she pulls me
closer wind whipping a promise
drops of cold rain give way to
a rainbow of many warmer
tomorrows she and I
forever…
-Me
Sounds like something my wife and I did last year before we moved from New Zealand back to the US. A massive storm blew in to the Auckland area – and we decided to go down to a beach near our house and see how high the storm surge was.
We were not the only people who did so. So that makes me feel better looking back on it 🙂
But there’s something very impressive and humbling when the wind is blowing hard enough that you’re able to lean into it and not fall over and there’s no longer any beach visible because the water’s up so high.
Thanks for the great entry Wil – nice to have other memories sparked 🙂
you calling me an unprofessional nightmare????
why you little punk! I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I’ve watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate. All those moments will be….
ahhh..who am i kidding….
😉
excellent story wil…..and a wonderful memory to share….
I guess I’m in that phase right now. I make my boyfriend nervous when I teeter dangerously close to the edge of cliffs when we go hiking. And I jumped out of the plane this summer.
Guess I’d better make the most of this, haha.
I think writing requires no less bravery, and is certainly a continued case of irrational immortality.
I’d love to hear more about your time in Nice and working on the movie, it sounds really interesting. You have a great way of describing how certain impressions make us think of something that was gone for a long while, so I really like your posts about remembering and memories. They would make a great book!
The traffic in Los Angeles can be grizzly. Thirty lanes of tailights and layers of graffiti on the battered concrete. Yay. The 405, the 101 and the 10 (among others) are nightmares and beyond what any civilized species should have to endure.
And though watching a winter storm crawl in off the Pacific always brings about a certain sense of ominousness, in terms of malevolence there’s nothing quite like a midwest blizzard, where snow-drifts cover the car in an hour, the wind slices like diamonds and subzero wind-chills coat the bones…
You think LA driving is horrendous, but I assure you that driving in New Jersey is goddamn treacherous. And don’t even get me started about Roosevelt Boulevard or the Schuylkill Expressway in Philly. And immortality for me pretty much ended when I was 13 years old and a close friend of mine was raped and murdered by a guy who pretended to be a cop picking her up for a curfew violation. Lieutenant Buzz-kill at your service here. Yeah, needless to say that really sucked. Immortality isn’t something I even fathomed after that.
Well, not to interfere with your whole Mister Smarty Pants thing, but if you go back and read this entry again, I think you'll see in the very first paragraph that I made it clear that we were in fact in Los Angeles, as I had just *returned* from Nice.