The Write Stuff

Last Saturday was a newsworthy day. At least it was for me.

It started with a trip to La Canada, a section of northern Los Angeles that has only merited 3-4 trips in the 40 plus years I've lived here. So what brought me to this fancy, if not remote, area of Southern California? 

The better question is: who?

Chris Erskine is an accomplished author and former columnist for the LA Times. He has a wicked sense of humor which would explain why my daughters bought me his book Dadditude for Father's Day in what seems another lifetime ago. It was another lifetime ago because like myself, Chris is a widow and sadly belongs to the Club No One Wants To Be In.

His writing and observations on human foibles is not unlike that of Erma Bombeck, another writing hero. I count myself lucky to be friends with Erma's son, Matt, and his wife Jackie. I recently became friends with Chris on Facebook and decided to join him on his semi-regular hikes. 

I like hiking. Moreover, I like hiking that includes post-hiking drinking. 

I like drinking even more than I like hiking. I think day drinking and semi-retirement go hand in hand.

In any case, it was a great opportunity to meet some of Chris' fans and to clink a glass of reasonably priced beer. Ms. Muse, a native of the foothills for all her life was equally excited to meet Chris. Here we are before the excessive sweating began.

I'm the not-so-pretty one on the left. Ms. Muse is trying to curb my inclination towards self-deprecation. It's clear she still has some work to do in that arena.

But the day and the brushes with LA Times royalty did not end there.

Later that night we hopped on a train and made our way to the South Pasadena (aka Willoughby for you fans of Twilight Zone) for the South Pas Eclectic Music Festival. Unlike similar type of events here on the tony Westside, these shindigs draw a crowd, but not an overwhelming one that necessitates an hour long wait in line just to get a cold brew.

I mentioned I like drinking, right?

That night we met a group of friends for dinner, where I had the pleasure of sitting next to Jim Rainey, another star writer for the LA Times. Fingers crossed that Jim and Chris don't mind me mentioning their names. I'm gonna fly without a net and hope they don't.

Jim regaled us with stories of his recent trip to the Motherland -- still hard to believe that my people come from County Donegal. You can be sure a guy named Siegel is gonna milk that for all its worth. We also chatted a little about writing and was fascinated by his observation that "it must be incredibly hard to write funny." 

"I don't know" I demurred, "you'd have to ask Chris."

The following day, we went to the Ace Hotel in downtown Los Angeles to see David Sedaris, who did not write for LA Times, but knows a little about writing funny. My neck is still hurting from laughing so much.

In short it was a great weekend. I'd like to say it left me inspired, but, and here's comes the self deprecation, it left me with a serious case of Imposter Syndrome.