Oakwood and La Brea.

Have you ever passed by a certain spot and realized that although it has not changed, you have? How many lives have you gone off and lived while it stayed right where it is? Always available for a visit. Seemingly untouched, while you have continued to evolve?

The first time you visited this place, you had no idea where you would be at this very moment. And now you are in that place, living an entirely different life than you were before. Isn’t that somehow magical? The magic of the unknown. Although the world stays constant, in certain ways, we are always evolving, developing and growing. Even when it feels like we aren’t and we may not know what’s next.

What prompts this expulsion of nonsensical questioning and philosophizing? I’ll tell you.

This morning I went to pick up the flyers to advertise the screening of ‘Wrong Guy Right’ that will be happening on November 11th. Although I am feeling very unsure of what the next step is at this point, I have decided to celebrate the completion of the project.

As part of the screening process, I made flyers to advertise the party and hopefully raise money to submit the film to festivals! So, this morning after picking up the silly little pieces of paper, I drove down La Brea (A major street in Hollywood that runs North/South) to drop some of them off to my roommate who was kind enough to hand some out at her restaurant.

As I drove down the street, I passed the intersection of Oakwood and La Brea. A wave of feeling and inspiration hit me. Why you ask? Or may be you don’t ask. Either way, I’ll tell you.

My grandfather and Bayto, (that’s what we used to call them-- note the formality of one name versus the other) used to live at this very intersection. A synagogue sits on the corner and a Honey Baked Ham is it’s closest neighbor. Funny right?

Anyway, as a kid, I used to come to this very location all the way from Colorado to visit my grandparents. My grandfather and I would take walks around the block and observe all the different kinds of people that resided in his eclectic neighborhood. I found Hollywood fascinating.

The most intriguing to me were the male Hasidic Jews. They always passed us on their way to the synagogue on the corner and no matter how many times I smiled at them, they would never smile back. My grandfather was a psychiatrist and taught me one of the most important beauties in life I know: to always ask questions. He was fearless. He would ask anyone anything.

One particular afternoon as we strolled along, I asked why the men would never return my smile. My grandfather couldn’t find the answer off the top of his head, so he politely stopped one of the men, and asked him. I was 10 years old and mortified, but I learned the answer! The three men chatted openly about how a look exchanged between two people of the opposite sex is taken as a sexual pass in their culture, and therefore is deemed inappropriate.

Although this moment was embarrassing at the time and slightly hilarious, I have always looked back on it as a place from which I can draw courage to ask the questions I need to in life.

16 years ago when I stood on that very corner, I wanted to know about a simple cultural nuance. And now I pass that same corner and I wonder a much larger question. What is next?

How strange that one place can remain the same and so much can change. Since that time my grandfather has passed, I have become an adult and experienced more than I ever would have dreamed would occur. If you had asked me in that moment if I would be living in Hollywood, getting ready to have a screening for a short film that I wrote, I would never have believed you. I never could have told you how it all would have transpired either.

This thought gives me hope. It reminds me that the gold in life exists in the moments upon which we look back and everything makes sense just for a second. And it also reminds me that the future happens no matter what. And it will probably unfold in ways beyond our wildest dreams. And it’s only when we pass by someplace that has remained a pillar of strength for us despite all of our change that we realize, it’s OK. It’s all unfolding, just as it should.