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The
Maplewoods Mirror #33 - January 2009
Welcome to my monthly newsletter on life and
writing. If you want to see my website for past issues and other
news, please visit www.chrismeeks.com. I also have an author site (click
here)
To see a three-minute video about my newly
published book, click here.
In This Issue
COMFORT FOOD
Enough of serious musings! Do we want
good writing or good food? After all, it’s still the holiday season,
and agents, publishers, publicists, even printers are on vacation. And what
are they doing? Eating.
It’s clear to me, as I’ve made it
through the second diet of my life, that when you don’t get what you
want, there’s always food. Because I’m not an expert on diet beyond
supply and demand (less supply as your body demands more), I created my own
method. I simply wrote down every single thing I ate each day on a 4x6
card, and counted calories. I figure if the average body uses 2500 calories
a day (I heard somewhere), then I’d eat 1500 calories a day. It worked.
Enough of diets, though. Let me revel in the eating part!
One of the fun things about eating out, I was
reminded recently, is that we all have our secret great spot: the dive
restaurant with unusually good food.
“Dive” should have quotes around it because
it’s really about a not-fancy place that’s clean with great food--good
portions at a fabulous price. My favorite spot in Los Angeles that matches
this is Versailles restaurant for Cuban food. Its Cuban roast chicken has
me so hooked with its tart citrus garlic mojo sauce, the fried plantain as
sweet as the mountains of Jamaica, and rice with beans as black as the sky,
that we’ll drive the fifteen miles to get to the closest one of five
locations, the original restaurant at 10319 Venice Blvd.
In the last place we lived, my wife and I had a
closer dive called Thai Fantasy, which is just south of South Pasadena in
an oddly named section of L.A. called Hermon. I’ve never heard anyone say,
“I’ll meet you in Hermon,” or even “I live in Hermon,” but there’s a new
sign up proclaiming Hermon.
Thai Fantasy (5900 Monterey Road) basically has
average food with a few great dishes and smiling waitresses offering
extraordinary service. And it’s inexpensive, which makes it better than
average. Two of us eating there comes to just over $20 with a tip, and we
have food for two meals the next day.
One of our favorite things there: Tom Yum Gai
soup, which has coconut milk, lemon grass and shrimp that comes in a heated
tureen. Sipping it, I feel transported to a wide white beach under palms
and near a banana grove, looking at volcanic formations in the bay. Of
course, the posters in Thai Fantasy help me along. Also great is the house
fried rice and the garlic chicken--and tell them heavy on the garlic.
When we want really great Thai food, we’ll go
to another pod mall another mile away: Patakan in South Pasadena (711 Fair
Oaks Ave), where its shrimp in a blanket appetizer is a sight for the eyes
and tongue. Everything there is exceptional including its Pad Thai and Red
Curry.
We live two miles from Thai Fantasy now, so we
marauded down Colorado Boulevard in Eagle Rock the other night in search of
a new favorite dive. One place looked like it offered wonderful big
fat hamburgers, but it didn’t take credit cards, so we moved down the
street.
We came upon the Oinkster (2005 Colorado
Blvd.) That name alone is just perfect for the perfect dive, no? Its
specialty is the pastrami sandwich, but having found the perfect pastrami
sandwich at Langer’s Deli (704 S. Alvarado St. by MacArthur Park), I went
for the pulled pork sandwich that comes with caramelized onions, red
cabbage, and Carolina barbecue sauce on a French roll. Yeow! No wonder why
the place is packed.
We zoomed back a few days later when I went for
something my doctor might prefer: rotisserie chicken full of spices.
Nonetheless, the sharp taste of the Carolina barbecue sauce from the pulled
pork still beckons.
Before we rush back, I’m reminded of the month
spent dieting and all the 4x6 cards. I’m not eager to do that again. Still,
we all need a little food comfort now and then, don’t we? What’s your
favorite dive?
RAY BRADBURY, SPEAKING OF DINNER
In the fall semester, I taught the survey class
in USC’s Master of Professional Writing program with professors Aram
Saroyan, Sid Stebel, and Lee Wochner. We generally met first in a lecture
hall where one of us would lecture on fiction, nonfiction, playwriting,
screenwriting, and poetry, and then we’d break into smaller groups for
discussions. It’s a great way to examine the different genres that
the program offers.
Professor Stebel happens to be longtime friends
with Ray Bradbury,
so Sid arranged a special dinner with his group of students, Lee, and I in
Chinatown. Best known for his short story collections The
Illustrated Man and The Martian Chronicles and the novels Fahrenheit
451 and Dandelion Wine, Mr. Bradbury spoke to us of his many
years of writing.
USC Master of Professional Writing student
Marlene Leach and author Ray Bradbury
He’s published over 400 stories, 11 novels, 42
collections of stories, more than 20 screenplays and teleplays, 12 books of
essays and nonfiction, 19 books of poetry, and many other miscellaneous
books. He’s also adapted many of his stories into plays, with Fahrenheit
451 about to open at the Fremont Theatre in South Pasadena. He
represents well the modern writer, adept at many of the genres—in fact, all
the genres of the MPW Program.
At 88, Mr. Bradbury doesn’t hear as well as he
used to, nor is he as quick-witted as when I met him receiving an honorary
degree at CalArts several years ago, but he’s still enthusiastic about
writing. He now dictates to his daughter who lives in Arizona.
WE’RE ALL RENTERS
Earlier this month I flew to Minnesota, where I
visited my mother, Sidney, in her assisted-living home. Outside, at eight
below zero with a wind, water could become a Popsicle in minutes. When
darkness settled in, it became even colder.
Wayzata, Minnesota, at eight below zero with a
wind
My mother originally intended to stay
in assisted living just to get back on her feet after her
open-heart surgery. Because her anxiety never left, and her breathing
worsened, she’s stayed there. The cost has meant she’s had to put her
house on the market. While there, I oversaw her sign forms with a real
estate agent.
The real estate agent later went to the house
and told me and my three siblings what things we needed to do to prepare
the place for sale. Mainly we had to “declutter,” such as thinning out the
bookshelves and moving some of the art from the walls.
Our mother encouraged us to divide everything
of value in the house now, and if we had questions, we could consult
her. None of us had imagined doing this while she was alive, but this
was a practical matter. Two of us have to fly from California, so if we
were going to box things up now, we could put them in boxes intended for
their recipients.
My mother’s been an organized person, so she
had a three-ring binder with photos and descriptions of things she’s
valued, and we simply went through each page, asking who had interest in
what items and the level of the interest. My sister-in-law created a
spreadsheet that kept track of who wanted what. In the few things where
there was multiple high interest, such as a particular piece of art, we’d
barter with other things already decided upon. With things where no one had
interest, such as shelf upon shelf of mass-market paperbacks, we’d sell or
donate later.
It was surprisingly simple and civil—no
arguments whatsoever. That’s mainly because none of us wanted to be doing
it. These things simply had less value compared to our mother’s health and
quality of life, which seems to be dwindling slowly by the month. It struck
me that all the things we buy or collect are just temporary. We’re all
renters.
This made me think, too, of the things I value,
such as my photo albums, the bound book of theatre reviews for Daily
Variety that I wrote in the nineties, certain pieces of art, my
published and unpublished stories, my desk I love writing at, and
more. Will my son or stepdaughter like any of these things? Does it
really matter in the end?
My mother’s possessions have had a lot of
meaning to her and us, however. The little crystal glass animals that
she’s collected over the years have been part of her personality. She’s
also loved collecting stamps as well as the etchings drawn by a distant
relative. My brothers and I had grown up with the drawings, seeing them
daily.
None of these things did she want where she was
now living—no photos, no art, no particular books except new ones, and no
mementos. She’s living a monk’s life. Maybe that’s part of her own
preparation.
While I was there, Minneapolis stood below zero
for most of the time. Walking outside was an effort. Eight below zero with
a breeze feels like needles in the face. As I lay in bed at night in her
house, I had strange thoughts: that the only thing between me and a quick
frozen death were a few millimeters of glass. One hundred and eighteen
degrees in Palm Springs this summer was hot—the kind of heat where one
could expire quickly if lost without water, but exposure to the cold as
it’s been in Minnesota lately might be faster. I didn’t want to die. I
could hear the distant furnace kick on, saving me.
WATER FOR ELEPHANTS AND PHOTOS IN FICTION
Deephaven, Minnesota
When I flew back from Minnesota last week, I
started reading Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen on the
airplane. The book is fabulous, about a 93-year-old veterinarian
having a hard time in assisted living and remembering his days in the
circus during the depression--particularly an event that shaped his
life. What's fascinated me, too, is that there are B&W photos of
circus events from the depression at the start of some chapters. It
makes it seem as if it happened. I'd never seen photos with fiction before,
and I’m enchanted with the idea.
Hi Jolly gravesite, Quartzsite, Arizona
My upcoming novel, The
Brightest Moon of the Century, is finished, a press release is out,
and advance copies of the book will soon be shipped to reviewers. Yet it
occurs to me that I have photos that could accompany some of my chapters
the way Sara Gruen has used a handful of photos. My novel is a story
about Edward, a young Minnesotan, blessed with an abundance of
“experience”—first when his mother dies and next when his father, an
encyclopedia salesman, shoehorns Edward into a private boys school where
he’s tortured and groomed.
Edward needs a place in the universe, but he
also wants an understanding of women. He stumbles into romance in high
school, careens through dorm life in college, whirls into a tornado of love
problems as a mini-mart owner in a trailer park in Alabama, and aims for a
film career in Los Angeles. I have photos with and without people
that might add to the book.
That is, it’s not to late to add six photos to
the final book. One of them is above, which is of the Hi Jolly gravesite in
Quartzsite, Arizona. My character visits the site at two points.
A trailer park is a setting in my book. I shot
this in 1979.
People who don't read fiction (usually men)
have told me they don't like fiction because it's made up. Gruen’s
photos suggest it isn't made up but real. Great fiction to me is as real as
anything, and certainly more real than any autobiography where truths are shaped
to shade the subject positively, and other events are left out altogether.
Do you have a reaction to photos in fiction?
ON THE SET OF NCIS
I like TV. I just don’t have much chance to
watch it. Now that we have a DVR, however, I have it set to record 60
Minutes, Dexter, Californication, Weeds, and my big guilty pleasure, Entourage.
Episodes, however, are piling up like pancakes at a fire station breakfast.
As much as I like these shows, my family
members Annie and Laura love NCIS, which is a character-filled show
that revolves around criminal investigations in the Navy. It stars Mark
Harmon and features David McCallum as a chief medical examiner.
It occurred to me my friend Dan Fesman is a
writer and producer on the show, and I had a standing invitation to come to
the set. I called Dan and arranged it. NCIS is filmed at the
Valencia Studios, near CalArts where I teach Story for Animators.
When Dan met us at the gate and escorted us
inside, Annie and Laura gasped in seeing various characters’ offices, the
autopsy room, the lab, hallways and more. They took pictures of each other
in spots the characters used, and I delighted in seeing such enthusiasm. On
some of the swing sets that the production built for special episodes,
which were still standing to be recycled for future shows, Annie and Laura
could recite which episodes used them.
Dan Fesman with Annie
Dan was more than happy to answer their many
questions, and he eagerly introduced us to cast members. Mark Harmon,
Michael Weatherly, Sean Murray, and Cote de Pablo, chatted with us at
length as they waited for their next shots.
A television production moves faster than most
movie productions because there’s little need to tear down and set up. We
watched a few scenes being shot, and the director and script supervisor
watched each scene on monitors just outside the set, and the director kept
up a fast pace. Some shots were done in just one take. The energy was
exciting.
Actors Michael Weatherly and Sean Murray with a
crew member
I met Dan, a graduate of Brown University, when
he worked in the library at CalArts, and his then-girlfriend Liz (now wife)
taught in the CalArts dance school. Dan wanted to get into television. He
wrote a few sample television sitcom scripts, gave them to an agent who
liked his work, and before long, he had his first job as a writer, writing
an episode of DiResta, then King of Queens.
He later became a writer/producer on such TV
series as Dead Like Me, LAX, The Book of Daniel, and Eureka.
He and Mark Harmon each said NCIS is special because the people on
the show enjoy what they do and don’t create unneeded stress.
Actors Cote de Pablo and Mark Harmon
What did I take away from this? First, because
I, too, create stories, I was reminded how important stories can be to
people, both as a way to unwind and as a way to grasp small truths about
living. I happen to like character-driven stories, which NCIS focuses
on. The who-dun-it aspect is less important than the interaction and humor
the characters have with each other.
Dan Fesman
I also reveled in how Annie, Laura, Dan, Mark
Harmon, and almost everyone I met on the cast and crew love what they do.
We’re all following our bliss. That phrase comes from mythologist Joseph
Campbell, whose book The Power of Myth, I happened to reread and use
in class this semester. Campbell says, “If you follow your bliss, you put
yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for
you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living.
Wherever you are, if you are following your bliss, you are enjoying that
refreshment, that life within you, all the time.”
That’s harder to do in this economy these days,
but Obama has been following his bliss, too, and we may be all the better
for it.
THE ORIGINAL MAPLEWOODS
MIRROR
While I was cleaning out a closet in my
mother’s house, I came across a copy of the original Maplewoods Mirror. My
uncle, Jerry Young, now a retired surgeon, had made a neighborhood
newspaper of that title when he was a kid, and when my grandmother, Ma, saw
he was serious, she bought him a mimeograph machine. My grandfather, Pa,
when he became mayor of the new village, even wrote for the Maplewoods
Mirror, which is what starts on the front page of the found issue,
below. When I needed a title for my newsletter, I revived the Maplewoods
Mirror.
Page One of the Maplewoods Mirror, June
1949
I wrote to my uncle about my find, and he wrote
back the following: “I was in seventh grade. My spelling was
atrocious. Ma told me later that the Maplewoods Mirror was
read aloud at neighborhood cocktail parties to peels of laughter at the spelling
and sentence structure. I continued monthly publication for about a
year and a half. We had special issues printed on orange paper for
Halloween, and at Christmas we printed with green and red ink.
“In the summer, we sponsored the Maplewoods
Mirror Dog Show. In fact, there were two dog shows. The
first was chaos, due to dogfights, which Pa broke up. The second one
was much better. We had at least thirty dogs show up. It was
held at the Warners, across the swamp. They had a horse ring in their
back yard. Dogs were divided into two groups, big dogs and little
dogs, and were judged according to two classes, obedience and
grooming. Pa was prepared with a garden hose to control the
dogfights. We had ribbons for first, second, and third place, and a
trophy for the grand champion.
“The show was a great success. Dear Ma
got her good friend, Ted Bennett, to judge the show. He bred dogs for
a hobby and had some experience. His family practically owned the
entire Mesabi Iron Range. Years later, when I applied to Yale, Ted
Bennett wrote me a recommendation, which I'm sure helped my application.”
So this newsletter comes from awesome
beginnings.
UPCOMING EVENTS
-- Starting January 13, I’m teaching a
six-week UCLA Extension workshop, The Essential Beginnings. It
provides many fundamental techniques--from journal writing to imaginative
in-class exercises--all geared to motivate and cultivate the beginning
creative writer. Topics include writing from observation and experience,
creating dynamic characters, developing points of view, and writing
dialogue. Tuesday evenings, January 13 - February 17, 7 – 10 p.m. at the
new UCLA Extension Building in downtown Los Angeles at 261 S. Figueroa St.
For registration and general information, call (310) 825-9971 or (818)
784-7006. $290.
-- Tuesday, March 7, 7 p.m., I’ll be
reading from my new novel, The
Brightest Moon of the Century, at Vroman’s Bookstore.
That’s publication day, and following my short reading, there
will be a publication party there.
-- Opening Wednesday, March 12 at the
Pico Playhouse in West Los Angeles, my play Who Lives? begins
a three-week run.
-- Saturday, March 21 – I will be
reading from my new novel at The Bookcase in Wayzata, Minnesota,
7:30 p.m. 607 Lake St E, Wayzata, MN 55391; (952) 473-8341.
The Bookcase in Wayzata, Minnesota -- I'm there
March 21 at 7:30 p.m.
-- Sunday, March 22 – I’m reading at the
Kingman Art Studio and Gallery, 6:30 p.m. 1901 Grand St. NE,
Minneapolis, MN 55418; (612) 306-4597.
Happy New Year to you!
Los Angeles has snow, too.
It snowed in the San Gabriel Mountains on Christmas Day.
See you next time,
--Chris
For reviews or more
information on my books below, click on the cover. Who Lives? will
be mounted in a new production in Los Angeles starting March 12,
2009.
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