Still here - and still a happy Claremonter

 

   Don’t worry.  I’m still here. 

   I haven’t posted for a while – again – but I’m still dealing with this damn pressure sore on my butt.  It is tiny but still there, and I’m still having to lay down, to stay off it, as much as possible.  But I’ve been getting up to go to movies, plays, concerts, Quaker meetings – and also to write a bit.  (This has been challenging and frustrating.  No doubt getting up like this – playing hooky, so to speak – is a big part of why it’s taking so long for the sore to heal, but, as I keep saying to anyone who will hear or read, I need to have a life.)

   I managed to write two columns for the Claremont Courier.  Both happen to be about Claremont and why I love it, and both are below.  The first ran in January, and the second ran on Friday.  Enjoy! 

                   FORGET L.A. WE HAVE CLAREMONT   

   Who needs L.A?  I don’t. 

   At least not anymore. 

   There was a time when I told myself the only reason I would stay in Claremont where I grew up was that it was relatively easy to get to Los Angeles.  There was a time when I would drive to L.A three or four times a month to see terrific and not-so-terrific plays in tiny theaters in Hollywood and wherever else, to see museum exhibitions and eat at favorite spots, to go to the beach and sit.  There was a time – this was before my spinal surgery seven years ago – when I would get on the Metrolink in my wheelchair on my own once a week and take it to Union Station and then, more likely then not, take the Red Line subway and the 320 bus to get to wherever I was going, whether to see a friend in Beverly Hills or to spend a couple hours on the Santa Monica Pier or, if I was feeling really adventurous, cruise down the boardwalk to Venice.

   But not anymore. 

   Don’t get me wrong.  I loved L.A.  Still do – and miss it.  Indeed, I love L.A, ala Randy Newman. 

   But now I can’t take the train, not to mention the subway and bus on my own, and, more significantly, I hate the traffic.  Or, let me clarify, I always hated the traffic, but now I can’t take it.  And I pretty much won’t. Getting out to L.A may not be so bad – it may even be a breeze – but there’s always, always, no matter the day or time of day or evening, traffic coming back, which exhausts me and nearly ruins the day – and I’m not the one driving.

   In the last two years or so, I’ve ventured to the L.A area twice, to have lunch with friends and then attend their wedding.  I’ve been to Pasadena a couple times, but there’s still the return-traffic problem.       

   Besides, I’m finding that I don’t need L.A.  Literally. 

   There’s plenty going on here. 

   On almost every weekend during the school year, there’s at least one concert going on at the colleges.  There are impressive faculty and guest artist recitals and performances by rigorously trained student ensembles, not to mention offerings here and there by student groups.  No, these may not be the Los Angeles Philharmonic or Master Chorale, but, hey, almost all are free (a rarity at colleges, I’ve come to discover).

   There’s also lots of music presented in town, whether it be concerts in the park or in the Village on summer evenings, well-known artists playing at the Folk Music Center and various artists and local bands performing in a variety of venues, from churches to bars, around town. 

   As for theater, we have Ophelia’s Jump, just over the border in Upland.  I say “we,” because this production company is based in Claremont.  Even when it was an orphan outfit looking for a home, performing in whatever venue would take it in, I was saying that Ophelia’s Jump is like seeing a play in L.A without the drive and traffic.  There are also plays and dance performances, including by student group, at the colleges, more often impressive than not, and Claremont High, yes, puts on some pretty good productions. 

   Speaking of artists, there are also lots of exhibits at the colleges and around town.  Add in the numerous talks at the colleges and other events there and around town, not to mention the Laemmle Cinema, and there’s more than enough to do. 

   I don’t know if this is because Claremont and the colleges have changed or if I have changed.  I thought Claremont was pretty boring when I was younger – it wasn’t so lively then – and a teen and young adult may well feel the same today. But Claremont and the colleges are now a pretty good deal – a boon, in fact – for those of us who are older and can’t get around like we used to. 

   So, forget L.A.  Those who can put up with the traffic and the hassle can have it.  The rest of us have plenty to enjoy and love right here in Claremont.   

 

                ANOTHER REASON TO BE PROUD OF CLAREMONT

   I almost lost it. 

   She told about getting a phone call early one morning, knowing it was from her son. It had to be something serious, she knew, because her son doesn’t like getting up early. She said that by the time she reached the phone, a room and a half away, she had planned her grand-daughter’s funeral. 

   It turned out that the grand-daughter wasn’t dead, hadn’t been murdered, but such thinking, such a worry, is typical for this grandmother who lives in Pilgrim Place, because this grand-daughter is transgender and lives in Tennessee.  The southern state, on the other side of the country, literally and otherwise, isn’t known as a friendly state to those who aren’t straight and is one of a growing number with anti-trans laws. The grandmother also told about the grand-daughter having attended very conservative schools, where she was told that such “life styles” were sinful, and about the other set of grandparents who offered to pay for college if she didn’t use her new name. (The grand-daughter didn’t accept, saying, “You can’t buy me.”)

   As a gay man who came out in the 90’s when same-sex relationships were beginning to be accepted and same-sex marriage was about to be a hotly contested issue here in loosey-goosey California, I could relate.  As a severely disabled person used to being stared at, sometimes made fun of and who people constantly make the wrong assumptions about, I could relate.  A bit.  At least enough so that I felt my eyes begin to well up. 

   The grandmother, Elizabeth Moore, was speaking, remarkably enough, at the library one Saturday morning last month. I don’t know if her eyes were welling up, but she was clearly speaking with much emotion, with much concern, if not fear, for her grand-daughter and also no doubt for speaking about it in such a public setting. 

   She was one of three speaking on a panel that morning related to the current On the Same Page selection, This is How It Always Is,  a novel by Laurie Frankel about a large, rambunctious family dealing with the youngest child, aged about 5, suddenly insisting that he is a she.  The other two were a young Claremont couple, one of whom was a man when they had a child and then transitioned to a woman a few years later.  They talked about what this process was like and how their relationship successfully and happily survived.

   All the speakers were compelling and engaging, although hearing a grandmother’s fears for her grand-daughter time zones away was most griping.  But as remarkable as this Saturday morning discussion at the library was, as remarkable as this community read is in this time of proliferating book bans and anti-trans laws and violence, what was most remarkable was the audience. 

   The room was packed, and I could feel it radiating with love and support.  When it came time for the Q&A, people jumped up, all but cheering, eager to ask questions, to get more information.  Even when the questions were salacious, having to do with “what happens in the bedroom,” as one older woman cheerfully put it, they were asked with genuine curiosity, with wanting to understand, with wanting to support and to know how to help.  

    It was easy to see why, as was shared earlier, the trans grand-daughter loves it here in Claremont when she comes to visit twice a year, why she says Pilgrim Place is somewhere where “I can be who I am.”

   As I left that morning, my eyes were again welling up.  Or perhaps it was my heart that was swelling up.  Or both.  I felt elated – flat-out elated.  I was so happy, so proud, to be part of this community where this could happen. 

   I am just as excited to go hear the book’s author, Laurie Frankel, speak at the Hughes Center, 1700 Danbury Road, at 10 on Saturday, March 16. Go Claremont!  Keep on, keep on making me proud!