California Dreaming

What could be more L.A. than the Oscars? So, I went to the show. I was backstage with the rest of the plebian press, but hey, I was at the Oscars. Though I kind of dreaded it ahead of time, I actually had fun. I am a worrier, so before I got there I worried about my dress (the megaphone-using Academy person told us earlier that a "black-tie means a floor-length gown," which mine was not); I worried over parking and the shuttle bus scheduled to take the press the 10 or so blocks to the theater; I worried my computer would not work. But when I arrived, I looked nice with my new short haircut and black dress, parking was a snap and my computer worked. There was a festive, celebratory vibe backstage. Giddy press members all looked their best and munched on sandwiches and cookies. And when the Academy Award winners came back to talk to us, they were high on life and adrenaline. Many of them talked about going for their dreams. And that sounded like a good idea to me.

A Life Apart

My cousin Adrian died this month. I had not seen him in eight years. I flew into Portland, Oregon where he lived -- where much of my family lives -- for the memorial service last week. Adrian, who was only 35, had a heart condition his whole life, so we knew he was a bit more fragile than most, but he never saw it that way. In our family, Adrian was always the one who reached out to keep in touch. He wrote emails, sent cards and made calls to stay connected. He spread the news of births and new jobs and good wishes between a clan of disparate and busy family members. Sadly, it was Adrian who brought us all together again after all these years.