Tag Archives: gratitude

The (Temporary) Beach Life

Life can be strange sometimes, and for me at least, oftentimes. Case in point: I grew up in a blue-collar household and may have a tiny issue with being around great wealth (that I’ve been working on for several decades now), so of course I have now lived in Malibu not once but twice. This time, just for pure comedy it seems, Jody and I had the opportunity for the past five months to rent a studio apartment on Broad Beach Road, a mile-long road with homes that realtors describe as “some of the most exclusive and expensive in all of Malibu.” Our Mazda vehicles blended in perfectly.

I confess a little online stalking where I learned that our neighbors included celebrities like Valerie Bertinelli, Dustin Hoffman, Ray Romano, Pierce Brosnan, and Mindy Kaling (and from days gone by, De Niro; Spielberg; Ol’ Blue Eyes; Matthau; McQueen; Goldie & Kurt; Devito & Perlman; and Archie Bunker, just to name a few). And then there are the rich people. So, you get it: for the past few months Broad Beach residents included the uber-wealthy, the celebrities, and the Sturgeons. As Sesame Street taught us, one of these things is not like the other. We tried to organize a neighborhood quilting group but had trouble tracking down good email addresses.

What a cool adventure it has been. That’s what I kept telling myself, and it was true. I am so grateful to have had this opportunity, but not in the wow-we-finally-hit-the-jackpot sort of way; instead, it has been a remarkable opportunity to have an actual mailing address in a neighborhood that few have the opportunity to experience. That distinction may not make sense to you, but it does to me.

We are moving into our new campus condominium at Pepperdine today, which was the plan all along, and we are happy to get settled. We are especially happy to have an actual kitchen, not to mention rooms with bona fide doors just in case we need a little privacy from one another from time to time. (Yes, the studio apartment on Broad Beach was a teensy-bit small.) But we are grateful for our life experience down on the beach.

Will we miss it? It’s a good question. One would think we would miss the sound of the waves crashing all night the most, or possibly the breathtaking views, and maybe one of those will turn out to be true, but on one hand I have chalked the entire adventure up as just that, an adventure, so I intend to be thankful for the adventure and not waste time looking in the rearview mirror; but on the other hand, if I was to miss something, I think I know what it would be instead.

One morning, on the beach at sunrise, I took possibly the best picture I will ever take in my life (pictured above, thanks iPhone). Both sunrise and sunset can be spectacular in these parts, especially during what SoCal tries to call winter, but what is more remarkable than the view and the picture it produced is that often, at sunrise, I would walk down to the beach and look to my left and then to my right before coming to the stunning conclusion that I was the only person around. That feeling, my friends, was a gift that I don’t have words to describe.

If I will miss anything, that will be it. But when you get a gift like that, how could you be anything but grateful?  

Be a Tourist Wherever You Are

Be a tourist wherever you are.

Walk around smiling in wonder at your surroundings,
As if for the first time.

Take way too many pictures. Don’t be ashamed.
Be on the lookout for all the beautiful things
you hope never to forget.

Drive slowly, and take in the sights.
You will piss off people who are in a hurry,
but that’s okay. Because you are a tourist,
enamored with your great privilege.

After all, and anyway, we are all just tourists
on this floating bed and breakfast we call
Planet Earth.

Live gratefully.
Today.

Be a tourist wherever you are.

Tragedy

tragedy: a lamentable, dreadful, or fatal event or affair; calamity; disaster.

Painfully, recently, the Pepperdine University campus community has borne witness to tragedy.

Around 8:30pm on Tuesday night, four Pepperdine seniors—Asha, Deslyn, Niamh, and Peyton—were killed when struck by a car on the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. Those four precious students were attending a school-sponsored fraternity-sorority mixer and were standing on the roadside when a high-speed vehicle crashed into multiple parked cars, propelling one to fatally strike the young women. It is a tragedy that is simply beyond words. The driver of the vehicle is twenty-two years old and a Malibu resident, and some in the Pepperdine community know him, too. Words do not exist. An unspeakable tragedy.

This, of course, comes on the heels of the savage terrorist attacks in Israel that has impacted the Pepperdine community as well. Los Angeles has the largest Jewish population outside of the nation of Israel, and that is reflected on campus, including here at the law school where I work. In fact, one of our terrific law professors was in Israel celebrating the holiday with his family when the attacks occurred and ended up teaching a class via Zoom from a hotel rooftop in the war zone. He is back among us now, thankfully, but the pain here is personal and palpable. Add to the mix our students and colleagues with personal and family connections to Palestine. Their pain is most personal as well, along with unique fears and concerns, now feeling a double minority in a terrible, terrible time. Another unspeakable tragedy.

It has been and is a time of great sadness here.

Tragedy. We sit in the audience and watch tearfully as the play ends with both Romeo and Juliet lifeless on the floor of the tomb. As the curtain falls, we’re stunned that Medea gets away with murder—or that Oedipus is heartbroken, blind, and begging—or that Hamlet dies in Horatio’s arms. We sit in the audience and weep for Rose and Jack as the Titanic goes down.

We are all too aware of the concept of tragedies. But when we discover ourselves in close, real-life proximity to those enduring unspeakable pain, we instinctively remember the phrase, there but for the grace of God go I, although there is a gnawing thought that our day will come, too, grace of God notwithstanding

Tragedy.

How does anyone even find the courage to face life in the face of such, well, reality? I am no expert. I only have so many birthdays and personal experiences, but what those have produced so far are the following thoughts, for what they are worth:

  • Be kind. Be kind to others, Be kind to yourself. Life is hard enough, and it is too hard for any of us to add any more unkindness to the world.
  • Be grateful. That there is anything good in life is an act of grace, and there are absolutely things that are good in life, and grace exists. Life is too hard to neglect anything beautiful that occurs along the way.
  • Be intentional. Live well. Make your life count for something. Don’t waste your precious moments. Contribute your verse. Awaken to the penetrating question that Mary Oliver poses of what you will do with your wild and precious life. Life is too hard not to make it count.

This community is in a time of great sadness, so surely not now, currently in the throes of grief, but when individuals are able to get up off the mat, whenever that is, and face life again with tragedy all too evident, I pray that we choose to do justice to the memories of those who have been lost. Life is simply too precious to waste.

Niamh, Peyton, Asha, and Deslyn

An Emma Lazarus Poem in the Heart of Malibu

She was disruptive, to say the least. A woman, scowling, mentally unstable, stalked the parking lot like a cornered tiger, roaring words at full volume toward the universe, at least half-threatening, and seemingly half-afraid. We were celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of the Malibu Community Labor Exchange with a big fiesta, complete with delicious food from Kristy’s, a troupe performing traditional Oaxacan dances in festive costumes, and a highly-energetic mariachi band. But, as I mentioned, she was disruptive, to say the least.

Some tried to help, appropriately, and unsuccessfully. At times, her behavior escalated toward a possible physical confrontation, and several of the workers on hand rose and drew near like tender bouncers, ready to assist. Oscar, a friend and protégé of the legendary Cesar Chavez, who for six days a week for thirty years now—that’s something like nine thousand times—has driven to Malibu from South Central Los Angeles to direct the center and handle situations exactly like this one, stood close, observing, listening, caring. At the conclusion of the dance performance, the teenage dancers shared a special dance involving pineapples, which triggered a barrage of the verbal outbursts, but the young dancers kept their composure and performed flawlessly, while occasionally darting an eye to the woman lurking at stage left. But nothing stopped the beauty of the night; and, in fact, the uncomfortable interruptions seemed somehow to complete a full picture of the three decades of the Labor Exchange in Malibu: humanity, in all its complicated forms.

I loved being there alongside workers and supporters, as always, and at night’s end was talking to Oscar who, speaking of the woman, leaned in to share with that trademark magical twinkle in his eye like he is witnessing special things in the universe: “Do you know what she shared with me when she left? She said, kindly, ‘Oscar, thank you for tonight.’”

As she stalked out into the night, alone, she said, Thank you.

I know there are many ways of making sense of the universe, but I happen to be a follower of Jesus. I have often thought of the Malibu Community Labor Exchange as a modern version of the story that Jesus told about the Rich Man and Lazarus, but at the party on Saturday night, the scene was more like the wild story where a man called Legion because of his many demons screamed and screamed at Jesus in a cemetery—or a later version where a follower named Paul had a similar encounter with a woman in Greece. In those stories, the demons got tossed out. I really wish that I could toss out her demons, too.

In the meantime, I am glad to know that there is a place right here in Malibu that is willing to offer patient hospitality to those battling demons who accept an open invitation to the party.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

By Emma Lazarus, from The New Colossus

Remember Thanksgiving

thanksgiving-crewI confess that I didn’t read the instructions very closely, but I’m pretty sure we can stop being thankful now that the holiday has passed.  I’m not 100% positive on this, but since we are apparently expected to line up at midnight and explode out of the starting blocks like Usain Bolt to beat our fellow citizens to the hottest deals, it seems that the time to appreciate what we already have has now passed and that we need new things for which to give thanks!

As the Black Fridays Matter shoppers launch a frontal assault on economic stagnation today, it is my understanding that one can now accomplish said shopping from the comfort of one’s own home.  Note to self: Remember to be thankful for that next year!  Although racing through a shopping mall plus a little mixed martial arts with your neighbor is undoubtedly a nice way to burn calories from the holiday feast.

I’m kidding.  Mostly, and sort of.  Good ol’ capitalism depends on this annual injection, and most of our pocketbooks could use the good deals offered today both for things we really do need as well as for things we really do share as expressions of love in this season of giving.  But you have to admit—the quick-change artistry from pausing in gratitude to sprinting for acquisition is humorous at least, and if we are honest, we may have a tiny little predisposition for going overboard.

But my thoughts today have less to do with shopping and more to do with memory.  Specifically, I don’t want to forget to be thankful when life hits the accelerator again.

Yesterday was pretty fantastic.  My little family was reunited, and we were honored to host a diverse group of friends for feasting and fun (and football).  We even had multiple international friends with us for their very first American Thanksgiving!  Our time together was a strong reminder of our personal blessings in this wonderful life.

I would like to experience that feeling on more days each year than the fourth Thursday in November, and if I can think crazy thoughts, maybe even every day?  In this frenzied life, I like to think that each and every day has enough space in it to pause and appreciate the good.

The Thanksgiving holiday may just come once each year, but maybe it can make such a strong impression as to lead us to infuse a little thanksgiving in every day.