Venice Beach Daze...

Venice Beach Boardwalk, 2013.

Ruth still lived in Venice in those days and Hannah was visiting her old stomping grounds when we took this picture. She was taking a break from what turned into eight years on the road. Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia, South America…returning only occasionally to recharge her batteries. Increasingly, she found that other than her desire to visit with family and friends, she had little reason to come back to the States at all.

Ruth lived in a tiny efficiency on the ground floor of a building that had been going downhill for years, imploding in slow motion on some of the most sought after Real Estate in California. Nothing was up to code in her place. I suspect the landlady never went on record for using the space for rentals. Less than 600 sq. ft., Ruth had a bed, a couch, a bathroom, and a little nook with a refrigerator wedged into a corner. The pluming had a problem keeping stuff down, always sounding like it was choking when forced to swallow.

But the rent was dirt cheap. Ruth’s best friend had turned the place over to Ruth when she moved out, and the landlady was fine with that. Old and eccentric, the owner wasn’t ready yet to sell the building for the millions she was being offered. Until she was, the main thing she wanted was to have tenants who paid on time, didn’t cause trouble, didn’t complain about the room and, like her, were happy to fly under the regulatory radar.

The fact that the landlord loved Ruth helped, so the rent wasn’t increased when she moved in. It was a huge bargain for a room in one of the priciest neighborhoods on the West Coast. Albert Kinney Boulevard was a brief, two-block stroll up the street. That’s now some of the most expensive Real Estate in the country.

Ruth was working for a few of the beautiful people who couldn’t be bothered with making their own reservations, supervising the help, or even dealing with their own children. A great gig in an awesome area, and the ability to save some money, was perfect.

We loved to visit, preferring to share that tiny space, than any luxury condo in the surrounding chrome and glass monsters that dwarfed her building. Carla and I got the bed, Ruth took the couch. Breakfast was often the microwaved leftovers from last night’s dinner or maybe some cold delicacies from the fridge.  Ruth had a bad role model for a dad. Like me, if she was down to her last ten dollars, it was best spent on imported stuffed olives or a nice chunk of Stilton. She appreciates the importance of delicious food over delicious lodging.

When Hannah was visiting at the same time we were, everything got ramped up, like a family on steroids. I’ve always said that spending time with Hannah is like being sealed in a mason jar with a beautiful hornet. We played musical beds, taking turns like an immigrant family of ten living in a one-bedroom place, all running the carry out kitchen downstairs. 

Ruth’s little hovel was perfect for us all then and spawned a million great memories.

Now, four years later, Ruth is married and living in San Diego, while Hannah is with Pablo in Austin. Carla and I are in the same house and have no plans to leave.

We often eat microwaved leftovers from last night’s dinner, and I always keep imported stuffed olives in the fridge.