Castles
January 10, 2013 § Leave a comment
Every neighborhood should have one: an architectural horror about which neighbors can “tsk-tsk” and onto which they can project their anxiety about their own domain not measuring up.
In our corner of 90039, this house qualifies. It began life as a Spanish revival stucco of modest proportions much like others nearby. More than a decade ago, the building was striped down to the floorboards in preparation for one of those make-overs that Prop 13 has engendered: leave one wall standing and you pay a higher tax rate only on the “added” square footage.
A large sign proclaimed that the work was being done by Higher Power Construction. They got about as far as framing the new structure when the Higher Power plug got pulled. Bankruptcy? A divorce? Quien sabe. But there it sat for a very long time until work resumed in fits and starts by new owners.
At long last, a finished house emerged in gleaming, Greek-island white, lording it over all else by virtue of its position on the highest point in the neighborhood. Throw in a few palm trees, a 3-foot version of Michelangelo’s David, a fountain, a few other gewgaws and –voila! A family’s castle.
I’ve been thinking about why I find this house so annoying that I grind my teeth when I walk by–which I do quite often.
Is it the SoCal sun glaring off its white walls? That silly statue? The hodgepodge of decorative elements? Lack of landscaping? The thick-walled castle effect?
All of it, I suppose. The property lacks harmony and that grates on me. Does this make me an architectural snob? Why, yes, I suppose it does.
Difficult neighbors
January 9, 2013 § Leave a comment
When I was little, our Christmas tree was decorated with an eclectic set of objects, from my teething ring to an angel with silver wings resting on a glittered silver globe. (The latter was referred to as the “Carson, Pierre, Scott angel” because that’s where it was purchased one Chicago Christmas.
One cluster of decorations were simple sweet gum tree seed pods –prickly, brown balls about an inch in diameter–painted silver. They were hung from the Christmas tree with thin, red, satin ribbon.
Eighteen years ago I moved next door to a house with three sweet gum trees in the front yard. Each fall, when the leaves turn red and seed pods scatter across the lawn, they evoke nostalgia for Christmases past that is tempered by the knowledge that those holidays were emotionally more complex than I want to remember.
Empty
January 7, 2013 § 1 Comment
What we have here is a Silverlake de/construction mystery.
Long ago, a gas station sat in this space, the sort that looked as if it had once served Model Ts: one small service bay, one deck for pumps, one tiny office, a little bit of pavement. By the time I arrived in the neighborhood, however, the structure was being used as a repair garage with a few used cars for sale on the side. Then the used cars took over and the place became a sales lot. 
And then the building and lot were emptied out, the structure demolished. The lot stayed vacant, long enough for Delancey Street’s Christmas tree lot to become a seasonal fixture.
Two years ago, the pavement was jack-hammered up, someone erected a chain link fence, and Delancey Street was preempted. The occupant of an adjacent building told me someone had told her a four-story building was to be erected in the space.
A four-story building on that little lot? At an intersection flush with commuter traffic racing to the freeway morning and evening? Where fire trucks from the station across the street plunge into traffic, sirens blaring? A building that would tower over every other edifice in the vicinity? At a corner angled so that drivers can’t see pedestrians in the crosswalk?
It seemed improbable and, in fact, other than a bulldozer leveling the ground many months ago, the lot remains empty.
These de/construction projects have a fairy tale quality: unknown figures make decisions about our neighborhood, unseen forces reshape the landscape. And then, one day, POOF! A new building arises, a new business is established, and we all move on.
Except those of us who remember a tiny former gas station where a mechanic fixed cars and sold a few on the side.
Samwise
January 6, 2013 § Leave a comment
This morning at one of the market stalls, all eyes were on a sweet-faced toddler who trailed after his mother as she moved about selecting carrots and onions and potatoes. As the clerk weighed the woman’s purchases, there ensued a conversation that went something like this:
“What’s his name?”
“Samwise.”
“Samwise? Is that a nickname for Samuel?”
“No. ‘Sam’ means ‘hear’ and Samuel means ‘hear God.’ Samwise means ‘listen to wisdom.’ We thought we’d, you know, broaden it a bit.”
I haven’t decided if the name is clever, cute, or annoyingly hip. But then, I have grand-nieces named Daisy and Clover so whom am I to judge?
N.B. Since posting this, I have been reminded that in 1 Samuel 1:20 (JPS) the name Samuel is said to mean, “I asked the Lord [YHWH] for him.” The transliterated Hebrew connected with the name is sha’ul me’el: “asked of God.”
Viridis
January 5, 2013 § Leave a comment
It’s winter now, our green season. Rains came early this year, washing off months of accumulated dirt and turning hillsides into the luscious colors that elsewhere signal spring. Come summer, the grasses will die and we’ll be back to dusty gold again. For now, however, we live with the thousand vibrant variations of green.
Real in L.A. 