One Man’s Trash Is Another Woman’s Treasure

Friends who knew me during my Dave Matthews obsession jokingly called me “stalker.”  I’m not a fan of that term as it describes crazy people who actually stalk…at night.  Borrowing a line from one of my favorite movies, “Almost Famous,” I considered myself a “band-aid, there for the music.”  A big deterrent for going full “groupie,” was the fact that I was married. Regardless of labels, one could say I was passionate.

Growing up outside of Philadelphia with a brother into broomball, roller and ice hockey, watching the Flyers win back to back Stanley Cups was enough to make anyone a “phanatic.”  The once  depressed city was ecstatic to celebrate “The Broadstreet Bullies” and although we didn’t attend any parades, we whooped it up wearing our Flyers gear.  I even wore black and orange yarn hair ties in my pigtails.  When I turned 9 years old, the Flyers played in their 3rd consecutive Stanley Cup finals, the City turned 200 and “Rocky” was released.  It was a good time to be in the City of Brotherly Love.  Rocky Balboa posters soon replaced all the Teen and Tiger Beat magazine pull out ones on my bedroom walls.  I collected iron on t-shirts, magazines and newspaper clippings of all things Sly/Rocky.  I even collected Rocky trading cards.  In 1979, after Rocky 2 was released, we moved to Southern California, where I kept up my passion for Rocky, Rambo and collecting Stallone memorabilia.

Settling into the Valley in the early 80’s, another fanaticism began brewing in our home, daytime soap operas.  My stay at home mom had watched the ABC lineup for years.  And when “General Hospital’s” Luke and Laura’s popularity exploded, we were right there.  I mean right there!  I’m not sure when or how my mom found out where “GH” was filmed but once she did we spent many afternoons waiting for the stars of the show to come out the gates of the Sunset Gower Studios.  We got hugs, photos, autographs and even dined alongside them at Alphy’s Restaurant in Gower Gulch, before it turned into a Denny’s in 82.  The time we followed one of our favorite actors was a little stalkerish but it wasn’t at night and we eventually lost him somewhere on the 101 Freeway.

Once we decided to take our “fangirling” to another level, we focused back on my first movie star crush, Sylvester Stallone and his trash.  Again, without the internet, my mother figured out where he lived and when it was trash day.  I’m guessing we had help from a “Stars’ Home Map,”   probably bought somewhere in Hollywood.  We concocted a plan that my mom would take me and my best friend, who were about 16 years old at the time, on a ride to Amalfi Drive in Pacific Palisades to pick his trash.  We left my little brother and the family car at home and took my other brother’s 70’s Buick Skylark as the getaway car.  Looking back maybe we thought the windows would roll down better for easy access to trash cans. I was excited to see what kind of treasures were in the trash barrels but didn’t give much thought to the actual rubbish and how we’d deal with bringing that home to sort through.  And that might be the real reason we borrowed my brother’s car, my mom didn’t want stinky trash bags in our good car.

Driving up the street after dark we thought we should practice swiping someone else’s trash before heading to the big mansion and prize.  So fumbling through our map, we found Bobby Vinton’s house.  On top of one of the trash cans was an old suitcase.  We figured that’d be an easy target until we started to pull it in through the windows and felt it was wet from the sprinklers that had just turned on (I suspect to scare us off).  Getting the moist tossed out luggage on us was enough to send us into hysterics.  “Ewww, get that off my head,” triggered the flood gates.  We were laughing so hard, my friend started peeing her pants.  A brand new pair of “Esprit” capris were now “peed in” pants.  Since they were new for “back to school,” she was anxious to rinse them off and ring them out.  After quite a detour, we composed ourselves at a Sunset gas station and re-focused on our mission, to bring home another man’s trash. 

As a person that declutters constantly it’s crazy after all these years, that I saved almost 40 year old torn invitations, envelopes, receipts and notes with no known value.  However, what I’ve discovered is the true value of these things is they cause us to reminisce about that crazy time.  We’re reminded of all the fun and laughter we’ve shared over the decades.  That night was the first of many “in-action” pees.  Other times included running away from teepeeing someone’s house and laughing so hard you end up peeing “in action.”  Over the long course of our friendship, an underlying and understood goal of most of our conversations is to make each other laugh so hard someone pees.  And that is most definitely the sole purpose of our Mad Lib games. (Yes, we still play!)  I told my mom, who used to play Mad Libs with us as kids, that I’d be sharing this story and without further detail, she remembered and laughed. Having such a memorable, good time is truly the treasure we took home from the “Amalfi host” that night.

Sidenote* Bobby Vinton’s home was previously owned by Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Cary Grant and Barbara Hutton.  It is now currently owned by Steven Spielberg. Estimated value is 31 million dollars.

“When The World is Running Down, You Make The Best of What’s Still Around”

Prior to the lockdown, I’d say my life was fortunate and well rounded, just not that worldly.  I used to work at an office, visit family and friends, go to nice restaurants, attend concerts and enjoy festivals but only traveled domestically.

After about 7 weeks of isolation, I feel my world getting even smaller.  Many of my well-traveled friends talk about the broadened perspectives they’ve gained while traveling to other countries.  It’ll be awhile before I travel the world, but I’d love to learn about different cultures someday. However, at this time no matter how expansive or small people’s views are, I find it hard not to think in a microscopic way.  My focus is on my immediate surroundings including the health and well being of my loved ones, work, home and my neighborhood.  Walks with my mom, deep conversations with my boyfriend, meals with my son, Matthew, and video calls with my friends help me to stay connected and assured of everyone’s status.  My commute to work is a mere 25 foot walk from my bed to the living room, which is conveniently where my gym’s located too.  My house, that used to sometimes feel big and empty when Matthew was at school and work all day, feels kind of small and cozy now.

I feel the same way about my neighborhood.  Simi Valley is not that small of a city with a population of about 126,000.  Yet with my focus on the area closest to my house, it feels like “a small town.”  I like observing the lawns and gardens of the homes nearby.  And I especially love checking out my neighbors cluttered garages fantasizing how fun they’d be to organize.  I wave to people while crisscrossing the streets.  I offer to get my elderly neighbors’ groceries.  I walk to family owned restaurants that offer take out, an old fashioned candy and coffee shop and the independently operated grocery store.  Since my mom is only 3 1/2 miles away, I also enjoy spending time in her neighborhood which offers some inclines for our walks.  She shows me where “the nurse” and “the cop” live.  

Simi Valley is home to a lot of health care workers, first responders as well as educators and veterans.  The community has come together for natural disasters, helped several of its citizens find kidney donors.   And most recently they honored a fallen military hero in a memorial parade where over 1,500 vehicles participated.   When Simi’s neighboring community was suffering from the tragic shooting at Borderline, Simi Valley stood in solidarity with the City of Thousand Oaks.  Ironically, these two cities usually compete in the ranks of “safest cities” in the country.  

I’ve lived in Simi Valley for 26 years and probably never praised it this much.  I guess it was hard to compete with my precious memories of the neighborhoods I lived in “the Valley” in the 80’s and early 90’s.  I remember doing things we don’t have to leave our homes to do now like playing arcade games at the “Castle” or shopping at the “Galleria.”  I look back and laugh about all the toilet paper wasted teepeeing unsuspecting friends’ ranch style homes and yards.  

With all the great memories I have from the Valley, I have to admit that the earliest memories I have of Lansdowne, my first neighborhood in the 70’s, were the sweetest.  Lansdowne is a suburb of Philadelphia in Delaware County. (Think Tina Fey and Bradley Cooper).  My elementary school, was a picturesque big, brick building.  I walked there by way of the “crick” behind my house.  I stepped over big tree logs and was intrigued by the teenagers who smoked cigarettes and played cool pocketknife games. The town held a 4th of July Parade and the fireworks show was at the local high school, where we sat close enough to feel the rain of the fireworks.  And even though I cried the whole time, being comforted in my father’s arms while bombs exploded over our heads, is one the most tender memories I have with my dad.  That safe and secure feeling growing up was only because I was unaware of the racism, corruption and crime that was going on just down the Pike and highway in a depressed city.  Philly didn’t even have any good sports team until the Broad Street Bullies won their back to back Stanley Cups.  I remember the great celebrations and pride everyone had throughout the city and the surrounding area when the Flyers were champions.   

So even in the middle of Watergate, the on-going Cold War, an oil and energy crisis, my family’s focus was on their small world, the care and well being of loved ones, work, home and neighborhood.  My dad, uncles and grandfather built our neighbors’ houses and a great stone wall for the church.  We supported local businesses like the corner store, pizza parlor and bakery.  We played with our neighbors, watched out for each other, hired one another and  cooked meals for each other.  We loved our neighbors as we loved ourselves.  I have faith through this crisis, we all can do the same no matter how big or small our communities are.