On Monday, I posted a wonderful and utterly unexpected video of a cow joyously playing game of fetch, racing after a ball and kicking it back to its human. (If you missed it, you can check it out here.) 
 
The video was all the more funny to me, since it was related to a story of why I was so especially amazed seeing a cow run so fast, since my observation had always been that they just slowly lope along.  And that was brought home so vividly when I was driving along the Maine countryside.  This was in 1988, when I was working on the Stephen King movie Pet Sematary during my dark days doing unit publicity.  I had a day off, and when tooling through the countryside, I saw a group of cows off in the distance of a very large, open field.  I stopped the car, and got out to look at them.  (Which by itself is probably an odd thing for most people to do, I would imagine.  “Hey, let’s stop the car and look at cows!!” is not a phrase too-often heard, I wouldn't think.)
 
Anyway, as I stood looking at these cows, I noticed that one began very slooooowly meandering towards me.  And then another.  And another.  And then one-by-one, almost all of them.  It was a very big field, so it took a long time, maybe three or four minutes for them so ploddingly made their way over.  And once they all got there – they simply stopped at the fence and starred at me.  And stayed there starring.
 
It was hilarious and adorable.  But it also drove home a couple points for me – how social and curious cows were, which I’d never had a sense of.  Social and curious enough to want to see that human person over there a couple hundred yards away.  And social enough for all of them to want to do it together.
 
But it’s that memory of how slooooooowly they all lugged their way over which stood out and made the video of that one cow running around playing “fetch” so hilarious and wonderful to me.
 
And as semi-proof of it all, when the cows all stood by the fence looking at me, I took a picture -- and here it is!  You can see in the background where some other cows are how far then came.  And you can even see a few more cows still making their way over.
​

Several years back, I wrote here about a wonderful, though lesser-known musical called Snoopy!!!, which was a sort-of sequel to You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.  It was written by a different team of songwriters, Larry Grossman and Hal Hackady, and began life in a 1975 production in San Francisco, which is where the original cast recording is from.

The show has a terrific, charming and often very funny score and even had a big, popular song to come from it -- which had a very difficult mandate: as the final song in the show, it had to equal the beloved closing song from You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, which was "Happiness".  And impressively, they did just that with a great song, "Just One Person."  Oddly, because it was one of Jim Henson's favorite songs, The Muppets performed it a great deal, and it's now largely believed by people to be a Muppets song -- indeed, the Muppet performers movingly sang it at Henson's memorial, which I posted here -- but it's not, it's from Snoopy!!!  (The article linked in the first paragraph above embeds the song from the cast album.)

I mention all this for a bizarre reason.

Yesterday, I was being shown around to an open house by my wonderful realtor and all-around lovely person, Carla Winnie.  For some reason afterwards (oh, I remember, we had been discussing the new Reprise! series in Los Angeles that just opened a new show we'd both seen), we began talking about musicals.  And after a while, mentioned that she didn't know I liked musicals so much -- clearly she doesn't read this site... -- and then noted she did, as well, and had even been a performer earlier in her life, and done some stage shows.  I had no idea.  And all the better, it turns out that one of those shows was...Snoopy!!! -- in that original San Francisco production, 43 years ago!  She was performing under her maiden name then, Carla Manning.  And not just was she in the show, but you can hear her on on the cast album where she sang the role of 'Lucy'!

Several years ago, when I transferred most of my LPs to CDs, I made covers for the CDs and tried to duplicate the LP cover art as much as possible.  So I checked through my files, and – 

She sang in the group numbers, of course, and though there is no solo number for 'Lucy' in the show, she does sing in a trio for a very funny song, "I Know Now."  And here that is -- she's the first voice, singing the line, "I know know, you can’t trust a daisy. / They blab every chance they get!"

The other two performers are Roxann Pyle as 'Sally' and Pamela Myers (who went on to have a Broadway career) who comes in third as 'Peppermint Patty.'  I was able to pick out Carla throughout the song, too, since she has the most "straightforward" voice -- 'Sally' coming across as a little girl, and Pamela Myers having a distinctive, high-pitch.

​I have no doubt that Carla was a wonderful performer.  In fact, she toured in quite a few shows.  And one additional thing for certain is that today she's also quite a wonderful realtor...

That's one thing that...well, I know now.

Next month I'll be going to Chicago, and will be taking the train there from Los Angeles.  This is the second time  I've made the trip.  The first time was about 15 years after grad school, which I wrote about here.  I got a coach seat then, and it was a wonderful trip on general principal, but all the better since around Albuquerque an absolutely beautiful German girl got on and had the seat next to me, all the way to Chicago. And it turned out she was working as an au pair in San Diego.  (I tell the tale in the article, and yes, we actually did end up going on a date, though alas it didn't get any farther than that.)  This time -- in part because I don't expect lightning to strike twice, but mainly because I don't want to sit in a coach seat for two days gain -- I got ticket for a roomette.  It's definitely more expensive, but I look at it like it's part of a vacation, not just transportation.

For no particular reason, I'm thinking of calling this the Honorary Chris Dunn Half-Country Tour, though I'll probably settle for something significantly less divisive -- like maybe the I Hate Trump Train Ride Across America.  But perhaps it will just simply be Train Fest 2018:  Back on the Rails Again, This Time Though in Total Comfort.

(By the way, the coach seats are quite comfortable, and they stretch out extensively with footrests. Besides which you can move around to the club car, dining car and -- best of all -- the observation car, which I especially loved going to at night, when they darken the car as you head through the Western plains.  But for two days, 40 hours actually, "quite comfortable" has its limits.  Especially if you don't have a beautiful German girl sitting next to you who actually seems to like you.  I'm a guy -- I'd have happily stayed in a coach seat all the way to the East Coast under those conditions...)

This here, though, isn't about the train trip but the Amtrak reservation system.  As I said, the trip years before was wonderful, even going coach, and I expect it to be the same next month, all the more so traveling in a roomette.  But as wonderful as the trip should be, Amtrak reservations is utterly screwed up.

And therein lies the tale.

My ticket is $520 one way.  Which is fine.  As I said, I look at this as part of the vacation, and you get a room for two nights and three meals included.  So, $520 is absolutely OK By Me.  But here's the thing:  if I had decided to leave the very next day – a Wednesday, not a weekend, mind you, just the middle of the week -- the cost would $1,100!!!!.  One way.  And if I left the day before, on a Monday, it would have been $700.  Expense aside -- and that's admittedly a lot to put aside -- it's the overwhelming inconsistency that's at issue, and the whole schedule is screwy like that.  (Actually, it’s even worse if I had wanted to leave a month earlier.  Not just more expensive, but with wider price swings.)  That’s why it was so hard to figure out a good schedule when to make my trip.  I don’t mind paying $520 – but to pay SO much more the day before or after??  No way.  Especially when flying that same day is about $130 each way.  So, to pay $1,100???
 
But here's the thing -- it’s even more odd than that. 

I could have made the reservation online, but the problem is that you can’t specify upper roomette or lower level when booking that way – which is utterly nuts.  You have to call.  (And worse, they don't even tell you that on the website, about being able to pick a particular roomette if you phone them, but I did a lot of online searching for information beforehand, which is how I discovered that.)  And selecting which roomette is pretty valuable -- not just for getting upper level or lower level, but whether you're close to the stairs, or bathrooms and showers which might be convenient, but have more foot traffic, or near the back where the car is coupled which might be a little noisier.  It just seems a pretty good idea to be able to pick your roomette

So...okay, I called to make the reservation.  And specify the location, I said upper level.  Fine, she checked and said she got me Room 7 and it’s $670.  Hmm, hold on, I said, online it shows only $520.  She checked, saw that I was right and said, “Well, let me search again, only this time I won’t specify upper level. I’ll just do a search for ‘Any Room.’”  She came back and said that, yes, she was able to get it for that $520.  “So, it’s probably lower level, then, right?” I said to her.  It wasn't my first choice, of course, but there were some okay things about lower level, so...whatever, it would be saving my $150.  Oh, no, she answered, it’s the very same Room 7.  Can you imagine!!!  By doing a search for “Any Room” – rather than search specifically for Upper/Lower -- she got the exact same room for $150 less!!!
 
As I said, they are all screwed up there.

At least that's all out of the way now, though.  The only thing that's left is the trip itself.  Looking forward to it.

But man, the next time people in charge get around to discussing the commercial viability of train travel in the United States, they should really grasp the concept that -- forget the whole deal with actually traveling by train -- when you make simply buying a ticket THIS NUTS, you're only and always going to screw yourself.

As long as we're talking about novels today, I figured that this fit in quite nicely.

My pal Bart Baker is a successful writer of about a dozen TV movies and several feature films.  He's also recently started writing novels the past few years, which I've mentioned here, most notably Honeymoon with Harry, which I heartily recommend.  Yes, I'm biased, since I edited the book, but I'm not wrong -- it has a 4-1/2 star rating out of five on Amazon, and its been optioned by the movie production company, New Line for Warner Bros.  (You can get the book here.  Did I say it's really good?)  

Anyway, the novel has been out for a while, but for reasons unknown to me, it just got published in, of all places, Hungary.  Bart sent me a copy of the Foreward, though he has no idea what it says because (aside from not speaking Hungarian) he thinks it got heavily edited.  He remembers mentioning several family members -- like his father -- who he doesn't see anywhere among the words.  But...I'm in there!  (Which is why he sent me a copy.)  What's most hilarious, however, is that I'm referred to as Robert J. Elisbergnek. 

I have no idea why on earth they’d change the spelling of someone’s last name.  They didn’t change “Robert.”  Was Barack Obama known as "Barack Obamanek" when he visited Hungary?  Perhaps so, for all I know.)  But there it is -- Elisbergnek. 

What with Steven Seagal bizarrely in the news as Putin's Special Representative on "humanitarian" issues -- because when you think "Steven Seagal" you generally think, "humanitarian" -- it made me think of my very tangential connection with him.  And no, we never met.

But consider this my tribute to Humanitarian Steven Seagal, no matter how tangential.

As I mentioned a while back, I wrote songs for a brief while with a fellow named Andy Marx -- one of them actually even got used in a Showtime movie called The Wharf Rat, with Lou Diamond Philips.  (I wrote about it here and embedded the song.)

During some of this time, Andy was also working on movies as a unit publicist, and at one point he had been hired for the 1990 movie, Hard to Kill -- which starred Steven Seagal.  Andy had the idea that we should write an end-title song for the movie.  Since he of course knew the producer, he could submit it to him.  

Mind you, not having read the script, I had little idea what the story was about, though Andy gave me the general plot.  It was about how Seagal's character is left for dead after an attack kills his wife.  In a coma for seven years, he finally recovers, and after all that lost time he sets out to avenge the memory of his wife and track down those who killed her.

We also had no clue what they were looking for, of course, so we tried two versions -- a ballad, and one that was up-tempo and more "driven."  The best I could figure was that "lost time" and memories of a loved one seemed important.

Alas, it was not to be.  The producers didn't want either.  But the good news is that I went on to write articles on my own website!

Anyway, I figured with the Seagal guy back in the news, I'd embed both versions of what we came up with.  And I think they stand on their own as songs, not inherently tied to the movie.  Though of course that's what they they were for.  That's Andy singing and playing, and I'll include the lyrics so you can sing along.  Sorry that I don't have a bouncing ball...

​All of my days
Are like a circle without end.
Never knowing what to trust
Or who's a friend.
Everything's changing in the world I thought I knew.
But something happens whenever I'm with you.
                      
Time stands still
When I see you in the light.
And when you're lying next to me
Through every night.
Time stands still         
Everytime I hear your name.
It will always be the same.
Time stands still.
 
You are a memory
That always will be near.
Yours are the promises
That never disappear.
Rivers flow on and on forever to the sea.
And forever's just a moment whenever you're with me.
 
Time stands still
When I see you in the light.
And when you're lying next to me
Through every night.
Time stands still
Everytime I hear your name.
It will always be the same.
Time stands still.

 
I'm in a world
Where I've never been before.
Every moment we're together
Makes me want you even more.

 
Time stands still
When I see you in the light.
And when you're lying next to me
Through every night.
Time stands still
Everytime I hear your name.
It will always be the same.
Time stands still.
 
Time stands still.

​In the eye of a hurricane,
The world seems safe and warm.
But it's a false sense of security.
The calm before the storm.
Now, it's been said that all will come
To those who stand and wait.
But the wind will soon begin to blow.
And then, it's far too late.
 
     Time waits for no one.
     Years go by too fast.
     The glory of the moment
     Is past.
    
     No one can wait around for
 
     Time waits for no one.
     Midnight closes in.
     A chance that's missed will never
     come again.
          
 No one can wait around for Time.
 
On the edge in the city,
Alone, nowhere to turn,
Every face is a stranger.
The soul begins to burn.
The darkness hides the answers,
And the truth can be unkind.
And when the wind begins to blow,
It leaves the lost behind.
 
     Time waits for no one.
     Years go by too fast.
     The glory of the moment
     Is past.
    
     No one can wait around for
 
     Time waits for no one.
     Midnight closes in.
     A chance that's missed will never
      come again.
 
     No one can wait around for Time.
 
     (Repeat chorus)

The longtime morning show host of classical music station WFMT in Chicago, Carl Grapentine, signed off today after 22 years with the broadcast.  He's been broadcasting for 42 years, starting in Detroit, but he's been at WFMT for 32 years.  He'll continue at the station, he's not retiring, but it'll be for special projects and a regular podcast.  

How he came to WFMT is an amusing story.  He was working in Detroit at classical music station WQRS that had, in fact, modeled itself after WFMT.  He had made his first connection with the Chicago station a few years earlier when he was visiting the city at a broadcast convention and had met Norm Pellegrini, the station's longtime Program Director.
 
“That brings us to the summer of 1985,” he remembers. “I was in Chicago for a few days so I called Norm and asked if I could stop by, say hello, and see the new WFMT studios at 3 Illinois Center. We were sitting in his corner office overlooking the lake when someone popped in and asked me, ‘Did you say you were from the Detroit?  I think your radio station was sold this morning!’”

“Naturally I was shocked. Later in the day I made some phone calls and found the story to be true. But the important detail is what Norm said to the news. ‘Y’know…we have an opening here!’ That was late July 1985. After the exchanges of some taped auditions and an in-person interview, I was invited to join WFMT. My first day on the air was January 9, 1986.”

Thanks to the magic of streaming on the Internet, I've gotten to hear him on occasion here in Los Angeles, though I really haven't listened to his show much in recent years -- with the two hour time difference, a Chicago morning show starts around 4 AM on the West Coast.  The guy has a terrific program and is a wonderful host, with a warm voice and engaging personalty -- but I have my limits.  Still, I would be sure to listen to him on my trips to Chicago.

This week, however, I made sure to check in for his finale.  And I got up a bit early to hear today's last morning broadcast.  He deserved nothing less, for a particular reason, which I'll explain.
​

I want to put Carl Grapentine and the relationship he had with my mother in perspective.

I have a good friend RIch Capparela who is a terrific classical music announcer.  He's been on several stations, but mostly KUSC here in Los Angeles.  And for many years, he had the morning show.  So, I figured he'd appreciate the story.  When I told him, he didn't just appreciate it -- he was stunning by it.  "I would never do that," he said.  It wasn't that he didn't want to be nice -- Rich is actually an incredibly nice person.  A listener once asked if he'd do a favor for her mother who loved his show and asked if he'd record something for her birthday, that the daughter would play and make it seem like it was the daily broadcast, to trick her mother as a birthday gift.  And Rich did that.  Pretty nice.  But nicer still, when the mother had to go into the hospital for some reason, Rich went to visit her here.  Awfully nice guy, as I said.  It has an even better pay off -- they fell in love and got married.  So, when Rich Capparela says he wouldn't have done what Carl Grapentine did, that speaks volumes.  His reason was a very good one -- it was because of the responsibility. If something happened at the station and he couldn't make the call when he said he would -- or if he just simply forgot -- or for whatever reason he couldn't make the call, he just didn't want the responsibility of screwing up and causing a problem for someone.

But Carl Grapentine made the call.  In fairness, it probably helped that he'd been taking phone calls from my mother for years and likely felt that he knew her, and liked her.  But whatever the reason, he made the call.

So, I made sure to set my alarm early and get up to listen to his final morning show broadcast.

I should have phoned him and asked him to give me a wake-up call...

The celebrated writer Harlan Ellison passed away the other day at the age of 84.  If you jump over to Mark Evanier's site, he has a couple of good pieces on him here and here.  (And check back there in a few days, as well, because he's swamped now, but has some other stories he'll be posting.)  However, there's also an excellent, long and detailed obituary that's really more of a personal remembrance of Ellison in the Chicago Tribune.  You can read that here. 

Among other things, I had no idea about him suing the makers of The Terminator (though him suing anybody doesn't remotely surprise me) and winning a settlement, which included adding an acknowledgement to him in the film's credits.

All the articles on his passing have one thing in common -- their conflict between praising a tremendous writer and wonderful man...and his profound curmudgeon who could be brutally harsh.  One thing that writers did love him for is his unabashed support for writers against their mistreatment by publishers, studios, executives and pretty much anyone.  He could get away with it because, being Harlan Ellison, he couldn't be any other way, but also being such a wonderful writer who worked in many different fields, he had no fear of being confrontational.
 
I only crossed paths with him a couple times, and he certainly was a unique fellow.  One time was at Writers Guild retreat where he was one of the guest speakers.  I remember his first line, even though it was from over two decades ago.  "I'm a better writer than everyone in this room."  (He probably was.  But what a way to win over a crowd.  He did eventually, but it took a while...)

The first time I came into contact with him was  from a two-day seminar he lead when I was at UCLA grad school, getting my MFA in screenwriting.  For Day 1, he got three famous sci-fi writers to discuss what a planet society could be like (the climate, landscape, people, politics…), and then that was put into a pamphlet.  Then on Day 2, three other famous sci-fi writers discussed what stories could come from that.  I recall they named the planet, “Medea:  Harlan’s World.”  I had the presence of mind to save my pamphlet – though like a fool, didn’t take many dozens – and got all those participants present to sign it.  Those who participated in Part 1 but who weren't there were Poul Anderson, Larry Niven, Frederick Pohl, and Hal Clement.  But the people who did sign my pamphlet were Ellison, Frank Herbert, Theodore Sturgeon, Robert Silverberg, and Thomas Disch.  If you don't read science fiction, you likely won't know these names -- though may know Frank Herbert, who wrote Dune.  If you do read science fiction, you're likely agog.  (What ultimately came from this pamphlet and seminar is a book with those short stories and others.  You can read about it here.
​

​​​Probably a couple decades later, I ran into him when I was working at Universal Pictures, and I had a rare treat – being able to impress Harlan Ellison.  I told him that I had a copy of that pamphlet with all those signatures, and he was boggled.  “That’s worth a lot of money, you know…”  Just impressing Harlan Ellison may have been worth more.

After posting my article this morning about the passing of my cousin Elinor Miller at the age of 102 (or, "...going on 103, as she put it.), I thought I'd bookend it with another complimentary piece.  That's because today is the 102nd birthday of another dear lady I know, Adeline Cohn, who lived in the same independent living residence where my folks moved.  So, here's the tale of her 100th birthday party, written July 10, 2016

​I spent last month in Chicago, dealing with my father's estate, but I just popped back to town for a quick couple of days -- and for a wonderful reason.  It centers around the lovely, endearing and joyous Adeline Cohn.

Adeline lived down the hall from my folks, and I adored her.  In fact, on my last trip in, she and I had dinner a couple of times.  I'm back now because last night her family had a party to celebrate her 100th birthday.  And they invited me.  Though I'm still catching up on my life and have a lot of estate matters swirling around, there was absolutely no way I was not going to come in and attend.
​

​Adeline is a spitfire. Still sharp and lively, in very respectable health, it's always a bit of a challenge setting up those dinners with her, because she has to check her calendar.  Hey, when friends ask me about getting together for dinner, I tend to be more free than Adeline is.  She has a social life that remains that active, much of it centered on her deep love of playing bridge.  But she has other dinners to go to, concerts -- she has season tickets to the Chicago Symphony and Lyric Opera -- the Ravinia Festival, and other events.

Adeline even still drove up until about a year ago.  And though I usually don't find that sort of thing as wondrous as it sounds ("Oh, isn't it great that he's still driving?!!"  No, I tend to think, it's not.)  In Adeline's case she actually was still a pretty good driver.  She only gave it up -- with great reluctance, because she loved the freedom it gave her -- when her daughter Donna convinced her that if she was ever in an accident, "It will always be your fault," no matter if it was the other person who caused it.  When you're 98, everyone will presume it was your fault.  So, Adeline gave up the car keys.

But she stayed vibrant and active, and simply found other ways to get around and do things.  When I was in Chicago last month, a friend came down to visit -- she's a nurse, so she's spent her share of time around the elderly -- and we had brunch with Adeline.  "She is the liveliest 100-year-old I have ever met," she said in awe.  Though in fairness, Adeline wasn't 100 at the time.  She was only 99 years and 11 months...

Her actual birthday was July 1 -- the day after my dad's -- and I telephoned her that morning.  "Adeline," I said, "it's not often when I get to say this, but...Happy 100th birthday!"  It is a joy to say such thing.  (Last year, I wrote about attending the 100th birthday of my cousin Elinor Miller.  The pleasure of such things doesn't wear thin.)

It was a wonderful talk, as it always is with Adeline.  "Can you believe that I'm 100??" she'd say with wonderment, not just that day but even in the past year or two leading up to it.  (She knew she was going to make it.)  "And I'm in still in such good health." She's led such a good, interesting, and expansive life.  And even though I'd just been in Chicago for a month and had so much to catch up on back in Los Angeles, there was no way I wasn't coming back here to celebrate 100 with her in person.

The evening was wonderful.  About 50-60 people were at her daughter and son-in-law's home.  I was going to say that most everyone was a family member or long-time dear friend (how I got in there, I don't know...but I adore Adeline, so I guess that helped ), but then pretty much everyone who meets Adeline sees her as a dear friend, and she brings you into her life.  ("You're not a friend," she'd say to me, "you're family.") She's no soft-touch pushover, mind you, she's very sharp and observant with great standards.  But open, warm and a joy.

One of her actual dearest friends, internationally-acclaimed violinist Miriam Fried, rearranged her schedule to be there -- again, who would miss it, if they had the chance to be there?! -- and performed at the house.  So, too, did her grandson Tom Stone, a longtime member of the Cypress Quartet.  And some others.

It was a wonderful celebration even without all that.  Just being around Adeline is celebration enough.  And who knows how the gala will be celebrating the next 100 with her.  Knowing Adeline, it's not a completely safe bet she won't be there.

Now, I'm back to Los Angeles.  Bu a joy to have come in.

This morning, I headed to Downtown Los Angeles to join the masses in protest outside City Hall.  Speeches and entertainers were scheduled, before a march to the Federal Building.

The crowd was huge, and the speeches impassioned.  Honestly, I thought the event last week in Westwood was far better, even if overwhelmingly smaller.  The speakers were particularly good -- three congressmen (including famously now, Maxine Waters) and a lot of local and state officials.  They talked about what could be done and what was being done -- and there even were busses for taking blankets and toys and necessities down to San Diego detention centers.

The speeches Downtown were mostly telling us what was bad and terrible and horrific about Trump and his administration and this action separating children from their parents, along with a lot of immigration stories about themselves, including one young woman who was undocumented and told about her mother and father bringing their family to California.  To be clear, those speeches are incredibly valuable in building up emotion and support for unity.  But for me, speaking only personally, I didn't need convincing.

I have no idea exactly how many people turned out there, though the Los Angeles Times reports "tens of thousands."  MoveOn.org says 70,000.  (This appears to have been the biggest in the country.  They report Washington, D.C. and New York as each other 35,000.  And Chicago at 60,000.)  The crowds stretched in all directions -- this above is just looking at the rear.  And when I left after 90 minutes, people were still arriving on the Metro trains with signs.

I did leave before the march, which is actually the main thing I was looking forward to.  But after 90 minutes of speeches, I had no idea when the march would begin.  And since I was pretty much convinced at that point that putting babies in cages was a sick way for the government or humans to act, I took off, knowing that there was a flowing mass of outraged, motivated people shouting their anger still as loudly as when it all began.

​And everyone was absolutely civil.  Just really, really, incredibly furious.
​

Though next week is when the big protests rallies are scheduled around the country over the Trump immigration policy that separates children from there parents, they had an earlier, smaller one today in West Los Angeles.  There might have been a few others around the country, but the point of this one was a bit different, initially set up as a way to get toys, blankets and necessities to the children.  Despite the short time organizing it and small locality, the turnout was quite good.  It seemed like about 500-700 people, but there were still many coming when I left after an hour-and-a-half.

It was supposed to be held at the Federal Building in Westwood, but a speaker said they couldn't get permission from the government.  However, the City of Los Angeles gave them approval to organize on the sidewalk next to it.  (Come to think of it, that might be why there was a young woman with a sign imploring people to keep on the paths.  It made no sense, since the grounds were basically dirt, and so it wasn't like you would be trampling grass.)
​

I was told about the event by my friend Nick Melvoin, who was recently elected to the L.A. School Board and was named Vice President.  He was one of the speakers, but the roster was impressive for such a hastily put-together event.  There were a couple of members of the L.A. City Council, the state senator and assemblyman, and also the two U.S. House representative for the area -- Rep. Karen Bass, and Rep. Ted Lieu (who you might have seen on Friday playing the audio tape on the House floor of crying children, being reprimanded by the temporary Sitting-Speaker).  I didn't stay around to hear them, but did hear another congresswoman, Rep. Maxine Waters, who gave a fire-and-brimstone speech shredding the president.  Not a bad line-up for something this quickly organized.

[UPDATE: Here's video of Maxine Waters' full six-minute speech, not just the one-minute played on TV and misrepresented by Republicans.  Short version -- she laid out the case of the dangers of Trump and his administration, and then using that as a foundation said that GOP officials should be confronted peacefully and publicly shamed to let them know their actions are not acceptable.  Not violence, but to use your voices.  As you'll see from above, her words of even peaceful confrontation aren't even mentioned by me in my original write-up, it was such a small part of what she actually said.]

There were more speakers during the 90 minutes I was there -- with another hour-and-a-half to go), including a representative of the Southern Christian Leadership Council (Martin Luther King's group), other religious figures, and a few celebrities and entertainers, most notably Kristen Bell.

Yes, yes, I know.  You were hoping for a picture of Nick Melvoin.  But sometimes we have to make decisions that might not be popular.

She actually gave a very good, thoughtful speech, mostly focusing on kids from her perspective as a mother.  (So many questions that children ask, she said, you can't answer, like "Do dinosaurs burp?"  But when they're older and see pictures in history books of this moment, and they ask, "Was this real??  Did you do anything?", that was a question we should all be able to answer "Yes.")

Side note:  about 45 minutes later when she eventually left, some people near me saw her heading off at a distance and called to her for a selfie with their toddler.  She wandered over and not only took a picture with the baby, but spent time talking with it.

There was an odd realization that hit me after about an hour or so.  The event was well-attended with people of all ages, from quite a bit older to parents and their kids, some being very young, along with areas for children to make signs.  And as I was looking around at some of the six-year-olds (and younger) playing on the ground and hugging onto their mothers and sitting on their dad's shoulders -- it struck me how terrified they'd be if they lost sight of their parents for just two minutes.  I couldn't imagine their reaction of their parents were gone -- just gone, for days and weeks.  If not longer.  The perspective was visceral and heart-breaking.  And sickening.

Fortunately, that wasn't an issue for anyone there.  And the spirit and anger was strong.  What I didn't know, though, until I got to the grounds was the larger purpose of the event.  As I noted above, they were gather items for the children who had been put in detention centers in San Diego, three hours to the south.  It turns out that they had also hired several buses to take as much of the material as they could -- they said they got 10 times more than they expected and were asking for people there with trucks -- and also bring people down to deliver it all and to try and get into some facilities.  Had I known in advance, I might have tried to go along, but I wasn't prepared for what they said would be an 11-hour journey.

All in all, a very well-done, admirable and sadly necessary day.  It'll be interesting to see what happens next week in Los Angeles and around the country.

​And oh, okay, giving in to popular demand, here's a photo of Nick Melvoin...