I know from experience that moving to a new place is always stressful, no matter how prepared you think you are. But our recent move was not only stressful and exhausting in the expected ways – on top of it all, we had to deal with a series of disastrous and totally unexpected crises that made the weekend into a true nightmare.

On October 31st, Christine and I planned to move into a new home together – a condo near Oak and 13th and the first home purchase for us both. As the big day approached, we thought we’d done a pretty good job of getting ready. We felt prepared.

Oh, how wrong we were.

By this time I’d established a daily routine of making a run to Safeway and the liquor store on Robson at Denman, and bringing home a mix of small and large boxes. Then I’d fill them up in the evening. I even had a colour-coded sticker system. As you can see, the place was looking pretty well packed up. But looks are deceiving – there were still closets full of clothes, office stuff, books, and odds and ends that hadn’t found their way into a box yet. Just one of the stress time-bombs awaiting us.

Saturday – moving day – I was still sifting through stuff and figuring out what I could toss – a slow process, but I didn’t want to bring anything to the new place that I could possibly do without. Christine, meanwhile, steadily brought boxes down to the lobby, and soon it was packed and stacked to capacity (our building manager graciously looked the other way). Meanwhile, the movers were due at 2 and there was still tons of stuff to sort and pack up.

As a notorious pack rat, I impressed Christine – and myself – with my uncharacteristic tossing away of things… including some items I’d held onto for a long, long time. Yes, some Beta tapes from the 80’s finally hit the dumpster, along with (sigh) my old Beta machine I bought in 1986. Now, don’t get the wrong idea – I still am the proud owner of a sizable Beta collection. But once I took them all down from the closet and actually looked at the notes on each label (I’m a stickler for detailed content listings), I saw a lot of material that had lost whatever interest or importance it once had – or was now easily obtainable by other means. The Internet, DVD’s, and other resources that didn’t exist when I made these tapes had rendered them irrelevant. So Ren and Stimpy, Sex and the City, Fawlty Towers, and movies taped off of cable went OUT.

About half of my audiocassette collection also got condemned to oblivion.

But making these decisions took time – time we didn’t really have. Luckily the movers gave us a ring to say they’d picked up a small job that would cause them to arrive later –  around 3pm. We were happy for the extra time. Unfortunately, their arrival would be the first of our true disasters.

“Pierre is a close friend, a devote husband and father with 2 young boys (2 weeks old and 2 years old) and he went missing Sunday night. His car was recovered Sunday night at Prospect Point in Stanley Park and so far, all attempts to locate him have failed. A search party is being organized for tomorrow morning…please see the details from Paula (his wife) below. I understand that you are all incredibly busy people — but if you can spare some time tomorrow morning, it would be deeply appreciated by all concerned. Any and all are welcomed and obviously the more people that come, the larger area that can be searched.”

Here’s a link to the Globe and Mail article about Pierre’s disappearance: http://bit.ly/19lX7j – it includes a current picture.

Details from Paula (Pierre’s wife) are below.

———

Dear Friends and Family,

As you may have already heard personally or on the news, Pierre Parkinson is missing. Pierre is the wonderful father of two young boys, an incredible husband and an amazing friend.

We are organizing an open grid search at Stanley Park tomorrow Wednesday November 11th at 9am. Please meet at Prospect Point Cafe at 9am sharp so we can assess the number of volunteers. Please forward this to anyone that might be willing to help. Stanley Park is huge so the more searchers the better. We will be organizing everyone into groups of approximately ten to search different zones of the park.

Please note the following important information:

• When: Wednesday November 11th
• Time: 9 am sharp
• Location: Prospect Point Cafe in Stanley Park – large covered area outside of the cafe – Clothing: wear warm, waterproof clothing and sturdy footwear
• Bring: cell phone, flashlight, walking stick or ski pole, food & water (for yourself)

We’ll provide maps of the area, a photo of Pierre, and organize the teams.

Please do not contact us unless you have specific questions. If necessary, call Andrea at 604-879-8769 home/604-603-1928 cell or awadman@telus.net.

We appreciate your help and your friends/family’s help with this important search!

On Saturday, Christine and I move to our new home – the first home for us both as owners after many years of renting.

Moving to a new place is always stressful, sometimes more than others. Like most everyone, I can easily recall panics, freak-outs and meltdowns associated with past moves. This time around, though, I have to say that the process seems to be going more smoothly. Things are already mostly packed, transfer of utilities and such arranged. Maybe I have learned something after all these years.

What’s making me thoughtful this time is just how much stuff I’m parting with. Traditionally, moving for me meant dutifully packing up pretty much everything I had, with little or no analysis. Every book, record, videotape, knick-knack – it all went in a box and on to the next place.

Maybe it’s just because I have a lot more stuff now – the various “collections”, intentional or not, tend to just keep growing – but this time around, I’ve been making some hard choices and leaving a LOT of things for thrift stores, the back alley, used book stores, or the trash. OK, “a lot” may be a relative thing, but for a pack rat like myself who files away so much stuff, I think I’ve been doing pretty well.

And in the process, I’ve inevitably thought about why exactly I keep certain things – or indeed, anything. It’s an interesting question with no clear answer but plenty of pondering potential.

I’m a sentimental person by nature, and I’ll hang onto anything that acts as a memento or reminder of some time, place or experience I’ve had. Even some bad experiences (especially if they ultimately had good outcomes). But with each move, and the intervening span of years, there’s an interesting change. There seem to be three aspects, and I’ve come up with some strategies to deal with them.

A higher bar

Just how significant a memory is that item to me? Even if something still holds interest or has a little story attached to it, I have to decide if it’s important enough. If it’s not, though, I don’t have to lose it completely. I take a photo of it with my trusty digital camera and add it to my archives. (Using iPhoto Library Manager, I’ve set up a gallery just for “Discarded Items”.)

A first real look

When no urgent decision is required, it’s easy to save things “just in case” and – at least for me – the nooks and crannies, shelves and drawers, all become encrusted with items of dubious significance. In many cases, I’m sifting through mini-collections of random stuff for the first time – and realizing how little of it is of any importance. No “posterity photos” needed here – this is uncategorizable stuff, like those 3-D glasses from the movie theatre or that free button from an event I never actually attended, that just goes in the trash. Good riddance!

What’s truly important?

Events change in their importance as time goes on – some hold their value while others fade to virtual irrelevance. It’s true that this is a very subjective area, one where one’s personal philosophy comes heavily into play. But by necessity, I’ve come up with certain rules and principles to guide me. For example, I’ll hold onto most all of my vinyl records, except for ones that are duplicates (yes, there are a few) and thrift-store finds that I just didn’t care for.

Books are another area where some guidelines have helped a lot. It’s not so much whether I regularly read or look at a book, but whether I’m ever likely to, and whether there’s a sentimental attachment to it. This enabled me to discard nearly three boxes full of books – ones I know I will not miss.

Off the table

There are some things that I’ll keep without question: anything given to me by a parent or grandparent, for one thing. And for the time being, VHS and (yes) Beta tapes with material on it which is unique (local television broadcasts from the 80’s) or not readily available. YouTube and DVD’s have a big impact here, so that old tape of “Fawlty Towers” episodes goes. Eventually I plan to go through the tapes and dub the “keeper” material onto DVD.

What do we keep?

And finally, we reach the nub of it all – the things I want to keep but don’t really have a reason. For why, after all, do we keep anything? If it isn’t utilitarian, like kitchenware or clothing (though these can also be items of beauty of course), and it isn’t a work of art or something creative, or a cherished book we love to re-read, then why do we keep things at all?

For me, it’s about memory – connection to the past, to life experiences, to family and friends. That accounts for photos and such, but I also keep tickets and programs from shows I’ve been to, for example.

And it’s not only my own past that’s a factor, but a past era I feel drawn or connected to. In my case, that’s the 1950’s and 60’s, to me a time of unmatched style and elegance mixed with true whimsy and a certain innocence and optimism. So I cling to my vintage desk, my old radio, clock, phone, records, books and magazines – they reflect my personality, and I like having them around me.

Surprisingly though, for a pack rat like me, getting rid of so much stuff hasn’t been traumatic – quite the opposite. I relished the opportunity to see what I was willing to part with. I erred on the side of letting go. The result was highly cathartic – a psychological lightening to accompany the physical. And, best of all, what remains is a more pure distillation of what’s important to me, and of who I am. And as I embark on a new and exciting phase of my life, that’s a great way to begin.

Tonight, I looked on and listened in for an hour and a half while a couple of gentlemen, sitting in two comfy armchairs, had a rambling and rambunctious conversation about musical theatre. Of course, these weren’t any two men – one of them was Stephen Sondheim, the other, local actor, historian and theatre critic Jerry Wasserman, and the site of their talk was the Vogue Theatre, packed to the rafters with musical theatre lovers. It was a unique and memorable evening!

Sondheim, 79, was a relaxed and engaging presence. Head often cocked to one side, eyes baggy and half-closed yet still sparkling with energy, he threaded his responses to Wasserman’s (and later the audience’s) questions through his six decades of musical theatre history. The audience, naturally, was keenly attentive – hanging on every word, laughing at every turn of wit and backstage anecdote, even murmuring intensely when Sondheim mentioned the two stars (Catherine Zeta-Jones and Angela Lansbury) of an upcoming Broadway revival of A Little Night Music.

He mentioned early on that he’s “not a reader” – and that this surprises everyone who doesn’t know him personally – but his responses, while direct and accessible, were occasionally sprinkled with words like “manque” and “argot” that made me wish I’d brought a dictionary. No surprise that this is a man who knows his words!

There were tales of his early training, and of revelations about the “nuts and bolts” inner workings of musical composition that helped him realize his true calling. Studying with modernist composer Milton Babbitt, who was years ahead of his time – “when atonality came in he was already experimenting with electronic music” – and yet who was at the same time composing a show for Mary Martin. Sondheim said that he learned from Babbitt that a three-minute song and a Mozart concerto share the same underlying musical concepts.

He said his favourite musical – the one he feels is the all-time greatest work of musical theatre – is “Porgy and Bess”.

He said that “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum”, set in ancient Rome, originally ran four and a half hours and had an extra subplot which was dropped, but at the cost of losing some choice funny lines. His two examples: during a celebration when a bottle of wine is being passed around, someone looks at it and says, “Two. That was a very good year.” And elsewhere, one character tells another, “You’re stupid! S-T-V-P-I-D, stupid!”

Being perhaps the only chance I’ll get to see and hear a genuine musical theatre legend, I was immensely glad to be there. And although I was up in the cheap seats, (though with an excellent close-up view through the binoculars I happily remebered to take) there was something special about being in the room and soaking up the incredible vibe, that of hundreds of people all savouring each word from someone who has contributed so much to the theatre and to popular culture. Let’s hope that this is not, in fact, the last time he visits us here, but only the first of many.

View 7 photos of the Sondheim event

This weekend only, carve a pumpkin and support a women’s shelter! Join the fun folks at Central Bistro for their pumpkin-carving fundraiser event. All implements – and a pumpkin – are provided for your donation, and all proceeds go to Vancouver Rape Relief and Women’s Shelter. Best of all, Central will match your donation!

The event continues through this weekend.

The video above was shot on Thursday night and gives an idea of the fun crowd you’ll find at Central!

Central Bistro is located at 1072 Denman (at Comox). Call (604) 689-4527.

Artist John Koerner of the Vancouver School is still active and creating new work at age 96. Here is a quick look at the gallery opening of his latest show, “Cosmic”.

I just discovered the “Mad Men Yourself” section of AMC’s Mad Men site. Totally fun, and I ended up with a retro-style illustrated icon of me, along with a couple of great images of my 60’s cartoony alter-ego in appropriate settings. This one is at Sterling Cooper, the “Mad Men” agency – just hangin’ out with Peggy, Pete, Joan, Don and Roger.

Of course, the 60’s version of me is pretty much the same as the current version of me…

Click the image to see a larger version.

It’s a little known fact that I’ve had the Spice Girls stored in my closet for over ten years. Captured in the very peak of their heyday, the Girls have rested undisturbed, carefully sealed against the ravages of time. But like all pop phenomenons, time had its way with them despite my best efforts at preservation.

Mummy-like in their dessication, some still recognizable, others collapsed into a fine powder, I finally threw the light of day upon them to share my secret with the world. Then I’ll toss them away. After all, we’re moving, and some things just have to be parted with – even former global pop superstars.

I’m speaking of course, of the Cadbury “Spice Girls” line of chocolate bars.

Judging from the copyright year on the labels, I must have squirreled these away in 1998. I know this won’t do anything to undermine my reputation as a pack rat, but saving entire chocolate bars really was an extreme exception. I did it on a whim, and on the suspicion that there would be some retro kitsch value to them before long. Of course, it didn’t take years for that to happen, but the chocolate bars – each formed in a relief-sculpted likeness of one of the Girls – remained tucked away.

Now that I’ve photographed them, I’ve tossed all but one actual chocolate bar (I am keeping the labels). And who knows? They may yet turn out to be collector’s items and fund a luxurious retirement. Only another twenty years to go…

So enjoy this photo gallery of the strange, outrageous, milk-chocolatey goodness that is: “Spice Girls” Chocolate Bars!

Note: if you prefer a quick visual version, check out the photo gallery of my trip. And also see my unique and occasionally hilarious Great Signs of L.A. gallery too.

(For a brief explanation of why I was here, check out my last post.)

Descending into Los Angeles, I was reminded why I do, in fact, detest flying. Or, perhaps, why I’m hopelessly neurotic. The plane headed downward at what seemed like an alarmingly steep angle – especially considering that the airport was nowhere in sight. Suddenly I became aware of an insistent ringing/beeping sound floating through the air. It continued as we kept plunging downward, buildings and shops rising toward us. I felt my heart pound in my chest. The beeping continued. Were we headed pell-mell for a fiery doom? If we were, I felt sure there would be no warning, as we all sat there in a false cloud of security, purposefully kept in the dark by an invisible yet no-doubt frantic crew. We circled dizzily. I clutched my armrest and prepared myself for my fate.

Then, like a gift from above, I spotted a runway over on the left. My fate, it turned out, was to land precisely on time and without incident at LAX. As we landed, I breathed for about the first time in ten minutes.

In the airport, I spotted Alex by the baggage carousels, and he drove us straight over to the filming location. It was a half-hour slog through heavy traffic, a hot wind blowing at us through the rolled-down windows as we chatted away enthusiastically. Finally, we arrived at our destination, which was not quite what I expected: an old, brick warehouse in an industrial district.

Now, normally, arriving in a strange city and being driven to a dusty, isolated warehouse by someone you’ve just met could be a disconcerting experience. But before I could reflect on that, we were met by Jerry Wolfe, the sound man, and Jon Tucker, the cinematographer, and it was clear that this was just business as usual for an independent film project. Jerry was an older, solidly-built man with a low-key but affable demeanour who very much resembled James Doohan – Scotty from “Star Trek”. Jon was a young, earnest and engaging fellow with a mop of shaggy hair and Austin Powers- style thick, black-framed glasses.

Jon rolled up the big garage door and we headed into a large, dim, high-ceilinged space that offered cool relief from the sweltering day. In the middle was a cluster of equipment – camera, lights, assorted gear and a large sky-blue painted backdrop.

Alex had brought some snacks, but when it became clear that something a little more substantial was needed, he dashed out to Quizno’s and came back with a hearty lunch for all of us.

Finally, at about 1:30, they were ready. Jerry rigged me up with a clip-on mike, I settled onto the stool with the lights and camera aimed at me, and then Alex and I had a good hour-and-a-half chat about Pauline Parker and Juliet Hulme. I spoke about how the film sparked my interest in the real-life murder case and the people involved; the great feedback I’d gotten and connections I’d made thanks to the Heavenly Creatures website I built with facts and background about the film and the real story; and discussed a variety of issues surrounding the case.

Though I had to restart a couple of my answers, overall I felt I was coherent, well-spoken and managed to make some good points in response to Alex’s thoughtful questions.

Our work done, Alex drove me to the hotel, a bit of a drive over to Glendale and the Embassy Suites Hotel. I expected nothing more than a plain, reasonably comfortable room, but this place was amazing! It had a dramatic inside atrium with half of the suites facing in on it. A pond with Japanese Koi fish filled the lobby centre, and rising up dramatically behind it was a bank of glass elevators. The hotel was only recently opened, and had a rich, deluxe yet whimsical design. The room was spacious and luxuriant, with separate bedroom and living room / writing desk areas. I kind of wished I’d be spending more time here, but it wasn’t to be – by the time I checked in and got to the room, I only had 20 minutes to rest before Alex was to return and take me to dinner, and then to meet Mark and Miki. I drifted off for a few precious minutes – my only sleep since the 4 1/2 hours I’d had the previous night. Then it was off and running again!

On my suggestion, we went to Canter’s Delicatessen on Fairfax Avenue, arriving about 5. When Christine and I ate here in July, I never imagined that a mere two months later, I’d have the chance to return. And I was so delighted to be back! The perfectly unchanged 50’s decor; the vast menu with sandwiches named after Danny Thomas and Bob Hope; the outstanding and incredibly filling food. And the Jewish delicatessen atmosphere that so reminds me of similar places in Toronto or Montreal that I visited with my parents and grandparents when I was little. I reveled in a warm and happy blanket of nostalgia, while my stomach revelled in smoked meat, pastrami and jumbo pickles.

Finally it was time to head for Mark and Miki’s place. Though they’re only a block from the heart of the Sunset Strip with its hip and flashy nightclubs and trendy restaurants, their place was a tranquil and supremely charming oasis. It’s a row of storybook cottages, reached by a footpath through a beautiful garden full of nooks and crannies. Their home was equally delightful, a cozy little two-level place decorated with all kinds of fun art and retro kitsch as well as tons of books.

We drove through the pulsing neon and nightlife of Sunset Boulevard and arrived at The Complex, a funky little place with two small screening-room-size theatres. The event: Horrible Movie Night. Here, a couple who were friends of Mark and Miki would be showing a cheesy 80’s horror film, and the audience was encouraged to make fun of it by shouting out wiscracks at the screen, in the style of Mystery Science Theater 3000. The hosts had originally held similar events at their home; this was only their second attempt at a public version. Soon the lobby was filled with a creative, friendly crowd. You could tell that they all knew each other and the vibe was fun and sociable. I felt much more at home here than I would’ve among the trendy glitterati of the Strip. Everone was very nice and easy to talk to.

The movie was an absolute delight. It was a dream come true to be in a crowd full of people all encoraged to do what I usually get flak for – shouting out jokes and sarcastic comments at the screen! There were lots of sharp, hilarious barbs. There were also lots of comments that really showed it was a film industry crowd: when a scene had a sluggish, dialogue-free start, someone would shout “aaand… action!”. Of course, every time we saw a group looking for the killer, someone called out, “let’s split up!”.

But there was even more to the evening – an intermission where an improv group did some hilarious sketches “inspired” by the film. It was all so fun, with unique “only in LA” aspects, and in the company of friends, that I can’t imagine a more perfect evening’s entertainment.

It was now 10pm and although it was a Saturday night in LA, all I wanted to do was get to my hotel room and collapse into a warm bed, and get a good night’s sleep.

Well, OK, there was one last stop I had to make, especially since it was right on our way – a milkshake at Mel’s Diner! It’s another of my favourite retro LA hangouts. Tonight, unlike my last daylight visit, there was valet parking, and it was not optional – even though there were spaces aplenty right in front of us. Strange to me, but hey – that’s LA!

It was 11:45 when I finally found myself back in my room, where I quickly sank into a blissful slumber after an extraordinarily unique, and rather surreal, day.

Like many adventures I’ve had, it all started with an email.  A few weeks back, I was contacted by Alex Roman, an independent filmmaker in L.A., who was planning a documentary on the Parker/Hulme murder case – the events of which were the basis for the film, “Heavenly Creatures”. Alex contacted me thanks to my website on the film and the facts of the real-life case, which I created back In 1996 in the months after first seeing – and completely falling for – the film. Even all these years later, the site generates steady if occasional email contacts from fans of the film and even people connected in some way to the real people of the story.

Alex fell firmly in the latter category, as he was planning a film called “Reflections of the Past” (www.reflectionsofthepast.net) that would explore the underlying issues of the case in a way not done before.

Initially, he asked only for information and some contacts, but after a more lengthy email exchange and a long phone conversation, he told me he was interested in interviewing me! Though I assured him I was no walking encyclopedia of the case by any means, only a passionate fan of the film and interested in the real story and people, he felt that my perspective was valuable to include.

Still, I wondered how he would logistically go about interviewing me. He considered flying to Vancouver, but decided in the end to fly me down to L.A.

I was surprised, flattered and, it must be said, a little taken aback at first, to be going on a trip like this at the expense of someone I barely knew and had never met. This was a totally new experience for me. Did I even know what I was getting into?

However, everything I’d seen and heard reassured me that all was on the up and up. Alex struck me as a smart, earnest and dedicated guy. His preliminary footage seen on his website was clearly shot with the utmost care and professionalism, and the assistance of a talented crew. Plus, he also had a podcast (it’s at www.alexlivinginla.com) wherein he interviewed local L.A. characters, from booksellers to police officers. The people were interesting and his questions engaging. I was sure that this would be a fun and rewarding experience.

And besides, my general feeling is that one should grab life with both hands, and – within reason – take the opportunities it throws your way. A bit of a leap into the unknown now and then is a good thing. The truth is, I never really doubted I would be going.

Feeling a strong sense of responsibility to provide Alex with strong material for his film – especially considering the effort and expense he was taking on to bring me down there – I made sure to go over his questions (which he provided in advance) and think about them as deeply as possible. I also rewatched “Heavenly Creatures”. Although in the past I’d viewed it countless times, it had now been a long time since I’d seen it. Even a beloved film can lose its impact through overexposure. But happily, the passage of time rendered it fresher than I’d thought possible. Again I found myself utterly wrapped up in Pauline and Juliet’s teenage exhilaration, laughing at the giddy humour of the scenes of their developing friendship, and – as the cruelly inevitable end approached – gripped with dread and overcome with emotion at the tragedy and horror that ended a life and caused so much destruction and heartache.

And so it was that I found myself where I am now – on a plane bound for LAX, where I’ll meet Alex in person and answer his questions. It should be a great experience. I’ve also arranged to join another friend in LA and another filmmaker. Mark Tapio Kines – who I also know thanks to an “HC” connection. All of us are set to go to a fun “Mystery Science Theatre”-style movie tonight. It looks to be a fun and memorable experience. More reportage to come!

Read the rest of the story here