![]() I must not be alone in that assessment since Apple’s stock just posted a new 52-week high. Since the entire conference was under NDA (Non-Discloser Agreement), I can’t really go into specifics about most of the stuff that was talked about. I’ve never seen them as adults and can barely remember some of their names. Almost a decade and a half has passed, the trees are taller, the plants filled in and most of the children have left home. On the way to find help he collapsed from the heat. Al and his father were camping in the desert on an exceptionally hot day and had car trouble. ![]() This past weekend, Al, their youngest son, died. As either a side business or a hobby or both, he used to die-cast tiny model-train people at a workbench in their garage. Similar to our other neighbors, they were young and newly married. The people two doors down are the reason I started writing this. His wife and two kids moved a few years later. Shortly after, the well-off art collector didn’t come home. Their father, a young and apparently heathly man in his 40s died of a heart attack. Their next door neighbors had a boy and a girl. A few years ago Richard died of complications from ALS. Two huge drawings of skyscrapers in his stairwall were by Richard Bunkall, whom I studied painting with at Art Center. He had art on the walls, real art, not prints or art-fair paintings. Directly across the street, a couple moved in who seemed to have a ton of money. My youngest brother was born around then, and there was quite a handful of young children who would all play together. Or, more specifically, people moved in and had kids. When the houses finally went in across the street, more people with kids moved in. Though I can readily call up the humiliation, pain and anger, those days still seem like magic. Mostly the kids would torture one another, pick fights and generally make each other’s lives miserable. Sometimes we’d fly kites, other times we would ask for a ride on the elektroroller scooter that the coolest kid in town used to own. ![]() ![]() The gradings which would one day define property lines and backyard fences made perfect jumps for boys on dirt bikes. This was a natural gathering place for neighborhood kids. I remember when each one came home for the first time.Īcross the street a field was graded out for houses which would be built a few years later. After a few years they had a daughter and a son. He still had a lot of the high school jock in him, drove a 280Z sports car with personalized plates and could throw a football farther than I’d ever seen one thrown. On one side our neighbors were newly married and in my memory younger than I probably realized. With two kids, my parents were sort of the old timers among the young parents moving into Peppermill Run. It was sometime around Easter, we ate chocolate bunnies. We were the first to live in the house my parents still live in, I remember walking through it with my mother and younger brother before it was finished, no carpeting or railings, just bare concrete where the piano would one day sit. My family moved to Irvine when I was seven or eight years old, probably 1979. ![]()
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