Before twitter there were fan letters: Dear Mr. Redford

November 12, 1973 Dear Bob  Mr. Redford,I just had to write to tell you how hot and sexy talented, I think you are.  Laura and I bickered over who was more desirable — Robert Redford or Clint Eastwood — with as much fervor as we girls once debated who our favorite Beatle was, Paul or John, George or Ringo. Laura's mother, tiny Corky, curled up in her easy chair with a ciggie and a cup of tea, pronounced both actors 'tall drinks of water'. This was so long before  water became such a desirable commodity that we actually had to buy it by the bottle, back in the seventies when water was still free even in the once desert lands of Los Angeles, that I never quite understood the praise. But yes, Redford could put his shoes under my bed any time, as our mothers might have said, mostly about men whose paths they would likely never cross. I had it so bad for Robert Redford after seeing The Way We Were ; wishing I were Barbara Streisand with her impossibly long eleg

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Swooning Under the Jacaranda Trees

The Jacaranda trees are blooming again; as I make my daily walk I'm dazzled by the purple haze blotting the sky, the dropped petals sticky beneath my feet. For the walk to do any good, it's supposed to be brisk, and I know I need to keep up the pace, but the lushness of the purple always takes me by surprise, stopping me in my tracks. I take pictures with my iPhone, wishing I were an Impressionist painter, Monet, Manet, I don't care. I just wish I could capture that feeling of being enveloped in an heart-stopping ultra-violet cloud of color. It happens every year in April, there's something decadent, sensual, almost sexual about the assault of purple passion. Sometimes as I drive the streets of LA, I catch myself half looking up at the canopy of blooms; distracted driving just as dangerous as texting. That feeling of being swept away is unhappily, as fleeting as pulse-quickening desire, and if you feel the urge to make love under the trees, you need to act quickly: the Jacarandas only bloom for about six weeks.

The trees are not native to our California; they're subtropical in nature so you'll find them in most south of the equator countries. The theory is that the Jacarandas came to Los Angeles in the mid 1800's by way of travelers from Brazil; in Buenos Aires the trees bloom more blue than our purple profusion. Oh, Jacarandas, you take my breath away.

If you stopped by for the memoir, you might want to head up to the pieces under the On the Street Where I Lived heading. For the month of April I'm diverting from my norm, which is mostly memoir, and posting every day but Sunday as part of the #AtoZChallenge. J is the letter of the day.


  1. Jacaranda trees are absolutely stunning in flower. Such a pretty purple. Carolyn @

  2. Jacaranda trees are absolutely stunning in flower. Such a pretty purple. Carolyn @


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