After the Thanksgiving holiday, I took the train from Sherman Oaks to Solana Beach and visited my friend Grant in his rented condo, view from the bedroom pictured above. As you can see, the view is amazing. At the time, Venus and Jupiter were brightly conjunct in the nighttime sky - so bright that they cast a beautiful shimmering light on the sea just after sunset, with the moon following close by.
The Venus and Jupiter conjunction should have augured well for us, and indeed we had a lovely two nights together. Grant, true to his inimitable style, cooked me wonderful breakfasts and dinners. We had a good time, but I could also see that he was troubled about his future - what to do next. I listened, as a good friend and sometime-lover will do, but only he could answer the riddle of his future. And it was clear to me that he was indeed troubled. I think we can all understand that career transition at 56 years old carries clear challenges.
I took the train back up to Los Angeles that Sunday, and drove back to my job and home in Mammoth, figuring we'd chat in two weeks as he had suggested as he made up his mind whether to join me for New Year's and his future plans.
But I haven't heard from him since. Subsequent messages have gone unanswered, and it's not like him at all.
Okay, so he's only been an active presence in my life since May, 2008, when I met him again at his father's memorial service (I'd last seen him circa 1974, when I was a teenager and he was a wild young man on his way to hedonism in France). His father, Hank, was one of my father's closest friends, and for a time in the early 1970's, my father shared the Mandeville Canyon home where Hank lived. Grant and his two brothers were older, romantic background figures - dashing young men in their 20's.
But at the memorial service in May, Grant took a real shine to me. He sort of swept me off my feet with a first date at the Malibu Chart House, followed by more dinners and beach time and long distance conversation once I moved up to Mammoth and then his three-week visit in August. We've enjoyed some great times together. We get along. I like the man. Let's say I'm really fond of the man. Let's say I could even love the man, if he chose to open up his heart. It doesn't hurt that he's brilliant, fun, and creative.
On the other hand, he did once describe himself as "an asshole" and if I've learned anything in my forty-plus years on this planet, it's to listen to self-description. It's usually dead-on.
So the obvious answer is that he's found a new girlfriend. But the thing is, we never really had any kind of commitment. We were friends. So if there's a new woman in his life, frankly it wouldn't seem to be his style to drop out if he'd met someone new or rekindled something with an old flame.
No, the next answer - and sadly more serious - is that he's gone into some kind of black depression - so deep, so black, that he doesn't want to talk to anyone except maybe his closest friends and family.
The worst case scenario, and one that haunts me, is that he's dead. But if that were the case, wouldn't one of his brothers have contacted me? Douglas knows where I work, and Bruce has my email. I guess it's only pride that keeps me from emailing them, because let's face it, isn't the likely answer that he IS seeing some other woman and doing what guys do - drop out of sight?
On the other hand, I spoke with a friend we'd met during our hikes this summer - Sally, who lives in Carson City, Nevada. She was saddened to hear that Grant has gone missing, but believes based on her observation of us together that he if were going to chose any woman, it would be me, but that until he solves his career issue, he isn't in any position to do so.
I'd like to think that's the case.
Meanwhile, following are some photos from happier days during the summer, when he visited me in Mammoth for three weeks in August. These are the times I want to remember, especially if Grant indeed never surfaces again. How appropriate in the first one, he's pictured in my old apartment loft bed on Davison Street, reading "Missing in the Minarets", about mountaineer Pete Starr's disappearance.
So maybe I should call this blog "Missing in Solana Beach."
I love this one of Grant - happy on the Mono Pass trail, after the 2000 foot climb. This is at Summit Lake, just over 12,000 feet, in the shadow of Mt. Starr, named after the father of the missing mountaineer. Hey, not bad for a smoker and an ex-smoker (I've been quit nearly five years now!).
Me, happy at Lake George, after Grant served me the steak and potatoes dinner he concocted. Good hair day, too! Never frizzes up in dry Mammoth.
Grant, in serious mode, preparing the food. He set up the whole cooksite while I finished work and then met him there at the shore of Lake George. Note the bottle of Pinot Noir in the background. He remembered to bring my favorite! Excuse me, how sweet is that? Not only did the man prepare dinner for me in one of Mammoth Lakes' most beautiful, accessible spots, but he brought my favorite libation. This is not a friend I wanted to lose.
Grant, wherever you are, I miss you.
