tommy’s bright path

Twenty-five years ago today — on a spring morning in 1991 — I sat in the audience in front of the Oviatt Library at California State University in Northridge and watched Tommy receive his Bachelor’s degree. I think of that day often, with gratitude that I could be there to see that ceremony. Tom’s mom was also there, along […]

moon over los angeles

Author Michael Connelly, who has great affection for Los Angeles, speaks for me when he writes in his novel The Black Ice: He loved the city most at night. The night hid many of the sorrows. It silenced the city yet brought deep undercurrents to the surface. It was in this dark slipstream that he […]

tommy in los angeles

Consider a mental image: I am riding in the passenger seat of Tommy’s pickup truck, driven by my teen-age son, on a Los Angeles night — a night like the boy himself, bright, full of expectation and promise. Los Angeles feels to me at that moment like a place where anything is possible, a city […]

thoughts on tom’s birthday

Today is Tom’s birthday — he would have been 45 today. The picture above typifies Tom so well: it shows him hiking in Yosemite, one of his favorite places. The photo was taken, if I’m not mistaken, by my grandson Garrett. It has been 2 1/2 years since Tom passed away, and what shouldn’t surprise […]

the santa monica mountains, part 2

I recently was going through my desk and found an old parking stub dated March 26, 1985… Tom’s 16th birthday. If my memory serves me correctly (a big “if” these days) it’s a parking ticket from Will Rogers State Park, which is located just north of Sunset Boulevard in the foothills of the Santa Monica […]

tommy and mr. plepler at stairway of the stars

I recently updated an earlier post that described Tommy’s performance at Stairway of the Stars at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium in 1981. On that post, I have added some images, and I decided to offer those images on this new post as well. First, below, is a close-up of Tommy taken from the cover […]

a poem by john greenleaf whittier

Happy New Year to all. I would like to offer a poem, a greatly abridged (with apologies to John Greenleaf Whittier) version of “Barefoot Boy”.  It reminds me of my son Tommy, and of my own childhood in southern California. Even though Tommy was 42 when he died, lately my thoughts return, again and again, […]