My conversation with The Mayor

I love Lisa Gordon. Let’s just start with that.

One of my dearest, most darling friends in this chapter of my life, we met at Café Vida in Pacific Palisades. A popular haunt for good food and even better vibes, the day of our meeting was a particularly symbolic one. I had walked over to the restaurant with another good friend, Ellie Shapiro. Ellie and I had become close after she and her writing partner sought out my expertise as a professional screenwriter to assist on their sweeping project that was intended to be an adaptation of a popular Russian work of literature. I introduced Ellie, who is from Malibu, to Vivian, a beloved proprietor who had recently sold her namesake boutique and was selling off her inventory to make room for the new owner, who was a nurse from Palisades High where my brother’s mother in law, Mary Redclay, was once a pillar of The English department. Ellie suggested lunch and I said I would order a cup of tea. I was unhappy and flummoxed that having not changed my lean diet which didn’t include alcohol or meat or curtailed my hikes and active, grueling workouts, I was inexplicably lugging around an extra 50 pounds on my once perfect frame. Menopause is the cruelest of mistresses and eating out was the first indulgence to go.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I saw the thespian Steve Guttenberg seated at a table and thought I must say hello as he was always incredibly courteous at The Y. Steve is also a staunch supporter of Theatre Palisades where I sat on the board. He was on the phone on the outside patio as were we and before approaching his table, I saw another friend of mine, the goddess Joanna. I say goddess because her beauty is ethereal and she has a pure heart to match. Secretly, I think I am also in a state of complete adoration when I see her because she has a very similar look to my late mother, Mariam, who was and is the whole reason I was even lucky enough to call The Palisades home. Incidentally, Joanna was also one of my clients as I was building a business post writers strike to aid those magical thinkers who had stories to share in script form.

I hugged Joanna hello before she moved to her table and when leaving, Ellie and I stopped to say goodbye. It was then that Joanna introduced me to Lisa, who not only was the last guest at my Palisades place I lovingly referred to as “The Treehouse”, she is a successful practitioner of good health through her business. She brought me a beautiful candle when she came for lunch and with stars in our eyes, in December 2024, we made hopeful plans for our future.

Café Vida and Vivian’s no longer exist because of the fires. Ellie lost her Malibu manse and Joanna is bereaved for the loss of her community and her beautiful sanctuary. Steve Guttenberg saw me through my grief by providing an interview post fires as he was our home town hero, helping move cars and aiding the confused and panicked Palisadians in the pandemonium of our evacuation on January 7, 2025. He shared an account of the day which I expanded into a YouTube episode called Processing The Palisades: Why o Y.

10 months on, I didn’t feel like I could heal in Culver City, so last week, I moved back home.

It would only make sense that Lisa would be there to hold my hand when I made the shaky decision to return to the Palisades. She is effusive, supportive, and loving. Not only that, the day after she and her gorgeous, talented daughter, Hannah, ushered in my post fire future, Lisa took me shopping to pick up whatever I had forgotten I needed for my new home, having lost everything to the flames.

(***Side note*** I was fortunate many of my late mother’s effects were in storage so that I could utilize pieces from my childhood as healing aids. It felt like a salve over my heart to have my mother with me as I decorated the temporary abode I was forced to move in with my dementia ridden father. He was also forced to evacuate his home because of the fires. I’d like to think this also gave him comfort as the dreadful disease advanced significantly as a result of the displacement. He often mistakes me for my mother, his beloved wife of 40 years.)

On the way out of The Palisades, Lisa and I drove through a familiar area. We were moved as we always are by both the progress and devastation. Additionally, we noticed an enormous banner a homeowner placed where their beautiful home once was that simply read “Karen Bass. Resign Now.” I took a picture and, with no judgment but the objectivity of an observer, posted the picture on Tik Tok. Suffice it to say, there was a lot of visceral reaction in the comments section.

And then my life went on, decorating as though for new beginnings while attempting to grasp some semblance of my once cherished life so many months on. To say that I was moved to tears daily in this process would be an understatement.

I believe that art can be incredibly therapeutic. It’s why I am on the board at Theatre Palisades and why I have continued to champion for all of our post fire productions as I am in charge of special events for the theater that no longer stands anywhere but in our hearts. My fellow board member and friend, Hannah, proposed reading a spooky story for the children of the Palisades as this year The Y bravely and in support of community are hosting their annual pumpkin patch. The Y may be no longer, but the sense of celebration for fall holidays is important for the children and families who have already endured so much.

When I walked over to the site yesterday having rehearsed my parts as the sergeant and Mrs. White in W.W. Jacobs’ work, The Monkey’s Paw, I was struck that Los Angeles mayor, Karen Bass, was in conversation with a neighbor close to the entrance of the pumpkin patch. I would be lying if I didn’t say in the moment I had very mixed feelings. However, I was there for a performance, not politics.

Children were running animatedly past pumpkin displays, tented offerings, and, quite simply, through their childhoods with abandon. A child gets one shot at this time and it should be blissful and not weighed down by the enormous responsibilities we have to rebuild their safe spaces.

The mayor visited the several set ups as most politicians might before making her way over to our Theatre Palisades tent. In that moment, I knew I had a choice. Actually, her presence inspired a long forgotten realization of who I was. Much of my family emigrated to India at a time when India was fighting for its independence from Britain. Gandhi was our patron saint and my grandfather and his brother fought side by side through peaceful and not so peaceful protest alongside Mahatma himself. In my youth, I stood for causes vocally and somewhat bravely so much so that I went to UCLA, majored in Political Science, and had aspirations of becoming a political consultant. I always contended that honest dialogue can reveal intentions, good or bad. Sadly, I was soured on California politics years ago and abandoned that career plan in favor of film school. But, this was my moment to do the right and write thing. I was going to talk to the mayor. Talk. Not shout. Not disrespect. Not yell in her face. I am incensed and traumatized just like all of my neighbors, but this should be an opportunity for me to show her who we are: resilient, invested in our community, and die hard Palisadians who are looking for answers and not a pat passing of the blame if there is any to be had. The people of Pacific Palisades are here to stay. Madame Mayor, you coming to us means you are in our house and like any guest, whether Karen Bass or my beloved Lisa Gordon, I was going to do what my mother would expect.

I was going to be gracious but firm. I was going to be honest about what my expectations are and as a human being, I was not going to point fingers, what good would that do me now? Was that going to bring my grandparents’ china from 1941 or the mementos from my childhood back? No. But, if there was going to be a path forward, there would be expectations from the powers that be and I think I vocalized them firmly and with respect.

I like to believe that’s how my mother would handle it. That’s how Lisa might. And, most importantly, the fires have forced me to come into my own and that was the decision that felt right and write for me. The Palisades is my home and, when somebody is a guest in my home, I reflect the grace and respect that my beloved Palisades instilled in me over the last 40 years.

Madame Mayor, if there is something else you’d like to say, I’m listening…Not all of us are understandably, but I am. I wouldn’t have come back if I wasn’t…