As some of you know I’m proud of my esteemed Culver City roots. But, you might not know that The Brogdon Girls were raised in the Culver Crest. Yes, that Crest, the Bel Air of Culver City. Or so we thought in our middle class minds frolicking in a sea of ‘50’s ranch houses.
Recently my sister Carole ran into a woman who was also a “crestor” . They were excited to connect as we knew each other’s families. We quickly arranged a dinner. She brought her two brothers, one who I had known, the other I did not. They are lovely, accomplished people. It’s funny how much you have in common with people you haven’t seen in over (well over) 30 years.
I had gone to the dinner thinking, oh, I wish their dear mom was still alive, I wish my dad was still alive. But, by the end of dinner I felt like the winner on Survivor.
I found out several people of our generation were gone. Some many years ago. Accidents, tumors, drugs, all different reasons. I wrote my brother ( like a brother, long story) in Australia. He called right away. He too was shocked at the names of the people who were no longer on this earth.
It is hard to reconcile the uneven teeth smile elementary school pictures in my mind with what happened later.