I met my childhood friend Tiffany at MOCA. She drove all the way from La Jolla just so the two of us could visit MOCA together, then she headed home. We had lunch at Lemonade Cafe. Lemonade has yummy sides of vegetables. I ate beets, brussel sprouts with parmesan cheese, broccoli, and a side of ahi tuna. Tiffany treated me to a mini lemon cupcake while she had a red velvet. I bought a mini red velvet cupcake to bring back to LA for my friend Sam. I think red velvet seems to be the universal favorite flavor for cupcakes.
Tiffany and I have known each other since 4th grade. Our friendship was always simple and fun.We ate buttered toasted rye bread. Listening to Elton John for hours while looking at the lyrics on the albums was a favorite way to spend time. Scouring the sinks in each other’s homes began a life long shared fondness for sponges. We would ride our bikes to school together and after riding home, I would watch Tiffany let go of hers at the top of their long driveway, as it tumbled down to the bottom. That Schwinn took a beating year after year.
Our childhoods had a similarity. We each had three brothers, (one sister for me which Tiffany didn’t have),our mothers left when we were nine years old and we were raised by our fathers and later, step mothers.
We both grew up way too fast and a bit serious but we have always managed to use laughter to help each other in our lives.
Going to visit her in LA Jolla still feels like a holiday to me. We laugh and I am reminded of why I have stayed friends with Tiffany all these years: she doesn’t judge people, she’s forgiving, we always manage to have a good cry and the laughter never ends.
Here’s a photo of Tiffany in front of a Mark Rothko.I’ve known Tiffany for forty years. I don’t know Mark Rothko. They both inspire me.
If you click on the last photo, you can see a slide show.
Here is a painting by Alfred Jensen. He is of particular interest to me because he was born in Guatemala, just like my mother was. He was preoccupied with death from the age of seven because his mother had died. I began exploring people through the eye of my camera when my mother left. In a sense, part of her died for me as well. I’ve only recently been able to visit her alone.