Seasons from a Previous Life

Helluva season, pal.

The line is from Wedding Crashers and it startles me out of a snowy Sunday nap.

I blink at the TV set and at an unexpected memory:

Wedding Crashers was the first movie Alberto and I ever saw in a theatre together.

He had turned up one June Thursday on my West Hollywood porch for what became our third date:

Just a weekender bag, a bouquet of flowers and a big grin.

Surprise!

During his visit, I showed him my version of L.A.: under-the-radar spots for brunch, for sushi, for a nightcap. In the neighborhood of Los Feliz, we’d browsed an independent bookstore, ducked into an old-timey theatre to watch Crashers and stopped into the Dresden, a divey lounge where the legendary Marty and Elaine still perform.

That June weekend was 14 days before he proposed and eight weeks before our whirlwind wedding, where there were crab cakes and dancing and the only crasher was the five-year-old daughter of a dear friend.

Helluva season, pal.

Helluva season.