Wait It Gets Better

What a relief to get out of the fast lane. Conversation over dinner at Bruin Woods, the UCLA conference center at Lake Arrowhead, CA. They have alumni family weeks over the summer, alumni family holiday weekends in the fall:

What is it you do?

Me: I’m a playwright.

Oh. It’s a good living?

Me: Nobody makes a living writing plays. Maybe five people. Like, can you name five living playwrights?

Arthur Miller!

Me: Rightio.

Tenessee Williams!

Me: Right again.

What’s his name. The funny guy.

Me: Adam Rapp?

Yeah. The Odd Couple, right?

The place is so popular you have to win a lottery to get in. Literally. We took Graham over New Years. The big hit was this one clump of old snow that hadn’t melted–he called it his “mountain.”

The thing is, Lake Arrowhead, Playground to the Stars, is now a city in the sky: not one inch of lakefront undeveloped, as far as I could see, much of the forest that I remember decimated by the bark beetle.

Then:

Now:

It’s a shame, as I was planning to parlay some of my playwriting millions into a cottage on the lake. Now it’s back to square one.

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 11th, 2007 at 1:33 pm and is filed under General, Graham, Playwriting.You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.