The Logical Choice
Noel Laflin
10-15-2023
Forty years ago today, on a warm October Sunday morning just
like today, I spied a billboard just outside of Mimi’s Café in Tustin. It said,
‘New Condos,” with an arrow pointing east.
I needed a new home as the landlord at my apartment in Costa
Mesa discovered that I was housing both a dog and a cat and that either they or
the three of us would have to leave. It seemed to me that our combined leaving
was the logical choice.
Curiosity got the better of me as I followed signs along E. 17th
Street that led to a new development just at the base of Panorama Hill, way out
in East Orange. It was so far out of town that roosters could be heard crowing
throughout the old El Modena neighborhood.
Unshaven, dressed in a ratty t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops, I
toured the models and discovered a unit that I might just be able to afford.
Within two hours I was writing a hot check, all the while
explaining to the banking rep that this retainer would be good by Wednesday. He
just smiled and said to postdate it.
By Tuesday, I had begged, borrowed and cajoled my way to come up
with the down payment, and then persuaded my boss to write a preposterous
letter saying that I would be due a bonus at the end of the year. The bank said
I needed said bonus to swing the deal. The boss agreed to write the letter on
the condition that he be invited to the housewarming. He also reminded me that
there really was no bonus coming my way at the end of the year.
Escrow closed in twenty-six days and by Thanksgiving I suddenly
found myself with a new home, and a thirty-year mortgage. But it all made
sense, I told my four-legged friends, as I had been born in Orange, after all,
so why not try it out again after a thirty year absence. Besides, I further
informed them, there were no rules in the association's bylaws restring any
kind of pet.
So, we had made a successful escape and began a new adventure.
This was a fine starter home, I reassured the dog and cat as we
wandered both inside and out - we might actually stay here for the next three-to-five
years.
Although that turned out not to be the case, as I extended my
stay (by just a bit), the boss did come to the housewarming. He got roaring
drunk but told me I had made a fine investment.
We toasted to that.
And as also promised (sadly), there was no monetary bonus by
year's end – just the dawn-breaking crowing of roosters - oh, and wild birds -
lots and lots of birds of all sizes - most of which I had no idea as to what
they were called. But that particular lack of knowledge would be remedied over
time.
And it turns out that the smallest of those birds like it here
as much as I do.
And apparently David likes it here too, as
he has enriched my life for the last twenty-three years in this place we,
together, call home.
But the little guys outside (the ones who eventually replaced
all forthcoming dogs and cats), like to remind us that we're ALL in it together
for the long haul now - so don't even think of escaping to somewhere fancier, or
so they chide me each time I refill the feeders or show them a new photo of
them looking rather regal.
Am who am I to argue with such pretty logic, whether it be
large or small?
