Today would have been Mom's 68th birthday.
Not a day goes by that I don't think about and miss my best friend and mentor.
Brian has a lovely post and photos of her.
Meanwhile, I spent the day yesterday being tutored one on one by an amazing Polish cinematographer who almost shot Martin Scorcese's daughter's first feature and wants to shoot mine...pretty cool. It was already crazy day, because we just officially went into preproduction on The Commune on Monday, for a start date in September.
Why bring this up on Mom's Birthday?
It's why she busted her ass to get us back down here.
She told Brenda and me that she wanted to live in LA (translation: die in LA), which is the kind of trump card no child can say no to. So we all sold our houses and made a very scary journey down to LA while she was in a tentative remission. Bought her dream of a family compound minimansion and moved in together like the Brady Bunch.
The day we packed up the cars and drove down the I-5, they dropped me off half an hour late for my first screenwriting class in the Professional Program at UCLA.
On her deathbed, I found out Mom didn't want to live in LA. She didn't want to see me rot and die in Santa Rosa.
Thanks Mom. You're the Executive Producer of The Commune. And all my movies.