One day, I'm going to write a book called "Messages My Mother Sent Me." It will be the PG version of that terrible show "S#it My Dad Says." (How did CBS think this show was going to last with that title?)
I got a Facebook message from my mother informing me that her cousin had died and without going into the logistics, she had been dead for a while before the police broke through her door.
When I first moved to Los Angeles in 2000 with Kipp, Amy and Summer, we moved into a home that on paper was a steal. Huge property. Home and guest house. $1,800 a month. Split four ways, it was nice. None of us had jobs to begin our journey, so it was fine.
But we all noticed some burnt sage sitting in the window sill of every room. When asked, we were told through disclosure, "the woman who lived here was one of the Warner brothers (THAT Warner Bros) secreteries. She had retired. (long pause) She died in that (what would become MY) bedroom."
Sad story. Woman dies in a house. So. Um. How did she die?
"Well... she was... well, see... the mailman found her...."
Uh. Okay. Remember to send him cookies at Christmas.
"And... he noticed the mail piling up..."
So how long had she been dead?
"Three weeks."
Three week. Twenty one days, Jesse (as we came to call her "grandma") had been dead in my soon to be bedroom before someone NOTICED.
Needless to say, Jesse's very strong presence was felt in our eighteen hundred a month. Doors would slam shut. Amy's damned cats would stare off at nothing, then flee from the room like their tails were on fire. People would claim to see "flashes." Basically, old girl didn't leave 10627 Huston Street. And I was totally fine with it. She died in my room and for some reason, I feel a connection to her. A sadness. We all did.
We had an incredible landing at that home. We all moved from LA with all our possessions in a U-Haul and found an amazing home. After we moved out, the entire lot was bulldozzed for a new condo building. (The house sat one block east of Vineland on Huston St. in North Hollywood.) Summer and I began careers at Central Casting. Kipp began a career as an actor.
I never considered having a child. It wasn't in my paradigm. And frankly if you were to hand one to me today, I couldn't afford one. BUT... I know as sure as my name is Chad that in the next few months, everything in my life is going to change. Money can't buy you happiness, but it doesn't hurt. And I know with every fiber in my being that my life is about to change.
We're close to selling MORTIFIED, my pilot. And I have three other features ready to sell. I know that the eventual purchase of MORTIFIED will send vultures upon me. And those vultures will sell THE MARKED, HELL HOUSE, and hopefully KENT STATE. I'm in the process of revamping the JOEY STEFANO script. And I have two other pilots to take out after we sell MORTIFIED. I'm living a charmed life. Everything I ever wanted is about to break.
But child and partner never were part of that equation.
And now... it's like a switch got thrown in my head. Not only is it, "hmm... maybe I could have a child," it's "I NEED TO HAVE A FAMILY RIGHT NOW!" And I would be lying if this motivation didn't come from the visual of me face down on my kitchen floor for two weeks before someone noticed. Granted, I can't go missing today for 4 hours before a search party has been scrambled, but I can't guarantee that 30 years from now.
I don't want to be the guy that died alone in his home and was unnoticed for three weeks before the mailman noticed the mail piling up.
And I'm so excited. Because I know it's coming. It's coming fast and it's coming furious.
And it's going to be amazing.
