remembering oakridge

Many years ago I knew someone who lived in Oakridge, the trailer home development that was severely damaged in the Sylmar fire. Her name was Lillian, and we considered her our ersatz grandmother. She didn't have any children of her own.

My Mom became friends with Lillian at work. They both worked for a company in Long Beach. Lillian was a civil engineer (the first woman in California in fact), and my Mom was a purchasing agent. When my Mom started the job, she had developed sun poisoning on her mouth. It looked awful. Lillian was one of the few people who talked to her, and they became friends.

Lillian's husband was wheelchair bound. One day he called her at work and said he couldn't take being a burden, and was going to kill himself. She didn't believe him until she came home to find him hanging from the ceiling. My Mom drove out to Diamond Bar and we spent the night with her. I only remember getting up at 5am so we could get to school on time. We stopped at McDonald's for breakfast, and I remember my Mom being ticked that I had ordered pancakes, which took too long to make. Still, I think we made it on time.

Lillian decided to sell her home and moved in with her brother, Brownie, in Downey. At first Brownie wasn't sure about my Mom. He worried that she might be using his sister to get to her money. I don't know when it happened, but Brownie did warm up to my Mom and we were welcomed in his home. We often spent the night, so we didn't have to drive home late at night.

One time we spent the night because our house had to be fumigated. I brought my parakeet with us. Brownie would sleep in his camper in the driveway when we were there, and for whatever reason he mentioned having a fire extingisher inside.

That night Lillian fell asleep on the couch. She had left a cigarette burning and it set the room ablaze. The smoke detectors did not go off. Instead, Brownie's dog, Suki, paced in front of the room where my Mom was sleeping. My Mom thought it odd behavior for the dog and so got up to find the living room on fire.

After she woke Lillian up, she went outside to wake Brownie and get the fire extingisher. They got the fire out, and moved the charred duvan out to the patio. My sister and I slept through the entire ordeal. When we awoke the next morning it smelled terrible. I remember asking who had burned the toast. My Mom about slapped me as she knew Lillian felt terrible and even though I wasn't being snide, was not helping.

Lillian was forced to move from her brother's home when he died suddenly of a heart attack. She had actually been planning on moving, and was looking at various options. She considered a dome home. The plan at one point was for all of us to move to Oregon, but that didn't happen. Instead she found the mobile home park in Sylmar. She was impressed with their design.

I had to admit I was impressed too. It wasn't like anything I had seen before in a mobile home. It wasn't made of tin. It had a garage and a yard! There was a nice kitchen and even a washer and dryer. There was also 24-hour security, and a guard at the gate. I remember it being a big deal when we were put on the list so that they didn't have to call Lillian when we drove up.

We spent quite a few weekends and holidays there. Lillian's other brother, Bart, and his wife would often join us. My sister and I slept in the den, which was off the living room at the front of the house. There was a TV that had HBO, so we usually stayed up watching TV. It was where I first saw the video for the song, "Fish Heads".

Bart snored loudly. He often slept in the living room. The first time we heard him my sister and I thought there was a bear in the house. To be fair Sylmar is pretty isolated and the development backed into the mountains. If Bart's snoring didn't keep us up, the winds did. I remember those winds whipping through the streets. It sounded like a howling wolf.

Lillian passed away while my sister and I were back east visiting our father and grandmother. We actually learned about Lillian while we were staying at our Aunt's house. My Mom didn't want us crying about it. By the time we returned it was like life had moved on, and although I know my Mom love Lillian dearly she rarely talked about her. She did keep a photo displayed in her bedroom of Lillian. In the photo Lillian is with a group of their old work friends at one of the parties they had had.


on the night stand :: Listening is an Act of Love