I’m back home in California at my parents’ house. It’s always strange coming back to my childhood home, especially as a middle-aged father of six, but it’s good to be home.
We arrived at 2:00 in the morning the night before last, and my dad and I ended up talking for a good hour about life and love. We talked about the tension in my house regarding my disbelief in Mormonism. Although my father chooses to stay in Mormonism, he understands where I am and why I have left my faith behind. “Religion is a philosophy by which you approach life,” he said, “but Mormonism wants more than that. It insists on a rigid set of rules governing how you live your life. That’s never been for me.” Nor for me. I’m glad he understands me and doesn’t judge.
On the subject of my book, he told me that I shouldn’t budge on letting my wife edit out the “offensive” parts. “The book is what it is, and letting someone else take out what you wrote would be a crime.”
Yesterday we spent the day at Zuma Beach, and it was perfect. It’s Santa Ana wind season, when hot winds push southward from the Mojave Desert into the city. The winds bring high temperatures and dry conditions perfect for brush fires (hence the big fires earlier this week). But when it’s this hot (96 yesterday) and dry, the beach is marvelous: 77 and clear. It felt so good to dive under waves and bodysurf to the shore. Today we’re doing the “tourist” things that I hate, but my kids want to see “Hollywood,” whatever that is or used to be. My oldest daughter is headed with Grandma to the Getty Museum. I’m so jealous.