Kobe

When I heard the news of Kobe Bryant's death, my first instinct was to call my father. My dad died back in October and we'd always bonded over the Lakers. I yearned for his voice to help me make sense of Kobe's passing.
     I spent the next week immersed in news articles, sports talk and Kobe YouTube clips. I spent hours on the phone with friends commiserating and speculating on the cause of the accident. I drove to Staples Center and walked among thousands of grieving Lakers fans. No one wanted to accept reality. 41-year Kobe Bryant, Los Angeles's favorite son, was gone and he was not coming back.
     Kobe was complicated.  He was brash and petulant and often rubbed people the wrong way. There was the sexual assault accusation in Colorado and the feud with Shaquille O'Neal. In the 2006 playoffs against Phoenix, Kobe refused to shoot costing the Lakers the game in order to prove that his teammates were awful. His own coach Phil Jackson wrote that Kobe "was uncoachable."
     Kobe was a basketball prodigy. His skill set was unmatched and his work ethic legendary. To watch Kobe play basketball was like watching Baryshnikov dance or Bobby Fischer play chess. His jump shot was elegant, his footwork sublime. He was a tactical master able to exploit opponent weaknesses and psych out rivals with Jedi-level trash talk. Unlike anyone since Michael Jordan, Kobe's strength was his tenacity and willingness to do whatever was necessary to win a game. This is why Lakers fans loved him. He gave everything he had and became an on-court role model for how to live life with passion and commitment.
     The day Kobe died Los Angeles had it's heart ripped out. People were dazed and confused. Kobe was like a superhero. He can't die. If he dies, what chance do the rest of us have? Everyone was glued to their phones waiting for news updates. When the revelation came that Kobe's daughter also died, people lost it.
     Speculation immediately arose about the cause of the accident. The morning was foggy. Law enforcement helicopters were grounded. Yet Kobe's pilot was given permission to fly. Everyone I spoke with asked the same question. Did Kobe urge the pilot to fly despite the dangers? This seemed like a Kobe move. Or did the pilot himself feel pressure to please his A-List client?
     It was reported that Kobe and his daughter received communion at an Orange County church prior to the accident. This prompted a friend to suggest that Kobe accomplished his duties on earth and was being called back to God. But what about his daughter, I asked. "Sometimes people get swept up in the energy field of others." My friend, like everyone else, was trying to make sense of the senseless.
     Watching an interview with Tracy McGrady on ESPN, I heard a story about Kobe's early days. McGrady shared how 17-year old Kobe predicted his future in the NBA, how he'd win multiple championships, win MVP and score more points than Michael Jordan. All of these things came to fruition. Then McGrady added a coda. Kobe used to say, "I want to die young. I want to be immortalized."
     When I heard McGrady's words, I thought of the biblical passage about the power of the spoken word. "The tongue has the power of life and death." Kobe's will was indomitable. Combined with his passion, he was able to impress upon his subconscious a vision of fame and success. He spoke his future into existence. Did his statement about dying young play a part in his destiny?
     Kobe always wanted to be better than Michael Jordan. His primary competitor in this regard was Lebron James. The night before the accident, Lebron eclipsed Kobe's career scoring total. Kobe was gracious, tweeting "Much respect my brother" (his final tweet). Less than twelve hours later Kobe was dead. The sequence of events is surreal. Lebron breaks Kobe's record threatening Kobe's pursuit of immortality. Kobe dies in a tragic accident and his name is immortalized forever.
     Like my friends, I've been struggling to process the tragedy. Kobe brought me so much joy his death was like losing a friend. I've always yearned for life to make sense. Kobe's death makes no sense. We're all going to die. This is a fact that unites us and gives life meaning. Maybe the only lesson is to appreciate every moment since we don't know when our final day will come. (6" x 7", black ink print)

LA Freeway

On the night of June 23, 1997, boxer Oscar De La Hoya was driving his brother's Mercedes on the 605 Freeway near Whittier. He was in the fast lane and suddenly the car stalled.  He maneuvered the car to the left shoulder but couldn't find his cell phone.  Common wisdom dictates that if your vehicle stalls on the freeway you should wait in the car and call for help.  De La Hoya felt differently.  He opened the car door, waited for a gap in traffic and sprinted across five lanes to the other side of the freeway.  Moments later a massive truck smashed into his Mercedes totaling the car.

All Angelenos have stories of witnessing horrific car accidents or being caught in nightmare traffic jams.  To live in Los Angeles one must make peace with the freeway.  You learn to accept the gridlock and reckless drivers, the ramshackle cars and ever-prowling highway patrol.  In a city that clearly delineates the haves from the have-nots, freeways are the last bastion of true democracy.  Whether you drive a Rolls-Royce or a broken-down Chevy, all drivers have equal access to the freeway.

Charles Bukowski wrote, "When I drive the freeways, I see the soul of humanity of my city and it's ugly, ugly, ugly."  The unwritten rule of freeway driving is to drive aggressively.  Traditional defensive driving is not enough. To signal before a lane change is to guarantee the car behind you will not let you in.  The trick is to quickly change lanes then hit your turn signal as if to say, "That's right man, I just cut you off."

Observing the speed limit is an unforgivable sin.  Posted speed limits are simply suggestions and most people drive 10-15 mph over the limit when traffic is flowing. Tailgating is like a religion on LA freeways.  It's not uncommon to see drivers riding each other's bumpers at 75 mph knowing that a sudden stop would be fatal. Driving LA freeways is like swimming in the ocean.  Everybody does it despite the riptides and sharks and large waves that occasionally claim lives.

Locals refer to the freeways by their route numbers as in "take the 405 to the 101." Each freeway has a distinct character and flavor.  The 405 is the busiest freeway in the world known for its unrelenting traffic jams.  This was the route OJ took during his infamous white Bronco chase and the freeway subject to the Carmageddon closure in 2011.  Driving the 101 is like taking a trek through old Los Angeles.  You pass the Hollywood Bowl, the Capital Records building, the iconic Western Exterminator offices and city hall.  The 5 links Los Angeles to Orange County and is know for its battered roads, narrow lanes and monster traffic jams.

In total, the LA freeway system spans 528 miles.  They are the defining architecture of Los Angeles and as Joan Didion wrote in her novel Play It As It Lays, the freeway is "the only secular communion Los Angeles has."

The history of freeways in the United States is tied to Los Angeles.  In 1901, the Pacific Electric Railroad created a public transit system known as "the Red Car." With its bright red streetcars, the Red Car line was the primary means of transport for people getting around Los Angeles.  It covered 25% more track mileage than New York City's subway line today.

As automobiles became cheap and plentiful, the Red Car began to lose ridership.  Vehicle congestion on local streets became a problem and urban planners spoke about "magic motorways" soaring above and through Los Angeles.  Fearing a loss of control over local commerce, the Southern Pacific Railroad (who owned the Pacific Electric Railroad), lobbied hard against freeway construction.

It took the Automobile Club of Southern California releasing the 1937 Traffic Survey to sway political opinion.  The Survey recommended extensive motorways with cloverleaf interchanges, on-ramps, off-ramps and elevated highways.  Only cars would be allowed though initial plans called for light rail tracks in center lanes.  The roads would be called freeways ("free of charge") to distinguish them from "toll ways" that cost money.

The first Los Angeles freeway, the Arroyo Seco Parkway, opened in 1940. The six-lane, eight-mile long road linked Pasadena and downtown Los Angeles. The route reduced travel time between the two cities from 27 minutes to 12 minutes.  The original speed limit was 45 mph and the road was designed to carry 27,000 cars per day.  Today, it carries more than 125,000 cars daily.

LA's second freeway, the Hollywood Freeway (the 101) also opened in 1940. Connecting the San Fernando Valley to Hollywood and downtown, the 101 made it easier for people to live in the suburbs and work in the city. Construction required the acquisition and demolition of thousands of homes and buildings via eminent domain.  Among the structures destroyed were Rudolph Valentino's house in Whitley Heights and Los Angeles High School near downtown.  Rubble and debris were dumped in Chavez Ravine, the future home of Dodger Stadium.

After World War II, pro-freeway sentiment prevailed.  In 1947, California passed the Collier-Burns Highway Act that included a 1.5 cent statewide fuel tax for freeway construction.  By 1950, the Red Car line was formally disbanded.

In 1953, a four-level interchange was completed where the 101 connects to the 110 (Harbor Freeway). This was the first stack freeway in the world.  Los Angeles became the model for freeway development and "the stack" became a symbol of local pride.

In 1956, President Eisenhower signed the Federal Aid Highway Act.  The law authorized $25 billion for construction of a nationwide interstate highway system.  LA freeway construction took off and soon the city had the 405 (1960), the 134 (1960) and the 605 (1964).  Plans also called for a Beverly Hills Freeway linking the 10 to the 101 via La Cienega and Laurel Canyon. Wealthy locals protested and killed the idea.  In contrast, freeway construction through Latino neighborhoods in Boyle Heights, East LA and Lincoln Heights displaced more than a quarter-million people.

The 1973 oil crisis raised fuel prices and increased interest in mass transit. Popular opinion turned against new freeway construction.  Proposition 13 enacted in 1978 further reduced available freeway funds.  The last new freeway to be built in Los Angeles was the 105 (Century Freeway) opening in 1993.

In 1997, the Los Angeles Times reported about bizarre items found on local freeways.  These included $7,000 in quarters on the 101 in 1982; thousands of pounds of M&M's on the 57 (Orange Freeway) in 1986; 14,000 pounds of salsa on the 5 in 1987; and a body from the back of a coroner's van on the 101 in 1989.

In 1969, chickens began appearing on the side of the Hollywood Freeway near Universal Studios.  Apparently, a poultry truck overturned and freed thousands of birds.  Passing motorists killed many of the hens but a colony survived and made homes in the roadside shrubbery.  In the late 70's, the Department of Animal Regulation corralled more than 100 chickens and shipped them to a Simi Valley ranch.  A few chickens eluded capture.  The so-called "Hollywood freeway chickens" can still be seen on the 101 today.  (7" x 9", black ink print)