The Los Angeles Times from Los Angeles, California • F3

WAS scrolling throughFace- booknot too long ago, catch- ingupon the various and sundry things friendsweredoing.One postedphotos of views froma solo hike into the hills; another posted video of a stellarmusical performance filmed in her cozy living room.A third offeredpictures of a Covid-inspired art piece. Itwas of a solitary figure, standing in ahaze of what looked like anor- ange-hued fogwith barely discernible faces hovering in the air, out of focus andout of reach. Imarveled as I caught latest artistic endeavors, pleased that somanyhad found creative outlets for the surrealway of life thrust uponus since so muchof theworld shut downonMarch19.Aday that happens tobemy birthday. (And to think thatwhen I blewout the candles onmycake those monthsback, I silently wished for less stress.) Living inLosAngeles, Iwasused to a topsy- turvy life.Nightmare traffic, absurdly high housing costs, restau- rants that ranged from God-awful to divine and weather that has you bundledup in faux fur in themorning andpool- side come the afternoon. Iwas also used to a life peopledby artists from seemingly every disci- pline.

LosAngeles is a textbook company town, andnearly everyone I knewworked in the en- tertainment industry. Somewerewriters and actors, likeme.Others were editors, costumers, makeupartists, produc- ers, directors. Almost everyone lived inL.A. because they aspired tomore of a career thanHometown, U.S.A., could offer.We put upwith an insane life, one of atmospheric highs and subterranean lows, to pursue ourdreams. Andalmost all of us workeda rainbowof maintenance and service day ta- bles, detailing cars, tend- ingbars, cateringparties tomaintain a life in anunforgivingly expen- sive city in order to be presentwhen came in.

Thoughmy friends and Idancedaround these interconnected career loops, I rarely, if ever, saw themoutside work, either our day jobs or the industry jobswe landedwhenwewere lucky.We lived in various parts of theL.A. sprawl, andmost of us spent our personal timeon the career-path treadmill, with and thedaily search for artistic employment. time left for socializing. But it we saweachother at work.The very nature of these jobs allowed for abundant socializing. Work allowedus to keep in touchandup todate with highs, lows and celebratedbirthdays in the kitchenandgave backpats of congrats at the coffee station on landing a gig or hugs of supportwhile passing eachother in thehallway whenagig fell through.

Wewere there for each other. We shareda true communal love affair. Thismay sound bizarre to anyonenot in the arts, but a love affair iswhat itwas. For those in entertain- ment or the arts, there is no 9-to-5 job, consistent and secure, to greet you every day.There is no pre-set career path laid out before youwith obvi- ous steps fromentry- level to topof theheap. There are nopaidholi- days, nobonuses, noth- ing remotely resembling security.

The only com- fort and security is being wrapped in ablanket of others in the sameposi- tion, a collective of fellow dreamers providing desperately needed emotional support, any time, day or night. Pro- viding love. But likemost love affairs, I really see or appreciate it until it was over. Sincemybirthday, since Imade that damn wish over that cake, I seen a single one of these friends. Filmand televisionproduction stopped, partieswere canceled, restaurants closed andbars shutter- ed.

Every avenue of in- come, fromhigh-paying industry gigs tomin- imum-wage-plus-tips serving jobs, disap- pearedovernight. Since that con- tactwithmanyof these friendshasbeen through InstagramorFacebook, assumingwehadalready connected there. A chill slithereddown myspinewhen I first realized I even know the full nameof manyofmy cohorts.We were all on a first-name basis seconds after being introduced.When your first how-do-you-do is followedmoments later bybeing thrown into the trenches ofwork, no timeor reason for last names and family his- tory. And yet, between passinghors andpouring coffee, we sharedourdeepest of dreamsanddarkest of fears.With the sharing of dreamsandnightmares nowexclusively online, howcould I possibly find and connectwith some- onewhen the only search criteria I hadwas a first many there are if I lucked into finding a few, I possibly fill the physical void that grew more vastwith every passingday. Besides, posts and arewoefully inad- equate substitutes for hugs.

Oneday as I scrolled throughpost after post, I noticed thatmanyof thesework friends are not just socially dis- tanced fromme.They are nowphysically distant as well.Withnoway topay L.A. cohorts had fled town, spreading out to the corners of the Earth in search of a place to livewithout fear of eviction. Apangbounded throughmyheart. I realized likely never seemanyof themever again. Certainly not in theway I hadbefore.

Somewere a county or so away, otherswere at the other endof the country. A couple of themhad fled theStates altogether. All haddependedupon the gargantuanhospitality job segment of theLos Angeles economy, a segment almost com- pletely shut down since March. Evenwhena few restaurantswere allowed topartially re-openwith Micah Fluellen Los Angeles Times I Wish youwere here. With love, yourwork friend JUST ANOTHER THING THE PANDEMIC TOOK FROM US DEEP, FULFILLING, NOURISHING RELATIONSHIPS ON THE JOB BY KEVIN S.

ALLEN LATIMES.COM SBSE SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 2021 F3 outdoor dining, only one in100 jobs at best sur- vived. For cater-waiters, likeme, therewas abso- lutely nothing. Even in abest-case scenario, a super-duper vaccinewith lightning- fast distribution, itwill takemonths, probably years, for everything to return to some sem- blance of normal.How manyofmynow-de- parted friendswill be able to manydreamswill, or even can, survive the wait for theworld to get back on its feet? As I lookedatmy computer screen, I felt as though Iwere looking at a school yearbook from eons and captions of people I had lovedwhowerenow just memorieswaiting to fade.Wedidn’t evenhave the structure of class reunions to offer the chance to re-connect. I know the onlyway to healmyhurt is to recog- nize that it stems from the loss of love, for that is what it is. I loved these wonderful, crazy, irritat- ing, inspiringpeople, and my life is a shell without them.But there is an exit from thismaze.What I cando is grieve this loss as Iwould the loss of any love.

I canheal this hurt by acknowledging the painmywork absencehas caused. I can thenmove on fromthe painby celebrating the joy theybroughtme.The laughswe sharedaswe bused tables, the thrill we all feltwhen somebody got a gig, theFourth of Julys, Thanksgivings and Christmases spent to- getherworking. There is a hole inmy life the size of the uni- verse, but I trust always be so. I know that the love I freely gave and eagerly accepted iswait- ing to be given and taken again.Myworldwill once againbe re-populated with fellow journeymen, artists seeking to carve out a life inLosAngeles. When they appear, Iwill embrace them.

Iwill gleefully fall back into the supportive anduplifting armsof fellowartists. But Iwill domore than enjoy themoments spent in the physical companyofmy friends. Iwill treasure every one of them. Allen is anactor, creator andwriter on the animated series andauthor of theFilm He is on Instagram FRANCINE ORR Los Angeles Times The biggest news. The most vital stories.

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