I'm looking forward to attending a funeral tonight. I didn't even know I would be until recently, when I happened to catch the past couple episodes of Six Feet Under.
This is a show I've enjoyed since its launch on HBO. I'll admit that last season I wasn't a regular viewer, it had gotten to the point where it was the Dynasty of Death, and if I missed it... oh, well. But this season is its last, and if I miss I try to catch up.
I like what Heather Havrilesky of Salon has to say in No Narm Done - that "Watching these last episodes of the show sometimes feels like confronting the inevitability of death itself. It's frightening and horrible, but it also makes you aware of where you are, how you feel, and what you have right here and now."
Wowsa, heavy. But-oh-so-true.
Not to mention that Nate's final scene (where he plunges into the sea in his mind while he's flatlining in a hospital bed) was filmed at a place very, very, recognizable to me. I lived there. No lie.
Whoever does the locations for the show is fond of Big Sycamore, or as it's referred to now Sycamore Canyon Beach. It's a state park in Ventura County, about an hour north of Malibu.
It was eminent domained long ago, but to me it's "our beach." At one time there was a large mobile home park on the site with a pier, and my family had a "weekend" place until my parents decided to live there full-time. I think I mentioned before that my dad wanted to escape from L.A. Living at the beach was worth giving up a 3500 sq. ft. home for a double-wide. He made the commute down PCH long before it was fashionable.
So I'm watching Nate and David and the dead dad roll stoned out of the van onto the beach and I realize that's Castle Rock (where my sister once fell down the face, where I probably got stoned, too, and where I once watched a pod of whales frolic like I was at Sea World). And then Nate runs down a stretch of sand and into a curl that's as familiar to me as the curves on that highway.
It took a few moments to recover from a major character being offed on the show while watching scenery that personally means a lot. For a slew of memories (and for a time in my life that I shared with those who are now lost by the inevitability of death).
As I said before, tonight's the funeral. I'm not missing it.
Narm, indeed!
I've been in a funk since watching last night's episode. I hate that I'm so engaged with these fictional television characters, but hell, Jane Austen had going with Mr. Darcy. So, what's the diff?
Who will they off next? Someone else has to go...Ruth? Claire? Brenda?
Posted by: GraceD | August 08, 2005 at 06:02 PM
I enjoyed reading of your time at Sycamore Canyon. I have a couple of photos of the pier and a wrecked mobile home, circa 1971 that I can send along --
Posted by: bob pavlik | June 21, 2006 at 04:31 PM
fantastic!
Posted by: shaunna | June 21, 2006 at 06:32 PM