For a few years mom’s heard about the light show that we observe from our roof in the hills of Northeast Los Angeles every July 4th. This year she decided to visit, bringing my father along for the first time in over two years.

Mandatory disclaimer time: yes, we’re still the lone two people on Earth taking the serious threat of Covid seriously while vaccinated but unmasking friends and family suffer with lingering vocal chord damage, tremors, fatigue, “new and permanent bronchitis and loss of lung function,” permanent loss of taste and smell, brain fog” ….and more! (get infected today folks for the low low price of…your life!) This meant mom and pop practicing avoidance and masking before and during the trip. Dad even tested out my new Envo reusable mask (I’ll use it for the first time in September).

They arrived Wednesday night so we didn’t have anything planned until the holiday, in which we needed to kill a whole day’s worth of time before the show would start after sunset.

Actually “the show” started weeks ago, as our neighbors for miles around began terrorizing the dogs with loud noises as soon as the illegal markets put out their wares at some point in late May or early June. However, on the 4th it would not be random flashbangs scattering the corners of the broader basin, it would be all over town and constant for hours.

We’d previously enjoyed a similar spectacle for ten years at our condo beside the 101 with a bird’s eye view of the Hollywood Bowl show, but that required a steep hike up a mountain then along a ridge and sharing the small space with everyone else (see: rowdy kids and rowdier drunk adults). It’s much easier to just walk up a flight of stairs, though the professional shows are farther away now, with the Dodger Stadium show on the far left horizon.

We went back to our old neighborhood in the morning, hiking the easy Innsdale Drive walk under the Hollywood sign just east of our old condo.

That green thing is on the map as “the last house on Mulholland,” which looks like a public instagram spot, but strangely is actually a privately owned and blocked (with trespassing signs) event space rented out occasionally.

After the hike we took a Siesta at home before re-emerging in the late afternoon to visit Salazar (dad’s first, mom’s second) for tacos. After Salazar we visited Pazzo Gelato so dad (and everyone but mom) could experience s’mores and Ube flavored gelatos.

It’s important to note that the hiking time was reduced on this trip because of a recent bit of bad luck incurred by my father’s foot. They never found out what stung or burned or infected his foot but it was still not back to full strength by the time they left Ohio so we capped the walking around a mile for him each day.

With still more time to kill before the main event the other three of us took a walk in the neighborhood while dad watched Love Death + Robots for the first time.

Around 9pm we poured wine glasses and ascended the stairs.

Dad and Sam had enough of the noise by around 9:30, but Mom stayed up there with me until almost 10 (1am Ohio time).

This year Sam emboldened me to actually stand on our roof (above the deck) to get higher up shots.

I collapsed my tripod around 10, but the fireworks went on until about 4 in the morning, and they had spurts here and there for the next three nights.

On Friday we drove out to Malibu, revisiting Pescadero State Beach at Mom’s request. Last time I didn’t bring my real camera. I don’t remember surfers last time either.

You know what we did after the beach. What we always do when dad visits: Malibu Seafood for fried oysters. Usually I get the fish and chips, but I decided to go healthier (their fish and chips aren’t the best anyway, honestly) and get the grilled fish and potato salad. Turns out their potato salad is surprisingly good (what?!).

When we got home we got a narrated tour of my paternal ancestry via a cache of recently discovered and scanned family photographs from the early 20th Century featuring my dapper grandmother and grandfather in the roaring 20s. My takeaway from the archives was that everyone vaguely related to me got married at the same barn back then, predating the hipster marriage trend by almost a century.

On Saturday we set out to visit estate sales. Last time mom was here (and dad wasn’t) we found a coffee cup for his collection used by Mary Hart herself. There weren’t that many sales because of the holiday weekend, but somehow at one in Beverly Hills I made my first score. The house was full of weird stuff like fake Oscars and tourist shop “Hollywood” gimmicky toys (like fake plastic movie cameras). I noticed two different Travis Louie prints on the wall, unpriced by the estate people, and multiple pop art sculptures that the estate people must have thought were just kids toys. Then I saw a stack of bagged comics on a table with a bunch of other junk (Christmas ornaments, plastic cutlery, etc.), with Ren and Stimpy #5 on the top.

I had bought issue #3 new at release, so I knew this comic, in near mint condition, was over 30 years old. I nonchalantly perused the other issues underneath, the rest being Simpsons related Bongo titles, all early issues – arriving ultimately at Simpsons #1. Although my childhood collection had only a few “comedy” related entries, I recognized these issues from my tours of the online collecting communities. They could be worth more than my cherished and protected for decades Image, Valiant, Ultraverse, etc. early issues that turned out to be churned out by the millions.

As disinterested as I could, I asked one of the estate people what they’d let them go for. They took a look at them, noticed that a few had price tags of 3.99 on the bags, and said “$3 each?”

We meandered around the house a bit more and when ready for checkout the lady looked over our stuff and got a puzzled look on her face. She took the comic books and then went to find the other guy. At this point I was sure the jig was up and the price was about to shoot up. But no, “how much did you say these were?” “3 bucks” “okay, so…that’s 9 at 3, so 27”

And away we went. At home I would discover they were all in near mint condition and still had the original posters, cards, etc. They actually didn’t look like they’d ever been opened or read, just kept in a box by a smart collector. Probably a child of the home owner who’ll realize one day their collection was given away… oh well, they’ll realize it when inheriting a piece of real estate worth 8 figures so I’m not feeling too guilty about it. On a bad day the comics would be worth about $300. On a really good and professionally graded day (auction) they might be worth over $800. Even in average condition the Simpsons #1 is worth more than I paid for the whole lot combined.

On the way home we stopped at Whole Foods because they were having an ice cream half off sale. This was mostly an opportunity for me to clean out their stock of Uli’s roasted sesame seed flavor. Very few can get this flavor right outside of Japan. We’ve been fans and customers since visiting their first store downtown every month on the Art Walks a decade ago. Anyway, the Uli’s, and Jenny’s and others’ were mixed up for an ice cream social once we got home.

Later we got fish tacos at Highland Park’s Via Mar.

On Sunday we tried estate sailing again in woodland hills, but the results were underwhelming. My parents enjoyed the car show on the way back, getting up close to a purple Lamborghini Huracan (my mom’s favorite) and an Orange McLaren. The Lambo had New York plates, but it’s this car, so maybe we can just let mom drive it herself the next time she’s in town?

After more ice cream and homemade tacos we took to the streets again, this time with dad, but finished our day early as they were flying out in the morning.