My Little Pink Pony.

It started with a pink pony.
My second day in LA was my first day at CBS2.
My new Executive Producer asked me to do a story on his pink pony.
Nothing says LA like your boss has a pink pony.
It wasn’t his.
It lived down the street.
He lived at the Magic Hotel.
Down the street from the Magic Castle.
Neighborhood of pink ponies and the occasional porn shoot.
I did many…varied stories with Danny with the pony with the pink hair.
Once we found ourselves backstage at a jello wrestling match.
One of the ladies asked Danny to help with her pasties.
The man enjoyed his work.
And his life.
Occasionally he enjoyed life so much he forgot work.
CBS would send someone to bang on his door.
Danny’d yell “What day is it?”
He’d be told…Monday.
He’d say…ok.
And go to work.
He was proud of a chryon he wrote for a story on snow in Europe…
Icy London. Icy France.
When a bombshell actress was cremated Danny’s caption was…
What a Piece of Ash.
When he was in the hospital we’d sneak him pastrami and chopped liver.
He’d tell the nurses we were trying to kill him.
Danny was the least PC and most hilarious human.
In my family the person who made me laugh was my Aunt.
When my Grandma gave birth she vaguely recalled the doctor telling her “It’s a girl.”
When she woke they brought her a boy.
My Grandmother said…”I’m pretty sure I had a girl.”
My Aunt says the nurses grabbed the first girl they saw.
And that she was raised in the wrong family.
That she was actually a princess or a gypsy.
Something far more exotic than us.
I found her exotic.
She had black wall paper in her bathroom and avocado colored appliances in her kitchen.
I was a kid in NYC.
Not sure I knew what an avocado was.
She had a cat that sat atop her avocado fridge.
It slapped everyone who walked by.
God forbid you try to open the fridge.
My aunt would cheer the cat on.
She was hilarious and sarcastic.
Since I’m somewhat sarcastic too…
Perhaps we do belong in the same family.
My Aunt and Danny both died.
Danny this week.
My Aunt last week.
People always say life is short.
It is.
But we forget.
We don’t remember to embrace each moment.
But hopefully we cherish a few.
I saw Danny two weeks ago.
He was in the hospital.
I didn’t bring him pastrami.
But I did sit with him and hold his hand.
Two years ago I took my Mom on a road trip to see my Aunt.
Two woman in their nineties still arguing about who stole whose clothes.
For me the world has lost some color.
But I’ll always have that avocado kitchen and that f-ing pink pony.