When our friends heard Rita and I were moving to the
Brentwood district of Los Angeles the jokes began. We didn’t have to be
reminded Brentwood was the home of O.J. Simpson and the controversial trial
that took place nearly 20 years ago. It had been mentioned in my novel THE
MOUNTING STORM—until a bright-eyed agent made me replace it with something less
controversial.
But
Brentwood doesn’t need any apologies. Brentwood is home. Brentwood is
beautiful. Brentwood is fun. And after 10 years of living next door in Santa
Monica, Brentwood is where two Philadelphians are going to enjoy the Southern
California experience to its fullest.
We
don’t have the Third Street Promenade where every kid in the world wants to
drag his parents and grandparents and spend the day shopping, eating, and going
to the latest Harry Potter flick. Brentwood is on a smaller scale. But we do
have a farmer’s market, a Whole Foods, a Ralph’s, a delightful library, and a
dozen terrific coffee shops, including the Café Literati, where laptops are
busy and photos of writers, living and dead, line the walls.
So we’re
saying goodbye to the television footage of that white Ford Bronco shooting
down the 411 freeway on its way to Mexico and being chased by a dozen police cruisers. Tom and Rita are here. And determined
to enjoy every delightful corner of the new Brentwood.
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