It was a nice little cottage style house, located in West LA, more fitting for Santa Monica Beach but nonetheless, land locked by the Mormon Temple to the west, apartments on the east and high rises to the north. It sat quietly unobtrusive behind a swath of evergreens and azaleas on the top of the hill. Surrounded by California pepper trees, it seemed out of place for the neighborhood. Just off Santa Monica Boulevard, it was conveniently close for the crowd that it beckoned, writers, artists, musicians. Bohemian souls all. Much like the soul of the house.
The garden played host to many days and nights of soft music, good friends, and good times. The barbeque more oft grilling delectable dishes than stationary, the old sofa nestled snuggly against the white washed wall covered in candle sconces. An over-stuffed papisan calling comfort amongst the jasmine and gardenias, ready for a fragrant nap on a mid summers day. On quiet nights the house rested, silent in its warming welcome to all those who lay within. When asked, the various visitors would surely comment the same, it is home.
The occupants enjoyed the solitude the home provided from the city, the only intrusion; the occasional truck rumbling by on Manning. The evergreens belied the truths laying just beyond their reach, keeping the spirit of the home contained for its chosen guests. The occupants, an unlikely pair, from different generations, different cultures and different views of life, but brought together by one common bond, their love for each other. A love they shared with their guests and their visitors. Jonah had the experience of a lifetime, at 45 years, he was well versed in the ways of the world. Living life at various times, in various countries of the world, and in different classes and means. From being down trodden to living affluence in the arms of royalty. Teo a mere twenty three, just out of college, an English major who had led a somewhat sheltered life until the beginning of his college career.
Jonah and Teo met by course, such that Jonah had barely noticed, and had it not been for Teo’s persistence, Manning Place would not have been. Jonah spent much of his time in the garden or puttering: placing a new string of lights on the patio, or installing the solar tea lights for ambience. Teo would observe Jonah as he putzed, watching silently – smiling to himself. He loved to watch Jonah work. For a man of forty-five, Jonah had kept himself in shape, except for the smoking. Jonah would hum or sing along to the music that was a constant at Manning as he worked. Teo had introduced Jonah to the Bohemian Lifestyle quite accidently, not even realizing his own Bohemian-ness, until Jonah identified it as they laid quietly in each other’s arms after one of the informal music gatherings. The guests all nestled throughout the house, leaving Jonah and Teo time to enjoy the quiet pre-dawn hours.
A writer and a photographer in a life lived many years prior, Jonah counseled Teo on the elements of Bohemia. The fundamentals of the principals and the beliefs held by those true to the faith, Teo listened intently, knowingly, acceptingly. The conversation continued as the first rays of the new day slowly crept through the slats in the bamboo fence surrounding the patio. The golden hue slowly rose across Teo’s face, giving his Vietnamese skin a soft golden pallor. Jonah watched as the rising sun transformed the intimacy of the night into another day of lazing. He would let his kids slumber for now, the kids of his Bohemian enclave. He had grown to love each in their own manner, as a father loves his own children, admiring their qualities, accepting their faults. He would protect each as his own, and counsel each in their separate ways. This time they would carry with them for the rest of their lives, this time that would shape their existence, and their very being. None realized the subtle formations being shaped by the guru of Manning Place, but each would feel it in their own time, much as Teo had felt it in the years he had grown to know Jonah. Teo knew this as well, as Jonah would counsel or reprimand one of the guests, he would watch as the guest listened intently, smiling to himself with the recognition that one only gains from personal experience.
Days or weeks would pass, sometimes months, the guest would return with the elements of the lecture firmly in place, understanding the meaning and placing in practice the purpose. They would come, some acknowledging, some not understanding, but they would return. Teo would watch these interactions, taking the lessons to heart and practicing the forms and principals. Jonah acted and spoke not with superiority or malice, only as observations. He understood that the guests would take what they needed and leave the rest for others. He spoke from love and care, this the guests knew, and accepted his platitudes. Having lived his life, successfully at times, but more oft, unsuccessfully and with great struggle, Jonah did not judge, instead he nudged and showed paths.
As Teo and Jonah sat on the old sofa, gazing at the sky as it transformed from black to navy then to a pale blue, George made his way through the open glass doors. Teo’s eyes were closed in a soft slumber, George smiled as Jonah acknowledged him with a nod. He looked down at Teo laying in Jonah’s lap, “ I love it here, I never want to leave.”
“Thanks.” Was the only response Jonah would offer. Both knew that George would leave in a few hours for another long absence as he studied dentistry in San Francisco. “I’ll fix you breakfast in a bit.”
George gleamed, this was an unspoken tradition of Manning Place; the old sage would always send his charges into the world with a full fete, whether it be breakfast or supper. George’s preference was breakfast. Jonah loved to provide this service to his guests, especially to George. Of all the guests, George had a special place, mostly due to his closeness to Teo, and thus, Jonah treated him with a regard shared by no others.
Jaunty-Rabbit 