I headed west on the 10 freeway, exited on Robertson Blvd and then made a right on Venice Blvd toward the beach. I took a right on Watseka Avenue and parked in front of the Hare Krishna Temple. I took off my shoes and went inside. The doors were open and the deities of Sri Rukmini Dwarkadisha were on full display. The marble temple floor was cool and dry on my bare feet and the smell of rosewater and incense filled the air. My friend Clytie was sitting on the floor playing the harmonium and had already started chanting. I grabbed the mridanga drum off the shelf and sat down next to Clytie on the lotus flower shaped marble floor that my father had installed over 50 years ago. My friend Shiva arrived and picked up a pair of brass kartal cymbals and began to play. Clytie led the chant singing the words of the Bengali song. Shiva and I repeated them. A dozen Indian ladies, a few old men and a few soccer moms from the Veda Yoga Studio on Venice Blvd bowed down before the altar and then began to clap along. We all started to chant, and all these thoughts soon disappeared from my mind like the mist clearing from a grassy meadow with the morning sunrise.
There was a time when I could go through a fifth of Patron Silver in a night but between the 12 step meetings, rehabs and retreats I discovered that what I was really looking for was connection. Kirtan is the ultimate connection, sound that transcends time and space. When we read the words of an author who lived thousands of years ago we connect through time and space with that author and with all those people who have read those words and comprehended them. For example when you say the words “Vini, Vidi, Vici” you connect not only with Julius Caesar who spoke those words 2000 years ago also but with the countless people who have read these words or spoke them since that day. “I came, I saw, I conquered.” In this way when we chant we can connect with all those souls who have chanted in the past wherever they are now just as we connect with the author who wrote those words and the readers who read them.
Lord Chaitanya Mahaprubhu introduced Kirtan, the public chanting of the Hare Krishna Mantra, as an act of social protest against Islamic rule in Bengal, India. Chaitanya’s message was that God is present in His name and that by chanting this Maha (great) Mantra (mind-release) people of all faiths would be able to connect with God directly through the science of Bhakti Yoga. Bhakti means “love” and Yoga means “connect.” Each of us sees the world through the mirror of our own mind which is colored by Maya (illusion). Kirtan is the process of chanting these names that clear the dust from the mirror of the mind, the illusions of Maya. This allows us to connect to our natural state of bliss, Ananda. Through this process of chanting we can connect directly through time and space with the billions of great souls, those Mahatmas who have chanted these mantras and prayed before us in the past, present and the future.
After 30 minutes the Kirtan came to an end. The guests lined up at the altar to receive their blessings and we put away our instruments. Clytie, Shiva and I walked outside.
“Kiba Jaya Das!” Clytie said she gave me an ecstatic hug “Good to see you!” Kiba Jaya was the name given to me as a child. Kiba means spiritual. Jaya means victory.
“Good to see you too. How was the trip to Merry Old England” I replied. “It was fantastic.” Clytie answered. “My mother is doing so well and I got to go to the temple at the Manor, which is my favorite.”
Clytie was referring to the palatial estate that George Harrison had donated to Bhaktivedanta Swami the founder of the Hare Krishna Movement in the west and that was now home to the Bhaktivedanta Manor Radha Krishna Temple in London.
“You have to go to New Vrindavan this year. The next time we go you have to come” I told her.
“To West Virginia?” she asked timidly. She had heard stories about New Vrindavan. They were not good. I could see that she was not enthusiastic about the idea.
“Yes.” I replied. There is no place like it on earth in the spring. The trees and the lakes are so beautiful and there are wild peacocks roaming around.”
“Like at Old Malibu?” Clyie asked.
“Yes, like at Old Malibu.” I replied.
My phone rang but I silenced it. I don’t like to answer phone calls while I am having a conversation with someone so if you call me and it goes straight to voicemail that does not mean I am ignoring your call but that I am giving the person in my presence my undivided attention. Now my phone rang again and then again and so I decided to check it. I saw that I had 5 missed calls from Oliver.
“Hey Clytie, I really want to catch up but this is my friend Oliver from the Palisades and I need to call him back.” I said.
“I’ll see you later Kiba. Tell Lisa I said hello.”
“Tell Nick I said hi.”
“I will. Hari Bol Kiba Jaya!”
“Hari Bol Clytie Dasi”
Clytie and her husband Nick Nolte lived in Malibu near Zuma Beach. Nick and Clytie’s daughter Sophia was born the same year as our youngest son Brady, and they had been friends since they were 2 years old.
Nick Nolte, Brady Detamore
For years we would go to their house on Christmas Eve and they would come to our neighborhood to trick or treat on Halloween. Nick and Clytie lived in a wonderful place in Malibu that Nick had bought from Tommy Chong of the “Cheech and Chong” movies. It was actually the same property where the Eagles had recorded the album “Hotel California”. Nick had created a rock labyrinth of wonderful gardens there and for years he had allowed us to use his greenhouses to breed Grace Medical’s collection of the finest cannabis strains in the world.
We used these “mother” plants to make the clones that we provided to our growers to ensure a consistent supply of the essential medical strains. All these “mothers” were lost in the Malibu Fire of 2018 that destroyed most of the estate and almost all of Nick Nolte’s material possessions.
Malibu Grace before and after the fire.
After the fire, Clytie and their daughter Sophia had come to stay at our house with their 2 dogs Socrates and Charlie and 3 cats whose names I don’t remember. I had no idea then that history would repeat itself as it does time and time again and that 7 years later another person who lost everything in a fire would come to live with us.
Shiva and I walked towards the car. I pushed the button on the remote to unlock the doors. Shiva and I got in the van and closed the doors. I turned the key in the ignition and started the van. We pulled back on to Venice Blvd and headed west. Shiva pulled a glass pipe from the console. Then he pulled out a frosty green and purple bud and crushed it into the glass pipe. Shiva picked up a blue Bic lighter, struck the flame and lit the crushed flower in the bowl. As the purple flower burned Shiva took a long inhale before coughing out a giant cloud of smoke.
“Om Namah Shivaya” Shiva exhaled, reciting a prayer to Lord Shiva before handing the peace pipe to me.
I took a long breath from the pipe, felt the smoke filling up my lungs and then I exhaled.
“Om Namah Shivaya” I repeated, giving homage to lord Shiva the god of Destruction and Dance and the greatest devotee of Lord Krishna.
I dialed Oliver’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“Lieutenant, it’s bad.” Oliver said. “It’s getting smokey and the hound is getting nervous.”
I heard a little Bandit howling like a baby wolf. I looked at the time. It was 12:45, exactly an hour since I had seen the flames burning up the hillside on my way out. They should have put the fire out by now.
“How close is the fire to you now?” I asked.
“I don’t think it has crossed Sunset yet, but I heard that there is fire below me on Las Casas. I’ve got the hoses ready though. Bandit and I are ready to make a stand.” Oliver replied.
That did not sound good.
“Are there any fire trucks near you?” I asked him
“I haven’t seen any.” He answered.
“I think you should get out of there. You can come to my house if you want.”
“Uh Oh.” I heard him say.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“The electricity just went out.” Oliver sounded worried now and so was I now.
“That’s it. I want you to grab Bandit and get out of there now.” I commanded Oliver.
“”I can’t just leave, I haven't had time to get my stuff together.”
“You need to get out of there now. Come to my house. You can stay downstairs in Brady’s room. He can move upstairs with us. You’ll have the whole downstairs and the yard for Bandit. Just get out of there now.”
“Ok, I’m leaving now.” The phone went dead. I called Oliver back, but the phone went straight to voicemail. I handed the pipe to Shiva and texted my address to Oliver.
Shiva had been listening to the conversation and now wanted to know.
“Is his house going to be okay?” Shiva asked me, puffing on the bowl again.
“I have no idea.” I replied. I called Oliver back. Again, his phone went straight to voicemail.
“Do you think he’s really coming?” Shiva asked.
“He’s got fires burning on two sides of him and only one way out so I hope he’s on his way.” I answered.
“So do you have any deliveries or do you have time for lunch?” Shiva wanted to know.
“I was supposed to deliver to him but now I guess not.” I replied.
“Why don’t we go up on Culver Hill. We can see everything from there.
“Let’s go.” I took a left on Overland, and we headed south. We made another left on Washington and drove past Sony Studios before making another right on Duquesne. We drove past the Culver City Police Department and National Public Radio West before crossing Jefferson Blvd. We followed Duquesne Avenue up the hill past Culver City Park before parking at the top of the hill at Bill Botts Baseball Field. The smoke was still billowing from the side of the mountain but now it had spread across the sky and out over the ocean. To the right of us the sky was clear. To the left the sky was filled with black smoke.
My phone rang. It was Oliver. I answered it.
“What’s going on brother?”
“Well, I made it out of there and now I’m on Sunset Blvd. There are houses on fire on both sides of me. There are burned cars everywhere. I just drove through a wall of flames but there were no fire trucks anywhere.”
“Did you get my address?” I asked him.
“Yeah I’ve got it programmed into the GPS now. I’m heading your way. Hey, there’s a roadblock ahead. I’m going to get off the phone now.”
“ I’m on my home now. I’ll see you at the house.” I answered.
The line went dead.
“If you have to go you can drop me off at India Sweets and Spices. I’m going to have lunch there.” Shiva said.
“Alright. I’ve got to get the room ready for him.”
I put the van in reverse and backed out. We headed down the hill into Culver City.
Shiva had been a major ganja smuggler back in the day and was part of a ring that smuggled thousands of pounds of high-grade indoor grass from Vancouver, British Columbia into California and Hawaii back in the late 90’s and early 2000’s. Back then you could buy Canadian BC bud for $1500 a pound, hike it over the border and sell it for $4000 a pound in LA. In Hawaii it sold for up to $5000 a pound. I actually got into the Ganja smuggling business when Maha the guy Shiva was working with got ripped off and came to me for help.
Legalization had destroyed Shiva’s career as a smuggler and now he lived in an RV that he parked at the Sprouts/CVS shopping plaza on the corner of Venice and Exposition. He spent half of the year at his parents’ farm in Oregon but in the wintertime, he brought 20 pounds of homegrown weed down from Oregon and made it through the winter by selling it a few grams at a time to some of his old customers. Shiva was also one of the best mridanga drum players in the world and had played on my friend Karnamrita’s album “Dasi” which I think may be the best Kirtan album ever. Shiva and I had been playing the noon kirtan for years and talked about forming a Kirtan band. In the back of my mind I thought that if it all fell apart we could go on the road and make a living playing bhajans as a kirtanwalla. Lord Krishna says that if His devotee is sincere he then takes away everything so that he is completely dependent upon His mercy. Maybe that was Krisna’s plan to take away everything from me so I would be completely dependent on him. I shuddered at the thought and tried to put it out of my mind but the thought was always there.
I dropped Shiva off at India Sweets and Spices, hopped back on the 10 freeway, and headed West. I took the Cloverfield Exit and headed south toward Ocean Park Blvd. I made it home, parked the van and went inside to give my wife Lisa the news. Oliver would be coming to stay in our guest house. That meant Brady would have to move back upstairs into his old bedroom. Oliver had a little dog Bandit, and our two pit bulls Copper and Lola did not get along with other dogs and had to be kept away from him. The dogs would have to give up their yard to Bandit.
Lisa changed the sheets and the bedding while I cleaned the floor and emptied the trash cans.
My phone rang. It was Oliver.
“I’m downstairs.” He said.
“I’ll be right down.” I replied.
I walked through the yard and on to Navy Street and there he was. Oliver David Bane stood at 6’2 and 240 pounds. He was bald with a white goatee but now wore a brown digital camo American Flag hat that I had given him. He drove a tan Subaru Legacy with a Route 27 Montauk Highway bumper sticker on the right-hand side. In his right hand he held his dog Bandit like a football high and tight. Hanging loosely from his left hand was an old brown leather satchel.
“Do you need help with anything?” I asked him.
“No. I didn’t have time to grab much. Just my dog and my Jew bag.”
“I see that.” I couldn’t help laughing to myself.
On the show “South Park” Cartman claimed that all Jews carried a bag of gold around their necks. Oliver was born to the chosen people and now carried a leather satchel filled with rare gold and silver coins left to him by his father George Bane. Though he really did have a Jew bag Oliver did not follow the religion of his father who was Jewish but his mother who was a Roman Catholic. When I say that Oliver was a Catholic I do not mean that he attended any church. I don’t think Oliver had been inside a church or synagogue in decades so by Catholic I mean that Oliver drank wine and had accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior. I got Oliver settled in Brady’s room and a bed set up for Bandit. Then Oliver wanted to make a trip to Costco to buy supplies.
Oliver Bane at Costco in Marina Del Rey
After we got back from Costco, Oliver and I spent most of the night drinking Kirkland chardonnay, puffing on Gelato pre-rolls and watching the news coverage of the fire. The winds continued to rage out of control and the firefighters were forced to give up ground all night. As the evening wore on, I confessed to Oliver that I was grateful to have the chance to have him in our home. After he had given me the $40,000 that I didn’t know how I would ever repay him. Oliver insisted that he only gave me the money because Yahweh told him to do it. We finally went to bed around 3:00 am.
The next morning we learned that Oliver’s home and the rental property he had inherited next door were completely gone. Oliver seemed unconcerned though.
“Easy come, easy go.” Oliver said. His father George Bane had earned that money, not him. Then Oliver told me not to worry about anything and that Jesus had big plans for us. He said that that was why Jesus had told him to give me the $40,000 last year. When I asked Oliver what kind of plans Jesus had for me he told me that he would let me know. For now I was to order a set of business cards because it was time to do the Lord’s work. Then Oliver Bane wrote me a check for $10,000 dollars. I deposited the check and paid the mortgage. Even if we couldn’t make another payment it would take them 90 days to foreclose on us and we would at least be in the house until Brady graduated from Santa Monica High School. The spell was working so far.
You see, I told you I was blessed and lucky and I actually think that is why so many people absolutely can’t stand me. Sometimes I think my superpower is making people insanely jealous of me so that they wish that I would get smashed in the end and the only satisfaction that I get in life is surviving their hatred. You may be starting to hate me already. If you are, that's ok. You are definitely going to get your money’s worth.
Albert Einstein once said. “There are two ways of looking at the universe as if nothing is a miracle and as if everything is.” On the way home from paying my mortgage, I had to admit that I had no idea what was going on or why this was happening. For years I had been surviving from miracle to miracle like Tarzan swinging from vine to vine. Now I had grabbed another vine and I had to admit that this was yet another documented, genuine, according to Hoyle miracle. There was no other explanation. It was crazy but I had to ask myself.
“Could Oliver be right? Did Jesus really burn down the Pacific Palisades so that Oliver Bane would move into my house and pay my mortgage?”
Of course the idea was crazy but the alternative was even more terrifying. If Jesus didn’t burn down the Pacific Palisades so that Oliver Bane would pay my mortgage we would have lost our home. That meant that no one on this earth was there to help us and I was all alone and that was even harder to accept. I decided that if there was even a slight chance that Oliver was right, then the least I could do would be to write down my story if only to discover for myself why Jesus cared so much about me that he made thousands of people homeless so that we could stay in our home. So I did as Oliver asked. I ordered the business cards and decided to write this story down if only so that I could make sense of it all. Three days later the business cards that Oliver Bane had told me to order arrived. The business cards had no name, only my contact information and read
“Angel of the Lord.”