A Personal Anecdote

My friend Brad was over to do some work yesterday. After we were done, we decided to go together to meet our friends, Michael and Laura, and go out to dinner. They have a home in the Cahuenga Pass, across the freeway from the Hollywood Bowl. On the way over, Brad told me Michael had wanted to leave by 7:30, so we could be back in time to watch some fireworks. Apparently the Bowl was to have a big fireworks display after that evening's show. And so after dinner, having returned to Michael and Laura's place, we walked down the block to the home of one of their neighbors, who had an elevated position on the hillside from where the fireworks could easily be seen. Brad and I were introduced to the neighbors, Wendy and Andrew, who were quite nice. Our hostess had made a chocolate souffle for the occasion. Seems she enjoys baking, and since the fireworks weren't scheduled to begin for a bit, she started showing off her kitchen. She called special attention to her refrigerator, which she said she really really loved. I looked at it, and saw that it had a silvery metal front, just like one I used to have, which I bought for $200 from the previous tenants of a house I once rented, and subsequently bequeathed to my friend Mike back in 1985, who took the place when I moved out. And then Wendy added, with a tone of guilty pleasure, "we stole it." The fridge had been in a house they had rented, when a couple with whom they were friends had divorced and moved out, in the mid 1990s. After they had lived there for a time, the landlord decided to sell the place, and they were forced to leave. But they were intent on keeping the fridge, so they just had their movers pack it up with the rest of their belongings. They had been given first offer on the house, but couldn't afford to buy at that time. But they had really liked the house too. It was fascinating architecturally. It had lovely wood floors, and a high ceiling in the living room, and big windows with a lovely view. Yes, they had really liked living at that place "on Primera." I immediately asked, "3251?" And Wendy's eyes got huge and popped out of her skull like a character in a Tex Avery cartoon, as her jaw dropped all the way to the floor. Turns out they'd had the house following the folks, friends of Mike, who had rented it when he moved out, and to whom he had left the fridge behind. Wendy and Andrew hadn't stolen the refrigerator after all; it was rightfully theirs - a cherished tenant-to-tenant hand-me-down, over a quarter of a century old.