June 2019

I have always loved to drive and am always up for a road trip.  For a time I thought about being a truck driver so I could just drive and listen to music all day.  Unfortunately, that dream died due to my aversion to driving large vehicles, discovered when I was forced to drive the family ’73 Chevy Station wagon instead of the ’72 Chevy Malibu I was used to.  That was big enough. Thirty-seven years later I have owned 3 cars in my life.  Two were small Toyota Tercels from around ’86.  Then on July 3, 2000 came the Rav4.  My dream car.  My travellin’ buddy. My rock.

As soon as I moved to LA and became aware of Rav4s I wanted one.  I had never been in one but they were cute.  I liked that they had the SUV style and sat higher than cars, but seemed to be of car-like size.  When the used Tercel I bought upon arriving in LA gave out, I went to Toyota, sat in a Rav4 and knew I had found “the one.” The all-important-to-me feature of seat to dashboard height was perfect and when I drove it, it handled just like a car.  I was ready to buy.

Because I can be impulsive, the friend I brought along to check me on that strongly suggested I test at least one other vehicle to be sure.  I reluctantly agreed and went to Isuzu because of the cute-factor of the Amigo.  The second I sat behind the wheel I knew it wasn’t the one.  It felt truck like and it drove truck like.  

Back at Toyota, I was checking out all the options, mentally prepared that it would have to be ordered.  When I decided on Mystic Teal Mica for the color, I was stunned that they had one on the lot, with the basic package I wanted and 7 miles on the odometer.  It had arrived that day or the day before. I drove it off the lot, rolling it into double digits to 11 on my way home.

Over these last 19 years and 196,000 miles, the car has become a significant part of my life and my identity.  It is a comfort zone and I am emotionally attached.   I think about all My Rav and I have seen and done together.  It has taken me on many adventures, especially when my dog Riggs was alive.  We went to the snow, the beach, the desert and cross country for a job in Florida.  It’s transported me to numerous jobs, meetings, events, and driven through many fast food restaurants.  Most of my California memories include my Rav4.

It was the first big thing I bought and paid off, securing it’s place as the one , and made the car the one and only  tangible piece of stability I had as a freelancer.  It represented freedom and escape.  If I had enough money for a tank of gas, I could get somewhere else.  I had no plans of where I would go or how that would help, but knowing I could calmed me. Now that I mostly petsit in other people’s lovely homes while they are away, my car is home base.  It helps carts my things from place to place.  I pack it up, drive the 5 or 10 minutes to the next house and unpack it. We are a team with a system.  It gets me.

This year, more than most, this anniversary also has me thinking of all that has happened since I got the car.  I had it before 9/11.  I had it before my dog and he has since gone to the Rainbow Bridge.  I had it before my cousin who is going into her sophomore year in college was born.  And at 19 years, I think how that was my age when my mother died.

The few problems I’ve had have been the expected problems that come with an aging vehicle, but costs have still been much less than a new car payment would be each year.  I am firmly attached and hope to drive the car forever.  We just drove up to wine country for a 2 week cat sitting job (I am a lucky, lucky girl!)  Ours is a true love story.  We’ve come a long way, baby!  Let’s keep rolling – I can’t wait to see where we go next!

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When I moved to Los Angeles in ’97, I bought a used Tercel because it was familiar and I had loved my first one.  It came from Memphis, TN, bought when I left school after my mom died and moved in with my dad. It was cute (very important to me), easy to drive, and had a small turning circumference.  That’s the selling point I remember the dealing pushing and still think about anytime I’m trying to do a u-turn. 

My attachment to the car – and the freedom it represented – convinced me to take it to NY when I moved there and store it near the studio I shared with a friend, a move which essentially doubled my rent.  But I made use of it, leaving the city frequently for mini-adventures to Connecticut, New Jersey, or the Hamptons because the girl with the car gets the invites when friends with rich bosses get the housekeeps for the weekend!  I used the trunk for extra storage.  Finally I sold the car to the guy that ran the garage where I parked it.  After a few years, my work became life-consuming and I rarely used the car.  About the third time I had to get the battery jumped, he pointed out to me how much money I was wasting and offered to buy it for a niece going to medical school.  He made it easy and for a nice reason, so I let go.

The LA Tercel lasted about three years and died a sad radiator involved death along Santa Monica Blvd just past Highland.  Luckily I had just started a new job that gave me good standing with the car loan people so all I had to do was choose.

Before I moved to LA, I was certain I’d get a Mazda Miata, but as I saw them on the roads they just seem small and vulnerable.  All the SUVs made me want to be high up but I didn’t want a big vehicle or anything that felt like I was driving a truck. It felt like an overwhelming decision right off the bat and I didn’t come to LA with a job, so I quickly defaulted to the Tercel.  And I was happy.

Dawnel DeRubeis made a name for herself on the pageant circuit and embodies the idea of beautiful inside and out.

I have always loved to drive and am always up for a road trip.  For a time I thought about being a truck driver so I could just drive and listen to music all day.  Unfortunately, that dream died due to my aversion to driving large vehicles, discovered when I was forced to drive the family ’73 Chevy Station wagon instead of the ’72 Chevy Malibu I was used to.  That was big enough. Thirty-seven years later I have owned 3 cars in my life.  Two were small Toyota Tercels from around ’86.  Then on July 3, 2000 came the Rav4.  My dream car.  My travellin’ buddy. My rock.

As soon as I moved to LA and became aware of Rav4s I wanted one.  I had never been in one but they were cute.  I liked that they had the SUV style and sat higher than cars, but seemed to be of car-like size.  When the used Tercel I bought upon arriving in LA gave out, I went to Toyota, sat in a Rav4 and knew I had found “the one.” The all-important-to-me feature of seat to dashboard height was perfect and when I drove it, it handled just like a car.  I was ready to buy.

Because I can be impulsive, the friend I brought along to check me on that strongly suggested I test at least one other vehicle to be sure.  I reluctantly agreed and went to Isuzu because of the cute-factor of the Amigo.  The second I sat behind the wheel I knew it wasn’t the one.  It felt truck like and it drove truck like.  

Back at Toyota, I was checking out all the options, mentally prepared that it would have to be ordered.  When I decided on Mystic Teal Mica for the color, I was stunned that they had one on the lot, with the basic package I wanted and 7 miles on the odometer.  It had arrived that day or the day before. I drove it off the lot, rolling it into double digits to 11 on my way home.

Over these last 19 years and 196,000 miles, the car has become a significant part of my life and my identity.  It is a comfort zone and I am emotionally attached.   I think about all My Rav and I have seen and done together.  It has taken me on many adventures, especially when my dog Riggs was alive.  We went to the snow, the beach, the desert and cross country for a job in Florida.  It’s transported me to numerous jobs, meetings, events, and driven through many fast food restaurants.  Most of my California memories include my Rav4.

It was the first big thing I bought and paid off, securing it’s place as the one , and made the car the one and only  tangible piece of stability I had as a freelancer.  It represented freedom and escape.  If I had enough money for a tank of gas, I could get somewhere else.  I had no plans of where I would go or how that would help, but knowing I could calmed me. Now that I mostly petsit in other people’s lovely homes while they are away, my car is home base.  It helps carts my things from place to place.  I pack it up, drive the 5 or 10 minutes to the next house and unpack it. We are a team with a system.  It gets me.

This year, more than most, this anniversary also has me thinking of all that has happened since I got the car.  I had it before 9/11.  I had it before my dog and he has since gone to the Rainbow Bridge.  I had it before my cousin who is going into her sophomore year in college was born.  And at 19 years, I think how that was my age when my mother died.

The few problems I’ve had have been the expected problems that come with an aging vehicle, but costs have still been much less than a new car payment would be each year.  I am firmly attached and hope to drive the car forever.  We just drove up to wine country for a 2 week cat sitting job (I am a lucky, lucky girl!)  Ours is a true love story.  We’ve come a long way, baby!  Let’s keep rolling – I can’t wait to see where we go next!

_________________________________

When I moved to Los Angeles in ’97, I bought a used Tercel because it was familiar and I had loved my first one.  It came from Memphis, TN, bought when I left school after my mom died and moved in with my dad. It was cute (very important to me), easy to drive, and had a small turning circumference.  That’s the selling point I remember the dealing pushing and still think about anytime I’m trying to do a u-turn. 

My attachment to the car – and the freedom it represented – convinced me to take it to NY when I moved there and store it near the studio I shared with a friend, a move which essentially doubled my rent.  But I made use of it, leaving the city frequently for mini-adventures to Connecticut, New Jersey, or the Hamptons because the girl with the car gets the invites when friends with rich bosses get the housekeeps for the weekend!  I used the trunk for extra storage.  Finally I sold the car to the guy that ran the garage where I parked it.  After a few years, my work became life-consuming and I rarely used the car.  About the third time I had to get the battery jumped, he pointed out to me how much money I was wasting and offered to buy it for a niece going to medical school.  He made it easy and for a nice reason, so I let go.

The LA Tercel lasted about three years and died a sad radiator involved death along Santa Monica Blvd just past Highland.  Luckily I had just started a new job that gave me good standing with the car loan people so all I had to do was choose.

Before I moved to LA, I was certain I’d get a Mazda Miata, but as I saw them on the roads they just seem small and vulnerable.  All the SUVs made me want to be high up but I didn’t want a big vehicle or anything that felt like I was driving a truck. It felt like an overwhelming decision right off the bat and I didn’t come to LA with a job, so I quickly defaulted to the Tercel.  And I was happy.

As much comfort, validation, and healing I’ve gained from opening up about my mother’s suicide to other survivors and then getting my family to speak for The Silent Goldens documentary, it is hard sometimes to think about having “lost” 30 years to the issues that arose from her death and (not) dealing with it as a family in silence.

With full understanding that I may not have had the capacity to be helped back then, that everything I have done and gone through makes me the person to do this project now, or my passion about focusing all my efforts on this subject may not have been there without the long silence, but I can’t help but wonder at times what road I might have taken had I been open to the subject from the start.  

When I was young I never had a clear vision of what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I’m not sure I was actually aware I had very many choices other than one of the helping professions my family were all in,  like doctor, social worker, or teacher.  I’ve always believed that had my mother not died, I would have defaulted to following in her social work footsteps.  

That didn’t happen, but the sense of purpose I felt when I was hit with the idea, and the sense of how it could help others shares their own stories, helped reconcile the path I chose in television with the social service element I always felt was missing and hope this film is a platform for me to continue to serve the suicide survivors community.

Over the last couple of years working for suicide prevention and awareness, I have been amazed by those who have been able to speak so much sooner and to find ways to combine their work or passions with the lessons from their loss much, much earlier than I was.  I am also lucky to have become friends with some of them.

One of those people is actress/producer Kelly O’Malley who lost her father in 2011.  Her studies The Stella Adler Academy of Theater and Acting inspired her to use theater reach those affected by suicide and in the Spring of 2016, she premiered A Light In Dark Places, a play festival showcasing 5 one acts pieces related to suicide and loss. The festival, now performed every September during National Suicide Prevention Week, has grown exponentially every year in submissions and attendance and raises money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  The show also run in Kelly’s hometown of Dallas in Fall 2019.  Kelly also started producing music events for suicide awareness in LA and hopes to get other art forms involved to“create a community that breaks isolation, one where there is no stigma about suicide or mental illness and where reaching out for help feels safe and even necessary.”  

I have had the privilege of attending most of the performances the last two years and the plays are illuminating.  The dedication and sensitivity to the subject of the entire crew and cast has also always been impressive. Brava Kelly!  I’ll be back this year!

For more information or to donate go to alightindarkplaces.org and be sure to check her out in the latest installment of Talking About Suicide Loss With.

Last year I wrote a Part 1 to this blog about a new pair of socks.  I thought I’d have a mini-series of random things I find that give a true spark of joy in my day.  I’ve probably had a few such moments, but none significant enough to  inspire me to write until I found this lovely $1.49 reusable shopping bag at a grocery store that simply said “The Golden State” with simple imagery of palm trees on the beach. 

It’s not uncommon to run into things that use the word golden.  Since it’s my last name I often notice and make jokes about owning it all.  And that Molson Golden is my uncle.  I know the bag was referring to my current home state of California, but the fact that I strive to be in the serene state the bag depicts, I decided to buy the bag, hoping it would transfer that feeling to me.  It hasn’t, but I still have hope and it constantly reminds me of that goal.