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It was a dark and stormy night.
Well, it was dark, and the storm that night was in our living room. When Bruce, little Ian and I returned home late the night of Bruce's birthday in 1981, we found our front window forced open, and the sanctity of our home violated. Our things were strewn about, our carpet was ripped and the thieves got away with our stereo (with quadrophonic speakers no less), my sewing machine, and Bruce's briefcase with all of his financial and personal records.
Crime in Hollywood was high in 1981. The police weren't particularly concerned or optimistic about the recovery of our possessions. Just another routine break in for them, but devastating for us.
When we were in California last month, I found these photos in our storage unit. It brought back all of the memories of how traumatic an experience it was to have our home broken into. It wasn't the first time. Shortly before I started dating Bruce, my apartment in South Pasadena, where I lived with my roommate Susan, was broken into one night when we were out at a movie premier. That time the burglar was in the apartment when we got home, and I foolishly chased him out the back door. He got away with my jewelry and my beloved camera.
A couple of years after the Birthday Break-in, our house was once again burgled, this time while we were in church. They got away with a TV set, and some of my framed artwork.
What started out that night as a wonderful celebratory dinner at the Marrakesh Restaurant in Newport Beach in 1981, ended up as a scary dose of the reality of living in the Big City, where the good guys don't always win. Fortunately, we've never experienced the nightmare of a break-in since we left Hollywood, so maybe the good guys win most of the time!