I’m Searching for a New Home

In the past, I’ve written about the restaurant/bar I went to every Friday night, but I never named it, mostly because I didn’t want people to bother me or my son Grant, who also went there Friday nights, at least some of the time. Now, I’ll name it. Perle.

It was – notice the past tense – a French bistro with great wine in Montclair Village in the Oakland Hills. Every Friday night, I would spend time with dear friends, many of them lonely like me, one in particular who lost his wife within ten days of me losing mine. We all were and are – notice the present tense – a group of about ten people – the numbers fluctuate -- who love and support each other.

Last week Perle closed after eight years. Which means we lost a place to go, a reliable place in our unreliable lives. Now that reliable place is also unreliable, and isn’t there a general truth in that about life?

Another way of saying all that is I lost a sliver of certainty as I approach my 80th birthday next fall. I need certainty and I believe my friends do as well.

As a group we have decided on another bar/restaurant – I won’t reveal the name for obvious reasons – and many of us gathered there Friday night. It was different, but it was good. And it made me feel as whole as I can feel these days. I love being with our group which we now affectionately call the Perle Group.

Two of the regulars did not attend Friday night, and this is sad and this is tragic. I won’t use names, but here’s the story. On Wednesday a wonderful guy who is one of us went to Chase Bank in Montclair and withdrew money. As he walked home, he sensed a car trailing him. A juvenile jumped out of the car and demanded my friend’s wallet. My friend told him to fuck off – that was a mistake, I know it was. The juvenile pulled a gun and shot my friend four times, two in one leg, one in the other and one in the stomach. The cops caught the shooter.

My friend was rushed to the hospital where he had two emergency surgeries, and where he is recovering thank God, but he will have to relearn how to walk and it will be a long time before he rejoins the Perle Group. My heart aches.

My heart aches for my friend and his wife, also a dear friend of mine, and for Oakland which has lost its way, and for the loss I experienced when my wife died and which I re-experience every day. This has not been a happy Substack post, and I apologize.