Thirty-three years ago today I moved to L.A. I turned 22 on May 22, 1989. The next day, I walked in cap and gown across the stage of Berkeley’s Zellerbach Auditorium and received my Cal diploma. The day after that - May 24 - I climbed behind the wheel of my first fiancee's Civic and, with a deep sense of dread, pointed her car south. By evening, I was unpacking in her parent's home just off Roscomare Canyon in Bel Air. (A week or two later, I'd be marched into rehab, which is a story too ordinary and sad to be told.)
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