14 YEARS

14 years ago, Jennifer and I moved from Chicago to Los Angeles. We knew Los Angeles was an incredible city, and we had heard good things about Los Feliz, but we didn’t know anything our the building we would be living in, Fountain View Apartments.

First of all, it’s big. We had mostly lived in small three-flats before, so I was a bit concerned about moving into a building almost the size of a whole city block. 

It is a uniquely triangle-shaped complex consisting of two buildings, each with about 60 units surrounding a pair of pools and enveloping a parking complex that butts up against a grass area with picnic tables and trees and rose bushes and outdoor grills.

It it located directly on busy Los Feliz Blvd. and is right across the street from the easternmost entrance to Griffith Park. It is white and green, and was built in 1954.

The first two years we were int he east building, right next to the building’s manager’s on-site apartment and steps from the pool. Things were quiet there, and while we were friendly with the neighbors we saw, we kept somewhat to ourselves.

It wasn’t until Jennifer got pregnant with our first child that things changed. We contemplated staying in our one-bedroom unit, and sat down to literally make a pro and con list about that possibility before deciding to move to a two-bedroom.

We weren’t set on staying at Fountain View. We looked at apartments in Frogtown and Atwater and Angeleno Heights, until we learned that a place opened up in the west side building.

One early spring day, we ventured over to find we weren’t the only ones visiting. Another couple, also pregnant, also already in the building, met us outside the unit. Our building manager knocked on the door and a very stoned 20-something young man opened the door, pot smoke wafting from behind him. He looked confused.

“Hi?” He said.

“It’s 10AM. We’re here to tour the unit, remember?”

“I actually didn’t, but go ahead, I guess,” he said, and waved us in.

The place was a mess. Food caked on plates in the sink, furniture at odd angles, a tenant not on the lease was even living in one of the oversized closets.

We decided it wasn’t for us, but the other couple went for it. About a month later, unexpectedly, the unit below also opened up, and we signed up there instead.

We moved in on St. Patrick’s Day, 2014. Exactly two months later, our son was born, 10 weeks premature. About a month later, the upstairs neighbors had their own baby.

Other neighbors were so excited to have new kids in the building. Two sisters-in-law would spend evenings on the patio speaking rapid Spanish, and would inevitably insist on holding our baby anytime they would see us.

And as the years went by, and as our children grew up, we came to realize we were part  of something special. How many times did I sit with visitors in the courtyard, only to have neighbors pass by walking their dogs, on the way to laundry room, headed to the pool, and how many times did those same friends remark in wonder: “Oh my god, you actually know your neighbors?!”

Not only did we know them, we became friends. In a city where it’s easy to live anonymously, it’s rare to find a genuine sense of community.

So when I think of Fountain View, it’s mostly about the people. Those who left before us: the Baileys, Adam & Stefi, Rachel & Shelby, Millicent & Jax, KT, Lloyd, and Seema. 

Those who are leaving at the same time: John & Susan, Mia & Kenny, Cynthia, and Sylvia. 

And then, those who remain: The Kingstons, Lauren & Jeremy, Jonathan & Edwin, the whole Chavez & Moya families, Annika & Milton & Mama J, Kennedy & Olivia, the Ohensians, the Toledos, Charlotte, Delio, Haley & Ben, Val & Mane, Vivian, and of course, Carlos & Bruce.

We couldn’t have known 14 years ago how fortunate we would be to find such amazing neighbors.

Fountain View was the longest I’ve lived anywhere since my childhood home, and so many memories come to mind:

The courtyard with the big tree that my kids climbed, where we taught them how to bike and skateboard and use scooters, where we decorated pumpkins and hid easter eggs.

Surviving Covid, banging pots and pans nightly during lockdown, walking Queso, weekend conversations at the pool, in the laundry room, in the grass area, getting my car wheel stolen one morning, morning lightsabers with Max, the secret passage, the Rich Route, visiting the shop, Trick or Treating in the building, movie night in the parking lot, practicing Spanish with Fiona, texts in the group chat, roses in the grass area, rosemary in the landscaping, eavesdropping on Michael and Netty across the alley, the night of [blank]’s arrest.

So much life happened inside those green gates, and although we’re excited for what’s next, I already know I will miss what we are moving on from.

We loved our neighbors, and felt like we were truly part of a community. We’re now leaving the only home our kids have ever known, and our only hope is that our new condo can foster even a fraction of that feeling of belonging we experienced these past 14 years.