The things you’ll find behind walls

PETER BUFFA

Boo. Did I scare you? Probably not.

It’s Halloween. Almost. Maybe that’s why the front-page story in

Friday’s Daily Pilot -- “A Creepy Coincidence” -- caught my eye.

Actually, I didn’t find it creepy at all. I thought it was warm and

touching, thank you. Meet the Louviers. After 16 years in their

Eastside Costa Mesa home, Mark and Leslie Louvier decided it was time

for a makeover. Not them. The house. So they began to rip and tear

and strip and bare, sanding and painting, replacing the door, redoing

the counters, new moulding and more.

While he was de-walling a wall in the bathroom, Mark found an old

newspaper wrapped around a pipe. He did what we all do when we find

an old newspaper. He dusted it off and unfolded with care, then read

it all over to see the news that was there. Which reminds me, do you

know why no one ever starves in the desert? Because of all the

sandwiches there. Anyway, the paper was, oddly enough, a fairly

intact Daily Pilot from Jan. 16, 1971 -- nearly 33 years ago.

Don’t you love when that happens? I do. I think running across an

old newspaper is like finding gold. It’s a time machine, a snapshot

of what was going on, good and bad, serious and silly, noteworthy and

not. I always check out the photos and the ads -- especially the ones

with prices -- the movies, and the sports page. The world was a

happening place in Jan. 1971.

Mark got a hint of that as he scanned stories about the war in

Vietnam, the Manson trial and budget problems in Sacramento, where a

former movie star was Governor. But as he turned the page after page,

it wasn’t a headline or an ad that stopped Mark short. It was a name,

printed on the yellowed page: “Henry Louvier.” The name sat atop an

obituary for Newport Beach resident Henry Louvier, who just happened

to be Mark Louvier’s grandfather.

What are the odds of that happening? I’ll tell what the odds are:

17,682,441,595 to 1, plus or minus 5, that’s what.

“I went to his funeral,” said Louvier. “I remember my grandfather,

of course. But I had no idea anything was ever written about him.”

Let’s review. A couple buys a house in 1987 from total strangers

who wouldn’t know Mark and Leslie Louvier from Jacqueline Bouvier.

Sixteen years later, during a remodel, the male half of the couple

peels an old newspaper from around an older pipe, and the paper just

happens to have his grandfather’s obituary in it.

The odds? 17,682,441,595 to 1, plus or minus 5, and don’t make me

tell you again.

Leslie Louvier said she got the shivers when Mark first showed the

obituary to her, but then saw it as a sign of affection.

“It felt like it was a blessing from his grandfather,” said

Leslie. “I still get goose bumps when we talk about it. I can’t just

think of it as some fancy coincidence.”

I couldn’t agree with Leslie more. Coincidence my patoot. Go ahead

and call the authorities, but I believe that all those people who

turn in their keys and their earthly parking spaces before we do try

to communicate with us more than we think, especially the ones we

love. It’s just that sometimes we don’t get the message. That dusty

old Daily Pilot that Mark Louvier found was no coincidence. It was a

gentle message from his grandfather that he was still around and

still cared about him.

Inspired by their startling encounter with the past, the Louviers

decided to do a little cosmic message streaming of their own. They

encased a mini-time capsule in a living room wall, complete with a

newspaper, a copy of Newsweek, and a bottle of merlot (stylish, no?)

then penned a brief note on the wine bottle: Good luck to the new

owners -- Mark & Leslie Louvier.

I have another confession to make. I do that all the time, except

I sign my own name. Whenever I fix anything (and we use the term

“fix” loosely here) that involves opening and sealing a wall or a

countertop or whatever, I leave a sappy little note about who we

were, what we were doing at the time and wishing the finder good

luck.

Do you live at 354 Magnolia? If you do, there’s a note from me

from 1976 somewhere in the walls in second bedroom. I don’t remember

exactly where. Just start at the door and work your way around the

room. How about 1654 Samar Place. Is that you? If it is, there’s a

note from me from 1982 in one of your bathroom walls behind what used

to be a medicine cabinet. Wait. It gets worse. I even stash a note

with the Christmas lights every year when I put them away. I write

down the date and the time, and exactly what was going on that day. A

year later, I pull out the lights and find the note.

Standing alone in the garage, draped in a tangled web of lights,

ladders and staple guns, I read the note to myself. Why? I have no

idea. I take a deep breath, toss the note aside then drag the whole

wiry mess into the light of day to do battle with the eaves. You have

your holiday traditions -- I have mine.

So Mark and Leslie Louvier, we salute you and your grandfather,

and I for one understand completely. Keep those cards and time

capsules coming, and check the mailbox and the walls everyday. You

never know who’s trying to reach you. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs

Sundays. He may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].