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In yearlong blog, Dad chronicles life of Forest Lawn's newest, bestest tenant: Pablo Castelaz, age 6
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Pablo Castelaz by Shepard Fairey
Among all of the public grieving over the deaths of Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett and for the older folks, Karl Malden, a different sort of community has united in grief and celebration for one more LA resident--Pablo Castelaz, who lost a valiant battle to cancer a little over two weeks ago. He was six years old.
But this is not exclusively a story about a boy fighting cancer—it’s about a Father’s unbelievable expression of grit and grief and the Greek chorus of support that slowly gathered around him.
In many ways, Jeff Castelaz is a typical, creative Silverlake Dad. He’s co-founder of Dangerbird Records, a record label and management company. He runs with musicians, actors and artists. He’s made a small town out of a big city.
With a crew of family and friends, Jeff, an avid cyclist, has claimed parts of Griffith Park and the roads along the Angeles Forest as his own. And he is pals with stepson Grady’s Dad—part of that whole blended family deal that all of the Gen X kids are trying these days. But kicking and screaming, he was also forced into a community that no one wants to people.
Initially to provide information and then (seemingly almost accidentally) to process his experience, Castelaz chronicled Pablo’s yearlong struggle with cancer on a blog. Starting the day Pablo was diagnosed in May 2008, Castelaz goes from shell-shocked parent to savvy cancer caretaker.
And while Castelaz is the story’s primary author, his wife Jo Ann (a combination of Athena and Mary) acts as the family’s research and development executive, diving headfirst into all things chemo and beyond. Rounding out the group is 15-year-old Grady who develops a Yoda-like maturity amidst normal teenage stuff like starting High School and loving Green Day.
It seems that this team, anchored by a common spirituality, walks united, which sadly, is not always the case with marriages facing these prospects. He describes his family’s emotional palette—rage, humor and Obi-Wan type wisdom on any given day—with entries like, “I ride by that field, and I get f***ing hurt and f***ing angry. It happened this morning. A piece of me floats away (hope). A piece of me drops to the ground and tumbles (anger, hate). A piece of me looks right at that field and knows we'll be back there soon (passion). Another piece of me can't look (denial). A final piece of me refuses to feel anything (the trauma survivor's parlor trick)”.
The entire story of Pablo’s wild, joyous and heartbreaking ride is told against the backdrop of rock’n’roll Silverlake with frequent trips to Intelligentsia (Jeff’s a coffee-holic), Mexican restaurant Malo and Rudy’s Barbershop, where Pablo gets his inevitable chemo head-shave. Equal parts hilarious and heart-broken, Castelaz uses rock music and pop culture references to help describe his son’s battle with observations like, “Michael Stipe's not the only skinny bald guy who gets to say Everybody Hurts”, and “Pablo went from looking like a gaunt, skinhead Ian MacKaye to a puffy-faced '70s rocker, say, John Bonham on the '78 tour.”
He provides news of a scan in an entry called “Cat Scan Fever”, describes a trip to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles as, “Walking in CHLA”, and in a raw moment, quotes from The Smiths, That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore, “I’ve seen it happen in other people’s lives/And now it’s happening in mine”. One of my favorite entries, which details some unexpected= chemo side effects is titled, “Mommy’s Alright, Daddy’s Alright, The Headaches Were Just A Little Weird.” For the reader, it’s almost like a rock show, where the crowd goes nuts during a pumping guitar solo, and then is brought to reflection by a poignant ballad.
And then there’s the blog’s testosterone; Jeff, Grady and Pablo are man-style. The blog is filled with secret games of (gentle) hospital room baseball (with a rubber ball and a 
flashlight as the “bat”), Pablo’s obsession with all things pirate and because of chemo side effects, vivid scatological references where Jeff almost challenges the reader to look away with entries titled, “The road to recovery is paved with poo”. In a very male clip, Jeff describes Pablo’s snoring as “sawin’ logs”, the three men doing “Geronimo jumps” and he sign offs with lines like, “Period. End of story”.
While paying microscopic attention to Pablo’s low platelet count—which can cause anything from minor bruising to fatal hemorrhaging—Jeff occasionally allows Pablo to partake in rough and tumble moments hoping that the palliative effect of maleness can overtake poor clotting. But Jeff also makes his own rough and tumble moments. .jpg)
Wresting some control back from the pain of cancer’s grip, he fantasizes about destroying himself on his bike. Later, Jeff is hit by a car and sustains injuries, but that accident seemed more like exhaustion leading to bad choices rather than a Jeff-Bridges-in-Fearless attempt to pilot his own horror.
Peppering the blog are stories of visits and outside help from music business folks like Shirley Manson from Garbage, artists like Shepard Fairey and a well known, but shall-remain-nameless street artist who rocked Grady’s world. His entries gained the attention of U2’s Edge and prompted an eventual meeting with Lance Armstrong. Over 
time, his entries gained over 355,000 followers from Honduras to Florence.
With this momentum, Jeff started fundraising for CHLA—a marvel if you think about it given the constraints on his time and energy. In turn, the blog’s impact grew. This week, there was a yellow Livestrong/Nike chalkbot bearing Pablo’s name in the road at the Tour De France.
But it’s the comments by regular folks that really illustrate the blog’s reach. Along with straight up expressions of grief and prayers from friends and strangers, there was a high Gen X quotient with comments like, “Oh crap! Seriously crap.””, movie quotes like, "He may be red. He may be horned. He may be misunderstood. But when you need the job done right, it's time to call in Hellboy”, and in response to the Castelaz family’s request for visualization, the very concise, “On it.”
And as the news traveled, LA, a town that gets a bad rap for being fractured, bucked its rep. Folks organized meditation circles, brought Mediterranean dinners and “insaaaaaaane” Armenian desserts, and arranged VIP tours of Disneyland, a Dodger game trip (including rockstar seats, and appearances on the field and jumbotron), as well as a sneak peek at Kung Fu Panda 2’s FX models courtesy of the film’s director.
And with the constant flow of billion dollar pancakes from Grady’s Dad Jimmy Gallagher, General Manager at Fred 62, that mythical child-raising village begins to materialize. While the blog’s URL is getwellpablo, it becomes apparent that the blog is also a way for both Jeff and a community to not only get well, but to rally.
Reading in chronological order, it’s unfathomable that an illness could beat the behemoth that is the hundreds of thousands of people walking with the Castelaz family. It’s like that Verizon ad, but with a much greater purpose.
When a child dies, it is easy to get cynical and pissed, and wonder if it was all for not. But with a community educated and inspired, big time fundraising for CHLA, and a Dad with an avenue to share his overwhelming grief, joy and stories of his son’s magic, it is stunning what a simple blog can achieve.
With the role that social networking plays in the grief process these days—private citizens grieving for very public figures—this story almost functions in reverse.
And even though Pablo was buried July 1, Castelaz continues to write. He and his community now need to grieve and celebrate--because rock-n-roll never forgets.
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