Heat and Fellowship

I recently enjoyed a second trip to the Finnish Baths in Sherman Oaks. It's just too affordable, too historic and too nice of a heat to pass up. Sherman Oaks also happens to be the valley-town where I teach my ukulele class, so I'm out there anyway. How could I not budget an extra hour and a half for a stretch of heat?

On this second visit, I invited one of my ukulele students, Aaron Goffman. Now, ukulele folks are off-beat by nature. But not in a wacky "I need attention" sort of way. These are earnest men and women, lovers of music who have never before been able to play an instrument. They've chosen the humble ukulele because it's relatively easy. In group environments, they are warm and supportive. But it's like any elective adult education -- inherently weird.

Aaron Goffman is one of the most normal people in there. He works in the film industry in the props department, and is married to a lovely Colombian woman named Jeaneth. Aaron took private lessons from me for a while, but I never really got to know him too well on a personal level. We mostly just talked about ukulele, and sometimes, this is weird for me. I like ukulele. I've played for ten years now. But it's such a small part of my life that to have a whole world that gravitates around it doesn't always make sense. And as lovely as a human Aaron Goffman is, he's in a constellation that is bizarre to me.

I would imagine this plight is familiar to yoga teachers, blimp and hot-air balloon pilots, platform divers, successful podcasters, letterers of graphic novels, and Vespa owners. Summed up, subcultures are strange beasts.

So I was a little nervous to meet Goffman at the schvitz. Would there be some awkwardness? Would he be uncomfortable with the nudity involved? Would we find something to talk about?

I entered the men's and found Goffman in the showers, which I passed by on my way to stoke up the sauna (see review on Finnish Baths). Said hello and asked, "Everything okay? Are you comfortable?" He said, "I am." And the rest of the heat was great. We got in there and both opened right up, telling each other things the other had no idea about. I was surprised to learn that Goffman had been married for more than 20 years before he met Jeaneth, and at 48, was a grandfather. It was easy talking and great times between gentlemen.

And I say it's a testament to the culture of the sauna that this is the result. It's not like other subcultures where it's competitive and exclusionary. There can be no posturing with the heat. Instead, it encourages real camaraderie and compassion. It's why strangers are so easy to talk to in the heat. And if you're kind-of-friends with someone, like I was with Goffman, you take a heat together and find a million ways to be brothers.

So I say, find a schivtz, grab an acquaintance, and make a friend.