photo by Tessie NAVARRO
This is the unpublished version published in the Daily Sundial, Cal State Northridge Sept. 21 2011.
To be young is to revel in the absence of responsibilities and burdens that come later in life. The heart is passionate, the mind is willing and the eyes can see so clear the vision for the future, it would be unfair to reign in such optimism.
All of this was Louis Posen at 19 years old, before,to borrow from Virginia Woolf, the world had raised its whip. Posen was studying film at Cal State Northridge and was a camera assistant for film and music videos. He was going spend his life looking through a lens that captured what he loved.
Then again, the best laid plans of future film directors…
The whip descended at 19, that day at the doctor’s office. His vision had been blurry for some time, but here came the reason: He had Retinitis Pigmentosa, a genetic eye condition that eventually leads to incurable blindness. Posen was not about to focus on the long view, though.
“If it’s not affecting me now, why should I spend my time wallowing in it?” Posen recalled.
No, he thought, this was not a big deal. There was no reason to go through the requisite stages of grief. Leave that to his mother Jo Ann, who blamed herself for a while. Maybe it was the medication she took when she was pregnant with her son. Maybe I could have done something to prevent it, she thought. Only after Posen discovered the condition was genetic did Jo Ann absolve herself.
But the whip wasn’t done. It cracked down again when Posen was 23, when a botched procedure permanently detached his retina and left him completely blind in his right eye. RP is supposed to be a slow deterioration of eyesight. Then again, the best laid plans of optometrists …
“I’m not one to ask the question, ‘What if?’” Posen said. “I don’t find that has much positive effect, so I usually ask myself, ‘What can I do? What should I do?’”
In 1993, he stepped away from the camera and took a risk. With $1,000 and no business plan – who does in their early 20s? – he bought the book “How to Run an Independent Record Label,” and soon, Hopeless Records was born.
“I saw a vision for a business I had never noticed before,” he said.
Posen is now 40. He eventually graduated CSUN, is married with a 4-year-old daughter named Ellie, and runs Hopeless Records out of a studio in Van Nuys. The name of the label is not some ironic take on his struggles, though he admits it does lend itself to a punk rock culture it tries to reach. (Posen got the name from the first track off
of the band Guttermouth’s “11oz.” record, the first ever release by Hopeless.)
The vision Posen saw for his label has expanded into a charitable arm called Sub City, which raises money for non-profit organizations and promotes social awareness to certain causes. This type of attitude has spawned the Take Action! Tour, of which various bands participate, along with annual compilation releases, all in the name of doing good.
“I’ve always subscribed more to the positive side of punk and alternative music than negative side, and hopefully the bands we (sign) and the messages they’re delivering are more on the positive side,” Posen said.
And that’s it, really; the power of positive thinking. Posen’s central vision in his left eye is blurry, but he can still see somewhat peripherally, allowing him to move about the studio without assistance.
Yes, he has a cane and takes taxis to get around, but no, his lack of vision does not prevent him from practicing Krav Maga every week — there is a mat and a punching bag in the back of the studio – nor does it keep him from reading emails and contracts, thanks to the screen reading program called JAWS (Job Access With Speech).
Posen has seemed to bleed any negative energy from himself or those around him. Vice president of business development Eric Tobin calls those with disabilities that wallow in self-pity “slugs,” something which Posen is not.
“I don’t spend a lot of time feeling sorry for Louis and Louis doesn’t spend a lot of time feeling sorry for us,” Tobin said.
After all, Posen doesn’t have time to lay out eggshells when there’s a business to run.
“The work and the vision and passion for the company are a complete focus for him,” said Al Person, General Manager, who has taught music courses at CSUN.
The first time Person met Posen was in the mid-1990s when he answered an ad to be Posen’s roommate, and he wouldn’t think of working for anyone else now.
“Louis helps to provide that sense of connection to something … bigger than running a record label,” said Person.
Posen is two decades removed from the diagnosis that changed his life, the day that pushed up burdens and responsibilities a little closer on his timeline. But he doesn’t live to feel that way; he lives now to revel in the youthfulness of his daughter.
On a recent trip to Sea World, Ellie was allowed one toy from the gift shop, but soon decided she also wanted a Shamu toy. But Ellie was afraid of the rides, so her dad gave her a choice: If she went on the rides, she could get both toys. If she didn’t go, then she would only get the first one.
Ellie paused for a good while, then looked up and said, “I’ll get the Shamu toy the next time we come here.”
Posen was equal parts amazed and excited.
“Being four, and being able to think through all of those factors, you know?”
To take joy in such little moments, that is to see life through Posen’s eyes.
This is the unpublished version published in the Daily Sundial, Sept. 21 2011.
Brandon Dean 