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The Fires Next Time
I had never visited L.A. until 2019 and well into my fifties. As a New Yorker, I’d heard it denigrated so many times by the theater folks in my circle. Plus, I was so busy and broke during my middle years that I hardly went anywhere.
But that year, there was a music conference I wanted to attend (I’m a singer/songwriter in my other life) and it was in L.A. so I bought the ticket to head out there for a long weekend.
I got a hotel in West Hollywood that was within walking distance of the conference venue.
Every morning I’d grab my cup of coffee and take that mile-long walk up Hollywood Boulevard. It was February, but the sun was all-encompassing and the temps in the 70s. I loved L.A. the minute I stepped off the plane. I went to the conference again the following year (my memories of that trip are very vivid because it was just weeks before the pandemic started) and fell in love all over again.
To see the devastation from the recent and ongoing fires and to hear the human stories from all walks of life tears my heart open. In this moment, we can’t be politicizing and blaming — there will be a season for that. We need to use this moment to reconnect with our hearts. Because we are about to enter into an empire of heartlessness.
It is part of the human spirit, and certainly the American spirit, to want to rise…
