Of Fires and Fathers

1/11/25

As I sit to write this (early-ish) missive, LA is still consumed by fires, both massive and minor. The magnitude is immense, and the pressure of grief and loss weighs heavily on all of us– citizens of Los Angeles. Many of my work colleagues and friends have lost their homes to the Eaton Fire and some to the Palisades Fire. I have a cousin on standby for evacuation and another dear friend who was packing when evacuation orders came in for the minor Archer fire, which has since been contained, and she is safe. 

Today is also the first anniversary of my father's passing. I look at the clock now, and at this time, one year ago, I was rushing to St. Joseph's Medical Center (now Providence). He had been expected to pass the night before; we had moved him to hospice in the hospital, and his respiration and blood pressure were dropping. I had made my peace with him, gone home to care for my family, and then miraculously, his respiration increased through the night. I was able to drop everything and return. There were miracles then. He passed gently no more than 5 minutes after I arrived: 11:11 am on 11/11/24. My sister believes it was a message. Indeed. 

It may be a message, though. I have written this before: My father was an atheist/agnostic for the back half of his life, yet the miracles and magic that spawned after his death make me laugh. He always wanted to make people laugh—success! The only other thing he wanted to do besides make people laugh was to help them, especially when tragedy struck. 

My father was a member of the Silent Generation. Known for heroic acts involving saving nations from themselves. He served in the Navy as a medic for a brief time. The spirit of service never left his soul. He didn't boast or brag about it; he just did it. When I was 10, he took me along to help pull cars out of floods in Big Tujunga Canyon. When I was younger, he stopped at a multi-vehicle crash on the I-5 to provide help. In November 1980, when another (more minor) great fire threatened one home we were moving from to the new home we were moving into, he stayed to hose down the old home's roof even though it was no longer his. My mom was in labor with my sister. We evacuated amid winds and flames similar to those we felt this week. All I can think of is how he taught me by modeling the critical significance of helping each other in times of trouble. 

I have felt helpless this week because I couldn't act as he would have. However, I can do what I can: write and share ways to support those in need. This is how I will pay respect to my father's memory.

Today, I share two organizations that help victims of the Eaton Fire. 

Since my platform is about finding joy even in difficult times and has been directed at busy educators, I plan to set up a fundraiser to help educators who lost their homes in the Eaton Fire. As of this writing, the number is loosely 30, but that is just what I have heard. When the chaos settles, I will learn more about the total number and return with a plan to assist. 

A former student and his father inspired me to take action. The student made a video showing how he and his father helped keep some homes in Altadena from burning down. It is worth watching. The student set up a GoFundMe, with all proceeds going to the Eaton Fire survivors. Additionally, he has created a shirt that people can buy, "Foothill Strong," and all proceeds will be directed to the same organization.

If you prefer to donate directly is the link to the Pasadena Community Foundation:

At my school, eight educators (faculty/staff) and many families lost their homes to the fire. Others, I have heard, fought hours-long battles to save their homes and were successful by the skin of their teeth. For those who have lost their homes, our school has set up a fund to help them directly. It would mean so much if you could provide funds, or if you can't, please share the link widely.

Thank you.🙏🏼 It means the world to those impacted by the devastation still underway.

I dedicate this issue to all those fathers who have fought fires large and small or lent a hand to someone in need. May you live long and happy lives. 💗

Be well & Be safe,

🌊 Bridget