About ten years ago my ex and I spent a fabulous November "Black Friday" night doing writing exercises with a few hopeful writers. I remember that night held lots of laughs. Afterwards we went home, I dropped off my purse in my apartment and headed over to my friends apartment in the next complex over. He was out of town, we were watching his cats and he had cable and ice cream in the freezer. A lovely way to end the evening. Less than an hour after settling in on the couch, we heard sirens. And they stopped close. So, my ex and I went out to see what was going on...At first we thought it was the car dealership next door to our house. Then we realized, it was our house. We lived in a in a double craftsmen house. Our neighbors in the other half of the house woke up to the smell of the smoke and called 911. The fire engine was 3 blocks away on a minor call and was breaking in our door in less than 3 minutes. That was a surreal moment for me. Watching everything and unable to do anything.
Our cat sat in the back bedroom window, patiently waiting for us to come get him. The good news. The bird, was to close to the fire and died. The bad news. The firemen put out the fire, that started in the corner of the living room by the gas heater and dragged out of the house anything that might spark a flame later. Like I said, it was a corner of a room, by the book shelf. I lost 90% of my books, a computer, nick-nacks, my ex's amp and guitar, and may things that I have forgotten about. I remember that I kept sating "sorry" to everyone. And I felt helpless for days after as we tried to clean up what we could and make the best of living in a hotel around the corner. And the reality was that it was just a corner of room...
When I hear sirens, I always say: "God bless somebody." Something my mom taught me to do as a child. I also give money to the American Red cross, they paid for the hotel, cleaning supplies and food. Two weeks later we had moved into the other half of the bungalow, but most of my books were never replaced nor was the bird. And I realize just how quickly life can change and not for the best.
When the Station fire was raging in the Los Angeles Nation forest last fall and I lived with the pyrocumulus clouds growing, shifting and changing for two weeks, I though "God bless many somebodies." I knew that helpless feeling that many people we feeling. So when my friend Joy, founder of the Art from the Ashes foundation, put out the call to artist to come collect burnt treasures from one of the areas that was burned in that fire, I was eager to help. Please watch this space to see what I create!
Here are a few photo from my first day hunting for what will inspire me.
Check out the organization: Art from the Ashes
Support. Inspire. Create. Renew.
