A DISPATCH FROM HOLLYWOOD (UPDATE)

UPDATE: I was in the midst of informing friends that we were fine when my nephew messaged me that Runyon was burning. Had I been looking out the window instead of at my phone, I wouldn't have required the notification.

We'd already started our hasty packing when the evacuation warning came; by the time the order arrived we were starting up the car and heading to the bosom of my family in the Valley. Once ensconced, we parked ourselves in front of the tube and watched first responders knock down fires a stone's throw from our door, as well as others right by the stomping grounds of my youth.

The reason we were spared? The direction and intensity of the wind. Had it been blowing in a different direction or gusting too hard for air support, the result might have been wildly, devastatingly different. Not only everything we own but countless homes and an array of Hollywood landmarks might've been imperiled.

So much of our lives is subject to the vagaries of the wind. How fortunate we are that it pushed our sails out of danger. And how much we feel for those who have lost so much.

I am obliged to note the incredible generosity and concern of so many friends, relatives, neighbors and colleagues, who offered us sanctuary and whatever else we needed. Community is our most important possession. Not even an inferno can destroy it.

(previously...)

The sky in Hollywood is blackening as plumes from the Palisades fire to the west and the Eaton fire to the east converge overhead and fearsome winds continue to whip and howl across the region. A phalanx of military choppers just roared overhead, perhaps connected to a federal response, but who knows?

“Apocalyptic” is a common descriptor in texts and posts. Dozens of people we speak to every day have been evacuated and are in a state of dreadful uncertainty, unsure if their homes have survived the flames. Several we know have already gotten the devastating news that their houses may be gone.

In times of such distress we are reminded that we are a community and we must support one another. The kindness of those who’ve checked in on us—from nearby neighborhoods and far-off states—is a balm.

Nothing can salve the pain of loss experienced by so many of our friends around southern California, but we will get through this—with a redoubled awareness of our connection.

As always, please stay alert, obey evacuation orders and check in if you can.

It seems worth mentioning, at this dire moment, that as I monitor alerts and message with friends and colleagues, I’m playing records. Melodies are cascading from the mallets of Milt Jackson’s vibes and somehow keeping the wild gusts from overtaking my heart. I don’t know about you, but music helps me survive.