What to Say When Everything’s on Fire
This morning, one of the first things I saw was some ignorant dipshit grousing about a GoFundMe for a family that had lost their home in the LA fires. My friend Bill shared it on FB, and this person launched into a tone-deaf, compassionless rant about rich people asking for money.
I don’t normally go full late ’90s/early 2000s scorched earth on anyone anymore, but I made an exception. Because you know, that dude can eat an entire bag of shit, no spoon. Just stick his damn head in there like a feed bag. (Does that Italian from Jersey come out sometimes? Baby, hold my earrings.)
When tragedy happens, there should be kindness and care. And my goodness, I have seen a lot of that—from friends offering friends places to stay, to checking in on everyone we can think of, to sharing links to essential resources online. Mr. Rogers said to look to the helpers, and that’s always, always relevant. Here, they wear first responder uniforms—some from other US states and some from our wonderful neighbor from the north, Canada. Others, from Mexico. Here, they look like neighbors helping neighbors. Here, it’s folks at a distance (like I am) passing around resources and kicking in when we can. It’s about caring.
It’s about looking after each other. When the worst happens, when the unthinkable is at your doorstep and grief has its grip on your heart, who shows up matters. Sometimes, it’s strangers. Sometimes, it’s someone you’ve spoken to only a handful of times. Sometimes, it’s someone who becomes deeply important to you, because they were there. Because they didn’t run. Because they stood by you in the worst of the aftermath.
There are always going to be people who sneer. Who blame. Who brandish the worst of humanity as if to prove they are, paradoxically, a paragon of virtue. Those who criticize kindness and giving grace. Those who admonish, when a soft approach is warranted. Those who are, honestly, vile.
There will always be villains. And monsters. Sometimes, they wear familiar faces. The revelation can be a surprise or not. But the most difficult monsters are the ones that look ordinary. No black hat in sight. A smile on their face. Polished. Precise. The very image of normal.
But there will always be helpers. There will always be friends, old and new, who reach out a hand when it’s needed. Who run into the fray, rather than away. Who open their door or their heart. Who are soft and safe and protective.
A friend, a few weeks ago, mentioned outright how protective I am of them. And it stuck with me. Because I strive to be that. Nothing I do or say is ever for show. But I can’t tell you the last time that was positively acknowledged. Because I am soft and sweet, until I’m given a reason to shelter or show my teeth. And that comes without strings or obligation. I am who I am, and there’s no force on earth that can change that.
So, with the coming days, we will protect and help and care for each other. Whenever we can, however we can. We will show our fierceness and our kindness, and do what we can—and not hold ourselves to impossible standards.
Please go here for a list of resources if you or a loved one are affected by the LA Fires. Michelle Pfeiffer also posted a helpful carousel. David Slack has some helpful advice, should you find yourself in the worst position of having lost your home. Pasadena Humane Society could use some help. There’s a vet in Santa Monica offering free exams, medications, diagnostics, and food for pets affected by the fires Jan. 10, 11, and 12th.
Take care, darlings. And be good to each other.