I write this column with a heavy heart. Like many of you, we lost our home. I say home, not house, because it held our memories, and that, after all, is what a home is.
Paul Simon once wrote, “Long ago it must be, I have a photograph, Preserve your memories, They’re all that’s left you.” Our memories went up in flames.
Yes, my bride and I had a well-thought-out plan to remove family heirlooms and sentimental items at the first hint of evacuation. There was only one problem—we were on the East Coast when the fire struck. A saying—”The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry”—comes to mind.
And yet, despite this devastating loss, I have so much to be grateful for. My bride and I are healthy, and have each other. We enjoy the blessings of two caring, supportive kids and the love of an extended, giving family. We have loyal, concerned, generous friends.
And we in Malibu have each other. I have never been prouder of a community where so many residents are genuinely concerned about their fellow citizens and willing to extend them a helping hand. We will continue to care for one another, and for this we can all give thanks.