Wind and fire
When I talked to the two women — one from Maplewood, decades ago, but still — and listened to them describe the deep weirdness of the Santa Ana wind that preceded the fires and fueled them, driving them mercilessly, devastating their synagogue but not their community, I remembered something I’d read, also many decades ago.
“There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot, dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands’ necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.”
It’s from “Red Wind,” a short story by Raymond Chandler that first was published in 1938. It’s a prime example of hardboiled detective prose, and it was written by a master. That’s why it sticks in the folds of your brain, and peeks out when it’s summoned, as it was now.
Los Angeles is living through surreal horror. It’s hard to imagine what’s next. How do you rebuild a city that’s so thoroughly damaged? And how can people feel comfortable living there?
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Although there probably are more differences than similarities, it reminded me of September 11. What happened here had been unthinkable, and it was done on purpose, by evil, hate-filled, suicidal maniacs. No one wanted the L.A. fires. (Yes, eventually we’ll find out if they could have been prevented or tamed sooner, but that’s a very different matter.)
But when Karen Brief Linstone and Rabbi Jill Gold Wright talked about how the world looked the day they talked to me — the sky was bright blue, there wasn’t much wind, and the world, when you were away from the damage, was beautiful — it sounded like September 11, with its so-blue sky.
And it had that same feeling of surreality. How could this be possible? How could part of the world, which always seemed to be so solid, just go up in smoke?
But the community’s response to the fires is heartening. The group that we’ve heard most about — the congregants at Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center — helped each other, finding housing for the displaced, making sure they have the supplies they need, helping with their dogs and cats. Also, they made sure that Hebrew school would continue, along with daily minyanim and Shabbat services, including kiddushes. And they rescued all 11 of their sifrei Torah.
Similar emotions and actions followed September 11, along with a feeling of shared grief and mourning, and the resolution to keep moving.
The Jewish community is where the people are, even more than where the buildings stand. We see that in times of great peril — as we also saw in the reaction to October 7 and the war in Gaza. Our long history has given us many chances to reach that conclusion. It is stirring to see it in action.
—JP
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