This is one of those surreal times when I can turn on the television news, look at the front page online at the New York Times, or stand out on the deck of my home and see the same scene each time - the fire raging in nearby Santa Barbara. My little beach town in Summerland is choked with smoke, but safe from the flames.
The fire started on a trail I've walked many times. Years ago when I first discovered it, I was taken by the streams and the woodlands and the orchards that provided the perfect backdrops for hiking-inspired reveries. Maybe even more impressive was the man in his 80s (at least) who was there on the trail every single day. I never asked him where he lived. Now I'm wondering whether he is okay.
Earlier in the day, there was hardly any smoke and I thought the fire had been contained. But then the winds blew in, flames burst into view, and I started contacting friends and colleagues who live closer to the fire than I do. I'll probably have house guests soon. [Update: I’ve been hearing back from people and fortunately, so far, everyone seems fine (except for some frayed nerves). Their homes have survived, too. Of course, that doesn’t make the incinerated homes of people I don’t know any less tragic.]
Meanwhile, I've still been thinking about friendship, and the many comments left on my recent posts on the topic (here and here). Eventually, I'll write more on the topic of making friends. For now, I'll just tell you about a conversation I overheard the Saturday before last, at the Los Angeles Book Festival. As a friend and I were waiting in line for one of the three panels we never did get into, a woman behind us was telling the person next to her about a group she meets with regularly. The people in the group are all writers. The listener, assuming this was the typical writers group, asked if the participants took turns reading their work and discussing the reactions. Oh, no, the story-teller explained. The group is not about work at all. They all gather together once a month or so just to socialize, cheer successes and commiserate about disappointments.
The part of this story that is pertinent to our ongoing discussion is how this group got started. One person, wanting to make friends with other authors, posted on Craigslist, asking whether there were writers in the area interested in getting together and getting to know each other. (I know, Craigslist has had some bad press these days.) Years later they are still meeting, not just as fellow writers, but as friends.
